tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-156885072024-03-13T10:38:15.750-07:00A Little TimeA Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.comBlogger821125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-88022228193678141332023-07-08T11:10:00.001-07:002023-07-08T11:13:33.835-07:00Zookeeper<p>I found a picture of Kat dressed up in her zookeeper outfit all ready for her Madagascar themed birthday party. </p><p>I made a<a href="http://heatherlb.blogspot.com/2009/11/madagascar-themed-treatgoodie-bags.html" target="_blank"> post of the goodie bags</a> I made for the party but for some reason never posted a picture of her. </p><p>I'm so glad I have this blog to refer back to when I'm doing these pages so many years later. I had forgotten that the party was Madagascar themed and not just zookeeper themed. Ooops.</p><p>I made Kat her cake for that day rather than picking one up at the store. We wanted it (well, maybe I wanted it) to be red velvet. Here's<a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blog/post/edit/15688507/3932473405952504993"> link to a picture of her blowing out her candles.</a> </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_4YFlZLwRKONQcnlq0MzS7wmOYwCQT2WtxNFHt4GK4ztAoAvv3c6KegpNUtu6djMvqSWq5M-5R_CjR-a2B3YEXGUGI5W2X0RvOrPAtOc_XCQ-GBitB6IApE2r1EES_daIYAC7hdJfLVAfOXG739c_BtXEh1n9uhQA-VcAy0ozo825xNeDaVr/s3191/IMG_3413.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3191" data-original-width="2782" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_4YFlZLwRKONQcnlq0MzS7wmOYwCQT2WtxNFHt4GK4ztAoAvv3c6KegpNUtu6djMvqSWq5M-5R_CjR-a2B3YEXGUGI5W2X0RvOrPAtOc_XCQ-GBitB6IApE2r1EES_daIYAC7hdJfLVAfOXG739c_BtXEh1n9uhQA-VcAy0ozo825xNeDaVr/s320/IMG_3413.HEIC" width="279" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p>A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-49024579804948076932023-07-07T10:13:00.001-07:002023-07-07T10:13:43.276-07:00Five more<p> Being out of work for the summer has made me pretty bored. I'm still going at it although I've slowed down a bit. </p><p></p><p>I find it difficult to scrap pictures when I don't have a date of the photo or if they're not good pics or if I feel like I'm just repeating myself.</p><p><br /></p><p>For this page, I didn't edit the photo. I guess I forgot so you get to see the mess that lives behind me. </p><p>I wanted to get messy and so I used modeling paste and a stencil for the background. I didn't want to add too much more (paper wise) so I just used some circle paper and something neutral for the photo to live on. I still don't know if I like it or not. <br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJFspKzxMn-ev7_ggrjAqziBmTR80B-i-x-SMFOUSguTehatJ8xg0YEmTcJV-_pRYNkhLUa9XraITxD1OoM7pL2NYuXc_1W3vJQThokzP8F-1DleSXXIrPDMffmOerIWEM2gDXieMhmUvKNaDjMDFKT9a7ddJ4yxrxvmdmzKm_WF3bwn3a2X8/s4032/IMG_3353.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJFspKzxMn-ev7_ggrjAqziBmTR80B-i-x-SMFOUSguTehatJ8xg0YEmTcJV-_pRYNkhLUa9XraITxD1OoM7pL2NYuXc_1W3vJQThokzP8F-1DleSXXIrPDMffmOerIWEM2gDXieMhmUvKNaDjMDFKT9a7ddJ4yxrxvmdmzKm_WF3bwn3a2X8/s320/IMG_3353.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>These are my grandchildren. I took the photos back in February but just now edited them. Paper is mostly Fancy Pants with a little BasicGrey scrap that I found. <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0GzaTLc2z8d_5B0oe_nGCE_6tei8j5LPuzZ9joxYAP4h5qn_lmGgwHViN7iLLoFOM2hG-o3yYlX6HoSXnYcty2jjFUh_Aaaby1FUCYASkTMtQtHCZgAIejq6LdYAkDii4lNAeRMTbXjpIdGBFIATYC-HlhWDtU4YvBhigJAjNAD0mOMs8Pk1/s3248/IMG_3359.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3248" data-original-width="2930" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0GzaTLc2z8d_5B0oe_nGCE_6tei8j5LPuzZ9joxYAP4h5qn_lmGgwHViN7iLLoFOM2hG-o3yYlX6HoSXnYcty2jjFUh_Aaaby1FUCYASkTMtQtHCZgAIejq6LdYAkDii4lNAeRMTbXjpIdGBFIATYC-HlhWDtU4YvBhigJAjNAD0mOMs8Pk1/s320/IMG_3359.HEIC" width="289" /></a></div><p></p><p>This is Blake as a baby. In the picture above, he's the kid on the left (now 11 years old). I don't really like pre-made titles but I painted myself into a corner with this one so I just left it. Same paper line as above. And I got to use some yellow mist which is fun. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1dUxFNUxsfYcNB-akrnZZ84JP3tvzJSonNv7D7iBNvMlA7TcktRGfh_tCoYFZzMJ-qwJJ3yxCvTDBZUB_wmrS78JjZa1bqcZMLdg3pIIk3ODDC26alPDG2ckQr0kPbj7Luc9K6NTzmOs2dJaA3diSE1GqiDVPBc7tAPq_VZPMP_jK9WpjQ9z/s3191/IMG_3360.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3191" data-original-width="2877" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1dUxFNUxsfYcNB-akrnZZ84JP3tvzJSonNv7D7iBNvMlA7TcktRGfh_tCoYFZzMJ-qwJJ3yxCvTDBZUB_wmrS78JjZa1bqcZMLdg3pIIk3ODDC26alPDG2ckQr0kPbj7Luc9K6NTzmOs2dJaA3diSE1GqiDVPBc7tAPq_VZPMP_jK9WpjQ9z/s320/IMG_3360.HEIC" width="289" /></a></div><p></p><p>I followed the design of one of my older pages for this one. I really loved (and still do) Lilly Bee so that's where the flags and polka dot comes from. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWznNs9toihvqJvPh4Hh1VQQsY8qjhCoR6eyQl1nRHaNf9hLr1so26Z2P4owTpPI3CDDXW3Gvz0Lt0q_BAWWXwL0sjpbJSEdMSP7MCDReBMvpCcLeSHb8EoMQCl017cHnhK3xea4e5BemcqF2CLHmnxdYsAWbsMn0SzlY5bXccEHBqBDFJzAR/s2974/IMG_3401.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2974" data-original-width="2727" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWznNs9toihvqJvPh4Hh1VQQsY8qjhCoR6eyQl1nRHaNf9hLr1so26Z2P4owTpPI3CDDXW3Gvz0Lt0q_BAWWXwL0sjpbJSEdMSP7MCDReBMvpCcLeSHb8EoMQCl017cHnhK3xea4e5BemcqF2CLHmnxdYsAWbsMn0SzlY5bXccEHBqBDFJzAR/s320/IMG_3401.HEIC" width="293" /></a></div><p></p><p>This is one I'm just not happy with at all but I've accepted the fact that it just needed to be done. Look how cute he is next to his giant science project display. I felt there wasn't much I could do with this because the photo itself sucked (color, exposure, etc) so I got out the trusty BasicGrey and tried to highlight <i>him</i> as best I could instead of the GIANT WHITE BOARD that holds the spotlight. I also tore a page out of a chemistry book I use for occasions such as this and then distressed it by using some walnut dye ink. <br /></p><p>Trent is kind of lost in the darkness. Crappy pic.</p><p>I just recently added the stamps when I remembered I had some Tim Holtz stamps that were science related. <br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFIyVEZ4QeZmXnzsI6_JVp8oo4Me7b-vM6TmOeplIOcTkNr3DtrMQHXotzSt2XPTGEXypSKTUMPnrQzdBW_pkwE0Zg5YGqFSMwFuLk75iOzYMApeBI1zOPWFL5z2eJKuauS0Gh1yqPnr1-p36V1nkSrLhZUls97WgPl2jrvcdxk2o4FVy0biI/s3366/IMG_3412.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3366" data-original-width="2991" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFIyVEZ4QeZmXnzsI6_JVp8oo4Me7b-vM6TmOeplIOcTkNr3DtrMQHXotzSt2XPTGEXypSKTUMPnrQzdBW_pkwE0Zg5YGqFSMwFuLk75iOzYMApeBI1zOPWFL5z2eJKuauS0Gh1yqPnr1-p36V1nkSrLhZUls97WgPl2jrvcdxk2o4FVy0biI/s320/IMG_3412.HEIC" width="284" /></a></div> <p></p><p>I don't have a date for this picture so it will sit in the pile of other pages I have with no dates. Too many to count. </p><p><br /></p>A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-28544602400422109552023-06-24T14:03:00.000-07:002023-06-24T14:03:01.364-07:00Three pages in 24 hours<p>I tell you, I can't stop. </p><p>It may have to do with that I'm off work (mostly) for the summer and I'm bored out of my mind. The dishes are done and I'm caught up with laundry. I've played the hell out of Rimworld that I think I'm actually bored with it. If I had a better computer, I could add some more mods and play it differently and in a more "refreshing" way.<br /></p><p>Here's what I've been doing this last day:</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAMYLTfMASkzQKMFCVu4LOpVyoWkF2B0JbE8I153f9rDFgvNBRfkmqqlZyBMoEfXmBGl_yHvWY7NuygWY3oy09caibnThnGc8J9iWet2Pv3nLoWgIaO03oRcFsQJcqO6Le27N2razqH3BAou_Tpe9mV-MpNsatPHhBOVWqZgMFzWzOH9ZF9x9/s3246/IMG_3346.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3246" data-original-width="2838" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAMYLTfMASkzQKMFCVu4LOpVyoWkF2B0JbE8I153f9rDFgvNBRfkmqqlZyBMoEfXmBGl_yHvWY7NuygWY3oy09caibnThnGc8J9iWet2Pv3nLoWgIaO03oRcFsQJcqO6Le27N2razqH3BAou_Tpe9mV-MpNsatPHhBOVWqZgMFzWzOH9ZF9x9/s320/IMG_3346.HEIC" width="280" /></a></div><p>I always had to get the kids up and going on Wednesdays during the school year. If we didn't make it there to the school cafeteria, there would be no cinnamon rolls. Nothing like happy kids all sugared up.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOSwXkvQAY7akgG6NCbO8NfPNxcFc1uqnRQZQJjnr516qNJAL_sFprxgD5VIpGrxseVM0jwtEic6pWL6M3e7KEWfX5gwrwMU6DMrHJV46Fz_MtWp-uPC7o6P6qeweBAGk23NOJPsar8prouh5y8WfhDsg7KCQIo4Z8N_fZqTXxaOVtmzyH4Y4t/s3066/IMG_3347.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3066" data-original-width="2843" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOSwXkvQAY7akgG6NCbO8NfPNxcFc1uqnRQZQJjnr516qNJAL_sFprxgD5VIpGrxseVM0jwtEic6pWL6M3e7KEWfX5gwrwMU6DMrHJV46Fz_MtWp-uPC7o6P6qeweBAGk23NOJPsar8prouh5y8WfhDsg7KCQIo4Z8N_fZqTXxaOVtmzyH4Y4t/s320/IMG_3347.HEIC" width="297" /></a></div><p> </p><p>I lost Cherry in March. She was a reactive dog with separation anxiety and having tried everything, nothing was working. </p><p>My parents bought her a super heavy duty 60 pound crate - the one you can't escape from. I would still come home and she would have moved that crate (even with wheels locked) to the nearest piece of furniture, plant or book and destroy it. </p><p>I noticed that after I let her out of the crate that Manny would go in there and lick the floor of her crate. It took me a few days to figure out what was going on. I saw the teeth marks on the bars and realized that Manny was licking up blood from the crate floor from Cherry's mouth from chewing on the bars. </p><p>Trazadone worked but only for about 3 hours. I work 8 hours of the day so that wasn't going to work and Prozac just made her shake. Of course I had worked with Jay years previously for training. </p><p>She had also learned to unlock and open the sliding glass door and let herself out. Remember she was always a fence jumper, too. </p><p>The day I made the decision to put her down was after a huge fight between her and Shannon. I just couldn't do it anymore but didn't realize it until I called my mom. My mom gently suggested I put her down because I have been trying to make it work for years. Cherry was 11 and I had her for about 8 years. </p><p>Of course there is so much more to Cherry's story than just a few paragraphs but I just don't feel like writing about it.</p><p>The paper is BasicGrey Sultry and the stamps are Technique Tuesday.<br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLQm3JSCl0zNyfFD4j0Hf8Ej9o4MNctp9SJ2DxGJD7mqWLMRbZrdeykSyQ0o3yIZg__xRCwMVjjRWy6dR2wG-stoxoP2fd3qN6aB1823KovhX1pb9aPokobrf_BVci_Skh8RSST-1L-KbDdWws39460jIVToGYsRogFLNzcDGxfstEEu2Mi6Q/s3327/IMG_3350.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3327" data-original-width="2942" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLQm3JSCl0zNyfFD4j0Hf8Ej9o4MNctp9SJ2DxGJD7mqWLMRbZrdeykSyQ0o3yIZg__xRCwMVjjRWy6dR2wG-stoxoP2fd3qN6aB1823KovhX1pb9aPokobrf_BVci_Skh8RSST-1L-KbDdWws39460jIVToGYsRogFLNzcDGxfstEEu2Mi6Q/s320/IMG_3350.HEIC" width="283" /></a></div><p> </p><p>Somewhere in this picture is baby Blake hiding behind the toys. The kids thought it would be funny to add all his toys to his carrier to keep him super occupied. </p><p>This page is made from mostly scraps from stuff sitting around my desk. I'm not very happy with the title. I don't think I like the font. But, you win some you lose some and this is just going to stay the way it is. <br /></p><p><br /></p>A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-87959841606452741572023-06-23T19:13:00.000-07:002023-06-23T19:13:57.549-07:00Mule<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY33D_QWBsC2bZ2832Q2MvJ60WliEjyFA69-psVwPIQB5cYkLthnFjZdeAy_QC5JRnJYO7xStAPbfVX74eXliLsHXmxFSGG8V4OJWs13kgBEgGJm5F9ix5UCjktQESgyR-VdU_Jw4qVaHPlUc9R6XA9kgke33L_6aP9U1T26jNjRZo1UadM85j/s2864/IMG_3344.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2837" data-original-width="2864" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY33D_QWBsC2bZ2832Q2MvJ60WliEjyFA69-psVwPIQB5cYkLthnFjZdeAy_QC5JRnJYO7xStAPbfVX74eXliLsHXmxFSGG8V4OJWs13kgBEgGJm5F9ix5UCjktQESgyR-VdU_Jw4qVaHPlUc9R6XA9kgke33L_6aP9U1T26jNjRZo1UadM85j/s320/IMG_3344.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p> </p><p>It's been so many years but I've been bit by the scrapbooking bug again. I can't stop. I'm doing 4 or so layouts a week. This is just one I did yesterday. </p><p></p><p>I've been doing so many that I got stuck and had to use a Page Map for the design process. </p><p>Since I'm even able to log into this account, I'll be adding more pages soon.</p><p>All my papers and supplies are practically vintage at this point. I think this is all BasicGrey Sugar Rush. .<br /></p><p>Old.</p><p>Vintage.</p><p>AND, I dug out my old Technique Tuesday stamps. Those babies are hanging
on by a thin thread. Some of them are starting to rip but the ones that
work are just making my day.</p><p>I miss the days I used to design for them. There is nothing like the smell of new stamps. <br /></p><p>The picture is from 2010. I'm only 13 years behind. </p><p>We were at Mount Vernon and Kat can never resist an animal. She tried and tried to pet this mule that wanted really nothing to do with her. </p><p>Since I've started scrapbooking like a maniac again, I've run into a small problem. I'm out of scrapbooks. Money is so damn tight and I can't afford new books so I'll just be trying to stuff old ones until the seams burst. </p><p>I counted the books I have and they're up to 45. Do you know what a pain in the ass those are to move? I can't really put them in a box because they're so large and awkward. They have to be moved by hand and I'm an old lady now. I'm not looking forward to moving anytime soon. <br /></p><p>Enough bitching for now. </p><p>Enjoy your day.</p><p>Heather<br /></p>A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-17227195053326551332021-01-23T10:05:00.003-07:002021-01-23T10:05:37.557-07:00Dear Grandma<p> <span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica;">Hi Grandma,</span></p><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">Not too much going on. I’m staying in pajamas all day. I figure it deserve it. I’ve worked 10 days with only 1 day off. </div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">The dogs were acting weird the last few days. When I came home Wednesday, I noticed that one of the sliding glass doors was open and the dogs were outside. I thought I just didn’t close it well and they “nosed” it open.</div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: initial; font-size: inherit; text-decoration-color: rgba(128, 128, 128, 0.38); word-wrap: break-word !important;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">On Thursday morning</a> before I left for work, I double and triple checked the door to make sure it was closed and locked. </div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">At my break a few hours later, I opened the camera and realized that they had opened the door again and were outside. I called Dad and he went over and put them inside and set a rod down so they couldn’t open it again. They had destroyed about 10 vertical blinds in the process as well. </div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">I picked up all the broken blinds and replaced them. </div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: initial; font-size: inherit; text-decoration-color: rgba(128, 128, 128, 0.38); word-wrap: break-word !important;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">Friday morning</a> while on break, I checked the camera again and while they hadn’t opened the door, there were 6 blinds still hanging. Something was certainly bothering them. </div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">When I got home I did a quick check around the house to make sure no one was living undercover in my house. I seriously doubted this was a possibility but still checked. No one else was in the house. </div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">Very odd behavior. </div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">Anyway, I’m glad you enjoyed your sweet. I had an apple for breakfast and it was really good.</div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">Have a good day. I’ll pet the puppies but I’ll tel them you told them they have to start behaving or else!</div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">Have a good day.</div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">Love</div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;"><br style="word-wrap: break-word !important;" /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Regular, Helvetica; word-wrap: break-word !important;">Heather </div>A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-32455921847142564902020-03-22T16:17:00.002-07:002020-03-22T16:17:15.464-07:00At homeTesting this to see if it still works.<br />
<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-73014195135189198462018-06-08T11:41:00.000-07:002018-06-08T11:43:57.445-07:00Dear Grandma RE: Preschool ThemesI've decided that I'm going to start recording some of my responses to my grandmother. Ever since my other grandmother died 14 years ago, she writes me every day. She lets me know she's still there and still alive.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3feh9h8I1k/WxrOYx6x4cI/AAAAAAAB-9Q/swCUBRYuPl0cRA2ek_-gx68y460P_DsTwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0713.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3feh9h8I1k/WxrOYx6x4cI/AAAAAAAB-9Q/swCUBRYuPl0cRA2ek_-gx68y460P_DsTwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0713.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
May 31, 2018<br />
<br />
<div class="ox-9190e0524a-ox-6e372a3c72-ox-9891d7fa4c-gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: small;">
Hi Heather:
</div>
<div class="ox-9190e0524a-ox-6e372a3c72-ox-9891d7fa4c-gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: small;">
Checking in and all seems okay here. I didn't know you were planning to attend Pima. Tell me more when you have time.
</div>
<div class="ox-9190e0524a-ox-6e372a3c72-ox-9891d7fa4c-gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ox-9190e0524a-ox-6e372a3c72-ox-9891d7fa4c-gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: small;">
Have a good one.
</div>
Love, GB<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
Yeah,
I think I made that decision a couple weeks ago when I decided I didn't
want to spend the next 1/5 of my life struggling to work full time and
go to school for a bachelors degree to teach. All of my "advisors"
(therapists, lawyer, etc) tell me I have a good 30 years left of my
working life. Getting a bachelors degree while working full time will
take AT LEAST 6 years. So, I said, "FUCK IT" and decided to do something
else on my list of possible jobs that were good fits for me. I took 3
tests back in December or so to decide what career would be good for me.
Teaching, medical and graphic design were on the list.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
All of the medical degrees were competitive and I could end up on a waiting list and I didn't want the extra stress.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
So,
after thinking about it, I made the decision that I was staying in the
school district to work so I can have the same time off as the kids. I'm
worried about the kids being alone during extended school breaks.
Christmas break was when one of Kat's friends killed himself. My kids
are too emotional to be left alone for long periods of time. And
besides, I really like working with the kids.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
I need at least 30 hours in Amphi and that gets me medical and dental coverage. And they have a GREAT retirement program.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
So,
I can go to school part time and learn how to design web pages,
business cards, etc. I can do that on the side when I feel like it. I
can also incorporate my photography and I want to learn how to fix my
own computer. I'll still be working with Jay as much as I can and the
first thing I'm going to do is fix his stupid web page.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
Once
Kat graduates, I can either stay at what I'm doing, increase my hours
at the school or just find a job doing graphic design and I'll already
have experience.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
My
other idea was to make some new kid friendly books or videos. Having
been in preschool this year, I've noticed some strange themes in
Children's stories. There is always some old lady eating things she's
not supposed to. You know, "I know an old lady that swallowed a fly. I
don't know why she swallowed the fly. Perhaps she'll die. I know an old
lady that swallowed a spider. She swallowed the spider to catch the
fly...." etc. They're ALWAYS old ladies and there are several stories
and her diet changes depending on the time of year.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
There
is also that damn story, "If you give a mouse a cookie". I'm sure you
know that story. Well, that damn mouse has ADHD and can NEVER finish a
damn project. They make short movies based on that story and they drive
me nuts. I just want to scream, "FINISH YOUR DAMN PROJECT BEFORE YOU
MOVE ON TO HELP MR. MOOSE. MR. MOOSE CAN WAIT". And then he never
finishes Mr. Moose because some other idiot comes up and needs help and
so he leaves Mr. Moose and goes to help someone else and it just keeps
going and going until he makes a big ass mess. I can't stand it.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
There
is also the story about the kid that wants his grandmother to knit him
some mittens. When she asks what color, he says, "white". Well of course
the grandmother tells him he's going to lose the mittens in the snow
but the little shit insists and she makes him white mittens. Well, guess
what happens? He loses one of those damn mittens just like he was
warned and THEN a bunch of animals find it and start living in it. The
story is completely unrealistic because we have a mouse living in there
with a bunch of other carnivores. </div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
I
say that the story is about the desperation of homelessness but
everyone else always says that it's about working together and living in
harmony. We had to just agree to disagree on that one. </div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
There
is also a few stories where working men fuck everything up and who has
to come to their rescue? Their wives. Their wives are the ones that have
to fix the big messes that their husbands make. I suppose that is one
of the more realistic stories. </div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
There
is also an animated movie that the kids love where the characters are
in a jungle playing with dangerous animals. It's called Animal Boogie
Oogie Woogie or something like that. The characters all have oversized,
very wrinkled clothing and they play with animals like cobras, vultures
(in fact, the one that plays with a giant oversized vulture is a child
in a wheel chair. The way that vulture eyes her is scary because he
knows she can't run away) and some sort of tiger or something. Their
depiction of the tiger is not even real. It looks more like a saber
tooth tiger with it's giant fangs hanging 6 inches out of its mouth.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
At
the end of the movie, I always have to say, "Never play with wild
animals" because I'm afraid the kids are going to come across a snake
somewhere and try to ride it like they do in the movie.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
So, that's my story. :) </div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
Enjoy your day. </div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
Love,</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
Heather<br />
<br />
<br />
Thank you for the long letter telling me about all the decisions you've
make lately. For what it's worth, I think you've made some good ones
and, obviously, thought it all out well. Your photo ability should not
go to waste. Working the same hours as the kids are in school makes
sense. Just don't wear yourself out. Get lots of sleep!
<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-32459894129099119862018-03-16T21:00:00.000-07:002018-03-16T21:00:02.599-07:00Isle of Flightless Birds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vZlF6LESD6A/WqyRsZRFWzI/AAAAAAAB6w4/tt8ffMtJimY2uE_IO06jg6dwvyo1CwKtgCLcBGAs/s1600/bird-0304.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1301" data-original-width="1052" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vZlF6LESD6A/WqyRsZRFWzI/AAAAAAAB6w4/tt8ffMtJimY2uE_IO06jg6dwvyo1CwKtgCLcBGAs/s320/bird-0304.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I will fly with no hope, no fear</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And the ground taunts my wings</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Plummet as I sing, plummet as I sing</div>
A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-28031198555926916822018-03-01T15:30:00.000-07:002018-03-01T15:30:16.510-07:00The Audience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9rGuEn5Wesw/Wph-RinD3jI/AAAAAAAB6gw/QJ9SlozNNNgEXWsBWPIyHu4bTbXQE_gAwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9rGuEn5Wesw/Wph-RinD3jI/AAAAAAAB6gw/QJ9SlozNNNgEXWsBWPIyHu4bTbXQE_gAwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0281.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every day since the middle of November</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The audience sits and watches every move I make</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There is nothing I can do about the audience</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There is nothing the audience can do about me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It just sits there and judges</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Silently</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every Day</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every Night</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Helpless </div>
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-44839262120924429392017-06-06T11:31:00.000-07:002017-06-06T11:31:12.740-07:00minutes<div>
Geez what a DAY! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I got a call from Jay's callbox at 6:30 this morning. Usually when someone calls that early I know it's urgent.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So,
I call to listen in to the messages and there are actually 2 messages.
The first one is someone that needs some toad training. They called at
4:22 PM yesterday. The 2nd call was the same person and at first I was
like, "Geez! Give me a break! I'll call you in a minute!", but they were
frantic because now there were toads in their pool and their dog was
going insane trying to get to them. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
can't reach Jay (if you know Jay, you know this is normal) and I know
he's not going there anytime soon because he's in Pinal today doing Euth
evaluations. I don't know if he has any toads yet.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
call these people back and they're telling me that they've called 6 or 7
places and no one will get the toads and they don't know what to do
with it and the Sheriff said they couldn't shoot them but gave them
Jay's phone number and they really need someone to get the toads
now......</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They sounded so desperate and I
decided that I would go get the toads but warned them it would take me
an hour to get there because they live so fucking far away. They were
fine with that. They were appreciative and thankful.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So,
not even knowing if Jay has toads and not knowing for sure if these are
really Colorado River Toads I decide I'm waking the kids up and we're
going. It totally screwed up my day but I said to myself, "It's our
first summer adventure."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Both kids are
asleep in bed. That took a few minutes to get them up and moving. I
didn't even have to bribe them with anything. That's how half asleep
they were.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Trent grabs the rubber gloves
and we're off to Walmart to buy a bucket. Before we leave, I ask Trent
to get a screwdriver so we can poke holes in the lid. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
20
minutes later, we're standing in the parking lot of Walmart at the
trunk of our mini van with a screwdriver stabbing holes in the lid of
big, blue bucket. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
40 minutes after that, we pull up to our location. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The lady comes out and lets us in the backyard. She tells me they're in the pool skimmer. She's looking a little nervous.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Trent
and I don our gloves and I take the lid off the skimmer. I immediately
slam it back down in place and look at her and say, "Those are really
big!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and they were!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They took up the entire interior of the skimmer!!!!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Even
after I slammed the lid on the skimmer and hearing my reaction, Trent
goes in next for the grab. The toad starts making noises and then
Trent's hand recoils without a toad and he says, "Oh, they're still
together!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes, the toads were mating. And they weren't going to stop just because we were there. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or because we wanted them out of the skimmer. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now
that we both know what we're dealing with, I tell Trent to get the
bucket ready. We gotta look cool in front of this lady. I don't want her
to know this is our first time retrieving a toad(s) from a pool skimmer. I
think Kat is standing on the other side of the pool, trembling. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Trent
puts the bucket next to the skimmer, I reach in and grab the male
(obviously because he's smaller and has his arms wrapped around the
larger, good looking toad). He immediately starts making his weird
noises but he's not letting go. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and this time, I'm not either.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I pick him up, he keeps his firm grip on her and they both go in the bucket. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
15 minutes later, I finally reach Jay on the phone. He says he doesn't have any toads and I say, "You do now!". </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The last thing Jay says to me is, "Don't let them die. Feed 'em crickets."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
17
minutes later, we pull up at Petsmart. Kat can't even go inside because
the thought of crickets is making her squeal and her body is contorting
in ways I've never seen. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She doesn't like it 5 minutes later when I throw a bag of 25 crickets at her. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No, I didn't really do that but I thought about it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At home, I get a big rock to put in the bucket for the happy crickets to live on before they are eaten. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We
arrange the bucket in the back of my scrapbook room. The lady at
Petsmart said that the crickets couldn't live in the bag for long and
that I could just put them all in the bucket at once. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, that's what I did. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I opened the lid and the toads were still mating. Ok. Whatever.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
dump the crickets on their rock island. Some jump onto the toads. Some
decide to end their life on their terms and jump off the rock into the
water. Some are already dead. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Good thing I didn't wait long before releasing them. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aPoa_DVnSO0/WTbyzaQDQbI/AAAAAAABttA/jOTcp6cgCyQQr-xsJm4jpNxoX3I-_uuZQCKgB/s1600/IMG_20170531_092414667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aPoa_DVnSO0/WTbyzaQDQbI/AAAAAAABttA/jOTcp6cgCyQQr-xsJm4jpNxoX3I-_uuZQCKgB/s400/IMG_20170531_092414667.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Even
though Kat is whining about having to go shopping for workout clothes, I
have to take Manny to the vet. He needs shots. He's late and I can't
wait another day. Kat will have to wait.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Manny won't enter the vet's office. I have to pick him up and carry him in. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Before
I can even get to the counter, I feel something hot on my stomach. I
look at another customer and ask, "Did he just pee on me?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Yes, and he still is", was her reply. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I know if I leave now, Manny wins. So, I stay. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
go to the bathroom and wipe off as much as I can. However, it's on my
shirt, my shorts, rolled down my leg and is in my socks and shoes.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I try and find a seat and I wait. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2
hours later, I'm home and I check on the toads. They're still mating
and every single god damn cricket is dead, floating in the water. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--mXip-E785A/WTbzup_7fpI/AAAAAAABttI/nqVW2qS9mE8o2tIw9BrX_mZXE8uYWzvmgCLcB/s1600/Screenshot_20170606-112245.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--mXip-E785A/WTbzup_7fpI/AAAAAAABttI/nqVW2qS9mE8o2tIw9BrX_mZXE8uYWzvmgCLcB/s400/Screenshot_20170606-112245.png" width="225" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What the hell? I felt like I just threw away $3.50. I was pissed. Kat wants to go shopping NOW!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Will they eat dead crickets? What do I do? I try looking for answers on Google.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I try calling Jay. No answer. Doesn't return texts. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
take a shower and I take Kat to Walmart because she needs new workout
clothes TODAY! NOW! THIS VERY SECOND! And if you were paying any
attention to this story, you knew in the first five minutes that I am no
good at saying, "NO!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
90 minutes later, we're back and I check on the toads. They're STILL MATING. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm
feeling really sorry for the female toad. I want to pull him off of her
and give her a break. I'm feeling suffocated. I'm finding it hard to
breathe.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I try calling Jay again. No answer. I text him. No return text. I try looking for answers on Google. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
ask Trent to get his gloves on because at the very least, we're going
to clean the dead crickets out of the bucket and get them fresh water.
It can't be good for any living thing to have dead things floating in
the same water they're mating in, right?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ewww, infection.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Outside in the sunshine, I pull the lid off and once again, I gasp in horror. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's not because the crickets look a little bloated at this point. </div>
<div>
It's not because the toads are STILL MATING. (give it up already, will you?)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's because there are strings and strings of black eggs everywhere.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yKvjIRQgpEw/WTb0x23Y3rI/AAAAAAABttg/xpeamWkWICYB_eB22s7451sVzlA0LWgnwCLcB/s1600/6901.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yKvjIRQgpEw/WTb0x23Y3rI/AAAAAAABttg/xpeamWkWICYB_eB22s7451sVzlA0LWgnwCLcB/s400/6901.jpeg" width="225" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now
I'm the one that's frantic because I don't know what I'm supposed to do
with these baby toads. I don't want to be the one to make this
decision. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I can't pour them out into the
gravel because I know damn well we'll have a rainstorm and these babies
will turn into tadpoles, then toads and terrorize every neighbor dog we
have.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I can't throw them away. They're living creatures. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
5
minutes later, I've made my decision and I have separated the toads and
given the female a 20 second break from her annoying mate. I can see in
her eyes that she is relieved and thankful I did this for her. I felt a
toad fist pump would have been possible if the whiny male would have
just shut up for a second but he didn't. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
put them back in the bucket and gave them fresh water and a clean rock.
The male wastes no time wrapping his slimy arms around her. I think I
see her shudder in disgust. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I leave to take Kat to her workout.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
90 minutes later, we're back and I check on the toads. They're still at it. And there are more eggs. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And now at this point, Jay's phone isn't even ringing. It goes straight to his voice mail. He knows. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
..and who shoots toads anyway?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-77290655952722507452017-05-25T17:21:00.000-07:002017-05-25T17:21:16.390-07:00178 daysWell, here we go again. Each year I do this and it gets tougher and tougher.<br />
<br />
I started last night by insisting that the kids find the shirts they wore on the first day of school. For such a simple task, there was a lot of eye rolling, grunts and stomping.<br />
<br />
Blaming, too. Lots of blaming.<br />
<br />
Eventually, oh, about 20 minutes later, both kids came into the kitchen, each extending an arm with a wrinkled black t-shirt clutched in their fists. These were the shirts they wore on first day of school 178 days ago.<br />
<br />
"Are they clean?"<br />
<br />
"Clean enough" was the response.<br />
<br />
Very good. Be prepared to wear your shirts and get pictures taken. That means, Trent, do not sneak into the shower until I have your photo.<br />
<br />
Whatever.<br />
<br />
This morning.<br />
<br />
Kat is already up.<br />
<br />
Trent is still in bed. "TRENT! You have 2 minutes to get your shirt on and outside. You knew this was coming."<br />
<br />
More grumbling.<br />
More loud noises.<br />
More "GEEZ!"<br />
More "STUPID!"<br />
<br />
Ok! Smile!<br />
<br />
"I'm going in."<br />
<br />
"No Trent. You're not. We can stay out here forever. Don't care. <br />
<br />
More grumbling.<br />
More loud noises.<br />
More "GEEZ!"<br />
More "STUPID!"<br />
<br />
I take a few snaps. This is all they'll give me. So, you tell me. Is the first picture from today or 178 days ago?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-paGLRX7Pl68/WSdz_AxD2CI/AAAAAAABtAI/AWISUI5MvLgRB4iD4VqT98wglLAEX8KVQCLcB/s1600/_MG_1290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-paGLRX7Pl68/WSdz_AxD2CI/AAAAAAABtAI/AWISUI5MvLgRB4iD4VqT98wglLAEX8KVQCLcB/s400/_MG_1290.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IiWJTyYgfIw/WSd0EhazPvI/AAAAAAABtAM/lqA0t1wvq-YaAbb-dY68oQXD9-QOKkS3wCLcB/s1600/kattrent-4639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IiWJTyYgfIw/WSd0EhazPvI/AAAAAAABtAM/lqA0t1wvq-YaAbb-dY68oQXD9-QOKkS3wCLcB/s400/kattrent-4639.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm going in.<br />
Fine, Trent.<br />
<br />
More grumbling.<br />
More loud noises.<br />
More "GEEZ!"<br />
More "STUPID!"<br />
<br />
Trent in 10, Kat in 7th. <br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-36083091681078082242017-05-24T17:56:00.000-07:002017-05-24T17:56:11.655-07:00pantsI'm so tired. It's the day before the last day of school. My daughter is bringing over the grand kids.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9tUWITsEeM8/WSYrdvcSCXI/AAAAAAABs98/v0DXYUqBp64I-Fodgjqfhm-Jqy5jCHnwwCLcB/s1600/IMG_20170524_175118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1338" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9tUWITsEeM8/WSYrdvcSCXI/AAAAAAABs98/v0DXYUqBp64I-Fodgjqfhm-Jqy5jCHnwwCLcB/s320/IMG_20170524_175118.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
<br />
Did I mention I was tired?<br />
<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-64196829665487386042017-05-21T17:08:00.001-07:002017-05-21T17:08:50.068-07:001 star = aweomeI must have missed the email from Norton Family that the subscription was up. It expired 3/25.<br />
<br />
That means my kids have been alone on the internet for almost 2 months.<br />
<br />
I did a quick "random phone check" and luckily I found nothing.<br />
<br />
Not being so thrilled with Norton, I started looking around at other products. I didn't want to spend long doing it because I wanted something on the kids' phones immediately.<br />
<br />
I wanted something that monitored time, monitored Chrome, Google photos and private messages in social media. I learned the hard way that some apps like Skype and Instagram have private messaging and is NOT monitored by Norton. Google photos seems to be a free for all (but at least at Norton I they tell me what they're searching for) and NOTHING on Chrome is monitored but it does tell me when they get on Chrome.<br />
<br />
24 hours later I went back to Norton and renewed my subscription. I couldn't find anything that did all of that and since everyone already had Norton on their phone, I just did renewed.<br />
<br />
I was looking at the number of stars on the Norton Family app and noticed that they had way more 1 star reviews than any other. Why? Were other people having the same issues? It only has a 2.8 review!??<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MnRe5R-AR1Q/WSIrNggijsI/AAAAAAABs3w/WNJk_CZBaPQaJFJzMmwj5lrrcvdFXj3wACLcB/s1600/Screenshot_20170521-165533.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MnRe5R-AR1Q/WSIrNggijsI/AAAAAAABs3w/WNJk_CZBaPQaJFJzMmwj5lrrcvdFXj3wACLcB/s640/Screenshot_20170521-165533.png" width="360" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
I go to read some of the reviews and find this:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ANzS16q3iV8/WSIrXc32okI/AAAAAAABs34/4ACjcPuwpyIuklns--7dpiW1oAun_fdKgCLcB/s1600/Screenshot_20170520-084700.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ANzS16q3iV8/WSIrXc32okI/AAAAAAABs34/4ACjcPuwpyIuklns--7dpiW1oAun_fdKgCLcB/s640/Screenshot_20170520-084700.png" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_213888966"></span><span id="goog_213888967"></span><br />
It seems that so many of these 1 star reviews are from kids that have it installed.<br />
<br />
That means it must work better than I thought.<br />
<br />
I signed up for another year.<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-13924877878923146982017-05-04T18:27:00.000-07:002017-05-04T18:27:09.903-07:00DecadesSo Kat is at silks and I hear Trent in the kitchen making himself dinner. It's probably a quesadilla.<br />
<br />
I ask him what he's making but he ignores me.<br />
<br />
Oh, I know what he's doing. I hear the crash of silverware on the counter. He's emptying the dishwasher.<br />
<br />
Finally.<br />
<br />
I asked him to do that an hour ago.<br />
<br />
I have nothing to write about.<br />
<br />
No cute stories come to mind.<br />
<br />
I'm just here. Existing.<br />
<br />
I haven't made a scrapbook page in decades.<br />
<br />
Ok, maybe not decades.<br />
<br />
The other day, Katrina wanted to play a song for me.<br />
<br />
She was excited to share.<br />
<br />
I hear:<br />
<br />
"Twenty twenty twenty four hours to go..."<br />
<br />
"KAT!" I say loudly.<br />
<br />
"THAT IS THE RAMONES! You've heard this before."<br />
<br />
"I have?"<br />
<br />
Yes, she's heard it many times. Maybe it's been a decade, though, since she has heard it.<br />
<br />
When Trent was a toddler, we'd play the Ramones constantly. He would sing along in his car seat, "HEY HO LET'S GO!..."<br />
<br />
I think the first time I ever heard the Ramones was from the movie Times Square. I was just a teenager and looking up the movie now, I see it was rated R. Why my parents allowed me AND my younger sister to watch a rated R movie is unknown. To this day, I've never seen all of Animal House or Fast Times at Ridgemont High.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I would sneak into my parent's room and turn on HBO and just hope that some rated R movie was on because it was oh-so-restricted. I would watch short segments of the above mentioned movies and then quickly change it to Popeye when I saw the shadow of my mother coming down the hallway. <br />
<br />
Once I was old enough to watch rated R movies, the novelty of the forbidden quickly wore off and so that is why I never got around to watching the movies I mentioned above.<br />
<br />
Anyway, back to Times Square. I still wonder why I was allowed to watch that movie. I fell in love with that movie. And thinking about it now, I don't think it was because of the movie but because of the music.<br />
<br />
I'd like to say that the movie made a shift in my life but that sounds so dramatic. But I was dramatic at 13. It was the music that made the shift and changed the course of my life to where it is today. And I don't mean "sitting in bed in my underwear, Hot Bench on the TV in the background and typing this" today. <br />
<br />
Let me just give you a brief rundown of what was on that soundtrack that made its impact on my 13 year old little self:<br />
<br />
The Pretenders "Talk of the Town"<br />
Roxy Music "Same old Scene"<br />
Gary Numan "Down in the Park"<br />
Talking Heads "Life During Wartime"<br />
Ramones "I Wanna Be Sedated"<br />
The Ruts "Babylon's Burning"<br />
Lou Reed "Walk on the Wild Side"<br />
The Cure "Grinding Halt"<br />
Patti Smith Group "Pissing in the River"<br />
<br />
This was a type of music that I had never heard before. It hit my ears, dripped into my brain and then scratched some itch in my chest that I didn't even knew existed. It ran down the veins in my arms and wrapped itself around me. It was mine and it was personal.<br />
<br />
and the worst part was...<br />
<br />
I couldn't have it<br />
<br />
I scraped up enough money so I could buy the soundtrack on a cassette tape at Gemco. My parents seemed proud that I had found something that I loved so much.<br />
<br />
I got it home and played it.<br />
<br />
I wanted to play it again. It wouldn't play.<br />
<br />
I was upset. Very upset. But my parents knew that this was important to me so they took me back to Gemco for an exchange.<br />
<br />
That fucking cassette didn't work either.<br />
<br />
I took it back, too. The store was out. There was no replacement. My father asked about ordering it. Nope. No vinyl. No cassette. No music. No scratch on my itch.<br />
<br />
I wanted to keep the cassette that didn't work. I guess I thought if I held onto it long enough that I could still hear the music. Or maybe I could fix it. Or maybe my Uncle could fix it. Or maybe...<br />
<br />
I had run out of "maybes". There weren't a lot of options back then.<br />
<br />
I was devastated. It's not like they play those songs on the radio.<br />
<br />
(Remember listening to the radio with two fingers on your cassette recorder? Just waiting for your favorite song to come on so you can record it. Damn. I would spend hours waiting for songs to come on so I could record them.)<br />
<br />
I NEVER forgot that soundtrack.<br />
<br />
It made such an impact on my very existence and reason for living that I could never forget.<br />
<br />
So dramatic, huh?<br />
<br />
Well, now decades later I have access to that music, to those songs that I still feel changed the course of my life.<br />
<br />
(Is that possible? Can music change the course of your life?)<br />
<br />
I have downloaded all those songs (and more) and made my own little Times Square Soundtrack playlist.<br />
<br />
and now my itch is scratched and I don't have to worry about never hearing the music again.<br />
<br />
and decades from now my kids will still be listening to the Ramones because it will remind them of me and maybe their childhood.<br />
<br />
Their childhood that was filled with lots and lots and lots of music. <br />
<br />
And even Ashley will hear The Residents and it will remind her of me. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-90vu_AYHcJE/WQvSdS28HNI/AAAAAAABsio/omdzLzANPZMQjER3XRMmLnLfZ4VC_r_1ACLcB/s1600/kids-4332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-90vu_AYHcJE/WQvSdS28HNI/AAAAAAABsio/omdzLzANPZMQjER3XRMmLnLfZ4VC_r_1ACLcB/s640/kids-4332.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
yes, decades later<br />
<br />
<br />
and wow. I found something to write about. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-35880252722146780322017-04-18T18:12:00.000-07:002017-04-24T17:42:50.374-07:00The Show Must Go ONSo, here I am.<br />
I'm old.<br />
I'm not feeling well.<br />
My kids don't need me as much as they used to.<br />
<br />
I find myself frequently thinking about when they were little and how much fun we had.<br />
<br />
Now they want nothing to do with me.<br />
<br />
I'm sad and stuck in the past. My therapist says it's because I have only identified myself as a mother.<br />
<br />
Ashley has her own family. <br />
<br />
Trent can't wait until he's done with school and can move out.<br />
<br />
Kat told me she's not having kids. EVER.<br />
<br />
I don't know what I'm supposed to do when my kids go away.<br />
<br />
I had a horrible time during my teen years. My mother was always trying to get me to think of the future and a goal to work towards. Most of my thoughts and answers included me being happily married with children. At the time she asked, it was the 1970's so I may have also said something along the lines of "changing the wallpaper every 3 months".<br />
<br />
Yeah, so what happens when the children get big and go away? I don't know what I want. What happens now?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O8V10nZdENM/WPa4lIgtEQI/AAAAAAABsOg/Cb0F8IcbII4nsq8T9jTe_Mo73ko4qyjxQCLcB/s1600/Trent-0066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O8V10nZdENM/WPa4lIgtEQI/AAAAAAABsOg/Cb0F8IcbII4nsq8T9jTe_Mo73ko4qyjxQCLcB/s400/Trent-0066.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trent ignoring me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-57475980948398756732017-03-01T16:59:00.000-07:002017-03-01T16:59:06.759-07:00It's not just another dayAs some of you know, I have taken the position of "Campus Monitor" and "Crossing Guard" at one of my local elementary schools.<br />
<br />
We are short a monitor and I was asked to come up with some realistic situations we could use to test the potential candidates during the interview.<br />
<br />
Here is what I came up with. Tell me what you think YOU would do:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>The following situations are taken from REAL case files of playground
incidents at Blah Blah Blah Elementary. Please note that names have been changed
to protect the privacy and safety of
the innocent.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<b><br />
Case File #1029876543</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
"Julie" comes to you in tears. She says that her friends are being mean
to her. Before you can ask a question, her friends rush up behind her
saying the same thing. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
"Julie is being mean to us! She's not telling the truth."</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
You have three girls crying, talking louder and louder and the accusations are flying like a flock of birds in a tornado.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
Before long, you have 38 other children crowding around, most of them
curious about what's going on. Some children have other issues they feel
are more important than Julie and her friends.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
They say:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
"Ms. Bertha, my ball is over the fence and my dad is going to kill me if I don't get it." or,<br />
"Come look at this pile of sand I built", or<br />
"I picked you a flower", (and really it's not even a flower. It's a stick with leaves on it), or<br />
"I counted to 47 on the swings and "Junior" won't get off", or<br />
"How much longer 'till we go inside?", or<br />
"I pulled some weeds and now I can't breathe well"</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
Julie is getting pushed from behind from the crowd of children fighting
to get your attention. Her tears grow larger and then someone reaches
for your whistle....</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
What do you do?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
Case File #1029376545</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
You have just helped a child up off the ground that slipped on the wet
grass. You look at their pants and note that they are soaked. You call
the nurse and report that "Justin" is going to need dry pants and a
jacket. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
All of a sudden, there are 18 children around you offering to take
"Justin" to the nurse's office. When you look up to say, "Thank you
children. But "Justin" can make it himself", you happen to notice all
the children on the field in the distance.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
You are shocked at what you see. Your eyes grow larger and your mouth
opens in horror. Children are jumping in puddles, splashing each other
and picking up tadpoles and trying to shove them in their pockets. Some
children have found pieces of garbage and are
"transporting" hurt tadpoles to a Tadpole Recovery Area that another
child has set up. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
Other children have taken off their shoes, filling them with water
trying to make a Tadpole Fish Tank to take home to their moms.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
When you look back at "Justin", there are 3 children taking him to the
nurse. Those 3 children have ignored you. 15 have left to hunt for
tadpoles because when you looked up at the field, they saw the panic in
your eyes and wanted to check it out for themselves.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br />
What do you do....</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I think I've set up a pretty realistic scenario on what it's like on the playground. <br />
A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-58438059166990337952016-12-31T16:34:00.001-07:002016-12-31T16:34:18.151-07:006teenIt's the end of the year. Yesterday was Trent's birthday.<br />
<br />
Here he is at 15 (12/29/2016)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E3a2Zsqs8jk/WGg_vpQgVBI/AAAAAAABoUc/kynW54CnP88wpgU3942WX2JyLLjjenOigCLcB/s1600/15-3796.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E3a2Zsqs8jk/WGg_vpQgVBI/AAAAAAABoUc/kynW54CnP88wpgU3942WX2JyLLjjenOigCLcB/s400/15-3796.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
Here he is at 16 (12/30/16):<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wZR--hMHHps/WGg_71WPoeI/AAAAAAABoUg/k91Se33otV8rAQy3XRIpCw20bPgeI_1CwCLcB/s1600/16-3803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wZR--hMHHps/WGg_71WPoeI/AAAAAAABoUg/k91Se33otV8rAQy3XRIpCw20bPgeI_1CwCLcB/s400/16-3803.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
He closed his eyes (like he usually does) through all the photos of just himself. Here he is at 16 with his girlfriend, Alexis.<br />
<br />
Can you tell a difference between 15 & 16?<br />
<br />
He looks happier with Alexis. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-89381691904853740872016-12-25T10:21:00.000-07:002016-12-25T10:21:15.738-07:00Merry ChristmasHere it is. This year's Christmas photo. I'm sorry I didn't mail any out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3t1Gkman_2A/WF_9RO26SoI/AAAAAAABoBE/q9flCIJFIloNE0SR48Fd2uTVgWqWoKo3QCLcB/s1600/holiday-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3t1Gkman_2A/WF_9RO26SoI/AAAAAAABoBE/q9flCIJFIloNE0SR48Fd2uTVgWqWoKo3QCLcB/s640/holiday-.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
I also didn't send out any of those fancy year end wrap up letters.<br />
<br />
I asked the kids to write one up but they didn't. They started out with some ideas.<br />
<br />
One of Kat's was:<br />
<br />
<b>Depression/Anxiety: Please send help</b><br />
<br />
One of Trent's was:<br />
<br />
<b>Not another Walgreen's Christmas, please.</b><br />
<br />
Have a great year. I can't wait to read all the notes next year of the exotic family vacations, trips around the world, dinners, expensive purchases, etc.<br />
<br />
I can say that we are all so very blessed to have the eyes to read all of these letters.<br />
<br />
Oh, and we are also very blessed that Erik still has a job and that we are slowly digging ourselves out of "that financial hole we got ourselves into".<br />
<br />
Thank God!<br />
<br />
Well, off to microwave some mini bagel pizzas for the kids' breakfast.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-55920576097907139342016-12-21T16:46:00.000-07:002016-12-21T16:46:30.147-07:00Chrstmas photosThis year was a lot easier. There was very little yelling or threats.<br />
<br />
I feel like maybe after 13 years, the kids are finally getting it down. They know if they just be quiet and do what I ask, it's quicker for them and they can go back in their bedrooms and play on their phones. Or whatever it is that they do.<br />
<br />
Here are some behind the scenes photos. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g2XE0A31hWg/WFsRDiuukTI/AAAAAAABn6E/SHtZZ9HyXMcxXeVVzFIMTPDbg9Nupu-xgCLcB/s1600/holiday-3590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g2XE0A31hWg/WFsRDiuukTI/AAAAAAABn6E/SHtZZ9HyXMcxXeVVzFIMTPDbg9Nupu-xgCLcB/s400/holiday-3590.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HJ_4D-eX8XA/WFsRGLBI-5I/AAAAAAABn6I/qZBV_0eGq-wmmjawj526OWBlX01TvdtYwCLcB/s1600/holiday-3589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HJ_4D-eX8XA/WFsRGLBI-5I/AAAAAAABn6I/qZBV_0eGq-wmmjawj526OWBlX01TvdtYwCLcB/s400/holiday-3589.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I purchased the dog sweaters and the bed at Petco the day before. They were having a super cool sale and I have to say that Petco is my new favorite pet store. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm in there every Saturday with Chloe. Everyone is always so nice and the trainer even works with Chloe a little bit when he gets a chance. She is getting so much better. In fact, she even has a home visit this weekend. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm so happy to think that Chloe will wake up in someone's home on Christmas morning. Hopefully, she isn't too wild and crazy. She is sometimes like a bull in a china shop when she gets excited.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--pt0nakrYpU/WFsR7UDwWxI/AAAAAAABn6M/Q7XB6fux190y4rOxT1jhTNqdzs6nR-wTQCKgB/s1600/IMG_20161217_104130185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--pt0nakrYpU/WFsR7UDwWxI/AAAAAAABn6M/Q7XB6fux190y4rOxT1jhTNqdzs6nR-wTQCKgB/s400/IMG_20161217_104130185.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
Here she is. Isn't she the cutest darn thing you've ever seen? We were at the Oro Valley Marketplace and they had a giant Christmas tree. I had her sit in front of it.<br />
<br />
You can just tell from her face that she is excited, huh? She knows Santa is coming.<br />
<br />
That's it for today.<br />
<br />
What? You thought I'd put the official Christmas photo on?<br />
<br />
NO!<br />
<br />
It's not Christmas!<br />
<br />
Here is a link from 2014 with links to other Christmas card photos:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://heatherlb.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-annual-christmas-card-photo-shoot.html" target="_blank">Christmas past</a><br />
<br />
I just realized that I don't have pictures from 2015 Christmas on there. That's because 2015 sucked horribly. Hang on....the pictures weren't too bad though.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BfFEvoKwrL8/WFsTEqCkARI/AAAAAAABn6c/q2BZiV0kXcQfVv4FpD524j7u1M1TUgFVQCLcB/s1600/ShannonCherry-8632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BfFEvoKwrL8/WFsTEqCkARI/AAAAAAABn6c/q2BZiV0kXcQfVv4FpD524j7u1M1TUgFVQCLcB/s400/ShannonCherry-8632.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Oh, wait. That's just two of the dogs. Hang on. I'm still looking...<br />
<br />
Here we go. I did a collage of photos. I couldn't just pick one. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sEFdOPBavHE/WFsTWqZtyGI/AAAAAAABn6k/WTUS2yACplw-FB6hZybuLJ8K6mGf3nhMACLcB/s1600/hristmas-8691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sEFdOPBavHE/WFsTWqZtyGI/AAAAAAABn6k/WTUS2yACplw-FB6hZybuLJ8K6mGf3nhMACLcB/s400/hristmas-8691.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yIRwLMYQuLk/WFsTXOv-13I/AAAAAAABn6o/Ppn3ez8S6xoxRLlw_LMNkPl0wABNdta9ACLcB/s1600/hristmas-8730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yIRwLMYQuLk/WFsTXOv-13I/AAAAAAABn6o/Ppn3ez8S6xoxRLlw_LMNkPl0wABNdta9ACLcB/s400/hristmas-8730.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SC7CDpRS85E/WFsTWGIXy7I/AAAAAAABn6g/2myKjuucaxUsGajBRx7GwPdanNdp6RXcQCLcB/s1600/hristmas-8746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SC7CDpRS85E/WFsTWGIXy7I/AAAAAAABn6g/2myKjuucaxUsGajBRx7GwPdanNdp6RXcQCLcB/s400/hristmas-8746.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M_4yQKSOm6I/WFsTYI9aV9I/AAAAAAABn6s/FRyrVOMvAx80_qMd9N35iuZEK0Et7oulQCLcB/s1600/hristmas-8773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M_4yQKSOm6I/WFsTYI9aV9I/AAAAAAABn6s/FRyrVOMvAx80_qMd9N35iuZEK0Et7oulQCLcB/s400/hristmas-8773.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Yes, those were really on our Christmas card 2015. I had to yell to get them into position. Like I said, this year I think they understand how it works.<br />
<br />
See ya later.A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-11613108557415132322016-08-11T15:11:00.001-07:002016-08-11T15:11:04.824-07:00First day of school photos, better known as......Trent still wants to hurt me for taking his picture.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-On54r0q1GvQ/V6ztiCHcgNI/AAAAAAABhUo/8oCvhQ2diMEVH6lHgnsSNtRaJyXVPQE8wCLcB/s1600/_MG_1294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-On54r0q1GvQ/V6ztiCHcgNI/AAAAAAABhUo/8oCvhQ2diMEVH6lHgnsSNtRaJyXVPQE8wCLcB/s400/_MG_1294.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Well, it's that time of year again. It's hot, it's raining and humid and it's BACK TO SCHOOL!<br />
<br />
It was another boring summer. At least it was better than last year when Erik was out of work.<br />
<br />
Kat and I did a couple of dog training classes with Shannon and Cherry.<br />
Trent spent a lot of time in his room on his phone.<br />
Kat and I went to Phoenix to see Twenty-one Pilots<br />
Trent spent a lot of time in his room on his phone.<br />
Kat also spent a lot of time in her room on her phone.<br />
They both binge watched Supernatural on Netflix.<br />
The three of us talked Erik into getting a pool.<br />
Trent did some work with Jay being "toad boy" and "snake wrangler" for his classes. He made a bit of money.<br />
We saw three movies: Finding Dory, The Secret Life of Pets, and Suicide Squad <br />
Trent spent time with his girlfriend.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
...and I think that's about it.<br />
<br />
Do you see Trent's face? He wants to kill me. I think he's still pissed at me from yesterday. Apparently I'm oh-so-embarrasing every time his girlfriend comes over. She was over yesterday.<br />
<br />
and Kat? She's so impatient with me. It's like she's saying, "TAKE THE DAMN PICTURE ALREADY!" BTW, I see that eyeliner. It's something we'll be talking about when she gets home. Why didn't I notice it at 6:20 this morning? <br />
<br />
Let's look back at 2009 when Trent was going into 3rd grade and Kat was starting Kindergarten:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ta5HjcpWpqM/V6zwQh-2L7I/AAAAAAABhU8/7EB6EuKbfds3-TI8I47ZO5eVZ8NNzptNQCLcB/s1600/2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ta5HjcpWpqM/V6zwQh-2L7I/AAAAAAABhU8/7EB6EuKbfds3-TI8I47ZO5eVZ8NNzptNQCLcB/s400/2009.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Awwww! Trent doesn't look so mad and he is hugging his sister. When did this change?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rxPxv19ksu4/V6zxDl2BO9I/AAAAAAABhVE/zb9FmKl-Dds9eGGnpOPlqsQCN70V21eJgCLcB/s1600/2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rxPxv19ksu4/V6zxDl2BO9I/AAAAAAABhVE/zb9FmKl-Dds9eGGnpOPlqsQCN70V21eJgCLcB/s400/2010.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2010</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Nope, not here. They're still looking pretty happy here. Let's go to 2011:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rOgVHgKO8c0/V6zxyoI3rOI/AAAAAAABhVQ/rU7aoV1W440ENg1zfzJlETmlX9j9xjc9ACLcB/s1600/2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rOgVHgKO8c0/V6zxyoI3rOI/AAAAAAABhVQ/rU7aoV1W440ENg1zfzJlETmlX9j9xjc9ACLcB/s400/2011.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2011</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ahhh, here we go! 2011 was the time of change. Trent is tired of my photo taking and Kat's hair has some color. She was going all black by 2nd grade.<br />
<br />
Let's check out 2012 (by the way, this is taking me forever to go back and find these photos):<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UOf2BtRu90w/V6zz6ds0c9I/AAAAAAABhVg/_3pWSCueMqgy5iq8OqX9kWkDUxqH49urACLcB/s1600/2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UOf2BtRu90w/V6zz6ds0c9I/AAAAAAABhVg/_3pWSCueMqgy5iq8OqX9kWkDUxqH49urACLcB/s400/2012.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2012</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We're not touching or pretending to know each other anymore.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CITBk2nzc2w/V6z0VR1uReI/AAAAAAABhVo/QjRvUz5Gn-YAZU1fmdHtaETJY3xI1VWkQCLcB/s1600/2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CITBk2nzc2w/V6z0VR1uReI/AAAAAAABhVo/QjRvUz5Gn-YAZU1fmdHtaETJY3xI1VWkQCLcB/s400/2013.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2013</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At least we're smiling.<br />
<br />
<br />
<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;">2014</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015</td></tr>
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Everyone looks tired and sad. :( I think Erik being out of work for so long took a bigger toll on everyone than we thought.<br />
<br />
Here's the rest of photos from today:<br />
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<br />
This year all they wanted was band merchandise and black. I'm sure by the end of the year, it will be easy to tell which is the start of school pic and which is the end of school pic. Their shirts will be gray instead of black.<br />
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If you don't know this, I always take a picture of the first day and then on the last day of school, they wear what they wore on the first day.<br />
<br />
Oh, and I just heard the bus roll by....gotta go. They're finally HOME!A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-20903948035864765262016-08-08T17:45:00.001-07:002016-08-08T17:45:41.706-07:00I love this face<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
She was named Twitchtip when she first came in to PACC as a stray on 3/11/2014. The kids and I had made a list of names for the Evaluation Team to give stray animals. Twitchtip is a giant talking rat in a children's book, "Gregor and the Prophecy of Bane". She helps Gregor (a human boy) throughout the book until her death.<br />
<br />
Around six weeks, she went to Pima Paws for Life on 4/24/14 for a Upper Respiratory Infection. After treatment, she came back and was adopted 5/24/14.<br />
<br />
She had a name change to Chloe and a home for 2 years.<br />
<br />
The owners returned her on 6/23, with a 25cm long laceration on her left shoulder. There are no notes (apparently) that explain how this happened. I'm assuming she was returned because they couldn't afford vet treatment. This happens, unfortunately, quite a bit.<br />
<br />
She sat in sickbay at PACC while the shoulder healed and while there, she got ANOTHER Upper Respiratory Infection. After that was healed, she sat in the back kennels, nearly unseen, until they're sure she's over her infection. She was starting to get a little depressed being stuck in a kennel for so long with very little exposure to potential adopters. I couldn't stand to see her there anymore. She had been moved up front to the kennels with more exposure, but she had been passed up during 2 free adoption events. I think that sometimes when people see an animal has been there for awhile and there is no easy to find explanation as to why, they pass over them a little quicker.<br />
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I love those ears. I love her cute face. I think she looks like a cute rat when she smiles. I named her back to Twitchtip right away. She responds to "Twitchy".<br />
<br />
She's all gray with the exception of a little white on her chest. She now has a Frankenstein type scar on her left shoulder. It would make great conversation starters!<br />
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She is also a leaner. If you're standing next to her, she'll lean on you.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twitchy calm and relaxed on the floor</td></tr>
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<br />
If you sit on the floor next to her, she'll want to sit in your lap.<br />
Just her rear end.<br />
She doesn't want to smother you.<br />
Just be close to you.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I call her name she looks like this</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />
She is horrible on a leash. She really is. She pulls and pulls but that's something we're working on.<br />
<br />
You have to watch her closely when you go down the toy aisle in the pet store because she grabs what she wants and just takes it with her. I know this part for a fact. I've purchased a stuffed toy, a ball and a frisbee that she took off the shelf.<br />
<br />
She loves to chase the ball and will bring it back to you. She won't give it up right away but as long as you don't try to pull it out of her mouth, she'll eventually drop it.<br />
<br />
She loves ALL toys.<br />
She doesn't beg at the table for human food.<br />
She LOVES the water. We have a baby pool that she likes to sit in. I'm not sure how well she would do in a big pool.<br />
She seems to be doing well in a crate.<br />
<br />
You'll need a very secure back yard because we have discovered that she is a digger. She was put in one kennel in the evening and the next morning she was hanging out with her neighbor in the kennel next door.<br />
<br />
She seems good with other dogs (most of them. She growled at one of my females) and we took her for a cat test today which she seemed to pass.<br />
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She also LOVES my 12 year old daughter and loves to cuddle with her.<br />
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<br />
She is so beautiful and really so mellow and well behaved. I know she will make a great addition to any family. She is available for adoption through <a href="http://www.lovar.org/" target="_blank">Lifeline Oro Valley</a>. 520-979-2282A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-47479014239773774602016-08-07T10:19:00.000-07:002016-08-07T10:20:08.395-07:00I loathe the dog parkThe family and I got up early this fine Sunday morning to take pictures of a couple of new fosters for Cold Wet Noses.<br />
<br />
We met at a new place (for me). Unfortunately, there wasn't any grass around so we ended up going into the empty dog park to give some time to the dogs to relax a bit before I started taking photos.<br />
<br />
We were there for maybe 15 minutes and I got a few photos. A car pulled up with a dog and the foster knowing that her dogs were a bit reactive, wanted to leave before the other dog came in.<br />
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We got them leashed up and started heading out. I asked the gentlemen to please hold off coming in until we were out. He kindly agreed.<br />
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We got one dog out and then we started hearing the frantic barks and cries from a group of dogs that had just pulled up in a different vehicle.<br />
<br />
Erik had the second dog, Oreo, and was still in the dog park when one of the dogs from the group that just pulled up got loose and started running towards Erik and Oreo. Erik closed the gate from inside the park. This loose dog was nearly frothing at the mouth.<br />
<br />
What scared the hell out of me was that I looked and saw Kat standing at the opening of the first gate with her coffee in one hand and this 80 pound dog, barking, running and growling, coming right towards her.<br />
<br />
Before I could do or say anything, Kat reached down with her one empty hand, grabbed the dogs leash and stood there. The dog wasn't looking at Kat but at Oreo and was still lunging and barking. <br />
<br />
So there is Kat with a coffee in one hand and a scary dog on a leash in the other hand. The expression on Kat's faced never changed from calm. It was like she had reached for a sandwich. No panic. Nothing.<br />
<br />
I got to Kat about the same time the owner did with his other two dogs (which were also lunging and pulling on the leash) . He said, "Don't worry he's friendly".<br />
<br />
I just looked at him and told him how lucky he was that Kat was standing there and was able to grab the leash.<br />
<br />
No "sorry".<br />
No "thank you".<br />
Nothing.<br />
<br />
Instead he proceeded to take all three dogs into the park.<br />
<br />
I asked him to hang on because we were still trying to get Oreo out. Before he went into the second gate into the dog park, I turned around to close the outer gate so we wouldn't have an escapee.<br />
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He actually looked at me when I did this and said, "Why bother? The dogs are all on a leash. They aren't going anywhere."<br />
<br />
I wanted to kick him. Dude, your dog was just on a leash, loose and my 12 year old daughter caught him. Asshole.<br />
<br />
Finally, we got Oreo out.<br />
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By that time, both dogs were worked up. Actually, all of us...dogs and humans were worked up. We tried to get some more pictures but we'll see how those end up. <br />
<br />
At the same time, there was what looked like a mastiff/pit mix in the parking lot. He was HUGE. A tiny woman was trying to control him as he pulled her across the parking lot, barking and crying. She would try to stop walking when he did this. If he didn't stop crying and barking, I saw her do the ol' Cesar Millan finger punch to the shoulder with the "tssss" sound.<br />
<br />
We left shortly after this. Even the foster mom I had met to take pictures of was stunned at what was going on. It was pure chaos.<br />
<br />
In the car I yelled at Katrina for reaching for a dog that looked aggressive but still told her how impressed I was.<br />
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"Don't ever do it again", was the last thing I said.<br />
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I HATE the dog park.<br />
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Now I'm home and I need a nap because I'm mentally exhausted.<br />
<br />
And here's a picture because pictures are important. It's Kat a few months back in dog class at The Complete Canine. Shannon is trying to sneak treats from her hand.<br />
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<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-20475920187773643042016-03-21T17:33:00.002-07:002016-03-21T17:33:36.337-07:00Shiny Polyester When I was 11 and my sister was 6? 7? (I can't seem to remember our age difference), my parents plucked us out of our teeny tiny hometown of Ottawa, Illinois.<br />
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I remember looking at the back window of the car as we drove out of town. I was crying and promised my self that I would be back one way or the other within 6 months.<br />
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I was only 11. I was naive. What did I know?<br />
<br />
This was 1980. If you do the math right, you'll get my age.<br />
<br />
I hated school once I got here. I never was able to make friends and I was an outcast because I didn't wear designer jeans or Nike shoes. In fact, I was made fun of even more because a lot of my clothes were sewn by my grandmother.<br />
<br />
I remember the first day back to school after Christmas. I loved Grandma's clothes and there was one special outfit that she had made for me that Christmas I thought for sure would make me <strike>popular</strike> <strike>with </strike>accepted by the girls and boys.<br />
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The boxes arrived by UPS and my mother would have to wrap everything in Christmas paper. Grandma smoked and all sewn items/gifts were wrapped in dryer sheets to soak up the cigarette smell.<br />
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Mom said that I was allergic to cigarette smoke, but just a few years later, I found out that was just one lie I was told. I had no problem smoking cigarettes at 15. Sheesh!<br />
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Christmas morning came and I unwrapped the gifts from Grandma. All beautiful! But like I said, there was one special outfit and it kind of looked like this:<br />
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<br />
<br />
It was all three pieces!<br />
In white!<br />
In shining polyester!<br />
<br />
Oh, you didn't think I was talking about the dress, did you?<br />
<br />
No. I received this gorgeous 3 piece white polyester suit. And I couldn't wait for Christmas break to be over.<br />
<br />
The first day back to school was a day I looked forward to. However, I was hot. I mean really hot. I had still not acclimated to the weather and was still wearing shorts to school in December and felt perfectly fine. I'm used to snow and freezing cold. This polyester suit was hot!<br />
<br />
I was sweating before I even got to school. I think I wore a pair of clogs with this outfit. Not too sure about what shirt I wore underneath but it didn't matter. I was lookin' good with my white polyester suit, my over sized framed glasses with the rhinestone "H" on the bottom right lens and my clogs.<br />
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I threw my backpack down next to the door of my class when my teacher walked out and saw me.<br />
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She looked me up and down and said, "Oh, Heatherrrrrrr". I took that as a compliment but looking back on it now, I think it was a warning.<br />
<br />
She was probably thinking it but couldn't say it, "Oh, Heatherrrrrr, you are so going to get your ass kicked."<br />
<br />
She smiled and I smiled and said, "My Grandma made this for me!"<br />
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I don't remember her reaction.<br />
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I do remember the snickers and the giggles and the pointing and the "God, you're so ugly" comments from the kids in my 6th grade class.<br />
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But for some reason, this time it didn't bother me. I would get my ass kicked years later for something else but I knew at this time that I looked good and that someone loved me enough to take the time to make this beautiful specimen that reflected the 80's.<br />
<br />
I was smokin'!<br />
I was an 11 year old in a shiny, white, polyester, 3 piece suit.<br />
When I think about it today, it's a nice memory and I miss my grandma.<br />
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<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-31490171654856202952016-02-01T19:23:00.000-07:002017-04-18T18:14:38.045-07:00House of Circlestime to get up<br />
why<br />
the kids are going to school<br />
erik will take care of it<br />
good bye mom<br />
good bye<br />
love you<br />
have a good day<br />
lock the door<br />
ok<br />
time to get up now<br />
no<br />
why<br />
the dogs need to pee<br />
you need to clean<br />
you need to do something<br />
anything<br />
apply for a job<br />
watch a movie <br />
clean the house<br />
mop up pee<br />
fine<br />
not qualified for job<br />
see therapist <br />
get out of the house<br />
go shopping<br />
don't buy anything<br />
no money<br />
do i want to work here<br />
no<br />
i will miss the kids<br />
i will miss the dogs<br />
i won't be able to clean<br />
i won't be able to make meals<br />
i won't be able to sleep<br />
go to next store<br />
i don't want to work here either<br />
why did i go to school<br />
dogs fight<br />
blood<br />
medication<br />
order pizza <br />
go to bed<br />
<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15688507.post-90435951878367401722016-01-18T19:41:00.001-07:002017-04-18T18:16:15.361-07:00I really hate this time of yearIt seems to me that most people start the new year with hope and a fresh start.<br />
<br />
Not me.<br />
<br />
It's my birthday month and I start to reflect on all the crap that went wrong the year before, the goals I didn't reach, how much more I weigh and how much more I can carry on my shoulders from this point forward.<br />
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I try to define myself and feel like I never can. <br />
<br />
Yeah, it's not a happy time for me but I've never been that happy type of person.<br />
<br />
If you're looking for sunshine and rainbows, move along to another blog. If you're not looking for that, I'll just remind you that misery loves company.<br />
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Every time this year, I am relieved that Christmas is over but at the same time I kind of miss it. It's always so stressful and I almost HATE every. single. second. of December.<br />
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"Next year it will be better". I say this every year. I don't even think we listened to any Christmas music this year. Was I that busy?<br />
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The older the kids get, the less they need me and I don't know what to do with myself during the day when they're not here. Sometimes I just don't get out of bed. For days.<br />
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I've stopped cooking. I have 48 cans of soup in the pantry and there have been no complaints. No one misses my cooking so why should I bother?<br />
<br />
I keep buying scrapbook supplies but haven't created anything in quite awhile. I'm not sure why. My newer scrapbooking material sits around my bed like a protective wall. All I want to do is sit down and create something but there is this invisible force that prevents me from doing so. "I'll do it tomorrow" is my usual saying.<br />
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I got a Cricut Explore for Christmas and I finally figured out how to use it and made Katrina a Chappie shirt. <br />
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<br />
So that's about the only thing I've done this year. I know it's only the 18th but I'm already feeling guilty for not doing much with the machine. I have intentions. That's all I have. Lots and lots and lots of intentions.<br />
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You know what is even worse? I haven't been to the shelter in a month. Maybe more. I have no desire to go back. I can't look at the animals' faces and I can't watch them die. And right now, burying my head in the sand feels a lot better than going in and dealing with the animals and some of the people that help them.<br />
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But, I know how I feel after visiting the animals. I mostly feel refreshed and rejuvenated and I really need to get my ass down there and walk a dog or something. <br />
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I also know I need a job. I was very disappointed when my seasonal Kohl's job was just that: Seasonal.<br />
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I took it harder than I thought. I spent a week sulking in bed watching every Girls episode on HBO.<br />
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At the end of the week, I got up and applied on-line to Tuesday Morning. I go there once a week so I thought that would be a good job for me. I was rejected within 30 minutes.<br />
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Oh, and lets not even start about the whole vet assistant/vet tech thing, OK? I still haven't decided if that was a mistake or not. I LOVED school and I graduated with honors but finding a job has been tough. There are also many aspects of the job that I don't think I like. My teacher warned me several times that I would need to grow a thicker skin.<br />
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But with even graduating with honors, I wasn't allowed to volunteer any of my newly learned skillz at PACC. They didn't want me in anywhere in their clinics. THAT stung. Badly. Very badly. <br />
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I remember sitting in the guy's office at PMI back in August 2014 and he asked me why I wanted to be a vet assistant/tech.<br />
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"Well", I started, "I want to educate people on vaccinations, spaying and neutering. I want to help the working poor keep their dogs healthy and loved".<br />
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"Oh!" he said. "You want to do God's work." I looked at him and blushed. I just wanted to help. Looking back on that conversation now I think, "I was so fucking naive". How could I be so naive at my age? How was I duped into thinking I could do something so remarkable?<br />
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I had been to Dog Patch, I had worked the SOS desk, I had worked at PACC and with rescues. I went to school to learn how to help.<br />
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I think I just want to put that on the back burner for awhile. Maybe there is something else I can do with animals. I applied at Petsmart today as either a cashier or dog bather.<br />
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I also applied at Hallmark as a merchandise re-stocker. I think I would be good at Hallmark as long as I don't read the cards. Some of you know how easy I cry, right? I'd probably get tears all over the cards and then I'd be fired for that.<br />
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Erik and I are still trying to catch up from when the UofA fucked us over so badly, leaving us unemployed for 7.5 months. I haven't even written about it and I'm not sure when or if I will. <br />
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False rumors of our financial situation made the rounds through the family and horrible assumptions were made. I was caught off guard by one of the most insulting and degrading letters I've ever received. I answered the letter but Erik never allowed me to mail it.<br />
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We'll see what happens for 2016.<br />
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Sorry I'm in such a crappy mood.<br />
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I got it all out so maybe tomorrow will be better.<br />
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You know, fresh start and all.<br />
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<br />A Little Timehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422958482433573184noreply@blogger.com0