tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-209985262024-03-07T20:06:31.422-07:00Random Letters~letters to everyone, anyone and no one~Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-63771994077767561582010-04-08T02:23:00.000-06:002010-04-08T02:23:00.109-06:00Dear Kate,<span style="font-size: x-large;">10!!! </span> Double Digits Baby! Wowzers that went by in a flash! You are so special to me for soooo many reasons. You are my oldest and that means you were my first. What an amazing experience it was to bring you into this world and to be able to watch you grow these past ten years. Giving birth to you was one of the most amazing moments of my life and I will never forget it. You were so, so, so tiny: 5lbs 6oz. My brain can't comprehend how tiny that is anymore. I just know that someone told me your head was about the size of a grapefruit. Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't the size of a grapefruit. It didn't matter. You were perfect to me and you still are. I love you and am looking forward to all the years ahead!<br />
Love,<br />
MomRochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-15367534484702007332010-03-08T10:52:00.000-07:002010-03-08T10:52:45.282-07:00Dear Spring,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-piZlCrilUfKcSkdj-o4-OYf3tPaapEgp3MJhu2rxQA9tEdqLj6loP9xlJzrbD_-QCXIqVoG9UPDnQwKxvoO134hoCxZE4fISLNDir5i2iDHP7-eBG_yg7HyYhW1aHc3UHIg9A/s1600-h/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-piZlCrilUfKcSkdj-o4-OYf3tPaapEgp3MJhu2rxQA9tEdqLj6loP9xlJzrbD_-QCXIqVoG9UPDnQwKxvoO134hoCxZE4fISLNDir5i2iDHP7-eBG_yg7HyYhW1aHc3UHIg9A/s320/011.JPG" /></a></div>When will you be here? I am ready. I am sick of looking at the inside of my house. I am ready to dig in the dirt. I am ready to get some sun. Please hurry. I miss you.Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-68574059863791676472010-02-23T13:02:00.000-07:002010-02-23T13:02:32.575-07:00To The American Academy of Pediatrics,Warning labels on food for choking? You're kidding right? <br />
When I read <a href="http://www.heraldsun.com/pages/full_story/push?article-Pediatricians+urge+choking+warning+labels+for+food%20&id=6425030#comments_6425030">this article</a> about choking and food labels, I knew it would be perfect for <a href="http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/">Free Rangers</a>!<br />
The conclusion that I have come to is that you, the American Academy of Pediatrics, must think parents are morons.<br />
Morons.<br />
I admit I have seen some parents who would certainly fit the bill but most of us out there are not morons. I marvel at the advances in science and medicine, modern technology and the fact that we can shoot human beings into space. But now we are being told we need food companies labeling certain items that may be a choking hazard? Please.<br />
Isn’t anything you put in your mouth, or in this case your child’s mouth, a choking hazard? It seems we live in a society where someone or something is always to blame when accidents do happen. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure is one of my favorite sayings but no matter how hard you try, some things just can’t be prevented. I think we just need to chill out a little.<br />
Almost two years ago a friend from my hometown lost her<br />
baby (she was almost two) to a choking accident. The baby was eating a very small piece of cut up apple (without the peel) and she choked and died a short time later. The Mothers grief was painful to say the least. I have cried as I’ve read her struggles and feelings on her blog. Did she start a campaign to ban apples or have them labeled as dangerous? No. She turned something that was very tragic into something positive by starting a website and support group to help other mothers and families who have lost a child regardless of the circumstances. I admire her for her courage and honesty.<br />
My point to this story is that sometimes no matter how careful and cautious you are as a parent, accidents do happen and they are just that: accidents.Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-66169400072762887822010-02-20T11:14:00.007-07:002010-02-20T11:25:47.298-07:00Dear Lady at Underbellie.com<div style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"></span></div><h2 style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"> Thank you for this. I loved it so much I am reposting it on my blog. I hope that is o k . I am not taking credit for any of what you wrote because I think you did it perfectly and how can I improve upon perfection? I do hope someone reads this. </span></span></h2><h2 style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Sincerely,</span></span></h2><h2 style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Rochelle </span></span></span></h2><h2><a href="http://underbellie.com/uncategorized/ohnoes-ive-been-squandering-my-sex-favor-cards/" rel="bookmark" title="OHNOES i’ve been squandering my “sex favor” cards!">OHNOES i’ve been squandering my “sex favor” cards!</a></h2><a href="http://underbellie.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/2010-01-01-june-bride.jpg"><img alt="Happily married!" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-127" src="http://underbellie.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/2010-01-01-june-bride.jpg" title="2010 01 01 june bride" width="225" /></a>The day after Christmas a friend po<span style="background-color: red;"></span>sted an article on her Facebook profile*, entitled "Men Who Help Clean Get More Sex", from Limelife.com. It's a subject I've seen many times online - another study that reports, in effect, that a relationship with a more egalitarian share of household responsibilities often enjoys more sex (although this study in particular - link below - seems to be talking specifically about high-energy couples - high-energy in work together and in sexual activity).<br />
The way this relatively lightweight Limelife piece presents the information is typical of the many articles I've seen on the topic (and that you will see if you do a simple Google search). It contains the following assumptions and implicit assertions:<br />
1. In a heterosexually-partnered relationship, housework is a woman's responsibility. A man can choose to "help" if he wishes.<br />
2. Sex isn't a mutual act: men are the pursuant party and women the pursued (or withholding). It makes sense for men to use "brownie points" to get sex, because:<br />
3. Women don't want sex for sex's sake. It's something they dole out as a reward; or, to use the headline, something men "get" out of their women if they play their cards right.<br />
4. Women find the sight of their male partner doing housework a "turn on" in and of itself - as opposed to male partners doing their share of housework being an element of a healthier relationship that helps heterosexual women stay happier, healthier, and sexually vigorous.<br />
Several studies from diverse sources show that as a group heterosexually-partnered males do half of the work in the home that women do, regardless of paid or outside employment. In my own observances, well - let's just say by example one of the many myriad and minor reasons I left Facebook were the handful of female acquaintances who'd post status messages like, "My husband is doing the dishes! I am the LUCKIEST LADY ALIVE!" without a trace of irony. As far as amorous relations, I don't have much of a window into my friends' sex lives - and they don't have much into mine. But I do know a dismaying number of married-to-men women who heap all kinds of grateful praise and "rescuing" on their partner for considerably less effort and performance than they, as females, perform daily, day in, day out, over and over.<br />
This hits home, too. My own husband is often the recipient of a glorified pedestaling for the kind of work I regularly do without much comment from outside parties; he has countless times been called "Superdad" for - I kid you not - <i>taking care of his own kids and sometimes other people's</i>. And just so you know - in case you, dear reader are childfree and/or unaware - women do stuff like arrange playdates and take care of kids All. The. Time.** I'll let my husband speak for himself more eloquently on his oft-prescribed moniker of "Superdad!" but suffice to say: he finds it demeaning and insulting to himself, and unfair to his wife.<br />
Obviously, in any<i> individual </i>relationship there are mitigating factors, and my intention here is not to personally weigh in on any particular couple or couple's habits. For instance: perhaps in the case of the abovementioned Facebook status the husband had done a bunch of OTHER awesome stuff earlier in the day. However, taken as a sum the truth is: we expect less out of our men and they are only too happy to deliver (or, as I like to more charitably believe, won't decide to deliver unless we educate them on the necessity that they do so).<br />
The sad thing is, ultimately, all this seems to point to a cultural devaluation of heterosexually-partnered women's health and happiness. Concomitant to this (not-very) mind-blowing concept that dudes should maybe pick it up at home I saw recently, on a web medical information site, an absolute glut of queries regarding a low sex-drive in women and wives - and many, many medications, remedies, and long lists of nutritional do's and don'ts to "fix" the problem. I'm left wondering: do the mojo-draining twin forces of overwork and deep resentment perhaps have <i>anything</i> at all to do with women's libido and desire? Naaaah. Let's keep to that whole, "What do women want? Ah, who knows! Let's give 'em a pill to get 'em horny for us." It's just easier that way.<br />
As for me? I actually do have a husband who does his share. But that doesn't mean he doesn't need reminders and re-education because, yeah, there is a right way to put away the dishes, bro. In fact, in our case - with one partner working at home and the other in paid employment - he's at a bit of a disadvantage when he comes home and is thrust into the house ins and outs. But he knows it's his job to do figure it out and do his share, and so do I. He's a really, really fabulous guy (he's also great in the sack, so I guess - bonus?), and I'm grateful to have such a partner. But I think I'm pretty cool too; I've been doing the hard, hard work of casting off the expectation I should do most (if not all) of the work <i>en casa</i>, and expect very little of - or be inordinately grateful for - his "help".<br />
<i>* I don't actually have a Facebook account, but I sometimes check my husband's.</i><br />
<i>** Another thing people do? A lot? When a father of an infant is taking care of his own child, they call it "babysitting" (as opposed to, you know, parenting).</i>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-1335216245838255722010-02-10T13:15:00.000-07:002010-02-10T13:15:47.391-07:00To The City of Midvale,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim0IRcbsX_ik7L2onuDb7KuW9GzpV2rfzYul71kukNcqYY1-ngUIb6iPYudvhGzMJ44CVo5f0tkxr_asCL4skNBc1OPWfoW2ONoYDikWIbn_BUYy4JlUIo45MOGicZhV7Oky7Kuw/s1600-h/DSCN2484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim0IRcbsX_ik7L2onuDb7KuW9GzpV2rfzYul71kukNcqYY1-ngUIb6iPYudvhGzMJ44CVo5f0tkxr_asCL4skNBc1OPWfoW2ONoYDikWIbn_BUYy4JlUIo45MOGicZhV7Oky7Kuw/s320/DSCN2484.JPG" /></a></div>It seems that I am not going to be able to get on with my day until I have made written this.<br />
I have a bee in my bonnet. A really big bee. What is up with your police officers? I am sure that they are only following orders when they pull everyone over under the sun for what seems like the lamest of "violations" but come on! Go solve some crime already! Why do I never see a patrol car in my neighborhood just "patrolling"? Go find the person or persons who stole my neighbors brand new lawn mower. Go find whoever it was that broke my stereo in my car and stole all of my awesome cds. What about the neighbors on the corner? I'm sure you're aware that one of their cars was stolen last year and the car was eventually found but did you find out who did it? I doubt it. Maybe if you weren't so busy pulling everyone over, a portion if not all of these crimes could be prevented. Don't even get me started on the houses that have been burglarized around here! Again, why do I never see any cops except the ones who are hiding over by the cemetery, hiding by the burger joint on state street and various other places just waiting to pull people over. Don't get me wrong, if someone is driving recklessly or is somehow endangering the lives of innocent people around them then by all means, go get them! But really? Pulling someone over for going five freakin' miles over the speed limit or something else ridiculous?<br />
BEE IN MY BONNET.<br />
Was that $130 ticket really necessary? I turned right on a red light. Their is no sign there that says I can't turn on a red light. I looked. No sign. A warrant for my arrest because I have not paid the fine? Give me a break! You are aware, stupid Midvale City, that we are in the middle of a recession? Maybe I have not paid the fine because I do not have an extra $130 laying around for stupid traffic tickets and I especially don't have the extra $290 that you want because I have not paid the $130! So you want $420 of my hard earned money? I don't think so. We own our home and pay our property taxes every year. I am vigilant about keeping an "eye" on my neighborhood and surrounding areas for anything suspicious. We, along with all my neighbors, keep our yards looking pretty darn nice compared to some other parts of this city. I even hosted the Neighborhood Block Party last year as part of Harvest Days! Thanks for showing up by the way. We REALLY appreciate it. (I say those last two sentences with an abundance of sarcasm because no one from the City bothered to show up)<br />
Soooo....<br />
I will see you in court in April. I will have pictures of that intersection with me. I am sure the bee will still be in my bonnet. I don't back down easily so get ready for a fight.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Sincerely,</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Rochelle</div><div style="text-align: center;"> WITH A BEE IN MY BONNET</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-73729811013548919572010-02-04T20:03:00.001-07:002010-02-04T20:20:49.093-07:00Dear Dental Hygenist,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41WPQCiclJ08tZLSxJXlV7umJ0OeS1OANtvhsu5EhFOpAz2UNAjaUvcmgv9O4dXbtINZHDuWBIl7ZfDsmvQUTx4sP0LNdHsC7zAP3Ux1qp3rVNolblf_VUfX2XCceTgBvvVaEiQ/s1600-h/ist2_322167-dental-hygienist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41WPQCiclJ08tZLSxJXlV7umJ0OeS1OANtvhsu5EhFOpAz2UNAjaUvcmgv9O4dXbtINZHDuWBIl7ZfDsmvQUTx4sP0LNdHsC7zAP3Ux1qp3rVNolblf_VUfX2XCceTgBvvVaEiQ/s320/ist2_322167-dental-hygienist.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*Dental hygiene--I'm sure some people think those are the instruments I use* </div><br />
I'm sure you thought you were being oh so gentle when you scraped my teeth with that deadly looking metal tool. I'm sure you thought that I am weird because I told you not to use that nifty little tool that sucks the drool out of my mouth and not to put any cold water in my mouth because I am super sensitive to cold and it quite literally would cause me to jump out of the chair. My mouth feels like it was in a terrible fight and lost. My gums hurt from your "gentle" flossing and are swollen in some areas. Good grief. Its no wonder I have put off going for a checkup for so long. I feel like its some sort of punishment. Thank-you for the nice compliment however about how white my teeth are and how healthy they look. I plan on keeping them forever. You are so lucky to work for Dr. Clark. He is so nice and always goes out of his way to get to know his patients. I'm sure he is just as gracious to his staff. Next time I come in, please try to be a little more gentle. I admit it: I am a big fat baby when it comes to people poking around in my mouth with sharp objects. See you in August. I'm sure you are really looking forward to it.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
RochelleRochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-30822507433597655752010-02-04T01:10:00.001-07:002010-02-04T01:11:12.112-07:00Dear Parents,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You don't know what YTD is? How shameful.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Let me help you: Youth Tendency Disorder. The horror. The absolute horror that our youth should behave in such a well, youthful way. Isn't that what they are supposed to do? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Need a good laugh? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Want to read all about it? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Go <a href="http://www.theonion.com/content/news/more_u_s_children_being_diagnosed">here</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You won't be disappointed. At least I hope not. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzCoYwxpqd_IIvUXXD76JQ04X3iIEIiBAqRUFVug5PVKbTsa-cNQk0YldAEUW_EAFaud76XRDySQcMO6-ZqODBBN1Lk88fiOuQUpCm2Y2TkfweNfGBTzWS4veCufB3WkLE4qDPQ/s1600-h/onion_news624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzCoYwxpqd_IIvUXXD76JQ04X3iIEIiBAqRUFVug5PVKbTsa-cNQk0YldAEUW_EAFaud76XRDySQcMO6-ZqODBBN1Lk88fiOuQUpCm2Y2TkfweNfGBTzWS4veCufB3WkLE4qDPQ/s320/onion_news624.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-67936919882112401722010-02-03T13:15:00.000-07:002010-02-03T13:15:58.848-07:00Dear Family,<div style="text-align: center;">❤tyler</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">♥kate</div><div style="text-align: center;">♥♥ella </div><div style="text-align: center;">♥♥♥sophie</div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">❤❤</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love you dearly </div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-24540336961469876912010-02-02T14:09:00.000-07:002010-02-02T14:09:10.268-07:00Dear CocoRosie, What exactly do you mean by these lyrics? Just as they say or is there some hidden meaning? I wonder.....<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> By Your Side</div><div style="text-align: center;">by </div><div style="text-align: center;">CocoRosie</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I'll always be by your side <br />
Even when you're down and out <br />
I'll always be by your side <br />
Even when you're down and out <br />
I just wanted to be your housewife <br />
All i wanted was to be your housewife <br />
I'll iron your clothes <br />
I'll shine your shoes <br />
I'll make your bed <br />
And cook your food <br />
I'll never cheat <br />
I'll be the best girl you'd ever meet <br />
And for a diamond ring <br />
I'll do these kinds of things <br />
I'll scrub your floor <br />
Never be a bore <br />
I'd tuck you in <br />
I do not snore <br />
I'd wear your black eyes <br />
Bake you apple pies <br />
I won't ask whys <br />
And i try not to cry <br />
I'll always be by your side <br />
Even when you're down and out <br />
I'll always be by your side <br />
Even when you're down and out <br />
And its nearly midnight <br />
And all i want with my life <br />
Is to be a housewife <br />
Is to be a housewife <br />
'Cause it's nearly midnight <br />
And all i want with my life <br />
Is to die a housewife <br />
Is to die a housewife</i></div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-59332683685710859152010-02-01T13:00:00.000-07:002010-02-01T13:00:11.300-07:00Dear January,Thank heavens you are over. I will not miss you. You are a dreary, cold, wretched month and you have always made be feel a little depressed. There will forever be one bright spot in your 31 days; Sophie's birthday. This year she turned one and we had a fun little party at the church with the works. Fun, fun.<br />
Now that you are over, that means we are one month closer to spring.....ahhh, glorious spring!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgLH2uOwx1I6DLwMNDz3q0CQ-chRcdBTSJOFuV4VgpBuZ0IAi5wHsTeknfig5OFty0IzahV3o0dQsnPjj-FgCyQM9yqbtvo8fSASVCtPK4d_snEPBQOrMSUnmQMTXCmRxzqfE1g/s1600-h/DSCN2423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgLH2uOwx1I6DLwMNDz3q0CQ-chRcdBTSJOFuV4VgpBuZ0IAi5wHsTeknfig5OFty0IzahV3o0dQsnPjj-FgCyQM9yqbtvo8fSASVCtPK4d_snEPBQOrMSUnmQMTXCmRxzqfE1g/s320/DSCN2423.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhPVPNwrh5xVG14RD7NQ5y2lp9fzgx7Z-gybcklqwjTHPQXA8_DgsgeriXnBiw4tlK8vptwWoKf16vXSz10gCqvuET8jYY_3VsvkitBXZvWXYVac1jW8g004TFo6BY6llsLaMvw/s1600-h/DSCN2422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhPVPNwrh5xVG14RD7NQ5y2lp9fzgx7Z-gybcklqwjTHPQXA8_DgsgeriXnBiw4tlK8vptwWoKf16vXSz10gCqvuET8jYY_3VsvkitBXZvWXYVac1jW8g004TFo6BY6llsLaMvw/s320/DSCN2422.JPG" /></a></div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-45353677641990099022010-01-28T12:12:00.000-07:002010-01-28T12:12:57.086-07:00Dear Pandora,Oh <a href="http://www.pandora.com/">Pandora</a>......I love <a href="http://www.pandora.com/corporate/">you</a>! This is the best thing ever! You really do play the type of music that I like. It's like you came to my house and climbed in my head and found out what I love. I have to make sure I give credit to my SIL, Wendy, because she is the one who told me all about you. Thanks, and I'll keep rockin' out.....Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-25771801877107597932010-01-26T13:58:00.002-07:002010-01-26T14:02:53.485-07:00Dear Lenore,You are my new hero. A lovely, breath of refreshing air. I heard about you for the first time last year from an article in "The Week" magazine. I was so intrigued I soon learned that you had written a book. I read it. It was awesome. I admit, some things truly do still scare me to death and I would definitely say I am in the baby step phase for a good portion of things. But deep down I think I have always felt (and still feel) that a lot of what "scares" me is really unfounded garbage brought on by the almighty media machine. One example of this? That awful Nancy Grace. But I don't want to talk about her.<br />
I have already made some significant progress. Of course "progress" is a relative term.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Anyway, here is a list of my progress: <br />
</div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I let my 5 year old daughter go to the restroom alone at Wal-Mart not once, but twice over a few days time.</li>
<li>This same 5 year old returned our shopping cart to the aforementioned store. This included crossing the parking lot and street. I was watching the whole time of course and she knows to look both ways. Was she ever proud of herself!</li>
<li>I have always let my kids play outside by themselves (ages 5 and 9) and I live smack in the middle of an urban area in the Salt Lake City Valley. You are spot on when you say, "They don't know your kids like you do." I trust my girls. They're no dummies. (Of course I do check on them!)</li>
<li>Plans are in the works for my kids to start walking to school when the weather warms up a bit. I honestly thought my 9 year old would resist but she is actually excited and is looking forward to it! We live approximately 1/2 mile from my kids' school. They are driven to and from school everyday. </li>
<li>My kids are allowed to walk or ride their bikes to a friends house who lives on the next block. Wow!</li>
<li>We have a trampoline with out padding (yikes!) or that netting (lame!) that is supposed to keep the kids from falling off when they are jumping. Actually, this is not progress because I grew up with one as did all of my neighbors and relatives so really it is more of a staple if you ask me. I am happy to report that none of my childhood friends, neighbors and cousins were permanently injured from a trampoline. We sure did have a lot of fun and got a lot of exercise though! <br />
</li>
</ul>One of my biggest issues is the cell phone. I love my cell phone like you love yours. But why oh why do parents think kids need them? I will never understand. My 9 year old begs and pleads to get one. I will not give in. I told her when she is old enough to get a job to pay for it herself (like I do mine) then she can go right ahead! I loved your article: <a href="http://www.creators.com/opinion/lenore-skenazy/cell-phone-holdouts-are-right-buy-a-phone-become-a-baby.html">Buy a Phone, Become a Baby</a> . My favorite part of that article: "In fact, it's possible that children in a cell-connected world make out worst of all. This morning, not five minutes after I'd left for work, my 11-year-old called from the kitchen to ask if he could have banana bread for breakfast.<br />
Kid — <i> I'm not there </i>. Eat ice cream and marshmallows. Make a vodka smoothie! Go wild or be a good boy, just pretend it's 1990 and I'm unreachable. With all of us connected all the time — "Mom, I'm on the bus," "Mom, I'm two blocks from home" — independence never gets a foothold."<br />
AMEN!! I love my kids but I want them to grow up and be, well, grown ups! Independent grown ups at that! So no, I will not get my kids a cell phone. End of story.<br />
Keep up the good work and I will keep up the baby steps. I will also be slowly informing my friends and neighbors about the 'Free-Range Kids' movement. I say its a movement! I have gotten pretty good about spouting off the statistics from your book about kidnapping, drowning, car accidents and so forth to whoever will listen. If you could only hear me. My next goal is to see what I can do about the no running rule on the playground at my kids' school. Seriously, no running? Wish me luck!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Sincerely,<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Rochelle<br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-47752916313374465442010-01-25T12:51:00.000-07:002010-01-25T12:51:18.779-07:00Dear Jill,<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I wanted to tell you about a funny, albeit disgusting </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">little adventure </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I had while visiting </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">a relative a few months ago. I will </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">call this relative my "Hostess" to protect her identity. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My Hostess has some doggies that have never been properly trained in the potty department. The doggies preferred spot to pee is in the office. I think it must be the lovely shag carpet in that room that they love so much. Ha Ha Anyway, as you can imagine, that office stinks to high heaven and it spreads to the rest of the house which just alarms the senses. I tell you, when you first get to her house and you walk in the front door, holy cow. Talk about rank. In order to "spare" her house guests of the putrid smell of dog urine, she shuts the office door. Where, do you ask, do the doggies pee if they can't get to the shag carpeted office? Where ever they want of course! </span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Mercy. </span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">While I was up there I needed a paper cutter and asked my Hostess if she had one.</span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Why yes, she does, its in the desk in the office.</span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Did she say office?</span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> O.k., I'm from </span><st1:state style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Idaho</st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">, Hibbard even. Dog pee is nothing compared to weevils or lice (the two things that gross me out beyond gross).</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Bring it on. </span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So off I go to brave the dog pee in the office all in the name of a paper cutter. As I get to the office door, I take a deep breath, hold it, open the door and I am halfway across the room before I realized I wasn't wearing shoes.</span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Why wasn't I wearing shoes?!?! </span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So what did I do? I stopped. I was paralyzed in the middle of the room, shoeless and standing on the crunchiest, stiffest, most disgusting urine saturated shag carpet ever. In that brief moment of paralysis, I weighed my options. I could either run out of the room as fast as possible and that meant I would be without the paper cutter and I would have to come back, or I could just suck it up and carry on to the desk and be done with it. I was already halfway there anyway, I might as well just keep going and get the stupid paper cutter. I chose the latter and made a mad dash for the desk. I grabbed that darn paper cutter and was out as fast as I could. After I was out of the room and back to "safety" I had what you would call a mini-seizure right there in the hall. I was so grossed out I could hardly stand it. I promptly washed my feet and and hands several times and then used the paper cutter. I did not, however, put it back in the office, going against what I am always nagging my kids for: To put stuff back where you got it. I left it out for my Hostess to put back. Was getting the paper cutter worth all of that? I guess you can decide. You got my Christmas card didn't you?</span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Much Love Always,<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Rochelle<br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-89278638582666168882010-01-22T20:45:00.000-07:002010-01-22T20:45:11.717-07:00Dear Babies of Haiti,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhit571Q8pjZwLqw8dNBj7SLiiydTKz_8XpEZn58OppjCfrO28uSOynzXUq81AuLnFJ_ZdPhHT6vFlcnGbV9aazggdxKR91QiIaPs3OYybJdag6XWDlwne6M4SXyb7xhahEJuLHCg/s1600-h/haiti.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhit571Q8pjZwLqw8dNBj7SLiiydTKz_8XpEZn58OppjCfrO28uSOynzXUq81AuLnFJ_ZdPhHT6vFlcnGbV9aazggdxKR91QiIaPs3OYybJdag6XWDlwne6M4SXyb7xhahEJuLHCg/s400/haiti.JPG" width="300" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I wish I could go get you and take you all home with me or go to where you are and give you everything you need. My heart breaks when I see all your little faces. I hope you are all being protected and taken care of.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I feel so useless. The only thing I can send is my prayers.<br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-70322865247797349662010-01-21T11:02:00.002-07:002010-01-21T11:06:21.586-07:00To The Chocolate Sophie Ate Last Night,Mysterious bumps on my baby this morning. Was that you? Hmmmmmm. How to know for sure? We really like you. I don't want to give you a bad rap or anything because you are most certainly delicious. I'll be watching.....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNQQ5K5BHm5Uo8ojyzGim13mpQkR-8V1WUHXMDwacqXu4_3KW1R8P_dFWsNDjLVwGUefD_a7CHQkUYuMV6dWLvjLxZBdUXQq7UnOl08WNC6qa9-DH70nY0Esmi4RkE36FhnWoIQ/s1600-h/DSCN2458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNQQ5K5BHm5Uo8ojyzGim13mpQkR-8V1WUHXMDwacqXu4_3KW1R8P_dFWsNDjLVwGUefD_a7CHQkUYuMV6dWLvjLxZBdUXQq7UnOl08WNC6qa9-DH70nY0Esmi4RkE36FhnWoIQ/s320/DSCN2458.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpIaV-Pz0l5_vtRdViMdTvZ3_oW8x8Xi5KYNxU8VvA2DFtG3gqsG5uhFXkFqkh9wTNh3awsM0mM5WHVt4IkhKY65_SEiKp6UhAn01UxWPJqeYsflM_7H-Xwj6OyhJ8XMtiOGQow/s1600-h/DSCN2457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpIaV-Pz0l5_vtRdViMdTvZ3_oW8x8Xi5KYNxU8VvA2DFtG3gqsG5uhFXkFqkh9wTNh3awsM0mM5WHVt4IkhKY65_SEiKp6UhAn01UxWPJqeYsflM_7H-Xwj6OyhJ8XMtiOGQow/s320/DSCN2457.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-14996877406756102362010-01-20T00:45:00.000-07:002010-01-20T00:45:12.974-07:00Dear 2010,<div style="text-align: center;">Please, please, please be kind to me.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I can't take a crappy 2010. So far, not so good. Why?<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I am trying so hard and don't seem to get anywhere. I'll keep going tho.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">What other choice do I have?<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I won't give up and I won't quit, so go easy on me.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sincerely,<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Me<br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-71241698428572501762010-01-14T20:02:00.000-07:002010-01-14T20:02:07.047-07:00Dear House,<div style="text-align: center;">Why are you such a disaster? I know I went back to work full time but that is no excuse.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is ridiculous. What did you do with my church binder? Where is my nice papercutter? You know, the one that actually cuts paper? Why haven't those tiles been fixed at the top of the stairs? I've wanted that done in -well, I can't tell you how long because I forgot. And the garage! I don't remember the last time I even parked the car in there. I would like to park it in there again soon.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Also, how long exactly have you been leaking? The water damage has become very evident. Are you<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">planning on dropping the ceiling on us one of these days?<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I hope not.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I think we have been pretty good to you. By today's standards you<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">would probably be considered old.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I think we have given you some new life with a new kitchen, windows, tile and paint.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Right? You certainly look better and if you look better than most likely<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">you feel better. Well, at least I do. Houses are probably different in that<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">regard.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You are still a good house. And you have been good to us.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You keep us warm in the winter, cool in the summer and safe all the year round. I don't want<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">you to think that I am ungrateful for you. I am most certainly not. Our little family<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">loves living here. So I guess I will forgive you. What other choice do I have? I don't think<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I can forgive you for the leaky roof yet. I don't know how much its going to cost to fix and I am<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">scared even to think about it. Oh well.....at least we are warm.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-31595456738836036382010-01-12T00:34:00.004-07:002010-01-12T00:57:12.260-07:00Dear Sophie,<div style="text-align: center;">How has it been a year already?<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My heart aches because it went so fast. Did I take it all in as much as I could? What did I miss?<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This time last year, I went to bed wondering when you were going to make<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">your appearance into our lives. I didn't have to wait long. The next evening you came.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You were worth the wait. <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AxGK0UmTbBMMQYd_zYV8SseiltNSd9SY3E7Q3Bt_rM3VKnervR1Dk7qyhTF2J5QLI0pcHUS4LUtwMZlEt8Hq3zS8vDlXsho29k8xnVpU1Rts4JZ7TIFbEaNYlMwHFiAaQbh8ng/s1600-h/DSC_0183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AxGK0UmTbBMMQYd_zYV8SseiltNSd9SY3E7Q3Bt_rM3VKnervR1Dk7qyhTF2J5QLI0pcHUS4LUtwMZlEt8Hq3zS8vDlXsho29k8xnVpU1Rts4JZ7TIFbEaNYlMwHFiAaQbh8ng/s320/DSC_0183.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">You have been such a sweet baby and you are such a joy. Did I feel this way about<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">my other babies this much? I'm sure I did. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"A mother's body remembers her babies-the folds of soft flesh, the softly furred scalp against her nose. Each child has it's own entreaties to body and soul."</i>-Barbara Kingsolver<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You are so precious and I find it no coincidence that the first year of your life<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">is the first time I have really enjoyed being a Mom.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Not long after you were born, and as I rocked you in my arms,<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I fondly remember reciting to myself this poem (at least the last part and the shocking house part):<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Song for a Fifth Child</span></i><br />
<i>Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth<br />
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,<br />
hang out the washing and butter the bread,<br />
sew on a button and make up a bed.<br />
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?<br />
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.<br />
<br />
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue<br />
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).<br />
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due<br />
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).<br />
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew<br />
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo<br />
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.<br />
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?<br />
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).<br />
<br />
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,<br />
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.<br />
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.<br />
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.<br />
</i> <br />
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton<br />
<br />
So, Happy Birthday to you.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I just love you so much that I can't even stand it! You make me so happy.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">One day when you are older and if you chance to read this, unless you have kids of your<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">own when you do read it, I'm sure you will think me oh so very crazy. Thats ok.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Even though I'm sure you're not my last, I have felt this way about all three of my babies:<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>"But the last one: the baby who trails her scent like a flag of surrender through </i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>your life when there will be no more coming after - oh, that's love by a different name.</i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> She is the babe you hold in your arms for an hour after she's gone to sleep. If you put her down in the crib, she might wake up changed and fly away. So instead you rock my the window, drinking the light from her skin, breathing her exhaled dreams. Your heart bays to the double crescent moons of closed lashes on her cheeks. She's the one you can't put down." </i><br />
— <a class="authorNameRegular" href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/3541.Barbara_Kingsolver" title="view all quotes by Barbara Kingsolver">Barbara Kingsolver</a> (<a class="bookTitleRegular" href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/quotes/7244">The Poisonwood Bible</a>)<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Much Love Always,<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mommy<br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-87340819140326978162010-01-08T02:01:00.000-07:002010-01-08T02:01:59.797-07:00Dear Grandma,Dear Grandma,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGni2zB7Egyt_EJH77_GIU81cIMe1V1QSJkASTn0ssUdHfAVX03ce8u3nAdWo1VkV98zZnkYJH5BOZm1YmkKdfzaKOJkwnZhVi3MkDu2rTAm7GQW5Bty1gBnp9iQf1ZWOfnRJ32Q/s1600-h/_Jos+Ron+Jalene+Wedding2.jpg_" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGni2zB7Egyt_EJH77_GIU81cIMe1V1QSJkASTn0ssUdHfAVX03ce8u3nAdWo1VkV98zZnkYJH5BOZm1YmkKdfzaKOJkwnZhVi3MkDu2rTAm7GQW5Bty1gBnp9iQf1ZWOfnRJ32Q/s320/_Jos+Ron+Jalene+Wedding2.jpg_" /></a><br />
</div> Happy Birthday! If you were alive you would be 75. That is young. I really wish you were still here, Grandpa too. I would probably be bitter and angry that you were both taken so young were it not for the gospel and the knowledge that I will see you both again. How comforting that is. I wish you could come for a visit and see where I live but more than that I wish I could come to Idaho and visit you on the farm. So much to tell you.<br />
I have learned so much this past year. I would make you laugh, cringe and chastise me all with a sentence or two. I think about you all the time mostly when I am doing mundane house work or cooking as these are the things you loved. I can make some serious cinnamon rolls (finally!) that would give even yours a run for their money! <br />
My kids grow like weeds. Already a year has gone by and my baby will be one in a few days. I'm sure you would get a kick out of my kids and their spunky, individual personalities. You would be happy to know that I have found joy in motherhood. Maybe you could tell me why it has taken me this long. There is so much I understand now about why mothers do the things they do and I know you would appreciate hearing it. Thank you for being such a pillar of strength and a great example. I am just so sorry that I didn't recognize these things when you were alive. That is how it goes I guess. You don't know what you've got till its gone.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Thank you......<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for teaching me how to make buttermilk....<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for all your recipes, I treasure them!...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for showing me how to make homemade noodles..<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for your frugality. I always ask myself, what would Gma do?....<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for your stories. Im so glad you wrote them down...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for impressing on my mind the importance of hard work....<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for growing dill in your garden, it will forever remind me of you...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for delicious pickled beets...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for delicious homemade bread...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for delicious turkey noodle soup with mashed potatoes...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">for writing in your journal all of those years. For with those you speak to me.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">...........................................................<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Much Love,<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Rochelle<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-18997372865164386672009-12-13T14:47:00.000-07:002009-12-13T14:47:47.743-07:00I wish I had a river<div style="text-align: center;">I love this song...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Its coming on Christmas</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> They're cutting down trees</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> They're putting up reindeer </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>And singing songs of joy and peace </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> But it don't snow here</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> It stays pretty green</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> I'm going to make a lot of money </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> I wish I had a river I could skate away on </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> I wish I had a river so long I would teach my feet to fly </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>I made my baby cry</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> He tried hard to help me</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> You know, he put me at ease</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> And he loved me so naughty</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Made me weak in the knees</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> I'm so hard to handle</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> I'm selfish and I'm sad</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Now Ive gone and lost the best baby</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> That I ever had</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> I wish I had a river so long I would teach my feet to fly</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>I made my baby say goodbye </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Its coming on Christmas </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> They're cutting down trees </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> They're putting up reindeer</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> And singing songs of joy and peace</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> I wish I had a river I could skate away on </b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Joni Mitchell, you are awesome. <br />
</b><br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-43583868472006545982009-11-09T09:56:00.003-07:002009-11-09T09:58:30.434-07:00Love Us Some Halloween<div style="text-align: center;">Halloween is one of my favorite times of the year.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Always has been. It must be the month.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love the changing colors of fall, my birthday (at least I liked birthdays when I was younger!) and of course dressing up on Halloween. This year was the first year in a long while that I did not dress up. Not in the budget to find a costume and, since I am back at work, I really didn't have the time. However, my kids looked fab and had a blast as usual and Tyler's costume turned out pretty good as well even though I<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">can't believe we didn't get a picture of it! Arrggghhhh! Oh well, its imprinted on by brain. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmGWQkYMiEPPotppTcvl5urV3SOcCNzNn0wOsds0O8Ffkt8QPrPZdaQB5lRyxgVdm90iqtTWttABfhzfhpZI5YQQ16Xv0RwAjYKXV7isG5jJs7yVkykkzL3figLt_vILnn3aIAQ/s1600-h/DSCN2154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmGWQkYMiEPPotppTcvl5urV3SOcCNzNn0wOsds0O8Ffkt8QPrPZdaQB5lRyxgVdm90iqtTWttABfhzfhpZI5YQQ16Xv0RwAjYKXV7isG5jJs7yVkykkzL3figLt_vILnn3aIAQ/s320/DSCN2154.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Punk chick at the school Haloween parade<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-sQgJK67uSq5PepJqUbnxubOXTPOllnO9-GFIYiprw-0r6dCA3JUQQXNN3r96BTbp0Y86YRPGLLMzuTxohLwbJeagglizqRTOl8MqJDMI-V_r4iC19fedE2N8Ab3NqM1YUA3l4A/s1600-h/DSCN2157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-sQgJK67uSq5PepJqUbnxubOXTPOllnO9-GFIYiprw-0r6dCA3JUQQXNN3r96BTbp0Y86YRPGLLMzuTxohLwbJeagglizqRTOl8MqJDMI-V_r4iC19fedE2N8Ab3NqM1YUA3l4A/s320/DSCN2157.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Kate was lucky enough to have Gene Simmons from Kiss come<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to her class!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmC6W8HYh86CLjdMIKhSUwqzvrXJqaBsF89WdeEeuEyAojtd2jMOBlNmB0i8ncURBYPh6QlSMeSnkoLnQhYvKiScAQvG5sVvcY0CgZmVrpnpx2DUwZYNQXdOZ-B7s5KtgICWGqw/s1600-h/DSCN2150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmC6W8HYh86CLjdMIKhSUwqzvrXJqaBsF89WdeEeuEyAojtd2jMOBlNmB0i8ncURBYPh6QlSMeSnkoLnQhYvKiScAQvG5sVvcY0CgZmVrpnpx2DUwZYNQXdOZ-B7s5KtgICWGqw/s320/DSCN2150.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Miss Ladybug at the parade. This is<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">a repeat costume she wore from two years ago.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love that.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAVmRM1Wd2aA8lCtu1cG9B_OX5swL2SEiruF88U7nIfp2QiuOi1Z-iDXzoJRoArbQtfBsL8ae4uM5Gvzwi1CS-2blS8-UoI6swWnMENCA-bbhsNoEcrtRaIk2oFCBNNK-ga7ZYQ/s1600-h/DSC_2896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAVmRM1Wd2aA8lCtu1cG9B_OX5swL2SEiruF88U7nIfp2QiuOi1Z-iDXzoJRoArbQtfBsL8ae4uM5Gvzwi1CS-2blS8-UoI6swWnMENCA-bbhsNoEcrtRaIk2oFCBNNK-ga7ZYQ/s320/DSC_2896.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Little Miss Lion cub. I could just squish her for being so cute!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0yeh2QxZKb7Z7QVCCLXBdvxh6vXALQuq4xz6hcVpQSOGtLyjt-T90ZEHCoQFJ0hrD7-Mz7SiIlTEDid-j5FyC-miIGadmPRGpAXsCu-yr4fM-WmxJcSmKCHBEkmeaBfLaFmlmw/s1600-h/DSC_2888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0yeh2QxZKb7Z7QVCCLXBdvxh6vXALQuq4xz6hcVpQSOGtLyjt-T90ZEHCoQFJ0hrD7-Mz7SiIlTEDid-j5FyC-miIGadmPRGpAXsCu-yr4fM-WmxJcSmKCHBEkmeaBfLaFmlmw/s320/DSC_2888.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Ready to trick or treat!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Kate went trick or treating with a friend so it was <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">just the two younger ones.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJoYImiJnVU8PW0fdiT35S-5izQxGuotD3vouGyCbF8wBeWM6IsNEySPYpGhuUoAGUSaWpJXdCkUJFxO5qrelQgLTMNfXU9mZh3DR9XHFy8K4ux4cvXlc84c44Ye3MM-zvKD496w/s1600-h/DSC_2897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJoYImiJnVU8PW0fdiT35S-5izQxGuotD3vouGyCbF8wBeWM6IsNEySPYpGhuUoAGUSaWpJXdCkUJFxO5qrelQgLTMNfXU9mZh3DR9XHFy8K4ux4cvXlc84c44Ye3MM-zvKD496w/s320/DSC_2897.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Awwwwwww.......<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyPqjX4F9qtE84pWFeULp5h8KTN8crt0Jm9F9uJsbYvgFFNPYhMnTu8NjjByspoNVbqH0hnlCT3_lgeRVQwbkZPm9CV0o3q-nenoFCXjASBFPvVqpEJjT3M-GddevmDf4PNWikA/s1600-h/DSC_2880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyPqjX4F9qtE84pWFeULp5h8KTN8crt0Jm9F9uJsbYvgFFNPYhMnTu8NjjByspoNVbqH0hnlCT3_lgeRVQwbkZPm9CV0o3q-nenoFCXjASBFPvVqpEJjT3M-GddevmDf4PNWikA/s320/DSC_2880.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">All tatooed and pierced up. Off to school with you!<br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-40075821358801146772009-11-08T23:24:00.000-07:002009-11-08T23:24:17.628-07:00I Want To Be.....<div style="text-align: center;">I read, in a matter of hours, almost all of <a href="http://nieniedialogues.blogspot.com/">Stephanie Nielson's blog</a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I would recommend it to anyone.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I had heard of her from a friend last year but just recently decided to check out her blog. Wow. What a woman and what an amazing family. I think I could only dream of, A-Being that cool to begin with and, B-Having the kind of courage that she has.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Again, wow.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> After reading back a few years to some of her earlier posts, I read things I had read and heard before but didn't really strike a nerve or hit home until now.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <i><b> I was reminded.</b></i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Reminded that I have a job that sometimes I take a little too lightly.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>I am a Mother!</b></i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> A Mother for crying out loud of three fantastical, beautiful and exuberant daughters. How has Heavenly Father entrusted me with these precious spirits? He really must have a lot more faith in me than I have in myself sometimes. I really gotta work on that whole faith thing.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I forgot about this <a href="http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?hideNav=1&locale=0&sourceId=dba62bce258f5110VgnVCM100000176f620a____&vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD">talk.</a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> And when I heard Sister Beck give it last year I didn't really give it much thought at the time.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have given it more thought now. More, better, faster. Those are the things I think about. Doesn't really matter what it is it seems like, just more activities, play dates, TV, getting it done sooner, cleaning, laundry, work, ect...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">In part: <br />
</div><div style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: black; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Mothers who know do less. They permit less of what will not bear good fruit eternally. They allow less media in their homes, less distraction, less activity that draws their children away from their home. Mothers who know are willing to live on less and consume less of the world’s goods in order to spend more time with their children—more time eating together, more time working together, more time reading together, more time talking, laughing, singing, and exemplifying. These mothers choose carefully and do not try to choose it all. Their goal is to prepare a rising generation of children who will take the gospel of Jesus Christ into the entire world. Their goal is to prepare future fathers and mothers who will be builders of the Lord’s kingdom for the next 50 years. That is influence; that is power.</i></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">But I really want to do it all.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;"> I want to be it all, not just for myself but for everyone else around me</span>.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I can't. So I won't.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And that is OK.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I really need to follow the adage that less is more and remember that my kids don't "need" more of anything. They just need more of me.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So I want to be a mother who knows, a mother who listens especially. I suck at<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">really listening to my kids. I want to be a mom who plays with her kids. They are not kids for long after all. They grow so fast it makes my head spin.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I need to gather them in while I can and love them.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> The time will come when they won't really prefer my company and I'm sure I will be full of regret then.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I hate regret.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I kept on reading Stephanies blog.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And then I was reminded again.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Double whammy for me I guess.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">In M. Russell Ballards talk, <a href="http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?hideNav=1&locale=0&sourceId=9694558fcc599110VgnVCM100000176f620a____&vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD">Daughters of God</a> , he says:<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: #f4cccc;">Author Anna Quindlen reminds us not to rush past the fleeting moments. She said: “The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. … I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less” (<em>Loud and Clear</em></b> [2004], 10–11).<br />
</div><i><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"></span></i><div style="text-align: center;">Ouch.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That one stings.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> A lot.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">If I didn't know any better I would say that she was describing me!<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am always in a hurry to get on to the next thing and<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">it is always at my childrens (and husbands!) expense. I will not be a basket head<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">mother any longer!<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>I am going to try harder</b></i>.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I have to. I have often thought that if I didn't have my kids how drab<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">my life would be. Pointless even. But, thankfully, I do have them.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>So I will cherish them.</b></i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Besides, I don't think we are doing that bad of a job. There is always room for improvement of course.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Case in point: Yesterday we raked leaves together as a family. Ella was so engrossed in her raking that she knocked her head on a tree branch and began to cry. Tyler and I watched as Kate came over, put her arm around her and comforted her and got Ella to stop crying. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My heart nearly melted.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">THAT is what a big sister is supposed to do.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I was so proud. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-4026298132616799662009-11-03T14:04:00.002-07:002009-11-03T14:07:23.972-07:00For Ironman Jace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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For Jace, as promised. Jace has leukemia and looks much better with chubby cheeks then I did.<br />
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These pictures are of me in my senior year of high school at MHS. Both are from two different dances I went to. I was on a large dose of prednisone for Crohn's disease and one of its many side effects is "mooning" of the face. Or in other words, a fat face. Everyone always asked me if I had just had my wisdom teeth pulled. I even had people ask me if I poked my cheeks with a pin if they would pop. Silly people. These pictures make me laugh and they make me laugh even harder when my friends (and sometimes family!) don't believe that it is really me. So here I am in all my moon face glory.<br />
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Stuff like this only makes you more of an Ironman, Jace.<br />
Rock on!Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-15474857679360583362009-10-20T13:47:00.001-06:002009-10-20T13:48:26.775-06:00Cute Little Pumpkins<div style="text-align: center;">Some pics of my little pumpkins. Oh how they get so big every year....<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Baby Punkin'<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">KA-BOOM<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">The biggest pumpkins!<br />
</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20998526.post-45464749253935985802009-10-19T00:09:00.000-06:002009-10-19T00:09:10.743-06:00I Am LovedToday is my birthday. I really don't get all that excited about birthdays anymore for myself. I guess I just don't really care that much. Its just a number anyway. I'm more concerned with the wrinkles and brown spots on my face. Those I hope to have zapped for my 40th. The only reason I have picked 40 is because it is going to take me that long to save enough money to have it all lasered off. I will be super hot!<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I had a good laugh over this card. Man, do my friends know me<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">or what?<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">So I had a fab birthday which I totally was not expecting in the least. No fantastical presents to speak of, no big hoopla, no balloons, nobody tortured me by singing to me. I had a great day with out all of that and here is why: My family and friends love me and they all showed it in their own unique ways. First off, my kids. I love my kids. They are so cute and do and say the cutest things! Last night Kate gave me her and Ella's gift because she couldn't wait til today. She was just so excited I guess. I got this awesome coupon that reads: "This is a coupon for...Cleaning the basement." I make them clean the basement anyway. I guess it will not be so painful knowing I will be redeeming a coupon to get them to do it.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Love, kate and ella<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> My home made card from the girls. Kate's specialty<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> From Ella. It is a picture of me pushing her in the stroller.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">How sweet. Could she get any cuter?<br />
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</div> My gift from Tyler was to be able to sleep in while he got the girls ready for Stake Conference. This is a treat for me because I always have to get them ready by myself since he is always at meetings. And of course Stake Conference means a Church Holiday for me! I love Church Holidays. The girls and Tyler cleaned up the house for me after wards and we headed out to my parents for dinner. My Mom got me some cute little things complete with a red velvet cake and a pumpkin streussal - whatever that is. It was good though.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJI0XVUZ3S4iPzlr08yZqAPB7jRf82CLnHhm0E20JhH7Nj38VQMzwkhrtFhHyROVg5nEap2VdqS-B90xUZGUn9_dmDIVJbJbRJnv4yiFW_F8ZCMSrLZHKuHF5V1Ey2GX58HSjsqw/s1600-h/DSCN2112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJI0XVUZ3S4iPzlr08yZqAPB7jRf82CLnHhm0E20JhH7Nj38VQMzwkhrtFhHyROVg5nEap2VdqS-B90xUZGUn9_dmDIVJbJbRJnv4yiFW_F8ZCMSrLZHKuHF5V1Ey2GX58HSjsqw/s320/DSCN2112.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Cute AND Yummy!<br />
</div><br />
We did not fly our kites at all this year so I decided that would be a great thing to do today for my birthday since I love to fly kites. We had some nice wind (the only time I like wind) and of course the kids got bored eventually leaving me and Tyler out there by ourselves. Tyler got one of the kites stuck in a tree and me being the Idaho girl that I am proceeded to climb the tree to get it down. Done. I rock at tree climbing. I have not lost those skills in the least.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW07rcrmD0NV3irauRDCP1aVtJ4k9GsXB9Wyzm5aP0itJqrlykcIpvDQF6IyLtoKoDGu1JQ97ipNa3aUucQuW5RD5P6dkRcZWWc1WIgLgojJYSPZgS_PeRucBGix_gogxs0Tx9Ig/s1600-h/DSCN2110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW07rcrmD0NV3irauRDCP1aVtJ4k9GsXB9Wyzm5aP0itJqrlykcIpvDQF6IyLtoKoDGu1JQ97ipNa3aUucQuW5RD5P6dkRcZWWc1WIgLgojJYSPZgS_PeRucBGix_gogxs0Tx9Ig/s320/DSCN2110.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Must....save.....the.....kite.....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGo0sFj5Wp0Yo_yosCsWo-B1tUF4dBi1Arjvc6e1pZ7qggxXNu1VBtLxU_DbEwRdt2Q4wCfbIBRwH_n8FmZKhUfvJBGF_WLf6nDQR5DhAE7qeL8S_wjM5xPe0wfg-b8oP1yaKwQ/s1600-h/DSCN2096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGo0sFj5Wp0Yo_yosCsWo-B1tUF4dBi1Arjvc6e1pZ7qggxXNu1VBtLxU_DbEwRdt2Q4wCfbIBRwH_n8FmZKhUfvJBGF_WLf6nDQR5DhAE7qeL8S_wjM5xPe0wfg-b8oP1yaKwQ/s320/DSCN2096.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeO2oFOKS1ZMF0oPG5ld2h6FYTrTcgw3mOgkalLxNOPv1leoY0V1586TFBR2UVPAyh_le8fBEQz5lk2nhwQraQj78Q2pK2Dj2By14y6v6BiDDmCXiqH8z_dqmCELEc06i8o3rDg/s1600-h/DSCN2103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeO2oFOKS1ZMF0oPG5ld2h6FYTrTcgw3mOgkalLxNOPv1leoY0V1586TFBR2UVPAyh_le8fBEQz5lk2nhwQraQj78Q2pK2Dj2By14y6v6BiDDmCXiqH8z_dqmCELEc06i8o3rDg/s320/DSCN2103.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had lots of other treats and happy birthdays from friends and neighbors to make my day a good one as well. When we got home from my parents, this was taped by the front door.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3Bo0nvQ68ZHjN_54k7Z5fBjkm7oOuhmJhZrjS1bDIU3hsC-noFA82ExPNoefY9Xyy7slV5yAeWF_uPy-J0sBCpCw7U8lwilHe3cioPlVr0vMqNjuLWxHE6SfB2Hf0vLNPnJztg/s1600-h/DSCN2126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3Bo0nvQ68ZHjN_54k7Z5fBjkm7oOuhmJhZrjS1bDIU3hsC-noFA82ExPNoefY9Xyy7slV5yAeWF_uPy-J0sBCpCw7U8lwilHe3cioPlVr0vMqNjuLWxHE6SfB2Hf0vLNPnJztg/s320/DSCN2126.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> It really is the little things that make me happy. Tyler gave me a hug and told me he hoped I had had a good day and he was sorry that it wasn't more. It could not have been more. It was awesome. <br />
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</div>Rochellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10512647558298436922noreply@blogger.com3