tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59469542746194362252024-03-13T20:51:46.249-07:00Fearfully, wonderfully madePennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.comBlogger467125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-77842824346004689982012-10-01T11:42:00.000-07:002012-10-01T11:42:09.160-07:00Changing locationsIt's official. I'm moving. Good-bye, sweet, blogspot; hello, wordpress.<br />
<br />
So the new site is easy to remember, as it's the same name for this one, only with wordpress: <a href="http://thirstysouthernsoul.wordpress.com/">thirstysouthernsoul.wordpress.com</a>.<br />
<br />
See you over there!Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-66489477600661843702012-09-25T08:18:00.001-07:002012-09-25T08:18:25.933-07:00Fall races
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Woo hoo! I have officially signed up for my fall races
and am excited about getting back into the fall running schedule. </div>
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<br /></div>
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First up, the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure is this
weekend. It’s a 5k run, one that I’ve run multiple times. I’ll never forget my
first time running it with Rindy, though. It was our first race, and we were so
tired! About two miles in, we started shouting that we were running for
pancakes. And we did. IHOP was our next scheduled stop.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhIcUCYITtRgqxTHR2qe3tL88TPF3rajMBh9NshZ76Tqx7oAJbEXxFu5Zw1wiM5vFIi-MYl0dqMuN6Ajhl3vux_dUvkWv7sCf0GKWRv9wq_Eepa-XNJymSUQDzNwoEHDdU7uI-Ez7ZSlO/s1600/DSC00960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhIcUCYITtRgqxTHR2qe3tL88TPF3rajMBh9NshZ76Tqx7oAJbEXxFu5Zw1wiM5vFIi-MYl0dqMuN6Ajhl3vux_dUvkWv7sCf0GKWRv9wq_Eepa-XNJymSUQDzNwoEHDdU7uI-Ez7ZSlO/s320/DSC00960.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IHOP after our first race</td></tr>
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I actually found out about the Race for the Cure
yesterday and managed to sign up right before the deadline. Whew! Kari and I
are running it together, though I think she’s going to beat me, ha!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Next up, the following weekend, is the one mile fun walk
for diabetes research. Sadly, this one conflicts with the Bark in the Park 5k,
so Vicki and I will not be running that. I’m sure Vicki is very happy about
this. She’s not much of a fan of Bark in the Park like I am. </div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDmdusemZRyQrNEM7sdp2UU6Ag0GkVXuFhv3UR-J-MFSPKGkNPmgKRWkD4QqZuY4Ybt4qXQS5zAs1ZVQyfIqnm1hyphenhyphenBQ3Kju179TcULoFt6WEwSCwGbJAzs9hCp0xxvhEnWr4_22o3snW3/s1600/DSC00045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDmdusemZRyQrNEM7sdp2UU6Ag0GkVXuFhv3UR-J-MFSPKGkNPmgKRWkD4QqZuY4Ybt4qXQS5zAs1ZVQyfIqnm1hyphenhyphenBQ3Kju179TcULoFt6WEwSCwGbJAzs9hCp0xxvhEnWr4_22o3snW3/s320/DSC00045.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What do you mean, RACE???"</td></tr>
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(Note: Vicki never actually ran the 5k with me. We wanted
her to walk the one-mile fun walk, but that never worked out either. She just
sat, shivered, and waited to go home.)</div>
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The Autumn Breeze is scheduled for Oct. 20, and I’m
really excited that the race course appears to have changed for this race. I
love the hoodie that comes with registration, but the race has been torturous.
It’s just boring! It’s a there-and-back route for three miles! Who wants that?
This year, we noticed the start point is different, so I hope that means no
more there-and-back running. It’s okay for training, but when you are in an
official race, you don’t want to do that. </div>
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(I feel like the Rock & Roll New Orleans half
administrators could take note of this, as about four miles of this year’s race
was a there-and-back. So. Boring. AND congested. It was just a bad idea all
around.)</div>
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So the schedule has been set! Let the fall races
commence!</div>
Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-5836935991352234432012-09-18T12:17:00.001-07:002012-09-18T12:17:38.386-07:00Bathroom Renovations UpdateThe end is near. I see a light at the end of the tunnel. It's so close I can almost taste it.<br />
<br />
My bathroom has <i>walls</i>.<br />
<br />
You have no idea what a big deal this is for me right now. Thanks to Hurricane Isaac, my contractor got pulled down south for his day job, and our project was on hold for about a week and a half. However, now he tells me that I should have my paint colors finalized this week because he's painting Saturday! Hooray!<br />
<br />
So, in anticipation of my beautiful new bathroom, let's take a look at what once was.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLyeJ2sgrpYnWiK6j8FEuiymDFg3QdsrSnnZjJDViKjpaSEAYTBX21t38rtJHWjfJWlA9RGJPdP3MPYoAe0j0r6b6LbB_CwVzChRVGvuDf0MkCcXZWYWXUL2_D8umzh3Btay-JNBKksqx/s1600/DSC01976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLyeJ2sgrpYnWiK6j8FEuiymDFg3QdsrSnnZjJDViKjpaSEAYTBX21t38rtJHWjfJWlA9RGJPdP3MPYoAe0j0r6b6LbB_CwVzChRVGvuDf0MkCcXZWYWXUL2_D8umzh3Btay-JNBKksqx/s320/DSC01976.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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The entrance. Note the ivy green and light pink color combo. Gawg-eous. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RKzIArFojeolgZY6JfYGLMMs3RA265X2KMAHxwLaS1MP29UPRHsp2Dl7vtTRNGg35zek8cUusFDt1SwS3JpnythQENQ0cSymip1PuVUka4UdThaK-pIa7B3-KgeRjpkL48Wfap-FJ0T_/s1600/DSC01977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RKzIArFojeolgZY6JfYGLMMs3RA265X2KMAHxwLaS1MP29UPRHsp2Dl7vtTRNGg35zek8cUusFDt1SwS3JpnythQENQ0cSymip1PuVUka4UdThaK-pIa7B3-KgeRjpkL48Wfap-FJ0T_/s320/DSC01977.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ah, the sink. The prize of the bathroom. Please, admire the flowers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLozhw-HIm69U3WgvIraT6Z2CFBBvSp55Zk5sah_hNXKGk4cTUgFoePb0g27eHVlD4ZtetjTbuVQM4PQ3aVmPNnEFRRm0JaWGjhoAIuSq3_sY7g0yfY5VM-_lvuwvSHpAOBsXQZv3tA7D/s1600/DSC01978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLozhw-HIm69U3WgvIraT6Z2CFBBvSp55Zk5sah_hNXKGk4cTUgFoePb0g27eHVlD4ZtetjTbuVQM4PQ3aVmPNnEFRRm0JaWGjhoAIuSq3_sY7g0yfY5VM-_lvuwvSHpAOBsXQZv3tA7D/s320/DSC01978.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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A close-up shot, just in case you weren't positive that these were actual flowers painted in the sink. YEP. Let's remember, too, the house was built in 1969. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eXPhJ4wDxufO1NHHG6X9wy_N2TnzqC0PflPog11TA3nt8-fbcd2JNgJj1QzJ05XPBpxzUyJFYpjk7foNGqRPthnc-2uiUmU8rLabrO9vnmpoU65-ZB3Kp9_7FaG8CgalC0bRScomTdX3/s1600/DSC01979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eXPhJ4wDxufO1NHHG6X9wy_N2TnzqC0PflPog11TA3nt8-fbcd2JNgJj1QzJ05XPBpxzUyJFYpjk7foNGqRPthnc-2uiUmU8rLabrO9vnmpoU65-ZB3Kp9_7FaG8CgalC0bRScomTdX3/s320/DSC01979.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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And what house built before 1990 would be complete without a soap holder and toothbrush holder that does not hold any toothbrush (minus a travel-sized one) made today? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMfh8QzKnXuVBKeubbLZddnZ8PiJWxDKq9M-RRvoZCmYCblTMRXq3pYDHs1TYHziCCsKCv1NRXbAizELMR0w4gZbW0g3C9gEqEgRVdpcfJ0BB4oVlpOBsPBzXNSi9fJmA7L9DCDk-J2hfL/s1600/DSC01981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMfh8QzKnXuVBKeubbLZddnZ8PiJWxDKq9M-RRvoZCmYCblTMRXq3pYDHs1TYHziCCsKCv1NRXbAizELMR0w4gZbW0g3C9gEqEgRVdpcfJ0BB4oVlpOBsPBzXNSi9fJmA7L9DCDk-J2hfL/s320/DSC01981.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I actually like the toilet. It's been replaced in the last 5 years, so we're keeping it. And the trash can. Maybe. It actually may not "go" with the new bathroom decor. <br />
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We're also keeping the blinds. However, that weirdly-positioned towel rack is G-O-N-E.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEI0lZuHj1metEk8uJToSwDpBxtc_ZBH35UdlTiSWDRHB5ujncjwFkB8F9KQItlSPn5MlomuFuzRvQp_nRCKjibL-797_hdJcSaLlXut7I_yQ1eky-zzKexbsK3f3uGwK7qqBGqRzHReNl/s1600/DSC01984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEI0lZuHj1metEk8uJToSwDpBxtc_ZBH35UdlTiSWDRHB5ujncjwFkB8F9KQItlSPn5MlomuFuzRvQp_nRCKjibL-797_hdJcSaLlXut7I_yQ1eky-zzKexbsK3f3uGwK7qqBGqRzHReNl/s320/DSC01984.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Floor is staying, too. Mainly because this project is already bleeding us dry, and I can live with the floor.<br />
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Oh, and the tub. My PINK tub. PINK. Here's the crazy thing, guys. When the walls came down, our contractor discovered a Coke can that expired this year in the wall. Therefore, we estimated that this bathroom has been renovated in the last ten years.<br />
<br />
IN THE LAST TEN YEARS, SOMEONE THOUGHT THAT PINK TILE ROCKED.<br />
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I wish they had called me first...<br />
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And here's what my bathroom looks like now. I'm ridiculously excited to have sheet rock up. When our contractor put it up, I might have danced a jig.<br />
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Oh, yes, and I have a bath tub in the middle of my living room. Seriously. I kind of wish it were out of the box, because, frankly, I'd be lying in it with a bunch of pillows and blankets.<br />
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Okay, so out with the old and in with the new! My sink came in last week, and I, ahem, finally opened it today because I was trying to match it with the tile for the vanity. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoifOnlcTohAbMkoeRsPBWXTnI3cdMlJWHb7KvLD_1mIp8JA76ACLBLQJg7oh6XYcYvy_ERkl0SmBnJN28WH_rJeD0ibOHKkgkkp7i7oD-ovhHIOsOhS8bNsy_HWQ5GJlXJi4WOFeuaOPH/s1600/DSC01986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoifOnlcTohAbMkoeRsPBWXTnI3cdMlJWHb7KvLD_1mIp8JA76ACLBLQJg7oh6XYcYvy_ERkl0SmBnJN28WH_rJeD0ibOHKkgkkp7i7oD-ovhHIOsOhS8bNsy_HWQ5GJlXJi4WOFeuaOPH/s320/DSC01986.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Look at that beautiful bowl! Sniff. I love it so much. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIr_l-RhfBqRvM5x8GXukOAJDvhq_ueRn_WzVNlyYMd1FT55WIBwZ7ST4kYOPpRyIGTAD1x7A82Bf7SJcj4iOBX4hTsUcNzuAJCJweqDz1JeMO-HI6jM96D538ZsGBLq0hK_rD5EKBsw9/s1600/DSC01987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIr_l-RhfBqRvM5x8GXukOAJDvhq_ueRn_WzVNlyYMd1FT55WIBwZ7ST4kYOPpRyIGTAD1x7A82Bf7SJcj4iOBX4hTsUcNzuAJCJweqDz1JeMO-HI6jM96D538ZsGBLq0hK_rD5EKBsw9/s320/DSC01987.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Thoughts on the tile? The bathroom colors are basically light brown and dark brown with a white border separating the two. I thought a whitish-brown tile would go well with the color scheme, but I'd love some input, especially since it's going in this week!Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-26427235926445542862012-09-17T13:59:00.001-07:002012-09-17T13:59:14.272-07:00Fresh Meat
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Despite teaching an overload this quarter, I’m actually
enjoying it. I like my students. We’re a small department, so we’re close with
all of our students. It’s one of the things we pride ourselves on. If I hear of
a sports internship, I know immediately who to call to tell about it. If it’s a
job opening in a town 30 minutes away, I know all our graduating seniors to
tell. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the beginning of a new quarter, with a new class,
however, there are always a few names that I have trouble matching with their
faces – ESPECIALLY if the student in question doesn’t speak or ask questions or
really stand out in class. Now, if the student does something completely wrong,
like sleeping in class (which happened today), I quickly learn his/her name
because I’m yelling it (which also happened today). </div>
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In my 101 class, I have 13 new, unfamiliar faces among the
few I do know. I learned the majority of the students the first day when we did
an icebreaker, but as it was the first day, about 1/3 of the class didn’t show
up. And that’s just bad on them. Because on the first day, I learned some very
interesting things about my students. One used to be a dog trainer. One did a
story about a tattoo parlor and ended up getting a tattoo (which her parents
don’t know about, ha!). One is from Seattle. Two played sports in college.</div>
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This is why I love where I teach: I get to actually know the
individuals I teach. It’s not a super big campus, and I don’t have enormous
classes where everyone is an ID number instead of a name. I see these kids grow
throughout college. In fact, (TEAR!) my first freshmen class I taught when I
came on board just graduated this past year. It was a bit bittersweet. I miss
those kiddos. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there are always new ones to teach, new ones who will
come into my office, new ones to read in our school newspaper. As long as I
learn their names first. =)</div>
Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-42458794499243748282012-09-06T08:32:00.001-07:002012-09-06T08:32:12.896-07:00Seven years and counting…“You know there’s not an elevator to take you to the top,
right?”<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I rolled my eyes at my husband as we walked to Hot
Springs’ mountain top tower to overlook the city. “You’re making that up. You
better watch it, because I’ll make you walk up those stairs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No, seriously, there’s no elevator,” Kyle said without
cracking a smile. “You climb the stairs up and then there’s a lift that brings
you down.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And then he grinned at me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We had come to Hot Springs the night before, arriving
hungry and ready to chow down on some Italian food from our favorite place, J
& S Italian Villa. This is what we found.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSfOXU-Em9sg5HN6xNVeZyyek6GRFmzaR2kq_lZiZFFiLJBEV00VkjsdpniKys2vdvCkG_G6512CdNMEZdW7yZe2_rJlA6W0qJeMT3plYwG659-yFpcWs1AtKH7MfpdzpHzehV_bvAF9m/s1600/J%2526S+burned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSfOXU-Em9sg5HN6xNVeZyyek6GRFmzaR2kq_lZiZFFiLJBEV00VkjsdpniKys2vdvCkG_G6512CdNMEZdW7yZe2_rJlA6W0qJeMT3plYwG659-yFpcWs1AtKH7MfpdzpHzehV_bvAF9m/s320/J%2526S+burned.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No J&S for us that night!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Burned. Burned to the ground.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Thankfully, my aunt randomly texted me a happy
anniversary message and informed me about her favorite Hot Springs restaurant –
Belle Arti downtown.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was amazing. I might have eaten leftover lasagna for
breakfast the next morning. Okay, I did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZD6Jua2XLStEYBLYfIa7OvRRRtP1qwqxTw2x0lhqEtKAdKf6_hv-kSCs8PTGgnRlWQnJoKT18ms8s6a92PIVOFwZBEAODzDcN243YFjVCj3qH6SuVTVo6LX84c80ndLn9TJvICtEPqGn/s1600/caprese+salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZD6Jua2XLStEYBLYfIa7OvRRRtP1qwqxTw2x0lhqEtKAdKf6_hv-kSCs8PTGgnRlWQnJoKT18ms8s6a92PIVOFwZBEAODzDcN243YFjVCj3qH6SuVTVo6LX84c80ndLn9TJvICtEPqGn/s320/caprese+salad.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Caprese salad, our favorite appetizer!</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEgO_mVmI-XOqiRJXYL352I9PqOFGw5glzHONJJFSs_0oOXPilTCEqJcxOWkIah0jlTbRvYJMRGnyv5rSYEd4WW0cXydDMuGUT7LKixG9bkOdcuxbf3v-EHIYivPTs7kinxYDuPY5ihgJUvg/s1600/Lasagna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_mVmI-XOqiRJXYL352I9PqOFGw5glzHONJJFSs_0oOXPilTCEqJcxOWkIah0jlTbRvYJMRGnyv5rSYEd4WW0cXydDMuGUT7LKixG9bkOdcuxbf3v-EHIYivPTs7kinxYDuPY5ihgJUvg/s320/Lasagna.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My lasagna</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEj5nI02KlFj-vrM-bzMoJtPBfQj5qDHgXKQjaRhyO5X48lFu7FZc4NV9sHr60ZNZ6yd8P44j9x-HJiGvLlRkjf-3t1kJ3PB7OzVR75cbTscdTM0edgP56dQJvErenXZyVKOZ-aR1Dh7NcTH/s1600/Kyle%2527s+steak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nI02KlFj-vrM-bzMoJtPBfQj5qDHgXKQjaRhyO5X48lFu7FZc4NV9sHr60ZNZ6yd8P44j9x-HJiGvLlRkjf-3t1kJ3PB7OzVR75cbTscdTM0edgP56dQJvErenXZyVKOZ-aR1Dh7NcTH/s320/Kyle%2527s+steak.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle's steak</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The actual day of our anniversary, we decided to do the
touristy things, eat breakfast downtown (YUMMY banana pancakes), shop downtown,
grab some fudge…and visit the top of the mountain.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As we walked in the doors to the mountain tower, the two
guys working the counter looked at us and immediately said, “The elevator’s
out. It’s 21 flights of stairs to the top. But there’s a discount.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I looked at Kyle and burst out laughing. “Serves you
right!” I said. “And we ARE walking up!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We bought a sports drink and started the 21-flight hike,
along with other sad souls. We took SEVERAL breaks as well, but, after going up
for what seemed like forever, we finally reached the top.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Q6zA0_qDaIohEz1MrOugsNyX7t2x3JJlUraNwfa3SUgL-GKdf1b7qSIHrFsH2_tR4XqBQgNc1KakpOFLpD3Fs83FrwDfgfo9tbAPHQl64jrY535TAEQUsott4wAnaJ3oWNEWxE3ZrMV9/s1600/After+climbing+stairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Q6zA0_qDaIohEz1MrOugsNyX7t2x3JJlUraNwfa3SUgL-GKdf1b7qSIHrFsH2_tR4XqBQgNc1KakpOFLpD3Fs83FrwDfgfo9tbAPHQl64jrY535TAEQUsott4wAnaJ3oWNEWxE3ZrMV9/s320/After+climbing+stairs.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the long hike</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEjpMFm6vAxHDwzX4N-mOrAwKcrT8VyOMUivpsSkosvp7toDTXlSLFd0To-sYl9_MkRrqa3Kng2M7mpjKepX2EXh0Yo613hN7nwKR-5BwqRIZATN6uBoY5DJcpgGeRKEd0gj8MNF_ApWDR86/s1600/Hot+Springs+outlook+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMFm6vAxHDwzX4N-mOrAwKcrT8VyOMUivpsSkosvp7toDTXlSLFd0To-sYl9_MkRrqa3Kng2M7mpjKepX2EXh0Yo613hN7nwKR-5BwqRIZATN6uBoY5DJcpgGeRKEd0gj8MNF_ApWDR86/s320/Hot+Springs+outlook+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hot Springs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQxDZu2y6cFgQrw8POgdAQWknYl9PPCh_GCtIi7vAWrQDTOJGu5OfhkU16PJex73Ccz4pv-mZ3FhpEWBqpKzJj3pR80hWRwfYJZmJO1AkoWOvFlK0y6re9G3LLS29iHiwyo-nnyYVZjEc/s1600/Hot+Springs+outlook+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQxDZu2y6cFgQrw8POgdAQWknYl9PPCh_GCtIi7vAWrQDTOJGu5OfhkU16PJex73Ccz4pv-mZ3FhpEWBqpKzJj3pR80hWRwfYJZmJO1AkoWOvFlK0y6re9G3LLS29iHiwyo-nnyYVZjEc/s320/Hot+Springs+outlook+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Happy anniversary to my best friend! Can’t wait to see
what our seventh year of marriage brings! =) <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvdJCWNLn1LgatmUgi1hS6mZiK4-Chfehyphenhyphentr-t2Kmt5yzv_0TvEORgi7OXREqGdTLIKOPMvsWd-9JHliIR_fyvmC_revRVC-Lq8zGnbo8kExa3twfMAs9HW6XisT-RciElanYXzxHcfUH/s1600/Near+top+of+mt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvdJCWNLn1LgatmUgi1hS6mZiK4-Chfehyphenhyphentr-t2Kmt5yzv_0TvEORgi7OXREqGdTLIKOPMvsWd-9JHliIR_fyvmC_revRVC-Lq8zGnbo8kExa3twfMAs9HW6XisT-RciElanYXzxHcfUH/s320/Near+top+of+mt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->
Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-55093881790355912112012-08-28T06:44:00.004-07:002012-08-28T06:44:27.946-07:00Well, isn’t this yummy<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">WARNING: Do not
consume unless you plan on drinking six glasses of water with one cup of soup. ;)</i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Kyle and I are a bit masochistic, sometimes
unintentionally. We moved to New Orleans a month before Katrina. We both are
working on our Ph.D. degrees (Have I mentioned that? Yep, hubby’s just started his
classes!). And we both really, REALLY love spicy foods. How spicy? So spicy
that tears spring up in your eyes and your nose starts running. THAT spicy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What can I say? We’re south Louisianans born in north
Louisiana.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So I found this recipe online for a crawfish and corn soup
that I adapted to fit our spice needs. The great thing about this recipe (other
than it’s mouth-watering taste) is that you can make it as spicy as you want –
just depends on what you like! Seriously, you've got to try it. It was immediately designated a staple in our household after one spicy bite.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
First off, the grocery list:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
2 TBS butter<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
1 bell pepper<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
¼ cup of frozen seasoning mix (because the bell pepper
just isn’t enough)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
1 can rotel (I used the hot rotel, of course)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Tony’s (naturally)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Old Bay seasoning (again, naturally)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Dash of pepper<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
2 cans corn<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
1 can creamed corn<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
1 pound crawfish<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
1 can evaporated milk<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Now…time for magic!<br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Start by sautéing the bell pepper in the butter.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1R0edjEWN7R54B1cJ2PJg5TeqKyDpqA623axyhHrAlSQ5CIPzcqgGHvogwdxjD0buwMV_WwqwxuyxLXo3c5hM5VxS1kNnJ0BOMsAkmtLyr62FtUCp2SArAQSsk_oDoDIahDWJzSP4Qj5/s1600/photo-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1R0edjEWN7R54B1cJ2PJg5TeqKyDpqA623axyhHrAlSQ5CIPzcqgGHvogwdxjD0buwMV_WwqwxuyxLXo3c5hM5VxS1kNnJ0BOMsAkmtLyr62FtUCp2SArAQSsk_oDoDIahDWJzSP4Qj5/s320/photo-52.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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While I was sautéing, I decided that one bell pepper wasn’t
enough, so I pulled out our frozen seasoning mix and tossed somewhere between ¼
of a cup to ½ of a cup in. I added Tony’s and Old Bay and let the ingredients
sizzle and tossed in the rotel.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdCUeS8tfav55UPSYMuYHwS3oXFCWh2RdKmwIHyMDuxsoWW_4SHnBl8WU4_IYHWLnKFM1H5gIaqIOIN8mYZ0XTK6BT20iGIcZcg8uivB7gH2VAgOrQOHmIsfPktrUxnYOsPxnzrDhDXkR/s1600/photo-53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdCUeS8tfav55UPSYMuYHwS3oXFCWh2RdKmwIHyMDuxsoWW_4SHnBl8WU4_IYHWLnKFM1H5gIaqIOIN8mYZ0XTK6BT20iGIcZcg8uivB7gH2VAgOrQOHmIsfPktrUxnYOsPxnzrDhDXkR/s320/photo-53.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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By this point, the kitchen smelled magnificent. My
stomach began to growl, and Kyle called from upstairs, “Is it ready yet?” Oh,
no. Sadly, no. This is a quick soup to make, but, unfortunately, it’s not ready
in 10 minutes. Takes more like 20.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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After about five minutes after adding the rotel, I tossed
in the corn, crawfish, and evaporated milk. And some more Tony’s and Old Bay. Right here, let me go ahead and add that if you're going to buy crawfish, PLEASE buy Louisiana crawfish, not China crawfish. Yes, it is more expensive, but it's fresher and supports our state economy. Help out a Cajun, y'all.<br />
<br />
After adding the remaining ingredients, I
let the soup come to a boil and kept it there for about 10 minutes. Then,
frankly, I couldn’t wait any longer. It was time for dinner.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gmtwC5OIw2ETKvYTMWDFFa5TduW6zwiDLS0pd_gFFCplzXwOng7A03ZDQOAG_n0rodfLMjIgeergSjWgaZN0GpjhLVl9ClFM6qTT13LtcBn_2wR98mYV3XKV5pDABG4BPmhhOKZZoCsw/s1600/photo-54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gmtwC5OIw2ETKvYTMWDFFa5TduW6zwiDLS0pd_gFFCplzXwOng7A03ZDQOAG_n0rodfLMjIgeergSjWgaZN0GpjhLVl9ClFM6qTT13LtcBn_2wR98mYV3XKV5pDABG4BPmhhOKZZoCsw/s320/photo-54.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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So for those of you hunkered down for Isaac (or for those
of you in north La or higher who are anticipating rains and cooler weather),
this is a great warm-up soup. Again, prepare for the heat. It’s coming.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->
Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-76357165889636627022012-08-21T06:37:00.000-07:002012-09-25T06:11:21.356-07:00ChaosIf I were a smoker, I’d need a smoke right about now. As it is, I’m a nerd with asthma, so there’s no way I’ll
be around cigarette smoke.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What’s causing this craziness, you ask? Bathroom
renovations.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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*breathes heavily into a paper bag*<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I cannot WAIT until the bathroom is done, for more than
one reason. First, it’s going to be GAW-GEOUS. Seriously, this is my dream
guest bathroom. Unfortunately for guests who will use it in the future, it will
also eventually wind up as the kid bathroom. Secondly, I don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> chaos in my house. I’m not
necessarily the cleanest or tidiest person, but, as I told a friend yesterday,
if you spend the night at my house, you don’t have to wonder if you should wear
shower shoes in the tub. It’s clean. Promise.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Gulp. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Was </i>clean.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The demolition started yesterday, and, because I’m crazy,
I have to avoid the bathroom area. I try to ignore it, which, frankly, is a
little difficult, as there is visqueen along my carpet going down the stairs. The
poor pooch hates the tarp. She’s very finicky about different textures, and,
while she hates my super soft Bath and Body Works robe, she also hates the
texture of the visqueen. I’ve finally convinced her to walk down the stairs on her
on, but there were a few hours last night when she refused to walk on it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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See? Dog’s crazy, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The awful pink tile is almost gone. It’s completely gone
from surrounding the bathtub, which means there’s a whhhooolllleee lot of
broken tile on my bathroom floor. But, no, wait. We’re not going to focus on
that here. =) This is a happy blog, so I’m going to focus on what the bathroom
is going to look like in a few weeks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The light fixture:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPL8TdhUowPXs6r7iDIwvt9cVt07bhrS8u1gJ_Vir63LS2-DSTUqDGU3j7h18EhANwLhrfSZ_K2FZCMewvSZNgM19mMGtfkCFRd-NIh-PfSujH0AP31eBastY5JunSbu9uRyY28VArMFy7/s1600/light+fixture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPL8TdhUowPXs6r7iDIwvt9cVt07bhrS8u1gJ_Vir63LS2-DSTUqDGU3j7h18EhANwLhrfSZ_K2FZCMewvSZNgM19mMGtfkCFRd-NIh-PfSujH0AP31eBastY5JunSbu9uRyY28VArMFy7/s1600/light+fixture.jpg" /></a></div>
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I’m trying to go for a romantic mood here, and I like copper,
so that’s why I went with that choice. I also like neutral colors, so it’s all
a win. However, let me be the first to say that picking out a shower faucet to
match my sink (just wait) was ridiculously time-consuming.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yYHeeKC1cWeTfSHTobPh0vUR2s25BkMHM3St5JcRzL5dOln_glM1DeRbUBX5odcIr2sKMauVfKugd7wHCBus-wl7hqznKbPC8TpoAQNvFzj6L9JPGg9TTo7crV-O1uAQdnrrR2SY22EH/s1600/shower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yYHeeKC1cWeTfSHTobPh0vUR2s25BkMHM3St5JcRzL5dOln_glM1DeRbUBX5odcIr2sKMauVfKugd7wHCBus-wl7hqznKbPC8TpoAQNvFzj6L9JPGg9TTo7crV-O1uAQdnrrR2SY22EH/s1600/shower.jpg" /></a></div>
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And now, ladies and gentlemen, my favorite part of the
new bathroom – the sink. I splurged a bit because, hey, it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> a remodel, and if I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it right.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhus2u4zd4GvTVyvY_k8Yxu4n4Ph_Ic32V7iS86UoFepXOOK83FVX3yjHBPHMOh4pfcKAknKjhf1eavdW7iGmti-agmAeoZ-FfDqeoSnoH5xDsmJVh6Qu0qivQgw8s-8cp7dFTx82snzgaa/s1600/sink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhus2u4zd4GvTVyvY_k8Yxu4n4Ph_Ic32V7iS86UoFepXOOK83FVX3yjHBPHMOh4pfcKAknKjhf1eavdW7iGmti-agmAeoZ-FfDqeoSnoH5xDsmJVh6Qu0qivQgw8s-8cp7dFTx82snzgaa/s1600/sink.jpg" /></a></div>
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Ahhh…I love this sink. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This is why I’m going to be okay with the current chaos
of my guest bathroom: for the sink, ha! Kyle’s already said that he might want
to switch bathrooms (we both share the master bath currently) because he knows
this one is going to be fantastic. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The process is started, and it will be complete. I just
have to be a little patient. Just a little.<br />
<br />
<br />
<o:p><i>**All photos from Lowes.com.</i> </o:p></div>
Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-22843927253744964222012-08-20T06:34:00.003-07:002012-08-20T06:34:28.168-07:00Homecoming
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I don’t care what you’re political ideologies are. You
will get chill bumps watching troops who have been overseas more than a year come
home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We had a double doozy – our friend Chris was coming home,
as was Kyle’s cousin and his new wife, who married right before shipping off,
so we hadn’t even met her before Saturday morning. We arrived at the airport
around 9:15 a.m. and joined the crowd of more than 200 individuals who had come to
welcome these brave men and women home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWPWl7ViY39Bat23pEmx7iyNARXgAYnhZz8gRTiTyTxD62rD3lKbRZ8RZp1vekHEZkCEfvaXTz9HSFBHOLBU5RrBVOzPlyQ-lfo6W8ZSGaRWZhiGRw7BRfbX-Gru_MhDGJr4BpKWAhVw/s1600/signs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWPWl7ViY39Bat23pEmx7iyNARXgAYnhZz8gRTiTyTxD62rD3lKbRZ8RZp1vekHEZkCEfvaXTz9HSFBHOLBU5RrBVOzPlyQ-lfo6W8ZSGaRWZhiGRw7BRfbX-Gru_MhDGJr4BpKWAhVw/s320/signs.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signs thanking the troops<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEg-WmeQwJeIrGiiH3RNZEoyrXPIW169v2tLy81sG9oQymrLPCSkw4ojWlo_b1EqEgU3zESo4CYy_cWS6UmUwjZK9hK0mxHfrERD6VjBzt4CYvwDm9ydIHOqoKjAVXyAxl6xl3vz0jzOBnE/s1600/angie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WmeQwJeIrGiiH3RNZEoyrXPIW169v2tLy81sG9oQymrLPCSkw4ojWlo_b1EqEgU3zESo4CYy_cWS6UmUwjZK9hK0mxHfrERD6VjBzt4CYvwDm9ydIHOqoKjAVXyAxl6xl3vz0jzOBnE/s320/angie.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angie is to the left, looking (somewhat) at the camera. She was ecstatic! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEjkYtsdH_QT2LFPUhfZa7JAsMVnKlzkFMM4X5J9Nl6ErSLG_i1dLIDRUWOmEOD5vzncLe4a2H-PG9MOK-jdt7mPdx-u5QbRHstEjcm2iedy7FBLCs3RrPQC5mg1SPn2RyDAfIYCme0NjNw/s1600/hogans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYtsdH_QT2LFPUhfZa7JAsMVnKlzkFMM4X5J9Nl6ErSLG_i1dLIDRUWOmEOD5vzncLe4a2H-PG9MOK-jdt7mPdx-u5QbRHstEjcm2iedy7FBLCs3RrPQC5mg1SPn2RyDAfIYCme0NjNw/s320/hogans.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young and old came to greet Chris. =)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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The plane touched down, and as soon as the doors opened,
the crowd released a deafening cheer. We knew which one Chris would be, and we
quickly picked out Kyle’s cousin and his wife as they stepped off the plane
with more than 100 other soldiers. Men and women who protected our freedom, who
fought overseas, living away from loved ones and family. And, for Chris, being
away from his beautiful wife and adorable daughter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-DMZ-c9nteTKDPIjOwk-NUc7_MqerxdITX5mdxMYGhGbBbdJIve5OZxzIZh_sFhpCw8FAGdEtm-kXRfxaqJfZHvfzpEulXbcSc4Y4-rJAuu_iQovaoHL053P13c2ROkYP_0O_yQNgInY/s1600/plane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-DMZ-c9nteTKDPIjOwk-NUc7_MqerxdITX5mdxMYGhGbBbdJIve5OZxzIZh_sFhpCw8FAGdEtm-kXRfxaqJfZHvfzpEulXbcSc4Y4-rJAuu_iQovaoHL053P13c2ROkYP_0O_yQNgInY/s320/plane.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrct9Zxq1fxtnRJ6O8_BaZ7rClpNeZB9HJqeAgdBURupiNSmT-Li7mpp8eiWMMuFndpSBs3YlQe2Pf57AwPeYxFVnlXHH2WNhKK1QiNEt7V5nnrZRmFpg4oA6iHxfvheyo8Hp5KNN7_Ao/s1600/troops+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrct9Zxq1fxtnRJ6O8_BaZ7rClpNeZB9HJqeAgdBURupiNSmT-Li7mpp8eiWMMuFndpSBs3YlQe2Pf57AwPeYxFVnlXHH2WNhKK1QiNEt7V5nnrZRmFpg4oA6iHxfvheyo8Hp5KNN7_Ao/s320/troops+2.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris is coming off the plane!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9MxTMssfRreF5PERKh-mZx2s-TOFPO7Fb9jSLqSp6ENhmTQHjERy2LpYUaIXvmFFxZItfihOX6jMYFDUW4pGi_Jg5toKtevw6PNNBZZFUcHc1Hgvmr1PtoDbgsvonHctJZOlVUKgJSU/s1600/troops+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9MxTMssfRreF5PERKh-mZx2s-TOFPO7Fb9jSLqSp6ENhmTQHjERy2LpYUaIXvmFFxZItfihOX6jMYFDUW4pGi_Jg5toKtevw6PNNBZZFUcHc1Hgvmr1PtoDbgsvonHctJZOlVUKgJSU/s320/troops+3.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7myb1a540t1jYIXdL-dLBNIECpkyGd2nx-Pb9rHQLEuSOwsQnDPOI0_4W9tu4HwG7crfuXF34Yfhl26pOP-Is7otN5yRSEm3MhA-H14lxNcUIBV_7TaSB97R9x8Ni_KNxcukK9ZcGUw/s1600/troops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7myb1a540t1jYIXdL-dLBNIECpkyGd2nx-Pb9rHQLEuSOwsQnDPOI0_4W9tu4HwG7crfuXF34Yfhl26pOP-Is7otN5yRSEm3MhA-H14lxNcUIBV_7TaSB97R9x8Ni_KNxcukK9ZcGUw/s320/troops.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Px5b2VYs5FQn4vSZ3CcZesJ3q6cSUI_07HpCAFlaqchQpipyjPgRj113hz7TccrTeD06NPi-S1MLhmiUuXH7CseHKveDUMkhyphenhyphen2_w_9qzO1xrYDlsckMdPwldB6gxuHl74s0kxlNyFNQ/s1600/angie+and+chris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Px5b2VYs5FQn4vSZ3CcZesJ3q6cSUI_07HpCAFlaqchQpipyjPgRj113hz7TccrTeD06NPi-S1MLhmiUuXH7CseHKveDUMkhyphenhyphen2_w_9qzO1xrYDlsckMdPwldB6gxuHl74s0kxlNyFNQ/s320/angie+and+chris.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can barely make out Angie, holding her daughter, who rushes out to greet her husband.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But this, even though it’s not the best quality photo, is
my favorite.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfky-NjEQUq0mNXPEkAV8NqccC-c_Q6aXJy6T_kuo6Fq_OjuxiBVJnuRlVbeBp6vwYojWYN_XpffAhROjSGYDJ6nRfC2gUXgkdJBvhlw48-yYimHoPiYFt-baLwJleIlvxrpkA4DnjNA/s1600/chris+and+sk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfky-NjEQUq0mNXPEkAV8NqccC-c_Q6aXJy6T_kuo6Fq_OjuxiBVJnuRlVbeBp6vwYojWYN_XpffAhROjSGYDJ6nRfC2gUXgkdJBvhlw48-yYimHoPiYFt-baLwJleIlvxrpkA4DnjNA/s320/chris+and+sk.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy and his girl</td></tr>
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God bless our country and the men and women who serve.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-65081159915759428202012-08-13T07:13:00.000-07:002012-08-13T07:13:40.318-07:00Oooh, sometimessss…I get a good feelin’<br />
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It’s strange when the students are away. On one hand, I’m
psyched because it’s quiet in the office, and it’s nice to be very relaxed
during the day. On the other hand…I miss them!!! Sad, isn’t it?</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I miss them running in my office with the latest
university news…miss how they always keep me full of funny student quotes…miss
how they make the day go by faster. I really like my job. I love teaching
college students. <o:p></o:p></div>
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However, in the fall, I may not like them quite as much,
seeing as I’m teaching an overload of courses – one being a class I’ve never
taught before! But the more I think about it, the more I’m okay with it. The
department chair is really helping me out with the lecture notes, and a lot of
what I’m teaching in one class is what I’m teaching in the other. And neither class is so large that I feel like I will be too overwhelmed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Though with teaching both classes in one day and
finishing up my doctorate, I may quickly feel overwhelmed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But there are so many great things going on this fall,
including my students. A lot of them I taught in the spring, and I just
absolutely love this class. They’re so bright and inquisitive (sometimes too
much so, ha!), and I hope our freshmen class steps up to the plate. But other things
this fall that will be awesome…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>COOLER WEATHER. Oh my gosh, I am so sick of this
summer heat. August hasn’t been nearly as bad as I anticipated with
triple-digit degree heat waves in July, but I’ll be so glad when I can run
outside and feel the chill in the air.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span>Football. Can’t wait to see my alma mater play
(against my other alma mater, too, lol, but that’ll be next year) and my Saints
play. <o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span>Food. Fall brings awesome food – chili, gumbo,
jambalaya, hot chocolate, hot apple cider…yum!!! I must admit, though, I am
making gumbo this week. What can I say? 94 degrees coming sounds like a cold
front!<o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span>Being done with this silly dissertation!!! We’re
looking for an October finish, woo hoo!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span>Décor! Sadly, I usually sweat like crazy when I
put up my fall decorations (you know, right on Sept. 1), but maybe I’ll just
turn the AC down and make it feel like fall. <o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span>Races!!! Ones on the radar that we’re looking
into…The ACS Relay for Life is usually a yearly event, as is Bark in the Park
(though Vicki does not run), the Autumn Breeze (where you get a really awesome
hoodie), and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">maybe</i> the Warrior Dash.
We gotta check dates on that one for conflicts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span>A new bathroom! Renovations start NEXT WEEK.
I’ll have to take some before pictures, because that bathroom is going to be
awesome. My husband already has plans to use that as his own bathroom, ha!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Did I miss anything? I’m sure I did, but you tell me what
it is! :-)<o:p></o:p></div>
Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-54846867937230877792012-08-06T07:21:00.000-07:002012-08-06T11:51:04.523-07:00Beachy Beach No. 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have an obsession with the beach. Just fyi, my retirement plans include living on the beach and catching fish to eat. And making Kyle clean them. Because I don't do that. Ewww!!</div>
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We went to the beach again this past week with our Sunday School class, and, as Kyle likes to brag, he managed to stay off of the beach two years in a row. Myself? I hit up the beach, the outdoor pool, the indoor pool, the hot tub, and the sauna. Basically, I stayed in my swim suit the whole time.</div>
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First, though, we had a semi-adventure getting to the beach -- we took a ferry!! I had never ridden on a ferry before, and we got VERY lucky, as we were the last car on the ferry. If we hadn't gotten on that ferry, we would have had to wait for 45 minutes for the next one.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPwr0Q9HODRQNneU4JIYVeiQu3SnYhwEQUXTEHxvr1Ef_hyHsST12qvaYa0lBHL0qmM78ba9Ceoc2psiXjOtnBMZysAs_yQH1qARHKb1_jMIzGjeu5bWbw3LWIWfNXdZLr1UljEalxuA/s1600/ferry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPwr0Q9HODRQNneU4JIYVeiQu3SnYhwEQUXTEHxvr1Ef_hyHsST12qvaYa0lBHL0qmM78ba9Ceoc2psiXjOtnBMZysAs_yQH1qARHKb1_jMIzGjeu5bWbw3LWIWfNXdZLr1UljEalxuA/s320/ferry.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the back of the boat, cheering our good luck.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0w58ZWuznS9HjKkwzYWNgcvnTMU94A6tFMcRjkwckiNtD8tqQdyRWqPkkzJMI4zLmwwsyfoYYjzMGbWVZh4rmKTSZyku7L4l3rA6MmTwekg54ubGpYbZRNbkQoo4yWxnxxaLE2p7iw-w/s1600/ferry+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0w58ZWuznS9HjKkwzYWNgcvnTMU94A6tFMcRjkwckiNtD8tqQdyRWqPkkzJMI4zLmwwsyfoYYjzMGbWVZh4rmKTSZyku7L4l3rA6MmTwekg54ubGpYbZRNbkQoo4yWxnxxaLE2p7iw-w/s320/ferry+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark storm clouds. Luckily, it only rained on the ferry. =)</td></tr>
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And we arrived at our condo, which was amazing! It had a balcony overlooking the city...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7GsB_s9zNWN67vOsdMR2VmrKmUMNBRseC7i6K1p34ILEMaggDCHVy3IkcY5BVacjpW6Cm7k7hv6F_S1QtrX71fPJ36rl5wPNB1bUTNs0SQcuBkw6s9LfhPUAYH8OeldLxUTdWFc2gi4/s1600/city+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7GsB_s9zNWN67vOsdMR2VmrKmUMNBRseC7i6K1p34ILEMaggDCHVy3IkcY5BVacjpW6Cm7k7hv6F_S1QtrX71fPJ36rl5wPNB1bUTNs0SQcuBkw6s9LfhPUAYH8OeldLxUTdWFc2gi4/s320/city+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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..and overlooking the beach! Best of both worlds!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7GsB_s9zNWN67vOsdMR2VmrKmUMNBRseC7i6K1p34ILEMaggDCHVy3IkcY5BVacjpW6Cm7k7hv6F_S1QtrX71fPJ36rl5wPNB1bUTNs0SQcuBkw6s9LfhPUAYH8OeldLxUTdWFc2gi4/s1600/city+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvub8pW9_kcJ7JoTf49hVvvEq6Q31Bh83WKKM0heteIJvseQPH3QHdsGQjSnKdtgznS9djLtFfIH32KGby4RECn2Z1tJzneIFXpHYt7dUkcn3_j-24dPeiai-kbGxvqL-o1J7j5yqI2c4/s1600/beach+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvub8pW9_kcJ7JoTf49hVvvEq6Q31Bh83WKKM0heteIJvseQPH3QHdsGQjSnKdtgznS9djLtFfIH32KGby4RECn2Z1tJzneIFXpHYt7dUkcn3_j-24dPeiai-kbGxvqL-o1J7j5yqI2c4/s320/beach+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPwr0Q9HODRQNneU4JIYVeiQu3SnYhwEQUXTEHxvr1Ef_hyHsST12qvaYa0lBHL0qmM78ba9Ceoc2psiXjOtnBMZysAs_yQH1qARHKb1_jMIzGjeu5bWbw3LWIWfNXdZLr1UljEalxuA/s1600/ferry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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And every morning I woke up with this little cutie staring out the glass door at the waves.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhus9ZdMqtCtxqjQ51Jptwygr4bn44TVGhvUZL8kKxYVRs2ljwsq72OBxLXAab7eGmKvDKgQFimB1IWXq83_fbZsYxMgf9Nux0y8888bGflXgqmL8gMQYQNIPUbpllHDELgtTeDNo2q3vI/s1600/jaylen+and+hb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhus9ZdMqtCtxqjQ51Jptwygr4bn44TVGhvUZL8kKxYVRs2ljwsq72OBxLXAab7eGmKvDKgQFimB1IWXq83_fbZsYxMgf9Nux0y8888bGflXgqmL8gMQYQNIPUbpllHDELgtTeDNo2q3vI/s320/jaylen+and+hb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And this sweetheart -- and my own sweetheart -- worked on music techniques. He had such cute quotes this weekend!<br />
<br />
J: Do you have an iPad?<br />
Me: Yes, we do.<br />
J: Does it have games on it?<br />
Me: Not fun games.<br />
J: Oh...Then what do you call it?<br />
<br />
J: (while watching Paula Deen) What is her <i>making</i>??<br />
<br />
J: Do you know the zoo?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnhZLWnyYBqNbnCPq_fcR1GVPpc1Nhoe0YmoANHZYslOtnvTzxU3a8OcK31AAySrMvGb6eFu2W6ydM63t6CHdXvwxcrPX_wQF_7cmtMkvsiD3jNOMJ72VbPstKYcHSlgUjZL1iqV-Vlk/s1600/kyle+and+jase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnhZLWnyYBqNbnCPq_fcR1GVPpc1Nhoe0YmoANHZYslOtnvTzxU3a8OcK31AAySrMvGb6eFu2W6ydM63t6CHdXvwxcrPX_wQF_7cmtMkvsiD3jNOMJ72VbPstKYcHSlgUjZL1iqV-Vlk/s320/kyle+and+jase.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adorable!!</td></tr>
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And, of course, there was the eating. Seriously, between Wednesday night and Thursday night, three of my four meals involved shrimp. Boiled shrimp. Shrimp poboy. Fried shrimp and flounder. And it didn't get much better the following days, either. Seafood omelet. Flounder. Snapper.<br />
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And I'm having salmon tonight. I do love some seafood!<br />
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As do these guys...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UNhJ3mb1X1tad0Jg25Ydiao72m2wGaQNhU03zT_kS_BOVjlGM-_OXqSrOwmp4W3Vh2spTRqgXLHqQDz0ZSX_pI0TT02QTaxKx7wXGp-JeIh5OimavBNxrID8dHjLWosEkg-j0pCl4oY/s1600/kyle+and+richard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UNhJ3mb1X1tad0Jg25Ydiao72m2wGaQNhU03zT_kS_BOVjlGM-_OXqSrOwmp4W3Vh2spTRqgXLHqQDz0ZSX_pI0TT02QTaxKx7wXGp-JeIh5OimavBNxrID8dHjLWosEkg-j0pCl4oY/s320/kyle+and+richard.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Husband and Richard with their Royal Reds</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVUuQZBrrwKvl090TUhKV0zrh13UlWmNAjNawHCXn61PLZMpXYn9gMg1k6fOkUKBrUz9pTeTPojqr32xm0Y_C2lc2f4z0anGS6B_uwzmPcWnGuj2QfQ2lVkonovoG8kSLDvrxPyQrtCPI/s1600/me+and+kyle+at+the+steamer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVUuQZBrrwKvl090TUhKV0zrh13UlWmNAjNawHCXn61PLZMpXYn9gMg1k6fOkUKBrUz9pTeTPojqr32xm0Y_C2lc2f4z0anGS6B_uwzmPcWnGuj2QfQ2lVkonovoG8kSLDvrxPyQrtCPI/s320/me+and+kyle+at+the+steamer.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note: While taking this picture, my husband is actually stealing a potato from my plate...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0c3tIoTOL0DpDYcSPlYiL5T7T98f3UaXF198449CkXqsf6CyteKwE0g9gK2RIPSTlIkbyDKmqukpH-eSox3LqPz6T_A1Oi2fIR2fB9O2l9GjjgCakD07NQpahNrR1X42dSvADtBScr0/s1600/ridiculously+cute+kiddos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0c3tIoTOL0DpDYcSPlYiL5T7T98f3UaXF198449CkXqsf6CyteKwE0g9gK2RIPSTlIkbyDKmqukpH-eSox3LqPz6T_A1Oi2fIR2fB9O2l9GjjgCakD07NQpahNrR1X42dSvADtBScr0/s320/ridiculously+cute+kiddos.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ridiculously adorable.</td></tr>
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We came back a day earlier than everybody else, and while I hated to say goodbye to the beach, I am happy to be home in my super comfortable bed with my sweet puppy and guard cat. And, frankly, as much as I do enjoy summer, with last night's Saints game and seeing all the back-to-school sales, I am looking forward to the fall!!Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-55887422761808644842012-08-01T06:41:00.001-07:002012-08-01T08:26:02.223-07:00Foodista<br />
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I’m two pounds up this week from what I weighed last
week. Ugh.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Granted, before everyone stones me, I understand that’s
really not a lot, and it is very possibly attributed to water weight. But,
ladies, I think we all know that when we see those numbers go up on the scale,
we get irritated. And then we try to justify it. “Well, it’s later in the day, so
that’s why the weight went up” or “I ate ridiculously poor last night, so
that’s why.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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And when the numbers go down, we pat ourselves on the
back, whether it’s deserved or not. “Look what I did!” we think excitedly. Or
maybe this is just me. Is it just me?<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I told a friend last night, last week the cupcakes did
me in. It’s not good for me to have such a close delicious bakery. With salted
caramel cupcakes. Or s’more cupcakes. Seriously, how do I turn that down? <o:p></o:p></div>
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This week, however, it’s the leftover <a href="http://www.relativetaste.net/snickers-dip/">Snickers dip</a> from the
party. I don’t have the willpower to throw it, so I guess I should eat it as
fast as possible! Right? That makes sense, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sigh...<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m trying to eat healthier. Tomorrow. I started
reading “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” in hopes that learning a bit more about where
our food comes from will encourage me to make wiser decisions. After I watched
the documentary, “Food, Inc.,” I was a vegetarian for a month. And I still hate
McDonald’s. Except for their fries. Those are delicious.<o:p></o:p></div>
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However, I have to tell you about my friend Jana, the
writer of <a href="http://wholefoodista.com/">wholefoodista.com</a>. Check out her
page. She is such an amazing cook and one of the sweetest, most genuine people
I’ve ever met. Every week at Bible study, she’s provided some snack that has
been mouthwatering – and healthy! <a href="http://wholefoodista.com/2012/07/12/snack-fruit-dip-mini-grape-skewers/">Grape
skewers and fruit dip</a> (which I made for Kyle’s party and used the leftovers
to make smoothies this week) – delicious! I also made her <a href="http://wholefoodista.com/2012/07/05/snack-crowd-pleasing-salsa/">salsa</a>
for Kyle’s party, and it was mistaken for Over the Border salsa. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My favorite of her recipes, though, has been <a href="http://wholefoodista.com/2012/07/22/supper-sweet-potato-with-black-bean-salsa/">this</a>
little gem. Seriously, you HAVE to try it. I was a little hesitant at first; I
mean, who would normally mix sweet potatoes, salsa, and black beans? Okay,
maybe you do, but I don’t. But it is now one of my favorite ways to make sweet
potatoes. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And as I plan to eat fresh seafood for the next few days,
maybe I can jumpstart my healthy eating and use her website and others to
encourage me to eat better. Granted, one of the reasons I run is to eat bad
(ice cream, greasy burgers, etc.), but I also enjoy a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i> run. And one of the ways to have a good run is to eat well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Happy healthy eating! Check out Jana’s <a href="http://www.wholefoodista.com/">website</a> and let me know of any healthy
food sites you visit regularly! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-57107671177773858072012-07-30T11:48:00.002-07:002012-07-30T11:48:31.701-07:00Happy birthday to Kyle!<!--StartFragment-->
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Today, my husband is an old man. He’s 30 years old. As I
reminded him this morning, I’ll always be younger than him. He then proceeded
to remind me that my time was coming.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He was referring to the surprise party I threw for him
Friday night. Technically, it was NOT a surprise party. I informed him there
would be a cake. I informed him there would be people. What I neglected to
inform him included how awesome the cake was and how many people would be
arriving.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsf4fZAujr-sPvir2GhCWgX3ZwFKAnmGJFMMI0m2RkY0-p7YbDhS3TvTFJiYhAGYgjZ5ubXL3P1Udabm_ltElfDnf4R2jdrrRmcCNmk4JR1vgy6z1ufqZonAeaGnY5L8h7emN08ETxnq4/s1600/group1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsf4fZAujr-sPvir2GhCWgX3ZwFKAnmGJFMMI0m2RkY0-p7YbDhS3TvTFJiYhAGYgjZ5ubXL3P1Udabm_ltElfDnf4R2jdrrRmcCNmk4JR1vgy6z1ufqZonAeaGnY5L8h7emN08ETxnq4/s320/group1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDezzO6uIxI3n7UghsNK49m7V2q0tVYgNa4kFwa49ug_kGM4cmuqZnRbLbE-Na2PPWlPBmeyMNXye-TgNR3JC1vqrqmmJJ-gq8z-Sr94it4qvhwLYC4iAWKRB0mA9oiP64E6YaWUt12I8/s1600/group2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDezzO6uIxI3n7UghsNK49m7V2q0tVYgNa4kFwa49ug_kGM4cmuqZnRbLbE-Na2PPWlPBmeyMNXye-TgNR3JC1vqrqmmJJ-gq8z-Sr94it4qvhwLYC4iAWKRB0mA9oiP64E6YaWUt12I8/s320/group2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And he had no idea.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIB6A3OuZ0AkvN-E6iR7vm8DWBGnhwoJT5Mlzq_n49xxtRwxT-ZqrHBAo1lRSBPoQWgRB_HtJQqbEcQaeu-w9kTWkc_K1WbtyIjFJrwNBpUNliBAKNxFsfSb-CeG2snqU-_jmatCPmgI/s1600/surprise.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIB6A3OuZ0AkvN-E6iR7vm8DWBGnhwoJT5Mlzq_n49xxtRwxT-ZqrHBAo1lRSBPoQWgRB_HtJQqbEcQaeu-w9kTWkc_K1WbtyIjFJrwNBpUNliBAKNxFsfSb-CeG2snqU-_jmatCPmgI/s320/surprise.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I also served as editor and producer of the film, “Kyle
Turns 30: A Story.” I wish I could put it online, but it’s a bit long, and, while
I can edit the heck out of some film footage, as I proved Friday night, I
barely know how to operate our DVD player. Sooo…yeah, there’s that. ;)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7wp-KfqfbfFX6SUmo8YCZH3yK09afWSTV5icxqVpPqkEhmqJxSga69GtZTus3EDXjzArud0sI9vtZMk6Xw1P1B93orfhj6ekxDRWGbGNhDQ33YCzubPMCi5376ci4vxv9tsSekkwpgs/s1600/kyle+watches+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7wp-KfqfbfFX6SUmo8YCZH3yK09afWSTV5icxqVpPqkEhmqJxSga69GtZTus3EDXjzArud0sI9vtZMk6Xw1P1B93orfhj6ekxDRWGbGNhDQ33YCzubPMCi5376ci4vxv9tsSekkwpgs/s320/kyle+watches+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTaJFnniXaxf_56IRmb3Q2IYjsU3Ul3LjHES1JH1IyfHKkquBcYAlxHwbjDqXZEdTSzuoN-To_ZmBjVwdIUOwOUDO72A8wLF3vZ6McRxkJKmDk-6cxbLsoYyrnLRT63DdAQcpGOGc4_g/s1600/other+ppl+watch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTaJFnniXaxf_56IRmb3Q2IYjsU3Ul3LjHES1JH1IyfHKkquBcYAlxHwbjDqXZEdTSzuoN-To_ZmBjVwdIUOwOUDO72A8wLF3vZ6McRxkJKmDk-6cxbLsoYyrnLRT63DdAQcpGOGc4_g/s320/other+ppl+watch.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I must say, I hosted a fairly excellent party.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdw9bNQpX70t1-NRebz78HROjfFm_3KpeUc6MTeOmE7kdFNupQwwWobW5YnQy1iYyQeJRrkHzb03ZoXjgLMTfe__mIYJaASn606riI0bm6cY2_yRcyq9w4339YCbmATYN6MWWOfHE8ETA/s1600/catherine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdw9bNQpX70t1-NRebz78HROjfFm_3KpeUc6MTeOmE7kdFNupQwwWobW5YnQy1iYyQeJRrkHzb03ZoXjgLMTfe__mIYJaASn606riI0bm6cY2_yRcyq9w4339YCbmATYN6MWWOfHE8ETA/s320/catherine.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catherine pets Vicki</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEh3U00f9tlGbQNh2CeNi0fhKpFlmnhqymo0BmxWdWhKito2Bs6kOijW_39bMuqDJfFa7WWKVwXj_npPHAkrGN2ArJvHZd61jznoXugsXHiT1mp7gEv_Zvd1M_4-NUrwR6nG2oeuKKiJJVI/s1600/kyle+cat+and+charlie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3U00f9tlGbQNh2CeNi0fhKpFlmnhqymo0BmxWdWhKito2Bs6kOijW_39bMuqDJfFa7WWKVwXj_npPHAkrGN2ArJvHZd61jznoXugsXHiT1mp7gEv_Zvd1M_4-NUrwR6nG2oeuKKiJJVI/s320/kyle+cat+and+charlie.JPG" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle, Catherine, and Charlie<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEgHVvBN325OJS6Gm5MJmOCzIEi98Y0jfjXI9cvW7QOPN5wXljmBLZnlFloCFsUKysmW_JLul1RbcKP2YUDR5Y6ERTvjeFDIvAD8gaaMQv_ZWjPM3uAexyk15FFL26aL9ZsYStib_sbS71w/s1600/molly+and+sk+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVvBN325OJS6Gm5MJmOCzIEi98Y0jfjXI9cvW7QOPN5wXljmBLZnlFloCFsUKysmW_JLul1RbcKP2YUDR5Y6ERTvjeFDIvAD8gaaMQv_ZWjPM3uAexyk15FFL26aL9ZsYStib_sbS71w/s320/molly+and+sk+2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BFF Molly and Sarah Kate</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/AVvXsEhQyJnNuoP1IzB6dXTdJk1uodSsVuHWR2ZmKQV2SqTC7q0XG02gloisMVVPYipWci-EdVxluuF_IGqMHskNcuRKHA5goSBN37kqOZ0b7NPT5GpWcxjGizO0s03mkvWH3kUkSXIipFkx17s/s1600/molly.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyJnNuoP1IzB6dXTdJk1uodSsVuHWR2ZmKQV2SqTC7q0XG02gloisMVVPYipWci-EdVxluuF_IGqMHskNcuRKHA5goSBN37kqOZ0b7NPT5GpWcxjGizO0s03mkvWH3kUkSXIipFkx17s/s320/molly.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Molly pets Vicki...or gets ready to pet Vicki =)</td></tr>
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And now I am married to the sweetest 30-year-old I know.
Happy birthday to my handsome husband.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-64154749874628544682012-07-27T08:27:00.000-07:002012-07-27T08:27:28.024-07:00Zombies, Run!<!--StartFragment-->
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Let’s talk about the coolest running app ever invented.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Zombies, Run!!</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am going to do my best to describe how fun this app is.
If you run (and even if you don’t), this is the app you need to buy. It’s $8
and worth every cent.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So last weekend, Kelsey and I laced up our shoes and
headed for a dusk run. Perfect. We joked that if we ran in the woods, this app
could actually be quite scary.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I placed my iPhone in my running armband and started out.
There’s a story involved, though due to some wind issues and as I had
the phone on speaker so Kelsey could hear, too, I might not have the first part
of the story all correct. But it sounded like there was a crash of some
sort…and you – or in this case, I – were in the crash but survived. And now I (and
Kelsey) was the only survivor with (apparently) a headset connecting me to
people who could see me on various cameras. They were going to lead me to the
safe zone. But first…I had to outrun the zombies.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This app also has missions
for you to accomplish. Granted, you basically <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> to do the missions, as they only involve running. Run to the
hospital. Run get the first aid kit. Run, run, run, zombies are after you!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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You became Runner 5…because the surviving humans use
runners to get supplies. And you find out what happened to the previous Runner
5…<o:p></o:p></div>
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You can actually use your own songs with this app…if you
know how to use your iPhone. I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i>
an iPhone aficionado. I like my phone just fine, but I do wish my Android had
worked better so I could have kept it. Therefore, I do not know how to do too much on
my newer phone. I just learned last week how to take a screen shot. And I don’t know
yet how to access my iTunes account on my phone. But when I do…oh, this app
will change my running life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At one point during our run, which was around the campus,
some poor guy in a car pulled up next to us to ask directions. Unfortunately,
it was this time when my contact starts yelling, “Run, run! The zombies are
after you! The zombies are after you!” So I had a choice. Let the zombies catch
me and eat my brains out or make this dude think I was crazy and run like
zombies were after me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I chose the latter. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The zombies did catch me – twice. The first time, I
didn’t even realize it until I checked my stats near the end of the run. I
still am not sure how or when that happened. The second time I was running as
fast as I could to outrun them. Unfortunately, we had eaten dinner less than 30
minutes before the run, so running at full speed for about a minute quickly
took its toll…and I decided the zombies could catch me and eat me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So what happens if the zombies catch you? Really, not
much. You lose some supplies and you hear some very scary zombie noises that
get louder and louder. It definitely revs up your adrenaline. But, thankfully,
you don’t die in the game. After all, if you got caught at the very beginning,
what’s the point in running?<o:p></o:p></div>
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The part that I think gamers will like more than me
(because I am not a gamer) is that after your run, you divide your spoils among
the townsfolk. Who gets the first aid kit, the military or the hospital or the
civilians? Who gets the food packs? The clothes? The technology? And depending
on how well you make those choices depends on how many lives you save. Somehow
my township went from 60 to 70 people after my first run. Guess the end of the
world makes people want to have babies.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You can also do this app if you want to walk – just during
the zombie attacks, I guess you need to walk faster. Your speed has to increase
for about a minute. And I love the storyline so far and that more missions are
being created.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This was my first phone app I’ve purchased, and it was a
great decision. If you’re looking for a fun run app, I’d highly suggest this
one…and maybe, just for kicks and giggles, you’ll go for a night run. Alone. ;) <o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-53902238975311915892012-07-25T08:09:00.001-07:002012-07-25T08:09:40.631-07:00Dirty Thirty<br />
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My husband turns 30 on July 30. I almost bought him
ESPN’s collection of 30 for 30 films…but I bought something much more frivolous
for him instead – and can’t say yet, as it’s a secret!</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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In celebration of his landing on the big 3-0, I have compiled
a list of thirty of my favorite memories of him – that aren’t mushy! ;)<o:p></o:p></div>
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1. The day we decided to play our own version of “Office”
Olympics in our house. I slid very well across our hardwood floor…he did not.
Luckily, we did not have to go to the hospital!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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2. The day he stopped by the side of the road to pick me
wildflowers…and when he picked them, he got mud all over his pants!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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3. The day he yelled my, ahem, school nickname (probably
shouldn’t broadcast it online) when I graduated with my master’s, and my mom
was certain someone would shank them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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4. The day we did the Warrior Dash together. Epic win.<o:p></o:p></div>
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5. Every time I scare him in the house. He’s gotten
smart, though, and if he thinks I’m hiding, he goes immediately into Defense
Mode. It’s getting harder and harder to hide and scare him, ha!<o:p></o:p></div>
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6. When we wrote an article about the Left Behind series
authors – even though, um, technically, I put myself on that article with him.
However, he was such a sweet gentleman and allowed me to co-author the article.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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7. Speaking of writing, we wrote a book!! Getting up
early every morning and drinking coffee with him while we wrote – good
memories.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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8. Going to the Viking Cooking School together –
including the time he slammed his head on the vent hood and cut himself. He was
such a trooper – hair was hanging down from the vent hood, and he was bleeding,
but he didn’t complain once. I, on the other hand, nearly passed out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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9. When he cheered me on for my first and second half
marathons. Nothing is sweeter than a champion-sized hug after running for two
hours.<o:p></o:p></div>
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10. Ah. That makes me think of another happy memory: all
of the Saints games we’ve gone to – and watching them win the Super Bowl
together. We were both on a winning high for a month.<o:p></o:p></div>
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11. Kyle goofing off at Misti’s wedding. And Kyle having
to leave after being particularly smart-aleck due to an, ahem, wardrobe
malfunction, lol!<o:p></o:p></div>
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12. The Redneck Water Park summer at Chris and Angie’s
house. <o:p></o:p></div>
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13. The phone call he made to me before he flew to Hawaii
the first time: “If my plane goes down and we’re ‘Lost,’ I’m joining up with
Locke.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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14. Bwahahahaha!!! The April Fool’s Day prank I played on
him last year when I had a REAL positive pregnancy test…but it wasn’t mine! ;)<o:p></o:p></div>
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15. How he plays music. Swoon. Okay, so this wasn’t
supposed to be mushy, but MAN, he can play the keys.<o:p></o:p></div>
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16. When we moved to NOLA, and he told some dude who
carried a gun and walked a Chihuahua and lived in the apartment above me, “Oh,
no, we’re not living together. She’s here all by herself, and I’m living forty
minutes away in Luling.” FYI, we switched homes that. night.<o:p></o:p></div>
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17. How sometimes he’ll laugh so hard he cries. It makes
me crack up every time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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18. The best vacation ever: Boston. Everything about that
trip was perfect.<o:p></o:p></div>
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19. Riding rides at amusement parks over and over and
over and over again. I’ve never met anyone who likes to go on rides as much as
I do other than him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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20. Trail biking at the parish park during the summer
with friends. <o:p></o:p></div>
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21. Walking in the rain – and not caring.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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22. When we “compromised” on what breed of dog to get – I
wanted Chihuahua, and he wanted a Siberian husky, so we decided on a pug (don’t
ask). And then thanks to Misti’s Chihuahua, Sophie…we got Vicki the Chihuahua!<o:p></o:p></div>
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23. Exploring our new backyard trails with him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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24. The first day I met him. I was a freshman in college,
and he was so kind to me, and I remember thinking, “That dude is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hot!</i> But I bet he already has a
girlfriend…” (He didn’t, but we both dated other people that year.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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25. I convinced Kyle to become a coffee connoisseur. I
LOVE that we drink coffee together…though sometimes we may compete over the
last Wild Mountain Blueberry or iced coffee!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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26. Getting our master’s degrees. We’ve never graduated together,
but that’s okay. That means more parties!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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27. When he and a bunch of our friends put up Christmas
lights at our house and their houses. They spent the day working to put
Christmas lights up on everyone’s house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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28. Our wedding, when he pulled open his shirt to reveal
his Superman shirt underneath. Priceless.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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29. Going everywhere with him. I love our vacations. It’s
just so great to always travel with your best friend.<o:p></o:p></div>
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30. Watching fireworks one Fourth of July in a parking
lot in Hot Springs. We were the only ones in the parking lot, and it was just a
sweet time standing up through his car’s sunroof watching the fireworks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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…and many more!!! Happy birthday, love!<o:p></o:p></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-15682067768816999502012-07-19T06:48:00.000-07:002012-07-19T06:48:32.296-07:00The gift of repentance<br />
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I do my best repenting in the middle of the night.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Also, for those of you keeping up with “how many words
can I not spell,” repentance is one, turns out. Thanks, spell check!<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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I knew it wasn’t going to be the best of nights. As I semi-jokingly
texted a friend earlier in the day, I had a “horde” of items that needed to be
forgiven.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And thankfully…He forgives.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve noticed that my last few posts have delved into some
religious aspect. This isn’t for any particular reason other than it’s what’s
been on my mind lately. I write what I think, and I’m thinking about the church
and Jesus. And, as evidenced last night about 3 a.m., it was about repentance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I woke up in a cold sweat, humiliated and guilty over
some of my sins from the previous day. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m fairly
overwhelmed with guilt on a regular basis. And as I laid there in the dark
wondering if I’d be able to go back to sleep, an evil thought crept in my head:
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You deserve this. You know that, right?
You deserve to get no sleep tonight</i>.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I believed it…for a time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thankfully, though, I had attended Bible study last
night. And we talked about repentance. And I spelled it with an “e” instead of
an “a” every time in my study book. But here’s the greatest truth I took out of
that lesson: Repentance is not a punishment. It’s a gift. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Repentance is a way for God to say, “Hey, it’s fine.
You’ve turned around and come back to Me, and I love you. It’s okay.” That’s
what I heard Him telling me last night – it’s okay. You’re forgiven. Let’s put
it in the past and move on with life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Do I deserve pain and suffering and the guilt? Of course.
But Jesus died on a cross and took away my punishment. I don’t have to suffer
for my mistakes; He already did. For me to believe that I deserve punishment is
true. But for me to wallow in it is wrong. All I have to do is repent. And,
honestly, I had never thought of it as a gift until <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/breaking-free-by-beth-moore/id374514823?mt=8" target="_blank">Beth Moore</a> stated it in our
study video last night. But it really is.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Today, I woke up refreshed and ready to go. I ran three miles
and drank iced coffee for breakfast. And, most importantly, I chatted it up
with God. And I thanked him for last night, because it brought me closer to Him
this morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-68858694952520119822012-07-16T06:19:00.000-07:002012-07-16T06:19:07.553-07:00Second chances<br />
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<!--StartFragment-->
</div>
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<i>Then the word of the Lord came to Jonah <b>a second time</b>: “Go
to the great city of Nineveh and proclaim to it the message I give you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Jonah obeyed the word of the Lord and went to Nineveh.
Now Nineveh was a very large city; it took three days to go through it. Jonah
began by going a day’s journey into the city, proclaiming, “Forty more days and
Nineveh will be overthrown.” The Ninevites believed God. A fast was proclaimed,
and all of them, from the greatest to the least, put on sackcloth.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>When Jonah’s warning reached the king of Nineveh, he rose
from his throne, took off his royal robes, covered himself with sackcloth and
sat down in the dust. This is the proclamation he issued in Nineveh:<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>“By the decree of the king and his nobles:<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Do not let people or animals, herds or flocks, taste
anything; do not let them eat or drink. But let people and animals be covered
with sackcloth. Let everyone call urgently on God. Let them give up their evil
ways and their violence. Who knows? <b>God may yet relent and with compassion</b> turn
from his fierce anger so that we will not perish.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>When<b> God saw what they did and how they turned</b> from their
evil ways, he relented and did not bring on them the destruction he had threatened. -- Jonah 3 (emphasis mine)</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
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The words, “Just give me a second chance,” have never
crossed my lips.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I mess up, I don’t believe I should be given a
second chance. I know I’ve messed up; I’ve hurt someone or let someone down.
And, usually, when I mess up, it’s a royal mess, or at least I think it is. I
may work hard to repair a rift or make up for a wrongdoing, but, in the deepest
corner of my mind, I don’t believe I should receive a second chance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I store a lot of guilt. When I was, ahem, requested to
leave one grad school for another, I carried the guilt for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">years</i> – and didn’t even know it for a long time. It wasn’t until I
burst into tears when Kyle mentioned it in passing one day that I realized how
deep that wound still cut. And it took a lot of prayer and a lot of love from
Kyle to realize that my guilt was unfounded.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I doubt myself after the most meaningless conversations.
I mentioned this to Kyle one night after a Wednesday night Bible study, about
how I hoped I didn’t offend one girl because I felt I had not talked to her
enough. On another occasion, I actually emailed a friend about a particularly
bitter comment (I felt) I had made toward her – and was surprised to receive a
response that she actually had not given it a second thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My guilt is nothing more than another aspect of my pride
coming out. I should be perfect, but when I fail to live up to my own
expectations, I condemn myself and decide that there’s no hope for restoration.
Not only is this wrong for myself to live a freeing life in God’s mercy and grace,
this also has a negative impact on what I call “outlier” relationships.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Outlier relationships are the surface relationships – the
ones of people you don’t see all the time but you’d still say “hey” in the
grocery store and ask how their day is. Outlier relationships include a lunch
every now and then, but you don’t go too deep; you don’t ask personal
questions, and you don’t give personal information. It’s a “test” relationship,
skin deep.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With outlier relationships, you can take ‘em or leave
‘em. And, if someone is particularly annoying one night or rude one day, you
can chalk it up to a failure in a potential friendship and not worry about that
individual anymore. Or at least I can. Or I could. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But that’s a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">person</i>.
That’s a daughter – or a son – of God. They have feelings and worries and joys
and pains just like I do. She’s looking for a job. He’s looking for acceptance.
She’s looking for friendship. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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If I don’t allow myself second chances, why would I allow
second – or third or fourth or so on – chances for other people?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Outlier relationships are tricky, precarious. You have to
give of yourself in expectation that the other person will give as well. And if
that person for some reason fails you, well, you’ve just got to hope that when
you fail them, they’ll give you a second chance, too.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-44274857063332952302012-07-09T13:14:00.000-07:002012-07-09T13:14:23.726-07:00Love the church<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"></span><br />
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 17px;">“Here's the story of the Christian faith: We love the church. Jesus loves the church. Jesus loves us, and we love him back.” – Mark Driscoll, Mars Hill Church pastor</i></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I sure am glad the church is filled with imperfect people, because I would hate to pretend that I was perfect so I could attend. </div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I hear a lot of preachers talk about how no one is perfect. They hammer this point home, but most of the people I know realize they aren’t perfect. They realize they are flawed. They realize <i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 17px;">other</i> people are flawed. So if no one’s perfect and we know that no one else is perfect, why do we expect such perfection from everyone?</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Well, frankly, I know why we expect it from some people. We expect perfection from our church in particular because Christ is perfect. We’re supposed to be mirror images of Christ, right?</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
True. But so far I’ve never met a perfect church. I’ve never gone to a church where everyone in it agreed with me on everything and did every item I wanted. Thank God for that, because, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m sure I’m wrong every now and then. ;)</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I cannot state enough about how much I <i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 17px;">do</i> love my church. I love my Sunday school class, I love my friends from the church, and I love our church staff. I love the ministries, the opportunities, and the worship. I am quite grateful for my church and my church's leadership. I am encouraged my the leadership's vision, and I am thankful to worship with this body of believers.</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Gasp – do I attend a perfect church?</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Of course not.</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
But that doesn’t mean that I love my church any less. I’m not a perfect person by any means, and I’m technically, I guess, a leader in the church, as I teach Sunday school. But if I am looking for perfection, all I need to look to is our God. Not a human. We’re all fallible, therefore all churches are fallible. Jesus is not.</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I want to bring people into our church, not push them away. How can I do that if all I do is bash my church? I can’t. It’s hard enough to get people to come to church! I don’t want to do anything to give them an additional reason to stay away from the Christian faith.</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Since I do teach Sunday school, our minister of education sends us updates about membership. You know where most of our members come from? Other churches. It’s not often that we have people not involved in another church join church.</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I think people are looking for a place where they can be accepted, flaws and all, but they don’t think they’ll get it from the church. In particular, I believe that women are looking for love from the church. Women in the church and women outside the church need encouragement. It’s not easy juggling everything! It’s not easy trying to hold everything together, but our society has made us believe that it <i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 17px;">should</i> be easy. We should do everything perfectly. There’s a funny Internet meme going around that the perfect woman should have five things: a great body, a full-time job, a clean house, dinner cooked on time every night, and a great sex life – and then it says pick two of five.</div>
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If we expect ourselves to be perfect and beat ourselves up when we don’t succeed, it’s no surprise that we expect the same from others. But we shouldn’t do either.</div>
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We need to love each other, support each other. Then, just as we do it for each other, we need to build up the church as well. Our church is supposed to be a haven, a comfort – not a place of derision. Prayer request time should not become a gossip fest. Worship needs to be whatever you need it to be, whether it’s quiet time with God or a moment for rejoicing. </div>
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And we need to quit thinking that everyone who isn’t Jesus should be perfect.</div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-41239918381769005492012-07-02T11:06:00.001-07:002012-07-02T11:06:32.884-07:00Summer swinging<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
June 2011, I was packing my bags. My house
was on the market, and I was getting ready to move into our new home. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This summer, it seems like there’s been a lot of movement,
too!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One of my <a href="http://www.huckleberrygumbo.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">best friends</a> moved away this summer – and I’m
still not happy about it!! However, I like to see the glass as half full, so at
least she moved to a fun city (Pro No. 1) that’s within a half day’s drive from
my house (Pro No. 2). So I’m already planning on my weekend visit when she gets
settled into her new, gorgeous house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
However, she’s not the only one moving this summer. =) In the next couple of weeks, my
sweet Rindy is moving basically next door to me!! It’s a four-minute walk from
her house to mine, and a five-minute walk if we choose to go by the park. I’m
so happy about this that I could burst. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her
new house is precious, too. It’s a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house with a
front archway and a wooded backyard that is just made for hammocks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Speaking of hammocks…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiCi7eOvms9K11PP7BMei7KmbeJ5z4LvOhFzBCQyA9f4GcPIip2IEVOJjyCIf7e_KB62g56tlTclORrmSJW_wNJdF02Hukd8KrzcXWcO7vpJjUqeHlQB3RpwVq2v9SOkDyGq8tQB8xd8/s1600/lakejune2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiCi7eOvms9K11PP7BMei7KmbeJ5z4LvOhFzBCQyA9f4GcPIip2IEVOJjyCIf7e_KB62g56tlTclORrmSJW_wNJdF02Hukd8KrzcXWcO7vpJjUqeHlQB3RpwVq2v9SOkDyGq8tQB8xd8/s320/lakejune2012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cV6l6Knf9UpRSSlAya9JJEXU4-7RShBB1YY9uQC7ZJQTDnrwGGBnwGgwF0IZX_cyAnlmm9T6Ye7ZZGsRhmtbjSZSlO4JlEjYCL5MUjCHyb5sVnU4h0iYHH1BHMoEUZmIsWcs-S6_uhg/s1600/lake+again+june+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cV6l6Knf9UpRSSlAya9JJEXU4-7RShBB1YY9uQC7ZJQTDnrwGGBnwGgwF0IZX_cyAnlmm9T6Ye7ZZGsRhmtbjSZSlO4JlEjYCL5MUjCHyb5sVnU4h0iYHH1BHMoEUZmIsWcs-S6_uhg/s320/lake+again+june+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p>We had a laid back day at the lake this weekend with Matt and <a href="http://www.anardentlove.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Tara</a> -- and Giselle.</o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQjy7Y_MNuBx3tgBRs0eXeQ6ACiAHYGX5Nzmd8urwfpyK7x0Xa4RO0Zavt5IrEyEd7F5U_cDxBfHtoc9whbFZg1UpnQUn62pHs4WNKnYOlrHCllknTXVagXTPMhqJspQQiFcGomAQB9xc/s1600/matt+and+tara's+giselle+june+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQjy7Y_MNuBx3tgBRs0eXeQ6ACiAHYGX5Nzmd8urwfpyK7x0Xa4RO0Zavt5IrEyEd7F5U_cDxBfHtoc9whbFZg1UpnQUn62pHs4WNKnYOlrHCllknTXVagXTPMhqJspQQiFcGomAQB9xc/s320/matt+and+tara's+giselle+june+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giselle did not get to ride on the boat, but I'm sure she was okay with it. ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p>When I compare this summer to last summer, the difference is so extreme. I was taking 12 hours of grad school, which was a massive hassle; dealing with the illness of family members, including my husband; and trying to sell and buy a new house. Thankfully, that summer went by quickly, and I finished up the last bit of my doctoral classes and sold our old house to move into another one -- in record time, too!! Through all of the trials we dealt with last year, I can still see how much God blessed us in the midst of them -- including a beautiful new house and letting me get finished with my school work.</o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p>And now...life is pretty swell. </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_lHyThmr0iaTpwpEUA4fgRusR4dBxrmwg4sPCd87B05y6OR1o-VLY3ib1IIsiw_2J7hFqa0X7M5vwpu5Frv6gzagELQaLmmQI_zMAPRaZqcAJLnuHP4laA9KtZX1TM3u2kUdE85D_og4/s1600/judith+and+tara+at+lake+june+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_lHyThmr0iaTpwpEUA4fgRusR4dBxrmwg4sPCd87B05y6OR1o-VLY3ib1IIsiw_2J7hFqa0X7M5vwpu5Frv6gzagELQaLmmQI_zMAPRaZqcAJLnuHP4laA9KtZX1TM3u2kUdE85D_og4/s320/judith+and+tara+at+lake+june+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Tara on the boat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEhp2kZl8vxOreNzZrORXtEuIuEPVhRJrjatQLzyakXyY4w7430EXgeVI0DboZdp9hvNDa3lB-arivYf91Dybg75QgJu6oeSGefEmlf5mwXDhckDZst4kIJsR-0TQ9iNcp77u72gp135JoM/s1600/kyle+at+lake+june+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2kZl8vxOreNzZrORXtEuIuEPVhRJrjatQLzyakXyY4w7430EXgeVI0DboZdp9hvNDa3lB-arivYf91Dybg75QgJu6oeSGefEmlf5mwXDhckDZst4kIJsR-0TQ9iNcp77u72gp135JoM/s320/kyle+at+lake+june+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My handsome and brilliant husband</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I'm very intrigued to see what changes will be made next year. It's scary, really, in a way. To be excited but apprehensive, knowing that a year, a month, a day, a phone call -- can change everything. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What a difference a year makes.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-54443533800321441772012-06-27T07:53:00.003-07:002012-06-27T08:09:28.142-07:00Summer student quotesMost of you who teach may be reading this by the pool, in your nice, quiet home, or while your sitting at a coffee shop sipping on a mocha. Lucky you. I, on the other hand, still see students every day and am teaching an online class. Therefore, without further ado, the summer edition of student quotes, including a best excuses section!<br />
<br />
<br />
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Colleague, interviewing a potential staff writer: Why do
you feel that you can write?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Student: I have a lot of friends who write.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Student: There’s two really hot guys who both drive
Lexuses…I mean Lexi.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Student: If I really wanted to get creepy about it, I
could find out a lot about you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i>About posing nude for money for a college art class…</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Student: I’d do it. I don’t come cheap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Me: They only pay $30 for four hours
of work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Student: That’s not cheap. That’s three *local restaurant* burgers. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Student: Marketing doesn’t look
hard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: Have you ever taken a
marketing class?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Student: I took a public
relations class. It’s the same thing, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Student: This place is nice. It’s
like a gated community.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Other student: Those aren’t
gates. Those are bars on the windows.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Student: What do you do in the
CIA? What does that even stand for?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Student: I did bad on this
midterm. I studied the wrong stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: How? I told you everything
that was going to be on it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Student: I know…I just studied
the wrong stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<i>Top three excuses for an online class:</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Student: I can’t do the
assignments because I’m on a cruise, and it’s $2 a minute to get online.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Me: A vacation does not
constitute an excused absence.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Student: I didn’t do the
assignments because I didn’t realize I was supposed to check my email every
day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<i>Student sends me an <b>email</b> with
the following:</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do the assignments
because my Internet connection doesn’t work.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
Again. He/she sent me an EMAIL
with that sentence.<br />
<br />
Thank you, and good night!</div>
</div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-11812951696750938052012-06-25T07:49:00.001-07:002012-06-25T11:21:20.152-07:00Beach bumWhy I love the beach...<br />
<br />
Because I love drinking iced coffee with my toes in the sand.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYBWi_H7UsJ6VlKhPky8BzLT7YLvmd4wiGCB_BjrRIinkoT0LIHw1y2HiZcU60XJAEszG3eNCvFlbn1-nwbpDXllM9Tb1oisjafuHuMkexu-PcSmWVNWqxOENEmmKpTMmVMBDoGqJhrk/s1600/DSC01917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYBWi_H7UsJ6VlKhPky8BzLT7YLvmd4wiGCB_BjrRIinkoT0LIHw1y2HiZcU60XJAEszG3eNCvFlbn1-nwbpDXllM9Tb1oisjafuHuMkexu-PcSmWVNWqxOENEmmKpTMmVMBDoGqJhrk/s320/DSC01917.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Because I love hearing the sound of waves crashing into the shore.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArSERWxMjy7Ib7PVmnJ386pEpSEYcdppGYvkuYdFtw8Ee4UkdCsqm3gmKwpkAuMdZCwK155lTDo7fl__rXCsUt3F7uzTa_tfFDOCCfFp_tPQaxIHF8C6SIab45a_iwpITqwdhIXWfOoU/s1600/DSC01918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArSERWxMjy7Ib7PVmnJ386pEpSEYcdppGYvkuYdFtw8Ee4UkdCsqm3gmKwpkAuMdZCwK155lTDo7fl__rXCsUt3F7uzTa_tfFDOCCfFp_tPQaxIHF8C6SIab45a_iwpITqwdhIXWfOoU/s320/DSC01918.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Because I love being with precious girlfriends and spending time together.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYw5Pr73HypIN4OVfq-NZJSFu3y10NsW2FzBKhBvi85OlO3JFe9ijjaKDh1qTFJ20qEc_iuDdwj8NQoYTah8Y369euqWsNG_ubUFU5v1D7cPW4f1SA0b0KdG6Nx6MOzKLzx-kkqU4tLPM/s1600/DSC01919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYw5Pr73HypIN4OVfq-NZJSFu3y10NsW2FzBKhBvi85OlO3JFe9ijjaKDh1qTFJ20qEc_iuDdwj8NQoYTah8Y369euqWsNG_ubUFU5v1D7cPW4f1SA0b0KdG6Nx6MOzKLzx-kkqU4tLPM/s320/DSC01919.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Because I love to shop. ;)<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-K-Xuhvar_FzMMsYmB6ZRG4SMSbvQfhezXsn7_GAJkIt13-FllpJ-ITzV0eJzEuS9Jm0NN0RMhcieOC7Y4xXSLlOJLu0PRIizZ0ql0JsOzwxxDC-TvT8UcNOQrFue2RXrOZL4qkYkZb4/s1600/photo-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-K-Xuhvar_FzMMsYmB6ZRG4SMSbvQfhezXsn7_GAJkIt13-FllpJ-ITzV0eJzEuS9Jm0NN0RMhcieOC7Y4xXSLlOJLu0PRIizZ0ql0JsOzwxxDC-TvT8UcNOQrFue2RXrOZL4qkYkZb4/s320/photo-26.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
Because I love to eat seafood with a great view.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UFxfTRSt624sMyLPeIeYhGOCieLTzDnUKV-b4_utwTe079Axms5nAwG4E-FewYpTERXe_z0BqVIi0b857gydzk3dlD1W1LgN6aY5ou9uShHFLWB9PsZHe9xANGmS-A6tsJeCftC8G3s/s1600/DSC01920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UFxfTRSt624sMyLPeIeYhGOCieLTzDnUKV-b4_utwTe079Axms5nAwG4E-FewYpTERXe_z0BqVIi0b857gydzk3dlD1W1LgN6aY5ou9uShHFLWB9PsZHe9xANGmS-A6tsJeCftC8G3s/s320/DSC01920.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Because the ocean is still beautiful even before a storm.<br />
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Because if your ocean house has a pool, you can swim at night!<br />
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Because, on the beach, there are no calories in donuts. ;)<br />
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Because you can relax.<br />
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(Though you may get sunburned!)<br />
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Because I love seeing seagulls.<br />
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Because I love playing in the sand.<br />
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Because every wave is different.<br />
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<br />Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-2174597038279283262012-06-18T13:22:00.002-07:002012-06-18T13:22:54.825-07:00Babies, babies everywhere...You know how some weekends are just <i>good</i>? Not just normal good, but italicized good. Granted, most of the time, I have pretty sweet weekends in general, but this one was overly picture-worthy. =) Be warned: It's an overload of cuteness here.<br />
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My husband and I took a quick trip north this weekend to visit my mom, dad, and grandmother...and we had a couple of semi-surprise visitors -- sweet little Brycen, my cousin's son, and my aunt, who brought her grandson.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr6IotHRKrwCKR2hmI9o_z0qg0a4ceNKd-Ohu2vH5CqMN_QsehtT7vtCYAcJhdTKLlekC2fhNaAgVUfaaE3V8-If0cTksa3Yjynw9lTF3whyDxaixZEI7o66vruWOzQm75m4qS4auv798/s1600/bk1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr6IotHRKrwCKR2hmI9o_z0qg0a4ceNKd-Ohu2vH5CqMN_QsehtT7vtCYAcJhdTKLlekC2fhNaAgVUfaaE3V8-If0cTksa3Yjynw9lTF3whyDxaixZEI7o66vruWOzQm75m4qS4auv798/s1600/bk1.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brycen, my mom, and (trying to hide, it seems) my dad.</td></tr>
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Seriously, how precious is his little face? I couldn't stop kissing the sweet kiddo.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My husband -- Brycen's new BFF</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinnertime!!!</td></tr>
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I might have hogged the sweet redheaded angel and told him I was going to take him home with me. I was just kidding, though! Um...sort of. ;)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was greatly attached to my hair. Next time, I'll wear a ponytail!!</td></tr>
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Reason No. 2 why this weekend was super awesome: ELLA!!! I *might* have left work early simply to see this cutie pie and her equally cute mama.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSzLxNwAyb12a9ABqLJkwizQRZ7GS240ZhXL6gz55XGJcFxZRbnfM4u1cmuGoXHuyJC93obuD72zFtwb4uaijuG_78ENR0g1YIHpN2VkS0NCsPkIjV-8wUANqfSQD9naSNx8JdoPrHf4/s1600/ellajune2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSzLxNwAyb12a9ABqLJkwizQRZ7GS240ZhXL6gz55XGJcFxZRbnfM4u1cmuGoXHuyJC93obuD72zFtwb4uaijuG_78ENR0g1YIHpN2VkS0NCsPkIjV-8wUANqfSQD9naSNx8JdoPrHf4/s320/ellajune2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is that not the definition of precious or what?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This dashing gentleman is Mr. Anderson, and he is born to be in front of a camera. Seriously. Every picture he takes is just adorable. See below? Yeah, he was about to burst into tears (apparently, only Simba can sing on the Lion King -- no one else at the table is allowed, HA!). Just fyi, he recovered quickly. Maybe he didn't like it when Mufasa died.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi168XW2Ls2-bTsiRO6Ywa9QkUUVXiVIE8OmzrnkaOfZlOCij7Xi2jsKsFY82FWTu9u5nJrr8J2NiW4FX0jX9BX673M5CLfAhBvkWBqURLA0wet1kqMbsYAfYXCvf6C4idRI8dG_OSfHc/s1600/andersonjune2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi168XW2Ls2-bTsiRO6Ywa9QkUUVXiVIE8OmzrnkaOfZlOCij7Xi2jsKsFY82FWTu9u5nJrr8J2NiW4FX0jX9BX673M5CLfAhBvkWBqURLA0wet1kqMbsYAfYXCvf6C4idRI8dG_OSfHc/s320/andersonjune2012.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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And, to relax and unwind, I spent Sunday afternoon at the park. I staked out my dock, took a peach milkshake and my Bible study, and just baked in the sun. I had a few "friends" come by, too. I regretted not bringing any old bread to feed them, but I figured I could make up for it next time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9lJyq1QrH6pOC8nZxESb-2InrZlXObWAWaPfBPSIMhrSbs8kFtxHIddX7_PVhBTgz3yromSArAwnOpu757aDu2yt0w9OnSX936DdKq2vjeEyH4G9ayOZjs-_DPMV-PM7vA4om533jbnA/s1600/lpp2june2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9lJyq1QrH6pOC8nZxESb-2InrZlXObWAWaPfBPSIMhrSbs8kFtxHIddX7_PVhBTgz3yromSArAwnOpu757aDu2yt0w9OnSX936DdKq2vjeEyH4G9ayOZjs-_DPMV-PM7vA4om533jbnA/s320/lpp2june2012.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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Some weekends are just picturesque.</div>
<br />Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-91546600650003622572012-06-15T07:33:00.002-07:002012-06-15T07:37:18.432-07:00Friday musings<br />
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Maybe it’s because I’ve upped my caffeine intake in the
past couple of days, maybe it’s because my Bible study is rocking my socks, or
maybe it’s just that two out of three wins still equal a winning week, but, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i>, I’m really loving June.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyone else feel that way? I hope so!<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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A lot of things have been running around in my head –
some of them deserve their own blog post – but as it’s Friday and I get off in
three hours, I cannot give the focus to some of these topics as they deserve.
So you get snippets:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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* Women need community. Women of the church need to reach
out to other women, love them deeply, and encourage them. We all have pangs of
loneliness at times. It’s our job to band together to help our sisters out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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* You can’t choose family, but God did. Maybe (even the
annoying ones!) are there for a reason. Maybe you’re in that family to help
them grow as much as they’re in your family to help <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> grow. <o:p></o:p></div>
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* I had high hopes of this being the Summer of Me, where
it was just one party after another celebrating my Ph.D. Sadly, the Ph.D. is on
its last leg of being finished, but, in happier news, I apparently don’t need a
reason to party, as I have several trips lined up. Woo hoo!! Beach bound, baby!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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* Yeah. I’m super excited about my first beach trip of
the summer. Can.Not.Wait.<o:p></o:p></div>
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* If I don’t stop eating blueberries and tomatoes, I may
turn into a blue tomato. (On a similar thought, if I injected blue food
coloring in a tomato, would it turn blue??? That would be so cool.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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* My women’s Bible study is amazing. The studies we do
are insightful, and the women involved are so lovely, inside and out. Also, I
love my Sunday School class. We’ve been teaching the singles group for a little
over two years now. Amazing to think that when we first started, we had ZERO
people come for six weeks (straight) and now we have an average of 8 to 10.
Love that group. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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* My cat apparently is an attack cat. I always suspected,
but we found the proof yesterday. Feathers. Everywhere. No body, though…<o:p></o:p></div>
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* I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">almost</i> have
all my universities cooperating so I can start conducting my dissertation
research. I’m in contact with four universities across the U.S. (Louisiana,
Arizona, North Carolina, and Ohio), and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i>
of them have different requirements for research on their campus. CRAZY. BUT,
the good news is that all of my info has been turned in, and all of them have
said I should hear back from them within a week. WHEW. Once I do that, I will
collect my research for about a month (hopefully no longer than that) and then
it’ll take me about another month to finish my dissertation. So we’re hoping
for an October finish date!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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* We should begin on renovating one of our two 1960s
bathrooms next month. Thank. Goodness. That pink bathtub in the front bathroom
is driving me crazy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I can’t believe we’re already midway through June! Is it
sad that I feel it’s going too quickly?? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Oh, because I love this sweet pup, here are some pictures
of my Voo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL80YOINQZh-14qttiKtfTdig1Y_OZPxy5E1mFnNsl7eSm4v4fhJpyjSzIJ6E7fM3cqjUYsJt-sh5KMf3PslQkdwCtBiCpmmyQAUqF7F4zcTIncmXnQKPKR-uygr2jvB52HYpAksj-Vcw/s1600/wetdog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL80YOINQZh-14qttiKtfTdig1Y_OZPxy5E1mFnNsl7eSm4v4fhJpyjSzIJ6E7fM3cqjUYsJt-sh5KMf3PslQkdwCtBiCpmmyQAUqF7F4zcTIncmXnQKPKR-uygr2jvB52HYpAksj-Vcw/s320/wetdog.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone was not happy with bath time!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></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/AVvXsEj7NrmR_ana-FKWIX4yPiyh6oh0hVYaLJ3SccQXfmfu3m0SNfQj1ktr9gX14DU3Zy2663e4sauORYmRiK0k9SlnUEo61ljWHR1JtlZRFs8G8mW1TIBffFdr0e9dpLTDqu4uKzBjmu8fkFQ/s1600/playingpooch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NrmR_ana-FKWIX4yPiyh6oh0hVYaLJ3SccQXfmfu3m0SNfQj1ktr9gX14DU3Zy2663e4sauORYmRiK0k9SlnUEo61ljWHR1JtlZRFs8G8mW1TIBffFdr0e9dpLTDqu4uKzBjmu8fkFQ/s320/playingpooch.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But she does love belly rubs!!!</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/AVvXsEhRY35rx7Scz0-ws1uJdh0HUdUmy6H1kLcy6uTQkkgAyhgjvlhoAohCmrAVssIk_CexZENB5ZtruFxPlpegbfcKHSo66LnkcS5IEbN7rTy6KYW40aIx9pCgTrT-IjHYD0zs32M9jgZLb1Y/s1600/ajune2012brycen3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRY35rx7Scz0-ws1uJdh0HUdUmy6H1kLcy6uTQkkgAyhgjvlhoAohCmrAVssIk_CexZENB5ZtruFxPlpegbfcKHSo66LnkcS5IEbN7rTy6KYW40aIx9pCgTrT-IjHYD0zs32M9jgZLb1Y/s1600/ajune2012brycen3.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously, not the Voo. This is my grandmother and my cousin's sweet baby, Brycen. I LOVE this photo. Isn't this the sweetest??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Favorite quotes of the week:<br />
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"I do not seek, O Lord, to penetrate thy depths. I by no means think my intellect is equal to them; but I long to understand in some degree thy truth, which my heart believes and loves. For I do not seek to understand that I may believe, but I believe, that I may understand." -- <a href="http://justus.anglican.org/resources/bio/141.html" target="_blank">Anselm</a><br />
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Do not be quick with your mouth; do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few. -- Ecclesiastes 5:2</div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-18916600135180795132012-06-11T08:21:00.001-07:002012-06-11T08:21:19.052-07:00Home updates<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Over Memorial Day weekend, I got it in my head to repaint
our office. It was a dull red color, not very inspiring and it made the room
look smaller and darker. As it’s on the bottom level of our house anyway and
has one small window, I felt it needed to be brighter.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I only needed to paint two walls, also. One of the walls
is white and covered with bookshelves and storage space, and the other wall,
the one with the window, is a white brick. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUh4HIkx1XUG5_15MlsAGKPlNjcjCUQ4DJyK7P1CP2vwKMuhasMh7f7qO3UYn4ZxZQRLvd1GX1tbfu6sMXqEljQIAzqgaU2oDD4qMaQumNp2tYxudf3WZLou9pAgJIzCFzsKd9yxQDrGo/s1600/bookshelf.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUh4HIkx1XUG5_15MlsAGKPlNjcjCUQ4DJyK7P1CP2vwKMuhasMh7f7qO3UYn4ZxZQRLvd1GX1tbfu6sMXqEljQIAzqgaU2oDD4qMaQumNp2tYxudf3WZLou9pAgJIzCFzsKd9yxQDrGo/s320/bookshelf.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our bookshelves</td></tr>
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<o:p>I </o:p>don’t have a problem with red. I actually like red.
But I wasn’t a big fan of this particular red in this particular room. So I decided it was time to recolor!<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/AVvXsEiSxnkq1CfNapHMGesnwO8tXt0IOsb-J_mAS7ajOUQXfoIZXp-4-GMlcCNy3iz38Pg4uI9_I61MedDl79cNBSpXejXeCikLXYbOPh_Lczbn8Nd7_ZkXUN8gj1CFGIdMKsR1ldeGgJachm4/s1600/red1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxnkq1CfNapHMGesnwO8tXt0IOsb-J_mAS7ajOUQXfoIZXp-4-GMlcCNy3iz38Pg4uI9_I61MedDl79cNBSpXejXeCikLXYbOPh_Lczbn8Nd7_ZkXUN8gj1CFGIdMKsR1ldeGgJachm4/s320/red1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hubby giving me his version of the "duck face" while moving his music equipment. Note the painter's tape in his pocket. This sweet man put up EVERY BIT of painters tape for me.</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/AVvXsEibaDmMwYPtASsbQXHJ_OGP-23bLlU0yznkolv6VOhLBHCMOsDiZs5EroH8BBP_-O4k9NemKllLqdcz5DeZTEoFFyGUzY0uhDGQW55bNmsUds_3fajOolD0sCWF7kj0B3i218WBLai8XUA/s1600/red2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibaDmMwYPtASsbQXHJ_OGP-23bLlU0yznkolv6VOhLBHCMOsDiZs5EroH8BBP_-O4k9NemKllLqdcz5DeZTEoFFyGUzY0uhDGQW55bNmsUds_3fajOolD0sCWF7kj0B3i218WBLai8XUA/s320/red2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting the priming work!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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It only took nine months, but I finally decided on the
perfect color: Tiffany blue.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwIt73reP5yP0ttqgO9N4qWLOpHT_PWfgmW7UkiqCMBqRp-P3qObK5v4UMvK12y8WBEAuzqRjMIxAGmTvUhbYxX1HL8L5ZdrX7V8t9OzHfLgGd4CYlmqwAJNPk_IK7fe0AgEY2nsTnes/s1600/blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwIt73reP5yP0ttqgO9N4qWLOpHT_PWfgmW7UkiqCMBqRp-P3qObK5v4UMvK12y8WBEAuzqRjMIxAGmTvUhbYxX1HL8L5ZdrX7V8t9OzHfLgGd4CYlmqwAJNPk_IK7fe0AgEY2nsTnes/s320/blue.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It’s just a bright color, and I thought it would go very
well with the white half of our office. And, as Kyle even was a fan when I was
finished, I think I succeeded.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94TmpsvABee67kd3SAK8Drzbhg0NBKsVqEW6gNW0_qohHw81G88DqZv5woMPNzWqiyAdWfYNdnoOQULfPvXvOMe-t9wAtJUFO8ZueFQW5x2Gs629j_85wvCRKHUtuF5MPK3NFbiM_P-4/s1600/feet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94TmpsvABee67kd3SAK8Drzbhg0NBKsVqEW6gNW0_qohHw81G88DqZv5woMPNzWqiyAdWfYNdnoOQULfPvXvOMe-t9wAtJUFO8ZueFQW5x2Gs629j_85wvCRKHUtuF5MPK3NFbiM_P-4/s320/feet.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My feet after painting. Eek!!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEj8Z-uCzYPBXvLDVtyGrQShmeiu4FMn-pECnwxw9pFyn_mFFW9RjaGL3S0txCM2WKsNzfTk_EkSu6nQINigOy9thYglqwimhkj_2hDztP9mKTQyfgDGFnDxaatLhH4BHDn_5QdNUR91Hmo/s1600/hand.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Z-uCzYPBXvLDVtyGrQShmeiu4FMn-pECnwxw9pFyn_mFFW9RjaGL3S0txCM2WKsNzfTk_EkSu6nQINigOy9thYglqwimhkj_2hDztP9mKTQyfgDGFnDxaatLhH4BHDn_5QdNUR91Hmo/s320/hand.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SOMEONE put her hand in wet paint -- not once, but twice! Gah!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEg5Ac7HgnRwmy07c6F8BndFUj-trCDKEzziIfjaOdDp6tPGFZ8UCzZR-5Mjj_z3nBJ_c5m5mtZ3SakNLnB9Q2quhhyphenhyphenrJV7x_gSjHTiS54VJUFL3eCvA9CAgy2BR8KWWniFSc3G_BEv6Mpg/s1600/satisfied.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ac7HgnRwmy07c6F8BndFUj-trCDKEzziIfjaOdDp6tPGFZ8UCzZR-5Mjj_z3nBJ_c5m5mtZ3SakNLnB9Q2quhhyphenhyphenrJV7x_gSjHTiS54VJUFL3eCvA9CAgy2BR8KWWniFSc3G_BEv6Mpg/s320/satisfied.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One happy couple after the painting was done!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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…And now the after!</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5L9HN71tqPQl154cxwKMsBvTwp53hDF-VOiM2ps2yoVBn4pStuEPINQKBI29M6JynCUC5b39nYjsnBsFPoEpA6sDjreDYV1PEIbE8L8wM-Ldi4Hu6CyVBlkrsurQgtWOaRPmMOKpTUA/s1600/newpaint.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5L9HN71tqPQl154cxwKMsBvTwp53hDF-VOiM2ps2yoVBn4pStuEPINQKBI29M6JynCUC5b39nYjsnBsFPoEpA6sDjreDYV1PEIbE8L8wM-Ldi4Hu6CyVBlkrsurQgtWOaRPmMOKpTUA/s320/newpaint.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My crafting desk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEjxHJ51aLSCFDFr4bpaHol3-2giGS7AB76wC9vCI7GBce-TfBXg5J5idMPXpEaylUTyo38hOyHg10xU6zNskv9n_paJvM_QSIBmcUJtp1E-O-mW0FZUvQfAxUrHb1A6huN0hwSN3SnCpvo/s1600/newpaint2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxHJ51aLSCFDFr4bpaHol3-2giGS7AB76wC9vCI7GBce-TfBXg5J5idMPXpEaylUTyo38hOyHg10xU6zNskv9n_paJvM_QSIBmcUJtp1E-O-mW0FZUvQfAxUrHb1A6huN0hwSN3SnCpvo/s320/newpaint2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FINALLY -- pictures are being placed on the walls!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I still have just a few touch ups, but, overall, I’m
quite glad to have one more room in our house painted. Now just one and a half
to go!</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-55015331478191344562012-06-05T07:03:00.001-07:002012-06-05T07:03:41.487-07:00Of Freedom<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Freedom never comes
through disobedience.</i> – Beth Moore, “Psalms of Ascent” study</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In a few weeks, America is going to have a party.
Independence Day, the Fourth of July, will be filled with fireworks, people
getting a day off of work, and red, white, and blue decorations. We’ll have
barbecues, ice cream, and a hole in our pockets where our money used to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We’ll celebrate our freedom, remember our soldiers, and
maybe even take a swim in the lake.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But what would Independence Day look like without rules,
without consequence? What if everyone stole the fireworks instead of paid for
them? What if driving while intoxicated was legal? What if our FDA regulations
were not in place regarding the food in our grocery stores?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We have freedom, right? But we have to follow the rules.
We have freedom, but there are consequences for breaking the law. These laws
were put into place to keep us safe, to keep us from harm. But we are free.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Right?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Then why is it so different when we look at God’s rules?
We have freedom in following God’s laws – do not commit adultery, do not steal,
honor your parents, love your neighbor. His laws are in place, but we often
seem to think that God’s laws, which were put into place to give us freedom,
actually hinder our freedom.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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If we live in a country where we celebrate our freedom
that is based on rules and laws, why would we believe different about our
Father’s rules? Man is imperfect; God is not.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I know several agnostics, atheists, and people who
generally believe that the Easter-Christmas church visits will somehow get them
into heaven. I know people who go to church on Sunday but forget the sermon
before they’re out of the parking lot or choose to ignore it because it doesn’t
fit in with their lifestyle. I know this because I’ve been that person more
than I care to admit.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We can’t pick and choose what we want to believe in, if
we choose to believe in the Bible. Our pastor made a fantastic point in church
this Sunday when he started his sermon series on Jonah – “When I taught
seminary, as I got to the book of Jonah, a lot of students had read scholars
who have said that Jonah should not be taken literally. It should be read as a
cautionary tale. They don’t believe that there was a prophet named Jonah who
was swallowed by a whale and then tossed back up. I, then, would ask them, ‘Do
you believe that Jesus died on a cross and rose from the dead three days later?
Then why is the story of Jonah so fantastic and unbelievable?’”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We can’t decide that one of God’s laws in the New Covenant
(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews%2012:24&version=ESV">Hebrews
12:24</a>) applies to us and then the other doesn’t. In our country, we can’t
decide that stealing is okay but speeding is not. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We have freedom in our country, and we have freedom in
God. The rules are in place for our protection and safety. Why is that so
difficult to believe?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5946954274619436225.post-88316594108133572792012-05-31T05:58:00.004-07:002012-05-31T05:58:41.012-07:00What Not To Eat<br />
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I feel like I would be a bad friend on all accounts if,
after trying a recipe that had great reviews, I did not tell the world how
awful it was.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That’s right, folks – today we’re going to talk about my
mistakes in the kitchen. Well, technically just one. Because I only made one (She’s
got jokes!).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I found this really interesting blog post about low carb
pizza. As my husband shouldn’t eat pizza at night because it runs his blood
sugar up, I thought this would be a great alternative to ordering delivery from
Domino’s. Plus, it CLAIMED to only have 7 grams of carbs in the ENTIRE PIZZA. That
alone made me want to try it, because most meals don’t have just seven carbs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKVV_EzCczeuv08BkPuocJW6fOSWTKMCWCDUHPG8thv8KF-1KaNaGs4mw2tsRclJtgzVAfTYDzAFdFUMNbK3OY7VzELaDfRKHtBtMYeu3V0IRgvuBrB1o_oVXPvr0loExVciXJNaE2BI/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKVV_EzCczeuv08BkPuocJW6fOSWTKMCWCDUHPG8thv8KF-1KaNaGs4mw2tsRclJtgzVAfTYDzAFdFUMNbK3OY7VzELaDfRKHtBtMYeu3V0IRgvuBrB1o_oVXPvr0loExVciXJNaE2BI/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks great, doesn't it? Looks can be deceiving...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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To make the crust, which is where the carb problems come
from, instead of using flour, you use flaxseed meal. I’ve used flaxseeds in
cooking before, but never to create something like an entire crust. Usually it
would be to add some fiber to my diet. Or just to make me feel better about
eating a whole stack of pancakes. You get the idea.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Problem No. 1 arose when I discovered when putting the
flax seed in that there were more than 7 grams of carbs in the 1.5 cups of flaxseed needed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Hmmmm…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No problem, I thought. Maybe the writer of the recipe
forgot to add a zero to the end, and she really meant 70.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
NOPE.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Granted, in the end, there weren’t many carbs in the
entire pizza – only about 100. That’s not bad, really, especially not for an
entire pizza. Therefore, I was willing to keep cooking.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The pizza smelled great, too, from baking the crust to
melting the cheese and meat. We were really excited. The crust looked a little
more brown than the picture I had (it wasn’t burnt, it just was naturally that
color, actually), but that’s fine, we said. We were willing to give anything a
try.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And here’s the moral of the story: Don’t. Try. This.
Pizza.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
By distracting myself with watching reruns of “The Office”
in which I tried to quote the entire episode by memory, I managed to swallow
two pieces. Kyle, however, just couldn’t bear it. He tried, sweet husband, but
I couldn’t blame him when he threw it away.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Guys, it was just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bad</i>.
Just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">awful</i>. Even now, two days later, I can still taste the bittery aftertaste in my mouth. The texture was fine, but it tasted very strong and bitter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Some times experiments go wrong in the kitchen. This was
one of those times.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But that’s okay. If you don’t try, how do you know it
won’t succeed? =)</div>
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<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791257181990955117noreply@blogger.com7