tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21436903773632977282024-03-13T12:52:35.723-07:00Huh? and other profound reactions to life...Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-40162881756113596512009-08-03T13:17:00.000-07:002009-08-03T14:06:56.630-07:00Summer in the Willamette ValleyOh how I love summer here in the Willamette Valley! The rain is miserable all year, but it does allow us the most amazing produce in July and August. Every year I take the kids and we pick berries, especially blueberries. I don't know what it is, but going is almost magical. The kids love it--they look forward to it--even now that Colin is 17. I think part of it is that we pick together with no technology whatsoever. We have blueberry wars, we eat til we are full and come home knowing that a little bit of summer will be saved in our freezer even after the sun disappears and the clouds set in.<br /><br />This year, my sister Jen and her family visited us, so we took them blueberry picking. I'm not sure if they felt the magic, but I know we had an incredible day.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SndQqy8xacI/AAAAAAAAANk/ebYbbOXZO3w/s1600-h/Blueberry+1+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365846177196632514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SndQqy8xacI/AAAAAAAAANk/ebYbbOXZO3w/s320/Blueberry+1+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SndRFlVXLFI/AAAAAAAAANs/ZRWOyQUIQQA/s1600-h/Blueberry+2+copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SndRFlVXLFI/AAAAAAAAANs/ZRWOyQUIQQA/s320/Blueberry+2+copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365846637398142034" /></a></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-53188857095020959202009-05-29T14:55:00.000-07:002009-05-29T15:13:24.058-07:00Lamest Mother Ever<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SiBd31SgK9I/AAAAAAAAANc/0f6MGryHfeE/s1600-h/IMG_2076.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SiBd31SgK9I/AAAAAAAAANc/0f6MGryHfeE/s320/IMG_2076.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341372371840281554" border="0" /></a><br />So, I blew it. Luckily I have a very understanding, loving daughter with a big heart. In Salem the schools do a drug prevention program with the 5th graders called DARE. They have a "graduation" hoopla, where the winners of a DARE essay contest are announced. Kendall is a really good writer and her teacher told her she was one of the top three in the class and that she should practice reading her essay. (*clue)<br /><br />I put the graduation on the calendar, and I told her that morning I would be there with my camera, and (you know what is coming) I completely spaced it. Completely! Not one trickle of an iota of memory entered my universe that afternoon as I was running various errands.<br /><br />When she walked in the door after school, I saw her carrying a giant Lion with a DARE T-shirt on, and around her neck was a medal. Yeah. She won the essay contest. I wasn't there. Augggggggh!!! I felt like the slug slime on the bottom of a work boot.<br /><br />I could tell she was disappointed, but she was so gracious to me. What a sweetie. So I grabbed her and took many pictures of "Darren" and Kendall and the medal. Here they are. Tell her good job if you see her, especially since her lame mom missed the ceremony.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-77784082541915301242009-05-06T17:44:00.000-07:002009-05-06T23:26:25.838-07:00I'll Always have my Boys (even when they're men)Just now I was stewing over a game of online Scrabble against my brother Ben (who always annihilates everyone, so I don't know why I even try), when my 19 1/2 year old man-child yells from the family room to his younger man-child brother in the bedroom: (say it out loud very quickly to achieve the proper effect)<br /><br />You have to give the cricket jam to Frogfucious and he'll give you 10 froggy points.<br /><br />Of course this completely fractured my Scrabble concentration skills, as I haven't heard him utter a phrase like that since the glory days of Pokemon and Bionicals. I started laughing and asked him to repeat it, which he happily did, and I still couldn't understand him. Finally, I made him say it very slowly so I could record it for your enjoyment. Do I undertsand it? No. But at least I see now that the phrase is made out of actual words (mostly).Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-27272815455218443282009-05-04T21:29:00.000-07:002009-05-04T22:43:30.700-07:00Jen the Guest Blogger Attacks!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_KIuDRxXI/AAAAAAAAANU/SVybOU-8lvk/s1600-h/IMG_2580.jpg"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_IQ2bEMmI/AAAAAAAAALc/v_TA-7n4lJE/s320/IMG_2523.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332200675642454626" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">[</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Sad attempt at a triple self-portrait, I'm truly enjoying the cutting off of my nostril in this picture. Becky looks lovely though and that is what matters!</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">]</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">***********************************</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Hello faithful readers of Huh! and other profound reactions to life!, this is Jennie doing a guest spot and I am here to rescue my big sistah's blog from dying a slow and painful death. If she feels unable to carry on, I am here to see her through the dark days of her digi-death and give her hope of rebirth! (I enjoyed that alliterative phrase -- "dark days of digi-death", I'll have to quote myself somewhere.) heh heh JK</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">My sister and her family made their somewhat annual trip to visit us over spring break and I have pictures to prove it! Since I have been given carte blanche to post on my sister's blog, I guess she will have to enjoy what I post and not complain about the quality of the pictures. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">***********************</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_IRS0HXLI/AAAAAAAAALs/e6mKY8ABtpg/s320/IMG_2538.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332200683263712434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_IRHyKsfI/AAAAAAAAALk/1doSBN7JBus/s320/IMG_2536.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332200680302752242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_I5-HwWYI/AAAAAAAAAM0/toR1Fn5OV5w/s1600-h/IMG_2589.jpg"></a></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Here are the girls hanging out at the park, doing their best to thwart my art shots.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">The one on the right is my daughter, Hannah.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">********************</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Now for toe-bonding. We did pedicures in my bathtub. Our toes were trés cute!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_In0Ec2II/AAAAAAAAAL8/bqW3evSTYvQ/s320/IMG_2544.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332201070147721346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_InwzN7UI/AAAAAAAAAME/66yoRWspFnA/s1600-h/IMG_2541.jpg"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_InwzN7UI/AAAAAAAAAME/66yoRWspFnA/s320/IMG_2541.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332201069270134082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_IRq2aJ1I/AAAAAAAAAL0/Efx1uZNnerc/s1600-h/IMG_2539.jpg"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_IRq2aJ1I/AAAAAAAAAL0/Efx1uZNnerc/s320/IMG_2539.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332200689715783506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">My seven year-old Curtis was offended that we didn't let him stay and paint his toes.</span></span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">**********************</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Kendall was a fishing machine! We took her to the lake by our house and she worked that pole like a pro. Now I can't remember if she caught one...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></span></div><div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_I5-HwWYI/AAAAAAAAAM0/toR1Fn5OV5w/s1600-h/IMG_2589.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_I5-HwWYI/AAAAAAAAAM0/toR1Fn5OV5w/s320/IMG_2589.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332201382083582338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">I guess it doesn't matter because she's obviously having a blast!</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_I5skQxSI/AAAAAAAAAMs/0-VEQPYzU-o/s1600-h/IMG_2587.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_I5skQxSI/AAAAAAAAAMs/0-VEQPYzU-o/s320/IMG_2587.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332201377371309346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Colin adopted my 4 year-old's Lightning McQueen fishing pole. He spent many devoted minutes trying to hit the ducks with the practice "wheel" on the end of the line.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_I5E1qDBI/AAAAAAAAAMk/22sMc9hlWO0/s1600-h/IMG_2582.jpg"></a><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_KIuDRxXI/AAAAAAAAANU/SVybOU-8lvk/s320/IMG_2580.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332202734979499378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Much cousin bonding occurred...here with cousin Zach who's Colin's age.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_IoTrN2WI/AAAAAAAAAMU/RRUzXZJoEgk/s1600-h/IMG_2569.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_IoTrN2WI/AAAAAAAAAMU/RRUzXZJoEgk/s320/IMG_2569.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332201078631815522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">And here with my youngest, Gideon. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_I5E1qDBI/AAAAAAAAAMk/22sMc9hlWO0/s320/IMG_2582.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332201366706850834" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><div><div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Colin arrived a day later than Becky and Kendall. It was, unfortunately the day Gid got sick with the stomach flu. When Kendall arrived Gid was happy and followed her around yelling, "Dadoo, Dadoo!" (her name in Gideonese). But he felt too yucky when Colin came, so he only wanted his mom. He cranked at Colin for several days, but Colin worked it until he got Gid to give him a kiss and call him "Dude".</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">*******************</span></div></div></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">We were nice enough to arrange for a scorpion to hang out in the bathtub so the Clawsons could experience some real Arizona wildlife. We are nothing if not thoughtful in this house</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/Sf_JBeNMwfI/AAAAAAAAAM8/kF742pAOnKU/s320/scorpion.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332201510955434482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px; " /></span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />The last few days of the trip were a huge bummer. Sunday night I spent the night in the bathroom with vomiting and diarrhea. When morning came, I heard Ren in the hall telling Becky about it and I heard her say, "Me and Kendall too." Dang! I spent all day in bed until I finally got the strength to hobble to Becky's room so I could at least bond with her in sickness. We laid in bed together and ordered gingerale and saltines. The kids told us that Gid was aware of what was going on and put together one of his first sentences. They'd ask him, "Gid, where's mommy?" and he'd reply, "Mommy a sleepin' a barfin'." Then they'd say, "Where's Kendall?" his sad reply, "A Dadoo a sleepin' a barfin'." Same for Becky. He walked the house telling one and all who was "a sleepin' and a barfin'". Good job Gid.<br /><br />The next day Becky and I felt well enough to lay out in the sun and eat our saltines and drink our gingerale. Note: you can get a lovely sunburn even if you are recovering from the stomach flu! Stu got the nasty crud that afternoon along with several other of my children. Colin, not to be a conformist, got a high fever and sore throat the day before they were supposed to leave. Lovely.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Then when they left, there were weather issues and Colin didn't get on his plane and had to spend the night with us and catch one in the morning. Becky, Stu and Kendall were on a different flight (they were using frequent flyer miles for Colin on another airline) and their plane out of San Fransisco got cancelled. They ended up driving home from SF! I don't remember all of the details now, but it was quite the adventure.<br /><br />Well, Becky, I guess I'll sign out for now. You can correct any misrepresentation in a follow-up post! Now I'll have to copy this whole post into my blog to give a report of my own. Good night everyone. This is Jen, the guest blogger, signing out.</span></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-33953341878119117132009-04-14T14:37:00.000-07:002009-04-14T14:39:35.118-07:00Oh brother...I'm not going to apologize anymore. You get what you get. No matter how much I want to be like my awesome sister Jen, I simply can't seem to be a consistent blog posting person. Please enjoy the new background--a springtime present to us all!!! (especially Jonah) :)Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-62924359280186582862008-12-25T23:39:00.000-08:002008-12-26T00:52:09.727-08:00Christmas Funnies :DI have many happy Christmas memories to share, but first I have to share a funny in the car on the way home from my parents before I forget it:<br /><br />Kendall was playing with her American Girl doll, Mia, and talking to her, having a great conversation. Kyle started teasing Kendall, saying, "Why are you talking to her, she's not even real, she's a doll." Kendall is old enough to know Mia isn't real, but she played along, saying, "She is too real, and she's not listening to you." Kyle responded, "Of course, she's not listening, she doesn't have real ears!" Kendall laughed and said "Uh, uh, not listening, not listening," and Kyle said, "No real ears!" and this went back and forth a few times, getting louder and louder, with more and more laughing. Finally, Kendall said, "Well you love that thing (his cell phone) and it's not real." Kyle, thinking he has the last laugh, said, "But the difference is, I KNOW it isn't real," to which Kendall responded, "Yeah, well if it's not real, why are you always talking to it?"<br /><br />Touche'<br /><br />Then, last night (Christmas Eve), our family sang Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer as part of our pre-Christmas festivities, complete with the "echo" part. Near the end, the "echo" can vary, so I was pleasantly surprised when we sang, "Used to laugh and call him names," and all the kids echoed in unison, "like Pinnochio!" We kept singing through to the last line, "you'll go down in history," where the kids yelled out the names of all sorts of historical figures--"like Columbus, like George Washington, like Joseph Smith,"--all answers I expected. What I didn't expect was the name that burst forth from the lips of my 7 year old niece--Pink Floyd!!! Apparently, she don't need no education when it comes to classic rock. :)<br /><br /><br /><br />Speaking of rock, my sweet 5-month old nephew provided us with some rock 'n' roll fashion and some Christmas entertainment while we opened presents.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SVSRzSvRKBI/AAAAAAAAAK8/Zf-9nanyJZI/s1600-h/Bow-Hawk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284008573201885202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SVSRzSvRKBI/AAAAAAAAAK8/Zf-9nanyJZI/s320/Bow-Hawk.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Here we have the BOW-HAWK!!!</span><br /></p><p align="center">Then we move on to...</p><br /><p align="center"></p><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SVSST6CGpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/FTmprYolPxs/s1600-h/Bow-Fro.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284009133505684562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SVSST6CGpFI/AAAAAAAAALE/FTmprYolPxs/s320/Bow-Fro.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">The BOW-FRO!!!</span> </p><p align="center">Having a baby around on Christmas really keeps things lively!<br /></p><div align="center"></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-70641221200924930112008-12-09T10:23:00.000-08:002008-12-09T11:02:28.987-08:00Mother Necessity<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">One Hairy Boy...<br /><br /></div></span><p align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></p><p align="center"></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST68lFz2wlI/AAAAAAAAAKM/UITBrO01-4U/s1600-h/Kyle+hairy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277863158725657170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST68lFz2wlI/AAAAAAAAAKM/UITBrO01-4U/s320/Kyle+hairy.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p align="center"><br />Plus one BYU Honor Code: </p><p align="center">"Men are expected to be clean shaven; beards are not acceptable. "</p><p align="center"><br /></p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST6-tjnAH9I/AAAAAAAAAKs/lQowXc1yZHU/s1600-h/canon+center+sign+better.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277865503187017682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST6-tjnAH9I/AAAAAAAAAKs/lQowXc1yZHU/s320/canon+center+sign+better.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST6_ADB98rI/AAAAAAAAAK0/y1LnFtyhMJ0/s1600-h/cannon+center+sign.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277865820859265714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST6_ADB98rI/AAAAAAAAAK0/y1LnFtyhMJ0/s320/cannon+center+sign.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Plus one persnickety Cannon Center Cafeteria worker: </div><div align="center">"Kyle--No Soup For You!!!" </div><div align="center">(denied dinner 3 times for being too facial hairy)<br /><br /><br /></div><p><br /></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST681ggPUxI/AAAAAAAAAKc/JmEvpI68vlA/s1600-h/logo.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277863440769045266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 203px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 67px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST681ggPUxI/AAAAAAAAAKc/JmEvpI68vlA/s320/logo.gif" border="0" /></a> </p><p align="center">Equals:<br /><br /></p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST69J1vvKyI/AAAAAAAAAKk/kBTympBWdDw/s1600-h/razor.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277863790068575010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 126px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/ST69J1vvKyI/AAAAAAAAAKk/kBTympBWdDw/s320/razor.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><br />One very practical birthday present!!! Happy Birthday Kyle. :)<br /><br /></p>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-23366132990316885282008-12-08T23:20:00.000-08:002008-12-09T08:32:42.667-08:00Catching up with Mr. MischieviousColin has always been, and always will be, a big tease. He comes by it genetically through his y chromosome, and no matter how much I try to inflict civility on him, family togetherness always ends up with his sister screaming and tattling, and him trying to look innocent, and perhaps even injured--until now!<br /><br />I've noticed that since Kendall had her 11th birthday, she is starting to beat Colin at his own game. She still falls for the occasional "fib"--No, Kendall. Eggnog is not made from rotten eggs even if Colin said so...<br /><br />But more often than not, she is successfully ignoring his shenanigans (that's my word of the month, along with dither). Sunday, Colin made a whole bunch of Taquitos for lunch--I believe there were enough for each of us to have 4. When they were finished, he announced to us that we should eat. Kendall wasn't in the mood. This drove him crazy, because he doesn't like anyone else to still be eating their yummy food once his is gone, lest he feel taunted by their continued eating enjoyment. So, he kept bugging Kendall to eat them, and threatening her that he was going to eat them if she didn't, and offering them to me to eat, but to no avail! She simply refused to react to Colin. "Soon," she kept saying. "I'll eat them soon."<br /><br />Colin's attempts got ever more desperate until I heard Colin call from the kitchen, "Kendall, come look at your Taquitos," which weren't there because he had hidden them. Not real savvy for a 16 year old, but I guess he was feeling a bit off-kilter. She glanced over and noticed they weren't there, and DID NOTHING!!! No tattling, no screaming, no begging or chasing Colin around. She simply said "oh" and looked back at the computer screen. Colin stood there, completely befuddled.<br /><br />Finally, about 10 minutes later he flat out told her that he hid her Taquitos in the bathroom, and maybe she should go find them. It's kind of like telling the punchline to a joke--the whole point kind of dies a slow painful death. The real joke, though, was when Kendall finally went down to the bathroom to get her lunch, she wasn't greeted by her Jose Ole Chicken and Cheese Taquitos wrapped in flour tortillas. Instead, she was greeted by Peanut as he tore out of the bathroom, fat and happy from the taquito lunch he just enjoyed thanks to the politics of a couple of silly kids on a Sunday afternoon!Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-89783882625159091792008-11-10T10:12:00.000-08:002008-11-10T10:29:40.321-08:00Flat Stanley and Gimpy YogaFor those of you who have heard of Flat Stanley, I offer a new version: Gimpy Gertie. Gertie's travels are a bit limited, but fun nonetheless.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRh7kPxcMUI/AAAAAAAAAI0/u-KO1R4B5o8/s1600-h/Gimpy+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267095626849202498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRh7kPxcMUI/AAAAAAAAAI0/u-KO1R4B5o8/s320/Gimpy+1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here I took Gertie on a field trip to the hospital and home again. "Oh, look Gertie! Many trees. That is because we live in Oregon." Gertie likes trees.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRh8Ah1A-MI/AAAAAAAAAI8/rwSc3_0pT30/s1600-h/Gimpy+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267096112732371138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRh8Ah1A-MI/AAAAAAAAAI8/rwSc3_0pT30/s320/Gimpy+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I gave Gertie the premier TV-watching spot on the couch. Ooh, ahh. It's a good thing Gertie likes TV--she has watched a lot in 3 weeks. "Cash cab can be very deep," she said.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRh80agVu5I/AAAAAAAAAJE/mMCrheDRZHk/s1600-h/Gimpy+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267097004119800722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRh80agVu5I/AAAAAAAAAJE/mMCrheDRZHk/s320/Gimpy+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />A rare snapshot into Gimpy Yoga. We were one with the universe, or at least with the Suburban. You should be especially impressed that I am so one with the universe that I don't even have makeup on and have just emerged from anaesthesia and I will STILL post this for all to see! :)Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-21061636297859478052008-11-06T20:11:00.001-08:002008-11-10T14:15:00.963-08:00Evolution of the Jumping CouchIf you haven't already, please read the previous post on "The Jumping Couch." These are supplemental photos to detail parts of its evolution. Enjoy!<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPAZT175SI/AAAAAAAAAHs/u2kVF8X4GxQ/s1600-h/PonyBooties2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265763930382001442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPAZT175SI/AAAAAAAAAHs/u2kVF8X4GxQ/s320/PonyBooties2.jpg" border="0" /></a> Birthday girl and friends at her Pony Birthday Party--2001.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPAkP21BmI/AAAAAAAAAH0/hXPw-j1bsKU/s1600-h/ScarecrowLove.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265764118290564706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPAkP21BmI/AAAAAAAAAH0/hXPw-j1bsKU/s320/ScarecrowLove.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Scarecrow Love--notice the newly covered couch cushions, but the faded base cover.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPBsrlw49I/AAAAAAAAAH8/Zkt4Q8whjRM/s1600-h/Halfdonecouch.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265765362685764562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPBsrlw49I/AAAAAAAAAH8/Zkt4Q8whjRM/s320/Halfdonecouch.jpg" border="0" /></a>Here you see the lovely slipcovered cushions and the nasty uncovered base--recovering in progress.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPCmAjeL0I/AAAAAAAAAIE/rY2LjikJN8o/s1600-h/ColinCouch.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265766347565838146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPCmAjeL0I/AAAAAAAAAIE/rY2LjikJN8o/s320/ColinCouch.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />More beautiful cushions and faded arms--but Colin's pretty cute!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPDy5jmH6I/AAAAAAAAAIM/isyp4gyR9GQ/s1600-h/IMG_1742.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265767668537237410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPDy5jmH6I/AAAAAAAAAIM/isyp4gyR9GQ/s320/IMG_1742.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Colin--older, wiser, and still cute! Couch--much more faded.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPETaZ-2SI/AAAAAAAAAIU/AsDtuf0BKIc/s1600-h/IMG_1726.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265768227111098658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRPETaZ-2SI/AAAAAAAAAIU/AsDtuf0BKIc/s320/IMG_1726.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />From ponies to high fashion--Kendall still likes to pose with her friends.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRioSK2rIkI/AAAAAAAAAJM/HcaZfICCkf0/s1600-h/Slumber+Party.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267144794314580546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRioSK2rIkI/AAAAAAAAAJM/HcaZfICCkf0/s320/Slumber+Party.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />And Preeeeeeesenting--the full potenial of the couch in all its glory.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-83138712007852130352008-11-06T15:05:00.000-08:002008-11-06T15:40:36.023-08:00The Jumping Couch<div>I've been reading my friend Heidi's hilarious blog and <a href="http://www.franticallysimple.com/2008/10/28/a-trick-and-a-treat/#comment-1625">THIS</a> post about the need for creepy houses in the lives of children inspired the following comment from me. As I re-read it before posting (must check for those offensive little spelling errors), I realized the profound truth my words conveyed, so I post them here to enlighten your lives (perhaps with a tad bit of embellishing).</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This is exactly why I don’t like living in the suburbs. Everything is too clean and shiny and perfect. Childhood just doesn’t thrive in the suburbs. Where's the adventure? The ability to build secret forts in abandoned places, to find priceless treasures hiding in the alleys, to take your friends to elaborate worlds you've created in your backyard "forest?" This is why I ocassionally allow messiness in my house–spookiness can be found in my junk room, and endless crafts come from the stuff that is piled on counters. In our family room, we lounge on a Clawson family fixture, the "jumping couch"--a 20 year-old sectional inherited from my parents that I have personally slip-covered with denim 3 times in 12 years. Elaborate games of tag could be played on the "jumping couch," while my kids and their friends got out the rainy day wiggles (we have a lot of those in Oregon). Huge forts have graced my house over the years, built with the 13 cushions lounging on that couch. Monstrous pillow slide competitions were held on our flight of stairs, also using those marvelous cushions. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Now that my kids are older, the couch seems a little more tattered. The denim is worn thin where bodies have the most contact. The springs kind of hang out the bottom in some places and my dad can't get out of it without help because the seats are so saggy. Still, I can't imagine ever getting rid of it, and at least one of my children wants to inherit it when I "die" (hahaha). Although I don't want to admit it, grandchildren will be running around my house in not too many years. More than likely they will live in the suburbs. Life will probably be harder for them than for their parents in this ever unstable time, but when they visit grandma and grandpa, they will always have the jumping couch, and everything will be right with the world.<a href="http://www.franticallysimple.com/2008/10/28/a-trick-and-a-treat/#comment-1625"></a></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRN-4SjjLHI/AAAAAAAAAHk/NNH6tLRPPL4/s1600-h/IMG_1641.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265691894844959858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRN-4SjjLHI/AAAAAAAAAHk/NNH6tLRPPL4/s320/IMG_1641.JPG" border="0" /></a>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-27130308211439694992008-11-06T14:22:00.000-08:002008-11-06T14:40:27.997-08:00If I Were Living a Seinfeld Episode...the following experience might become ugly. You see, I've been catching up on my blog reading. As you might notice, my sister Jennie's blog, "My Life is a Sitcom", is the number 1 choice on my blogroll. I used to be number 1 on hers too, but moments ago, I discovered that I've fallen from #1 to #15--that's right--FIFTEEN! That's a hard one to swallow.<br /><br />If I were Elaine, I might do any number of things: suck up in various ways to move up the heirarchy, break up with her, do a totally embarrassing dance. But I am going to be a bigger person than that. I am going to take a harsh look at myself, accepting the consequences for being an infrequent blogger. I am going to realize that my life is boring, and my daily activities are simply not that funny or entertaining. I am going to acknowledge that after all our years of being related, she might still harbor ill-will for me because I cut all the animals off the mobile hanging over her crib in a fit of 3 year old rebellion. I am NOT going to take offense that this might be revenge for telling her that she "has the same ugly nose as me" in high school. I am going to post multiple, highly-entertaining posts today to show her what she's missing. Neener, neener, neener. 8-P<br /><br />See, look at the integrity I can muster for myself if I only try. Look at how I look to our forefathers, like Abraham Lincoln and Jerry Seinfeld, for inspiration and guidance. Look how I can yearn for all of you to be more like me in every way--good, and hardworking, and slow to take offense. If you want someone to truly lead you--look no further than Becky Clawson. Give me Liberty or Give Me Death! Ask not what you can do for your country... Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh, what a relief it is. Becky Clawson for President!!!<br /><br />O'er the Land of the Free...and the Home of the Brave.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-73059140053274191232008-11-06T13:13:00.000-08:002008-11-06T13:33:08.536-08:00There's nothing better...<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNgwWyeBII/AAAAAAAAAHM/sjHhCvt_Vqg/s1600-h/IMG00548.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265658773193491586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNgwWyeBII/AAAAAAAAAHM/sjHhCvt_Vqg/s320/IMG00548.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>than October in Oregon!!! And I mean that sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, as I sit here on November 5th watching the wind and the rain, and listening to reports of flood warnings on the news. Just before my surgery, we enjoyed a trip to Bauman Farms outside of Salem. What a Heavenly Day: vibrant colors everywhere, perfect 70 degree weather, fresh "squeezed-as-you-watch" apple cider and hot apple cider donuts. I'm sure this is why the Pilgrims planned Thanksgiving. I think Fall in the northeast looks a lot like Fall here, and if so, I would have planned a feast too. Such bounty deserves a holiday all to itself! </div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNgE97kOuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/6ZewYgfphBE/s1600-h/IMG00579.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265658027786386146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNgE97kOuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/6ZewYgfphBE/s320/IMG00579.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNgPukPnrI/AAAAAAAAAHE/8EIkBQV5L5Y/s1600-h/IMG00547.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265658212640595634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNgPukPnrI/AAAAAAAAAHE/8EIkBQV5L5Y/s320/IMG00547.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNhAMLEYuI/AAAAAAAAAHU/gfToOtOMdm0/s1600-h/IMG00549.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265659045221786338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNhAMLEYuI/AAAAAAAAAHU/gfToOtOMdm0/s320/IMG00549.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNhQQeAmuI/AAAAAAAAAHc/CEy1-h9koEc/s1600-h/IMG00559.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265659321252879074" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SRNhQQeAmuI/AAAAAAAAAHc/CEy1-h9koEc/s320/IMG00559.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-6828421498494443242008-10-28T10:24:00.000-07:002008-11-06T13:54:24.693-08:00Nirvana (or, And There was Joy in the Land)My sister challenged her kids to write blog entries about what Thanksgiving would be like if the Pilgrims had landed in their state (Arizona). Unless they were on a spaceship, I don't think landing in Arizona would have been an option, but I suppose that is part of the charm of this exercise. LOL So, without further adieu, If the Pilgrims had Landed in Oregon...<br /><br /><br /><br />Somewhere, in a solid, wooden ship out on the Pacific Ocean, a group of weary travelers spyed land. "Look, we spy land," they said. Disembarking, they traveled inland and came upon a beautiful valley. "Look, a beautiful valley," they said.<br /><br /><br /><br />And, indeed, it was a beautiful valley, green and lush, full of berries and fruits and nuts of all kinds. Seriously. There were lovely spotted owls in all the trees and hordes of salmon in the streams. There was also an abundance of a new creature, the opossum, that they particularly enjoyed, because of the ease in capturing it. It simply threw itself under the wheels of their wagons, offering itself up for their dinner. These pilgrims brought all sorts of supplies with them, but the supplies were unnecessary because of the abundance in the valley. They thought they had found Nirvana. "We have found Nirvana," they said. And there was joy in the land.<br /><br /><br /><br />As fall came, these pilgrims decided to prepare for the winter by building sturdy shelters. Everywhere they looked, they saw giant pine trees, just waiting to be fashioned into little cabins. So many were the trees, that they rejoiced again, because they could chop the trees down willy nilly, and there would still an infinite number of trees left. "We are happy for the abundance of trees," they said, "because even if we chop down trees willy nilly to build to our hearts desire, there will still be trees left for hugging." Hugging trees was very important to these early settlers of Oregon.<br /><br /><br /><br />The landscape turned from greens to magnificent reds and golds, the sun shone brightly, and the days dawned perfectly--not too hot and not too cold. And the pilgrims thought this Nirvana was even more perfect than they thought before. "This nirvana rocks," they said. And there was joy in the land--so much joy, that the pilgrims planned a great Thanksgiving feast for one month hence (or the 3rd Thursday in November, or sometimes the 4th Thursday, but that makes for a real bummer of a Christmas shopping season). They were absolutely giddy with the beauty, and the bounty, and the perfect weather, and their cute little cabins, and all the trees for hugging. But they were the most giddy when they thought of the alluring aroma of Roast Possum, golden and juicy, their choice for the grand Thanksgiving feast.<br /><br /><br /><br />Alas, November 1st brought an unusual site--dark clouds rolled across the valley and rain drenched all the aforementioned things they were giddy about. "It's okay," they said, "we must needs have a little rain to maintain our Nirvana." On day two of rain they said this, and day 5 and day 14 and day 21. But by day 23, the day before their feast, the horrible truth set in. Especially as they noticed the moss covering their beloved trees and the mold overgrowing their little cabins. The worst, however, had to be the nasty aroma of soaking wet, mangy possum fur. The stench became even more worrisome as possoms lay rotting in the roads. You see, the ease of capturing possums, which was once a blessing, became a curse as no one cared to partake of stinky, mangy, decomposing, moss and mold-covered possum. "There goes Thanksgiving dinner," they lamented. Needless to say, the feast did not go as well as was once hoped.<br /><br />Never fear, however. These pioneers had hardiness bred into their bones. A plan was quickly hatched for the next year. "We will say nothing of this disaster," they decided. "Instead, we will invent the word, 'Snowbird.' We will live in Oregon during the months of Nirvana, finishing up the season with lavish Oktoberfest celebrations (which we will hold in September), then we will flee to Arizona. We hear they have a lovely celebration complete with roasted cactus paddles, crickets and scorpions and dead rattlesnakes hanging from the branches of the Ocotillo bushes."<br />Go here for details: <a href="http://jenslifeisasitcom.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2008-10-25T16%3A47%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=7">http://jenslifeisasitcom.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2008-10-25T16%3A47%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=7</a> <br />This plan quickly gained popularity, causing exhuberantly frenzied excitement! "Yay," they said.<br /><br />And there was joy in the land.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-30495095571817927812008-10-14T11:38:00.000-07:002008-10-14T11:47:47.725-07:00Say It 3 Times Fast...<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SPToQuWZuPI/AAAAAAAAAG0/h_tgFSXoG8E/s1600-h/Bunion.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257082039065753842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SPToQuWZuPI/AAAAAAAAAG0/h_tgFSXoG8E/s320/Bunion.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;">BUNION, BUNION, BUNION! Sounds funnier than it really is, but they say (I'm not sure who, just the cosmic "they"), that laughter is the best medicine, so I'm going to keep on repeating this mantra for the next couple weeks. A little incense, a few "ohms", and I'll be good to go. (bunion, bunion, bunion) 2 days til surgery, so instead of running around madly, cleaning and organizing, I thought I'd post on my blog. The art of avoidance is a beautiful thing. I found a picture of my little problem to share with you. Actually, I found much grosser pictures on Google Images, but they make me feel a little queasy, and I didn't think they'd match the decor, so this will do. If you're one of those weird medical types, feel free to investigate for yourself--there's plenty of deformity, and blood, and "eww"iness to satisfy even the most surgical palate. As for me...I'm off to my laundry and grocery shopping and fridge cleaning...bunion, bunion, bunion.</span></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-63812191617484089252008-10-01T13:16:00.000-07:002008-10-01T13:46:39.204-07:00Fame!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SOPgLZFz8KI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_pCRcjTLdSo/s1600-h/Beijing+sign.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252288076762575010" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SOPgLZFz8KI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_pCRcjTLdSo/s320/Beijing+sign.jpg" border="0" /></a> Now that life has slowed down a bit, I thought I'd play a little catch up from summer. Prepare to be dazzled! Prepare to be amazed! Just don't prepare to see any of this in chronological order. Kyle went with the South Salem High School Wind Ensemble to play at the Olympics. While there, he was briefly interviewed for KGW TV in Portland. Check it out!<br /><br />{{{<a href="http://www.kgw.com/video/video-index.html?nvid=273766&shu=1">KYLE'S BIG INTERVIEW</a>}}}Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-57847660639244150312008-09-30T23:18:00.001-07:002008-09-30T23:27:02.349-07:00My Technological Clock is Ticking...My computer clock says that the time is 11:18 p.m. on September 30. If I hurry, I can actually have 3 posts for September, which is the most I've had in a month in a very long time. So, I figure if I have 3 posts, maybe people will come back and read again, and I won't be the "lame blogger friend." Of course, many may feel I am just crying "wolf" and that October will be another disappointment. Never fear! I am having surgery on my foot in 2 weeks, so I will have a lot of downtime and plenty of awkwardness in my life to warrant a few posts. Just the fact that the name of my surgery is "Bunionectomy" is enough to provide at least a week's worth of material.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-39283927393223343722008-09-29T22:33:00.000-07:002008-09-29T22:39:24.235-07:00Digiscrappin' with Beck<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SOG7ehstpuI/AAAAAAAAAF8/U7J4pakxt-U/s1600-h/Cadence.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251684773607089890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SOG7ehstpuI/AAAAAAAAAF8/U7J4pakxt-U/s320/Cadence.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SOG7e5rJMtI/AAAAAAAAAGE/0wfZHDgXN5Q/s1600-h/Angel+Wesley.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251684780042957522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SOG7e5rJMtI/AAAAAAAAAGE/0wfZHDgXN5Q/s320/Angel+Wesley.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>It's been almost a year since I did any digital scrapbooking, partly because Peanut (our daschund) chewed through my laptop cord 7 months ago. I finally found a good deal on a new cord, so this week I decided to do a little scrappin'. Thanks to Jofia designs at The Shabby Pickle for making such great stuff to play with!</div><br /><div></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-19742626632969780282008-09-13T17:00:00.000-07:002008-09-13T17:47:09.089-07:00All the World's a StageBeing a mother of teenagers, and a woman who does a lot of work with teenage girls, I decided to enter the world of Facebook. Besides making me feel very "cool" (hip...phat...whatever), I can keep track of all the young people in my life. They don't seem to mind, either. My son Kyle is the one who sent me the invitation to have my own "Facebook." I have 77 friends, many of whom actively send me Flair, Poke me in many different ways, and invite me to beat their score on the "Hardest Disney Quiz Ever." <br /><br />Last week, however, I realized that I will never fully embrace Facebook, the way my younger "friends" do. I logged onto my profile and discovered that my son Kyle had written on my wall, or left a message, for all the world to see. About a week before this post, we dropped Kyle off at BYU to start his Freshman year, and of course, we had to shop at Wal-mart to get him the necessities of life before we abandoned him. Several days later this post shows up on my Facebook page: "you left some tampons in the bag from wal-mart. I don't know what to do"<br /><br />Bwahahaha!!! I still chuckle when I think about it. We are a modern family with many means of communication available to us. We have a family cell phone plan which allows Kyle to call home on the regular phone or on my cell phone. We have unlimited texting, so he can shoot off a text any time of night or day. His Macbook has ethernet, so any email he might choose to send would arrive in 2.3 seconds. But NOOOOOO! My son posts a question about what to do with the tampons in his room on the front page of my FACEBOOK!!! <br /><br />That's okay. I can roll with it. I'm flexible. I just posted this response:<br />And you chose to post this on FACEBOOK for all the world to see!!!???!? Bwahahahaha--Kyle, you are, indeed, random! Well, I'm not going to teach you how to use them, so I suggest you give them away or throw them away. Or decorate your room--no--just throw them away.<br /><br />To which he responds:<br />Hmm. Ok. I think I can handle that. I could attack someones room with it.<br /><br />My sister Sherrie and my friend Kirstin got in on the action:<br /><br />Kyle... I am sooooo proud that you know what a TAMPON is! You're future wife will love you (cause you'll know what to look for when she sends you out to buy them). Have fun decorating your room. :D<br /><br />Kyle...as per your comment on your Mom's facebook...I'd suggest keeping them and using them for any nose bleeds you or anyone you know might have. If that doesn't work...soak 'em in water and throw them at people! HAHAHAAAA... <br /><br />One of the younger people in my life even suggested that he soak the tips in water, at which point they "bloom" into flowers, providing him a lovely bouquet for any occasion. <br /><br />I don't know what he did with them, but I'm glad I'm old enough that very little embarrasses me anymore.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-20029281863305387462008-08-19T13:51:00.001-07:002008-09-01T23:07:44.158-07:00My Awesome Nephew Jonah<p>My nephew has a very cool blog, and he challenged people to write a little essay in Webdings. Here is what his looks like:</p><p><br /><span style="font-family:webdings;">My favorite thing about summer is that you can swim all day and you dont have to go to school. My least favorite thing about summer is that you are so hot and the annoying buzz of the cicadas makes you crack up. The bug I hate the most is the killer bee, no contest. MY favorite letter in the alphabet is the letter x because you have to pronounce it differently when it's in different spots. My worst night mare was when I dreamed I got eaten by a shark in my own pool.</span></p><span style="font-family:webdings;"><p><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">But when you put it into Word and change the font, this is what it says:</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><br />My favorite thing about summer is that you can swim all day and you dont have to go to school. My least favorite thing about summer is that you are so hot and the annoying buzz of the cicadas makes you crack up. The bug I hate the most is the killer bee, no contest. MY favorite letter in the alphabet is the letter x because you have to pronounce it differently when it's in different spots. My worst night mare was when I dreamed I got eaten by a shark in my own pool. </span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><br />So, Jonah, I'm taking your challenge. Here is my little essay:</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family:webdings;">Okay Jonah—here I go. My favorite thing about summer is feeling the SUN on my face. It runs away from Oregon at least 6 months out of the year. The thing I like least is when my kids get bored and whiny. The bug I hate the most is the earwig. The movie Star Trek: The Wrath of Kahn makes that fear even worse. My favorite letter is B because it feels so great exploding out of my mouth, and my name starts with B, and the B book was my favorite as a kid. My worst nightmare is going to teach one of my college classes and I am naked and can’t remember the material. Or, I am a student and I have to take the final of a class I never remembered to go to all semester. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Webdings;"></span> </p><p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">If anyone else wants to take Jonah's challenge, let him know you did. His blog is:</span></p><p><a href="http://bloggernamejonah.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">http://bloggernamejonah.blogspot.com/</span></a></p></span>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-4962791291402448782008-08-19T08:32:00.000-07:002008-08-19T09:08:44.694-07:00Life Always Gets in the WayI'm realizing that I've neglected this blog way more than the usual neglect. It's not my fault, really. Sometimes I just don't have anything exciting happening in my life. (Peanut's latest foray into eating poop simply does not a blog post make) <br /> So, imagine my excitement when I realized my summer was jam-packed with entertaining, blog-worthy events: a week in Sunriver, a week at Girl's Camp, a son traveling to Beijing for the Olympics, the sun showing its face in Salem, Oregon. I'm feeling giddy even now, reliving the giddiness of it all (giddy, giddy, giddy).<br /> One small little factoid escaped my attention, however, with all those endorphins mixing with adrenaline and seratonin (now there's a high you can take to the bank), when you are busy LIVING life, you don't exactly have the time or the inclination to be BLOGGING life--at least I don't. Maybe that's what fall is for--kids go back to school, life slows down a bit during the day, and I write my "What I Did Last Summer" essay. <br /> In the meantime, here are a few photographic highlights to serve as teasers of posts to come.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SKrrGuOS5JI/AAAAAAAAAFU/6qylYnWIZcM/s1600-h/IMG_1494_1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SKrrGuOS5JI/AAAAAAAAAFU/6qylYnWIZcM/s320/IMG_1494_1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236256017491354770" /></a><br />My diplomatic summit with the Ambassadors of Philomath and Falls City<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SKrsoeEKVAI/AAAAAAAAAFc/zQWl--EUqiw/s1600-h/IMG_1545.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SKrsoeEKVAI/AAAAAAAAAFc/zQWl--EUqiw/s320/IMG_1545.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236257696781063170" /></a><br />At a Charity Benefit for "Homeless Heroes on Hootch"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SKrvZyJYlsI/AAAAAAAAAFk/EmHFR_kZyrM/s1600-h/IMG_1146.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SKrvZyJYlsI/AAAAAAAAAFk/EmHFR_kZyrM/s320/IMG_1146.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236260743008523970" /></a><br />Kyle wondering if the Great Wall of China were to fall down, and there was no one there to hear it, would it make a noise?Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-11453823342986140702008-06-18T15:21:00.001-07:002008-06-18T15:21:52.217-07:00Clawson Look-alike Meter<a href="http://www.myheritage.com/meter" title="Click to get your own Look-alike Meter" alt="Click to get your own Look-alike Meter" target="_blank"><img src="http://storage.myheritagefiles.com/L/storage/site1/files/82/65/72/826572_83216927a895846jktq388.JPG" width="435" height="470" border="0" ></a><p><a href="http://www.myheritage.com" >MyHeritage</a>: <a href="http://www.myheritage.com" >Family tree</a> - <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/genealogy" >Genealogy</a> - <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/celebrities" >Celeb</a> - <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/celebrity-collage" >Collage</a> - <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/celebrity-morph" >Morph</a><img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/bHQ9MTIxMzgyNzY5MzI3NSZwdD*xMjEzODI3NzAyNDMxJnA9MTEwNTcxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTI=.jpg" />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-5005409715296402722008-06-18T14:42:00.001-07:002008-06-18T14:42:05.044-07:00Clawson Look-alike Meter<a href="http://www.myheritage.com/meter" title="Click to get your own Look-alike Meter" alt="Click to get your own Look-alike Meter" target="_blank"><img src="http://storage.myheritagefiles.com/N/storage/site1/files/82/08/22/820822_94565011189584xur81668.JPG" width="435" height="470" border="0" ></a><p><a href="http://www.myheritage.com" >MyHeritage</a>: <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/meter" >Look-alike Meter</a> - <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/page/roots" >Roots</a> - <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/page/family-history" >Family history</a><img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/bHQ9MTIxMzgyNTMwODkyMSZwdD*xMjEzODI1MzE5NjU2JnA9MTEwNTcxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTI=.jpg" />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-16540234494116185982008-06-18T14:04:00.000-07:002008-12-09T18:32:35.496-08:00Gra--gee--ay--shun<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl8KNVHaqI/AAAAAAAAADU/h7_wW2eeY0U/s1600-h/Kyle%27s+Graduation+022.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl8KNVHaqI/AAAAAAAAADU/h7_wW2eeY0U/s320/Kyle%27s+Graduation+022.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213334558476823202" /></a><br />Yup. It happened. The eldest yungun up and grageeated on us. Now who's gonna slop dem hogs? Ya just get 'em big enuf to hep out and they up an' runn oft on ya! (that's R-U-N-N-O-F-T for you Oh Brother, Where art thou? fans)<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl8is_aHEI/AAAAAAAAADc/f5H2QfjQQMk/s1600-h/Kyle%27s+Graduation+026.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl8is_aHEI/AAAAAAAAADc/f5H2QfjQQMk/s320/Kyle%27s+Graduation+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213334979292568642" /></a><br />Notice Kyle and 3 girls.<br /><br /><br />Okay, okay--no hogs around here. But, our boy Kyle did it--and he did it right! We couldn't be prouder--National Honor Society, 2 Prestigious Band Awards, a Scholar Athlete award, and more doo-dads hanging around the neck of his gown than I would know what to do with (each representing some activity or honor) He's worked really hard, and I'm so glad to see him rewarded for his efforts.<br /><br />I didn't cry at graduation. I got that all out at the last band concert, but Stuart and I did help chaperone the All Night Grad Party. Kyle won 2 pairs of boxers (Homer Simpson and Lips), a photo album, and a $20 gift card to Target. I dealt Blackjack and won nothing. Stuart acted as Security be standing by the Fire Exit for 4 hours (probably sleeping with his eyes open) and arrested nobody, but he did hold the door for a parent emptying the garbage. It was great fun to spy on the seniors, including my kid, but staying up all night is best left to 18 year olds (I was a complete waste of a human being for 2 days after that). <br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl9Kd_SsaI/AAAAAAAAADk/18WLi2hJPew/s1600-h/Kyle%27s+Graduation+080.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl9Kd_SsaI/AAAAAAAAADk/18WLi2hJPew/s320/Kyle%27s+Graduation+080.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213335662460318114" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl9r7ZD0zI/AAAAAAAAADs/d5071P8MmKg/s1600-h/Kyle%27s+Graduation+090.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl9r7ZD0zI/AAAAAAAAADs/d5071P8MmKg/s320/Kyle%27s+Graduation+090.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213336237288706866" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl-HZ6_QfI/AAAAAAAAAD0/f9eDBN0mp1Q/s1600-h/Kyle%27s+Graduation+092.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl-HZ6_QfI/AAAAAAAAAD0/f9eDBN0mp1Q/s320/Kyle%27s+Graduation+092.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213336709340545522" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl-jnzaWOI/AAAAAAAAAD8/SaZ84gIoVKA/s1600-h/Kyle%27s+Graduation+093.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jNz4m8P8B0Q/SFl-jnzaWOI/AAAAAAAAAD8/SaZ84gIoVKA/s320/Kyle%27s+Graduation+093.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213337194103199970" /></a><br />All in all, we survived without too much trauma. The end.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143690377363297728.post-10950892173055028632008-06-09T10:22:00.000-07:002008-06-09T10:23:45.610-07:00A Non-Crappy Congratulations Card<object id="A9281852498171799552" quality="high" data="http://llnw.jibjab.com/content/player.swf?content_url=http://www.jibjab.com/sendables/api/remote/c25GlnoAk6DN6inM9FZOId4y.xml" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="369" width="435"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="movie" value="http://llnw.jibjab.com/content/player.swf"></param><param name="scaleMode" value="showAll"></param><param name="quality" value="high"></param><param name="allowNetworking" value="all"></param><param name="FlashVars" value="content_url=http://www.jibjab.com/sendables/api/remote/c25GlnoAk6DN6inM9FZOId4y.xml"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="never"></param></object><div style="text-align:center; width:435px; margin-top:6px;"><br />Don't send a lame <a href="http://www.jibjab.com/sendables/category/14/congrats">Congrats eCard</a>. <br />Try <a href="http://www.jibjab.com/sendables">JibJab Sendables</a>!</div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06955480989492354675noreply@blogger.com6