tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77972953578834431452024-03-14T10:13:01.149-04:00This and ThatMelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.comBlogger467125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-83291822273829732882018-01-04T00:42:00.001-05:002018-01-04T00:45:22.616-05:00Oh, hello! Do you have friends that you do not see very often (sometimes for years), but somehow when you finally get together, it's like no time has passed at all? Consider this blog one of those friends. Can you hear its strong New England accent? So, how ya doin'? How's the kids? How's your fatha? How is your motha? Yada, yada...<br />
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Today, I am going to share part of a writing project that I am sloooooooowly working on. It's kind of a personal memoir meets stream of consciousness fiction. Your candid, honest feedback is much appreciated.<br />
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Hugs,<br />
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Melissa<br />
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Introduction<br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I heard it said once that we are the sum of our life experiences-be they positive or negative. Like life is one gigantic number line and we move forward and backward on it. A bunch of negative 2 plus positive 5 experiences until we arrive at a final sum. I guess I get that, but really, I hate math. It just sucks. Life, though, life doesn’t suck. </span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The Tempo of Life</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">July 4, 1972, Central Park, NYC - The swell of her belly, nine months in the making, gives nod to the swell of humanity gathering together in the park. Contracting, relaxing, quickening towards the celebration of independence. The air is thick with patchouli and pot, full, heavy, and almost tangible with earthy potential like her bosom, poised and ready to nurture new life. He runs his fingers through her straight brown hair down to her waist and enjoys the the fullness of the miraculously stretched stomach. The excitement builds to a crescendo as fireworks flicker and rocket into the air. Blinding and thunderously bombastic. Her baby girl awakens head down in the womb, startled into curiosity by the sudden cacophony. She kicks, squirms, no room to turn. Boom, kick, boom, kick. The cadence, the tempo of life is now upon her and her and him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">This Ain’t no Country Club, This Ain’t no Disco Either</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">If you are reading this book, you are going to get to know about some of me. The most important thing that you should know about me is that I detest onions. They are the work of the devil. In fact, I am pretty sure that the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden was an onion. Another thing that you should know about me is that my mother is Italian. She cooks with onions often. She also cooks with mushrooms and tomatoes which my younger sisters hate. Basically, every ingredient my mother cooks with, someone in our family has a problem with. So to save her sanity, my mom tells us to be quiet and eat. I appreciate my mom’s “this ain’t no country club, this ain’t no disco either” philosophy on feeding her family. And as much loathe onions, I believe that they provide us with a metaphor for life. Onions have many layers and often make you cry. Life has many layers too. And life can make you cry. Sometimes often. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I Lost the Plastic Family in an Avalanche</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">My first memory is a curious one. My recollection is a bit fuzzy, but I like to think that it goes something like this: I am barely three years old and it is snowing outside. Fluffy, sparkly snowflakes are falling from the sky. I am a tiny bundle of snow suit and gloves deliriously digging with a giant silver serving spoon from our mustard yellow kitchen in the mound of fresh snow that has accumulated in the courtyard of our Englewood, New Jersey apartment building. Fresh white snow coupled with some of my most treasured toys some small plastic people from my dollhouse - a kid’s nirvana. Okay, it’s a rosy set up right? But I am not sure how accurate the set up truly is. What I do remember is a losing that dang plastic family in the snow pile. That is the overwhelming memory that stands out to me. Losing some plastic people in a make believe avalanche, desperately digging to find them, and subsequently losing it. Full on toddler wailing and gnashing of teeth for the lost plastic family. I may not have gotten the set up for the memory correct, but it’s close enough and definitely a prophetic set up for what would follow in life. Plastic families get lost in the snow pile, real families get lost too in the piles of life. The good news is that every winter has a spring and what once was lost, can be found. </span></div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-72952563865607839682015-12-11T11:51:00.001-05:002015-12-11T11:51:52.524-05:00Wish List Gone WildThe funny thing about asking your kids for their Christmas wish list is that they will wait until the last second to give it to you and when they do...BOOM...you get the ultimate request...A REPTILE! <div><br></div><div>Me: "Umm, NO!"</div><div><br></div><div>Them: (Yes,the request was plural. They totally ganged up on me.) "<i>Pleeeeeease!"</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>Me: "Reptiles do not make good pets."</div><div><br></div><div>Monkey 1: "Bearded Dragons make great pets! (Proceeds to remind me that Bob, the Bearded Dragon class mascot, helped him with his math. </div><div><br></div><div>Exhibit A:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDNFzxnYYXOlLzFBBO9KLGVpAW2bVG3ep0GyaWDZcxq_5yRQObHQB7FcaJ6yTqvjULiF625DptXA1B9SGXWgU7hPxOZoMiDQlrHbD4knbiUSJRD5aVTlVNDNyBeX04Xnwtar_wRYf8L4f/s640/blogger-image--1448129719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDNFzxnYYXOlLzFBBO9KLGVpAW2bVG3ep0GyaWDZcxq_5yRQObHQB7FcaJ6yTqvjULiF625DptXA1B9SGXWgU7hPxOZoMiDQlrHbD4knbiUSJRD5aVTlVNDNyBeX04Xnwtar_wRYf8L4f/s640/blogger-image--1448129719.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><div><br></div><div>Dang it all, Bob!!! Why do you have to be all cutesy and helpful! </div><div><br></div><div>Exhibit B: </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgur8DJnl8UnFibvKvMywleq_2UQrb1wsJ8iVsrdj2Qe7LWIBxzOjoAQivw2v7zynFHGuhySvChGjaMB8smXf-lgYufGc2RxrcsHTvkCBP9kkWgfGLEatMwOKc3r-GVN1Po-He3DMUNWfl1/s640/blogger-image--168971736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgur8DJnl8UnFibvKvMywleq_2UQrb1wsJ8iVsrdj2Qe7LWIBxzOjoAQivw2v7zynFHGuhySvChGjaMB8smXf-lgYufGc2RxrcsHTvkCBP9kkWgfGLEatMwOKc3r-GVN1Po-He3DMUNWfl1/s640/blogger-image--168971736.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">-----------------------</div><div><br></div><div>Me: "We have a dog. We don't need another pet to care for."</div><div><br></div><div>Them: "Her breath smells like death from eating cat poop out of the litter box. </div><div><br></div><div>Me: "There are no words."</div><div><br></div><div>Exhibit C:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PDxY3k96tl9SsiaAetf_7u_SRtpmGwoZE0m7vm5Z3RfbBXcQDCvMyiQRI5TZDxpoI-j011WDyMyOvw51eTJH4wbynMxh3j7bCriw3dS65IabNPF369LYTQaM-SCxITVf13mGx1KoWmvb/s640/blogger-image-341423657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PDxY3k96tl9SsiaAetf_7u_SRtpmGwoZE0m7vm5Z3RfbBXcQDCvMyiQRI5TZDxpoI-j011WDyMyOvw51eTJH4wbynMxh3j7bCriw3dS65IabNPF369LYTQaM-SCxITVf13mGx1KoWmvb/s640/blogger-image-341423657.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>Just be glad this isn't a scratch and sniff picture or you would want to run away. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjRydtR14RNLlsf-UVoJ2qQmGaZSipLJLdCOXj_khBa0Ln70HcOvySbA42bseA4RokhNex55JmNm9IqRxiVfUUqTM8mAKknNqAxDEij9XckFiZWax-S14P0d9soUQfkETpnCFY2qNz-TEP/s640/blogger-image-1824692392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjRydtR14RNLlsf-UVoJ2qQmGaZSipLJLdCOXj_khBa0Ln70HcOvySbA42bseA4RokhNex55JmNm9IqRxiVfUUqTM8mAKknNqAxDEij9XckFiZWax-S14P0d9soUQfkETpnCFY2qNz-TEP/s640/blogger-image-1824692392.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Tink: "Hey kids! Where are you going?"</div><div><br></div><div>Kids: "Where the air is fresh and clear of your fishy, death breath!"</div><div>-------------------------</div><div>Me: "We have a cat."</div><div><br></div><div>Them: "If she's not sleeping, she's trying to get outside to have adventures."</div><div><br></div><div>Exhibit D:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8KCnqLO73Csm40l1hXqYNX6XDn6qvBYHUm0VkZmlDt-xsHI_d6IWYTnBCXo06sr7kUKevlrK6_L5eMeuMz_oWSq6ix1xsLi3VJ1IF62LutbokTlzlsvoyU1NFlLjIYd1VG8uzbzabP_7/s640/blogger-image--1271539233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8KCnqLO73Csm40l1hXqYNX6XDn6qvBYHUm0VkZmlDt-xsHI_d6IWYTnBCXo06sr7kUKevlrK6_L5eMeuMz_oWSq6ix1xsLi3VJ1IF62LutbokTlzlsvoyU1NFlLjIYd1VG8uzbzabP_7/s640/blogger-image--1271539233.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Exhibit E: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0R4D0kbLxvMnSbrGfpS5W4R9oaRwxgLrqwB6QuAQoJef-kPX46TSgaJ0DlNBmiWVnFihOB6JdldVT-40EZ_I-25PWfNMQ_mc3vZuKXHgix25Kj9hRdhJmC7XcbbtMMAdbhPXKCK1TFrz/s640/blogger-image--405477379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0R4D0kbLxvMnSbrGfpS5W4R9oaRwxgLrqwB6QuAQoJef-kPX46TSgaJ0DlNBmiWVnFihOB6JdldVT-40EZ_I-25PWfNMQ_mc3vZuKXHgix25Kj9hRdhJmC7XcbbtMMAdbhPXKCK1TFrz/s640/blogger-image--405477379.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div><br></div><div>Me: (Thinks to self) "Sounds like a perfect plan to me." (Actually says) "That's just what cats do."</div><div><br></div><div>---------------------</div><div>Them: "We <i>really </i>want a Bearded Dragon or a Lemon/Lime Gecko. They are so cute."</div><div><br></div><div>Me: Silently screams from within, then says, "Who is going to take care of these wild beasts?"</div><div><br></div><div>Them: "We will!"</div><div><br></div><div>Me: "Who is going to feed them?"</div><div><br></div><div>Them: "We will!"</div><div><br></div><div>Me: "Who is going to clean up their poop?"</div><div><br></div><div>Them: "Tink will!"</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtemsmIzu0KnWXwX4BlV9g6pJhe5JRDQxABcrvXrtQPjIr0sxOZOy9TqaHugR9H0CWAKVQuC3hQYEv_Myk_NCDaq8gjVgWgaIjQ5D_lUM9HA22Nctt07AXi0OmVG-MRS549vxsSHwBnww/s640/blogger-image--1999328541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtemsmIzu0KnWXwX4BlV9g6pJhe5JRDQxABcrvXrtQPjIr0sxOZOy9TqaHugR9H0CWAKVQuC3hQYEv_Myk_NCDaq8gjVgWgaIjQ5D_lUM9HA22Nctt07AXi0OmVG-MRS549vxsSHwBnww/s640/blogger-image--1999328541.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>Help,</div><div><br></div><div>Melissa</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-52995454446260870132015-11-29T20:55:00.001-05:002015-11-29T22:30:13.789-05:00Dear Kelsey<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">One week has passed since that joyous moment you when became Mrs. Lehman! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbspmAS2cvOU9vvst6Kx83lbYHOnCGvPxevMOeCCvrAM1tEKhIbSACoGM48s1z5pPAk3IMZUs7mj3ullS_L84l00GwkMXz2rOqwXEGG3xQI5xJjbqxwK1OeFkRf7Xu65ibS57UpppxTs6/s640/blogger-image--1245472135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbspmAS2cvOU9vvst6Kx83lbYHOnCGvPxevMOeCCvrAM1tEKhIbSACoGM48s1z5pPAk3IMZUs7mj3ullS_L84l00GwkMXz2rOqwXEGG3xQI5xJjbqxwK1OeFkRf7Xu65ibS57UpppxTs6/s640/blogger-image--1245472135.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You were such a beautiful bride! Your loveliness filled the room. Watching Alex's face as he saw you walking down the aisle on your brother's arm was truly a sacred moment. Such love! I will never forget it! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXhC6PnKfeiyPWFCAoZR8j4Wa2s-a56XR5dt0YVAfjedwRWC_Q-vus5ql5D2tS5Bh-o8G-HqJv3dFA7Ge-E4BaEoL9UoENbXJ2CTf9om-zqH9hjlRGg_j4YC1hhjyRlMXV0ZBdEXE5uz_W/s640/blogger-image--194655430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXhC6PnKfeiyPWFCAoZR8j4Wa2s-a56XR5dt0YVAfjedwRWC_Q-vus5ql5D2tS5Bh-o8G-HqJv3dFA7Ge-E4BaEoL9UoENbXJ2CTf9om-zqH9hjlRGg_j4YC1hhjyRlMXV0ZBdEXE5uz_W/s640/blogger-image--194655430.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As you promised your love and devotion to each other and worshipped God together, I thanked God that He brought you into our son's life and into our lives. You are a precious gift- a pearl that we have prayed for since Alex was very young. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVv2BzrBcmNks026yBBfHHJbrdTf5ghsNBkhVoxNovOah9P01coGh63ThSoBAI_M65W67136Xdl6H-93OLxnkSldVpIB0e8cbeKUb8LVHNBeCaSbGuML11gusqHRC1dax5cH8fsO9Nh8U/s640/blogger-image--148391053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVv2BzrBcmNks026yBBfHHJbrdTf5ghsNBkhVoxNovOah9P01coGh63ThSoBAI_M65W67136Xdl6H-93OLxnkSldVpIB0e8cbeKUb8LVHNBeCaSbGuML11gusqHRC1dax5cH8fsO9Nh8U/s640/blogger-image--148391053.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="entry-content jpibfi_container" itemprop="text" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As I watched you become our son's wife, I felt so proud. You are a very special woman. You have been through so much over these past four years, and through it all, we have seen you lean into Jesus. You love the Lord and that is the most precious thing about you. Your faith is strong, your hope is humbling, and your perseverance is inspiring. We thank God that we have the privilege to welcome you into our family. For many years, I have been the central woman in Alex's life, but I have handed that over to you with great confidence. I feel such peace and great joy now that he has you as his wife. You are a Godly wife and he is blessed. We are blessed. </span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAewrirbae3Rb2w0wHk2rR5-YDTXh3WLG-AMovoZcSRGqdUG8uN4UwId9tCV4MbxvrqKj2fBhANFFkBnLcVeL019huvThQeQRo3btTmxkWLFXw9uisv3zT2pnZX2RKjo_qTfacbDAsJ-o/s640/blogger-image-1778246199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAewrirbae3Rb2w0wHk2rR5-YDTXh3WLG-AMovoZcSRGqdUG8uN4UwId9tCV4MbxvrqKj2fBhANFFkBnLcVeL019huvThQeQRo3btTmxkWLFXw9uisv3zT2pnZX2RKjo_qTfacbDAsJ-o/s640/blogger-image-1778246199.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I want you to know that I don't expect you to be perfect because there is really only One who is perfect. He is the One who will be the center of your marriage. He will be with you every step of the way, creating the marriage that He has for you. There will be good times and bad times, but I/we will be here to cheer you on and pray for you. We love you both and we want to see you succeed! Please forgive me in advance and give me grace for my shortcomings and failures, because it's hard being a mom, and I will make mistakes. Let's make a promise to always say we are sorry if we need to and to trust God for His strength if conflict should arise.</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You know that old mother-in-law stigma? The one where our relationship is supposed to be filled with strife? Let’s kick that to the curb! We have common ground, because we both love Alex, and we both love the Lord. Family dynamics can be tricky. Communication can get jumbled, people can get their feelings hurt, and things can get messy. Let's always assume the best in each other, have a spirit of forgiveness, and love each other well. </span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_J1lGGN6tYlIg4VmgRNrTw9KKLFJddplOo5tWWS1KIXbkgAqOHTm9CLfW8P5l3-XtWVjTi8P4vpeZVHueq88a-a9O4Z57DTMPrXupZPY5PmT0W4Sy6YVxEo41-F8Y_ZyElh5ife6L9MY/s640/blogger-image-1198982388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_J1lGGN6tYlIg4VmgRNrTw9KKLFJddplOo5tWWS1KIXbkgAqOHTm9CLfW8P5l3-XtWVjTi8P4vpeZVHueq88a-a9O4Z57DTMPrXupZPY5PmT0W4Sy6YVxEo41-F8Y_ZyElh5ife6L9MY/s640/blogger-image-1198982388.jpg"></a></div><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You are a member of our family now. The moment that Alex kissed you for the first time as Mrs. Lehman, my love for you grew exponentially. You have a whole bunch of new family members who love you and care about you. I know that our house can be crazy and overwhelming at times, but I hope that you will always feel accepted, loved, and welcomed. </span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Welcome to our family Mrs. Lehman..,</span></font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0vg5Rhig9uwoUlLI5DqRoxWGId7c2yqkh_BErE-zBQH-8ZuTdplEzfO-VW8zJ6-jTYsAdRDzaIH9ie9EdUYEzXzfpKJIFZv0FjfWXyHgt6IoE_cB803v4163f6aKJMJL6ueCgUQOqMLi/s640/blogger-image--430943056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0vg5Rhig9uwoUlLI5DqRoxWGId7c2yqkh_BErE-zBQH-8ZuTdplEzfO-VW8zJ6-jTYsAdRDzaIH9ie9EdUYEzXzfpKJIFZv0FjfWXyHgt6IoE_cB803v4163f6aKJMJL6ueCgUQOqMLi/s640/blogger-image--430943056.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Love,</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Melissa/Mom</span></font></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 2.6rem; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p></div></div></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-64640310332556839362015-11-22T13:00:00.000-05:002015-11-22T13:00:34.167-05:00Yesterday and Today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday and Today</div>
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Dear Alex,<br />
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It seems like just yesterday you were born. Full of promise and hope. A new beginning. Our family's first chapter.<br />
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Today, you are getting married. Full of hope and promise. A new beginning. Your family's first chapter.<br />
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Just yesterday, you were our little boy and we held you close. We cherished you, protected you, nurtured you, taught you, laughed with you, cried with you, prayed for you, encouraged you, disciplined you, and by the grace and mercy of God and the help of so many raised you to become...<br />
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The man that you are today.<br />
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Just yesterday, we were blessed with two...<br />
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Then three...<br />
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Then four...<br />
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Then five...<br />
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Then six...<br />
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Today, we will be blessed with our seventh. Your sweet bride Kelsey Rae will become our daughter-in-love. She is one of our precious pearls. We have prayed for her since you were both little. God answered our prayers above and beyond what we ever imagined with Kelsey.<br />
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Just yesterday, your dad modeled for you what it means to be a man of integrity. He challenged you. He encouraged you to do what you love, to be a good steward of you time, money, and energy. He showed you what it means to cherish a wife and a family. To honor your mother and father. To be an amazing brother. To remember that people are precious and relationships are more important than anything else. To be a provider. To work hard and take nothing for granted. To be thankful everyday. To stand in the gap. To be a protector. To be a Godly man. To worship the Lord with all your heart, soul and mind.<br />
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Today, you are a young man of integrity and you have learned so much. You will continue to walk in your father's footsteps as you become a husband and one day, a father. We are so thankful for that!<br />
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Just yesterday, you found your love of music. Your passion. You heart song to God. You have led us in worship as a family, just like your dad has.<br />
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Today, you will led us in worship yet again during your wedding ceremony as you sing praises to God and your precious bride.<br />
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Just yesterday, you were building birdhouses and loving life.<br />
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Today, you will begin building your own home with the love of your life.<br />
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Just yesterday, you were hanging out with your best buddies. Cracking jokes! Having fun! Doing life together.<br />
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Today, you will get married with all of your best friends by your side.<br />
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Just yesterday, you were falling in love with the girl of your dreams. Having adventures. Getting to know each other's heart. Weathering the tough waters that life can bring. Learning to love someone more than yourself.<br />
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Today, you are marrying her. </div>
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And today Alex, we could not be more proud to call you our son. We know that the time has come to no longer hold you tight. It is time for you to fly. You have become everything we prayed that you would become and so, so much more. Your faith in the Lord is so strong. You are a beautiful human being. We are forever grateful to God for the gift that you are to all of us. </div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 15.8px;">This is the day that the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it. </span></div>
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We love you forever and we are overjoyed for you and Kelsey today!</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 18, 32); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #001220; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; text-align: justify;">"For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." Ephesians 5:31</span></div>
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Love, </div>
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Dad and Mom</div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-7715125579841426102015-11-16T19:57:00.001-05:002015-11-16T19:57:20.415-05:00Big Brother!Alex is our oldest child. He has always filled the role of "big brother" like a pro. He is such a good role model for his younger brothers and sisters. Alex was quite shy as a young boy and he has a more introverted personality, but when he is with his siblings he is is quite the opposite. They have always had so much fun together...<br />
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Dancing, singing, playing practical jokes on each other (like Operation Octopus!). <br />
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Playing tickle torture, video games, and board games. <div>
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He has shared his love of music with them. In fact, they were his first audience. </div>
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He has read countless books to them, with voices for the characters :-)<br />
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He has made time to sit and talk with them, to get to know them.<br />
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He has carried them to many destinations, pushed them in strollers for miles, and held them for hours.<br />
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He has encouraged them to be creative.<br />
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Alex, has always let his brothers and sisters know how much he loves them. </div>
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He has always been proud to be called their big brother. </div>
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He has been so patient...<br />
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So gentle...<br />
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So loving...<br />
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So in awe of them...<br />
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So protective...<br />
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So nurturing...<br />
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Alex always has been and always will be a blessing his brothers and sisters. </div>
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He has always been there for them and he always will. He is loyal.<br />
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He is kind.<br />
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He is full of adventure.<br />
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He is compassionate...<br />
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He is goofy...<br />
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He is affectionate...<br />
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He is brother....<br />
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And we love him so!<br />
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-90189379705146668112015-11-03T18:21:00.000-05:002015-11-03T18:21:42.497-05:00The Yellow-Haired Younglings <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-iUVSGLxr1sdFQP67bqQSNZT1spT_rxKCMNnPNP17FI35vendlJgiLt9WRoaoMuvOH83446bdnNhbdWk5uwZ9KPsuaypGR0-UcOBiemJd1YO9qpXJ0j8PMQWPG4eU94U9nQPOjZqwWsL/s1600/000001-R1-18_34.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-iUVSGLxr1sdFQP67bqQSNZT1spT_rxKCMNnPNP17FI35vendlJgiLt9WRoaoMuvOH83446bdnNhbdWk5uwZ9KPsuaypGR0-UcOBiemJd1YO9qpXJ0j8PMQWPG4eU94U9nQPOjZqwWsL/s400/000001-R1-18_34.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our wedding day.</td></tr>
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Alex and Amanda were very young when Pete and I got married. We wanted to make them feel special and start making family memories right from the beginning, so we took them on a honeymoon!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex and Amanda greeting us when we returned from our honeymoon. </td></tr>
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We went to Tampa and enjoyed a long weekend at the Florida Aquarium and Busch Gardens. </div>
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I loved the kids' enthusiasm as they danced down the streets and splashed in the water. Their matching rainbow dolphin outfits were the cutest. Remember, it was the 1990's and matching rainbow dolphin outfits were so in then. Pete and I even considered wearing ours that day ;-)<br />
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We played hard each day. Amanda usually conked out mid-day, but Alex was ready to go!<br />
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Alex and Amanda became big time Veggie Tales fans that weekend after we watched our first episode. They belly laughed all throughout "The Fib From Outer Space." Those little faces! Rosey-cheeked and out of breath from laughter. I started calling them Yellow-Haired Younglings that weekend - a term of endearment that has lasted longterm and been shared with younger siblings.<br />
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Alex was a huge orange juice fan during those early days. First thing in the morning, he asked for his cup of O.J.. Amanda loved apple juice and sneaking bites out of sticks of butter from the refrigerator.<br />
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The Florida Aquarium became an instant family favorite. We have returned there many times over the years.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original Yellow-Haired Younglings<br /><br /></td></tr>
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I love remembering these times with the kids. We started many traditions in those early days that we continue to enjoy now. I hope some of those traditions are carried on to our future grandchildren. Way, way in the future grandchildren ;-). </div>
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Hugs, </div>
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Melissa<br /><br /></div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-18955449176359224202015-10-14T23:26:00.002-04:002015-10-15T09:12:10.651-04:00A Little Slice of Heaven<div>
As Alex, our oldest child, prepares to get married in a little over a month, Pete and I are looking through so many pictures, sharing so many memories, and joyfully reminiscing...<br />
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Every Friday at noon, the smell of fresh baked pizza wafted through the air at the Montessori school that I worked at as a speech therapist. The picnic tables were packed with preschoolers and young elementary-aged students sipping on Capri-Suns and enjoying the cheesy, greasy pizza goodness. Those Friday pizza lunches were the best because I got to pause my work day and sit with the preschoolers. Such a funny crowd those kids!<br />
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My lunch time conversations with Alex always cracked me up. We mostly talked about V. R. Troopers and Power Rangers. Actually, since he was a wee lad and couldn't say his "r's" or "l's" at that time, we talked about "B. Aw Twoopaws" and "Powa Wangaws", and my heart just melted like mozzarella cheese. Pete and I were engaged by that time and I was really blessed to be able to have those special lunches with my future son. After lunch, I would go to Amanda's classroom and rub her back as she drifted off to sleep on her naptime cot with her bunny blanket in her hand and her thumb in her mouth. Oh, such sweet times and cherished memories! </div>
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P.S. For some reason, pizza has always been a special go to family meal for us. The first date that Pete and I took Alex and Amanda on was to get pizza. That first date was a little slice of heaven! 🍕🍕🍕</div>
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We ate pizza, got stickers out of the gum ball machine, went to the mall and rode the kiddie train a hundred times (all crammed in together), and went to the Disney store. Good times!</div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-33489573039469209092015-10-13T16:11:00.000-04:002015-10-13T23:16:48.906-04:00Boppsey Twins, Bird Voices, and Bonfires<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex and his lovely bride-to-be, Kelsey</td></tr>
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Our oldest son, Alex, is getting married in 40 days!!!<br />
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Holy-Hotdogs-How-Did-That-Happen?!?<br />
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Just yesterday he was asking Pete to tie his shoes during the middle of our wedding ceremony. Time flies when you are tying shoes...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stopping to tie Alex's shoe during our wedding ceremony.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our original Yellow-Haired Younglings<br /></td></tr>
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Please excuse me over these next 40 days as I talk about our Alex a bit (a lot). After all, he was our original Yellow-Haired Youngling. </div>
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I used to be a speech therapist at the preschool that Alex attended, and since I worked with some of his classmates, I met Alex before I even met Pete.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex and Corey</td></tr>
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Alex and his cousin Corey were like the Boppsey Twins on the playground. Both blonde, about the same height, ENDLESS energy! They could often be found on the top level of the wooden fort in the play yard. There they sat plotting and planning their next lizard catch, new ways to freak out the girls in their class, and comparing farts to burps. They also created a whole new way of communicating up in that fort. They began to use the most obnoxious sounds, that we affectionately dubbed "The Bird Voice". It drove the teachers nuts! It drove us parents bonkers! At school, at home, during family get togethers-they used "The Bird Voice" constantly. At one point, we actually had to ban "The Bird Voice" in order to preserve our sanity. Then they just moved on to other crazy cousin antics, like flushing Hot Wheels cars down the toilet and burning holes in their clothes around the family bonfire. </div>
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Ahhh memories...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These two...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Firestarters!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those teeth though...#chiclets</td></tr>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-10122102847530705192015-07-01T22:07:00.001-04:002015-07-01T22:21:07.782-04:00A Rose By Any Other Name is Still a Rose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Right up front, I just want to say that this post is not meant to be devisive. I truly believe that the opinions expressed on this blog are my very own. No Toms, Dicks, or Harrys need be offended, these are simply my musings. To each his own, what's good for the goose is not always good for the gander, and so on and so forth, blah, blah, blah...<br />
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I have been a parent for 18 years now. It has been the BEST job I have ever had. Really, there has been nothing like investing in the lives of our children, all six of them. Watching them grow and change from day to day. Watching them meet physical, spiritual, emotional, mental, and social milestones. Hovering over them in seasons, letting them fly in others. Always praying for them, rooting for them, and sometimes correcting them when warranted. Being a parent is not for the faint of heart and I have definitely NOT "arrived". I still have much to learn and our children are some of the best teachers. <br />
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One of the most important lessons that our kids have taught me is that love has no boundaries. You can't place labels on love. It is such a profound concept, a precious endless commodity. Being a parent places you in the very essence of love. Specifically, being a mother, brings love that is so intense and all-consuming that it is sometimes hard to discern where I end and where my children begin. I believe "mother love" is an "all-in" place of the heart and soul.<br />
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We have six children. Some were birthed from my womb. Some were not birthed from my womb. All were birthed in my heart. All have had my heart from day one. All have had my "mother love" heart and soul. All have been called my children. My sons and daughters. My cherished gifts from God. All have called me "Mom", "Mommy", "Mama", "Mother", "Madre". None have called me, "Step Mom" or "Step Mother". It's that simple. Just like adopted children do not refer to their parents as "Adopted Mom" or "Adopted Dad". As a sister of brothers, who were adopted, I have always known my brothers as my brothers. As a daughter of a dad who didn't father me, I have always called my dad, "Dad". And the dad who fathered me was, "Dad" too. Both have always had my whole heart. <br />
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And I don't call my mother-in-law, "Mother-in-Law", she's "Mom" to me. I have two loving, moms, actually I have many "mother figures" in my life. You can never have too much "mother love", in my opinion.<br />
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Our six children are all brothers and sisters. There's never been "half brother" this or "half sister" that. They are wholly loved by each other. This is truth in our family.<br />
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So, I know there are social niceties that dictate social gatherings and often introductions come with labels, but in our family, love has these labels: Dad, Mom, Son, Daughter, Brother, Sister...Family. <br />
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Hugs,<br />
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Melissa<br />
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<br />Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-20066920532206722742015-04-21T23:17:00.001-04:002015-04-21T23:17:09.016-04:00Negative Nelly or Nancy or Ned. <div>
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1. Yoga intimidates me because, well, gas and also contorting into positions that promote the expelling of gas and all of that coupled with deep inhaling and exhaling. Inhaling...exhaling...inhaling...gas. Nope.</div>
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2. I'd rather scrub a toilet than ice skate. You can't break a bone or lacerate yourself when you fall in the toilet. Yes, I said "when" not "if". Don't ask...</div>
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3. I don't do dark places. My sister and I helped create that little phobia in our tween years as we watched horror movie marathons all summer long. Thank you Freddy Kruger, Michael Myers, and Jason (whatever-your-last-name-is) for contributing to my unnatural fear of that dark space under my bed.<br />
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4. Onions are evil little food ruiners. Leeks, shallots and chives are equally as guilty. Funyuns, that Bloomin Onion thing, and onion rings are foods from Hades. I once dated a guy who ate red onions ALL THE TIME!!!! Then, to add insult to injury, he would chew Big Red gum to freshen his breath. Because nothing is more attractive and aromatic than the fresh smell of onions and cinnamon. Mmmm...so fresh.<br />
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5. My feet are tactilely defensive. Even when my feet touch each other, it's so wrong. My feet can not, I repeat, can not be dirty, or dry, or sandy, or touched. And for the record, I won't touch your feet. I have a reoccurring nightmare in which I am Kung Foo fighting my way out of a nail salon with six ninja nail techs chasing after my feet with their pumice stones.<br />
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6. Hats off to those of you who can wear hats. Hats do not work for me since I have enough hair for ten people. Hats always look like they are going to launch off my head at any minute. T-minus 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 LIFT OFF! We have lift off of another failed attempt to contain a mane that needs its own zip code.<br />
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7. I just can't justify a power nap. If I'm going to take a nap, it is going to be a darn good one. None of this 15 minute crap. Nope. Bring on the 2 hour deal with full on drool and snore. I'm not playing.<br />
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8. Board games. I've tried and I just can't. Really, I am over feeling inadequate about this.<br />
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9. I make berry smoothies to stay healthy and all that I get is freaking seeds in my teeth. Then, for the rest of the day, I gouge my tongue on my teeth trying to dislodge seeds. It's exhausting and my tongue hurts.<br />
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10. Lipstick on my teeth. Constantly happens. My tongue is always running defense. I feel like a model in a Pearl Drops Toothpaste ad (If you are old enough to get that reference, then high five sister or brother).<br />
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Hugs,<br />
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Melissa<br />
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-29747697530653321242015-03-20T00:17:00.003-04:002015-03-20T00:17:31.649-04:00Now That's Tacky!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Creepiest picture ever!</td></tr>
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For me, it's all about the day in and day out stuff in life. You know, like when your 10 year old daughter very sweetly reminds you that her school uniform pants have "that hole in the knee" from her dramatic playground wipeout last week, and now it's 8:57 PM the night before school and you are up to your eyeballs in after dinner dishes and trying to remember the lyrics to "Owner of a Lonely Heart" for you insistent six year old who must be serenaded to sleep every.single.night and YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO SEW OR CARRY A TUNE!!!<br />
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But wait!!! Just wait!!!! You suddenly (by the grace of God) remember that the blessed "nectar of the craft world" is sitting in your utility drawer just waiting to be put on the front lines of your hole-y war. You reach into that drawer that hasn't been cleaned out since Reagan was in office, and you grab that bottle of gooey-goodness and squeeze, squeeze, bang on the top, squeeze again, curse the maker of the gosh-darn, micro-tiny, ever-clogged nozzle opening, and get the brilliantly desperate idea (isn't there a saying that goes, "Desperation is the mother of invention?") to use a wooden skewer to unclog that sucker. <br />
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And then, with a snippety snip of the ole kitchen shears, you proceed to perform nothing short of a miraculous transformation from pants to shorts. And to further prove your awesomeness as a resourceful mom (ahem, you could insert lazy or crazy here) you take that unclogged glue bottle and you glue the hem of those pants like nobody's business! Finally, you sit back and look at your masterpiece and marvel at the miracle that is Arlene's Tacky Glue.<br />
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Because that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I roll! Just don't ever ask me sing the correct lyrics to "Owner of a Lonely Heart" because that ain't happening ;-)<br />
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-897310816250504182015-01-19T08:22:00.001-05:002015-01-19T23:16:44.296-05:00The Cafe is Glad!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
And now, in order to get your week off to an amazing start, here is a thought provoking poem from a Japanese shopping bag. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrcxRhxiKIHc1QbDZhzU_SKfMgsSMUG3pg8-So7etZXBHuqitYhSi43ubUBBQEab1xPx9OhkWNcvKJlRyze0xK2GTMhkZFkFkm56cNhifmTogdI4dLXP-UY10Cj6PtDGEaw5w-p1b7nXP/s640/blogger-image--1571840673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrcxRhxiKIHc1QbDZhzU_SKfMgsSMUG3pg8-So7etZXBHuqitYhSi43ubUBBQEab1xPx9OhkWNcvKJlRyze0xK2GTMhkZFkFkm56cNhifmTogdI4dLXP-UY10Cj6PtDGEaw5w-p1b7nXP/s400/blogger-image--1571840673.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-56602103951328367692014-12-28T17:31:00.001-05:002014-12-28T17:31:45.661-05:00Intentionally Relational<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5NvmKwe6EVNx9jMGtRPpmHspiuuNtfGsK6bOAg0VyS33rfA7a5AHxRb5o4m8uasDXvp0UchnYXzwbI2KbF13b8apsSGBjSVMOq1OOSdiGRUZaVZAYQD1uAIe1ZIzBnz1_ueKCEz6owfH/s1600/blogger-image--1473066389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5NvmKwe6EVNx9jMGtRPpmHspiuuNtfGsK6bOAg0VyS33rfA7a5AHxRb5o4m8uasDXvp0UchnYXzwbI2KbF13b8apsSGBjSVMOq1OOSdiGRUZaVZAYQD1uAIe1ZIzBnz1_ueKCEz6owfH/s1600/blogger-image--1473066389.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Intentionally Relational. That's it. That's my "catch phrase" for the new year approaching. It's so much more than catchy phrase or lofty ideal. It is my heart's desire. My passion. I love people. I love nurturing heart connections. I love communicating openly, lovingly, and intentionally. It is not always easy though.<br />
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Have you ever felt misunderstood? Misrepresented? Misplaced in the grand scheme of life and love? Of family and friends? It stinks, it hurts, it really crushes if you are someone who really loves being relational. Someone who loves deeply, can grieve deeply when that love is not reciprocated or when that love is misunderstood. </div>
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Some people invest most of their lives communicating love to their family and friends. Actions often speaking louder than words. Parents experience this with their children. A parent's needs are often secondary to that of her children. The need for her children to feel loved, cherished, and protected is primal, a part of her innermost being. Spouses experience this as they row through life's waters together. Sometimes bailing out the boat and other times gliding down the stream with relative ease, but all the while communicating love and commitment. </div>
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This year has definitely held many amazing moments. So many celebrations have taken place in my heart and in the hearts of those that I love. Thankfulness abounds! If I were being very honest though, I would have to say that this year has also been a very heartbreaking year. I have felt misrepresented, misplaced, and above all misunderstood for quite some time now. I have done some serious soul searching to see how I can change this tide, how to navigate this stormy side of life that honestly caught me off guard. Maybe that is a problem in itself. Being "on guard" hardly allows for intentional, honest communication. Relationships suffer if walls are built up to shelter the heart. </div>
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So, although it may be "safer" to retreat into our self made shelters, are we really being relational? Are we sincerely seeking to intentionally connect our hearts with others even if we may be disappointed from time to time? Or even if we may be the source of disappointment from time to time? </div>
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Being intentionally relational is experiencing life on life with others. No holds barred. No barriers. Loving others where they are. Loving others for who they are. Believing the best about others. Asking the sometimes tough questions and COMMUNICATING in order to alleviate any false assumptions. Looking at the big picture. Being focused on someone's heart and not their flaws because really, we are all flawed. Above all, in my mind, being intentionally relational is seeking the very best for other people. Giving them our very true selves. The real us. No walls, no falsehoods, no judgements, no selfish conditions. Only love and life. That's my heart's desire. That's my passion. </div>
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Intentionally relational. That's my catch phrase for 2015. How about you? What is your desire for this new year ahead?</div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-54795984107703620482014-12-22T21:50:00.000-05:002014-12-22T21:51:16.895-05:00Unopened Gifts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdCE64wnvMPbmd6CzV6qy-uuf72__t19AyEuM02sqjhvzv8FeuFiBYBphztOhDuY2fe5dvIvD9FVo4sOp0iHB1YHTRcGyXZ1gKKa6ZqPqy_0ViL5HRvqw1DN88pIsKYkoSFOuQ6C-osYd0/s1600/IMG_4310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdCE64wnvMPbmd6CzV6qy-uuf72__t19AyEuM02sqjhvzv8FeuFiBYBphztOhDuY2fe5dvIvD9FVo4sOp0iHB1YHTRcGyXZ1gKKa6ZqPqy_0ViL5HRvqw1DN88pIsKYkoSFOuQ6C-osYd0/s1600/IMG_4310.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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The gifts were already open. The long dreamed of toy kitchen sat staring blankly, oven door open in a silent scream, plastic food chewed. Shredded wrapping paper, busted game pieces, and crushed ornaments littered the living room floor. The tree tilted awkwardly toward the broken sliding glass door as if it were trying desperately to escape the sad little scene. </div>
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Oh, that Christmas so, so long ago. Two tiny broken hearts amidst all those broken toys. Broken door, broken dreams, broken family...</div>
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Christmas may be the hardest time of the year for some people. All the "togetherness" of the season accentuates the loneliness of those who are grieving. Grieving the loss of a loved one, the death of a dream. Broken hearts, broken homes. </div>
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We can offer gifts to those who are lost and lonely by being there for them. Opening our hearts and homes to those who need love and comfort. We can share our faith, our food, our families and friends. So many unopened gifts...</div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-64763258166785860532014-10-23T14:21:00.001-04:002014-10-24T23:54:36.173-04:00One Day<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGj65mBK_Ade-rd1bDg1zXinDWazU4kBkqdW8Ta4L1FvwL9sROsYvfBvFLiLfS7w9-q5NhlG2xpSrXGkK2eOi5wGdFqs4rOD1F_oFn8A-JTIzhY5VD1SVqoPNQksxgF8EZsokzxVCd9XwC/s640/blogger-image--1348644780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGj65mBK_Ade-rd1bDg1zXinDWazU4kBkqdW8Ta4L1FvwL9sROsYvfBvFLiLfS7w9-q5NhlG2xpSrXGkK2eOi5wGdFqs4rOD1F_oFn8A-JTIzhY5VD1SVqoPNQksxgF8EZsokzxVCd9XwC/s640/blogger-image--1348644780.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>Wednesday, I participated in an inspiring photo journaling project called One Day. The One Day Project (#OneDayHH) was hosted via Instagram by one of my favorite bloggers, Laura Tremaine, of the Hollywood Housewife blog (www.hollywoodhousewife.com). <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVipC9fJ0pxalhjeMpiU81X4U54-RzN_pTueCcIXTVyf6SJ7qkhtZqTDdkoi0_MWxcYIA8Zpjm61ca4u9lGy9-KO2xZCKF_QIZvEpT1f_HSoB9fqiUhiFSmXX6rZcGsTLJQPLsDJiq3wdl/s640/blogger-image-1806108508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVipC9fJ0pxalhjeMpiU81X4U54-RzN_pTueCcIXTVyf6SJ7qkhtZqTDdkoi0_MWxcYIA8Zpjm61ca4u9lGy9-KO2xZCKF_QIZvEpT1f_HSoB9fqiUhiFSmXX6rZcGsTLJQPLsDJiq3wdl/s640/blogger-image-1806108508.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Pictures are one of my passions in life, right along with anything chocolate and peanut butter, coffee, and sleeping children. So, Wednesday I had a great time photographing many of the seemingly mundane aspects of our life. Here are some of the pictures and a few thoughts that I shared on Instagram at the end of One Day. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAi-bSfVxe6-pxEvKeUABdVm_jbDfQbBNL_gUngiulexUMoUC-LCZ6CyGakQ1veXPkiUEZwitcG_W1dMweCYjZrk7Epidls3lV9XkIytL5Chd5HSpZ1mYYYn1l_fXyRNY4x8NQcj_cRN8B/s640/blogger-image--518455036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAi-bSfVxe6-pxEvKeUABdVm_jbDfQbBNL_gUngiulexUMoUC-LCZ6CyGakQ1veXPkiUEZwitcG_W1dMweCYjZrk7Epidls3lV9XkIytL5Chd5HSpZ1mYYYn1l_fXyRNY4x8NQcj_cRN8B/s640/blogger-image--518455036.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrrf1I1V-u_aBNRZC_Pyo40ktDkc2IWlQR1ZxRp6TJs6CBfb_RRpcQI_ZhphkVgQEJifSJ0qhtasKAWMyA9LbhNk-UDLJNCV5td2pRkrRdviRf9mWQkZzd9LsBdSqm_plDCictFZ9hkTe/s640/blogger-image-2132756377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrrf1I1V-u_aBNRZC_Pyo40ktDkc2IWlQR1ZxRp6TJs6CBfb_RRpcQI_ZhphkVgQEJifSJ0qhtasKAWMyA9LbhNk-UDLJNCV5td2pRkrRdviRf9mWQkZzd9LsBdSqm_plDCictFZ9hkTe/s640/blogger-image-2132756377.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBNdp5LV3xXWzMzeqRAHn8Bg_-ZXEBtirDTrCHiEhx9uzDL9XK5txLu3AnLxVtK-MieAXDr1dilFJZcwSlgZHNhGOtHNRK0HLPF6ud6A535LpUcLd6EAJ36QHZFGqY-NQfSe2fWXONTNC/s640/blogger-image--1734359180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBNdp5LV3xXWzMzeqRAHn8Bg_-ZXEBtirDTrCHiEhx9uzDL9XK5txLu3AnLxVtK-MieAXDr1dilFJZcwSlgZHNhGOtHNRK0HLPF6ud6A535LpUcLd6EAJ36QHZFGqY-NQfSe2fWXONTNC/s640/blogger-image--1734359180.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHYDJaeiJSqSqQB8hBLlWxmxhTEWB0Yg5JwZVp43E1qKSzHM3OhnBmkEsc1hVjrx7KKAQ5vR1FZDnqrj92bC-XyeZtJG0E5njKQUDYo1nohvEhUe-tVcbiTbvQG9k3PMKcUqZz_m8qwAt/s640/blogger-image-546195809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHYDJaeiJSqSqQB8hBLlWxmxhTEWB0Yg5JwZVp43E1qKSzHM3OhnBmkEsc1hVjrx7KKAQ5vR1FZDnqrj92bC-XyeZtJG0E5njKQUDYo1nohvEhUe-tVcbiTbvQG9k3PMKcUqZz_m8qwAt/s640/blogger-image-546195809.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgw34XKwQnMdsA2GQ_YPzgYDt0lbdXphC8C1fLhoPs3dUrhILmeXOdYO8DdLUx7mciyEs-O5wytKBt_2bmTyHSeS9bZ-O8d9k_PCM9mZ1fsgIAy8QTtzjyYF46mmsm55vY1RYlDYIFeGJD/s640/blogger-image-1763661527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgw34XKwQnMdsA2GQ_YPzgYDt0lbdXphC8C1fLhoPs3dUrhILmeXOdYO8DdLUx7mciyEs-O5wytKBt_2bmTyHSeS9bZ-O8d9k_PCM9mZ1fsgIAy8QTtzjyYF46mmsm55vY1RYlDYIFeGJD/s640/blogger-image-1763661527.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div>Hugs, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Melissa</div><br></div><div><br></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-70399958978327245682014-09-08T18:56:00.001-04:002014-09-08T23:53:37.653-04:00Elvis Has Left the Big Box<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz60jfewIQQlPwg7OATCM57R1LsH-u6itcrs8Lp9T_zYOK-gSBxjzbQU10SeKTqqsb1iAf5zUDjNh46NTVR3jwDwfpxl4otHAZARIrvPX26ehgLnbIl_L48FIYgA5hGeYPeXGYd1-Pz-hq/s640/blogger-image--276427470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz60jfewIQQlPwg7OATCM57R1LsH-u6itcrs8Lp9T_zYOK-gSBxjzbQU10SeKTqqsb1iAf5zUDjNh46NTVR3jwDwfpxl4otHAZARIrvPX26ehgLnbIl_L48FIYgA5hGeYPeXGYd1-Pz-hq/s640/blogger-image--276427470.jpg"></a></div>This photo was found on www.biography.com</div><div><br></div>For years now we have shopped at the big box wholesale stores. 6 monkeys + two parents + people who are crazy enough to visit us + random animals = a hunka, hunka box store love. I mean, where else can you buy a case of Ramen Noodles big enough to feed a college student for all four years? <div><br></div><div>"Shopping" is actually the wrong verb. "Schlepping" is more like it. Anytime you go to a store to pick up lunch supplies and come out with a 5 pound jar of peanut butter, a six pack of sliced bread, a crate of bananas (or enough supplies to feed an army of Elvises or is it Elvi?) and a giant inflatable jack-o-latern you are schlepping not shopping. </div><div><br></div><div>And really? Who uses <i>that </i>much spray starch besides maybe an Elvis impersonator in Vegas? </div><div><br></div><div>But seriously, it's not all bad. Some gigantic quantities of certain products are actually helpful. Big box shopping has it's pros and cons. Let's take a look:</div><div><br></div><div>1. Pro: A half ton of liquid laundry soap? With mountains of laundry accumulating on the daily? That works for me. </div><div>Con: Lifting that half ton container of liquid laundry detergent to fill that tiny measuring cup makes me feel like a female body builder competing in a clean and jerk competition. </div><div><br></div><div>2. Pro: 1000 rolls of toilet paper at pennies per roll.</div><div>Con: Finding a place to store 1000 rolls of toilet paper upon bringing them home. "Hey kids! Forget Legos! We've got some toilet paper rolls for you to play with!" "And tonight, you can snuggle with them at bedtime!" </div><div><br></div><div>3. Pro: 50 boxes of whole wheat pasta. Yes! Spaghetti forever!!! </div><div>Con: Spaghetti Forever!!!</div><div><br></div><div>4. Pro: A 12 pack of Febreeze assures that your house will never stink. </div><div>Con : It could also assure you that there will be a hole the size of Texas in the ozone layer above your house.</div><div><br></div><div>5. Pro: 200!!! Now that's a ton of tampons! </div><div>Con: 200? That's also a constant reminder of your "special time of the month ". Heck, you could even do a an</div><div>advent-like count down calendar with with a tampon behind each numbered door leading up to "P-Day".</div><div><br></div><div>6. Pro: That 800 count of newborn diapers will be so useful...</div><div>Con: Until<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> your newborn out grows them by the end of the first week and you are left with 500 newborn diapers. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Ah, Big Box shopping! How I love and simultaneously hate you so. If it weren't for the double packs of Nutella I would have left you long ago.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Hugs,</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Melissa</font></div><div><br></div><div><br><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-73627730544674182822014-09-03T16:54:00.001-04:002014-09-07T10:32:08.371-04:00Faces<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQ0l-AiACN_adkAJxSh_rm0lVLX7Lse2WBCCfLAAF9btGXjVcr7dBDu1yMlWitHj8PoP0MrUCthoF3Z5FC_cimAjvBQrgPAL8bwX4MT-Q6wxzQWptcFd4isBDX-i6p0ZVGUGq7GJszMf_/s640/blogger-image--1783899988.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQ0l-AiACN_adkAJxSh_rm0lVLX7Lse2WBCCfLAAF9btGXjVcr7dBDu1yMlWitHj8PoP0MrUCthoF3Z5FC_cimAjvBQrgPAL8bwX4MT-Q6wxzQWptcFd4isBDX-i6p0ZVGUGq7GJszMf_/s640/blogger-image--1783899988.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Times when I make ridiculous faces:<div><br></div><div>1. While applying mascara (I look like I am about to sing in a demented opera.)</div><div><br></div><div>2. While spoon feeding a baby (I look a Goldfish burping.)</div><div><br></div><div>3. While tweezing my eyebrows (I look like a creepier version of "The Scream ")</div><div><br></div><div>4. While meeting someone or a group of someones for the first time (I look like my smile is plotting a hostile takeover of my face.)</div><div><br></div><div>5. While reading the menu on the wall at a fast food restaurant (I look like I am constipated.)</div><div><br></div><div>6. While smiling (My eyes disappear. It's all nose and refer to #4.)</div><div><br></div><div>7. While driving (I alternate between looking like a spider monkey- "Stay in your own lane!" and confused Asian woman - "What does that street sign say?" )</div><div><br></div><div>8. While concentrating (I purse my lips like a duck, but not the sexy duck face from selfies, which has always confused me because DUCKS ARE NOT SEXY!)</div><div><br></div><div>9. While confused (Hostile scrunchy forehead takeover of entire face accompanied by squinty eyes and flattened nose. It's like a Winston Churchhill, Margaret Cho, Mike Tyson mash up.)</div><div><br></div><div>10. While singing (please refer to #2 and #5)</div><div><br></div><div>11. While crying (Think Golam)</div><div><br></div><div>12. While waking up (Think confused mole. The animal, not the skin thingy which grosses me out)</div><div><br></div><div>13. While grossed out (Think Billy Idol lip curl meets wide-eyed Valley Girl)</div><div><br></div><div>14. While tired (I look like a Shar-pei. My facial muscles just give up, gravity prevails)</div><div> </div><div>Hugs,</div><div><br></div><div>Melissa</div><div><br></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-22224583378162859842014-08-20T19:03:00.001-04:002014-09-01T13:39:37.127-04:00I Read This Stinkin' Article and Now My Eyelashes are Flat<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW0uFQFxj07ECiYH97T1Sk0z2mG5c3j6rY4cH_-sAueriF5VaNi57pSW-RaU0j4DosHZH_IyQPZl62syUZQnDSwqo_SVQRbz6iMEciyVa80yBQxf1ww5mPWyirvS2_Xq9K7hsehWjMgWWs/s640/blogger-image--875578143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW0uFQFxj07ECiYH97T1Sk0z2mG5c3j6rY4cH_-sAueriF5VaNi57pSW-RaU0j4DosHZH_IyQPZl62syUZQnDSwqo_SVQRbz6iMEciyVa80yBQxf1ww5mPWyirvS2_Xq9K7hsehWjMgWWs/s640/blogger-image--875578143.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>I'm a researcher. I research. I research things like, "How to keep your house looking good if you clean it once a month or never?" or "If I eat ice cream for every meal, will I still be meeting the basic nutrition guidelines set forth by the FDA?" <div><br></div><div>Recently, I researched "How to apply your make up so that you look younger." That's when all heck broke loose! Did you know that as you age, your eyelashes lose their natural wave? That's right folks. Your eyelashes basically go flat! How's that for a bit of fun trivia on Labor Day? #gravity! #firstworlddrama</div><div><br></div><div>So, being the feisty and passionate person that I am about anything that might present itself as a challenge to me (or you could say that I'm slightly obsessive-compulsive), I have decided that I will not, I repeat, I will NOT allow my eyelashes to get lazy. I am on a quest. On a quest to find the ultimate gravity defying mascara. Please join me and give props to your favorite mascara here or on my Facebook page. Because really, flat eyelashes = no fun. </div><div><br></div><div>And if you're one of those Super Duper fortunate people that has curly eyelashes that look good without mascara, well, thank your mama, your daddy, and God because you are blessed. But do yourself a favor, don't read articles about "how to apply make up so that you look younger" because you might find out that as you age you also accumulate other types of facial hair. Oh yeah, those luscious curly eyelashes look great and all, but did you happen to see that straight wiry chin hair? </div><div><br></div><div>Hugs,</div><div><br></div><div>Melissa</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-24957081932000480552014-08-19T21:24:00.001-04:002014-08-19T21:24:10.008-04:00White Wolf Cafe<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxxV92YfUo_Cs6tUtls0BoCsf-5dIlRAQgZzb4vNcU5QWXC2aKNduzdx25p7XDhkknPSiNXLeqltlGbQ7WAtXbCPaEbYsO8J4SYUEAVlOvcVE_WH3JVYI6kNTLlEzp9hhyphenhyphenpEV7IqbFj9w/s640/blogger-image-1339772750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxxV92YfUo_Cs6tUtls0BoCsf-5dIlRAQgZzb4vNcU5QWXC2aKNduzdx25p7XDhkknPSiNXLeqltlGbQ7WAtXbCPaEbYsO8J4SYUEAVlOvcVE_WH3JVYI6kNTLlEzp9hhyphenhyphenpEV7IqbFj9w/s640/blogger-image-1339772750.jpg"></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>White Wolf Cafe is an eclectic eatery in the heart of the Ivanhoe Antique Row in downtown Orlando. Just about everything, from the swanky chandeliers hanging on the ceiling to the antique plates lining the china cabinets is for sale. The owner of Whitewolf Cafe will also buy antiques from his customers. The whole place is a feast for the eyes!<div><br></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EYODLt9k2aLIkI5d6xZjpjqvUZxQI8YFF4gATmRM0eVG4DS6dBsGlwBD9KFcMbCVl3jMs5aa8YHCGf7R5M4e-p7hhkpDaSBQYmsZfprouFmVapb_C2AwPci4GsO8xmnPf23GwlvkDslA/s640/blogger-image-940665437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EYODLt9k2aLIkI5d6xZjpjqvUZxQI8YFF4gATmRM0eVG4DS6dBsGlwBD9KFcMbCVl3jMs5aa8YHCGf7R5M4e-p7hhkpDaSBQYmsZfprouFmVapb_C2AwPci4GsO8xmnPf23GwlvkDslA/s640/blogger-image-940665437.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>But there's also a culinary feast that awaits you as soon as you walk into the café. Their breakfast and brunch has been declared one of Orlando's finest, and I am here to tell you that their truffle oil potato chips loaded with lobster and bacon are out of this world! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXXorZC9asbXnJf8CrVdsfd-C4hFydN8mKNwMAOD55OJlZ-uE-RFL4H-IFGQiNfBfIqQT_huWbGX3GfJmll8CG9dn81z_cEip6lE2qeV4n-JvOjLGIxSB2amapYiqEjUcgVtFwaH3-sDG/s640/blogger-image-1956243118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXXorZC9asbXnJf8CrVdsfd-C4hFydN8mKNwMAOD55OJlZ-uE-RFL4H-IFGQiNfBfIqQT_huWbGX3GfJmll8CG9dn81z_cEip6lE2qeV4n-JvOjLGIxSB2amapYiqEjUcgVtFwaH3-sDG/s640/blogger-image-1956243118.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNd3A8pPALvl_IYCINynetBEgOJ7yGiJXXqLenK0xVV_DBWrk-A35o32i1Jd6KOyq_TfTP57lCGJQ2pP-ISn7H2JWZ8oxXGt9E0ZCKdJDP7b_AK3FIqBEwvBjXAxnUgzKbRpbdugfzaCkX/s640/blogger-image--715772606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNd3A8pPALvl_IYCINynetBEgOJ7yGiJXXqLenK0xVV_DBWrk-A35o32i1Jd6KOyq_TfTP57lCGJQ2pP-ISn7H2JWZ8oxXGt9E0ZCKdJDP7b_AK3FIqBEwvBjXAxnUgzKbRpbdugfzaCkX/s640/blogger-image--715772606.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And bonus! All of the tables are made of reclaimed marble from the floor of the former Orlando City Hall. You know, the building that was featured exploding in Lethal Weapon? That's Lethal Weapon I not Lethal Weapon II or IV. And that's back when Mel Gibson was a hunk. Wait! Mel Gibson is still a hunk. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hugs,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Melissa</div><br></div></div><div><br></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-61545429125840140082014-08-18T13:25:00.001-04:002014-08-18T14:12:48.954-04:00School Has Started.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqggk6KdwA0DIkYNRtsUHydRqyLSxEKoXWSWbA-Yt3L-f7ZHhgfdpaf9sW2Lp_Lq5ba99cEmxXn0ImeGyK40RTF30MzxyWYWJPZ5KQtd4SOvjcL824ielmQejpz8XxczEqAKVZC8_a7FtN/s640/blogger-image-295285493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqggk6KdwA0DIkYNRtsUHydRqyLSxEKoXWSWbA-Yt3L-f7ZHhgfdpaf9sW2Lp_Lq5ba99cEmxXn0ImeGyK40RTF30MzxyWYWJPZ5KQtd4SOvjcL824ielmQejpz8XxczEqAKVZC8_a7FtN/s640/blogger-image-295285493.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>School has started. Uniforms replace bathing suits. Impromptu lunches grabbed between play dates have given way to lunch boxes planned and packed the night before (or frantically the morning of) school days. Summer light is fading and changing. Bedtimes are required not suggested. School has started. <br>
<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMzRKU7XRKkB2P10t4DVWc1Pbob2lJbMKhZCeoZw-1gxgrGMa4cox_0PpksQBBHcCtbk7WChaWHeNVyAlRtMnGBYbF_-VKxzQF_U5NOsWcAxGGdCJYL38VAHhjKh62itYzLwqqlaYHSOU/s640/blogger-image-307590964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMzRKU7XRKkB2P10t4DVWc1Pbob2lJbMKhZCeoZw-1gxgrGMa4cox_0PpksQBBHcCtbk7WChaWHeNVyAlRtMnGBYbF_-VKxzQF_U5NOsWcAxGGdCJYL38VAHhjKh62itYzLwqqlaYHSOU/s640/blogger-image-307590964.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div>
Homer and homework, Latin and loose teeth, new tennis shoes and Transcendentalism, Plato and play dough. A Kindergartener, a Fourth Grader, a Freshman, a Junior and a College Girl. School has started.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzdsc6Y6i7IK5tREhszfrjFLMsVbu2ixiNztq2brUoCVRHM-mODyqcehzivbGKzeYlAc9GIaeuhkO3rjTsVyfg4Gd5wRT7-EFzxrd5o6GgOki8lgKzW1sOnCj15WMDW61hgyXxYlthkKD/s640/blogger-image-134407051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzdsc6Y6i7IK5tREhszfrjFLMsVbu2ixiNztq2brUoCVRHM-mODyqcehzivbGKzeYlAc9GIaeuhkO3rjTsVyfg4Gd5wRT7-EFzxrd5o6GgOki8lgKzW1sOnCj15WMDW61hgyXxYlthkKD/s640/blogger-image-134407051.jpg"></a></div><br>
Has school started in your neck of the woods?<br>
<br>
Hugs,<br>
<br>
Melissa</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-56177559800416924272014-07-30T17:40:00.001-04:002014-08-02T22:08:20.250-04:00Kiss Me in New Glarus!<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWW31pier1XA8ymznMj7mWscbYeC9FJxU8T0F8zqf-u9A3yqVzFIwwgASdGCpWUcc6_PcPTuAt1YFYsiUOhVC0hunDID32svzJ8MZxuBbZB2ElMNW0wfT0NM6lW3daTPm_a-qJfEm_xLb/s640/blogger-image--598262536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWW31pier1XA8ymznMj7mWscbYeC9FJxU8T0F8zqf-u9A3yqVzFIwwgASdGCpWUcc6_PcPTuAt1YFYsiUOhVC0hunDID32svzJ8MZxuBbZB2ElMNW0wfT0NM6lW3daTPm_a-qJfEm_xLb/s640/blogger-image--598262536.jpg"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWW31pier1XA8ymznMj7mWscbYeC9FJxU8T0F8zqf-u9A3yqVzFIwwgASdGCpWUcc6_PcPTuAt1YFYsiUOhVC0hunDID32svzJ8MZxuBbZB2ElMNW0wfT0NM6lW3daTPm_a-qJfEm_xLb/s640/blogger-image--598262536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGBdHRlXy9aCjaUKKhF4FmO45x6SzQMJfqVJU3sO86l-qjqp6UpKJS6wLHwFhiLXo6wVR65cs3tE3k4g0rHz2L6dfXZjvpkN9n94Xr9zeDpP3FG2GIJ4TjxFaARbTCrmc0YLCBpDz06wP/s640/blogger-image-384887621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGBdHRlXy9aCjaUKKhF4FmO45x6SzQMJfqVJU3sO86l-qjqp6UpKJS6wLHwFhiLXo6wVR65cs3tE3k4g0rHz2L6dfXZjvpkN9n94Xr9zeDpP3FG2GIJ4TjxFaARbTCrmc0YLCBpDz06wP/s640/blogger-image-384887621.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div><br></div>New Glarus is a tiny Swiss town located in southern Wisconsin. We took a little day trip there. Pete's dad is full-blooded Swiss so the day proved to be fun! <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQdwiSSf5p4-tbZbIV7Lqhy7HEcTTJt8spw3kfADig8OXJszLsDbZt4JHoCiParNkwvHFMFctGglIJAaQXRd47tEnLq1e4E5l5I0IkyVNVnZ4dmjfh6rfhyphenhyphenimlFEJ4GFPCk28yqGDhgUz/s640/blogger-image-709351626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQdwiSSf5p4-tbZbIV7Lqhy7HEcTTJt8spw3kfADig8OXJszLsDbZt4JHoCiParNkwvHFMFctGglIJAaQXRd47tEnLq1e4E5l5I0IkyVNVnZ4dmjfh6rfhyphenhyphenimlFEJ4GFPCk28yqGDhgUz/s640/blogger-image-709351626.jpg"></a></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwuwM_rw47jUbYfzQsQLAIWMr1vhqOBAt83qsEOk8iNqIBamqSXWEgdnXTlKHBWaEYJ_W0sdEn0t0VJtW-tiBtJHCxBowQpdH0-TbY_h_I7OSW0xioOQbOnauX2AibtNzpzF4VSxS_ZhNd/s640/blogger-image-1673819428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwuwM_rw47jUbYfzQsQLAIWMr1vhqOBAt83qsEOk8iNqIBamqSXWEgdnXTlKHBWaEYJ_W0sdEn0t0VJtW-tiBtJHCxBowQpdH0-TbY_h_I7OSW0xioOQbOnauX2AibtNzpzF4VSxS_ZhNd/s640/blogger-image-1673819428.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>The highlight of the day was when we stopped and had fondue at the New Glarus Hotel. Did you know that Swiss tradition says if you drop your bread in the fondue pot you'll have to kiss the person to your right? <br></div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8uLmiPoEapMjN12Suujk8N_QEx3tRLpVHCR_9ct2PJYpAwiSupZQ0fsVHd_CXy07kkv_hJx6MRT8phKRTO_o6akrwmQRF8FznoxtJnVKZGWzfnvp8LbXYIN-1JYPIcY92cB_0POdAuFlC/s640/blogger-image-369648348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8uLmiPoEapMjN12Suujk8N_QEx3tRLpVHCR_9ct2PJYpAwiSupZQ0fsVHd_CXy07kkv_hJx6MRT8phKRTO_o6akrwmQRF8FznoxtJnVKZGWzfnvp8LbXYIN-1JYPIcY92cB_0POdAuFlC/s640/blogger-image-369648348.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><div>Let's just say that prompted some bread dropping :-)</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpXPCSM5wzD0XKoDM_VHoK8eZa58N9Tmwa70b1g90lABKJBl6pSUTw5l3fcIGUlKY-AO5m4dky09-st-qtbtUupzkB05vA2d5lJWNfPsVdgHP60SkhUubbBojAhWyet2cJUjqa4PR4dL_/s640/blogger-image--1130873621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpXPCSM5wzD0XKoDM_VHoK8eZa58N9Tmwa70b1g90lABKJBl6pSUTw5l3fcIGUlKY-AO5m4dky09-st-qtbtUupzkB05vA2d5lJWNfPsVdgHP60SkhUubbBojAhWyet2cJUjqa4PR4dL_/s640/blogger-image--1130873621.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPW7mPCOc6tXd2Jd5X-VD9IY0CQZ3BybIVK1UuYCmxOESBfeuWwrYsNLkQ_eRDdSVO-fHkbiGtFisKOK4NvTMem2YX7RBTtqWJZEvoorbZ3Vm6tGY1qhNPqRVcFWD-kc2P_u1vg270aCI/s640/blogger-image--481488177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPW7mPCOc6tXd2Jd5X-VD9IY0CQZ3BybIVK1UuYCmxOESBfeuWwrYsNLkQ_eRDdSVO-fHkbiGtFisKOK4NvTMem2YX7RBTtqWJZEvoorbZ3Vm6tGY1qhNPqRVcFWD-kc2P_u1vg270aCI/s640/blogger-image--481488177.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>Fun times!</div><div><br></div><div>Swiss treats, kisses, and lots of laughter made the day amazing!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXvRC6MsngYLlpjVDpJiRh8KaNX6BK3wUTsAbemj-WQV1nefP4YR0RprH7jZ_MOcWErWV4oUSZcOCEOaolp293Op8FmIhFxpKeMgpeT08H95GCfSX-hjUSjdbJUHTXcoGSq0QVVQomFgf/s640/blogger-image-1776722571.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXvRC6MsngYLlpjVDpJiRh8KaNX6BK3wUTsAbemj-WQV1nefP4YR0RprH7jZ_MOcWErWV4oUSZcOCEOaolp293Op8FmIhFxpKeMgpeT08H95GCfSX-hjUSjdbJUHTXcoGSq0QVVQomFgf/s640/blogger-image-1776722571.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Jq9L2M_gRXF30fJcxeaosW5YrH2INwK8pBTUkxu7Jx96sxcuvQMTGlP947L9o69S-E1xV6wedQGq6hRmoH-SCvolIgbP6ZjV_0YJx7N2zmeQ1s106GphyphenhyphensAny18ps8jlzFly9FXR8p9f/s640/blogger-image-766801477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Jq9L2M_gRXF30fJcxeaosW5YrH2INwK8pBTUkxu7Jx96sxcuvQMTGlP947L9o69S-E1xV6wedQGq6hRmoH-SCvolIgbP6ZjV_0YJx7N2zmeQ1s106GphyphenhyphensAny18ps8jlzFly9FXR8p9f/s640/blogger-image-766801477.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhN_gYIjj1zz2w2Bu2KQ4xw1IkNqrDRc2ROT6P9pkefLZfTb_d_NZu04ZGCF-TBo6zdwxAjnkZhiQfeMM6aiHnNhnBoExeWTWQTB6TEB4_4QIiEmhVOsmLzim4jY1t8GxuZkGljR74qYZ/s640/blogger-image-1170722632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhN_gYIjj1zz2w2Bu2KQ4xw1IkNqrDRc2ROT6P9pkefLZfTb_d_NZu04ZGCF-TBo6zdwxAjnkZhiQfeMM6aiHnNhnBoExeWTWQTB6TEB4_4QIiEmhVOsmLzim4jY1t8GxuZkGljR74qYZ/s640/blogger-image-1170722632.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hugs,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Melissa </div><br></div><br></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-57518853956832956632014-07-24T15:56:00.001-04:002014-07-24T16:19:04.206-04:00A Nod to NorwayThere is a special tiny town in Wisconsin that owes a corner of my heart. Stoughton! <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTbNnO5ehuIwAszOlySVCHIey8Nd_rxi4M69f3GgKTH7_PSoFBYUxx8rx7PqakSV9_WejdxZuiu2PfWdPxU-Bb36H7QbxCClx45DE9-m2VJPErBciZvSEtTkV4AZmQ43vt1ARELMphgpOY/s640/blogger-image-2101043309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTbNnO5ehuIwAszOlySVCHIey8Nd_rxi4M69f3GgKTH7_PSoFBYUxx8rx7PqakSV9_WejdxZuiu2PfWdPxU-Bb36H7QbxCClx45DE9-m2VJPErBciZvSEtTkV4AZmQ43vt1ARELMphgpOY/s640/blogger-image-2101043309.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Stoughton was founded in 1847 by Luke Stoughton, and settled by many immigrants from Norway by the early 1900's.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJmG1KztGANIXgKbDgn939FspVrGQJMDXGlDaqeFcc_vjfRdw9T6rNEHXqVsudyyk1Ez52IZkUYSOFSifuofKmxGMGKIFx7mhAQpcaGrMyBZr6-HnwToNnfD9cZv7kBpAZ8KIw9oi9VP3/s640/blogger-image--1887100000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJmG1KztGANIXgKbDgn939FspVrGQJMDXGlDaqeFcc_vjfRdw9T6rNEHXqVsudyyk1Ez52IZkUYSOFSifuofKmxGMGKIFx7mhAQpcaGrMyBZr6-HnwToNnfD9cZv7kBpAZ8KIw9oi9VP3/s640/blogger-image--1887100000.jpg"></a></div><br></div>I love the downtown shops and cafés that run from the opera house at the top of a hill all the way down to the Yahara River. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLC2Df-GxNQ2gPrlaw-mQbi5fjdZ9OIEZEUDiZEjIQ8m2J2jd8Jf7fI68M4HrrwDCQ13TejNePnJUD_1Ob-YNde5PqbJIpApEicjvaJFbam7kOEUi2E5fwgtKbfKQwtQQ6Uhlg1J5Jhym/s640/blogger-image--1775328382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLC2Df-GxNQ2gPrlaw-mQbi5fjdZ9OIEZEUDiZEjIQ8m2J2jd8Jf7fI68M4HrrwDCQ13TejNePnJUD_1Ob-YNde5PqbJIpApEicjvaJFbam7kOEUi2E5fwgtKbfKQwtQQ6Uhlg1J5Jhym/s640/blogger-image--1775328382.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7F8MdTji6Ox5BtWKKdGvudnGJw0NTmzVIJrL_fK4Kht7LnMb17xCzcHRerykld-ZSvTu_gxrFb3OYew64fHQf33ClVccApwnZPNhqzf-9PpxtwX-GfeS__7cDJnmGWMoSvbE-x53D7KVL/s640/blogger-image-413927313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7F8MdTji6Ox5BtWKKdGvudnGJw0NTmzVIJrL_fK4Kht7LnMb17xCzcHRerykld-ZSvTu_gxrFb3OYew64fHQf33ClVccApwnZPNhqzf-9PpxtwX-GfeS__7cDJnmGWMoSvbE-x53D7KVL/s640/blogger-image-413927313.jpg"></a></div><br></div>We love to sample (and buy) various cheeses and sausages from Cheesers (</div><div>http://www.cheesers.com). Spicy cheeses, stinky cheeses, chocolate cheese, and squeaky cheese curds! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDmI2gSe6jLNe8NetGYlDyCU6fsvPaZ5yuKKRh9vEEGKheJXR5TZDitD75R4FttblBRLUSt9_MH0BvOUtCI0HaXk950R_-KRoJlDyvzCoRRQYJU3HrG1LMzdQmGkPS7NzyCOiCuqYySZ56/s640/blogger-image-1521750668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDmI2gSe6jLNe8NetGYlDyCU6fsvPaZ5yuKKRh9vEEGKheJXR5TZDitD75R4FttblBRLUSt9_MH0BvOUtCI0HaXk950R_-KRoJlDyvzCoRRQYJU3HrG1LMzdQmGkPS7NzyCOiCuqYySZ56/s640/blogger-image-1521750668.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXqRrNmja_fij-d3Ail7SOP7AdI8GKpmMX5-DXduIhKymCc2vpYu8YA6oEdo9RuYxnWJdiSpk24bq8INXOdjcpRSn6j9d8hz1K1lFLvluYUb6nRyP4VAP6BP3uquFcO8pN1OLRA2iXf-l/s640/blogger-image--1173493610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXqRrNmja_fij-d3Ail7SOP7AdI8GKpmMX5-DXduIhKymCc2vpYu8YA6oEdo9RuYxnWJdiSpk24bq8INXOdjcpRSn6j9d8hz1K1lFLvluYUb6nRyP4VAP6BP3uquFcO8pN1OLRA2iXf-l/s640/blogger-image--1173493610.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Stoughton claims to be the birthplace of the "coffee break". Let me tell you, with made<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> from scratch eateries like The Koffee Kup and Fosdal's Bakery, I believe the claim! </span></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYNGSoJG5rJQQ0T120OViUuGpUAajosexgl-PjnPqPCnsyKpm6rN7dJuF2HNz_WBlZbV9Rjjf9eMunj_I3sVV8YxCQ5wygITiyt-8BgUQgma-YvxPNAkPcySeqLFRejcTapwl6Dh4e78I/s640/blogger-image--1609799971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYNGSoJG5rJQQ0T120OViUuGpUAajosexgl-PjnPqPCnsyKpm6rN7dJuF2HNz_WBlZbV9Rjjf9eMunj_I3sVV8YxCQ5wygITiyt-8BgUQgma-YvxPNAkPcySeqLFRejcTapwl6Dh4e78I/s640/blogger-image--1609799971.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH92alhrr33DK3TK8LBoSjuNoroaX1kJhSfmEioBAF-SGh1RaXl6RK0UJH8JOhWO-SeeZT2zo9hyphenhyphen3nKyB0JRM82QN_LYi9H3i4Zzj3_70iig9vTYQYygA3SzwS_TaA95M57d9iGGGUo6CQ/s640/blogger-image--526691730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH92alhrr33DK3TK8LBoSjuNoroaX1kJhSfmEioBAF-SGh1RaXl6RK0UJH8JOhWO-SeeZT2zo9hyphenhyphen3nKyB0JRM82QN_LYi9H3i4Zzj3_70iig9vTYQYygA3SzwS_TaA95M57d9iGGGUo6CQ/s640/blogger-image--526691730.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Everywhere you look in Stoughton there are nods to Norway. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgji_492pwlwrUmb_U6JTPqeRn9lYaUmIrGdnJ02j-P_rx-g8jeZE3OywDnkF99Ej_Jsf4o5wxsMxxGOwERDXR5cHiG2sC9hgKE0xzvGYBi-haBfwoYCRZrWRyS0693HZomtdW5HRvSupzh/s640/blogger-image-1482969329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgji_492pwlwrUmb_U6JTPqeRn9lYaUmIrGdnJ02j-P_rx-g8jeZE3OywDnkF99Ej_Jsf4o5wxsMxxGOwERDXR5cHiG2sC9hgKE0xzvGYBi-haBfwoYCRZrWRyS0693HZomtdW5HRvSupzh/s640/blogger-image-1482969329.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDnDyWkC55QQ63or0GsfolExoTgEy-cRsQeOxt4tMu1vs0GUqdboKdIE7gzp0LQLBCuqAFUVhJaDwnKe2OIOW8seRCFfdcJy0el0mnSXt7mxxJsJh2xAA9nD9DY4tHRQvQEV-BgkyDeys/s640/blogger-image-162999013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDnDyWkC55QQ63or0GsfolExoTgEy-cRsQeOxt4tMu1vs0GUqdboKdIE7gzp0LQLBCuqAFUVhJaDwnKe2OIOW8seRCFfdcJy0el0mnSXt7mxxJsJh2xAA9nD9DY4tHRQvQEV-BgkyDeys/s640/blogger-image-162999013.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Even the toy shop has a Viking at the helm! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrN93iS7rxnUao1vedKqPiw1awcpkkUH8YJzLZHUOPIWlrHn-Ux-Oe5cxngq2v0U7RgiDwvINRkbB9liJ6S-kFvumydQMoxNAPp-WpcoAnuW9FdGg15xrGI7QSPVidljYcdOax2_uWhPhK/s640/blogger-image-52214410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrN93iS7rxnUao1vedKqPiw1awcpkkUH8YJzLZHUOPIWlrHn-Ux-Oe5cxngq2v0U7RgiDwvINRkbB9liJ6S-kFvumydQMoxNAPp-WpcoAnuW9FdGg15xrGI7QSPVidljYcdOax2_uWhPhK/s640/blogger-image-52214410.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO28lyA4mTuGE3ArI-jK4BE_KYv6O-9fR07k2ZZ_HbuxDWHJseXacN0neQ07gS2Qf4exF8WzZvhBjfE_9cd7Ewt4LRbTrYICT-INr1wEeuYzpuUdK8ZXeqo-I-y0yQ-dTewPWIrYme3pcV/s640/blogger-image-468426845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO28lyA4mTuGE3ArI-jK4BE_KYv6O-9fR07k2ZZ_HbuxDWHJseXacN0neQ07gS2Qf4exF8WzZvhBjfE_9cd7Ewt4LRbTrYICT-INr1wEeuYzpuUdK8ZXeqo-I-y0yQ-dTewPWIrYme3pcV/s640/blogger-image-468426845.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div>We enjoy Stoughton every time we visit Wisconsin.</div><div><br></div><div>Hugs,</div><div><br></div><div>Melissa</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-41999349768633552202014-07-16T23:28:00.001-04:002014-07-16T23:28:11.958-04:00Little Monkey Takes Us on a Short Hike to Long Creek Falls!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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We are having some adventures here in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Hiking, tubing, and off road driving that will curl your hair real quick like (southern accent required for that last phrase).<br />
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Yesterday, we hiked to two waterfalls and a swinging bridge. It was so worth every step, every drop of sweat, and every bug bite to view some of God's magnificent handiwork. </div>
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Here is a short video with Little Monkey navigating his way up to a Long Creek Falls. Enjoy!<br />
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-30045784832841641792014-07-15T10:21:00.001-04:002014-07-15T10:22:55.375-04:00Pardon Me Sir, Is That The Blue Ridge Scenic Choo Choo?<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-b-ZNRyPuAtyNcYlwFEFMQ-VFBetqwhVvn6exAyh3zZRAB8VDztQCeGeG2tkNN9MLJTjiL-z-vK49lZBPjnEr4fjEz6ztMRjG3CllSnhY3S8HztaWoQk_ITvAz4W6DIHoHH4GH12obxkY/s640/blogger-image-748708909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-b-ZNRyPuAtyNcYlwFEFMQ-VFBetqwhVvn6exAyh3zZRAB8VDztQCeGeG2tkNN9MLJTjiL-z-vK49lZBPjnEr4fjEz6ztMRjG3CllSnhY3S8HztaWoQk_ITvAz4W6DIHoHH4GH12obxkY/s640/blogger-image-748708909.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div>Yes! Yes! <div><br></div><div>If you ever find yourself in the general vicinity of Blue Ridge, Georgia and you have some time to spare between eating fried apple pie, napping in the hammock, eating bisquits and sausage gravy, tubing down the lazy river, eating shrimp and cheese grits with Johnny Cake, and napping in the hammock, you might want to hop on the Blue Ridge Scenic Railroad. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcRzmH1uNYBton5JVFniCHHzfnGzxa1nYr3b66n15GoWQ-ax1h7NUwTDhiwBQxCYpugNsEI_NxHFi0y9rJMD91V0x2Y9j23ASRKk-U6Pm3uRi6OwrNyAgm3_HSvhRHFAUnJmqa3DK7Wmr/s640/blogger-image-199256088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcRzmH1uNYBton5JVFniCHHzfnGzxa1nYr3b66n15GoWQ-ax1h7NUwTDhiwBQxCYpugNsEI_NxHFi0y9rJMD91V0x2Y9j23ASRKk-U6Pm3uRi6OwrNyAgm3_HSvhRHFAUnJmqa3DK7Wmr/s640/blogger-image-199256088.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Little Monkey invited us along on his maiden voyage. The train has restored vintage passenger cars complete with restrooms, car attendants, and a snack car that served Moon Pies. We choose a closed car as opposed to the open air car because it's Georgia + summer = hot + big bugs.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjib6eQ1cBvTh0m-uJ3xFBqT-XCXRxD2SyOseKpaeJqRA_Yh99XUfOX-N_X3-V27USnLRAftxLS6mMY_YClt4M7luFbk0X80-FFSXEKXrm0kOKkU46cIGgVY4Z1QNpkPS562ZG8WVPuVqJS/s640/blogger-image-792757520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjib6eQ1cBvTh0m-uJ3xFBqT-XCXRxD2SyOseKpaeJqRA_Yh99XUfOX-N_X3-V27USnLRAftxLS6mMY_YClt4M7luFbk0X80-FFSXEKXrm0kOKkU46cIGgVY4Z1QNpkPS562ZG8WVPuVqJS/s640/blogger-image-792757520.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>As far as LM was concerned, we could have chosen pretty much anything as long as it had a window. He sat glued to that window the entire hour ride to McCaysville, Tennessee. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinzyjiGWCHYR2bDN5ldoUMTOoTikMKc-p3_692Yv_sM6WK4QsRlnpHq0H2iQUgI5PJcgK7UHzEjBVFEZF5HBVvV1HI_QDPf6xBAPJ2aVLyS4J1P2ppo60YWOY1_5xU3KUelV7WPxopD841/s640/blogger-image-1285985434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinzyjiGWCHYR2bDN5ldoUMTOoTikMKc-p3_692Yv_sM6WK4QsRlnpHq0H2iQUgI5PJcgK7UHzEjBVFEZF5HBVvV1HI_QDPf6xBAPJ2aVLyS4J1P2ppo60YWOY1_5xU3KUelV7WPxopD841/s640/blogger-image-1285985434.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I couldn't blame him for gazing out that window. The scenery along the way was lovely. We hugged the Toccoca River for most of the journey. The river changed its personality around each bend. One moment it was a gentle trickle over the red rocks that line its bed and the next minute it was all ripples and rapids. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ybpQSEM9pK5xJ_rRIFkhyphenhyphenuxxk7h7lJH3RfPSJ1FU1PbsU6mja-h767kKyYV9Kj05PT7aRb3pA99YBrVuz5rpuitK5-nM78wMN3-jb5eiC7IFsVBPirk3ngm6zamK72Ehl8LQStuzKNxv/s640/blogger-image-217311589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ybpQSEM9pK5xJ_rRIFkhyphenhyphenuxxk7h7lJH3RfPSJ1FU1PbsU6mja-h767kKyYV9Kj05PT7aRb3pA99YBrVuz5rpuitK5-nM78wMN3-jb5eiC7IFsVBPirk3ngm6zamK72Ehl8LQStuzKNxv/s640/blogger-image-217311589.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNdhf9I1fDy4ln-uL0oCbDnkaEbjJ1tFPA2rakKgHftzkMKfgD-4jwIuVRuFhUeXBmgn441apcCHdGkCinICOsOOLayOIW3iWDNFbnHPpHgUFWKJOaxnFwayJvCDprj7q7w42ACe0hagC/s640/blogger-image--887147476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNdhf9I1fDy4ln-uL0oCbDnkaEbjJ1tFPA2rakKgHftzkMKfgD-4jwIuVRuFhUeXBmgn441apcCHdGkCinICOsOOLayOIW3iWDNFbnHPpHgUFWKJOaxnFwayJvCDprj7q7w42ACe0hagC/s640/blogger-image--887147476.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div>The woods along the way were clothed in glorious shades of green. So beautiful! Our 9 year old Monkey Girl took the pictures of the woods! She did a great job! </div><div><br></div><div>We had an hour and a half layover in McCaysville, Tennessee where we window shopped, ate BBQ, drank sweet tea, and bought lots of homemade fudge. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GAlOA5CURSwXguNH95njNbKlDR-uuG_NuiN2peAivxDMo16_q1BVW-HZHRf1Vj1CnKwXyk8tCu_kqM_MtIUNVcHAxr51ezE70HDeMlUYNwCYG-GsePrbK27LzjijdmDuplxFmJG-usa9/s640/blogger-image--1783003499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GAlOA5CURSwXguNH95njNbKlDR-uuG_NuiN2peAivxDMo16_q1BVW-HZHRf1Vj1CnKwXyk8tCu_kqM_MtIUNVcHAxr51ezE70HDeMlUYNwCYG-GsePrbK27LzjijdmDuplxFmJG-usa9/s640/blogger-image--1783003499.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYhXdGNCetT9w7GhxwmKJYbmnnQ6se21yGZRVDHTXACz1Cy0m8aZg8S-Ys-S5S5tlGZA-JCPurI4fryz4V0hnL7-vMx1q_9kvTj4DpdWv4yn69kP_QTuqoOk8HC06ssYG-Rd_q_PB4SKa/s640/blogger-image-1015944531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYhXdGNCetT9w7GhxwmKJYbmnnQ6se21yGZRVDHTXACz1Cy0m8aZg8S-Ys-S5S5tlGZA-JCPurI4fryz4V0hnL7-vMx1q_9kvTj4DpdWv4yn69kP_QTuqoOk8HC06ssYG-Rd_q_PB4SKa/s640/blogger-image-1015944531.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Then it was back on the train for Moon Pies and our return journey to Blue Ridge. Fun times!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZqSxrhemJb8gdQjP2LbM4sNgEivt_CzlvRF4uRzU7zVir-piZFT3ePRFx40PYoipOIRq2-itSDsXSZDx01uaMJztKpJ4cxkQCGIGJkwvVwM2MBuOSC6QdhkkP5QYQ-3qHsAhVmWSAkqrr/s640/blogger-image-94831255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZqSxrhemJb8gdQjP2LbM4sNgEivt_CzlvRF4uRzU7zVir-piZFT3ePRFx40PYoipOIRq2-itSDsXSZDx01uaMJztKpJ4cxkQCGIGJkwvVwM2MBuOSC6QdhkkP5QYQ-3qHsAhVmWSAkqrr/s640/blogger-image-94831255.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Hugs,</div><div><br></div><div>Melissa</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7797295357883443145.post-38943308545959448032014-07-12T12:51:00.001-04:002014-07-14T15:42:41.465-04:00K.I.S.S.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWd1fOc8QSy958T6uv9QP2AAX3EPPqzdT20fUIvyRwRkNi0SV9PZ7Mr_zMrCbRopbMoBbuSJiZ-Lwy9iscCctjef0YPPal9Lnzt9kFKzsH98QqOOB3JCbZDgKYmZm7KrXW4UftpBoVYKD/s640/blogger-image-1389718878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWd1fOc8QSy958T6uv9QP2AAX3EPPqzdT20fUIvyRwRkNi0SV9PZ7Mr_zMrCbRopbMoBbuSJiZ-Lwy9iscCctjef0YPPal9Lnzt9kFKzsH98QqOOB3JCbZDgKYmZm7KrXW4UftpBoVYKD/s640/blogger-image-1389718878.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's summertime and I'm melting! It's like Orlando is one giant, stinky sweat lodge. Who needs hot yoga when you've got a mini van full of monkeys to wrangle in the 100 degree heat? The humidity is so high that you could swim in it!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My summertime survival motto is K.I.S.S. . "Keep It Slightly (less) Stinky" or sticky, or sweaty, or smelly...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I swear by three tried and true beauty tricks each summer: sunscreen, scent, and something glossy for the lips. Forget the mascara because by 10 AM it has already slid down to my upper lip creating a mustache. Nevermind the blush, the sun creates the perfect glow of heatstroke on my cheeks. Anything more and I end up looking like Lady Elaine Fairchild from Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What about you my friends? <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> What are your summertime beauty tricks and tips? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I guess if I wanted to keep it really simple, I could just skip the sunscreen, perfume, and gloss and just move to Antartica.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Hugs,</font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Melissa</font></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03486050271913573264noreply@blogger.com0