tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18755725216975649542024-03-05T01:26:49.077-08:00Mom Culture and General NerderyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-4288713563749781782018-03-10T09:38:00.000-08:002018-03-10T09:38:30.044-08:00Shit my Kid Stumps me onSo, as a parent, we are expected to know everything about everything. And I think I hold my own pretty good. My daughter is super curious about so many different topics, she often asks me random questions out of the blue. But once in a while, she asks me something I have no idea about. And when that happens (depending on the topic) we either Google it, or pull out the encyclopedia.<br />
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(Yes, I am a freak who teaches her kids to use those paper things called dictionaries and encyclopedias.)<br />
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Most recently, she asked me why women are called "M-R-S" after they get married. I launched into a long-winded talk about women taking their husband's name, gender-equality, yada-yada, which she listened to and asked questions during, all very politely. At the end she very nicely clarified.<br />
"But Mom, why M-R-S? What does it mean?" So in the end, I hadn't answered her question at all, but misunderstood it. And when I thought about it, I wasn't certain. I could tell her about the use of Miss, Ms., Mrs., Mr., Master, but I didn't actually know about the details of the abbreviations.<br />
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We ended up going home and looking it up online, and I am sharing it here for you! I'm sure you have all been wondering the exact same thing as my 9-year-old, lol!<br />
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRpFHv69aUAOHUrWw14yPd4GUSInVZcnjq7a-7zyA7gVRKJWkNtDA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for mrs or ms or miss" border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRpFHv69aUAOHUrWw14yPd4GUSInVZcnjq7a-7zyA7gVRKJWkNtDA" /></a>Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. are NOT abbreviations for Mister and Missus, but for Master and Mistress. (Ooooh, I am raising a tough girl, she did NOT like the term Master!!) And Miss and Mrs. actually had no connection to marital status at all. Miss was originally used for girls and very young women of 'no consequence.' If the woman was educated, or in a position of power, then she was referred to as Mrs. It's interesting (and unsurprising) that marriage to a 'respectable man' is also why that title is given. Ms. is ruminated about on many websites, and seems to be that 'in-between' title that was given to unmarried women. Women encouraged the use of it to try and prevent being identified as an individual, rather than solely as a wife.<br />
Because I encourage my kids to write letters and emails addressing people with proper titles, we settled on women as Ms., unless we know for sure they use Mrs., and men as Mr.<br />
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We both agree, a simple first and last name is much easier.<br />
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If you're interested in reading more, some sites I found fascinating were:<br />
https://newrepublic.com/article/119432/history-female-titles-mistress-miss-mrs-or-ms<br />
https://soapboxie.com/social-issues/Mrs-Miss-or-Ms<br />
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/25/magazine/25FOB-onlanguage-t.htmlAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-38568598720629584722017-07-13T08:38:00.001-07:002017-07-13T08:38:26.814-07:00Summer 2017 Star Trek MarathonHappy Summer, everyone!<br />
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It began last summer, with Evan and I going through the Marvel movies in chronological order, but we only got about halfway. This summer, we wanted something Ella would enjoy too. So the three of us have begun the original Star Trek series, watching an episode every day or two as a reward for doing some schoolwork, etc. It's been fantastic!<br />
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As we are doing this, we are finding that almost every episode has a goofy expression on someone, or a ridiculous movement - something that makes us rewind and play that part again, sometimes a few times!! I've decided to compile these as we go along, so we have something to look back on and laugh as we remember :-)<br />
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Enjoy the awesomeness of the sixties!<br />
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The first episode actually plays twice through the Netflix compilation of episodes, (with the pilot, and the Managerie episodes) so we got to enjoy our favorites again!!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKW4pblmH_bihyphenhyphen-32IpERHPMEMTlrtAd47gG-sAhwD4-eeFTYnpzdoK9X2jKai10Z7jcnkW0VegsouwP_68ac_ALsDlc26vZ8myW8xeJ6ggCun5lQukhWPuawP0sIVTaKKl-rtoxSMYWMs/s1600/buttheads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="694" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKW4pblmH_bihyphenhyphen-32IpERHPMEMTlrtAd47gG-sAhwD4-eeFTYnpzdoK9X2jKai10Z7jcnkW0VegsouwP_68ac_ALsDlc26vZ8myW8xeJ6ggCun5lQukhWPuawP0sIVTaKKl-rtoxSMYWMs/s320/buttheads.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We enjoyed calling these guys 'buttheads' everytime we saw them from behind. I know, ace parenting.<br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKsU-jkCPKBZsaBLN7iRuDY_T5GfxQGkwjlsIWUYUpVhS2OkKHR2IBrFcjdLo3QbuduPfTHg13-GxwmlGMJoyPgoX1m-rqb2Mkp7crJJeF1EM7x2imdioIEOxoOZVKhjGicqJ86Q7ATNd/s1600/Vina.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="245" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKsU-jkCPKBZsaBLN7iRuDY_T5GfxQGkwjlsIWUYUpVhS2OkKHR2IBrFcjdLo3QbuduPfTHg13-GxwmlGMJoyPgoX1m-rqb2Mkp7crJJeF1EM7x2imdioIEOxoOZVKhjGicqJ86Q7ATNd/s400/Vina.gif" width="362" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one is probably our all-time favorite. We watched it again and again and cannot make heads or tails of her expression. Ella rolled around on the ground laughing every time!</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvVK1QU_AaQjGIgtJ8vZU8AHwl1wxH3l37t0bxhW6gnVWQHsLISkJt_Vq3VB1-WSXsHHSscyY4Yi_bSPC2XqJ4eVhdlDjDpSLgJw3JghSFZLCz1hktc20a-c32-EpBDNMdv4IpR1Grf90/s1600/CharlieX2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvVK1QU_AaQjGIgtJ8vZU8AHwl1wxH3l37t0bxhW6gnVWQHsLISkJt_Vq3VB1-WSXsHHSscyY4Yi_bSPC2XqJ4eVhdlDjDpSLgJw3JghSFZLCz1hktc20a-c32-EpBDNMdv4IpR1Grf90/s320/CharlieX2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Charlie X episode, we enjoy a lot of laughs, as he did his 'curse face' often. So fantastic :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0bhu2qYqCvBDS8IzUPPV0v_DTl8cDvqTucYctVdw7HJkyU2P4f5QRMw3ejVxo3L7lh5-eSiUKdgAxE8OQ1B_wNCfIY4584j_POMr66o4zm_7fHbxTqvYAihsS4FX42aGS8dMOr5ZYM3hQ/s1600/Charlie+X.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="341" data-original-width="500" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0bhu2qYqCvBDS8IzUPPV0v_DTl8cDvqTucYctVdw7HJkyU2P4f5QRMw3ejVxo3L7lh5-eSiUKdgAxE8OQ1B_wNCfIY4584j_POMr66o4zm_7fHbxTqvYAihsS4FX42aGS8dMOr5ZYM3hQ/s400/Charlie+X.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearly someone agrees, as they make this awesome gif set.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyC8AxKvkW_TfJQCrCnABHjI2ozyExYJKSwhEIqQigT-mdirBXaSVFktfr4mMQESUdl0U8vqkPIw972WtdRJgQH7BVnVCNVhfQ_z6LdWE6frltSuYhqynPx5zH6V3KcOciFTeuq05JihB/s1600/KirkFall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="576" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyC8AxKvkW_TfJQCrCnABHjI2ozyExYJKSwhEIqQigT-mdirBXaSVFktfr4mMQESUdl0U8vqkPIw972WtdRJgQH7BVnVCNVhfQ_z6LdWE6frltSuYhqynPx5zH6V3KcOciFTeuq05JihB/s320/KirkFall.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was an extra gem in the Charlie X episode.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJlt_BAZPeujJ1neumbW2D8u_5Z3h2l1mReWGpvsm0ORNr8er0EgEfDQ8RmMY72taZB9kNEZH3kU3Jr82ly_0kqFHDDoYgMS-Wq-766jTVHvvGlsQviResK4Iy28eNyfWdL2w4kOMZ2N5/s1600/swashbucklingSulu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="496" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJlt_BAZPeujJ1neumbW2D8u_5Z3h2l1mReWGpvsm0ORNr8er0EgEfDQ8RmMY72taZB9kNEZH3kU3Jr82ly_0kqFHDDoYgMS-Wq-766jTVHvvGlsQviResK4Iy28eNyfWdL2w4kOMZ2N5/s400/swashbucklingSulu.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We actually don't find Swashbuckling Sulu ridiculous at all. It's too epic. I had to include it for it's sheer awesomeness. We think Funko needs to make a Pop figure.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEm1ysCqVu62arKchoqpIN4IhpBNPiBFtccPxcq2wAM0VbsXKYLEHuIXiXDYgnWjXEVVzAYoYLZMGgfE6Lxl6MHcw_QaXgRAxuG00SyncU7A8pVCTZobZ2ibkkPVJO84UvRE0X9Z7TuPfl/s1600/EvilKirk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEm1ysCqVu62arKchoqpIN4IhpBNPiBFtccPxcq2wAM0VbsXKYLEHuIXiXDYgnWjXEVVzAYoYLZMGgfE6Lxl6MHcw_QaXgRAxuG00SyncU7A8pVCTZobZ2ibkkPVJO84UvRE0X9Z7TuPfl/s400/EvilKirk.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kirk's evil doppelganger provided some great laughter for us.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUIgjOQvYaem38y06FZhFoQLAbDoCLjRwN9I1NUYDUC-HVDqFQbu7QzktPalcZZGEdms_yxwXyc39EKOYDRe1K4YONFxja2QW9gjjJUGJwLCVioEKarkSq5z3Y-zX-r61K9Vslol4C2RO/s1600/James_Kirk%2527s_evil_counterpart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUIgjOQvYaem38y06FZhFoQLAbDoCLjRwN9I1NUYDUC-HVDqFQbu7QzktPalcZZGEdms_yxwXyc39EKOYDRe1K4YONFxja2QW9gjjJUGJwLCVioEKarkSq5z3Y-zX-r61K9Vslol4C2RO/s400/James_Kirk%2527s_evil_counterpart.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this is pre-Khan, too. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Fzur3R6RwVMu6fsAfxewCymZFOmMbipuUu1zo6ronj8XwcfGU6O-4851pdD0vt7g3SHakYkWc8c_klVmW1h4mtcYv39gfIhM6OCNOZiDzpiZJ4gQDb7fYurfcYMNC4off_hzDoSVzm9S/s1600/SelfDestruct.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="1011" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Fzur3R6RwVMu6fsAfxewCymZFOmMbipuUu1zo6ronj8XwcfGU6O-4851pdD0vt7g3SHakYkWc8c_klVmW1h4mtcYv39gfIhM6OCNOZiDzpiZJ4gQDb7fYurfcYMNC4off_hzDoSVzm9S/s400/SelfDestruct.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We watched this one last night, and had to rewind and play a few times when the Romulan commander hit self-destruct. Pretty fantastic.</td></tr>
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There is still one scene I'm trying to track down from one of the episodes we watched, and will post it if I can locate a shot of it. In the meantime, stay tuned for more!<br />
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Cheers,<br />
Kelly<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-51683102142567464772016-08-14T21:44:00.001-07:002016-08-14T22:02:53.885-07:00Yes, I'm Letting My Son Do That.A blog post.<br />
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In which I defend my parenting, and my right to support my male child of nine in his decision to make a choice about his own body.<br />
<br />
Yes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI75nBaAKgTmXH12Y0ycgO96RG62eiglmlsShA1N_tTL-j1IekSpeuOVaOfx4y8Td-f2UnlyS2irM_nGp9YjTrjVLyjSLq6q-TU4GdkYGpE3BidEeqbAfvdnRRbPelV0iLbRC0e45M-M5U/s1600/earrings-for-men.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI75nBaAKgTmXH12Y0ycgO96RG62eiglmlsShA1N_tTL-j1IekSpeuOVaOfx4y8Td-f2UnlyS2irM_nGp9YjTrjVLyjSLq6q-TU4GdkYGpE3BidEeqbAfvdnRRbPelV0iLbRC0e45M-M5U/s320/earrings-for-men.jpg" width="320" /></a>Yes, I support my son's decision to get both his ears pierced. How is it any different from your nine-year-old daughter's request to do the same? Is it written, or stated, or stamped somewhere that ear-piercing is solely for females? If you think it is, I highly recommend reading a history book. King Tut, Julius Caesar, the oldest mummy found thus far... perhaps read about them?<br />
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No, I do not feel this is indicative of "homosexual behavior," HOWEVER, if it were, I would not change my decision to support him. If you are looking to make me feel like my son getting his ears pierced is "gay," you are wrong. (And shame on you for trying to draw negativity to homosexuals.) Homosexuality is not a "fashion." An earring in a specific ear (or both) has nothing to do with one's sexual orientation, but their self-expression. Men have been piercing their ears and wearing earrings for thousands of years. That's a fact.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHU9KrqzVS8WjBb5vy_CMRj8f-ag94dUBzWHM1vD7aMIkXMAaoKjCCCHrMgX0hb4VnUuTb-9lt7V8K8gzt4g6Jy1RjfjfSh7vNzNh_5AyD3Fe2NuClQKD_ZyVIpuUAbiUn84vWcUmPxeT_/s1600/Bono_November_2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHU9KrqzVS8WjBb5vy_CMRj8f-ag94dUBzWHM1vD7aMIkXMAaoKjCCCHrMgX0hb4VnUuTb-9lt7V8K8gzt4g6Jy1RjfjfSh7vNzNh_5AyD3Fe2NuClQKD_ZyVIpuUAbiUn84vWcUmPxeT_/s200/Bono_November_2014.jpg" width="140" /></a>Yes, I have waited and ensured my son has thought deeply about this decision. While it is not permanent, my husband and I believe any sort of change to our physical appearances warrants consideration.<br />
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No, I do not think my son will have an easy time with this among his peers. Just as I have seen how adults have reacted and judged him when he has told them about wanting to pierce his ears, kids will be worse because (some) parents continue to teach prejudice, gender assumptions, and general hate. I expect him to be bullied and teased for this. I have discussed this with him in order to prepare him, and he is adamant in his decision. And I support and defend his right to express himself in a positive way. He shouldn't be ostracized for it, though I know he will be:(<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSM9oxLmz8e5liq9Wboif5MfFpdopIFReknAKND_qNu4-GE-eG_O3ZQdjFYY4z_xkz3Z3Nt5baRcHKVCIU5TiwYWw5uIzLis-pOObjUP76B02gWWueZGXzhM97p6uIJ8y2lBSTAkMWOtbx/s1600/johnny-depp-birthday-13_woygev.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSM9oxLmz8e5liq9Wboif5MfFpdopIFReknAKND_qNu4-GE-eG_O3ZQdjFYY4z_xkz3Z3Nt5baRcHKVCIU5TiwYWw5uIzLis-pOObjUP76B02gWWueZGXzhM97p6uIJ8y2lBSTAkMWOtbx/s200/johnny-depp-birthday-13_woygev.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
Yes, I imagine his decision is partially due to being raised in a very liberal, open-minded household where freedom of expression and independence are celebrated. My husband and I have multiple tattoos, and have had/do have multiple piercings, and I usually have my hair coloured some vibrant hue. My husband has both ears pierced and stretched to about 25 mm (I think). We also openly discuss themes with our children that they may come across in movies, or hear about at school or on a billboard, etc. We discuss love and hate, heroes and villains, right and wrong, and everything and anything that we feel will help our children to grow develop into kind, considerate thinkers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATFpKfdMnCHMPMNsOxo22vCiVZidKYO9qbdNNMYwWGHBicz0i2lNa-GNWy-9zSFsDITcRPOsFPABJycdvHRJ_ltecy7GWxiNjkeTiO8s_MYjUOqQI969__9fkU9K-2ZItN1Gs7PlU4mup/s1600/1263_lenny-kravitz-min.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATFpKfdMnCHMPMNsOxo22vCiVZidKYO9qbdNNMYwWGHBicz0i2lNa-GNWy-9zSFsDITcRPOsFPABJycdvHRJ_ltecy7GWxiNjkeTiO8s_MYjUOqQI969__9fkU9K-2ZItN1Gs7PlU4mup/s200/1263_lenny-kravitz-min.jpg" width="173" /></a>No, I don't care if you think it is wrong, or girly, or gay, or whatever other word you feel labels ear piercing, that I allow my son to pierce his ears. Your opinion is your own and you are entitled to it. I have an opinion on piercing the ears of babies, but I have yet to make anyone feel like shit for their decision.<br />
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Yes, I DO care, however, if you tease, bully, or otherwise hurt my son for wanting to be unique and remaining convicted in his choice. You may not agree with it, but don't you DARE make him feel poorly. EVER.<br />
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No, I do not think this will lead to my son becoming obsessed with body modification. If anyone will be responsible for that, it will be the media, and our body-shaming society. (But that's another rant altogether.) Besides, did you ask that question to the little girl in the princess dress wanting to get her ears pierced?<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwPEQmWi8tpkQ_Nx7gLR2SL_OrAl9SaRDFCorbnSWRLGb9gyiIYsFHjLLggR8jfaRpFe3_TPZFPENGkOWGsfFqdgez5jCO5at-gE10_3WnQB4owQcD2PYFmbqgb2PQjuQ0vGPdur6wfKd7/s1600/db0731cc-de08-447b-b317-a4aeafb9e538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwPEQmWi8tpkQ_Nx7gLR2SL_OrAl9SaRDFCorbnSWRLGb9gyiIYsFHjLLggR8jfaRpFe3_TPZFPENGkOWGsfFqdgez5jCO5at-gE10_3WnQB4owQcD2PYFmbqgb2PQjuQ0vGPdur6wfKd7/s200/db0731cc-de08-447b-b317-a4aeafb9e538.jpg" width="150" /></a>I didn't think so.<br />
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All I ask, is that perhaps you could hold off your judgement against my son's decision, and really look at why you feel the way you do. Because most of the world's generalizations are due to someone deciding something should be a certain way, and everyone else adopting it.<br />
Like sheep.<br />
Don't be a sheep.<br />
And if you don't agree with my son's choice, don't be an asshole and make him feel bad about it. That's just bad form.<br />
<br />
And if you don't believe me about generalizations, maybe look up some history on pink and blue being assigned to certain genders. That's a good one too:)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-48763037657982492062016-07-11T20:04:00.000-07:002016-07-11T20:04:23.719-07:00Racism?<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't understand racism.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I mean, I really don't. Now let me clarify, I know the definition of the word, and I have witnessed it, and I have even been a victim of it. But I don't understand why it exists. My brain cannot fathom that degree of prejudice and hate. It does not compute.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, let me further clarify:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I am considered Caucasian. I was raised in a highly multicultural neighborhood, and attended a Mandarin elementary school. My family doctor from when I was 3-years-old was dark-skinned and accented. My best friends growing up were descendants of various cultures. Sure I had friends whose homes smelled, sounded, and seemed more like mine did, but there were many that (wonderfully) did not. I have memories of playing with friends at houses that were filled with the scent of cumin, friends whose grandparents made us sit and watch quietly while they knelt and prayed in their Buddhist garden, and I remember going to a birthday party where we all got to learn African dancing. I can honestly say that skin colour was nothing to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I do remember hearing references to skin colour growing up, usually from older people. I was often referred to by grandparents as "the little white friend," but I never saw it as a term of degradation. Perhaps they meant it as such, maybe they didn't. But I was what society deemed "white" so I felt it was just a term, nothing more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As I reached my teen years, I realized my father used a lot of racist terms, despite assuring me he "wasn't racist." As an adult I can now see what bullshit that was. But instead of adopting these terms and this view of people, I grew up choosing not to use the types of words my Dad, some of my friend's parents, and even some of my friend's used. They were universally acknowledged as hateful, racist terms, so why on earth would I use them? I didn't want to be like that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I remember as a teenager, visiting my grandparents out in Halifax, when I first heard blatant use of racist terms. My jaw hit the ground. I couldn't believe they used such words in their everyday language. As I grew, I learned more about Halifax - Africville, in particular - and discovered just how widespread and deep racism really was (and is, I suppose) there and all over the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Becoming an adult, I obviously saw more and more racism that I never understood as a child. I've even been victim to it on several, minor occasions. Asked to go to a Caucasian cashier at the grocery store by a cashier who wanted to only take customers of the same culture as herself. Or being told at a store that there were none left of a certain product, only to find that was untrue and the associate was only giving them to customers of their culture, etc. Nothing violent, but just that differential treatment was confusing, and hurtful enough. And it was NOTHING compared with what some people deal with daily. I have always felt that those who exhibited such behaviors were completely ignorant, and I distanced myself from such people. Anyone who I ever caught using derogatory terms for any culture, were called out. Of course, people defend their choices - "Oh, I'm not racist, I just grew up hearing it," or "I don't mean anything by it," or "oh c'mon, you know what I mean." I've just never understood the need, or fear, or WHATEVER it is that people feel that compels them to LABEL by skin colour. I DON'T UNDERSTAND.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The other day I had a very upsetting conversation with my kids. That was what prompted this post.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As I was surfing through Facebook, my 9-year-old son was periodically walking behind me (and peeking) at my screen as I scrolled. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Mom, what is racism?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He made me jump, as I hadn't even known he was behind me. I then realized that my FB screen was plastered with posts about shootings, and hate crimes, and general awfulness. And my son had caught a good chunk of it.</span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">***Just to also clarify: we don't have cable. My kids do not see the news on tv, or commercials for violent shows, or clips of upcoming breaking news, etc. I feel that there is enough hate and stress and trouble for them once they are adults, that they have no need to see that sort of thing as children. You may disagree, and that is your right, just as it is mine to expose my children to hate (or rather, not to expose them) as I see fit. ***</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Um, you know what buddy, don't worry about it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">At this, he looked at me rather sternly. "No, really, Mom. What is it?" 9-year-olds. Geez.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought for a moment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Are you asking me what racism is? The definition?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Yeah."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Well, I don't know if I want to explain this to you. It's not a good word."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Okay." He was still staring at me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Allright. I suppose you should probably learn about it. I'm sure you've learned a little bit at school, but not really known that was what it was."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Okay?" He looks skeptical.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"So, racism." I feel really, really, REALLY upset at this point. I felt like my son was 5-years-old again and he'd come home with that gift of a toy gun from Uncle Trevor - a toy I'd prevented with great effort for as long as possible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I didn't want to change how he saw people. I was also so worried I was going to explain it poorly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I suppose racism would be... treating someone differently because of the colour of their skin."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He frowned. "But... why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I don't know, buddy. There is no reason, but some people are massive jerks and feel that if they don't have the same skin colour as them, they should be treated differently. Often, it means hurting someone because they have a different colour skin."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was visibly upset by this point. "Who?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Well, there is a lot of problems in the United States right now because a lot of people are being killed for no reason. All because of the colour of their skin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"That's really stupid."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Yes it is, buddy. REALLY stupid."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He nods. "Who is Martin Luther King Jr.?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This took me aback, until I realized that when we began talking I had stopped scrolling on my FB page right on a picture of and quote by Dr. King. I immediately relaxed, thinking that would be easier to explain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"He was a really important man who did a lot of important things, but was most well-known for fighting for the rights of black people in the United States."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Black people?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Okay, that floored me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">***Another moment to clarify: My husband and I are pretty conscious of how we refer to people, as we both feel its just irrelevant to refer to people solely by their skin colour. If we are asking about a friend of the the kids, we ask things like "Who's that? The one with blond hair?" or "is she the one that loves Pokemon?" or another identifying factor. We don't define people by skin tone, and never have with our children.***</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, I was stunned, because even though I know how my husband and I feel about not defining people by skin tone and how we've raised our children not to, it wasn't until that moment that I realized that we had actually succeeded. My kid did not know the term 'black people.' It blew my mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Well, a black person is someone with dark skin."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Oh, like _____!" He nodded. (This is his best friend at school.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"No, not quite. _____'s family is Filipino. He's of Asian descent. Someone that is considered black would be..." (I was running through his classmates in my mind.) I named a classmate he knew well. "A black person like _______ often has African ancestors, or Kenyan, or..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"No, _______'s family is from Jamaica!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Yes! Absolutely."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"So what colour are we?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I didn't notice, but my 7-year-old daughter had snuck in to listen to us, and she asked that question. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Well, sweetie, we are considered Caucasian. Or white."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She snorted. "We aren't white! We're darker than that!" She was putting her arm up to mine. "And we have these!" She pointed to different moles and freckles up our arms. This made me grin, as we are both hopelessly pale.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I know. But someone decided to call dark-skinned people 'black' and light-skinned people 'white' and I guess it stuck. What's important is that it doesn't matter. Different skin tones mean that people that once lived in different parts of the world, now live all together. Because the sun is brighter in certain parts of the world, some people's skin developed something to protect them from the sun..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">At this point I started to lose them, lol. Their eyes read <i>summer break, Mom</i>. I knew I needed to wrap it up. "Okay." I made both of them look at me. "Does it make any difference what someone looks like on the outside, for the kind of person they are on the inside?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They both shook their heads.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"That's right. What is INSIDE is what matters. Good people have all different skin tones. Bad people have all different skin tones. Skin colour means NOTHING towards what kind of person someone is. Right?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Right."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They ran off to play, but I was a mess. I was broken-hearted at having to talk to them about this, and worried that they would start seeing people different. I jotted down our conversation so I would remember. I just felt it was something I needed to have record of - that there are people raising their children without hate, or prejudice. Because I don't care what anyone says, prejudice/discrimination/racism - it's all taught. No one is born treating people differently. Assholes are made, not born. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And I don't know what to do to make things better. And it hurts me. My cousin's son is black, and she is white. She posted one sentence several days ago on FB that broke my heart. She wrote</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">:</span> "<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">If you've never had to explain to your child how to avoid being shot by the police, that's white privilege..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I instantly felt sick. I had never thought about that. Her son is only a couple of years older than mine. It made - and still makes - me want to cry, and barf, and throw punches, and curl up to sleep. Because what can I do to make this world better?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So even if no one else ever reads this post, I have it. And I can read it and know that I am trying. I am spewing 2 more humans out into the world armed with love, 2 more humans that are confident in saying "racism is dumb." Because this hate seems so big, I don't know what else to do. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, just stop. Stop breeding this shit, stop enabling it in others. Stop letting it go when you hear it, or see it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Fuck. Just... love each other.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-24826021696492484292016-07-03T00:19:00.000-07:002016-07-03T00:19:31.755-07:00We ♥ BarbieSo for many years, I have had discussions with other Moms about Barbie and her supposed negative<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh481ZoWHWR6ox6oo12T0AjAQaSWOZZwZw9B9BkeWbNobMs9n_sUJef5X0N4PIF8lA4GAu3aiICwbu_SOWVjTiDdXJco6vyPQJT4z7cjS-pulNochWXYDMhS3DpSEmkdIJlhMxnjvWj2b8-/s1600/Barbie_logo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh481ZoWHWR6ox6oo12T0AjAQaSWOZZwZw9B9BkeWbNobMs9n_sUJef5X0N4PIF8lA4GAu3aiICwbu_SOWVjTiDdXJco6vyPQJT4z7cjS-pulNochWXYDMhS3DpSEmkdIJlhMxnjvWj2b8-/s200/Barbie_logo1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
influence. When my daughter was a toddler, she began to enjoy Barbie movies and I felt their messages were clear and positive: Girls are strong and can do anything, friends and loyalty are important.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGo7T2_ue0XloY9CWm29wz3JXVlEbxUSkkNEk-_lQ5YHln8H5QIDDBJ2wFvm36wTbVJIhcYsnyiyEewMYKS-gCD7RCb-tb0xPimORRr4gWJM6iPDs3RmhtD-9Ik-2fGbc2CV9ow1vMOkQX/s1600/barbie_7-of-my-favorite-fictional-characters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGo7T2_ue0XloY9CWm29wz3JXVlEbxUSkkNEk-_lQ5YHln8H5QIDDBJ2wFvm36wTbVJIhcYsnyiyEewMYKS-gCD7RCb-tb0xPimORRr4gWJM6iPDs3RmhtD-9Ik-2fGbc2CV9ow1vMOkQX/s200/barbie_7-of-my-favorite-fictional-characters.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's major physical differences<br />here, right? Right? Hello?</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
There were always Moms who disagreed, referencing Barbie's impossible figure, and first-world fashion standards. Now, I did (and do) find it silly that every single person in every single Barbie movie has the same height and body shape, but I never felt that was a point of importance to my daughter. All the Mario characters for Nintendo are short and plump. Do parents frown on this because it encourages obesity? As parents, shouldn't we encourage our children to see what is actually meaningful? Pretty sure that if a child wants to watch a Barbie movie because it looks fun and their parent tells them "no" because Barbie is too skinny, it's the parent causing the damage - not Barbie.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0FD9JyRH9tjfwPb5JT4P65YyLXb-4Aeofr09vzyCbXCk88xKA31h4zW8n2D7HyZ_hRkP5EoNVf0nz2SB42S4ejSkdUTtG7AiuZFjuCWDSsk3EDGs6rKhZFN9AFLOgycQtiY81VgLbsgu0/s1600/Barbie_and_The_Three_Musketeers_Book_Illustraition_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0FD9JyRH9tjfwPb5JT4P65YyLXb-4Aeofr09vzyCbXCk88xKA31h4zW8n2D7HyZ_hRkP5EoNVf0nz2SB42S4ejSkdUTtG7AiuZFjuCWDSsk3EDGs6rKhZFN9AFLOgycQtiY81VgLbsgu0/s200/Barbie_and_The_Three_Musketeers_Book_Illustraition_2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now, Ella's first favorite Barbie movie was <i>Barbie in The Three Musketeers</i>. She wanted to be a musketeer for her preschool Halloween party, and I think we even wrote in her school record book that she wanted to be a musketeer when she grew up. It was the adventure she loved; the fact that Barbie and her friends kicked ass in skirts and sparkly tops, foiling the plan of the accented villain. She got to ride horses and had a sword, and an adorable kitty sidekick. But she also made mistakes she atoned for, made new friends, and overcame sexism. </div>
As she grew, we encountered many Moms who disapproved of Ella's love for Barbie movies and books. But I stayed resolute in what I felt she was taking from them. She wanted to be a surfer, and a rock star, and a ballerina, and a princess, and a fairy, and a <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx9wZfIX7DjEVDj8cIyjPjXsg8LAuhMQj4kTo0jVK87643S5OPfImMI__-nfsTBYxtJNdZz1XL2DN1h3EelEYPSWJi5vyMnCIGx4mRttC37PqJN1YC9bRfwRE4C3UD7Ux8qd9nuepjFY2/s1600/bfaa4900-fd3c-11e3-8a63-410cbfc0af90_Breakout_s2014e0557_0624Hughes3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx9wZfIX7DjEVDj8cIyjPjXsg8LAuhMQj4kTo0jVK87643S5OPfImMI__-nfsTBYxtJNdZz1XL2DN1h3EelEYPSWJi5vyMnCIGx4mRttC37PqJN1YC9bRfwRE4C3UD7Ux8qd9nuepjFY2/s200/bfaa4900-fd3c-11e3-8a63-410cbfc0af90_Breakout_s2014e0557_0624Hughes3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
teacher, and a scientist. The funny thing is, Ella never played with the dolls. With her love of the movies and books, she was given several, and I passed on mine to her, but she picked them up for a handful of minutes maybe 3 times a year. Dolls have never appealed to her, but Barbie's adventures and messages of friendship and girl power have.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Z8TvDgicD96O_pyZk7kVEcECIx2sh_R_BJ-qF1DAlcaV3_hIt9-QP3Z6iMV3Mj1YMz73z_oL8aSPcEUtmuQWWUyNZJJNufMMWrIK1BB_XlObc9AKQ9-JQth0xjHRdB8JMw2PtwynXtzQ/s1600/barbieRealSize2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Z8TvDgicD96O_pyZk7kVEcECIx2sh_R_BJ-qF1DAlcaV3_hIt9-QP3Z6iMV3Mj1YMz73z_oL8aSPcEUtmuQWWUyNZJJNufMMWrIK1BB_XlObc9AKQ9-JQth0xjHRdB8JMw2PtwynXtzQ/s200/barbieRealSize2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic Barbie vs. Realistic Barbie</td></tr>
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After a completely surprising comment she made the other day, I am <i>convinced</i> that the negative view on Barbie's figure is actually another symptom of what we raise our children to see, and how. In the years of Barbie thus far with my daughter, we have NEVER, not <i>once</i> discussed Barbie's breast-size, waist-size, height, or skin-colour. We have however, discussed how brave she is, why she made the choices she did in a particular movie or book, why friendship is important, how strong she is, how practice makes someone better at something, why it's important to stand up for your beliefs, and more.<br />
A couple of days ago, my son and I were discussing one of the (many) professions I have had over the years when my daughter burst out in exclamation at my having another "thing" I could do.<br />
"Mom, you're just like Barbie!"<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvF_wDOo8MUe2amHgZSgeHYV9yNWb_jV30sjPvWGsn-SHCzBlx6CKhSue4oPmxpAmth-pJNBs-NgryoNpbUJ3TpF4pEedPjmmC3vHJFYOUpPewoFdaOvj3-VvQ2lCrDCVEvEEW7wWxlc5/s1600/supermom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvF_wDOo8MUe2amHgZSgeHYV9yNWb_jV30sjPvWGsn-SHCzBlx6CKhSue4oPmxpAmth-pJNBs-NgryoNpbUJ3TpF4pEedPjmmC3vHJFYOUpPewoFdaOvj3-VvQ2lCrDCVEvEEW7wWxlc5/s200/supermom.jpg" width="200" /></a>Now, my immediate reaction was to laugh, as I am physically the farthest thing from Barbie you could pretty much imagine. "Oh, am I? Is it my long, blond hair?" I asked her as I flipped my brown/faded pink mop over my shoulder.<br />
At this she squinched up her face and sort of laughed and went back to her drawing. She was confused. I ended up on another task, but her statement stuck with me. It was a little later when I realized what she had meant.<br />
She thinks Barbie can do anything; she is the ultimate renaissance-woman. She has even said so over the years. And she sorted me into that category in her mind.<br />
My kid had paid me the <i>absolute</i> compliment, and she didn't even see it that way. It was me who had immediately thought of Barbie's physical form, not her.<br />
So I proudly disagree with anyone who says that Barbie is a negative influence on young girls.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone has legs like this, right?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0eXb_aRYVyA5Yd886z57aGS0i7P8v1LY5GvAUIGlWBtud5mwyhtZB3E-I07aCWId_XF4fqTn_XLefZVP_3fDo7hF7B_1EDqHQC_d2_o3rksBVwPiOMCm5nyJxJnVbusK8BkK1L2W3XvI/s1600/1460113915-jessica-rabbit-gif-1446413720.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0eXb_aRYVyA5Yd886z57aGS0i7P8v1LY5GvAUIGlWBtud5mwyhtZB3E-I07aCWId_XF4fqTn_XLefZVP_3fDo7hF7B_1EDqHQC_d2_o3rksBVwPiOMCm5nyJxJnVbusK8BkK1L2W3XvI/s200/1460113915-jessica-rabbit-gif-1446413720.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Super realistic, right?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KCTgC6RTOERNcqtQpOYmM39A35GzfX70-prG3FzPF20LmjPUjUxMH92GY-KUCzg4v7F2JCtEFQscs6T_f5oX4vx6S5PdkrJvrompITdz-lGlPImsXoq2ZV4ng4LysKADAU0K3EjM7F41/s1600/tumblr_ltg3ltEBwj1r1ogfco4_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KCTgC6RTOERNcqtQpOYmM39A35GzfX70-prG3FzPF20LmjPUjUxMH92GY-KUCzg4v7F2JCtEFQscs6T_f5oX4vx6S5PdkrJvrompITdz-lGlPImsXoq2ZV4ng4LysKADAU0K3EjM7F41/s200/tumblr_ltg3ltEBwj1r1ogfco4_1280.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those proportions are totally<br />spot on!</td></tr>
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Yes, I feel she is physically unrealistic, just like virtually every pop culture icon found in Anime and cartoons, not to mention the American film industry. No, I don't feel that she represents a realistic lifestyle for the vast majority of the world - and not just her fantasy movies. But I truly believe that if parents are active with their children in talking to them about what they watch and experience through media in all its forms, Barbie is an excellent role model for girls.<br />
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Barbie shows girls that they can do anything.<br />
So, who is telling them otherwise?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-4999610290102407322016-02-27T21:45:00.001-08:002016-02-27T21:45:10.606-08:00Beanie Boo PartyA couple weekends ago, we celebrated my daughter's 7th birthday with a Beanie Boo party. She's totally obsessed with them. Any doll stuff she has, she uses with the Beanie Boo's. Barbie cars are driven by them, doll clothes are worn by them, and any boxes around the house become homes, spaceships, or vehicles for them. Any money she got for Christmas was spent on Beanie Boos. Under her loft bed, she has a MOUND of stuffies.<br />
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She ended up with only six of her friends able to make it, but it was really nice with only a few crazy girls running around:)</div>
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Aside from devouring snacks and juice, the first activity was to make some party hats for the Beanie Boos. We had just hit up the dollar store for stickers and ribbon and pom poms and I printed out easy templates online. Once each of their Beanie Boos were properly outfitted, they played Pin the Eyes on the Beanie Boo. This was fun to make, but I ended up with a very adult problem initially. After I drew Magic the Unicorn Beanie Boo (Ella's first/favorite Beanie Boo), I sent the pic to a couple friends to show them how it turned out. My ignorant mind was happily full of innocent thoughts when I sent it out:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkilO_Wnmckrrf6u07KDrmgAzaRKwfN9JQDpYU8ugGUw-AkG_GGz67Hc5H-KnLq8hUWrUU1s4zHQg8Znu4avEWQwju84eJ8uk5pEIyhiZjWMFsdJxRO4ID_gMbzkQAF_oX7ENVoWdCRch/s1600/IMG_3184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkilO_Wnmckrrf6u07KDrmgAzaRKwfN9JQDpYU8ugGUw-AkG_GGz67Hc5H-KnLq8hUWrUU1s4zHQg8Znu4avEWQwju84eJ8uk5pEIyhiZjWMFsdJxRO4ID_gMbzkQAF_oX7ENVoWdCRch/s320/IMG_3184.JPG" width="236" /></a></div>
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D'ya see it? </div>
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Now?</div>
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Yeah...</div>
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Now it's ALL I see. My terrible shading. I was going off of <a href="http://www.tycollector.com/boos/boo-images/magic-lg-ret-36804.jpg" target="_blank">this</a> picture, after all. And it was the night before the party that poor Magic's out-of-control Beanie bush was brought to my attention. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQeQegEQ7chbMXWEdJ39qf52e4yj3H6RvU98yFs7glPNS0xliBz5Ro7miZI_A2R-0tazSMzF_v2tV57WwCq1Z2nH8iuY9D8kR1acWDFt27kkFep7TfAJy33ApkeORnPV5vlTDtGO2t_zh/s1600/DSC02194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQeQegEQ7chbMXWEdJ39qf52e4yj3H6RvU98yFs7glPNS0xliBz5Ro7miZI_A2R-0tazSMzF_v2tV57WwCq1Z2nH8iuY9D8kR1acWDFt27kkFep7TfAJy33ApkeORnPV5vlTDtGO2t_zh/s320/DSC02194.JPG" width="240" /></a>Now, my daughter was really excited about the game, so I couldn't just scrap the picture. And she loved her little feet, so I couldn't just cut off the bottom. I ended up coming up with a little cover-up to make it less of a porno Beanie Boo.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsnm4HI62yvVQO7ovXKrgkbXmubeeO_IDYzxWrAMNpb4Hv60MJvvfxGAAUpPEqG4VcjumAhw7_OuKb_DxZg8P8jbbktiqfQKqvvoS_-JJaF1UnPC5fQhw54MHoDGoD3uOuNbImU8LwQSi/s1600/DSC02205+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsnm4HI62yvVQO7ovXKrgkbXmubeeO_IDYzxWrAMNpb4Hv60MJvvfxGAAUpPEqG4VcjumAhw7_OuKb_DxZg8P8jbbktiqfQKqvvoS_-JJaF1UnPC5fQhw54MHoDGoD3uOuNbImU8LwQSi/s320/DSC02205+%25282%2529.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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Sigh. At least none of the kids or their parents know how accidentally inappropriate THAT game was! And they had a lot of fun playing it, laughing at each other, and spinning around. So in the end, the game was a success.</div>
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After they played for a bit, we sang Happy Birthday, and the kids had some cake while colouring some Beanie Boo pictures I printed off the Ty website, <a href="http://www.ty.com/lineart/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
I (of course) wanted to make Ella a really elaborate cake with fondant Beanie Boos all over it, but she asked for just a simple round cake on a platform where she could hang her keychain Beanie Boos from, and with one on top. It was all sorts of awesome not to have to worry about making a big fancy cake!<br />
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After cake and colouring, the kids played just played with their Beanie Boos while the grown ups tidied up a bit. Then we brought out the Beanie Boo bingo game that I had purchased on Etsy, for less than ten bucks, from <a href="https://www.etsy.com/ca/shop/EDParty?ref=also_bought" target="_blank">here</a>. I think most of the kids had fun with this one, when they were winning, that is. They would pass around the boards after each round, and the girls loved talking about the different Beanie Boos.<br />
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Ella also asked for donations for the food bank in lieu of gifts, and a good portion of her friends did give her donations, which was great. She still received some gifts, which was a nice balance. She's excited to bring her donations in, though.<br />
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In the end, I think she had a fantastic time, which is what makes it all worthwhile<3<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPUrULiPEkprvJX1m8DICH0m2DpPmVAsbfV03zPX9iI1v3SXr0NrwVteuDsVxWqC8WRujP-vtloLBVDGi_-fT_dagObPqLii0EzpJJCBvCsDl2cJdtlXwjLLEsEDqT8LY3tJiSPoru1K4/s1600/DSC02223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPUrULiPEkprvJX1m8DICH0m2DpPmVAsbfV03zPX9iI1v3SXr0NrwVteuDsVxWqC8WRujP-vtloLBVDGi_-fT_dagObPqLii0EzpJJCBvCsDl2cJdtlXwjLLEsEDqT8LY3tJiSPoru1K4/s320/DSC02223.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-84333055861315055462016-02-01T08:04:00.001-08:002016-02-01T08:04:17.359-08:00Readin'<br />
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So it's been months since I shared what I've been reading, and I know I'll forget a few, but here's tryin'...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mYMe1H8iKwO_DchY3nDZxXV0H2ecGIhIZOHCDad84y-TJxgsFIckPCSEj8rrnOGYfiSzFwmMKJgesJg5o4tLefvAr-3c2RogPeTTz-W279Wh6SJFvK8Yoc0ivCDd20lFY5eY7Db5qGMI/s1600/5138vFy5R7L._SY344_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mYMe1H8iKwO_DchY3nDZxXV0H2ecGIhIZOHCDad84y-TJxgsFIckPCSEj8rrnOGYfiSzFwmMKJgesJg5o4tLefvAr-3c2RogPeTTz-W279Wh6SJFvK8Yoc0ivCDd20lFY5eY7Db5qGMI/s200/5138vFy5R7L._SY344_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="132" /></a>I know in November, I picked up <i>Tower of Thorns</i> (actually I received it in the mail the day it was released:-D) by Juliet Marillier. As you probably know if you follow what I read, she is one of my all-time favorites. I have all her books in first edition HC. As the next installment in her Blackthorn and Grim series, this one was another treat. Well-written, interesting plot, while still giving the reader a little bit more answers of the mysteries behind the series' namesakes. Still love her. I don't know how it happens, but I can't help but be swept away by every one of her books. Wish she released more than one a year!!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgphK2-Dkl_9g04MKtlbhxluMlLguQR3QTzoVygISz0xKvzFgE1I16TiWgqjLbEcxu2ehhW57J6Ncpps-p-UexbXwVlwXs36yBIZaCaguE9wpg_s7sPb7LKA3rF2RUfSwTpM7JTSxEtXQFi/s1600/9781408857878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgphK2-Dkl_9g04MKtlbhxluMlLguQR3QTzoVygISz0xKvzFgE1I16TiWgqjLbEcxu2ehhW57J6Ncpps-p-UexbXwVlwXs36yBIZaCaguE9wpg_s7sPb7LKA3rF2RUfSwTpM7JTSxEtXQFi/s200/9781408857878.jpg" width="130" /></a>During these months, I ended up getting <i>A Court of Thorns and Roses</i> by Sarah J. Maas from the library, unaware that the author had already written a series that was widely received. I quite enjoyed her new one, though I found it a bit angsty at times - an unfortunate by-product of some teen novels. I admit, I often get the stories mixed up between this one and <i>Red Queen</i>, as I read them back to back in a short time period. But I did enjoy it, and I'm intrigued to read the next installment.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_JDqGDdfAqZ1rlHbH6Ru2j2gUS5QBmO1QR_pcflfSm7LSNDF5vCNPTIJvFkOwPp3d9o-Ij8yq4Vf8AAsjy8jsTRhCFCpr3uAHtWWT15iKnfNTFsXGyawP0b9KXHja0smXBFzZ7L1ID5G/s1600/10212034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_JDqGDdfAqZ1rlHbH6Ru2j2gUS5QBmO1QR_pcflfSm7LSNDF5vCNPTIJvFkOwPp3d9o-Ij8yq4Vf8AAsjy8jsTRhCFCpr3uAHtWWT15iKnfNTFsXGyawP0b9KXHja0smXBFzZ7L1ID5G/s200/10212034.jpg" width="132" /></a><i>Red Queen</i> by Victoria Aveyard. I didn't want to initially pick this up, as there was so much hype around it. (I can't help but want to avoid the books the whole world is crazy about - I don't know why!) But I put it on hold at the library and was surprised to find I really enjoyed it. So much that when my time with it was up and I wasn't done it (due to picking it up at the same time as <i>A Court of Thorns and Roses</i> and not finishing it in time) I ended up buying it off Amazon. It was really quite enjoyable, and I'm looking forward to reading Glass Sword when it's released.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wUncRw9nZLVvoAE6TkIHMRajh7trptcWo8H7_9Inm5RAjDKxm5qVzLLaxzObGiVjE7Wn3gwIKHgpKUvZoCH3poPQhDpTNy69koTH4Lh7kzPbKyILtMyE25e6Q-8DLmAYqANmZSxzcqkX/s1600/Winter.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wUncRw9nZLVvoAE6TkIHMRajh7trptcWo8H7_9Inm5RAjDKxm5qVzLLaxzObGiVjE7Wn3gwIKHgpKUvZoCH3poPQhDpTNy69koTH4Lh7kzPbKyILtMyE25e6Q-8DLmAYqANmZSxzcqkX/s200/Winter.JPG" width="131" /></a>I know somewhere in here I read <i>Winter</i> by Marissa Meyer. Must've been shortly after it was released at the end of 2015. I was SOOO excited for this one, as it was the conclusion of The Lunar Chronicles, as I wasn't disappointed. It was well done, without feeling like Meyer rushed the end. If anything, she dragged out a cohesive wrap-up. Without any detailed spoilers, I like how it was (mostly) a happy ending for everyone. I still thoroughly enjoyed it, and am excited for what this author brings us next.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrb3cnq199_4oM9A_yYJqR0jzeRT9_Ahf4QeMjfo0YFhuORyOYrFqAj4KUnOy7QH51ePmxaXr8-jaQ8S9tDl2fjKuXFhxnPLTVSlTvaEG-GR_hNH1uAGq3WikZdcpqJyAKu6ADWC5GaMK9/s1600/41fd-uSM0QL._SY344_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrb3cnq199_4oM9A_yYJqR0jzeRT9_Ahf4QeMjfo0YFhuORyOYrFqAj4KUnOy7QH51ePmxaXr8-jaQ8S9tDl2fjKuXFhxnPLTVSlTvaEG-GR_hNH1uAGq3WikZdcpqJyAKu6ADWC5GaMK9/s200/41fd-uSM0QL._SY344_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="133" /></a>I was doing a lot of writing at this time, and I don't like to read fiction when I'm heavily writing, so I picked up <i>The Organized Mind</i> again. I've tried to get through this book before because I <b>really</b> want to get through it, but UGGGGGHHHH I cannot seem to stay with it. I'm not a big non-fiction reader as it is ( I prefer audiobooks for non-fiction) and I totally stalled again. Someday...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4DhUSxWOUJGZOi89dWIk-RdHTiJrW96nhCmeOB8k2dnmAL3-Enhy_QddOEiPxDDoQDLpjgU8ElALXiVg-LHWEbEa3XtCZnZGD5Zd0-SCjpdWTJS97fsQ1nrpT2a-E12KCz9bc0ZPAqkLP/s1600/StitchingSnow-final-front-only.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4DhUSxWOUJGZOi89dWIk-RdHTiJrW96nhCmeOB8k2dnmAL3-Enhy_QddOEiPxDDoQDLpjgU8ElALXiVg-LHWEbEa3XtCZnZGD5Zd0-SCjpdWTJS97fsQ1nrpT2a-E12KCz9bc0ZPAqkLP/s200/StitchingSnow-final-front-only.jpg" width="128" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4DhUSxWOUJGZOi89dWIk-RdHTiJrW96nhCmeOB8k2dnmAL3-Enhy_QddOEiPxDDoQDLpjgU8ElALXiVg-LHWEbEa3XtCZnZGD5Zd0-SCjpdWTJS97fsQ1nrpT2a-E12KCz9bc0ZPAqkLP/s1600/StitchingSnow-final-front-only.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><br />I'm currently reading <i>Stitching Snow</i> by R.C. Lewis. I borrowed this one from the library after seeing it pop up on my recommendations. Only about halfway through it, but I'm enjoying it so far. It does remind me a lot of <i>Cinder</i> (with the whole lost princess becomes miraculous tech-genius) but I'm really trying to push that aside and enjoy the story. We'll see how I feel at the end, lol.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8xRc_MzvMPL37zXf_w3K01YO2ufs22VPWyLyFd9aPiILyOGKZJzgQqo7lA8kWyD7ksPX-wa489PhtUTBsdHg3ieRks_9YS2-ZKLaE73o-umacO2pvqmFqWUoZJQtYUqn9T2aQzbr-U5J/s1600/91B05jUAJbL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8xRc_MzvMPL37zXf_w3K01YO2ufs22VPWyLyFd9aPiILyOGKZJzgQqo7lA8kWyD7ksPX-wa489PhtUTBsdHg3ieRks_9YS2-ZKLaE73o-umacO2pvqmFqWUoZJQtYUqn9T2aQzbr-U5J/s200/91B05jUAJbL.jpg" width="128" /></a>I'm also listening to an audiobook of <i>Brain Maker</i> by David Pearlmutter. I've only just begun it (and so far the reader's voice is driving me nuts) but the subject matter is quite interesting. It discusses how the food we eat and the condition of our "gut" can affect our brain as well as a myriad of neuro-related problems. He also talks about how changing our diet can help alleviate things like depression, MS, celiac-disease, obesity, IBS, autism, and more. Not very far in yet, but really interesting thus far.</div>
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I'm hoping to start diving back into some hard-core writing, so I think I'll hold off on some fiction after I finish <i>Stitching Snow</i>, but that likely won't happen for very long, lol. Hope you found some good reading lately!</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Kelly</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-860999826413403622016-01-19T08:42:00.001-08:002016-01-19T08:42:53.487-08:00Creative ConstipationIt's funny how frustrating creative constipation can be.<br />
Well, funny for everyone else, I suppose.<br />
For me, it's been like my brain is bung-ed up and I have a constant noise in my mind with all the ideas and possibilities crammed together in a teeny, tiny space. I imagine my resulting bitchiness has been a delight to be around.<br />
<br />
I wrote a story several years ago, and have been avoiding the dreaded rewrite. But seriously, this shit needs to be done - the story has potential. The major flaws in it are the main veins of the story, though. And I've been wracking my brain for almost three weeks trying to iron out the answers. Because they involve the very roots of the story, and I don't want to lose certain elements, it's been excruciating trying to find the answer.<br />
<br />
When I'm working, I'm thinking about The Story. When I'm driving, I'm thinking about The Story. When I'm doing homework with the kids, I'm thinking about The Story. Virtually everything I do has been permeated by this fucking Story.<br />
<br />
But last night, I had a breakthrough. And it was from - as Tolkien said, - "The unlikeliest of creatures." My very un-literary, guitarist-husband, Kyle.<br />
<br />
I was ranting about my creative constipation (again) and I concluded with, "-AND IT'S SO FUCKING FRUSTRATING! It would be as if you had a song you couldn't figure out!"<br />
He uncharacteristically answered wisely: "Well, when I can't figure out a song, it usually means I have to figure out my tuning. Maybe you just need to figure out your tuning?"<br />
<br />
I think I probably growled in response, but I then had a long, hot bath and thought about what he said.<br />
Change my tuning.<br />
Maybe I was looking at these plot knots all wrong. Maybe if I changed how I was looking at my story, and changed what I expected my character to do, and why, I could muddle through this.<br />
<br />
I ended up soaking in the tub for over an hour just pondering my story and I worked through a few points, but I wasn't there yet. I still kept asking myself WHY on a few elements.<br />
<br />
So I went to sleep, and got up with the kids to get them ready for school.<br />
As they were eating breakfast, I was in the kitchen stretching.<br />
<i>*BACK STORY* Just so this next part makes sense, I have been suffering some massive back pain, as well as working 2 jobs to frantically cover our finances, while dealing with some stressful family drama. </i><br />
So the husband walks in, and I'm bent over touching my toes, and I moan about how sore my back is, and he replies, "Why? From carrying the weight of the family on it?" (Lol, smart-ass!)<br />
And just like that, the fog lifted. His comment made everything click into place with my story. I didn't need to keep asking why, <i>why</i>, <b>why</b> does my character has to do all these things, and sacrifice everything? She has to. Just like I am stuck doing what I have to everyday, she has to sacrifice as well. It's just the card we were dealt.<br />
<br />
And like that, the floodgates are open. Ideas and answers are flowing like a freakin' river!<br />
But, of course, I have no time to write.<br />
I have to go to work.<br />
*le sigh*Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-763334739142767982016-01-08T10:20:00.001-08:002016-01-08T10:20:14.851-08:00Hello Again!Hi! Remember me? Geez, I can't believe how long it's been! Seriously!<br />
<br />
Now, I'm nowhere near ready to tackle a book update, since it's been months since my last post. BUT, I'm gonna share a big one I began in November and never actually posted: The process I went through to give my daughter a kick-ass Honey Lemon costume for Halloween this past October. I wanted to share this mostly because there was limited resources online for me, and someone else might end up needing the same thing! So here goes!<br />
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Summer 2015 - First viewing of Big Hero 6<br />
My daughter decides she HAS to be Honey Lemon for Halloween this year; we all agree Honey Lemon looks like the grown-up version of her.<br />
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September 2015<br />
My daughter reminds me that she wants to be Honey Lemon for Halloween this year. I look online to discover that thankfully, such a costume exists. I shrug it off. No problem, we'll be able to find that.<br />
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October 1st-7th, 2015<br />
The daughter reminds again. Repeatedly. So excited to be Honey Lemon. Can't wait to be Honey Lemon. Hey Mom, when are we getting my Honey Lemon costume? I keep reminding myself that I should really get online and find out the best place to get it, ie: the cheapest.<br />
<br />
October 8th-13th, 2015<br />
Start popping into stores to find that no one has any idea what I'm talking about. Honey who? Oh! Big Hero 6! Yes, we have Baymax. Or Hiro. That's it.<br />
<br />
October 14th, 2015<br />
I go online again. There it is, phew. What's that? What do you mean SOLD OUT? Soooooo...guess I'm making this thing. At least I have almost 3 weeks. What's that, honey? Your school costume day is the 28th. Oh, no problem. 2 weeks? Oh, sure, no problem. Sure, sure.<br />
<br />
So, after haunting Pinterest, I found a few cosplays, and a few parents like me who did this up for their kids. The only thing was, they did theirs over several months.<br />
Yikes.<br />
So head down, ass up, into the foray I went.<br />
To remind you, this is Honey Lemon:<br />
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The first thing tackled was the chem-balls. I bought styrofoam balls, skewered them into an empty box, and then spray painted them in the red, purple, and orange of Honey Lemon's chem-balls.<br />
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Next, I tackled her dress. Now, I'm hella cheap and at this point I'm terrified of my impending deadline. So I figure I'll hit up a Value Village and find one easy-peasy. Right? Yeah, not so much. So I settle for a terrible 2XL flashy, sleeveless tee. And over a couple days of altering and adding trim, I turn it into a dress that sort-of, kind-of resembles Honey Lemon's.</div>
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I found the purple leggings at Walmart for $4, and thought the best way to match the arms to the leggings was to use the same thing. So I bought a second pair, cut them up, and sewed them on as the long sleeves. My daughter was mortified that she'd be wearing pants on her arms.</div>
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After that, I began the armor. I lucked out by finding a pleather-looking fabric in the clearance section of the fabric store. I was so pumped that it looked like leather, but felt like a stretchy spandex, that way it would look very real, but be stretchy and comfortable for my kid. My bubble was burst when the fabric store associate informed me it went on clearance because it was just awful to work with. And she was right, it SUCKED to sew. I ended up having to come up with some pretty creative ways to sew this to the padding, since it would NOT sew to itself. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQaGZBwa9W-NuuVR-TRUtmCxQiLNFHXuolswabOX2NVGRmZw-uoAwfbYDD9I_A-2ukfj118KuITLbC8dk6fE28VM8Wco85Y2sH5MjYwmwK5oz4iSsHUbL_E5KiQ_-Qn1vPB5uxAGkaNrx/s1600/IMG_2957.JPG" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz3glz8leDAJ867sshIUeLVe-vB_kGMI1P3jkiy0N92JXaaO2kn4wYR5eHTGj9r_M41P-UrCl3mLiwzOaoSuHpYRUgtKEpGQrjJ2DSyotDcDfwa0LLYXTvHPQJ_A8occRGSRkxGEOCHqWa/s1600/IMG_2957.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz3glz8leDAJ867sshIUeLVe-vB_kGMI1P3jkiy0N92JXaaO2kn4wYR5eHTGj9r_M41P-UrCl3mLiwzOaoSuHpYRUgtKEpGQrjJ2DSyotDcDfwa0LLYXTvHPQJ_A8occRGSRkxGEOCHqWa/s200/IMG_2957.JPG" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5J4qXMGlBC47NXWFBMD-O61dwIgeuCduUA7nogjOzx2aX2XfGMF0Uq5v-fkeWX7l_zl13zcpVIOQ3EEZg9Db6o6q2CUfxuqsxNYKd-rY3I_Iwqy4_qct7ZIuW8ccpxdWbd25oxYTyEyk/s1600/IMG_2959.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5J4qXMGlBC47NXWFBMD-O61dwIgeuCduUA7nogjOzx2aX2XfGMF0Uq5v-fkeWX7l_zl13zcpVIOQ3EEZg9Db6o6q2CUfxuqsxNYKd-rY3I_Iwqy4_qct7ZIuW8ccpxdWbd25oxYTyEyk/s200/IMG_2959.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQT0FphenzuBGr1VzegjyTifz2uS0wXLJZ808Xw5nbXzFTGDOELwyJG9h4rkB7ERX13CinfxJLNxV66LFUJEeZMT7cWKki-dIXp-GYPA8cangr9HRYA939Fj7LaT2d2T5jjmHsvXZboEG3/s1600/IMG_2976.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQT0FphenzuBGr1VzegjyTifz2uS0wXLJZ808Xw5nbXzFTGDOELwyJG9h4rkB7ERX13CinfxJLNxV66LFUJEeZMT7cWKki-dIXp-GYPA8cangr9HRYA939Fj7LaT2d2T5jjmHsvXZboEG3/s200/IMG_2976.JPG" width="149" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz3glz8leDAJ867sshIUeLVe-vB_kGMI1P3jkiy0N92JXaaO2kn4wYR5eHTGj9r_M41P-UrCl3mLiwzOaoSuHpYRUgtKEpGQrjJ2DSyotDcDfwa0LLYXTvHPQJ_A8occRGSRkxGEOCHqWa/s1600/IMG_2957.JPG" imageanchor="1"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz3glz8leDAJ867sshIUeLVe-vB_kGMI1P3jkiy0N92JXaaO2kn4wYR5eHTGj9r_M41P-UrCl3mLiwzOaoSuHpYRUgtKEpGQrjJ2DSyotDcDfwa0LLYXTvHPQJ_A8occRGSRkxGEOCHqWa/s1600/IMG_2957.JPG" imageanchor="1">O</a>nce the torturous process was over, I was actually really happy with how it turned out - especially since I had done it in only a few evenings. I also decided against the "breast" armor. After all, she was only 6.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBcWQmJ0UkVeTEaPz241fYaAVp7Ep5yVmYrvTkGPhM4qTkNnTfLPEHAgRD426OdytR9h9QyJ-8eqaEMqhpikR590CgfhoJt-md3OqspDq9A60AwdZrnldobH4DKiCpZ_fUxrBaZ3qiCVo/s1600/IMG_2975.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBcWQmJ0UkVeTEaPz241fYaAVp7Ep5yVmYrvTkGPhM4qTkNnTfLPEHAgRD426OdytR9h9QyJ-8eqaEMqhpikR590CgfhoJt-md3OqspDq9A60AwdZrnldobH4DKiCpZ_fUxrBaZ3qiCVo/s320/IMG_2975.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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The last thing was the purse. Yikes.</div>
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I had left it for last, because it was so daunting. I had found a purse at Value Village in the sort-of-right shape, but had a really hard time finding a fabric in the right shade of orange to cover it with. I eventually went with a roll of this "all-purpose fabric" from Walmart. It was $10 and I didn't even know if it would work. Supposedly you could glue, sew, etc with this "fabric." Turns out, this shit was AWESOME to work with.</div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZmofV2dHyucWr_uosD6Z-bU_ZAtMua4aVm1dowTbAj9-cIW-BJCok4YvkIEnUllD5IPMr3tbuWYj24CParaL58VEn9fkyxnjV0GbA3tEDE7rer23vA1EZEFWK_AK8uJiM03SxQ3OZM2U/s1600/IMG_2969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZmofV2dHyucWr_uosD6Z-bU_ZAtMua4aVm1dowTbAj9-cIW-BJCok4YvkIEnUllD5IPMr3tbuWYj24CParaL58VEn9fkyxnjV0GbA3tEDE7rer23vA1EZEFWK_AK8uJiM03SxQ3OZM2U/s200/IMG_2969.JPG" width="149" /></a></div>
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I stripped the purse of it's adornments and straps, and I found a yellow edging to sew onto the fabric. I covered the little bag and sewed an open top onto a back, to make the front flap. I used printable fabric paper from Staples to print the design of Honey Lemon's buttons for her purse. I wanted something that I would be able to shine a light through. Here is the picture I found on Pinterest from that awesome <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/ryanhatesthis/this-dad-couldnt-find-good-marvel-toys-for-his-daughter-so-h?utm_term=.yxDv1erAy#.wgqVo46vN" target="_blank">Dad</a> who did this for his daughter:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4WUHEcRL11vLGMsUAQgCqOYjWyM1efz8iGVnQdzSdN6jaNirr-bTjFgFp_t6XcB07kaXug4bMdVBfl95z7SyWWkoh9HjTbQF66rZ7uS1P_A-ATBFl3saYbmXe5kn7xXgDqa2doBvkWgD/s1600/HLpurse.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4WUHEcRL11vLGMsUAQgCqOYjWyM1efz8iGVnQdzSdN6jaNirr-bTjFgFp_t6XcB07kaXug4bMdVBfl95z7SyWWkoh9HjTbQF66rZ7uS1P_A-ATBFl3saYbmXe5kn7xXgDqa2doBvkWgD/s320/HLpurse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Then I sewed the flap onto the purse body.</div>
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I knew my daughter wouldn't be able to use the purse as a purse, as the most important piece was making it so the buttons could light up. Now, the Pinterest Dad that made this purse for his kid had painstakingly ran wires to light up each individual button on the screen. I had zero time for that, so I opted for a flat light that my daughter could press to make the whole screen light up. After all, at this point, I had only about 4 days left before her costume day at school. I found a flat purse light at the Dollar Store, and sewed it into the opening behind the fabric paper. The end result was actually super cool.</div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIWlTc9FtIX6dLoEtNaKvaDMwkcB8iXKSO-8l6QqOMTZeEoKD9lV8oMkwNBk7uqUbHPqoaLsBcVjq3C7jHKw-gSXXhZh7MZt0eonYAcwRk8zsVN4v_KbaZiKVnowNWY-9UpAFwoO7dpNK/s1600/IMG_2971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIWlTc9FtIX6dLoEtNaKvaDMwkcB8iXKSO-8l6QqOMTZeEoKD9lV8oMkwNBk7uqUbHPqoaLsBcVjq3C7jHKw-gSXXhZh7MZt0eonYAcwRk8zsVN4v_KbaZiKVnowNWY-9UpAFwoO7dpNK/s200/IMG_2971.JPG" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWaut7J77JtfQ1zMZ1Livzero1B3vU9vphinXiTMYs3j178H5qXQQsptGPvSqIBYHkdRksyFtOraUVuiD_uhsw2IZLm1WymkZzF3XOsH7ZrI79Ly3bhH3P7tcO5nso1P7DPCgC7uQYf3l/s1600/IMG_2973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWaut7J77JtfQ1zMZ1Livzero1B3vU9vphinXiTMYs3j178H5qXQQsptGPvSqIBYHkdRksyFtOraUVuiD_uhsw2IZLm1WymkZzF3XOsH7ZrI79Ly3bhH3P7tcO5nso1P7DPCgC7uQYf3l/s200/IMG_2973.JPG" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwlQJABIOLrUONHPsZck_NcT50uwqP2-FFolp3pNOOQIH2A5zRPf_hhMdK5LjcrA6DkRvxbQWWPzx1wxh_ev6TsBsoSmCSgZ3SMhl5l2lddnHH9CMDAVtF9XGlzEyevvEZeAvOJM3-Yog/s1600/IMG_2974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwlQJABIOLrUONHPsZck_NcT50uwqP2-FFolp3pNOOQIH2A5zRPf_hhMdK5LjcrA6DkRvxbQWWPzx1wxh_ev6TsBsoSmCSgZ3SMhl5l2lddnHH9CMDAVtF9XGlzEyevvEZeAvOJM3-Yog/s200/IMG_2974.JPG" width="149" /></a></div>
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It then occurred to me that I hadn't even had my daughter try any of this on yet, and holy crap, it better fit! Here is our first test-run.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbp2FRy9bY2_ZoCfBVmg-zS4MhgvBQx4epoJJrtbsFRM__91dBJNQIWJhEHmaVTS34iaJ4DWSEAbekcDjBumHcI1g6pOo4dPz36m3KnF_sJWTQ5yjn8heAgT-9Olga_Xnz3TuJonPtBfpn/s1600/IMG_2981.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbp2FRy9bY2_ZoCfBVmg-zS4MhgvBQx4epoJJrtbsFRM__91dBJNQIWJhEHmaVTS34iaJ4DWSEAbekcDjBumHcI1g6pOo4dPz36m3KnF_sJWTQ5yjn8heAgT-9Olga_Xnz3TuJonPtBfpn/s320/IMG_2981.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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I made a wide strap for all the balls to fit onto, the way Honey Lemon wears hers. Since the orange fabric was all-purpose, it reacted to adhesive wonderfully, so I used an adhesive Velcro to stick all the balls onto the strap - that way, my kid could take them off and on as she pleased.</div>
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After this test-run, I had to make a couple alterations to the dress to help bring in the wide shoulders of the original shirt, and to the neck of the armor to help it stay closed. And then my son pointed out that I still had the helmet to make. Shit. Helmet. Right.</div>
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So two nights before the 28th, I began the helmet using a smaller, cheap knight helmet I found at Value Village. It was an epic fail, and I decided to go with something that was more pliable and comfortable for her head. I went with a very Canadian solution.</div>
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Duct-tape.</div>
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It so happened that this purple duct-tape was also grape-scented. Bonus!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVEWcmft7XekCSDJKzUVaGuVTFJHQMmtu6xYuvuErbwzHp1jdvmnueQFJ5tTk5kwh6mvd_onkPUiMMU59HbrWwtam538d0MzWQ0i5NFRavNwR6vUjJFGXypT05V5_RQSBxISPHY7qHREU/s1600/IMG_2990.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVEWcmft7XekCSDJKzUVaGuVTFJHQMmtu6xYuvuErbwzHp1jdvmnueQFJ5tTk5kwh6mvd_onkPUiMMU59HbrWwtam538d0MzWQ0i5NFRavNwR6vUjJFGXypT05V5_RQSBxISPHY7qHREU/s320/IMG_2990.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I began with a light foam for the basic shape, then used the grape-scented purple duct-tape for the final covering.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJCD2P8uj7HSsSFuXnFxEPcjQToKNXikYGG4ohUPbA8GSumCZjqh4MSC57AHbqTVL-342Oj1gMsrWsTCZBvoltPvaVfGwz-q5omKSbtPwcJ6F6V6leTKiFk__CbT9q8Il9Xow59A6NMNI/s1600/IMG_2992.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJCD2P8uj7HSsSFuXnFxEPcjQToKNXikYGG4ohUPbA8GSumCZjqh4MSC57AHbqTVL-342Oj1gMsrWsTCZBvoltPvaVfGwz-q5omKSbtPwcJ6F6V6leTKiFk__CbT9q8Il9Xow59A6NMNI/s200/IMG_2992.JPG" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqIv-p59-FrwsbhZq_yxX5d6f7WXAAQv3X5DH3F0aQb7bOITd1o5n4tKXURN3G6a_icNmkRvY-q5l1Nz1KaQSXIXtbY2TnG7WsU4gd4e4LIE8xoGRx4DqbfR0qvDzjub1xIyqwPadsYH-0/s1600/IMG_2995.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqIv-p59-FrwsbhZq_yxX5d6f7WXAAQv3X5DH3F0aQb7bOITd1o5n4tKXURN3G6a_icNmkRvY-q5l1Nz1KaQSXIXtbY2TnG7WsU4gd4e4LIE8xoGRx4DqbfR0qvDzjub1xIyqwPadsYH-0/s200/IMG_2995.JPG" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizcRGLXMGppg5od3U8FORQjXAeldkDOQL-erjEPsqlx-6B7p9-emvqyYMzUkXIS67Ne4mltPnKm_rgnzjmpUWrmw_YXlgHgFlvksLSiatSXNPzkvsaiRmk8y747ttJfQujphqldF2O6sVT/s1600/IMG_2997.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizcRGLXMGppg5od3U8FORQjXAeldkDOQL-erjEPsqlx-6B7p9-emvqyYMzUkXIS67Ne4mltPnKm_rgnzjmpUWrmw_YXlgHgFlvksLSiatSXNPzkvsaiRmk8y747ttJfQujphqldF2O6sVT/s200/IMG_2997.JPG" width="149" /></a></div>
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I used paint to add the orange and the lines.</div>
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I ended up finishing the helmet about 1 am on the 28th. Nothing like finishing in the nick of time!</div>
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And even though it was 2 weeks straight of panic and creativity and sewing and taping and cursing, it was SO worth it once she had it on. And she received so many compliments, she was just over the moon. What we do for our kids, eh?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxk2MqvsewrRTC4ZR2GsABziKIlBr8W0Mr7p3dbcL-PLG5UUfNZthoqiGYsOaUZmPzbrzPZOHGmYN1GYhfMHPndPz2Z8dkonwXiY6Unb7mJf3DV-T2Mzv4pGcg-Gn9lBTrIRP3LNjdofRf/s1600/IMG_3009.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxk2MqvsewrRTC4ZR2GsABziKIlBr8W0Mr7p3dbcL-PLG5UUfNZthoqiGYsOaUZmPzbrzPZOHGmYN1GYhfMHPndPz2Z8dkonwXiY6Unb7mJf3DV-T2Mzv4pGcg-Gn9lBTrIRP3LNjdofRf/s400/IMG_3009.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
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Maybe next time I'll start a tad earlier, lol.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-89080113703676489862015-08-11T23:34:00.000-07:002015-08-11T23:45:37.568-07:00TerrifyingSo I was just sitting here after a shift at work, sipping a glass of wine and surfing Facebook, when I saw a video that someone had shared.<br />
It was one of those "social media experiments" where some young fella lures a young girl somewhere to show how easy it is to get kids nowadays into unsafe situations. Now, I have seen a couple of these, and I was feeling pretty happy-go-lucky tonight and didn't feel like watching anything that would freak me out.<br />
But for some reason I clicked the stupid link:<br />
http://www.sunnyskyz.com/happy-videos/2895/He-Picks-Up-A-Teenage-Girl-On-Facebook-But-Watch-What-Happens-When-Her-Parents-Find-Out<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqV3tprxVvOZFCAPVJ56aVGbMGe4dlNLQvkLWZWZ281diSdSUHAJR5Qoezfa4IuXwtmStOyLVKaVrPkOc6i6JWQPnU5rDpYeeEAtyPVJNZL8wFXRegtgz9ipdEUP5pH2RSY5QoBH3M1u3h/s1600/3eb48e7f9c810117f1050799df6d73f4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqV3tprxVvOZFCAPVJ56aVGbMGe4dlNLQvkLWZWZ281diSdSUHAJR5Qoezfa4IuXwtmStOyLVKaVrPkOc6i6JWQPnU5rDpYeeEAtyPVJNZL8wFXRegtgz9ipdEUP5pH2RSY5QoBH3M1u3h/s1600/3eb48e7f9c810117f1050799df6d73f4.jpg" /></a>So I was about to close it at the point when he's about to meet the first girl - but then her dad jumped out, which shocked me - and I forgot. I ended up watching it, even those these videos tend to do nothing but depress me (I mean, shit like this happens every day - it IS depressing.)<br />
<br />
But when it came to the last girl, and her parents are yelling at her, the mother's words really struck me. She was yelling at her daughter about how they had watched videos together, and read news articles, and discussed this sort of thing. It took me aback, as those are exactly the sorts of things I would do with my own kids to warn and teach them of these dangers.<br />
<br />
And yet this girl still did it. She was educated by her parents as to the dangers of strangers through social media, and she GOT INTO AN UNMARKED VAN WITH A STRANGER.<br />
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More than any video showing me how many kids still do this, <i>that</i> mother's words terrified me. Because if she did all that, how am I supposed to get through to my own kids. If showing them, talking to them, warning them, TEACHING THEM, doesn't make it clear...what are parents supposed to do?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5UUTbdJ0YYy3GKzlhfvH0FCWc9yN9NjnuyJWUTQ9FV5GDm62mew7Z2vZ21EASbYdlpi-70gYnUa8fCeeFRRIz6EXD_okPHdd-2cSqf1vCMxa98bTM6OpdD5P0j-zBHNk_gQa-mEWVeMm/s1600/online-predators1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5UUTbdJ0YYy3GKzlhfvH0FCWc9yN9NjnuyJWUTQ9FV5GDm62mew7Z2vZ21EASbYdlpi-70gYnUa8fCeeFRRIz6EXD_okPHdd-2cSqf1vCMxa98bTM6OpdD5P0j-zBHNk_gQa-mEWVeMm/s320/online-predators1.jpg" width="320" /></a>Social media and technology are the unfortunate ways of the future, so one can't cut their kids off - they'll need that knowledge and savvy to navigate their futures. I mean, at what age should kids be having their own FB pages?? I know people with young kids who let them have their own social networking page already, but is that just handing pedophiles a key to your front door? If you educate the snot out of your child, but peer pressure and the age-old desire to just feel WANTED can drive them to still let a complete stranger into their homes, is the answer is just to simply remove their ability to make such decisions? No cellphones, iPods, social media pages? And while that removes the ability to communicate, does it also castrate their tech-skills? Will it prevent them from succeeding?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDQCpn02HKUGOniKx7_a3ncqkiJhBCEz7LO7POukQ_VQ1sv6Au0oB1PBuk-DgzHXIV3BNt4xVv_mBvwtnIGW-LEgW3mcPdXQiVQ8OFLWdPZdoP3jdJTGuKffrN5ugtEmT16hjkFsNRqyJ/s1600/7433c532e30e9c60c19dd95172b3de32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDQCpn02HKUGOniKx7_a3ncqkiJhBCEz7LO7POukQ_VQ1sv6Au0oB1PBuk-DgzHXIV3BNt4xVv_mBvwtnIGW-LEgW3mcPdXQiVQ8OFLWdPZdoP3jdJTGuKffrN5ugtEmT16hjkFsNRqyJ/s320/7433c532e30e9c60c19dd95172b3de32.jpg" width="213" /></a>It was Uncle Ben who said that "with great power, comes great responsibility." Peter Parker was a 15-year old genius, and yet it still cost his uncle's life to drill into him the reality of his situation. How are 12-year-old girls that are bombarded with daily images of a perfect body, boyfriend, and breasts supposed to fight the urge to chat with someone who finally makes them feel SEEN? My kids are 6 and 8 and they BOTH have classmates with their own phones, iPods, etc. If every kid in class has their own phone number and youTube account, is ostracizing them (by not allowing devices, etc) the equivalent of the peer-pressure they inevitably receive already??<br />
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I'm sure I'm not the only parent to think these things (Jeebus, I hope I'm not...) so I would love your thoughts. It's too complex a problem for a simple solution, unless we can gather all the pedophiles and banish them to a hellish island, in which case, yes, let's do that:)<br />
What do you guys think? Ban the electronics and social media? Educate and educate, and then just hope for the best? Force yourself into every aspect of your child's life? Cause I'm about there...<br />
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How about you??Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-18067443242726177872015-07-22T22:11:00.002-07:002015-07-22T22:11:55.246-07:00CatchupI've been able to actually do a decent amount of reading (for me) considering the kids are now off school for the year!<br />
I borrowed a couple of books from the library recently - both were fantastic!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggC-skvVgDgbZeMjQhUgo6etGM4XlTdQSQWYBPQBLyQgXmI7D9hTuEfHx-UryPJ8KWPJPRu3sb5_-JpdsrnGti_6orBQU8ytGPtHdd57gdtvY1qdeilfgM6W20dhF1gCOJt4xhhWYcxujz/s1600/Dorothy-must-die.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggC-skvVgDgbZeMjQhUgo6etGM4XlTdQSQWYBPQBLyQgXmI7D9hTuEfHx-UryPJ8KWPJPRu3sb5_-JpdsrnGti_6orBQU8ytGPtHdd57gdtvY1qdeilfgM6W20dhF1gCOJt4xhhWYcxujz/s320/Dorothy-must-die.jpg" width="320" /></a>One was <i>Dorothy Must Die</i> by Danielle Paige. This is the debut from the author, and I'm happy to discover that there are more in the series! It was a surprisingly fun read, and I quite enjoyed the author's version of what happened after Dorothy left Oz. The novel follows high-schooler Amy Gumm as she finds herself in Oz and given the challenge of accomplishing several gruesome tasks, the final being to kill Oz's brutal dictator: Dorothy. It was a fun one, sort of Buffy - meets - Fairuza Balk's <i>Return to Oz</i> - meets - <i>The Outsiders</i>. The second one has been put on hold at the library:)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3ISNHkhWsx0juiXMlvcJK44CSki-DNvAkVtglR_YYpZGp9Vc_Q75attttfTMA2HAUHCAZGkwGm_Ptq6ogR5XFFTIgGpqf2fqm5S5MzEGdldXv5egMPiuo2VNvrNBaWv1AyLZXumVBJqb/s1600/reluctantly-charmed-cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3ISNHkhWsx0juiXMlvcJK44CSki-DNvAkVtglR_YYpZGp9Vc_Q75attttfTMA2HAUHCAZGkwGm_Ptq6ogR5XFFTIgGpqf2fqm5S5MzEGdldXv5egMPiuo2VNvrNBaWv1AyLZXumVBJqb/s320/reluctantly-charmed-cover.jpg" width="210" /></a>I also borrowed <i>Reluctantly Charmed</i> by Ellie O'Neill, as I'm a sucker for pretty much any celtic/fae story. This one was a lovely read, ripe with Irish slang and a dreadfully mischevous version of the Fae. Kate McDaid is a twenty-something city girl looking to improve her love life and career, when she inherits a mysterious set of instructions from a witch of a Great Aunt who died over a century earlier. To inherit, she must fulfill instructions to reconnect the modern people with the forgotten Fae, putting herself through paparazzi hell - and possibly ending humanity. O'Neill's writing allows for a quick read, and this one was charming.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNADY_NnkHVyPoOPx4UmWzfEdoUQHZeaweD6M4iWsZT5NzfzaSt7UQejJ01pm1vaIxnMzxTbFJVXvkOpJq3Wg6nmZDSosyjNPlGthRh7vw4XpyYb3k0IAecoB-FZAcZj0T2QXf4xtv-w4/s1600/17380041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNADY_NnkHVyPoOPx4UmWzfEdoUQHZeaweD6M4iWsZT5NzfzaSt7UQejJ01pm1vaIxnMzxTbFJVXvkOpJq3Wg6nmZDSosyjNPlGthRh7vw4XpyYb3k0IAecoB-FZAcZj0T2QXf4xtv-w4/s320/17380041.jpg" width="216" /></a>I devoured <i>Longbourn</i> by Jo Baker. I had picked it up at a recent library booksale, as I'd had my eye on the title since its release awhile back. I love me some Austen, so naturally, I was curious about this one. Baker is an excellent writer, and I loved her "version" of <i>Pride and Prejudice</i> from the POV of the servants. Her story runs parallel to Austen's <i>P&P</i> as it follows the Bennet's young servant Sarah, and her life during Austen's famous story. It is obvious Baker researched extensively, as the reader is given in-depth glimpses into the gritty world of a servant in the early nineteenth-century, with blistered hands and pre-dawn work for all! For fans of <i>P&P</i>, or Austenian work in general, <i>Longbourn</i> will be a welcome addition to your bookshelf.<br />
I also snapped up Jodi Picoult's <i>Leaving Time</i> at Costco, as it <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCPE1WnM_lQI18P5EBVMmLNW8r3YcXnf5QiI6JY-54rFBzSDeRmLiRrVkGtYeiA2GEGE0le62FecC6zsf3uUuA7cvN7Cw8knLjmEZO6w6hQZ38EhzkihIEQSRKpdd7O9DFTnkyOA-3H6Y/s1600/Leaving-Time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCPE1WnM_lQI18P5EBVMmLNW8r3YcXnf5QiI6JY-54rFBzSDeRmLiRrVkGtYeiA2GEGE0le62FecC6zsf3uUuA7cvN7Cw8knLjmEZO6w6hQZ38EhzkihIEQSRKpdd7O9DFTnkyOA-3H6Y/s320/Leaving-Time.jpg" width="210" /></a>was one of her newer ones that I hadn't read yet. If you've been reading this blog for awhile, then you know I am a huge Picoult fan. This one however, was on a whole new level. I always seem to immediately get sucked into her novels, and <i>Leaving Time</i> was no exception. It really surprised me how much I enjoyed all the detailed information about elephants! So before I knew it, I was so involved in the characters and the elephants, Picoult did her usual rug-pulling-left-hook-U-turn and I couldn't turn the pages fast enough. I ended up sitting up in bed, bleary-eyed and wired, until FOUR IN THE MORNING. <b>FOUR!</b> And it all ended with me crying over fictional characters, then reluctantly looking at the clock, then almost crying over the time. I haven't read through the night since The Great <i>Time-Traveller's Wife</i> All-Nighter of 2005. Seriously, I never do it - it takes me days to recover, so it is a real testament to Picoult and this book especially. Her books always involve controversial topics, and this one actually had a couple. It tackled the topic of elephants in captivity, as well as the topic of psychic phenomenon. I think another big draw for me was the fact that there was no courtroom scene(s). Picoult's novels usually contain the involvement of a lawyer, but this one didn't! (Admittedly, those are my least favorite scenes in her novels, well-done as they are.) The absence of it was a pleasant surprise, and added to my overall enjoyment of this one. All in all, I can't say anymore. Just go get it and read it. But clear your schedule, first!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPGW4EGbLjtF9RIqAenltu3qky7Rp5Zb4Q-ikTHbhDa9GvaxH7HBazgnHBpuKko_TReifEJP4fsRyPjSS5Oo-0lFNklwupSUUQbSx46fUkLY6ez1pJPWCNqvVjAIg4k_PGKjnqamQVJca/s1600/51HGRKEH4QL._SY344_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPGW4EGbLjtF9RIqAenltu3qky7Rp5Zb4Q-ikTHbhDa9GvaxH7HBazgnHBpuKko_TReifEJP4fsRyPjSS5Oo-0lFNklwupSUUQbSx46fUkLY6ez1pJPWCNqvVjAIg4k_PGKjnqamQVJca/s320/51HGRKEH4QL._SY344_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="211" /></a>After THAT, I needed to change gears, so I am currently reading <i>The Faery Reel</i>, a short story collection edited by the formidable Datlow and Windling. I'm only a short way through it, but quite enjoying the diversity of stories so far.<br />
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Having this little bit of extra time has been great for my sanity too, as it's given me more time to write. I'm slowly making headway on the Norse faerytale I've been working on for awhile. When I don't write enough, I find I get a bit "twitchy," so really it's been good for me and anyone who is around me, lol.<br />
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Hope this summer is bringing you plenty of time to devour some good books, or do whatever it is that makes you...you.<br />
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Cheers,<br />
KelAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-44039989532514331042015-06-15T10:08:00.000-07:002015-06-15T10:08:15.364-07:00Our May<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVn_KIQlJKjPNZS50JGcjqMT7fNasWnWOpqQrMTCLibehoWlJ5HE9iW-kjy91tRsaWCRqqr8xl8WhWtAC39uKk8ICvJU2DqmgPN2kpwu8emiXpfjaY8MuQ3W7tDEL405bYDSp5V4_jC-vv/s1600/DSC01552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVn_KIQlJKjPNZS50JGcjqMT7fNasWnWOpqQrMTCLibehoWlJ5HE9iW-kjy91tRsaWCRqqr8xl8WhWtAC39uKk8ICvJU2DqmgPN2kpwu8emiXpfjaY8MuQ3W7tDEL405bYDSp5V4_jC-vv/s320/DSC01552.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evan playing at the Calgry Suzuki Strings Festival</td></tr>
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Since my last post, we've had some fun here in the Komm house. The kids both had a bunch of concerts and festivals to wrap up. As always, they never fail to amaze me with their gifts (that they certainly did not inherit from me!)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPDXc8FU2T4WzOUrezAwXpRjZfDZAZZb917EBoNDeUTdeJOv4mGlhv5JZuXbygx8SMlf9VBshAPOH-YOpCginswks0enN6_Hf_zJ1SXLf8Drj5158dYVOIWNHZw-fSi826iSUZvQMdwyE/s1600/DSC01544+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPDXc8FU2T4WzOUrezAwXpRjZfDZAZZb917EBoNDeUTdeJOv4mGlhv5JZuXbygx8SMlf9VBshAPOH-YOpCginswks0enN6_Hf_zJ1SXLf8Drj5158dYVOIWNHZw-fSi826iSUZvQMdwyE/s320/DSC01544+%25282%2529.JPG" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ella playing with the ESFRS</td></tr>
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It was nice to go to Calgary for the weekend for Evan's festival, as we had a chance to check out the Spark center (their science center) which was free admission with our family's membership to OUR city's science center. Yay! I love free stuff!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More dino robotics!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWFbGiUmSkOKH11r5d3RrqhcwfXh_lt8P-nH0KGfQd6naNsRjNjAUG0q2oCn67uEMFHpHcQWUAcy3q9mg6RKMr_qadRJo74udi6irB8rAEpx2I5xhNdxxwEqStz8P-_iXu6Sd-PJc-IIXW/s1600/DSC01569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWFbGiUmSkOKH11r5d3RrqhcwfXh_lt8P-nH0KGfQd6naNsRjNjAUG0q2oCn67uEMFHpHcQWUAcy3q9mg6RKMr_qadRJo74udi6irB8rAEpx2I5xhNdxxwEqStz8P-_iXu6Sd-PJc-IIXW/s200/DSC01569.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Science is so cool:)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPzTH-q6UAVjnwEdkhZnHUM68xYebq0cB9ae2Ui1-LCJCLh7650NryElRDSs59inOBoeY_NIAnhLLgie81zYsgYFsrxrUqNNt61W4PPd9fv_VEhhxjVfOyS20afA8US1gCg-Az7oTLScm/s1600/DSC01564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPzTH-q6UAVjnwEdkhZnHUM68xYebq0cB9ae2Ui1-LCJCLh7650NryElRDSs59inOBoeY_NIAnhLLgie81zYsgYFsrxrUqNNt61W4PPd9fv_VEhhxjVfOyS20afA8US1gCg-Az7oTLScm/s200/DSC01564.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dino robotics at the Spark Center</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family shot!</td></tr>
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The kids also had their annual year end school concert, again at the Winspear. As always, it was incredible. This year was a lot of fun, as it featured Canadian and Movie music, so it was a lot of great, familiar music.<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntyh2pvWT-gNVWdt06xLG7dkuIxruo_mkeE4GVN3UP7Zj0QnxWWxxaNKyHLbxV6H8vPBef_vyZjgKeAituxYmHLTEJgtWwHY2S1lgneOLY2r6LRA4pWfC7ciOf8Mb90DlDgnewWHtEnkp/s1600/DSC01587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntyh2pvWT-gNVWdt06xLG7dkuIxruo_mkeE4GVN3UP7Zj0QnxWWxxaNKyHLbxV6H8vPBef_vyZjgKeAituxYmHLTEJgtWwHY2S1lgneOLY2r6LRA4pWfC7ciOf8Mb90DlDgnewWHtEnkp/s320/DSC01587.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quite the show!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sibling love:)</td></tr>
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May ended with the kids and I taking in Eek Fest in St. Albert. It's the only little con I've taken them to, as it's been nice and quiet, now 2 years in a row but they still get to see people in costume, great booths, and fun extras. This year there was an entire arena of Lego, so they both just loved that area. There was a little corner of another arena with "zombie" shotting, which Evan and I did and that was pretty fun:) I love seeing all the artisans at cons, so this one wasn't as fun for me because it is so small, but I love seeing the kids have such a great time.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indiana Jones and Princess Merida:)</td></tr>
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Hope May was good to you too! </div>
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Cheers,</div>
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Kelly</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-8857094522322647612015-04-17T12:15:00.001-07:002015-04-17T12:16:00.152-07:00Another DayMy goodness, I've neglected you! It's so easy to let the things we love to do fall by the wayside when there are so many things that we <i>must</i> do. But I promise, I'll try to be more frequent:)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYl8ei7ntCr5YCHz-BD680oXpbvMPGuhNz60biFvUUo8uzvLIhCwHyUPImFrLump4pGDeLQkgVuS7H1EK65JB4Oo0uRqFtvNlVcuB0aLLhLy551SXNB1y-WnbuaU9UZVnLXUfCawusAvr4/s1600/Ash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYl8ei7ntCr5YCHz-BD680oXpbvMPGuhNz60biFvUUo8uzvLIhCwHyUPImFrLump4pGDeLQkgVuS7H1EK65JB4Oo0uRqFtvNlVcuB0aLLhLy551SXNB1y-WnbuaU9UZVnLXUfCawusAvr4/s1600/Ash.jpg" height="164" width="320" /></a>So, at the end of last year, I downloaded a new app to help organize my books and to prevent buying duplicates. I quite love it, but it made me realize how enormous my collection of books that I haven't read yet is getting. I decided to tackle it logically, and am going through and reading the books I've kept but not read yet, alphabetically. This has forced me to dig in a read the ones I keep putting off. And it's been great! I'm currently on the third book of The Tears of Artamon series by Sarah Ash. Each are really well-done, detailed, epic, dragon fantasies, though my typical need for something new is kicking in, so I'll be happy to finish the 3rd and begin something different.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_UCXf4twajmgfB41pvJmnyJlMj9eLzEI6P4mjCGEQQaN3jTmhK3jaJYHftXObBg1ftUn0EqJJSF0oriCmbUCmZieF7y8eWinl03W4t714MuT4HvUmZOP0RvF8x1uxBpEckOpTCtcHdsO/s1600/WD_Michonne_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_UCXf4twajmgfB41pvJmnyJlMj9eLzEI6P4mjCGEQQaN3jTmhK3jaJYHftXObBg1ftUn0EqJJSF0oriCmbUCmZieF7y8eWinl03W4t714MuT4HvUmZOP0RvF8x1uxBpEckOpTCtcHdsO/s1600/WD_Michonne_01.jpg" height="200" width="141" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Incredible fan art by Trev Murphy<br />
at http://trevmurphy.com/</td></tr>
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I'm super bummed out to be missing the Calgary Expo this year, as I just couldn't afford the expense (what with exploding cars, and such). I wasn't going to go see any celebrities, but I just love being able to walk around and see the art and meet the exhibitors, and see the cosplay. So sad:( Even more so since they announced last minute that Michonne is going to be there. THAT'S a celebrity I would spend my money meeting, dammit. Figures:(<br />
At least I have friends going so they'll be keeping an eye out for me for new art from some of my favorite vendors.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskL9KIzUG_qVOgXxLJgkGFkXyt14tVo8XvdTVUND9jzNVS8UsvuzlQX41xfCNur5h3ORRyhWQdby-cPCr8eH1hblQl5NmhJ5TG2Fz6gecgHNPOxhzZG5WkW2IVc-7V4mpD9IJYQ6MR96C/s1600/Eek-2015-eventbrite-header1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskL9KIzUG_qVOgXxLJgkGFkXyt14tVo8XvdTVUND9jzNVS8UsvuzlQX41xfCNur5h3ORRyhWQdby-cPCr8eH1hblQl5NmhJ5TG2Fz6gecgHNPOxhzZG5WkW2IVc-7V4mpD9IJYQ6MR96C/s1600/Eek-2015-eventbrite-header1.png" height="46" width="200" /></a>That being said, I'm pretty excited to be taking the kids to <a href="http://theeek.com/" target="_blank">EekFest</a> <br />
next month. This little con is family-friendly (and affordable!) and has devoted an entire hall to LEGO this year. My son is going to have an aneurysm when he sees that. Seriously.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYeYGXABdTmu7jnyal_OYu7ahoaPxFHi50QRb4X9L9onWj9VCFTUnBVBq-l9JBp93QzDOLEopAx7EEfGpNoaneCFdlrOaDj247SkAXgAhCqRk6jMmjNtsRRKm6AvQguMa3RWXECQvz6Et/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYeYGXABdTmu7jnyal_OYu7ahoaPxFHi50QRb4X9L9onWj9VCFTUnBVBq-l9JBp93QzDOLEopAx7EEfGpNoaneCFdlrOaDj247SkAXgAhCqRk6jMmjNtsRRKm6AvQguMa3RWXECQvz6Et/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" height="200" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our puppy, Lennon<3</td></tr>
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Well, I'm off to walk the dog. I have a rare day when I'm not working both jobs and actually have the time to walk him in daylight! Better get going before I get used to sitting down and doze off, lol.<br />
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Hope the day treats you well,<br />
KelAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-32521458282779693502015-03-23T11:40:00.000-07:002015-03-23T22:52:44.181-07:00A Quiet Life"<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">I lead a small </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">life</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"> - well, valuable, but small."</span><br>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">- Kathleen Kelly, <i>You've Got Mail</i></span><br>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">When I first heard that line years ago, I loved it, but I didn't know if I could relate. Did I lead a small, quiet, insignificant existence in the vast scheme of this enormous world? Today I experienced a glimpse of what it was like for people who lead much more exciting lives, and I'm still reeling.</span></span></span><br>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">On my way to a town about 30 minutes outside my city, my car began to shake and emit an odd sound. I let off the gas to slow, and was promptly honked at and glared at by "inconvenienced" motorists. Before I knew it, the car let out an explosive belch, and copious amounts of smoke filled the air. In my rear view, I couldn't see anything but smoke. I quickly pulled over, as the cars behind me were blinded by the white smoke billowing from my hood.</span></span></span><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br></span></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Upon pulling over, the smoke continued, so I decided to open the hood and let it air out. It was at this moment I realized I wasn't going to get to the school I was scheduled at, in a timely fashion. Calling my boss, I got out and fiddled to open the hood. As my boss's daughter answered the phone, I lifted the hood to a flame-engulfed engine. I don't quite remember, but I may have cursed and hung up on the poor girl. (My apologies, PMK!) </span></span></span></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br></span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">With visions of exploding vehicles in my head, I snatched my purse out of the passenger seat, and waddled into the knee-high snow to put some distance between me and the impending disaster. I called 911 and despite her varied questions, only seemed to be able to say, "my car is on fire!" I'm sure she thought I was just super capable.</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br></span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">At this point, I turned to see that 2 vehicles had pulled over, and both drivers were yelling at me to get further away, as it was on fire. </span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">"My car is on fire!" I agreed. Massive conversationalist, I am.</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">One man ran over wielding a small fire extinguisher, and he sprayed underneath the car. We managed to get the hood back up again, despite the heat, and he sprayed that sucker out. Well, mostly. It kept flaring up and smoking, but the fire department was on their way. The second motorist invited me to warm up in his car, as I was shaking. It wasn't just the cold, though. Pretty sure I was in shock. </span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">The firefighters arrived, and doused everything. They comforted now-in-full-blown-shock-me and then I was shuffled to a police officer's car, where we waited for the tow truck.</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">The constable eventually dropped me off at a nearby Husky station to wait for my husband. On our way to the tow truck yard, I told the hubby I'd point out where the car had taken it's final breath, only to find it and the tow truck still there. As we pulled up, another tow truck arrived, rushing to the driver's side of the first. As the ambulance arrived, we were told the poor driver had been clipped by a passing vehicle's side mirror while hooking up our car! And the dude that hit him drove off! And no one stopped to help him!</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Sure enough, the same constable showed up ( I waved, stupidly) and eventually we were okay to go.</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">On our way home, I noticed it was only 10:02am. Felt like it had been a hellish day already. </span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Honestly, I'm still a bit rattled. And I'm not sure why. I'm perfectly all right, my kids weren't with me, and I got everything out of the car without incident. Despite losing my only set of wheels, it could have been a lot worse. It made me realize my existence is small. This minor event spun me into repeated bouts of anxiety, and I can't imagine living every day with this kind of craziness. I totally get the line in that film now. Small. Really small. But valuable. </span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Just want to send a few truly grateful thanks into the void: to the gentleman with the extinguisher, I can't thank you enough-you truly saved the day. To the guy who let me warm up in his SUV, (Ryan-from edmonton-but-works-in-Spruce) thanks for your act of kindness. To the firefighters who were totally patient with my panic attack and shock, and to the Constable who waited with me and dropped me off, and didn't make me feel stupid when I had a full-blown panc attack, thanks will never be enough for all you do everyday. To the poor tow truck driver who had to go to the hospital for doing his job, thank you so much, and I am so very sorry that the world is full of people like whoever hit you. (But don't worry, karma will win in the end:)</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br></span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I appreciate my small life sooo much more now. I will take my quiet existence over a loud, dramatic one any day.</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">ANY.</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;">DAY.</span></font></div><div><font color="#545454" face="arial, sans-serif" size="1"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br></span></font></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-54594069560872243202015-02-27T22:37:00.001-08:002015-02-27T22:37:55.929-08:00Pink Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This past week, my kids' school promoted Pink Day, or Anti-Bullying Day, or Pink Shirt Day. Here in Canada, students (or everyone, really) wear a pink shirt (or anything pink) to show their support against bullying. It was begun a few years ago by two Nova Scotian teens who got their student body to all wear pink to rally with a male classmate who was bullied for wearing a pink shirt. It has become a wonderful national symbol.<br />
Now, my kids are very conscious of how they treat others--I've raised them to be so. As someone who was severely bullied, I wanted to make sure they not only treat others with respect, but also have the confidence to stand up against such treatment--to themselves or others.<br />
With regards to my son, I'm not worried...yet. He's full of innocent confidence, and regularly points out to others, even strangers, if he feels someone is being mistreated. He does it so often, that when he was recently thanked for such an act, he couldn't remember the instance! I do feel, however, that such confidence will dissipate with time (and puberty) and it's something I'm going to have to watch for. Among inheriting my eyes, love of books, and outgoing nature, my son also inherited my nasty ability to let people walk all over me.<br />
My daughter is who I'm watching with this right now. She is still so young, and still finding out so much about the nature of people. While she has no problem identifying when someone has been wronged, she has a problem expressing herself to them.<br />
"I was bullied once at afterschool care, Mom," she told me the other day as we were discussing Pink Day.<br />
"Oh, really? What happened?" I asked, (visions of my terror-filled days of being bullied running through my mind)<br />
"I was coloring and a bigger girl came and took my markers."<br />
"What did you say to her?"<br />
"Nothing."<br />
"Why not? You just let her take them?"<br />
"Yes," she shrugged.<br />
I'll admit, I was a little relieved. While my sweet little girl is a joy, she can also being a fiery ball of fury. Part of me is waiting for the phone call that someone wronged my girl, and she responded by laying them out. But I need her to know that her words are just as powerful (if not more so) than her fists.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2yA9ZIm_sCbZgsdyxZwzhipaG2bcEOjHQ371SJpmrr0IxMwK13QXX1fgWjDGv5YZd6dIUr3fSKqwKShoExxIbF7vrE_-9tTqvySkTzoxiI53_Z6oreGFiNXzNTuIec2Ep_vIf2yVouVG/s1600/Stop+bullying.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2yA9ZIm_sCbZgsdyxZwzhipaG2bcEOjHQ371SJpmrr0IxMwK13QXX1fgWjDGv5YZd6dIUr3fSKqwKShoExxIbF7vrE_-9tTqvySkTzoxiI53_Z6oreGFiNXzNTuIec2Ep_vIf2yVouVG/s1600/Stop+bullying.png" height="200" width="171" /></a>"Maybe next time something like that happens, you should say something to the person," I suggest to her, "tell that person you were using those markers, and that you would be happy to share, but that maybe they should ask before taking something that someone is using." She did her super cute "stare-<br />
up-and-to-the-left" that she does when she is absorbing new info, so I know it stuck.<br />
I grew up with an older brother who had me boxing with him after supper every night, so I certainly knew how to use my fists, but I never became comfortable with using my words as weapons. I wish I had.<br />
So cheers to Pink Day, and here's hoping that every day will become like Pink Day, where bullies are outed regularly, and the world finally understands that bullying--at any age, and with words or weapons--will not, and should not EVER be tolerated<3<br />
<br />
-KelAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-92017487028090484572015-02-19T12:14:00.000-08:002015-02-22T10:10:23.679-08:00A Sad WorldI recently had a melancholy day.<br>
My morning was spent running various errands for various purposes. It seemed that every store and interaction I had involved someone who was ignorant, or self-involved, or just plain rude.<br>
<br>
As someone who believes in good manners and positivity, it was disheartening for me. I continue to be flabbergasted by people who choose to live their lives in a way that slowly eats away at them. And I just feel pity for people who are so self-involved that they aren't even aware of their ignorance.<br>
<br>
Example: In the line-up at the local Big Bad Grocery Store, the lady in front of me asks the cashier how long she is working today:<br>
Cashier, dead-eyed: "10 hours."<br>
Ingnorant Lady: "What!? That's crazy!"<br>
Cashier shrugs: "Gotta pay the bills."<br>Ignorant Lady, as she pays with one of her myriad of credit cards from her Coach purse: "Well, that is just stupid. You should just find a better paying job with shorter hours."<br>
<br>
I locked eyes with the cashier at this point, and shook my head, eyebrows raised. I mean, where the hell do people like this come from??<br>
<br>
At the same store, my shopping cart and I were cornered by receiving boxes and bins, and the fellow unpacking product glanced at me briefly before sighing dramatically and moving his stuff. And we're not talking about a moody kid, either. Buddy was a manager. Middle-aged. After I thanked him as I passed, I received not a peep. He didn't even look at me.<br>
<br>
At every other store I visited, the staff just seemed miserable. Is no one doing anything they enjoy anymore? Are we all just slaves to our debt? I just can't live my life like that. I mean, if the majority of our time is spent at our jobs, shouldn't that job give us some joy or sense of accomplishment? I know that it is hard to find joy in some jobs, but finding something, ANYTHING in even the most mundane tasks that can bring you some sense of joy just might save you.<div><br></div><div>Everyone has a bad day once in a while, but living every other day with purpose and passion should be everyone's goal. I mean, what's the point otherwise?</div><div><br></div><div>So I challenge you: live your life purposefully. Live it with passion. Find joy in anything. Hell, find joy in everything! Smile at strangers. Hug your friends more. Share your dreams. Ask about others' dreams. And love freely. Always, love.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-71045620571836787852015-01-24T10:12:00.000-08:002015-01-24T10:12:18.342-08:00Whoops...Whoa. How have more than 2 months passed since I wrote on my blog?! I mean, I'm flabbergasted. Seriously.<br />
So let's backtrack:<br />
<br />
NaNoWriMo finished up without fanfare, I'm afraid. I only hit 31,007 words, as I stalled a bit once <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9xuGM2oeF5_Og2_Xmx54kOeKSyjXo9sN1oMe9fDcH8PsNJT0Tux2638VsrzTwQFkYQ_ACzqwmfJgUVXW9T6C7ml9w5PL2qZJJWYLmEoxTs4GHoEM-8ok-ZA7t7Bu_qkHx2rouXwMvMhuE/s1600/BFF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9xuGM2oeF5_Og2_Xmx54kOeKSyjXo9sN1oMe9fDcH8PsNJT0Tux2638VsrzTwQFkYQ_ACzqwmfJgUVXW9T6C7ml9w5PL2qZJJWYLmEoxTs4GHoEM-8ok-ZA7t7Bu_qkHx2rouXwMvMhuE/s1600/BFF.jpg" height="126" width="200" /></a>my characters started doing things I didn't expect. This has certainly happened before with stories, but I was on a strict outline to meet my 50K and didn't allow myself the luxury of changing lanes on that. As a result, I let my MC run away with things to see where she would go, and I'm finding it very interesting. Unfortunately, exploring that went slowly, and I missed my goal. Ah, well. At least I didn't have the lowest word count among my trio, so I was treated to a lovely sushi dinner with my BFF's. Thanks, Shereney<3 And a massive congrats to my girl Chris, on surpassing 50K for the first time! You go, girl!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSbLEA73RV7RP49Rlp0tEQGCn6FkZxGRzKQjs2vGtaYB7uMGjec8eJ5ZQUW6BRMsQiPjItVMTbvazNGKl0P-eIZwYFhctdwRS-tRN7hzvcq75PHTpgG5dl-ICd63KM-Wbepu8umaFykpkp/s1600/DSC01447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSbLEA73RV7RP49Rlp0tEQGCn6FkZxGRzKQjs2vGtaYB7uMGjec8eJ5ZQUW6BRMsQiPjItVMTbvazNGKl0P-eIZwYFhctdwRS-tRN7hzvcq75PHTpgG5dl-ICd63KM-Wbepu8umaFykpkp/s1600/DSC01447.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPigBCOQy3dZ_etlpUPur3atZDq-L3TgpS-dHQFTEpYEil-LHgcKCqkYIX6SIi6O2otvUe7eaPiLwOVkqSm-8n2S1S_pTFXeGGVKGSrPiM1HRqV5OGWWLr0hku2oJM2ZHzyekHCQNKdTk/s1600/DSC01444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPigBCOQy3dZ_etlpUPur3atZDq-L3TgpS-dHQFTEpYEil-LHgcKCqkYIX6SIi6O2otvUe7eaPiLwOVkqSm-8n2S1S_pTFXeGGVKGSrPiM1HRqV5OGWWLr0hku2oJM2ZHzyekHCQNKdTk/s1600/DSC01444.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>December brought a few things, including the usual craziness of Christmas and illnesses that bombard our house every year. Before that, though, we celebrated my son's 8th(!!!) birthday. He and his friends had a great time, I think. We had a party at the movie theater, where the kids got to play video games on the big screen. They took turns playing the game and running around the theater. Evan also asked for the chocolate-iest chocolatey chocolate cupcakes so I baked him chocolate-chip ones, filled with chocolate mouse, topped with chocolate icing and chocolate sprinkles. They were diabetes-inducing:) He also asked for donations instead of gifts for the 3rd year, and raised almost $300 for the Edmonton Humane Society. Was an awesome day!<br />
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<br />
I also had the opportunity to take my daughter to her first ballet! It was so much fun - she was super excited! We went with my Mom, so it was three generations of lovely ladies in our family. We saw the Nutcracker, and Ella just loved it. And the Alberta Ballet put on an incredible show, while the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra played beautifully.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeO2ZPCfEtJr7UPm7j6UkrUJXBgEJi3C87x01RT1jM5YMUAPZ-HIy05ZTuz-XJov4_pXJLe-HRGxknT4HrKRH5rsq9RvHCZNRFr45ZfaL-PmBdoV1m1kCG677NJ-v7KgWIoSfoyFiWQhS/s1600/DSC01461+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeO2ZPCfEtJr7UPm7j6UkrUJXBgEJi3C87x01RT1jM5YMUAPZ-HIy05ZTuz-XJov4_pXJLe-HRGxknT4HrKRH5rsq9RvHCZNRFr45ZfaL-PmBdoV1m1kCG677NJ-v7KgWIoSfoyFiWQhS/s1600/DSC01461+(2).JPG" height="200" width="142" /></a><br />
We were very fortunate to have a plentiful holiday, with many gifts, friends, and family. Last years Christmas felt like it slipped right by, and I didn't want that again - I love Christmas! So this year we decorated loads, had gifts under the tree to tantalize the kids, and planned a big family dinner with my husband's family. It was a lovely few weeks:) What sucked was catching everyone's germs. I ended up with Strep throat, my sister-in-law got pneumonia, and the hubby's uncle caught some terrible flu/cold thing. Ah, the holidays.<br />
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I will leave you there for now, as 2015 is already bringing exciting things, and I don't want to bore you with a massive post;)<br />
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Cheers,<br />
Kel
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So as like every November for the past decade or so, I participate in the "ain't nobody got time for that" writing competition, <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">NaNoWriMo</a>. For anyone who doesn't know of it, it is a crazy-fun, worldwide writing incentive with a goal to write 50,000 words in the month of November. Some people use it to help get even a few thousand words onto a page, others just barely slide into the 50,000 word winners seat, others still will devote a month and go hardcore, producing a manuscript over 100,000 words in less than a month.<br />
And the competition has evolved from a fledgling group of people in San Francisco nudging people online to get writing, to a well-funded organization with major prize sponsors and author celebrities writing inspirational blog posts urging on participants. I remember when the 50,000 words was the prize, and now there are publishing and book prizes out the wazoo for writers who can do the deed.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDX_iOibxcKP9I4brLn0RmBiaYVvYD1dJvsmg2fYTTuB_t9JPsTRVJqQcYRckVmAjQPFTBAtO6cQrofJV0RwBXl1dM2xBDeEPKpW69oHUKdjQBw5rUXj6HHtjD9LGmzuaVYLna4c73xmc/s1600/57ef70f8f1af7cf8aa8959cf07b43e14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDX_iOibxcKP9I4brLn0RmBiaYVvYD1dJvsmg2fYTTuB_t9JPsTRVJqQcYRckVmAjQPFTBAtO6cQrofJV0RwBXl1dM2xBDeEPKpW69oHUKdjQBw5rUXj6HHtjD9LGmzuaVYLna4c73xmc/s1600/57ef70f8f1af7cf8aa8959cf07b43e14.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>My friends and I always have a mini competition between us, as well. Between the three of us, whoever writes the least amount of words has to buy dinner for the other two. Plus, this year, one of my friends' sister is joining in and she has waaaay more time on her hands, so the ante is really up;)<br />
Yesterday was day one and it went well - I was able to hit my personal goal of 1800 words. Aside from spending the last couple weeks preparing an outline, I also printed and put up a bunch of fun inspirational quotes to keep me motivated. (Yesterday's was the one on the right there:)<br />
More importantly, this month is going to be about me. I've had a hard time staying positive, as writing is part of me, and anyone is going to be unhappy when they aren't doing what they are meant to be doing. So rather than approaching NaNo as something I don't <i>have</i> time for, I'm approaching it as something I'm <i>making</i> time for. Making time for my happiness.<br />
It's about time:)<br />
P.S. If you are battling the NaNo this year, add me as a Writing Buddy! I'm on the site under my maiden name - user KellyChristian. See you on the writing trail!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-69550403075239975992014-10-28T23:15:00.000-07:002014-10-28T23:15:24.772-07:00Booksies!I've been feeling rather empty lately for a number of reasons, one of which is a lack of time to read! It's frustrating that all the things that bring light to our lives are often the ones that must be pushed to the side when we are too busy.<br />
Thus, not too many books to list since my last reading post:<br />
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The Mieville I was reading was sadly set aside as one of my favorite authors' new book came out! It had been a while since her last one in this series, so I was really excited!!!<br />
The third and final in the Shadowfell series, I found The Caller to be a little less...well, just a little <i>less</i>, I suppose. I don't know if she was distracted by other projects in her life, but I found it to be a shade less to her usual standards.<br />
The lore was fantastic, as well as the characters, but I found the story wrapped up a little too neatly, and that this book was just not up to snuff.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjFkU2sJchLnnQXlY2NfjADgF3Pa3txxSSu86eOTCqoIcemnh9e4TcUK6FvyILaQJHEO2_oLA7lORJus9ynBWrSpytELt4bRC6Odt_R3wVxAJdrgITrR4XzqTL1BwTQs99zwqUHNVTrdm/s1600/RR102-l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjFkU2sJchLnnQXlY2NfjADgF3Pa3txxSSu86eOTCqoIcemnh9e4TcUK6FvyILaQJHEO2_oLA7lORJus9ynBWrSpytELt4bRC6Odt_R3wVxAJdrgITrR4XzqTL1BwTQs99zwqUHNVTrdm/s1600/RR102-l.jpg" height="200" width="128" /></a><br />
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While reading this one, I also read a non-fiction on the side - one recommended <br />
by a friend as a 'must-read' for all parents: The Way They Learn. I picked it up right away from the library:) I found it very interesting, and very helpful! I'm often frustrated with how to get through to my daughter sometimes, as well as getting my son to focus. This book basically labels people with semi-specific learning dispositions through a series of questions. It's helpful to label yourself too, and discover better ways to communicate with everyone.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhassvTt8Tk_PfzuuVZtB9hwg9PRwFKsWL89TvEkJUbxtFEc0La8wzf2sobsqf2FIVWjkB0NY89VV74oMutZtkXxeyAIbRG8_7R788AqD88w_bLt7pXig7m82lHoQrxit_OLCb79NBMLG/s1600/a-game-of-thrones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhassvTt8Tk_PfzuuVZtB9hwg9PRwFKsWL89TvEkJUbxtFEc0La8wzf2sobsqf2FIVWjkB0NY89VV74oMutZtkXxeyAIbRG8_7R788AqD88w_bLt7pXig7m82lHoQrxit_OLCb79NBMLG/s1600/a-game-of-thrones.jpg" height="200" width="171" /></a>I am also listening to Game of Thrones on Audiobook while I drive to work. I absolutely love the show, and was curious if they had actually stayed true to the books. I'm only about halfway through the 28 discs (!!!) but so far the show has been very accurate - a rarity!<br />
Worth noting too: the reader, Roy Dotrice, is just brilliant.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7894_DMXoB7ZEpF8rU34bgA0bGPKcP-jdG4kCbhOFOJXiRiyvT5MZevmQRDhrbYCGCiM9737N2wOUEMYTBZGdAQnNC0UteeM6BCWEBhOgXJOGvOzp89JUEsa3iZCVu4Ejy73CRcvbgvwk/s1600/41fd-uSM0QL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7894_DMXoB7ZEpF8rU34bgA0bGPKcP-jdG4kCbhOFOJXiRiyvT5MZevmQRDhrbYCGCiM9737N2wOUEMYTBZGdAQnNC0UteeM6BCWEBhOgXJOGvOzp89JUEsa3iZCVu4Ejy73CRcvbgvwk/s1600/41fd-uSM0QL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a>Now that I'm through The Way They Learn, I picked up a non-fiction <br />
that I thought might help with my tendency to feel overwhelmed in my daily life, called The Organized Mind.<br />
Prominent Canadian author too - win!<br />
Will let you know if it miraculously cures me:)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4U3TwueIAsSS9oLHUx1VbPh93HDFyDYrY88hm-81XWjlFNY46yz_oARD3snVwnVS0xm9PzW1e0B9EyGZg87lciLUwqN8HW03szPkpzRZ4R9ZjrTMjDyNTWoRlm2JBuYy3dYEm3f0WcmM/s1600/tumblr_mvlcokDhGQ1qc0c3bo1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4U3TwueIAsSS9oLHUx1VbPh93HDFyDYrY88hm-81XWjlFNY46yz_oARD3snVwnVS0xm9PzW1e0B9EyGZg87lciLUwqN8HW03szPkpzRZ4R9ZjrTMjDyNTWoRlm2JBuYy3dYEm3f0WcmM/s1600/tumblr_mvlcokDhGQ1qc0c3bo1_500.png" height="200" width="171" /></a>Now, I always have a novel in my bag, but as my favorite fall event is beginning this Saturday, I usually lay off the fiction and depend on Calvin & Hobbes to get me through November.<br />
<br />
Will post in the next few days on all my prep to dominate my NaNoWriMo story this year:-)<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
KellyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-17283691177877669922014-10-21T09:00:00.002-07:002014-10-21T09:00:51.930-07:00The Worst Morning.Ever had "one of those mornings?"<br />
<div>
Here's mine:</div>
<div>
*warning* This is graphic, and may disturb you. (I'm actually serious.)<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Alarm playing. 5-ish am. Lazily hit snooze. Twice.</div>
<div>
Murmer to hubby to wake you when he gets up. It's his birthday, can't forget. You want to get up with him and cook him bacon and eggs-something you never, ever do.</div>
<div>
<br />
Suddenly you are at a hospital. It's not one you've ever been at. </div>
<div>
Walking along the corridor, you see a door on the left holds a post-it note bearing the word, BIRTHS.</div>
<div>
You enter.</div>
<div>
The immaculate room is exactly what you need. You're in labour, after all.<br />
You sit and turn to your husband that has appeared by your side.<br />
"I don't think she's coming today."<br />
He blows his nose. Stupid cold.<br />
The nurse is on your left handing you chopsticks. You narrow your eyes. Chopsticks?<br />
She makes a motion with them and your confusion clears. Of course.<br />
You insert the chopsticks, spreading open the birth canal.<br />
In a rush of blood and fluids, her body comes barreling into the world.<br />
You are ecstatic and hold her writhing, slimy body close to yours and your smile at your husband through your tears. The nurses take her from you to "clean her" and they ask you her name.<br />
You look at your husband.<br />
"We haven't even thought of it," he admits. How did that happen? You can't even recall any names even being a possibility.<br />
You turn to the nurses, and there, sitting up between your stained thighs, sits your daughter.<br />
Cascading amber hair falls to her bottom, barrettes adorn it throughout.<br />
"Oh, sweet girl, you were born with barrettes," you coo.<br />
Of course she was.<br />
Perhaps she should be called Rapunzel, you think.<br />
<br />
But the golden moment is over and you are suddenly in a dank room. Cold, concrete, bare but for a full-length mirror. You are in front of it, nude, a hand on your flat stomach. Where did the swell go?<br />
A grey bed appears behind you. You scramble onto it, laying on your back, frantically pressing into your stomach.<br />
One orange-sized lump rolls beneath your fingers.<br />
Breathe.<br />
Wait, what is that?<br />
Another lump. It rolls freely. Downward. Downward.<br />
You pull it from your loins.<br />
A small fetus, blue and alien, torn umbilical cord hanging...<br />
<br />
"Mom. Mom! Look what time it is!"<br />
My son is shaking me now. It is 7:24 am. We usually leave for school at 7:40.<br />
Shit.<br />
"Wake up your sister! I'll take the dog out! Then get yourself some breakfast!"<br />
The dream is still lingering, my hands are shaking as I grab my sweater and get the door into the yard. I quickly wash, yelling instructions to the kids and the three of us manage to leave for school six minutes before the bell goes. 8:19 am.<br />
It sinks in that the hubby left without any fanfare for his birthday, and the dream won't leave me. It makes me ill. The hubby and I decided a long time ago that we were done having kids.<br />
It also takes me a while naturally to just "wake-up." Thus, it's not until I'm done getting the kids to class and driving to work before I actually begin to comprise coherent thoughts.<br />
Text manager: coffee?<br />
Thank God she said yes. This is definitely a Grande Pumpkin Spiced Latte Morning.<br />
With a Pumpkin Scone.<br />
(And an Oat Bar.)<br />
And wine later.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-81824018185461531832014-09-29T11:58:00.001-07:002014-09-29T12:04:04.936-07:00Kitschy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxGPMq286nkTU6WRcMtW36EEGSb9uVfIJxOhAOR0PDFZMZlx1QwIbRCwfU22TQbH7B_3fGUM8LY2wrOlYA5UP9UqGKsid5tz6z6mLKUE6I_n0ANZDOj2AunmkACkZ2RqP_2Cg6E0UR2Tm/s1600/2d7b45b6186ce470922429e813277572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxGPMq286nkTU6WRcMtW36EEGSb9uVfIJxOhAOR0PDFZMZlx1QwIbRCwfU22TQbH7B_3fGUM8LY2wrOlYA5UP9UqGKsid5tz6z6mLKUE6I_n0ANZDOj2AunmkACkZ2RqP_2Cg6E0UR2Tm/s1600/2d7b45b6186ce470922429e813277572.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>So the other day I was baking scones. As usual, I was multi-tasking and doing 17 other things while they cooked, until I sniffed and realized they were done. Not really thinking, I took them out and went to turn off the timer, only to find I hadn't set it at all.<br />
It's things like this that make me wistful.<br />
You see, I would love to open a bakery. I love to bake - I do it almost everyday, just to give myself a little bit of peace. But I also love books and I think a little bakery/bookshoppe/tea place would be a lovely thing to run. I know I would love it.<br />
But then I think, "oh, this city doesn't need another little kitschy tea bakery, I would likely fail." Or I think, "to run your own shop you would really need a killer sense of business and ass-loads of confidence. Fail."<br />
So my dream-shop falls by the wayside and I just keep on keepin' on.<br />
*sigh*Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-10596684383345862742014-09-09T20:48:00.000-07:002014-09-09T21:00:42.571-07:00Readin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTrMJzNOVU5SUl87-EkIeHQCiNQFjCMl9oqThDI0hoER04b6i3gZRF9NZOHToA7c-HStt4h7MvcqEYbNicU7foTG6DLeL17vHkg7MNLATvUPwAQA8G87p_ig33UnEz56ENneouaB8QS79n/s1600/time-keeper_240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTrMJzNOVU5SUl87-EkIeHQCiNQFjCMl9oqThDI0hoER04b6i3gZRF9NZOHToA7c-HStt4h7MvcqEYbNicU7foTG6DLeL17vHkg7MNLATvUPwAQA8G87p_ig33UnEz56ENneouaB8QS79n/s1600/time-keeper_240.jpg" height="200" width="140" /></a></div>
So I finished up <i>The Time-Keeper</i> by Mitch Album. It was terribly unique, and I quite liked it! Unlike anything I often read, so it was a good one to try. It was also unlike what I had read of his before, so that was a surprise, but a pleasant one:)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmswNiMNfiVRkMghzdWaWcDXm5AiEPM4EvJ1e_t89XSqP4cwOMpzLVMYsNMIjlex3Rr6bUVk510J32VhJYOOfD_KoAWZb3i2F0qkT1__pYpmzLRG1w7QYySTYxP5eWOscGx4m471muWmqS/s1600/0f5d435fdf08c89a973fbc8d7f52b343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmswNiMNfiVRkMghzdWaWcDXm5AiEPM4EvJ1e_t89XSqP4cwOMpzLVMYsNMIjlex3Rr6bUVk510J32VhJYOOfD_KoAWZb3i2F0qkT1__pYpmzLRG1w7QYySTYxP5eWOscGx4m471muWmqS/s1600/0f5d435fdf08c89a973fbc8d7f52b343.jpg" height="140" width="200" /></a><br />
I seriously need to reign in my book-buying, as my TBR pile grew into a shelf, and has now taken over a bookcase. Really, I need<br />
help.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifucXrcUkst6JUud0Em3MFYj5Z05rctWZWr748wZibMPh9VyjD1nA6DVZHMNPVCSyuAPeR_4rW4LRs2V4v95y2y_hKKt55Dhvvv1w35z_yIpcWQUf8805kSbQjcRWPknPn1cHkbBZaRO4y/s1600/41fkIEn9F4L._SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifucXrcUkst6JUud0Em3MFYj5Z05rctWZWr748wZibMPh9VyjD1nA6DVZHMNPVCSyuAPeR_4rW4LRs2V4v95y2y_hKKt55Dhvvv1w35z_yIpcWQUf8805kSbQjcRWPknPn1cHkbBZaRO4y/s1600/41fkIEn9F4L._SL500_AA300_.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><br />
So, when looking at the overwhelming pile/shelf/bookcase, I did what anyone would do...I chose a totally different book that technically isn't on that bookcase, Hehe. I felt like tackling one of the Austen's that I haven't read yet, so I began <i>Emma</i>. (I haven't ever read it, so it still counts, right?) This unfortunately became the first of a run of books the began, but were never finished. While I love Austen, my life just did not allow me to become absorbed in <i>Emma. </i>I wanted to read it, but I feel like Austen requires more time than I had at that time. So it went back to the shelf until I can give it the time it deserves.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Xt3khCqGaIkqN3lsGt8OVOMCP5PBnaFMj7NiBVoYvdv_E3YVBRplIcbs3bO808ufzMvpSziwVj8uKpwR1ZVphYXkTF6Cw21CBWcSZhvja9HOwUIfl8cVLps5ohW67Q5aEutgRNg9afww/s1600/Outlander.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Xt3khCqGaIkqN3lsGt8OVOMCP5PBnaFMj7NiBVoYvdv_E3YVBRplIcbs3bO808ufzMvpSziwVj8uKpwR1ZVphYXkTF6Cw21CBWcSZhvja9HOwUIfl8cVLps5ohW67Q5aEutgRNg9afww/s1600/Outlander.jpg" height="200" width="120" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
I searched my TBR shelves again and was too indecisive, and ended up wandering over to my shelves of fiction that I had already read and picked up Diana Gabaldon's first novel, <i>Outlander</i>, as I knew the TV series would be coming out soon. It has been so long since I read the original, I barely <br />
remembered it! But it was a fun, fluffy read even the second go around. I was perfectly content with reading about the drool-worthy Jamie Fraser. I mean, honestly. Such a chore:)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Bdn-pkcLS6LhlfTqGxD4CCjFKOm-fQ2aWhcjR7MdGZoBue8lLav6GXtfayW3RnDmXfaR3OBmXr1LWUxh8g3IEpGJXpgnNX9aTmz9ecwMdOrcGnJALJXkGloW48gdhaxemnx2msriLu3y/s1600/Jamie+Fraser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Bdn-pkcLS6LhlfTqGxD4CCjFKOm-fQ2aWhcjR7MdGZoBue8lLav6GXtfayW3RnDmXfaR3OBmXr1LWUxh8g3IEpGJXpgnNX9aTmz9ecwMdOrcGnJALJXkGloW48gdhaxemnx2msriLu3y/s1600/Jamie+Fraser.jpg" height="140" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0QYkbrtI6ZYxB6lk1Co76zKCosZ8j2fzfPTV2ZoifvQQBQ_qCQ2Z1C_a_GNmaklwtV9RVBmRyqxWgxzw_dutjvWU3YS-1Zu1Ya-XSVxec_c3CpgX5RgdWc5hBJ7m__JAFlxNr9sO3NRQ/s1600/Jamie+Fraser+art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0QYkbrtI6ZYxB6lk1Co76zKCosZ8j2fzfPTV2ZoifvQQBQ_qCQ2Z1C_a_GNmaklwtV9RVBmRyqxWgxzw_dutjvWU3YS-1Zu1Ya-XSVxec_c3CpgX5RgdWc5hBJ7m__JAFlxNr9sO3NRQ/s1600/Jamie+Fraser+art.jpg" height="320" width="183" /></a>And then looking at the pictures that were coming out to promote the new Starz show. It was fun to re-read with that simultaneously happening. And sooooo hard to look at those...just terrible:) And I just have to post this amazing art by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/natiraart/photos_stream" target="_blank">Natira</a>. Seriously. Yum, right? And click on her name to go check out more of the stunning work on her Facebook page.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdnzCHgu8DdcQRUArvpUUThyz6WHeFkfeeN2-U8gaoOlOx9pb-bxpjzuaDNXZz-Cxt79clkceXJcWazIP9wvsXTyEF5I3me5mllyJaxbprtmooYW6foW5nzNR3b7P8GqrAhwuiuQVfQSX/s1600/Boy,+Snow,+Bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdnzCHgu8DdcQRUArvpUUThyz6WHeFkfeeN2-U8gaoOlOx9pb-bxpjzuaDNXZz-Cxt79clkceXJcWazIP9wvsXTyEF5I3me5mllyJaxbprtmooYW6foW5nzNR3b7P8GqrAhwuiuQVfQSX/s1600/Boy,+Snow,+Bird.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a>Anyhoo, got a little sidetracked there, my bad.<br />
<br />
After <i>Outlander</i> I picked up <i>Boy, Snow, Bird</i> by Helen Oyeyemi. I really enjoyed the translation of the "Evil Stepmother" role into this early twentieth-century, abused protagonist. As I got further into it (about 1/3), I felt again that it required more time and thought than I was granting it, and ended up putting it down. I want to read it when I can truly give it the attention it deserves.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQsMsqYx-RGgsPqtVGKm07Qev8hyfXeaJ0hvhNm7U_pZj_X5CPvYQZbCTKs9ejPo5MjbveKCUUgpcKQsZcOhbkf-3sCDqmWdix9KDQm7S936mgHQNJGShFVKZ4UC2qlNQLv8MfUas8rnQ/s1600/Conjured.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQsMsqYx-RGgsPqtVGKm07Qev8hyfXeaJ0hvhNm7U_pZj_X5CPvYQZbCTKs9ejPo5MjbveKCUUgpcKQsZcOhbkf-3sCDqmWdix9KDQm7S936mgHQNJGShFVKZ4UC2qlNQLv8MfUas8rnQ/s1600/Conjured.jpg" height="200" width="138" /></a></div>
I stumbled back to my shelves, determined to find something that would survive the "5-minutes here, 5-minutes there" schedule that was all I could afford. On a whim, I snatched <i>Conjured</i> by Sarah Beth Durst. I barely read a few pages before I knew it wasn't what I wanted at the time, and put it back.<br />
<br />
Let me just state, this isn't like me. I usually find exactly what I'm looking for<br />
and read like hell. To pick up 3 books in such a short time and not find the time/ mood/ whatever to finish them is unheard of in my world. And kind of disturbing. I HATE not having a book on hand that I can delve into. Makes me feel so...bare:-( The only thing I can think that may have contributed was that I was listening to a a lot of audiobooks at the time. I had previously listened to The Hunger Games on audiobook, so while redecorating the kids' rooms and driving back and forth to work, I listened to<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsBvM1Cg63r2QDkT3zV__pwQTHq00bQz4pxtLbcD8hyzYz4gXbbRNZA5xHDsz5P41imP4_kbQLHouf2fFWvy5VmfvQHYcR0NAF-o6LKDi8F5jq_etAl94IhYEK42IVRMGtFME8k_7ETn-/s1600/HungerGames+Trilogy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsBvM1Cg63r2QDkT3zV__pwQTHq00bQz4pxtLbcD8hyzYz4gXbbRNZA5xHDsz5P41imP4_kbQLHouf2fFWvy5VmfvQHYcR0NAF-o6LKDi8F5jq_etAl94IhYEK42IVRMGtFME8k_7ETn-/s1600/HungerGames+Trilogy.jpg" height="79" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgzfAYsWfZTH1HSWJaALh0AMIVTdGuKpAtbPitajFJFYsVTkVDWqB6CBxBt04YtRbZd1hXZmxUcY6kMw4hTgJLq6J-9Q-7iwkCuH1rnuQSF2A1E-icB3RQgteevRgcODard4Lxyxla1e1/s1600/Eve+novel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgzfAYsWfZTH1HSWJaALh0AMIVTdGuKpAtbPitajFJFYsVTkVDWqB6CBxBt04YtRbZd1hXZmxUcY6kMw4hTgJLq6J-9Q-7iwkCuH1rnuQSF2A1E-icB3RQgteevRgcODard4Lxyxla1e1/s1600/Eve+novel.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a><i>Catching Fire</i> and <i>Mockingjay</i> by Suzanne Collins. Although, now to think of it, I tried out <i>Eve: A Novel of the First Woman</i> by Elissa Elliott, but the discs were terribly scratched. I ended up having to return the set unfinished. Maybe the library jinxed me all along... <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8Z1SBQG7lCjUqY6vVvP6hgxLw131pH82DmT5AGesnAWxN5EsUL4in55os287xhOEKWXdTekxN2y5mpeTPi2jwSKb1L0CaLAac0nO4yg_IyRvRj-mIzhhRRXJRGTGW1oke_GIwxnQkbXZ/s1600/Railsea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8Z1SBQG7lCjUqY6vVvP6hgxLw131pH82DmT5AGesnAWxN5EsUL4in55os287xhOEKWXdTekxN2y5mpeTPi2jwSKb1L0CaLAac0nO4yg_IyRvRj-mIzhhRRXJRGTGW1oke_GIwxnQkbXZ/s1600/Railsea.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a>Next on the chopping block is <i>Railsea</i> by China Miéville. I mean honestly, what better to curb my indecisiveness than a teen novel in the spirit of Moby Dick, but with trains instead of ships, and monstrous, King Kong-esque moles instead of whales? Sweet:) I'm only a few chapters into this one, but am immensely enjoying it so far. This is my first Miéville novel, and I love his style of description. And his ability to make what otherwise would sound ridiculous, seem dangerous, mysterious, and even enticing. Cross your fingers for me, folks! And stay tuned!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-69154336574566015662014-08-08T22:45:00.002-07:002014-08-08T22:45:44.403-07:00Ella's New RoomSo one of the things I wanted to do this summer was redecorate both of the kids' rooms for them. Once we got the okay from our awesome landlords, I went to work! Ella got her turn first:)<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mXHCg-1uB68Qappiy1uJWO1UO-LGbQHQLe4u02tys0wn-PhyphenhyphenF7IE2b6hSuhQrHUD3dX_5fWUeVzsPw0n0HeUoR_IwuFDiqvrYSwJklqKauwvJzLfGKwj7Jict4gD_pJ7xkBMFAvc20Rw/s1600/IMG_1214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mXHCg-1uB68Qappiy1uJWO1UO-LGbQHQLe4u02tys0wn-PhyphenhyphenF7IE2b6hSuhQrHUD3dX_5fWUeVzsPw0n0HeUoR_IwuFDiqvrYSwJklqKauwvJzLfGKwj7Jict4gD_pJ7xkBMFAvc20Rw/s1600/IMG_1214.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As you can see, the room needed some colour!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As many 5-year-old girls, Ella loves Frozen, and requested her room have as much of that theme as possible. I saw that there were a zillion decals, comforters, drapes, and even furniture coated in Elsa and Anna, but I didn't want to spend a fortune. Call me crazy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wlOufzRgEZdO5j1LhyphenhyphenDKoMlhssA7E6RiVfEK-Lc_SZ_kZnFuYK1CUt13sFWR6dnlcHNRQDWCtUrLnr30lUu35h1UfVq5GhGfytFl7zk0LNQy8IWNbHk_MiKp_1HVDfMYT5Ofx-nffPaJ/s1600/IMG_1217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wlOufzRgEZdO5j1LhyphenhyphenDKoMlhssA7E6RiVfEK-Lc_SZ_kZnFuYK1CUt13sFWR6dnlcHNRQDWCtUrLnr30lUu35h1UfVq5GhGfytFl7zk0LNQy8IWNbHk_MiKp_1HVDfMYT5Ofx-nffPaJ/s1600/IMG_1217.JPG" height="149" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One end of the room.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUyD_azx2aFV49nhe9p_pG_s0txkB_FLzyIEQeY9mk2yfkZOCGX5yAA_wND82LIZJrwysa-EbZ6b-ocPh4D93Bo5gBmjt6EL5IJAcONHxQyzeX_wlGf4LanJP7VhuYxgjaQDGEl1GMI05/s1600/IMG_1219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUyD_azx2aFV49nhe9p_pG_s0txkB_FLzyIEQeY9mk2yfkZOCGX5yAA_wND82LIZJrwysa-EbZ6b-ocPh4D93Bo5gBmjt6EL5IJAcONHxQyzeX_wlGf4LanJP7VhuYxgjaQDGEl1GMI05/s1600/IMG_1219.JPG" height="149" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the other end.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I began by having Ella pick her 2 favorite colours off of her Frozen poster. She picked a baby pink, and what we've titled, "Elsa Blue."<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgrrqG8a3b0gJBuqgrJqHMfoAlj9tpm9Hxt77Kzbz3miWl6z1S6OuUBR2xXYxOl47iUJ2ZC0BFMBeidIrpN08arWhB6n3020Ox3N0gZZIVNcFES51Ywp6_oKrn8Cy6RAzlnqCEt5Tv2rF/s1600/IMG_1339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgrrqG8a3b0gJBuqgrJqHMfoAlj9tpm9Hxt77Kzbz3miWl6z1S6OuUBR2xXYxOl47iUJ2ZC0BFMBeidIrpN08arWhB6n3020Ox3N0gZZIVNcFES51Ywp6_oKrn8Cy6RAzlnqCEt5Tv2rF/s1600/IMG_1339.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I scored these sheer drapes in "Elsa Blue" for $9 at Ikea. Win!</td></tr>
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So Ella really loved this decal of Elsa, but all the places I found it at online would have worked out to more than $40 with shipping for an 8X10 decal. Instead, I whipped out the paintbrush and painted it myself. While it lacks the perfection of the decal, I'm pretty happy with it:)<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqDlWyyR84MmL0T0Hh-cpiaQM8mbaHzaNp_f5PQf9avzMzjd8QSAm0YyPGYFYc056zoo-dbqTHNtY3tjaXZVwDK40fUjujQncY0LvfkDOtHiG_14ffa42MvXPcGjFexIzKoajEGHzh7ZT/s1600/IMG_1230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqDlWyyR84MmL0T0Hh-cpiaQM8mbaHzaNp_f5PQf9avzMzjd8QSAm0YyPGYFYc056zoo-dbqTHNtY3tjaXZVwDK40fUjujQncY0LvfkDOtHiG_14ffa42MvXPcGjFexIzKoajEGHzh7ZT/s1600/IMG_1230.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa silhouette</td></tr>
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Instead of buying both the kids' new beds, Ella was happy to take her brother's loft-style Ikea bed. I painted all the (previously) blue panels on it a lovely, dark "Anna purple," as we called it. (Same purple I used for the Elsa silhouette above.) It's quite light in the picture below, but it's just the flash. On the panel at the foot of her bed, I painted the design on Anna's dress.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaANqzXttnj3aKWArfdbYHjdPxkEaPe30rfDNl6pgFq5GaQ7zT6Cwsz6ihh9pksb9TXbVEA0RHBWdUCBfOnKr9IZn_fywBnkV6DyKB6RV7kgmouUnmPx7mcLM9qmX7qZSYB8lWzMrWQ88S/s1600/IMG_1344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaANqzXttnj3aKWArfdbYHjdPxkEaPe30rfDNl6pgFq5GaQ7zT6Cwsz6ihh9pksb9TXbVEA0RHBWdUCBfOnKr9IZn_fywBnkV6DyKB6RV7kgmouUnmPx7mcLM9qmX7qZSYB8lWzMrWQ88S/s1600/IMG_1344.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna's dress design.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I had searched on different sites to try and find a way to store Ella's princess dolls in a way so that their hair wouldn't become a rat's nest every time she pulled them from the toy box. I found different pictures on Pinterest that led me to sites where the parents of children with expensive American Girl dolls had come up with ways to store them carefully. While Ella's dolls are nowhere near as expensive, she just didn't want to play with them looking so disheveled, and then, what's the point of having them? <div>
In the end, I kind of came up with my own idea, then shocked the hell out of myself when it actually worked!</div>
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I bought inexpensive moulding, then measured and cut it to comfortably fit 3 of her dolls across evenly. I then painted them in the "Anna Purple" we had been using for accent in the room, and measured and drilled holes the width of the dolls torso's. I inserted cheap pegs (the kind you see in a store on pegboard holding up merchandise) and the dolls hang on the pegs by their underarms. It matches her room, is secure and child-safe, and gives her a great way to keep her dolls (and their hair) pretty and safe! Gotta admit, I was wicked-proud of myself for this one:-D<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouK2xBpOECJc-YU2Nd-PUHjWfyherSoAxoHL0UhlXyaYAisfEkWY0RTpWDTCXR40fBSMkV_iyX7vcg45E9LleJpEgi5Olg56oL8FJPnDQxF1yocWpI4G2Ug1CGDbGn7A4zX2wY0U4fOOi/s1600/IMG_1276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouK2xBpOECJc-YU2Nd-PUHjWfyherSoAxoHL0UhlXyaYAisfEkWY0RTpWDTCXR40fBSMkV_iyX7vcg45E9LleJpEgi5Olg56oL8FJPnDQxF1yocWpI4G2Ug1CGDbGn7A4zX2wY0U4fOOi/s1600/IMG_1276.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mad skillz;)</td></tr>
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I had done so well expense-wise, I decided to splurge on one item for her room. She really didn't need a new comforter, so I went for a stroll on the Etsy website and found a super-cute decal with one of Ella's favorite lines from the movie. And it was available in the "Anna Purple" with decent shipping prices! Sold!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkVlnFV_Nl9YfO5xmay-DvkZcpFGExDFkaSm5sY1aVzo2EkiP8D2TA13vGiYsYrSP47S-HpHdI7-e4KblFtjUSKlKtgg-MOvlHzmwglbfh1Zq9VsTWYWOX-TSWmODFmM3YMNPYpFH4MvU/s1600/IMG_1288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkVlnFV_Nl9YfO5xmay-DvkZcpFGExDFkaSm5sY1aVzo2EkiP8D2TA13vGiYsYrSP47S-HpHdI7-e4KblFtjUSKlKtgg-MOvlHzmwglbfh1Zq9VsTWYWOX-TSWmODFmM3YMNPYpFH4MvU/s1600/IMG_1288.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh, child-Anna, you're too cute:)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So her room is all finished, but for some last minute small character decals I found on sale at Walmart. There is one bare wall however, but I have plans for it. I might have seen a gorgeous Elsa and Anna print at Calgary's comic-con that I will pick up from the artist's site and have framed. Maybe;)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMmov6RPGiZPGpdyCBZNhqnJAqSJOBQ12XdnygyWctYDi5yOZ-nEELmL5mTFrsESWrNS9mCRWrLMQt4qED9WD1lRCKSo_jA7hgK1Td5F6mK9jl9-AswTa85_nBNywjjg-Ls0ndfc5Yu2U/s1600/IMG_1340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMmov6RPGiZPGpdyCBZNhqnJAqSJOBQ12XdnygyWctYDi5yOZ-nEELmL5mTFrsESWrNS9mCRWrLMQt4qED9WD1lRCKSo_jA7hgK1Td5F6mK9jl9-AswTa85_nBNywjjg-Ls0ndfc5Yu2U/s1600/IMG_1340.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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It looks so much more inviting and playful, and Ella loves it, which is most important. And I love that for paint, drapes, decals and new decor, I did it all for under $160 and about 3 solid days of work. But throw on an audiobook, and away I went;)</div>
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Next up: Evan's room!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-60956052899484703932014-08-03T13:14:00.001-07:002014-08-03T13:19:49.276-07:00Cringer<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjt5wptVHXVua7ig0YEDQdIBk8BftR6L2C1l0BDH_S5Pk3GoRzLUZu1HArNsMDQYuodhl7tpdADYNU9UtCQPQzxVNJ7giSwPRtVZ3zTSP-R57Q9VBa1oerHgvyAB_-jnxoCucc6uruhja/s1600/HP1audio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjt5wptVHXVua7ig0YEDQdIBk8BftR6L2C1l0BDH_S5Pk3GoRzLUZu1HArNsMDQYuodhl7tpdADYNU9UtCQPQzxVNJ7giSwPRtVZ3zTSP-R57Q9VBa1oerHgvyAB_-jnxoCucc6uruhja/s1600/HP1audio.jpg" height="200" width="170" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bit frustrating that only the<br />
altered American version of the book<br />
is available to us, but I explained the<br />
changes as the story went along.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So my son and I reached an exciting milestone together: we listened to the first of the Harry Potter books on audio book. He is only 7, but his reading and comprehension are quite good, and he's shown an interest in the stories - so we went for it.<br />
He (and my 5-year old, who was half-listening) absolutely loved it! He asked questions and geeked out with me, and it was just a blast. As a long-time lover of all the books, I had been waiting for this adventure to begin for my son and I.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8BB2jKPZETTxbWtCRg5PYiUBog4VOuqy7PZsuz6DEbIXbfM_GvF-4QVioi2jBYmXhG5P0I6ypzwE6eFHGBfEfu1il_v7xIL_0zijMUfNagy7jlLD7ScfwCbAGomLfWHc-4-VF_hKAA95/s1600/download+(5).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8BB2jKPZETTxbWtCRg5PYiUBog4VOuqy7PZsuz6DEbIXbfM_GvF-4QVioi2jBYmXhG5P0I6ypzwE6eFHGBfEfu1il_v7xIL_0zijMUfNagy7jlLD7ScfwCbAGomLfWHc-4-VF_hKAA95/s1600/download+(5).jpg" height="200" width="134" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That friggin' picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Once we had finished the book, I told him we could watch the movie together. (I would not let him watch the movie without reading/hearing the book first, unlike many of his friends who had already seen the film. I'm a mean Mom like that:) We finally had the opportunity to begin the movie, and as I prepared some snacks, he pulled out my Blu-Ray collection of all 8 films. He opened the case, to reveal a picture in the inside sleeve promoting the 8th movie. This image of Voldemort terrified him and he came into the kitchen and told me he didn't want to watch it anymore.I explained that nothing in that picture was in this first movie, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. He was emphatic; there was no movie happening. I let my anger get the best of me, as I had been so looking forward to sharing this with him, and I was unfair and angry toward him. Not my finest hour.<br />
Now, in my defence, Evan's irrational fears have caused issues before. He isn't afraid of the dark, or being in a basement alone, or speaking/playing music/acting in front of others. He <i>is</i> afraid of scary images, strangers stealing him, running out of gas in the car, and camping during a storm. While kidnapping is a valid concern, I don't want him living his life in fear. It's the same for seeing this picture of Voldemort. I'm aware the other movies are not appropriate for him, and I would never let him watch them right now. So upon discovering that this incarnation of Voldemort is not in the first film, I wanted Evan to accept that, and watch it with me.When he wouldn't, I felt his fear was irrational, and frankly, it pissed me off.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgeFMGzKQHB0LMTYv7eKYiCcJfzxeczUmKSZqOa54DQqSKaSNksGG4IT5frIz4Qi7LdwjdhYgmBQpfi1Hn2CUiMBGM6n3U-90pbw2zgrpB57QjLh5suwMeOCC63jaD6TkRKGuBzLVHcxuG/s1600/cringer-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgeFMGzKQHB0LMTYv7eKYiCcJfzxeczUmKSZqOa54DQqSKaSNksGG4IT5frIz4Qi7LdwjdhYgmBQpfi1Hn2CUiMBGM6n3U-90pbw2zgrpB57QjLh5suwMeOCC63jaD6TkRKGuBzLVHcxuG/s1600/cringer-2.jpg" height="145" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Man up, Cringer.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It sometimes seems like he is too cautious, too anxious, too afraid. A friend has likened him to Cringer from He-Man. But how to I get Evan to discover the Battlecat inside? The next day, I actually texted this friend after the failed HP movie attempt, sharing my frustration.<br />
She completely understood my frustration and was very sage in her reply:<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Healthy fear is a positive. The odd irrational fear is part of the human experience. But literally being so afraid of things, imaginary things, things that can't get you and aren't even part of the experience you're about to have, being that afraid that you can't partake in life? Insane. And problematic. Because what happens when real life throws scary curve balls? Part of fear - most of fear - is learning to live with and through it. Learning to face it."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Reading this calmed me </span>down<span style="font-family: inherit;"> immensely. She validated my feelings and gave me the fortitude to talk to Evan the way I should have when he first told me he was scared. I showed him a picture of Ralph Fiennes and explained calmly that Voldemort was the result of a lot of makeup, digital imagery, and excellent acting. I <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJOBnA7j9DXWw4In1XXCq5JV8NufwBVfx-2HDzJP2qPWPP0-dbUce_uiGTqisJTbBnWFYfftKlu6jkV9Bxq-VStueG32MDtkiMZM9YogcWxddJ9iqLVCh8ZKOFu35Yu5upk5muouUh4HU/s1600/img-thing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJOBnA7j9DXWw4In1XXCq5JV8NufwBVfx-2HDzJP2qPWPP0-dbUce_uiGTqisJTbBnWFYfftKlu6jkV9Bxq-VStueG32MDtkiMZM9YogcWxddJ9iqLVCh8ZKOFu35Yu5upk5muouUh4HU/s1600/img-thing.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quirrelmort</td></tr>
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also made it very clear that what he saw in the picture was not in the first film. Then I reminded him that he knew exactly what to expect: we had listened to the audiobook and knew exactly what we were going to see. I told him that the only image I could think of that he might not like was Quirrel-mort, (which, granted, is rather disturbing) and if he wasn't ready for that part, we could fast-forward it. But I wanted him to conquer his fear and watch the rest of the movie, at the very least. He listened and decided to go for it.</span><br />
We hunkered down and began.<br />
Through the film, he exclaimed and hooted in excitement. He loved knowing what was going to happen next, and recognized scenes from the book. After the wizard chess part, Evan practically bolted from the room, knowing what was coming. He peered from a distance at various parts of the scene between Harry and Quirrelmort, but ultimately admitted he flat out didn't like it. I get that. When it comes down to it, it is a terribly freaky thing to see. It's one thing to imagine in your mind while reading it, but seeing a realistic interpretation could definitely be scary for a child.<br />
By the end, as the Hogwarts Express puffed into the distance, Evan was besotted. He threw on his Gryffindor cloak and wore it with pride.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8oJap1wnqgtY48piz_f6HAtga47ttCpYTMXkZ71w6fg52Mc9x3gs1TqV20azTshsrFCHLyWGcwUbqTiQ_zNEJG7GQZ0u-D0PLxq_S6SqH7m42iH6BsrizoecJtYnnm4tqcdyFDy4Fc16/s1600/images+(7).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8oJap1wnqgtY48piz_f6HAtga47ttCpYTMXkZ71w6fg52Mc9x3gs1TqV20azTshsrFCHLyWGcwUbqTiQ_zNEJG7GQZ0u-D0PLxq_S6SqH7m42iH6BsrizoecJtYnnm4tqcdyFDy4Fc16/s1600/images+(7).jpg" height="114" width="200" /></a>For me, I was so proud that he decided to brave the movie, and saw that there was nothing to be afraid of.<br />
He also asked me when we could read the second book, which I told him wouldn't happen for a while.<br />
"You'd be <i>petrified</i>," I said.<br />
He just raised an eyebrow as I laughed hysterically.<br />
I am just so excited to finally share Harry's adventure with him:-D<br />
On a side note, when I was surfing Pinterest the other day, I found a link to an awesome blog post chronicling a grown man's experience with watching the first movie, for the first time. He subtitled it: "<span style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: ProximaNovaSemibold, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Wood! Balls! Murder!</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"> I can’t believe I waited this long."</span> It is hilarious!<br />
Check it out here: <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/danieldalton/wood-4-wood">http://www.buzzfeed.com/danieldalton/wood-4-wood</a>.<br />
Regarding the subject of kids and anxiety/panic/worry, please share your advice! While this is a bump in the road, he has had legit panic attacks and I know all this worry, etc will continue. As someone who battles with panic/anxiety disorder, I'm equipped ( I think) to help him should he develop it too, but I truly, truly, TRULY hope this is just a passing phase.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1875572521697564954.post-70412065236833734062014-06-30T20:25:00.001-07:002014-06-30T20:25:56.159-07:00RIP<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My Grandad passed away just over a week ago.<br />
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He was 90 years old and when I first heard a few weeks ago of his unwell state, I was certain there would be a medical breakthrough and immortality would be discovered through him. There was no man more stubborn. But Death won, as He usually does, and my Grandad passed away.<br />
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His illness and passing has revisited a number of complex emotions in me and thus, it has been a difficult week. Due to good 'ol family drama, I have gone through blinding anger, terrible remorse and unhealthy doses of anxiety since last Saturday. Mix that with the hectic last week of school for my kids, and you get the emotional, sleepless lump that sits at this keyboard. But more on that later.<br />
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Francis (Frank) Ambrose Christian was one of thirteen kids to my Great-Grandparents. Like many other men his age, he lied to enlist to fight for his country during WWII.<br />
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<a href="http://data.thememoryproject.com/image/7303_538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://data.thememoryproject.com/image/7303_538.jpg" height="243" width="400" /></a></div>
(If you find interest in War stories, there's a wonderful online project my Grandad was included in <a href="http://www.thememoryproject.com/stories/1868:francis-ambrose-christian/" target="_blank">here</a>.)<br />
Grandad worked for the post office, and in the RCMP. He married my Nanny, Pauline, in 1948 and their only child is my Dad. They were married 55 years when she died of cancer a decade ago.<br />
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My Grandad kept an extremely active social life right up until the end: volunteering at the veteran hospital, playing cards, and travelling the world with his second wife. He was also a member of several organizations, like the Knights of Columbus. Apparently they gave him a proper send-off at the funeral.<br />
Due to family drama, I could not attend the funeral, but chose a beautiful arrangement to be sent. Had the flower company not royally screwed up my order, my bouquet might be sitting on his grave now, but instead, they did and it is not. My cousin went to the service however, and informs me it was lovely. (I <3 you Scotty).<br />
My relationship with my Grandad was strained as I became an adult, and we always found each other awkward, I think. I certainly admired his no-bullshit attitude toward life, even if I was never quite good enough for him.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandad and I, 2010.</td></tr>
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Favorite memories of Grandad:<br />
- Images of him lounging in his mushy lazyboy that always looked as though it was swallowing him.<br />
- That he always took us around the corner for donairs at Toulany's when we visited, or brought it to us if he came out west. He reminded us every time that it was he who signed Bash's papers for him to stay in Canada, even though we'd heard it many times before.<br />
- He and Nan would always buy some Little Debbie desert for my brother and I when we visited. And because they wouldn't eat it after we left, they always made us eat like, 7 of them.<br />
- Every visit, right up until the last, included a tour of first: the tiny living room, which held a barrage of framed photos of all his various encounters with famous politicians or some such person, and then the rest of the house, even though I could walk it in my sleep to this day.<br />
- His smell. Even though we had our differences, thinking of his smell brings tears to my eyes.<br />
- The fact that his birthday often coincided with Thanksgiving, and if we were over in Halifax for it, we would have a turkey dinner and decorate his cake with "Happy Franksgiving."<br />
- The fact that children were so completely alien to him, he once gave my kids random slices of processed cheese as a snack one visit. Oh my God, that was hilarious. I think I have a picture of that, it was so ridiculous. Hang on. There it is:)<br />
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Hahahahaha!!! Oh, the confused look on their faces is priceless. I think it was the first time they'd had processed cheese.<br />
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Yeah, my Grandad was a hard man, but he was very proud of his accomplishments and the many influential people he met throughout his long life. I love you, Grandad, RIP.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14078723785823610281noreply@blogger.com0