tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-869640248704731322024-02-20T21:49:34.265-06:00Commonplace CrazyI chat about spoiling grandchildren, teaching good grammar, and loving life. Through it all runs a sense of humor that laughs at life's little absurdities, because in my life, crazy is commonplace. I love having readers come by for a visit, a cup of coffee, and a good laugh together.Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comBlogger239125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-51105862102613089612019-11-24T14:58:00.000-06:002019-11-24T14:58:10.512-06:00Bringing You Up to DateWell, it's been awhile since I last posted and I thought you should be brought up to date.<br />
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I've turned 60 since the last time I posted. I still look something like the woman in the upper right hand corner. Sort of.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MziZcBjHNGLw4C-nozvvb4ZZdTR5kT8_jE-v0zJo6rkLpSEvvF0v3bUfBq6GxYkA7beE7us572tuEFGOjAEuM22YLA1di9VIu1uAnzkvdMgPLL-qDI9BreGMmvmdTXbHNIvv0fTYW8g/s1600/20191123_151931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="older woman in a black shirt posing casually " border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MziZcBjHNGLw4C-nozvvb4ZZdTR5kT8_jE-v0zJo6rkLpSEvvF0v3bUfBq6GxYkA7beE7us572tuEFGOjAEuM22YLA1di9VIu1uAnzkvdMgPLL-qDI9BreGMmvmdTXbHNIvv0fTYW8g/s400/20191123_151931.jpg" title="This is me" width="300" /></a></div>
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I'm still married to my Hillbilly.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjhSqpmSc5KOcI1m3xga6MlhgVkG1e7-wpi2RwdfUlVswVQTI8RYFLOo1JSNCNG2mQbNydNX2MFidf5NjMuQAm2WiK5nIKny1y7nHYrxPXwI_1d0998q86ninwo50SfCV_mJo3sJkAwYU/s1600/50YrReunion2+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="man in blue plaid shirt standing next to woman in red blouse" border="0" data-original-height="1019" data-original-width="1600" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjhSqpmSc5KOcI1m3xga6MlhgVkG1e7-wpi2RwdfUlVswVQTI8RYFLOo1JSNCNG2mQbNydNX2MFidf5NjMuQAm2WiK5nIKny1y7nHYrxPXwI_1d0998q86ninwo50SfCV_mJo3sJkAwYU/s640/50YrReunion2+%25282%2529.JPG" title="My Hillbilly and I" width="640" /></a></div>
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And Alyssa from <a href="http://nearnormalcy.com/" target="_blank">NearNormalcy.com</a> is still my daughter.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2c7nep73fmvXNSxBvu99Luqbpx64I5OZE1w4t9tLQ8seQFVMhGckttr3bv__BtqJPpFW8CWT8FKlrueJD7p0Ld3ymSjc9FqYLzreaKprttRnn85UrMNmvPt3PxhTv-BH1N6sRYc0t5Gc/s1600/received_371471173553945.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="mother and adult daughter smiling" border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="496" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2c7nep73fmvXNSxBvu99Luqbpx64I5OZE1w4t9tLQ8seQFVMhGckttr3bv__BtqJPpFW8CWT8FKlrueJD7p0Ld3ymSjc9FqYLzreaKprttRnn85UrMNmvPt3PxhTv-BH1N6sRYc0t5Gc/s400/received_371471173553945.jpeg" title="Cynthia and Alyssa" width="400" /> </a></div>
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On the other hand, The Princess is a TEENAGER now!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8b5DVj7_HAQstHDaFCLPhHx2FQHkhx-KJyz2o7zG7SVEUdD5U7YZh6FSjZP_IWuYkr0Pa9XWDkbQRUTKwsLb_edvy776E-SeG7ngYKhUKOmw2BlLd4pXsLlQMhKoIsRckgy2QIU3xk8/s1600/received_511723852979264.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Teenage girl looking over her shoulder" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8b5DVj7_HAQstHDaFCLPhHx2FQHkhx-KJyz2o7zG7SVEUdD5U7YZh6FSjZP_IWuYkr0Pa9XWDkbQRUTKwsLb_edvy776E-SeG7ngYKhUKOmw2BlLd4pXsLlQMhKoIsRckgy2QIU3xk8/s400/received_511723852979264.jpeg" title="The Princess" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbH7vQ6-oXRo4_jxgW_nymSuhe8ymTA3rK7vcDtcpvEOwm23Ths2QvWMeBmHC6fCdM_IczVNagzHGZwAD-zQgRHs6tfiLGNV2aDKODyWHOA-oEVHi8O4hJNi3gbaSJ-b8X8rIBwjOpds/s1600/facebook_1564267867732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Teenage girl sitting with phone wearing ripped jeans and striped tshirt" border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbH7vQ6-oXRo4_jxgW_nymSuhe8ymTA3rK7vcDtcpvEOwm23Ths2QvWMeBmHC6fCdM_IczVNagzHGZwAD-zQgRHs6tfiLGNV2aDKODyWHOA-oEVHi8O4hJNi3gbaSJ-b8X8rIBwjOpds/s400/facebook_1564267867732.jpg" title="Adorable Princess" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's still adorable!</td></tr>
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THE BIGGEST NEWS IS I'VE RETIRED FROM TEACHING!</div>
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That's right! My Hillbilly and I have retired and moved to the land of his birth, Missouri. Let me tell you, that's been a big adjustment for this California girl!</div>
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I've had to get used to having views like this from my front porch!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_RnbG_Flqh8sx1fAgeX9V6o_UlAlMhho5tQTK1pof31RnArM-EOEsxcNKns70d6Tk1ax1M7WPqglnbt2VfWoDuOlAUY6PpmUQqR4_lPoz8SEMtsxxybaDjUtlzTehXdQfInJ-WHnVhM/s1600/20190418_195003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Purple sunset through trees in Missouri" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_RnbG_Flqh8sx1fAgeX9V6o_UlAlMhho5tQTK1pof31RnArM-EOEsxcNKns70d6Tk1ax1M7WPqglnbt2VfWoDuOlAUY6PpmUQqR4_lPoz8SEMtsxxybaDjUtlzTehXdQfInJ-WHnVhM/s640/20190418_195003.jpg" title="Purple Sunset" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82fvgE7yNW0mU4A5bZ3WrPQE7xhvSSdxUiS-2OEDxgtgD4J75XS5TWoyQdDlhJpdXIEH8sLeNovytPi6st-E5owlLi12jOm35owi-hjm5TvTDWJ8CM53H8UXOsRR67b2fsRsAv6BiKKI/s1600/52641229_10213255457693587_8999272866826420224_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Yellow and orange sunset through trees in Missouri" border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82fvgE7yNW0mU4A5bZ3WrPQE7xhvSSdxUiS-2OEDxgtgD4J75XS5TWoyQdDlhJpdXIEH8sLeNovytPi6st-E5owlLi12jOm35owi-hjm5TvTDWJ8CM53H8UXOsRR67b2fsRsAv6BiKKI/s640/52641229_10213255457693587_8999272866826420224_o.jpg" title="Missouri Sunset" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtkuL7K-U-pqS4XNTuQVZLSsh1E5-tBSpPsV5MIRj7FridRScIcSDvIcTR_nMPC08eWUBJ8MW4TRVxesIxP2qPaVmLUyKQ-ziWXK7dExev3uiyIJluPZgjYwY5yLCVOAUGxQltEUajTE/s1600/59543385_10213666790056639_2170561211656044544_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Trees casting long shadows in Missouri yard" border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtkuL7K-U-pqS4XNTuQVZLSsh1E5-tBSpPsV5MIRj7FridRScIcSDvIcTR_nMPC08eWUBJ8MW4TRVxesIxP2qPaVmLUyKQ-ziWXK7dExev3uiyIJluPZgjYwY5yLCVOAUGxQltEUajTE/s640/59543385_10213666790056639_2170561211656044544_o.jpg" title="Long shadows" width="640" /></a></div>
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And sometimes the neighbors come to visit.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Dc9IuI7CoE0vWcmEqoZYCUP-xn1Z_CUDU7aFlFjLMIHMymK7QXhCqBl9Yf46dyd7Q17BAEo99e1B0eEa5EkjxCEgOaYMpLyKW04wpl_wrQ16o1aucQ07z-9N5hB67onog7L6GxK2PbA/s1600/20191030_132551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="German Shepard dog seen through window standing on porch facing away" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Dc9IuI7CoE0vWcmEqoZYCUP-xn1Z_CUDU7aFlFjLMIHMymK7QXhCqBl9Yf46dyd7Q17BAEo99e1B0eEa5EkjxCEgOaYMpLyKW04wpl_wrQ16o1aucQ07z-9N5hB67onog7L6GxK2PbA/s640/20191030_132551.jpg" title="Neighbor 1" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLwifPe6Y-x7UZyvL3CCInIY_gjeDphMsGTnJqna1al4kZAURIbjGXXnF-g7AH-yKzvh8YXrMM83yQXXnyVKF_TwRdUnmOxEDhjQRISjvLsDjfWsSV07Y3Nc8OplkhTcNv-wlk1ce44M/s1600/20191122_151427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Big yellow dog standing on porch looing in sliding glass door" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLwifPe6Y-x7UZyvL3CCInIY_gjeDphMsGTnJqna1al4kZAURIbjGXXnF-g7AH-yKzvh8YXrMM83yQXXnyVKF_TwRdUnmOxEDhjQRISjvLsDjfWsSV07Y3Nc8OplkhTcNv-wlk1ce44M/s640/20191122_151427.jpg" title="Neighbor 2" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qoilp_-niLWuomkIIHeLJrUueV9eSlTlrxmxVzv4MaQ_hNlPqFpAph5tzdgbkjPClOmQRNGqCzhsk8zESiyxWLm8bqd-_lnL1Zdf61_WWwFD2m_NibI0sLfm90VpPFfRoxxygX42JLQ/s1600/70496496_10214868690463398_3016484067467067392_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Gray squirrel standing on porch looking in sliding glass door" border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qoilp_-niLWuomkIIHeLJrUueV9eSlTlrxmxVzv4MaQ_hNlPqFpAph5tzdgbkjPClOmQRNGqCzhsk8zESiyxWLm8bqd-_lnL1Zdf61_WWwFD2m_NibI0sLfm90VpPFfRoxxygX42JLQ/s640/70496496_10214868690463398_3016484067467067392_o.jpg" title="Neighbor 3" width="476" /></a></div>
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So I think I'd like to write a few blog posts about my adventures in moving and the changes in my life. That is, if anyone is still out there? Do I have any readers? If so, would you mind just saying Hi in the comments?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_u_z2WegFFLUc4C2gf0dtwvGcrAfeeS-1zU4sCg6WomvtGAAO-Wkz0-_Jc0qKN_V-KlM5Riz7XsKnx_K9rH95YdfvHH-72niVjDwcXJzhoE7L3Y-T_UleZ6V445mt00l637ZYQ-mQdrc/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_u_z2WegFFLUc4C2gf0dtwvGcrAfeeS-1zU4sCg6WomvtGAAO-Wkz0-_Jc0qKN_V-KlM5Riz7XsKnx_K9rH95YdfvHH-72niVjDwcXJzhoE7L3Y-T_UleZ6V445mt00l637ZYQ-mQdrc/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.com5Lebanon, MO 65536, USA37.6805967 -92.66378650000001537.580049700000004 -92.825148000000013 37.7811437 -92.502425000000017tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-44346655100706028222019-11-16T08:41:00.003-06:002019-11-23T10:57:21.370-06:00I Don't Know What HappenedHi, y'all. As you know, it's been a long time since I've posted anything new here on my little blog.<br />
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I decided to check on things and clean up dead links, etc.<br />
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Somehow, the Google decided I wanted it to send out an email to my followers with links to several posts. I don't know how that happened.<br />
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I'm sorry if that inconvenienced any of you. Hopefully it doesn't happen again until I actually post something new, which may or may not happen.<br />
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Cynthia<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-12163896238192074442014-08-06T16:15:00.002-05:002019-11-23T10:59:33.015-06:00Wordless Wednesday: My Grandchildren!I know you're shocked that I would use a Wordless Wednesday to share pictures of my grandchildren, but here they are. These are all from a recent trip to California by my Georgia grandchildren, The Model and Number 6.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWrkgfJKrvM6sLqGuhPos9ohDNmxZPIdBt-nAWikxLLYegXF5JKSI64zf0-YoHDbaOJzGB-dyUmydkWA2eX0i4SI-Ku1re1NTtj8Br9jMYsjv9wGD_CYlTW2DYf3q_mzKI7KRJlxVlUAM/s1600/IMG_0130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWrkgfJKrvM6sLqGuhPos9ohDNmxZPIdBt-nAWikxLLYegXF5JKSI64zf0-YoHDbaOJzGB-dyUmydkWA2eX0i4SI-Ku1re1NTtj8Br9jMYsjv9wGD_CYlTW2DYf3q_mzKI7KRJlxVlUAM/s1600/IMG_0130.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Athlete, The Model, Miss Sunshine, and Number 6</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUErg0EEvOnKxUTDfEIhnjs3Lam59Rp7rWUl0w2zoX5f2MkRgIdEz_84_BtJKiUsYKaBHsUaeToHoh0zbs0Aqa9tz4YZk23dcAoPO-Wlj62s7B7twKaOUTQcbX7rzMAUsExG9DSDpJDY/s1600/IMG_0322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUErg0EEvOnKxUTDfEIhnjs3Lam59Rp7rWUl0w2zoX5f2MkRgIdEz_84_BtJKiUsYKaBHsUaeToHoh0zbs0Aqa9tz4YZk23dcAoPO-Wlj62s7B7twKaOUTQcbX7rzMAUsExG9DSDpJDY/s1600/IMG_0322.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Monster and The Princess</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGExuXTal5BoIcV53TnvIGRu1aRBw9lrE_8aidTPcFkAZWed0O_v9Lg2kO6NQbgETBQwUihvuTtEBI8Vwtqd8jlrXBl5Vku34f80gA_jn7zp-1Ha1IKWFIoeNjIq4nLolAjJnYqyys6Ws/s1600/IMG_0192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGExuXTal5BoIcV53TnvIGRu1aRBw9lrE_8aidTPcFkAZWed0O_v9Lg2kO6NQbgETBQwUihvuTtEBI8Vwtqd8jlrXBl5Vku34f80gA_jn7zp-1Ha1IKWFIoeNjIq4nLolAjJnYqyys6Ws/s1600/IMG_0192.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Sunshine and Number 6</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYET5MXTyd8KtZwOqUW38lw9MNSHQGjMTt333W87LFAtEf0B6MbbFXe4l3GcKV3aIOwpEb8gIyuKr5nK0tTG4KGAvIXzoUn094XWg4xICXXYdtnZxzrJeA_oxdqku2V2smKpPwdCWTL44/s1600/IMG_0313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYET5MXTyd8KtZwOqUW38lw9MNSHQGjMTt333W87LFAtEf0B6MbbFXe4l3GcKV3aIOwpEb8gIyuKr5nK0tTG4KGAvIXzoUn094XWg4xICXXYdtnZxzrJeA_oxdqku2V2smKpPwdCWTL44/s1600/IMG_0313.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Athlete and The Model</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIlMfxPD1U1BX01gkzxxxoXG0ss7zgAkorbwnJtmoxCoAexeXJxRa2yUytpvf4J5E1fqgmuFmtPLlyz2e10OuIaegA4qch7eG9EcG-tOUT_O-p8CNg3FBV38ECL_QWKrYLfB-vT1bUYyI/s1600/10527534_10202391869027098_7863724182720951062_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIlMfxPD1U1BX01gkzxxxoXG0ss7zgAkorbwnJtmoxCoAexeXJxRa2yUytpvf4J5E1fqgmuFmtPLlyz2e10OuIaegA4qch7eG9EcG-tOUT_O-p8CNg3FBV38ECL_QWKrYLfB-vT1bUYyI/s1600/10527534_10202391869027098_7863724182720951062_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Princess and The Model</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NaQYjiILfUNiSjhUuCXjXtrqChpUHaUg11i0pfhuA_p9R8EBnmLeXKrXUVvBK4s9VEKn4OJthQoy9UMalGATWxjdMgf3BjjVlCQwYz2qmCdcsSvViCEsVXk5HP8cwjGAEvEORZ7gsIs/s1600/IMG_9824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NaQYjiILfUNiSjhUuCXjXtrqChpUHaUg11i0pfhuA_p9R8EBnmLeXKrXUVvBK4s9VEKn4OJthQoy9UMalGATWxjdMgf3BjjVlCQwYz2qmCdcsSvViCEsVXk5HP8cwjGAEvEORZ7gsIs/s1600/IMG_9824.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Monster, The Princess, and The Model</td></tr>
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Okay, this is where you leave a comment telling me how adorable my grandchildren are! Thanks.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-70187214478050144902014-05-03T18:58:00.001-05:002019-11-20T23:07:06.589-06:00DIY Filing Cabinet Makeover<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Guess what, y'all! I went and got crafty! I know! Who would have thought?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, my foray into craftiness was brought about by necessity. See, the teacher who was in my classroom before me left me 3 filing cabinets when he retired. Apparently his filing system included using a sharpie on the outside of the cabinets themselves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUx-exbVXKW6qrexoXfzvYPxJVJXRpuLZn-esXJtIb3diIJYrJBqliH2oQFo2Zi4n7k_yCuKrq_09KUzjbR55nIWE1jmZzBfK-Z0lhDbdbJrDPT6CcyJtSw98ONo9D-PjicEd07oU6N8w/s1600/Marker-on-cabinet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Filing-cabinet-before" border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUx-exbVXKW6qrexoXfzvYPxJVJXRpuLZn-esXJtIb3diIJYrJBqliH2oQFo2Zi4n7k_yCuKrq_09KUzjbR55nIWE1jmZzBfK-Z0lhDbdbJrDPT6CcyJtSw98ONo9D-PjicEd07oU6N8w/s1600/Marker-on-cabinet.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It took me a while to decide what I wanted to do with the cabinets, but I knew I wanted to do something. Whatever I did had to be fairly simple because I needed to work on it during the school day between classes and during lunch. I couldn't take the cabinets apart because they were already full, and there was no room in the classroom to conveniently store the contents while I worked on them. Also, it needed to be cheap. If I'm going to spend a lot of money in my classroom, it needs to be for something that will directly benefit my students -- <a href="http://www.commonplacecrazy.com/2014/04/if-you-give-teen-book.html" target="_blank">books </a>for example. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At first, I tried using decorative scrapbooking paper, but that tore too easily. Then I hit on the idea of colorful duct tape. I was able to do one drawer at a time without leaving a big mess for the kids to get into to. It was easy enough for uncrafty me to do and still looks good. Here are some pictures in progress and finished.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJllzBqSbxpugflPaeT_8yeoWIJz4gBd7vAm4A44wXYGjvSRA93hdcDG1WEpMczLyhCpx1OYAVF6nzKZ3l8fLm_yvN4CHbV9RLadUlmX32t9uhJCWmwFV8myuj9zZEV1NZ4SIO9Wb1ds/s1600/DIY-cabinet-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJllzBqSbxpugflPaeT_8yeoWIJz4gBd7vAm4A44wXYGjvSRA93hdcDG1WEpMczLyhCpx1OYAVF6nzKZ3l8fLm_yvN4CHbV9RLadUlmX32t9uhJCWmwFV8myuj9zZEV1NZ4SIO9Wb1ds/s1600/DIY-cabinet-1.jpg" width="480" /> </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LNv03NANpJHASW1aUd1L6XICzY-RM7CuLoRRIEVmNdAE9AZx_d-WRKtIalkHXQYT0onQt1S6L9kK_C03xBNXZ4mR_JQSo2U3iUQUd6o5Bj0VQB6IjqkKo7F7EHE2RW51ayds3SDDl0U/s1600/2014-04-09+08.34.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LNv03NANpJHASW1aUd1L6XICzY-RM7CuLoRRIEVmNdAE9AZx_d-WRKtIalkHXQYT0onQt1S6L9kK_C03xBNXZ4mR_JQSo2U3iUQUd6o5Bj0VQB6IjqkKo7F7EHE2RW51ayds3SDDl0U/s1600/2014-04-09+08.34.32.jpg" width="480" /> </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kV1kLWCdE4JaiMVWtvmTW5wQqYAhmvIUdjkIi4I94i30h4OxQbrzdAtqCBBEiPQ_LjscdONI-ucu31dbr03kxJKR1ID-q1lhrBMo5ixMO1CT9YXlc-mlhA8xdyNdaxLsZyUZ1PIVBPY/s1600/2014-04-09+08.34.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kV1kLWCdE4JaiMVWtvmTW5wQqYAhmvIUdjkIi4I94i30h4OxQbrzdAtqCBBEiPQ_LjscdONI-ucu31dbr03kxJKR1ID-q1lhrBMo5ixMO1CT9YXlc-mlhA8xdyNdaxLsZyUZ1PIVBPY/s1600/2014-04-09+08.34.10.jpg" width="480" /> </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I used a variety of patterns of Duck brand duct tape plus a washi tape trim to make it look tidy and finished.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm really happy with the way it turned out. It adds quite a bit to the classroom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>What projects have you done with the decorative duct tape?</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-5390017640453617212014-04-28T05:30:00.000-05:002019-11-20T23:07:36.267-06:00An Easter RecapThe weather was glorious Easter Sunday, and the company was perfect. We started the day, just as we do every Sunday, by celebrating the death and resurrection of our Lord. As always, the worship service was uplifting.<br />
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After worship, we all assembled at my mama's house for a wonderful dinner. There was ham, potato salad, fruit salad, broccoli salad, and green salad, along with hot, delicious bread. For dessert we had strawberry shortcake. To celebrate the Hillbilly's birthday, we had the teeniest cake I had ever seen.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCUe7dywNk9BjCnNX_hYPSfcLs28tOdvX-c3IAoTnMWOVjWhYTPW5vNzDqsDxLFz4rFpR6eBymJN4f5MwEFHjW9M5zUlPZlCM7jErLv4_8ZLcuOITtmJ5l1OtecbvZ16SI0gUdbYWd6Y/s1600/HIllbilly_Bday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="birthday-cake" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCUe7dywNk9BjCnNX_hYPSfcLs28tOdvX-c3IAoTnMWOVjWhYTPW5vNzDqsDxLFz4rFpR6eBymJN4f5MwEFHjW9M5zUlPZlCM7jErLv4_8ZLcuOITtmJ5l1OtecbvZ16SI0gUdbYWd6Y/s1600/HIllbilly_Bday.jpg" title="The Hillbilly's little cake" width="425" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of course we had an Easter egg hunt for the grandchildren. Miss Sunshine didn't gather as many eggs as she could have because every time she found a plastic egg, she had to open it and eat the candy before searching for another egg.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dHZ_cfxQo1e388uy59PoNJC2bwoj2gBnbfcnWRz4wnckZOjd5MxudsossGkUDfuncahlIBGDYVJ2VBDXiCZCPRfhuhTPtEKRNPR40Bf27FOhWKVHSjbNqnEN6WGCxYBrmFs68xcgCpo/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dHZ_cfxQo1e388uy59PoNJC2bwoj2gBnbfcnWRz4wnckZOjd5MxudsossGkUDfuncahlIBGDYVJ2VBDXiCZCPRfhuhTPtEKRNPR40Bf27FOhWKVHSjbNqnEN6WGCxYBrmFs68xcgCpo/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Miss Sunshine with a slightly chocolate face</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_T4Jz4B5aXLpZiVU4_6CGolREI3rBICv6ojhZ9gl6HD_7sHZAAB-eyLviKKhYhdQ9XbFuUnt3IszHNUMtE7HxqrtGpIRP0qXJ3EG5lsCYfi0X8QxIh5fKicNLvm-jiWfVxDsLwP2bQE/s1600/IMG_0061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Easter-egg-hunt" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_T4Jz4B5aXLpZiVU4_6CGolREI3rBICv6ojhZ9gl6HD_7sHZAAB-eyLviKKhYhdQ9XbFuUnt3IszHNUMtE7HxqrtGpIRP0qXJ3EG5lsCYfi0X8QxIh5fKicNLvm-jiWfVxDsLwP2bQE/s1600/IMG_0061.JPG" title="" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The girls all looked lovely in their Easter best.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_LjkWVbhYmjwrx02WjrnIyKSVkHZJ7dXeV3xusp3jxFL8OlUg605LUbfWnj_z2HcGMs5bw32gU_L-rLRXKe3p4793sROr1QdQzm99LK8HZz8Q2eiBsPey1E1BcCgNl1mSoDpl-iRQ0I/s1600/IMG_0089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Easter-egg-hunt" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_LjkWVbhYmjwrx02WjrnIyKSVkHZJ7dXeV3xusp3jxFL8OlUg605LUbfWnj_z2HcGMs5bw32gU_L-rLRXKe3p4793sROr1QdQzm99LK8HZz8Q2eiBsPey1E1BcCgNl1mSoDpl-iRQ0I/s1600/IMG_0089.JPG" title="" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Athlete, Miss Sunshine, and The Princess</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And The Monster posed for pictures too.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvraWffYsO-BTPdufVsOsCTGQDyo0YquLB-1mJdqcKyqGGqvuNg3vYEek1VhGU3NvOmK94svwijqBdNwX6a-0WDoR8pGRIrwt-AeS4SNR9QeMwhyphenhyphenCBgqHaKIyAguffj5iaE16qwApayu8/s1600/IMG_0063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvraWffYsO-BTPdufVsOsCTGQDyo0YquLB-1mJdqcKyqGGqvuNg3vYEek1VhGU3NvOmK94svwijqBdNwX6a-0WDoR8pGRIrwt-AeS4SNR9QeMwhyphenhyphenCBgqHaKIyAguffj5iaE16qwApayu8/s1600/IMG_0063.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHKMEuyPqRJ1C2YA_7VvNB6gGAtn5TBAQnpugOTcXdS-HHsaFrJJB9vbuvrxFx0c-CNcc5Spk_Mnz-rigzqqq1ean5ZXOwalCd_Yno7m-zcfHSoh3B4Rjxx1-q1UiPQ9kJTDMjLmsFOC0/s1600/IMG_0062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Making-faces" border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHKMEuyPqRJ1C2YA_7VvNB6gGAtn5TBAQnpugOTcXdS-HHsaFrJJB9vbuvrxFx0c-CNcc5Spk_Mnz-rigzqqq1ean5ZXOwalCd_Yno7m-zcfHSoh3B4Rjxx1-q1UiPQ9kJTDMjLmsFOC0/s1600/IMG_0062.JPG" title="" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This reminds me of my brother. There's not one picture of him from age 3 to 18 where he's not making a face.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Every year on Easter we take family pictures in my mother's beautiful garden.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7Ph3figRKn3BePkCf5dyhDnj2kVJ98_xt-jDwareMmTx_hBWdUZmNSOsOlqAmH_mHnmcbOENIS1lNz1TOndWJTq4mvrqzPVuWUFDDFaKo6aBOb6GCT9h0Hkglqgqi63IVeWClb0Mhyphenhyphens/s1600/IMG_0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="grandparents-with-grandchildren" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7Ph3figRKn3BePkCf5dyhDnj2kVJ98_xt-jDwareMmTx_hBWdUZmNSOsOlqAmH_mHnmcbOENIS1lNz1TOndWJTq4mvrqzPVuWUFDDFaKo6aBOb6GCT9h0Hkglqgqi63IVeWClb0Mhyphenhyphens/s1600/IMG_0096.JPG" title="" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Hillbilly and I with our little gang</span></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><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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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjj_np_DwWdqxJsWVusPH9zwYTI0tq-AFKf77-5qRktdNoAdZAjbvv7Ut36xugEYS2QSnGyi-6qSJQThz8Fkeyp5ACNqN6e0-8-2k7lKx06mp1RidbHeJjDaqw6RDK9uhob2-XMRBRA0/s1600/IMG_0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjj_np_DwWdqxJsWVusPH9zwYTI0tq-AFKf77-5qRktdNoAdZAjbvv7Ut36xugEYS2QSnGyi-6qSJQThz8Fkeyp5ACNqN6e0-8-2k7lKx06mp1RidbHeJjDaqw6RDK9uhob2-XMRBRA0/s1600/IMG_0038.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My mama and her girls</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We were missing two of our grandchildren, The New One and The Model</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihz9wBUURyx_8FOpkXRjV4m7sBEj7B4CptOnbsP6kWQnaSQPh5I8FKpW5dleLAmqY3Z1WrGncpvemMjMqEBJ1-5tFk3UpS4hXSVCnYDak7aB11Cl__JVm6sEdhx11RTpIxnTCoYP1_jUs/s1600/10151406_10152413863573674_9060683605836682004_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Easter-funny-face-painting" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihz9wBUURyx_8FOpkXRjV4m7sBEj7B4CptOnbsP6kWQnaSQPh5I8FKpW5dleLAmqY3Z1WrGncpvemMjMqEBJ1-5tFk3UpS4hXSVCnYDak7aB11Cl__JVm6sEdhx11RTpIxnTCoYP1_jUs/s1600/10151406_10152413863573674_9060683605836682004_n.jpg" title="" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We wish they could have been with us!</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Once all of the formalities were over, the children were left to their own devices. They chose to hunt snails in the garden. They found plenty. Then The Athlete decided to invite one out to play. As in she tried to pull it out of its shell. Forcefully.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'll just leave you with that little image to occupy your mind until my next blog post.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>How was your Easter? What funny things did the children do? Leave a comment!</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-42911170256179282522014-03-12T23:02:00.001-05:002019-11-23T11:00:03.674-06:00I Think I'll Be an Expert<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I look around the Internet, I see a lot of sites about a lot of topics, all written by experts in their fields. Now, I don't know how these experts got to be experts, or who declared them experts, but I'm sure they are because they sound so experty. They speak with authority and confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've decided that I can be an expert too. In fact, I'm not satisfied with being an expert in only one area. I can be an expert in multiple fields; I just need to write with that tone of expertiness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let me share some of my expert advice:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Parenting</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Don't kill them if you want to have grandchildren someday. I assure you, as an expert grandparent myself, that grandchildren are worth all the trouble of keeping your kids alive. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCGcs8HjSk3fxS2IUZegd9pQ_KUqwBxNvPFrS_vVmJRM1UjIBSPKn8L7u0e-Ba1oh1YW65qnDHB9LhtCJ-icocCD4njLkUx9ZEZqTK00SikDg-OkTE1Reb5OFUviu0U4HwF75qQVPtUw/s1600/photo_2+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCGcs8HjSk3fxS2IUZegd9pQ_KUqwBxNvPFrS_vVmJRM1UjIBSPKn8L7u0e-Ba1oh1YW65qnDHB9LhtCJ-icocCD4njLkUx9ZEZqTK00SikDg-OkTE1Reb5OFUviu0U4HwF75qQVPtUw/s1600/photo_2+(5).JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking the floor with a fussy slobbery granddaughter, and loving it!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Blog Design</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You're going to want to include lots of things on your website, and that's good. You should include things like a header, some social networking icons, a link for readers to subscribe, links to popular posts, a way for readers to contact you, a link to your other pages, and hopefully some advertising. Just don't forget to leave some room for your actual blog posts. That's pretty important for a blog.</span><br />
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<h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Job Seeking</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Job is right between Esther and Psalms.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Cooking</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Okay, I'm going to tell you how to make my mom's Enchilada Casserole. Sorry there's no picture, but I haven't had a need to cook this much food in a while. You all know this is not a cooking blog, but I am an expert cook. So let's get started. Here's how you get ready:</span><br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Chop up an onion and a bell pepper</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Grate some cheddar cheese, oh about a pound. More or less.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Brown a pound of ground beef and season it with some chili powder, salt, pepper, and garlic powder (or use fresh garlic). Drain.</span></li>
</ol>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now add a half a bottle of taco sauce and 2-3 small cans of tomato sauce to the ground beef. Stir in the chopped bell pepper. Heat that all up until it's warm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now go find your 9x13" casserole dish. Also find some corn tortillas. They probably shouldn't be in the same place, but I don't know you very well, so whatever. I won't judge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the dish make layers like this:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tortillas </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sauce</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Onion</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Cheese</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Keep making layers until you're out of ingredients. I don't mean all the ingredients in your kitchen; that would just be silly. The ingredients in this recipe will do just fine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now you take your dish full of ingredients, cover it with foil, and put it into a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, take it out and serve it with some stuff like a salad, some corn, and a nice loaf of sourdough bread.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let the kids do the dishes. It won't kill them. Now how's that for a full circle of expertiness?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-76930386705513564532014-03-06T05:00:00.000-06:002019-11-23T11:03:58.723-06:00No Bake Peanut Butter Surprise Cookies<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I can't believe I missed it! March 1 was National Peanut Butter Day, and I didn't know it until now! I hate missing such an important date. It's like missing my own birthday (which is coming up on March 19 if you wanted to send small monetary gifts). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitw0AYKffHPQdilx-fEQf02pdMmghPAH7ZnAAyoXflJWJOjQ3DK96MeOrU6PEwwI2lRQYGsfV3kcfGEuNv67LyGmb5yKwQ5U7FSkcQ4TaaSf5w1kDMXvAmANlR3Y1sDzIRg3bmkayNQVY/s1600/Jif-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="By Alex Buell (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitw0AYKffHPQdilx-fEQf02pdMmghPAH7ZnAAyoXflJWJOjQ3DK96MeOrU6PEwwI2lRQYGsfV3kcfGEuNv67LyGmb5yKwQ5U7FSkcQ4TaaSf5w1kDMXvAmANlR3Y1sDzIRg3bmkayNQVY/s1600/Jif-01.jpg" title="By Alex Buell (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons" width="107" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">According to Wikipedia, the history of peanut butter goes back to the Aztecs. Chalk another one up to the Aztecs who also brought us chocolate. Just think, if not for the Aztecs, we wouldn't have Reese's Peanut Butter Cups! I think we need a National Thank an Aztec Day!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRjtHOh_i01aYWHpP34zF55fjsHz9Bkpg4FTTz92bXBH3z2DykJiM4r7-G1rQ1OCN4wVBMB9bLWPpqv15CqxaVZguZKlPuWHRiyF8Y0bUDaMD0g9hPTTlFha3EIk9cXgktNiIqg-seHY/s1600/Peanut_Butter_Cups_by_Matthew_Bisanz_(cropped).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRjtHOh_i01aYWHpP34zF55fjsHz9Bkpg4FTTz92bXBH3z2DykJiM4r7-G1rQ1OCN4wVBMB9bLWPpqv15CqxaVZguZKlPuWHRiyF8Y0bUDaMD0g9hPTTlFha3EIk9cXgktNiIqg-seHY/s1600/Peanut_Butter_Cups_by_Matthew_Bisanz_(cropped).JPG" width="185" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway, in light having missed National Peanut Butter Day, I want to share my favorite peanut butter recipe. I don't know where it came from or where my mom got it, but it's been in the family since my early teens. It's so easy that I was able to make it way back then. It's so yummy that nobody can eat just one. You may have made them yourself, in which case you know I'm telling the truth!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm talking about the peanut buttery goodness of No Bake Surprise Cookies! You heard me! NO BAKE! You don't need a cookie sheet; you just need a sauce pan. So with no further ado, let me share that recipe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bear in mind, this is not a cooking blog, as I have mentioned before. So you'll have to bear with me because I have to do this my own way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let's start by getting out that sauce pan. While you're at it, get out:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3 cups of oatmeal (<i>I guess the one-minute kind is what we've always used</i>.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3/4 cup of peanut butter (<i>We prefer creamy, but I don't suppose chunky would hurt anything if you really insist</i>.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1 cube butter (<i>That's 1/2 cup just in case your cubes are different where you're from. Also, use real butter, not that runny margarine. Real Butter!</i>)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1/2 cup milk (<i>Whatever kind you have in the house is fine. We use 2%, but whatever.</i>)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2 cups sugar (<i>I said delicious, not low-cal</i>.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1 tsp vanilla <i>(I have no comment on vanilla. It's just so...vanilla!)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1/2 cup cocoa (<i>optional</i>) (<i>I've made it with and without, and it's really yummy either way. Go with your heart on this one</i>.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now here are your directions:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1. Bring butter, milk, and sugar to a rolling boil in your sauce pan. (Where else?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. Boil 1 minute and remove from heat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3. Stir in remaining ingredients (oatmeal, peanut butter, vanilla, and cocoa).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">4. Drop by spoonfuls onto waxed paper, and allow to cool. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcUtOUGWws4mXs2r4AhjPD60mzx83LtzL9gY0jwBhlmGoCJWcJThWVBcEtcY8S8SZ68-0_3wxB4ZzARW1d5KdLs5irz9BapHud6ZXI031xWZmSjsx2EYk7EG6jPfPCyOpV6zyHmhCDPyE/s1600/IMG_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcUtOUGWws4mXs2r4AhjPD60mzx83LtzL9gY0jwBhlmGoCJWcJThWVBcEtcY8S8SZ68-0_3wxB4ZzARW1d5KdLs5irz9BapHud6ZXI031xWZmSjsx2EYk7EG6jPfPCyOpV6zyHmhCDPyE/s1600/IMG_0025.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delicious peanut buttery yumminess with chocolatey goodness!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Dig in, but don't overindulge because...well, okay. Overindulge. Save some for the kids though. Because that's just the nice thing to do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Have you ever eaten these before? Aren't they the yummiest? What's your favorite peanut butter recipe?</b> </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh, and happy belated National Peanut Butter Day.</span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-63784371162650049482014-02-18T05:00:00.000-06:002019-11-20T23:08:38.987-06:00The Games We Play<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b> English Class Pop Quiz</b>: What's wrong with this sentence?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>When you've paid all that money for a weeks’ vacation, you don’t want to spend two or three days recovering from jet lag.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It seems that most couples have their own private games they play. I don't mean <i>those </i>games. I mean the games that somehow got invented during the relationship and are unique to this particular couple. The Hillbilly and I have our own favorite pastime called Guess What Word I'm Thinking Of. The Hillbilly gives me clues, and if I can guess, I win. We play it A LOT!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly</b>:<b> Do you have a bottle of that stuff?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me: I have lots of bottles. Which bottle?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>He rubs his fingers together on one hand.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me: Lotion? Hand Sanitizer?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: Hand sanitizer.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I WIN!</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now understand that the game is never announced. It just begins with no warning.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAmZTrwJfefrRC3TxnFfMdT4NRca31wq3SC7lNZoO8F6IkWxpUUrz3-3dLZnU5KncMSBjEaPxR8jlhTZlok9f0nd1Bf-e7Tpn5QyJivFhINeRuDRqx7xyucZEDnSrjLb2E24xyDsaOBo/s1600/question_mark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAmZTrwJfefrRC3TxnFfMdT4NRca31wq3SC7lNZoO8F6IkWxpUUrz3-3dLZnU5KncMSBjEaPxR8jlhTZlok9f0nd1Bf-e7Tpn5QyJivFhINeRuDRqx7xyucZEDnSrjLb2E24xyDsaOBo/s1600/question_mark.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: You know that singer from Oklahoma?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me: Blake Shelton?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: Yeah. He did a duet with the gal from Missouri.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me: Sara Evans?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: Yeah.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I WIN! </b>Now the only reason I know those two is because that's how The Hillbilly always describes them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly</b>:<b> He reminds me of the guy from that one show. The show with the cops and the lawyers.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me: Umm...</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: It has SVU.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me: Umm...Oh! Law and Order!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: Yeah, that's it.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I WIN! </b><i> </i><b> </b><i> </i><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And this:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: You know those little animals? They're like possums on the half shell.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <i>Me: ???</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: They get run over all the time.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me: ???</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Hillbilly: ....Armadillos! That's it.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Me</i>: ...<i>POSSUMS ON THE HALF SHELL??</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sorry. There was no way I was winning that one.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5R9NPbgjnPdmakXu8kxAU4TxDQNh2ClEUw5Ahkq-fNWz1q6tVRJFuorg-mmvlZ55jbPyJGOTH4VXLI8VmquVt5AS37lzl8Ha1BQI0L1xaDWzHO7drU-RYtgMk1ubDxg0IHaJg7o07WM/s1600/1024px-Nine-banded_Armadillo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5R9NPbgjnPdmakXu8kxAU4TxDQNh2ClEUw5Ahkq-fNWz1q6tVRJFuorg-mmvlZ55jbPyJGOTH4VXLI8VmquVt5AS37lzl8Ha1BQI0L1xaDWzHO7drU-RYtgMk1ubDxg0IHaJg7o07WM/s1600/1024px-Nine-banded_Armadillo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>So do you and your family play this one? What's the craziest description you ever got? I'll bet you can't beat possums on the half shell.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Pop Quiz Answer</b>: <i>Weeks</i>' should be <i>week's</i>. We're only talking about one week and the vacation that belongs to it. If the apostrophe comes after the s, it indicates that the noun is plural. We discussed this in a <a href="http://www.commonplacecrazy.com/2012/06/superfluous-apostrophe.html" target="_blank">previous post</a>. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-47266922502877624782014-02-17T05:00:00.000-06:002019-11-20T23:09:37.069-06:00Memorize This!<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Stasha over at <a href="http://www.northwestmommy.com/" target="_blank">Northwest Mommy</a> runs a nice little weekly link-up called The Monday Listicles (<i>It's a list. It's an article. It's a listicle!</i>). This week's list is 10 things I've memorized.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've memorized lots of things, some interesting, some not. Some of them were memorized when I was young, some more recently. Some of the early ones I still remember, but others I've forgotten. Let's take a look, shall we? Well, of course we shall, or else I don't have anything to blog about this week. Here we go:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1. Countless phone numbers. Interestingly, with speed dial on our cell phones, it's been years since I've actually memorized a phone number. Like most people, I'd be lost if my cell phone died. I don't even know my daughter's phone number! <b>What was the most recent phone number you actually memorized?</b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjla72lB12DKIZ1fvs-b0oFA-7l4hIA2Bqcx10A5wcz_TcP-fFF_se7NamqaHWawMJvpg7-jyLmfVQn9wEna6wNbF7IG0GJ7uvMxB5lq1ejYlcQx_YZzhhD8TcePEnxL6QAINo8PwDsEyg/s1600/Remember.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjla72lB12DKIZ1fvs-b0oFA-7l4hIA2Bqcx10A5wcz_TcP-fFF_se7NamqaHWawMJvpg7-jyLmfVQn9wEna6wNbF7IG0GJ7uvMxB5lq1ejYlcQx_YZzhhD8TcePEnxL6QAINo8PwDsEyg/s1600/Remember.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. The address of the house I lived in until I was twelve: 313 N. Cooper Dr., Santa Ana, CA. 92703. Yes, I even remember the zip of the house we left 42 years ago!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3. Those countless little things we all memorize: addresses, birthdays, anniversaries, my ex-husband's girlfriends' names. You know. The routine stuff. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">4. When I was very little, I went to Vacation Bible School one summer. We memorized, "Behold I stand at the door and knock<span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." Revelation 3:20</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">5. We also memorized "Even the winds and the sea obey him." I didn't remember where that was located, so I looked it up. Mark 4:41</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">6.My high school locker combination: 10-34-4</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">7. This
list of helping verbs: is am are was were be being been should would
could may might must do does did have has had can will shall</span></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXsAlppSbPhAtlW2SCLNDS7L4xrn9X0z1jlmfUtDUZuhVfVXnDH_LQYN9FRAXnGJEVyrCKYU_8l59vJakF3FdsnOz7LfHuFfWG2ytzr-NZHznNFFQISjUqIMnqoq7iWgmccHyUuPVJU_w/s1600/Edgar_Allen_Poe_1898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXsAlppSbPhAtlW2SCLNDS7L4xrn9X0z1jlmfUtDUZuhVfVXnDH_LQYN9FRAXnGJEVyrCKYU_8l59vJakF3FdsnOz7LfHuFfWG2ytzr-NZHznNFFQISjUqIMnqoq7iWgmccHyUuPVJU_w/s1600/Edgar_Allen_Poe_1898.jpg" width="156" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AEdgar_Allen_Poe_1898.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> </span><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">8. In the sixth grade we had to memorize two poems. One was </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">"El Dorado" by Edgar Allan Poe. I still remember the first stanza:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><i> Gaily bedight</i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> A gallant knight</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> In sunshine and in shadow</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> Had journeyed long</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> Singing a song</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> In search of El Dorado</span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">You can find the rest of the poem at <a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eldorado/" target="_blank">this link</a>. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">9. The second poem was "Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll. I still remember most of it. Let's give it a try and see how I do</span><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">. I'll write it from memory and then make corrections in red.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNA7bkfDg8Tz469YkarlRIwHhIXwkzO7mDLcWzfeF8fnWy_ebijhvisVBm8bO23eTe2aWFm-63L86vPM4HemYlj_8-qmzuhMYV4yuV0PEF-6khXJgNqhQYOtfhJRRnDvgH3-nKwqzVJmA/s1600/1024px-Jabberwocky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNA7bkfDg8Tz469YkarlRIwHhIXwkzO7mDLcWzfeF8fnWy_ebijhvisVBm8bO23eTe2aWFm-63L86vPM4HemYlj_8-qmzuhMYV4yuV0PEF-6khXJgNqhQYOtfhJRRnDvgH3-nKwqzVJmA/s1600/1024px-Jabberwocky.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drawing by Lewis Carroll</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><br /></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">'Twas brillig and the slithy toves</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">All mimsy were the borogroves </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">And the momeraths, outgrabe. </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><br /></span></i></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">"Beware the <span style="color: red;">J</span>abberwock, my son.</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">The jaws that bite! </span><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">The claws that snatch! </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">Beware the jub jub bird and shun </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">The fumeous <span style="color: red;">B</span>andersnatch." </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">He took his vorple sword in hand </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">Long time the manxome foe he sought</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><strike>Then</strike> <span style="color: red;">So </span>rested he by the tum tum tree </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">And stood a while in thought.</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">And as in uffish thought he stood</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">The jabberwock with eyes of flame</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">Came whiffling through the tulgy wood</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">And <strike>gurgled </strike> <span style="color: red;">burbled </span>as <strike>he </strike><span style="color: red;">it </span>came.</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">One two! One two! and through and through</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">His vorple sword went snicker-snack.</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">He left <strike>him </strike><span style="color: red;">it </span>dead, and with <strike>his </strike><span style="color: red;">its </span>head</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">He went galumphing back.</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">"And hast thou slain the jabberwock?</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">Come to my arms, my beamish boy!</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">Oh frabjous day! Caloo, calay!"</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">He chortled in his joy. </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><br /></span></i></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">'Twas brillig and the slithy toves</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767">All mimsy were the borogroves</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"><i>And the momewraths, outgrabe.</i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text Rev-3-20" id="en-KJV-30767"> </span></span> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Except for misspelling a lot of the nonsense words, I did pretty well. You can check it out <a href="http://www.jabberwocky.com/carroll/jabber/jabberwocky.html" target="_blank">here</a>. <b>What did you have to memorize for school?</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">10. Sometime in college I tried to memorize <a href="http://www.poetry-archive.com/s/shakespeare_sonnet_018.html" target="_blank">Shakespeare's 18th sonnet.</a> I didn't do so well. All I ever remembered (and still remember) is this:</span></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thou art more lovely and more temperate.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And summer's lease hath all too short a date.</span></span></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Stan Shebs [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or CC-BY-SA-2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons" border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9e/Rosa_Perfect_Moment_1.jpg" height="198" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Stan Shebs [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or CC-BY-SA-2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons" width="200" /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's really a beautiful sonnet. Be sure to read the whole thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>So that's it for me. What interesting things have you memorized?</b></span></div>
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Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-9618685360592313042014-02-12T05:30:00.000-06:002019-11-20T23:09:58.898-06:00Which Came First: The Inference or the Implication?<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">English Class Pop Quiz: Fill in the blank with a form of the word IMPLY or INFER.</span></b><br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She had not meant for her statement to ______ that he was lying.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A lot can be ______ from these statistics.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The high level of radiation in the rocks ______ that they are volcanic in origin.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> From the evidence we can ______ that the victim knew her killer.</span></li>
</ol>
<b><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Answers at the bottom of the post.</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Okay, this is the part of the post where the Wicked English Teacher usually lambasts you for not having paid attention in school where you should have learned today's lesson. You can relax though because the Wicked English Teacher understands. No one gets the difference between <i>imply </i>and <i>infer</i>. Certainly not those of you who were busy making plans for decorating the windows in the downtown shops for homecoming when you were supposed to be diagramming sentences. Well, one diagram is as good as another, right? WRONG!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know, I know. The Wicked English Teacher promised to go easy on you this time, so let's just get started. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The words <i>imply </i>and <i>infer </i>are frequently misused in one another's place. Reasonably intelligent people in all lines of work make the same mistake. I actually had to grit my teeth through last Sunday's sermon because of it. No, Preacher. I'm sorry, but the text does not infer that. The text is not capable of inferring. Nothing you have ever read ever inferred anything at all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let's look at the definitions of the two words:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><b>Imply: </b></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276"> to suggest that something is true, without saying this directly</span></span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Infer</b>:</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"> <i>to form an opinion that something is probably true because of information that you have</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><br /></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276"></span></span></span></i>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276">So </span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276"> </span></span></span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276">first you have the speaker or writer who makes you think something without coming out and saying it. That person <b>implies </b>something. Then you have the listener or reader who uses the information to figure out what is being hinted at. When you figure out what is being suggested, you <b>infer</b>.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276">The <i>giver </i>(speaker or writer) <b>implies</b>.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276">The <i>receiver </i>(listener or reader) <b>infers</b>.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276">Sometimes, the "giver" is just a set of facts, such as the evidence at a crime scene. The receiver would be whoever observes the facts. Still:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276">The <i>giver </i>(set of facts) <b>implies</b>.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276">The <i>receiver </i>(observer) <b>infers</b>.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001450555"><span class="DEF" id="p008-001406276">So let's look at that pop quiz together:</span></span></span><br />
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<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She had not meant for her statement to <u><b>imply </b></u>that he was lying.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A lot can be <u><b>inferred </b></u>from these statistics.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The high level of radiation in the rocks <b><u>implied </u></b>that they are volcanic in origin.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> From the evidence we can <b><u>infer </u></b>that the victim knew her killer.</span></li>
</ol>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <b>I hope that little lesson helps. Now go forth and <strike>sin </strike>misuse these words no more!</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-54073009047873279452014-02-03T19:10:00.001-06:002019-11-20T23:11:04.706-06:007 Ways to Distract Yourself from Stress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizk2kdW435YmPhq50xAA60fm5hWfZr6q1NOdgun7ij6KsQ07A6R7h-DGoIGCTwVA1NdfOf8NWg3tBbcFLMZGem7BZIf9xaI3IL57XW_XKi6amQlqM1vi-54NqE9_e2j5WoD-3Jdt_A_TM/s1600/Distract_From_Stress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="7 Ways to Distract Yourself from Stress" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizk2kdW435YmPhq50xAA60fm5hWfZr6q1NOdgun7ij6KsQ07A6R7h-DGoIGCTwVA1NdfOf8NWg3tBbcFLMZGem7BZIf9xaI3IL57XW_XKi6amQlqM1vi-54NqE9_e2j5WoD-3Jdt_A_TM/s1600/Distract_From_Stress.jpg" title="7 Ways to Distract Yourself from Stress" width="214" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We all face stressful situations; it's a regular part of life. How we deal with stress differs from person to person. I always admired those people who actually seemed to become stronger when faced with stress. Of course, the vast majority muddle through trying circumstances in one way or another. And then there are those of us who suffer from depression and anxiety.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It seems that for us, every stressful situation is life-changing. A stressful situation feels like a tidal wave of emotion that we're helpless to deal with. We often seek to hide or run away . . . not from the situation, but from the feelings the situation causes. It just looks like we're running from the situation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You'll know I'm hiding from my feelings when you see me with a video game in front of me. I first learned to numb myself with video games clear back in the days of Atari. I once stared at the screen while playing a game of Atari Pitfall for so long without blinking that my contact lens dried up<i> in my eye</i> and popped out. Yes, folks, video games are my drug of choice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I'm becoming healthier and learning to deal with my emotions, I've learned that there's a difference between <i>avoiding </i>stress and <i>distracting </i>myself from stress. According to the authors of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1572245131/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1572245131&linkCode=as2&tag=mrscynthiabonnet">The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook</a>, avoiding stress is deciding not to deal with it, while distracting from stress is giving yourself time to calm down until you are able to deal with it. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="Depression and Anxiety Workbook" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8-VQTtWAUO0q1sYNDJ3XI3T-qsRGA1c4TM8qzm4tkjWup7F6bYKFi2q9XGcXCcyOCHaBiblDtRULW05ErsUhr4_hN1ORc3nQZF749DiyUCQTmUFmoL11bdMVGDroMkFpfO6Q5nPHyXg/s1600/book.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1572245131/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1572245131&linkCode=as2&tag=mrscynthiabonnet" target="_blank">Available at Amazon (Affiliate Link)</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Whether you experience depression and/or anxiety or not, sometimes you need to settle your mind before you deal with a distressing situation. Here are 7 techniques to help you distract yourself from a tense situation and the accompanying uncomfortable emotions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>1. Engaging Activities</b></span></span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Find something you enjoy doing, something you can get lost in for a while. This can be anything from hobbies to housecleaning. Of course, if you're like me housecleaning doesn't fall into the enjoyable category, but it does for some people. I was raised by one of them, in fact. Apparently it's not hereditary. For me, it's more likely to be writing a blog post or reading a book, but for you it might be exercising or working in the garden. It could even be playing video games unless you're an addict like me. Then save those games for a less stressful time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. Think About Others</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Take your mind off of your own pain by focusing on others. Do volunteer work. Make someone a gift. Call a friend to see how she's doing. Bake cookies for the children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3. Look for Someone Who Has It Worse</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Compare your life to that of someone else who is worse off than you are. This makes it easier to count your own blessings. This is not do be done in a self-judgmental way<i>: I shouldn't be whining when my problems are so small compared to his</i>. Rather, it is to be done in a positive way: <i>I can get through this when I see how much smaller my problems are</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">4. Act the Opposite of the Way You Feel</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Also known as fake it 'til you make it. Our actions help make our emotions, so change your actions to those which match the emotions you want to feel. Listen to calming music. Watch a funny movie. My favorite? Puppy and kitten videos via YouTube!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/V4LnorVVxfw" width="560"></iframe>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">5. Push It Away</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Just refuse to think about it. Put the situation in a mental box and refuse to take it out. Or physically remove yourself from the situation until you've given yourself a chance to control your emotions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">6. Fill Your Mind With Other Thoughts</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Work a puzzle (I like Sudoku), watch T.V., read a book. Examine the natural world around you, count the colors in a tree, imagine images in the clouds. Daydream. Remember happy occasions in as much detail as you can summon. Spend time in prayer remembering to be thankful for your blessings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTj5p0xpZx2aeCqcnnGFV9MUxlcJu7dJetTG5sSuabb9MwDOHIWSQvlXDWk1A3PsmD8WVAiMISZUOPExPRuOhCfbaKmJBWpOBMpmb-d8qK6p-dCsuXmZ63LcxmjtdswuRwhERjGZvk6Y/s1600/sudokue73.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTj5p0xpZx2aeCqcnnGFV9MUxlcJu7dJetTG5sSuabb9MwDOHIWSQvlXDWk1A3PsmD8WVAiMISZUOPExPRuOhCfbaKmJBWpOBMpmb-d8qK6p-dCsuXmZ63LcxmjtdswuRwhERjGZvk6Y/s1600/sudokue73.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> 7. Distract Yourself from Mental Pain with Physical Sensations</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Squeeze a rubber "worry ball." Get a handful of ice and see how long you can hold it. Engage in a little hugging, squeezing, and caressing with someone you love. Well, it really isn't a good idea to engage in those particular activities with strangers. I'd say definitely stick with a loved one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>How do you distract from stress? Leave other ideas in the comments!</b> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-80106338619555034712014-01-20T15:16:00.002-06:002019-11-20T23:12:08.423-06:00Something's New Around Here<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Since I took my little hiatus, there have been a lot of new things going on here at Commonplace Crazy. Without a doubt, one thing stands out above the rest.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We have a new granddaughter!</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomjSEWB2r5yoMog-rt7OYlCl8_t42LmXwKufDX6astaQuz8X9D5SlQBwuHv5VbNjAKiZbP0coiVCpVlbVv5M-dmaT9FvPFOBOqHk9ufBL4PGU3jlbY2Xil4BVBjMfKvt3_KFyNarPHgQ/s1600/Veda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomjSEWB2r5yoMog-rt7OYlCl8_t42LmXwKufDX6astaQuz8X9D5SlQBwuHv5VbNjAKiZbP0coiVCpVlbVv5M-dmaT9FvPFOBOqHk9ufBL4PGU3jlbY2Xil4BVBjMfKvt3_KFyNarPHgQ/s1600/Veda.jpg" width="475" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We'll temporarily call her #6</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">#6 was born in September. She's the baby sister of The Model.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of course you all remember the first five grandchildren (Look out! I've found an excuse for grandchild pictures!) In addition to the model, we have:</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCF9KeT6HvqhZXzARFVvNiFbEmZM7f3Ak0j18oJSPIOgHWJEazLQ_khJbz6RZFUW9Blwpqjt46RyQOsSw-a2FEc0_Bk4A5IBTCKG7tgwGYt8txxsGAVh2BrLEKXhHguxyNLjYYbCXN4wk/s1600/2013-12-24+09.40.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCF9KeT6HvqhZXzARFVvNiFbEmZM7f3Ak0j18oJSPIOgHWJEazLQ_khJbz6RZFUW9Blwpqjt46RyQOsSw-a2FEc0_Bk4A5IBTCKG7tgwGYt8txxsGAVh2BrLEKXhHguxyNLjYYbCXN4wk/s1600/2013-12-24+09.40.27.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">#6's big sister, The Model. </span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLrOAAtoSRDBtNQjpT0XfYatYoKQrh_jH2yGNo12uk-QE9SgtEVJ0U4nEcva0IYVLm56iLLNj4YYhOKE7m2hgdYu-22O5L8Z4aoBs4aJNjlPeKu6-6PcUOzyBO8rpdkcAvv30n9PRhD1c/s1600/2013-07-05+11.18.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLrOAAtoSRDBtNQjpT0XfYatYoKQrh_jH2yGNo12uk-QE9SgtEVJ0U4nEcva0IYVLm56iLLNj4YYhOKE7m2hgdYu-22O5L8Z4aoBs4aJNjlPeKu6-6PcUOzyBO8rpdkcAvv30n9PRhD1c/s1600/2013-07-05+11.18.05.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Princess. Can you believe she's going to be 8 in March?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWbbhus4Ve2cz7JcQdh7lv8g3Kuk1aT_sgSUaQ9IFd9qb-EfTZqQM-i7_Hy1BcglGK1rbzuN6xyGsLG1wJdm1ZkbKdfqvVW0BeNgaLZ6e6vzAxSqO0iGDlNhafhUt6N7A8my_Qv7aQ-0/s1600/2014-01-17+19.13.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWbbhus4Ve2cz7JcQdh7lv8g3Kuk1aT_sgSUaQ9IFd9qb-EfTZqQM-i7_Hy1BcglGK1rbzuN6xyGsLG1wJdm1ZkbKdfqvVW0BeNgaLZ6e6vzAxSqO0iGDlNhafhUt6N7A8my_Qv7aQ-0/s1600/2014-01-17+19.13.43.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Princess's baby brother, The Monster (You just have to take my word for it.)</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjNVMHKUGshx-1xE4J-IokqKoSB54g4mF_S9AaCpDORil0QxVq6WK83OFjBHwFtZXLjqGuXO5pqWyuIhR6IBkvLl1v_11yPHEvf-1wQx7-8zikXesHgB3wmWvgxaq5xZ7Kgi0RZTuXCc/s1600/2013-12-28+19.48.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjNVMHKUGshx-1xE4J-IokqKoSB54g4mF_S9AaCpDORil0QxVq6WK83OFjBHwFtZXLjqGuXO5pqWyuIhR6IBkvLl1v_11yPHEvf-1wQx7-8zikXesHgB3wmWvgxaq5xZ7Kgi0RZTuXCc/s1600/2013-12-28+19.48.42.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Miss Sunshine and big sister The Athlete</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So hang around and find out what the girls and The Monster have been up to lately, and how The Monster has been handling being outnumbered five to one.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Anything new with you since we last chatted?</b></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-79174008853897087522014-01-18T14:55:00.000-06:002019-11-20T23:12:26.322-06:00The Curse of Expectations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyneW3gtvk0pYeVgAFnZ_5iOeErh8QDRcrnMHTGDOFQXPEyX7jrh1MRetccakBz-Lgh8InLuw5wKH6xDQwjh-OwhJpvMCbgZf5GoMyntkiGwwfV7H6_EtrDftJowEOyzFJFxsLkR10vo/s1600/CaughtAWorm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Children fishing" border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyneW3gtvk0pYeVgAFnZ_5iOeErh8QDRcrnMHTGDOFQXPEyX7jrh1MRetccakBz-Lgh8InLuw5wKH6xDQwjh-OwhJpvMCbgZf5GoMyntkiGwwfV7H6_EtrDftJowEOyzFJFxsLkR10vo/s1600/CaughtAWorm.jpg" title="I Caught a Worm! -- The Curse of Expectations" width="400" /></a></div>
Two little boys, ages 2 and 5, were being taken on their first fishing trip. The five-year-old had great expectations. He told everyone who would listen that he was going to catch a big fish. Excitement oozed from every pore.<br />
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The two-year-old, of course, had little idea of what was going on. He only knew that the family was going somewhere and that his big brother was excited, so they must be going to have fun.<br />
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The family began fishing, and the boys threw out their lines. The older boy slowly reeled his line in and was disappointed to find no fish, but cast out his bait again. Maybe this time.<br />
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As the toddler reeled in his line his eyes widened, and with excitement he shouted, "I caught a worm!"<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlofOXIRxBogl0Ly7J6EgRQZiiZAr5MfQGInFGrR6sX_XA4Ctti2b0hYh6Ja_dvTUBNzkqbmBxEzsZLs_LURCIRRGPN4p5mUNsLAwRs-2Xb6_UCVzuIezunWnINFnWzkNv0q6GxMqPtc/s1600/Dad_and_daughter_fishing_young_girl_learns_to_fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Girl fishing with Dad" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlofOXIRxBogl0Ly7J6EgRQZiiZAr5MfQGInFGrR6sX_XA4Ctti2b0hYh6Ja_dvTUBNzkqbmBxEzsZLs_LURCIRRGPN4p5mUNsLAwRs-2Xb6_UCVzuIezunWnINFnWzkNv0q6GxMqPtc/s1600/Dad_and_daughter_fishing_young_girl_learns_to_fish.jpg" title="Young girl catching fish" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ADad_and_daughter_fishing_young_girl_learns_to_fish.jpg" target="_blank">By Hillebrand Steve, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons</a></td></tr>
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The day wore on and the five-year-old's enthusiasm diminished. His fishing trip was a failure in his eyes.<br />
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The younger brother continued to catch worms all day. What a wonderful fishing trip he was having!<br />
He never even noticed that it was actually the same worm, time after time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0oI2cnOZhZ9rCK1q72n6ayLDVXFs8Qnj7Mv8iYZP8ufvFGGzDEkXTskkIsGQEI2m6YAkr3vvXSzFRiL0uHDCShV89pttBXqY2qcQpRFSkA-DaYLmLSEwMPm-7ZnKBvcdWONlxSUUILA/s1600/Close_up_of_young_boy_enjoys_a_day_of_fishing_boy_holding_a_minnow_fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Young boy with minnow" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0oI2cnOZhZ9rCK1q72n6ayLDVXFs8Qnj7Mv8iYZP8ufvFGGzDEkXTskkIsGQEI2m6YAkr3vvXSzFRiL0uHDCShV89pttBXqY2qcQpRFSkA-DaYLmLSEwMPm-7ZnKBvcdWONlxSUUILA/s1600/Close_up_of_young_boy_enjoys_a_day_of_fishing_boy_holding_a_minnow_fish.jpg" title="Young boy with minnow" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AClose_up_of_young_boy_enjoys_a_day_of_fishing_boy_holding_a_minnow_fish.jpg" target="_blank">By Hillebrand Steve, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons</a></td></tr>
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The two boys went home weary at the end of the day. They had each experienced the exact same thing, but each went home with completely different feelings about the day.<br />
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How often do we let our expectations ruin a perfectly good day? Instead, we would feel so much better if we let go of our expectations and simply experienced whatever good we could find in the moment.<br />
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Wouldn't we all be happier if we just enjoyed catching a few worms?<br />
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-49661044402462538302014-01-02T23:27:00.003-06:002019-11-20T23:12:49.197-06:00The Hillbilly Hangs with the Beasts<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>It's been a while since you've heard from him, but My Hillbilly is still here being just as wonderful as ever. Today he wants to talk to you about...this: </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In my business of driving and picking up various types of samples from veterinary clinics, I have seen all types of animals, people, and events. Some are sad, as some people lose their pets, and others are quite funny and adorable. I have chosen to write about the funny or adorable ones.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I arrived at one clinic that had a glass front. As I stepped out of the car, I noticed that there was a golden cocker spaniel inside that had decided I was coming to see him -- while I was still 30 feet away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He was so excited! He was one of those dogs that didn’t just wag his tail, he wagged all over! <i> Look! He is coming! I love him! Who is coming? I don’t know but I love him and he will love me!</i> I step inside the veterinary and the owner says to his dog ---- <i>Kill!</i> His dog continues to wag all over, and I told the owner, "I guess that he might kill a dog biscuit!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I continue on to pick up the lab samples and then come back to the front. This time the dog jumps on me and wraps his legs around my leg to try to keep me from leaving. I said to the owner, “Friendly dog”. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The owner then says, “If you think this one is friendly, you should see his brother.” Yep, you guessed it, they would be great team of watch dogs! You can see them reacting to burglars. <i> Oh! Oh! I am so happy that you have come to see us! I love you! Do you need help carrying out that TV! Did I mention that there is another TV upstairs? Did I mention that I love you! Don’t go! Please come see me again! Plea---se!!!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At another veterinary to get the samples, I walk by the cages where animals are kept overnight. I stepped through the door and a dog, which I hadn’t yet seen, crashed into the cage door right by my head to try get me by the throat. That was only funny from the standpoint that this brave hillbilly almost messed his pants.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At another veterinary, where I walk by the cages, there was a Great Dane with its head down, legs sprawled, leaning against the cage gate, that appeared to be completely oblivious. I asked what was going on with it and was told it was liking its medicine ---- <i>really</i> liking its medicine! I suspect the dog left there and began looking for the local doggie drug dealer!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One night as I was picking up samples, the vet and assistants asked me to come look. They were having a good night. They showed me 12 newborn Pitbull puppies and were doing a c-section delivery on a cat. As it would for most of us, the wonder of life and cuteness of about anything newborn had them all in a great mood. It improved Hillbilly’s mood also!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For my last and probably funniest event at a vet, I was walking in front of another glass fronted veterinary. I was looking in, when I noticed a (probably 18-20 year old) girl who almost seemed to be dancing in front of the counter. It looked kinda like an odd (really odd but somehow appealing) mating ritual dance. The woman attendant was laughing. I walked in and asked what was going on. I was told that the girl had a pet rat which was in her sweater -- which she was wearing! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She was going through all kinds of motions and gyrations to try to get it out. The rat was smelling cats, dogs, and strange humans and was doing everything it could to not be taken out. I then, in a questioning voice, said something to the effect, <i>you have a rat in your sweater</i>? And she said, "Yes --- he is quite a handsome thing." Then she asked if I wanted to see him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My first thought was that rats are not handsome! They are beady eyed little rodents which we did not want to have around our houses, barns, and feed sheds back on our Missouri farm. But I told the girl, sure, let us see it! After a couple more minutes of watching her continued dancing about to try to remove the rat, and joining the attendant in laughter, I decided that this was going to take more time than I had and I left . </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I left, I thought to myself that if there had been young men there at the time, they probably would have overlooked the strange dance because she was cute, sweet and hilarious. And who knows? If they were beady eyed with eyes close together, and had odd whiskers, she might have gone out with them!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I hope everyone has a great new year!</span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From the Hillbilly’s corner!</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Have you seen anything cute, funny, or interesting during a trip to the vet? Share in the comments!</b></span></span><br />
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-29577513003350648342013-09-18T21:33:00.000-05:002019-11-20T23:13:09.706-06:00A Hillbilly Tour of Epicurean Delights<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>If there's one thing My Hillbilly knows about it's food. He's here today to share some food insights with you. Is it good? Two words: deep-fried bacon. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Being a hillbilly and a fine food connoisseur (somewhat), I decided to give information that all you non-connoisseurs might appreciate, such as some of what I consider my favorite foods, restaurants, etc. Now, I realize some may disagree with my choices, but remember, the reason you won’t agree is your non-connoisseurism!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Looking at different foods, best fried chicken ever was at McShane's, (no longer in business), in Conway, Missouri. This chicken was served on their Sunday buffet (was not what they served during the week) and was phenomenal. Just as good or better, was special cut bacon, breaded with the same stuff as their chicken and also deep fried.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My favorite hamburger from a restaurant, was at Wyota Inn in Lebanon, Mo. The restaurant is no longer the same. They had a hamburger called the Ox Burger. It had 12 ounces of hamburger and goodness. They had a smaller 8 ounces of burger with cheese called the Yellow jacket burger, (named after the LHS mascot.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> They also had some good greasy onion rings. A single order of onion rings was an entire, mounded platter. And on top of that, the restaurant was known far and wide for their pies. Let’s see, an oxburger, fries, onion rings, finished off with a big thick piece of coconut cream pie ---Mmmm good! Oh quit complaining, heart. Man up and take one for the team!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Best restaurant for pies was a place called Trotters. They had a couple of locations in Springfield, MO. They are no longer in business. They were a great barbecue place. I particularly liked their ham and beef barbecue sandwich and their buffet which had great cinnamon rolls. But the star of the show as far as I was concerned was their German chocolate pie. It was nigh on to perfect. I have been looking for recipes to try to duplicate it. Wish me luck in accomplishing that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Best pecan pie ---- my wife's! Sorry! She doesn’t </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">just </span> make them for everyone! They are mine ---- all mine! Ya –Ha-Ha! Speaking of pecan pie, when I was in school in Springfield, MO, there was a place called the Coffee Shop in the basement of The YMCA, that made mock pecan pie. It was wonderful! When I was young and could eat gobs, I would buy two pieces! They claimed that no one could get the recipe from the manager. When I got ready to leave Springfield, I bribed him to get it. I got it, but it was never quite the same???? I don’t know why unless he stiffed me! It was still pretty good!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For steak, we go to Texas Roadhouse in this area. However, my favorite is J. Bruners at Osage Beach, by Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. They also specialize in deep fried lobster, which is very good and very rich! They have great salad which is brought to you in a bowl with all the fixin's and dressings. Though I love ranch dressing, they make their own creamy Italian dressing which is probably my all time favorite salad dressing! Oh, and according to my daughter, and I probably also agree, they have the best onion rings anywhere. Of course, there are a whole bunch of restaurants that are great at Lake of the Ozarks!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mexican food can stir up an argument! There are the purists who claim old time Mexican food is the best! I disagree and I have figured out why. Original Mexican food is made with cheaper cuts of meat and the meats are not flavored as much. It seems like the flavoring is mostly done with sauces. In Modesto, I like Chevy’s for their chips and salsa, their steak quesadillas, and their fajitas, (all types). Some will say that they are not original. Okay, I agree – but there are a whole lot of Mexicans that seem to really like it too! In Missouri, Mexican Villa in Springfield has a great burrito enchilada style. They also have the best cheesy dip I have seen to go with chips. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Probably my favorite place to eat Mexican was at Lake of the Ozarks at another place that closed. They had great chips and salsa and when you had to wait for a table, they sometimes took fresh warm tortillas and filled them with strawberries and whipped cream to hold you over while you waited. Give me a few of those and something to drink and someone else can have my table! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They also had a great walnut brownie and ice cream on which they drizzled fudge or chocolate sauce. They also drizzled the sauce on the plate to decorate it. I was a little startled once, when I took a young woman there on one of those get to know one another to see if we wanted to actually go out on a real date type of occasions. She wound up eating the brownie and ice cream and then <i>licked the sauce from the plate</i> --- while looking at me! I was thinking, please do not let anyone else be seeing this and if so, please not let it be someone who knows me! Check please! Not exactly my type! No, we didn’t ever go out again!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Best cheesecake I ever had was at one of the Mexican restaurants down by Lake of the Ozarks. They deep fried the cheesecake in flour tortillas and topped it off with strawberries and whipped cream and there was some other topping you could get. I forget what it was because I got hung up on the strawberry and whipped cream one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Best Chinese ever, was actually Korean but said it was Chinese because most people think of Chinese food. It was an all you could eat buffet in Lebanon, Mo. It wasn’t in the best location but the food was ultra-fresh and ultra-good. They had all types of chicken and all types of beef recipes. All of them were good and flavored to where each could choose to fit their limit of heated spiciness. One of the best Chinese recipes ever is Cashew chicken as invented in Springfield, Missouri of all places! They have nothing like it here in California. Best egg drop soup and cashew chicken I have eaten was at another hole in the wall place in Lebanon, Mo. I forget the name.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I could go into others but can probably get a good enough argument going on just this list. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>From the Hillbilly’s Corner </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Hillbilly, fine food connoisseuer</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>So, why is it that none of The Hillbilly's favorite Missouri restaurants are no longer in business? Could it be because he moved to California?</b></span><br />
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-46001453237888582832013-09-11T21:58:00.000-05:002019-11-20T23:13:44.534-06:00This Post is Made from All New Materials and Has Not Been Recycled<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So The Hillbilly says I should surprise you and write a new post. He points out that it's been several weeks since I posted anything and, "That one was used."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Recycled! Nothing wrong with recycling."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"It was used."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's time for a look at "This Year's Names in the Eighth Grade," also known as "What Names Did All the Cool Moms Choose 13 Years Ago?"</span></i><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Year 2000 was brought to you by the Letters A and J. </span></i></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This year's students include:</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Abel </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Jackson</span></st1:place></st1:city></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Adrian</span></st1:city></st1:place><span style="font-family: "arial";"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">Jacob </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Alex #1</span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">Janelle </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Alex #2</span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">Jayden </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Alexis </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">Jenna </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Alyssa</span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">Johana </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Aria </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Jordan</span></st1:country-region></st1:place><span style="font-family: "arial";"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Armando</span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">Jose</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Athena </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">Joseph #1</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Austin</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">Joseph #2</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="color: black;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Julia </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I also have 2 Benjamins, and Breanna, Brianna, and Brianna. I've got 2 Victorias, neither of whom goes by Vicki. There's a Kelsy and a Carlee as well as Hailee and Haylee. There are 2 Destinys, 2 Graces, 2 Isaiahs, 2 Megans, 2 Olivias, and 2 Tylers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Some names I've never had in class before</i>:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aria, Athena, Brock, Dawson, Ebony, Efrain, Fallon, Holland, Jayden, Juniper, Kailani, Keoni, Levi, Lovesimron, Madeline, Merridia, Nancy, Nellie, Olivia, and Tatania.</span> <b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now try to guess which of those are boys and which are girls.</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This year is the first time I've ever had an Alyssa in class. As you know, that's my daughter's name. The first day of school this new Alyssa asked me to call her Lucretia.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Does your mom call you Lucretia?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"No."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Well, then I can't call you Lucretia. Besides, Alyssa is a good name. I gave it to my daughter!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Then can you call me Daughter?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Sure. Even better, I'll call you Sweetie Pie."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And I do.</span><br />
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-90435290702109303362013-08-15T13:06:00.002-05:002020-12-01T15:04:56.750-06:00Fun Flashback!<i>Just for fun, I thought I'd see what I was blogging about a year ago. At about this time last year, The Hillbilly and I took a trip to Georgia. On that trip, this happened:</i><br />
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So. I'm back from vacation. The Hillbilly and I spent 10 days traveling to see family in Georgia and Missouri. Along the way we drove through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Kentucky, Illinois, and Missouri. Whew!<br />
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It was a great trip. You can see some of the pictures in<a href="http://www.commonplacecrazy.com/2012/08/a-visit-to-model-wordless-wednesday.html" target="_blank"> my last post</a>. Along the way home, while driving through Arizona and California's Mojave Desert, it got...shall we say, hot.<br />
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I was very thankful for air conditioning. I was also grateful that we weren't trying to cross this desert in a covered wagon or even in one of the old jalopies of the Dust Bowl refugees. Even in my very comfy air-conditioned car, the sun felt hot as it beat down through the windows onto my legs. The windows were quite warm to the touch.<br />
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It was this situation that indirectly led The Hillbilly to put his foot in his mouth. Again. And to get into trouble with me. <i>Again</i>. Here's what happened.<br />
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We were still driving through the desert, but the sun had begun to set, and the air was cooler. The Hillbilly, as he often does, reached across the car at put his hand on my...knee. It was my knee, honest. (My children read this blog, you know.)<br />
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And then The Hillbilly said:<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"You're not as hot as you were before."</i></span></blockquote>
And I reacted like this:<br />
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Poor Hillbilly. He spent the next five minutes explaining that he meant physically hot ... I mean as in temperature.. The sun wasn't shining...<br />
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"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!"</blockquote>
Yeah. I did.<br />
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<b>So am I too mean? Or just mean enough?</b><br />
<b>Be sure to read<a href="http://www.commonplacecrazy.com/2012/08/his-side-of-story.html" target="_blank"> his side of the story here</a>.</b></div>
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-54114357400322890952013-08-13T19:52:00.000-05:002019-11-20T23:14:30.811-06:00A Memory<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">With school starting up again, I was thinking about my children's school days. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ben and Alyssa back in the day! No, Ben is not actually cross-eyed. He's just a boy. You know how they are.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This brought up a memory.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When Alyssa was in elementary school, I went to pick her up one day. My sister Chris was with me. Chris hadn't had any children yet, and she treated my kids as if they were her own. As we waited, I started to tell her what Alyssa had worn to school that day so she would be easier to spot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Chris said, "What she's wearing? You mean you don't even know what your own daughter looks like? I know what she looks like!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">About that time, the bell rang, and the doors opened, erupting with hundreds of children. It was a lot of children! It was a roiling mass of children! You know the scenes from the move World War Z with the zombies (fast zombies!) crawling over each other? It was like that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And my sister looked at me and said, "What did you say she was wearing?"</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5h59ulWxT6ScecfzEojT3fbnEtw7L4n2ME8N4yL6U3J27T1eN6zv9tuolt7jQbiGH3Bgy1JxK7VWrAEVZYMwyGXg13TCC5LnBIs3-D8if4PXECmUWbM3dDsArOyQg2Kv3I-7CpYKngC8/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-3119223359090457232013-08-04T23:51:00.000-05:002019-11-20T23:15:04.312-06:00The Hillbilly Explains Laps<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let's start off the week with a few words from My Hillbilly:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Facts About Laps!</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh! You thought I was going to talk about swimming or running laps! How could you think that? I mean that is just work that is called exercise! So no, today we are going to talk about the laps that we all have when we sit!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>1st.</b> Laps are very important! When we were small children and we were hurt or frightened, we wanted a lap to sit in for comfort. Though my mom’s lap is the only lap in which I remember sitting, (boys usually get too big for that fairly quickly), I am sure there were others. Laps were very important to our psyches! But also our laps are very important for picnics and such. I mean on what would we set our plates or fishing tackle boxes, etc.?</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUkojeNncEDKxuY9YjNKuF1MOE245CUt_6-WBN8533QL_dlgHzNrOX6s_z-8kyDzrP-V2WIu25BR1cfH7mpiPiV7IsnOAwooOI_IDu5UXyfNBkrWPdbbaQHtU4Xgj-ubPSZKsBQWIA9E/s1600/The_picnic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Family having a picnic" border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUkojeNncEDKxuY9YjNKuF1MOE245CUt_6-WBN8533QL_dlgHzNrOX6s_z-8kyDzrP-V2WIu25BR1cfH7mpiPiV7IsnOAwooOI_IDu5UXyfNBkrWPdbbaQHtU4Xgj-ubPSZKsBQWIA9E/s400/The_picnic.jpg" title="The Picnic" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Wiliamart (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>2nd</b>. Laps can be embarrassing. For instance, if you spill something in your lap from the aforementioned picnic, you can suddenly look like you wet your pants or at best, look like you are a klutz. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> My lap was once a part of an embarrassing experience. I was on either a first or second date and was talking to the girl’s dad (getting him to like and be comfortable with me), when suddenly my date came into the room, hopped into my lap and threw her arm around my neck! <i>Alrighty then</i>! Be a cool and suave hillbilly! Do not show that you are embarrassed! Give everyone the impression that this happens all the time. Smile at the girl! Then look at her dad. Do not show fear! Make sure that he realizes that you were completely innocent in this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Looking back at this, I have realized a couple of things! The girl, who was a nice and sweet girl, was giving both of us a not too subtle message. Dad, The Hillbilly is my date and he came to see me. Hillbilly, you need to get on the stick and start spending more time with me! I got the message! I don’t know how it all went down with Dad.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDFgWgJcTsGUgLdnW6jWX8MkvlkbHRMGfXUwJqTtE3bsgzwBMDoYj5nPK8nRfolBEmFhHCm3g-mh3hU34CHI4SGR85-veqWO3euw_MVLPgixYHDJ7SSLaVdOTLFYMsn6WvL-ZW5AL_qM/s1600/Chase_William_Merritt_Gravesend_Bay_c1888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDFgWgJcTsGUgLdnW6jWX8MkvlkbHRMGfXUwJqTtE3bsgzwBMDoYj5nPK8nRfolBEmFhHCm3g-mh3hU34CHI4SGR85-veqWO3euw_MVLPgixYHDJ7SSLaVdOTLFYMsn6WvL-ZW5AL_qM/s400/Chase_William_Merritt_Gravesend_Bay_c1888.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Merritt Chase [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>3rd</b>. Laps can cause trouble! A common one is a battle between children on which child gets into your lap! Around here, sometimes they all win, which means I win! Unless they all win at <i>once </i>which means I get piled on.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjomQTS0cjGeM4oBuMyaPEpGpEi9eLbulr7hRZI3_cYELQWIy9_olQKJdO9SSidTIcCQ0XvEsd5q4JtxPSLVDcatq9QmUWQ9jHw9dYKzwKNOjuseqZdH3TjonrzNVLZxvUEQotOkEvZD80/s1600/Storytime_Drawing.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjomQTS0cjGeM4oBuMyaPEpGpEi9eLbulr7hRZI3_cYELQWIy9_olQKJdO9SSidTIcCQ0XvEsd5q4JtxPSLVDcatq9QmUWQ9jHw9dYKzwKNOjuseqZdH3TjonrzNVLZxvUEQotOkEvZD80/s320/Storytime_Drawing.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Probably though, the most trouble my lap got me into was when I was around 19 years old. My girlfriend and I were at a high school basketball game. One of the varsity cheerleaders, came walking by and fell into my lap and arms! What? Of course I caught her! I mean I had to be careful for her safety! Well, that was the start of a bad night. I mean, I was innocent! But all night long, beginning then, I heard from my girlfriend ---- <i>She did that on purpose! She planned that!</i> I didn’t know and didn’t care! However, my girlfriend did care. She might have been right; I don’t know! The cheerleader was a ditzy blonde, so anything is possible. I just know that it did not lead to a good night!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Back to the importance of laps. If Cynthia has had a bad day, letting her talk it out while sitting in my lap is always a good thing. Another example of the importance and the fun of laps was recently again shown to me. The Princess, now 7 years old, stayed the night with us. The Princess, since the beginning, has always thought my lap was hers. Until she became too big, she thought of it as her sleep machine. She would get in my lap, have me scratch her back, and promptly go to sleep. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Princess and The Hillbilly</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At any rate, while staying the night, she was watching the movie <i>Brave </i>and eating popcorn. I was reading the paper and had planned on starting a project. About 15 minutes into the movie, The Princess began sidling up to me and said, “This part of the movie is kind of scary to me”. The next thing I know, she is sliding the newspaper over and getting on the edge of my lap. I put the paper down and let her get more comfortable. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Princess on Grandpa's lap</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This was the beginning of "Grandpa, will you scratch my back?" Which then led to her giving both Cynthia and me a running commentary of the movie, interspersed with "Don’t stop scratching my back. Do the spider thing, (where I take my hand and act like it is a large spider crawling up her back – to her ears – then to the top of the head). She then says, “That always gives me goosebumps!" Then she says such things as,<i> This next part is my favorite part of the movie. This next part is the funniest. This next part makes me sniff</i> (sad), followed on cue by sniffing, and so on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> This all continued with a second movie,<i> Ice Age Two</i>. After about 2 to 2 ½ hours of this, I got my lap back. It was a riot! I didn’t get any of my project completed but what is another day or two? Laps have a time limit! The kids will get too big, too independent, too smart, and decide they don’t need those laps any longer. You gotta make use of them while you can!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>From the Hillbilly’s Corner </i></span><br />
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<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-58503614092279125262013-07-26T01:09:00.001-05:002019-11-16T09:00:43.763-06:00The Hillbilly's Thoughts on Bullying<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>My Hillbilly has a few things to say on the subject of bullying. He takes it pretty seriously, as we all do:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There is a subject that I have considered discussing that kind of comes and goes depending upon our news cycles. That subject is bullying. I like most all people have been affected by it, but probably less than most because I was always large for my age, stronger than average, quicker than average, and athletic. I just wasn’t the type that the average bully chose to pick on. As a young kid, if I was going to be picked on, it was generally by someone quite a lot older and bigger than I. And really, they didn’t gain much from it because what does a bully gain by picking on a small kid? Let’s face it, that doesn’t do much to grow some one’s reputation.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWchZHt_tH7CSb0E0nN8TQ2YXEKRLOl4c0bbV_a5uXeUaeIr_jfKeHOiR_RoK3Hp8YHt669hMBWlrdX2Ff2LR08s4KpD741zEClUP7K8cwAgkvgnovsTw_JFMgEII-11273mhGi8CHRoU/s1600/Bullies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWchZHt_tH7CSb0E0nN8TQ2YXEKRLOl4c0bbV_a5uXeUaeIr_jfKeHOiR_RoK3Hp8YHt669hMBWlrdX2Ff2LR08s4KpD741zEClUP7K8cwAgkvgnovsTw_JFMgEII-11273mhGi8CHRoU/s320/Bullies.jpg" title="Bully news clippings" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/64/Bullies.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The first occasion I remember of being bullied was at a small country church that was having a revival. My family and I went to an evening meeting. I was about nine years old. After church, we small children were running around the building chasing one another and playing. Back then, there were some of the older boys (young men) who would stand behind the building and smoke. One of the times as I circled the building, one of the boys, probably about 18 years old, grabbed me and bent me over a wooden frame (I actually thought he was going to break my back) and basically began threatening me and told me to quit coming back there. Surprisingly, I never told anyone about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The second occasion, was on a school bus. I was twelve, the bully was a senior in high school. I am sure he felt very tough! And really, what bullying I was affected by was almost always by kids who were three or four years older and already physically matured.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Other children around me who were perhaps considered to be smaller, fatter, skinnier, clumsier, or more nerdy, were not always as lucky. Whether watching some of them being bullied or being bullied myself, I acquired a major dislike for bullies. In fact, if I hadn’t been brought up being taught against violence, it would have been easy for me to become a hillbilly who went around laying some serious head thumping on those who practiced it. Of course that would have made me no better than they! Even knowing that, if I got angry, I still sometimes reacted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In my freshman year, during the lunch hour, I came into a classroom to drop off my books. When I walked in, two bullies had a tiny little kid cornered and were threatening him. The little kid might have been 5’2” and weighed ninety pounds. The bullies were both 6’ with one weighing about two hundred pounds and the other one weighing about one hundred forty five pounds. They were really brave! I was 6’ tall and weighed about one hundred fifty five pounds. Without thinking very much, (Hmm! that might be a hillbilly failing) I got in their face and told them that they should try picking on someone their own size! I then finished by saying that I probably fit the bill. That backed them both down and they never even offered to try to give me any trouble. Being a bully doesn’t necessarily mean they are brave! The thing was, I probably did them a favor. The little kid had older twin brothers that were bigger than us and various other brothers who were older and even larger than they. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Also, still during my freshman year, and during the lunch hour, two large senior football players, put on a show of of roughing up and taking a small awkward freshman and pushing him back and forth like a ping pong ball. I always remember the look on his face and have regretted not trying to do something about that. I would probably have gotten thumped but maybe if I had told them to stop, everyone else that hated it might have spoken up also. I don’t know, but I do know that it wasn’t right.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">By my senior year, there just wasn’t much of anyone who would risk their tough reputation by bothering me. However, on the second day of school, I was sitting at a desk waiting for class to start, when a bully with the tough boy reputation entered the room. He had his little group of toady followers, you know the group, the ones that go yeah, yeah Butch, yeah Butch, you are really cool and tough, Butch! So nice of you to let us be your toady followers Butch! Yeah Butch, I think he looked at you wrong and disrespected you! Are you going to whip him now Butch? Huh? Huh Butch? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway he sent one of his followers over to tell me that I was in his chair, (none had been assigned). I shouldn’t have, but the flesh was weak, I looked at this toad, smiled politely and said, “Well you know what, I don’t particularly care where I sit, but I have this big pile of books sitting here. I tell you what, tell your big bully friend that if he wants to come over and move my books to another desk, I’ll let him have this one." The look on the toad’s face was priceless! He just couldn’t believe that I had dishonored and shown no fear of his cool, bully, hero! By the way, his cool, bully hero never said a word to me and I continued to sit there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I think we have all heard some of the psycho babble about people becoming bullies because of their home life, being bullied at home, etc. Perhaps that is partially true but I have known some who came from great families where none of the rest of them were that way. From what I have seen, most of the bullying has come from people whose IQ was surpassed by ----- almost everything! Yup, ignorance again!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A wise man, in having a talk with his son, after his being bullied, told him that one day he would be bigger than the bully. That came true and this is not an unusual occurrence! I became larger than almost all the people who ever tried to bully me. The little 5’2” kid that I rescued grew to be 6’6”. He became much larger and meaner than the two boys who were trying to bully him. Due to these types of occurrences, bullies, even with their low IQs, come to realize that their bullying days are over. When they don’t, bad things usually come --- things such as bad beatings, death, prison, etc. I wouldn’t have to try very hard to give you examples. Of course one of the best ones would be of the bully that wanted my desk. He wound up shooting his toe off, on purpose, to keep from being drafted by the military. <i>Yep! High IQs and bravery, I tell ya</i>! By the way, that sounds better if you put a southern drawl to it. ----- Just sayin'!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>From the Hillbilly’s Corner!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>As a junior high school teacher, I see a lot of bullying get started. I also see a lot of kids step in to help stop it. </b></span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Those are the kids who give me hope. Have you taught your kids what to do when they see bullying happen?</span></b><br />
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<iframe bordercolor="#000000" frameborder="0" height="150" hspace="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://ad.doubleclick.net/adi/N7433.148119.BLOGGEREN/B6675392.1748;sz=180x150;ord=[timestamp]?;lid=41000613802463762;pid=UBM0013132598864;usg=AFHzDLuj4s7k75chfCHqsZUs12fE6gzCzg;adurl=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.cdsbooksdvds.com%252Fproduct.jhtm%253Fsku%253DUBM0013132598864;pubid=541396;price=%2418.98;title=BULLY+BY+HIRSCH%2CLEE+%28DVD%29;merc=CDS+Books+and+DVDS;imgsrc=http%3A%2F%2Fc382716.r16.cf1.rackcdn.com%2F013132598864.jpg;width=61;height=85" vspace="0" width="180"></iframe> <iframe bordercolor="#000000" frameborder="0" height="150" hspace="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://ad.doubleclick.net/adi/N963.148119.BLOGGEREN/B6527721.7;dcadv=3632184;sz=180x150;lid=41000613802463524;pid=780037337;usg=AFHzDLvxGIrAXgJ6QVSlg2CrHr_fnKwXsw;adurl=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.cafepress.com%252F%252B%252C780037337%253Fproductid%253D780037337;pubid=541396;price=%2420.00;title=stop+bullying+iPhone+5...;merc=CafePress.com;imgsrc=http%3A%2F%2Fimages.cpcache.com%2Fproduct%2F780037337%2F780037337.jpg;width=85;height=85" vspace="0" width="180"></iframe> <iframe bordercolor="#000000" frameborder="0" height="150" hspace="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://ad.doubleclick.net/adi/N7433.148119.BLOGGEREN/B6675392.1742;sz=180x150;ord=[timestamp]?;lid=41000613802463762;pid=EDRE38873;usg=AFHzDLvj8ooltoyesWVStkE7pdG_pLHxqQ;adurl=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.comfortmarket.com%252Fedre38873.html;pubid=541396;price=%2427.96;title=Didax+DD-556602+Bullyi...;merc=ComfortMarket.com;imgsrc=http%3A%2F%2Fsite.unbeatablesale.com%2Fimg228%2Fedre38873.gif;width=85;height=85" vspace="0" width="180"></iframe><br />
<br />Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-53682099678096881742013-07-22T04:00:00.000-05:002019-11-16T09:01:36.573-06:00Waxing Poetic on a Summer Evening<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAARP4tJZYN8fiyHjMD-fL2XGsLYbIGC68veSh_0k528UBiIxGhy1OA6ztsV-6_cX0cHXUuzMKoyjidw0ysAukFskLvjTYspu53hX3QQ0WEUn9_DSum5mDSB4qbBtFa0pvHlMO7ySzgXg/s1600/River3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="photo by Cynthia " border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAARP4tJZYN8fiyHjMD-fL2XGsLYbIGC68veSh_0k528UBiIxGhy1OA6ztsV-6_cX0cHXUuzMKoyjidw0ysAukFskLvjTYspu53hX3QQ0WEUn9_DSum5mDSB4qbBtFa0pvHlMO7ySzgXg/s640/River3.jpg" title="Reeds on the River Bank" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I love spending summer evenings</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">floating on the river </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">basking in the quiet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">feeling the warm breeze on my skin like cotton.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDc4CDtLIVZrenRac3CdQk6Hc1RD0W_79dlSzUmrw03y2tXGAvm3gtGWbWheHjQcE4-A1DWYuAbjo-wgGZah3w-hs3iAuOpeGvk8JXUzUqrNu8mgdqg_pGLWPZDoVmLImSwxTuPwY-Os8/s1600/River1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="photo by Cynthia" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDc4CDtLIVZrenRac3CdQk6Hc1RD0W_79dlSzUmrw03y2tXGAvm3gtGWbWheHjQcE4-A1DWYuAbjo-wgGZah3w-hs3iAuOpeGvk8JXUzUqrNu8mgdqg_pGLWPZDoVmLImSwxTuPwY-Os8/s640/River1.jpg" title="Sunset on the River 1" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When the sun sets</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVYiaPJFAm_RVvYohTKAUThFjhd-MTBuXIvwhuD5L_hyphenhyphenInhWV5XVoHBeBbVpyJ8YoPDZAyQ56TfuoEu7ODul09gQWXDAU9bfZEvNendSMWFfGhwgq8OEdfyHSUh6yaL9WKNwMrU_4cOnI/s1600/River2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="photo by Cynthia" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVYiaPJFAm_RVvYohTKAUThFjhd-MTBuXIvwhuD5L_hyphenhyphenInhWV5XVoHBeBbVpyJ8YoPDZAyQ56TfuoEu7ODul09gQWXDAU9bfZEvNendSMWFfGhwgq8OEdfyHSUh6yaL9WKNwMrU_4cOnI/s640/River2.jpg" title="Sunset on the River 2" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When nature becomes still</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Peace flows like a river.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wish I could bottle this evening and keep it forever.</span><br />
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Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-69005291923064464592013-07-10T19:13:00.000-05:002019-11-16T09:05:49.898-06:00Is This the Feminism You Signed Up For?<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was born in 1959, the tail end of the Baby Boom. I was a child in the sixties. When I was in elementary school the evening news was full of the Viet Nam War, college protesters, and women's lib. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Women were demanding equal pay for equal work. They wanted the same opportunities as men. They wanted to be taken seriously. Women should be seen as equal adult human beings, not as sex objects for men to play with. All very reasonable proposals.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhICXghYubE23Sx7QXGBXFVIbPgy-ikj-P8mJFhohMqNJx8JYwL2djgunSTWDY9RIHEpnhK56nmBiMg_kgwbuEQhLmdN-IpxPWSTj7zdPXXpyndU5krnh2NP4sG_dQukFxCoZ-XTH-K63c/s1600/Leffler_-_WomensLib1970_WashingtonDC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhICXghYubE23Sx7QXGBXFVIbPgy-ikj-P8mJFhohMqNJx8JYwL2djgunSTWDY9RIHEpnhK56nmBiMg_kgwbuEQhLmdN-IpxPWSTj7zdPXXpyndU5krnh2NP4sG_dQukFxCoZ-XTH-K63c/s640/Leffler_-_WomensLib1970_WashingtonDC.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Leffler, Warren K. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today, women hold some of the most powerful positions in the country. They are doctors and lawyers, CEOs and senators. A woman <i>can </i>be taken just as seriously as a man. But what happened to not being a sex object? How do we expect not to be seen as sex object when we present ourselves like this?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And what are we doing toward teaching our daughters and granddaughters to respect themselves, to focus on their skills and abilities rather than their sexuality? We're marketing outfits like these to our teenagers:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgparWySaoIaA0plIvBcryHd9CQbprHzabmWqIVyovKJWaHyeotUAHCF2TgUjJLdAG68HhIoZMw-9PSwaXQCS1bGhMwutdg33nLUianYhwTNMXxfH5xHgFY8EnmFB2FrSNm1EZC1jHa4/s1600/juniors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgparWySaoIaA0plIvBcryHd9CQbprHzabmWqIVyovKJWaHyeotUAHCF2TgUjJLdAG68HhIoZMw-9PSwaXQCS1bGhMwutdg33nLUianYhwTNMXxfH5xHgFY8EnmFB2FrSNm1EZC1jHa4/s640/juniors.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From the web site of a well-known main stream department store Juniors Dept.</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I teach 8th grade. I've seen what our young women are wearing. Is this really what we want to teach them about their self-worth? The one with the cutest figure and the skimpiest outfit wins?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know the idea of modesty makes some women angry. Of course you have the right to wear whatever you want. All of this is just my opinion. You can dress any way you want, and I'll never tell you that you can't or even that you shouldn't. I will tell you that with rights come responsibilities. The decisions that we make <i>will </i>have results. They way we present ourselves determines in part how people perceive us. That's just common sense, y'all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">How did we get here? Maybe it's like the kid in school who makes fun of his clumsiness before anyone else can. They're going to laugh anyway. He's still clumsy, but at least the laughter is his idea. Maybe women realized that men are just hard-wired to be attracted to women. Men are going to be lustful anyway, but if I dress provocatively, then the lust is my idea. Some women somehow find that empowering. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As for <i>myself</i>, I choose to dress modestly. I'm not ashamed of my body or my sexuality. I just don't think it's anyone else's business. I don't hate my body; I just choose to present myself as an intelligent, dignified adult human being. Not as an object of desire. My husband desires me; that's enough.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOLjD0_OxyQscsE2q_DY757iJWC4O0LV-5EHSoTOcfe9p1zCTdNBAhAYy3uE8b5vvD7bgVUOxOJ6Iu5Ow4_OEMSybRHCDx9KeydOw7217GVeMo2UbzLAE-1kOE9Sv6iI9d8YayoY_10M/s1600/DSCF0401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOLjD0_OxyQscsE2q_DY757iJWC4O0LV-5EHSoTOcfe9p1zCTdNBAhAYy3uE8b5vvD7bgVUOxOJ6Iu5Ow4_OEMSybRHCDx9KeydOw7217GVeMo2UbzLAE-1kOE9Sv6iI9d8YayoY_10M/s400/DSCF0401.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Modest doesn't mean unattractive.</b></span></td></tr>
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Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-62341379421680117782013-07-02T19:00:00.000-05:002019-11-16T09:09:17.796-06:00Funny About Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6KhD9jcDoasIwZmtXRAlcWLeZHgh8YSA9UwDwb2zz2VIPVgjqXW6Ud9z654Ysl8wiJiaj82k5nzFGS_q8PFmmtSbQDUB11i63mwmMlIs4JTygFbfbsqxYwlIBzsnC4cA5d7eNuck5FjM/s760/euphony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6KhD9jcDoasIwZmtXRAlcWLeZHgh8YSA9UwDwb2zz2VIPVgjqXW6Ud9z654Ysl8wiJiaj82k5nzFGS_q8PFmmtSbQDUB11i63mwmMlIs4JTygFbfbsqxYwlIBzsnC4cA5d7eNuck5FjM/s320/euphony.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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So as I was exercising this morning -- okay, I was <i>thinking </i>about exercising. Shut up! I don't go to your house and call you a lazy liar. <i>What nerve</i>!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshmJZ84fS1ohZzjKECoEBDslZjkG3bjNjdwrkY7KOY5EUHflS4jsCkShg5TS8L2tyMRQ-6Xp_WDU38FIfP648xvtfxXHvHDy8Jb8vhaRcIqM-GzblQg3WBqk2v2GlgWaYGfRAGjdPV18/s1049/BattleCreekSanitorium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Calesthenics class" border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshmJZ84fS1ohZzjKECoEBDslZjkG3bjNjdwrkY7KOY5EUHflS4jsCkShg5TS8L2tyMRQ-6Xp_WDU38FIfP648xvtfxXHvHDy8Jb8vhaRcIqM-GzblQg3WBqk2v2GlgWaYGfRAGjdPV18/s640/BattleCreekSanitorium.jpg" title="Calesthenics class" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Cbl62 at en.wikipedia [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons</td></tr>
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Okay, so I was <i>thinking </i>about exercising, and it occurred to me what an ugly word <b>squat </b>is. I mean, aside from the actual meaning, which is not all that pleasant, just the sound of the word is ugly. Say it with me. "Squat." Just...ick!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOE25NO7Asgn66N5k0FN0AEwSVOTfkkcdRhXm1DLAdEwVIIIMffOZtIzKg213r8_SlC-I-ghCwUb4dm8GZ2kI5phxI_C_0lgBOmcseXvByFeJhh7ovkU0dqbxBtB-un8aMvMBou8B9S1k/s1600/Frogposephoto.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Girl squatting" border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOE25NO7Asgn66N5k0FN0AEwSVOTfkkcdRhXm1DLAdEwVIIIMffOZtIzKg213r8_SlC-I-ghCwUb4dm8GZ2kI5phxI_C_0lgBOmcseXvByFeJhh7ovkU0dqbxBtB-un8aMvMBou8B9S1k/s400/Frogposephoto.JPG" title="Girl squatting" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Crossfit girl (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons</td></tr>
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I read once that somehow researchers determined that the most beautiful, melodic word in English is "diarrhea." First off, I have no idea how that was determined. Was it a poll? Did they have to ask non-English speakers so they wouldn't be biased because of the words' meanings? I also have no idea where I read that and have no way of knowing if it's true. So we've already settled that I can't be trusted with the truth. The truth is irrelevant to this discussion anyway. <i>Quit harping on the truth all the time!</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCVcyIWjLllRFBy0EQOHoACTdL_PlIawgTS5et74296VoCweZL5pwuWIWyBsaU6q54pHeAhu-6sTBjkai9T0BXCxpD1rBrwXuqUB4mYFK2hPBxPEb6NYmMkAZy4B4MSEh6xmdOaGS4q9g/s1296/Jackweb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCVcyIWjLllRFBy0EQOHoACTdL_PlIawgTS5et74296VoCweZL5pwuWIWyBsaU6q54pHeAhu-6sTBjkai9T0BXCxpD1rBrwXuqUB4mYFK2hPBxPEb6NYmMkAZy4B4MSEh6xmdOaGS4q9g/s640/Jackweb.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In lieu of actual diarrhea, I offer this dirty little grandson, The Monster</td></tr>
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I also read a report that said a large number of people chose <b>cellar door</b> as the prettiest word in English. What do you think? Frankly, I just can't decide between <b>diarrhea </b>and <b>cellar door</b>.<br />
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Anyway, I definitely think that some words have nicer sounds than others. Some words are just fun to say. My favorite word to say is <b>gastroenterologist</b>. <i>Gas-tro-en-ter-ol-o-gist</i>. It's beautiful! It's like music! Say it! GASTROENTEROLOGIST!! Now that is a beautiful word.<br />
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<b>Serendipitous </b>is another pretty word, don't you think? Before I knew what it actually meant, I thought of it as describing something exotic and beautiful. It doesn't, but the word still carries that mood for me.<br />
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<b>Do you have a favorite word that just sounds nice to you? A word that you enjoy saying with no mind paid to its meaning? Share in the comments!</b><br />
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Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-7623311669404560702013-06-30T23:26:00.000-05:002020-02-13T15:04:42.426-06:0010 Things That Say Summer to MeThis week's Monday Listicle is about summer. We all have certain things that speak to us of summer. Mostly they stem from our childhood, and your list would be different from mine. These are the top 10 things that make summer real for me. <br />
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1.<b> Corn on the cob</b>. All my life, corn on the cob has been a summer time food. Corn <i>on </i>the cob tastes so much better than <i>off </i>the cob. And the butter! Lots of butter dripping off the corn and pooling on the plate. Hot and crisp and delicious!<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rSDzbDXv9ehUJAbFAZFfPCTfpVc-ADHE-r1vUFbIc7OQGF9gdCeDqhACqXdHuZovKcK-NA3_JUflPAWqXaM_B9N78I6Y-zOTrIOHkjfrKEWwc6A8EIopUc89l7yeL6lidVy-IDXFEcM/s599/512px-Corn_on_the_cob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Corn on the cob" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rSDzbDXv9ehUJAbFAZFfPCTfpVc-ADHE-r1vUFbIc7OQGF9gdCeDqhACqXdHuZovKcK-NA3_JUflPAWqXaM_B9N78I6Y-zOTrIOHkjfrKEWwc6A8EIopUc89l7yeL6lidVy-IDXFEcM/s400/512px-Corn_on_the_cob.jpg" title="By darwin Bell [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons" width="341" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ACorn_on_the_cob.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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2. <b>Watermelon! </b> I love a cold, juicy, sweet watermelon. Nowadays you can buy it all year round, but when I was growing up, watermelon was strictly a summer food. The grownups would slice it and hand out big pieces for everyone. Another drippy delight, but with the added benefit of stickiness. What's not to love?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QBkqIHGoukb6OTAcCNfPxwHwbOBk2QBrr8qYCfjShQcPshOT7u3ybgfKewZvJk-Koc68YacipPHsM_hYDhLhSfVS-xjEJJBIrnTPB0FlqT6IOIFqezqwzARnn18LYAD9xwZehtmKJ2k/s800/Watermelons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Watermelons" border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QBkqIHGoukb6OTAcCNfPxwHwbOBk2QBrr8qYCfjShQcPshOT7u3ybgfKewZvJk-Koc68YacipPHsM_hYDhLhSfVS-xjEJJBIrnTPB0FlqT6IOIFqezqwzARnn18LYAD9xwZehtmKJ2k/s400/Watermelons.jpg" title="By Steve Evans (Watermelons) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AWatermelons.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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3. <b>Bare feet</b>. When I was a kid growing up in Southern California, we never wore shoes outside during the summer. Or the spring. Or most of the fall. Or some parts of the winter. But I digress. Little feet could carry a lot of dirt, especially since digging to China was a very popular pastime. We moved to Central California with its 110 degree heat and discovered that a black asphalt street could burn your tootsies pretty severely. Which meant, of course, that you had to run across the street instead of walking. Other than that, nothing changed. Now add those dirty bare feet to the sticky, drippy goodness of watermelon, and you've got summer!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeKicF1CItQ1P3jAllgD8yVqdBm5CXoOP6RE1La1gbY-MFzFq4XVgDD24FSXKfgTZRxC4-D02sKyoH-c_jLZR9lnSmrrOeWS_dt5Ub59P30YiErreTsUCHCwfucEMlJJQUtJKnkniQbA/s439/Bare_feet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bare feet" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeKicF1CItQ1P3jAllgD8yVqdBm5CXoOP6RE1La1gbY-MFzFq4XVgDD24FSXKfgTZRxC4-D02sKyoH-c_jLZR9lnSmrrOeWS_dt5Ub59P30YiErreTsUCHCwfucEMlJJQUtJKnkniQbA/s400/Bare_feet.JPG" title="By Archenbridge Universities at en.wikipedia [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], from Wikimedia Commons" width="386" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ABare_feet.JPG" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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4. <b>Popsicles</b>. And by Popsicles, I mean real <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" target="_blank">Popsicle brand frozen treats</a> with two sticks that you broke apart to get two pops. <b>Two!</b> Two frozen, drippy, sticky sugar bombs! And, yes, we're back to food.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQA5XeZREOFMZnGhch51O2kIrz1dpz2yrowd2DshJTQu0zNKKSFQOX2xIfT4l14bmN0zJGWXLq0ROxeUnlYCkmHGWCCCVnmtAVL3etMUmBKLDWbKJ05RPTEMilSgrq0UO-cEs42KAp4_M/s334/popsicle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQA5XeZREOFMZnGhch51O2kIrz1dpz2yrowd2DshJTQu0zNKKSFQOX2xIfT4l14bmN0zJGWXLq0ROxeUnlYCkmHGWCCCVnmtAVL3etMUmBKLDWbKJ05RPTEMilSgrq0UO-cEs42KAp4_M/s320/popsicle.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
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5. <b>Barbecued Steak</b>. Yep. More food. When I was growing up, my parents' one luxury was barbecued steak on Saturday. I have the fondest memories of playing in the back yard on the freshly mowed lawn while Daddy grilled the steak. He picked the steaks personally from the local meat market and slathered them with his own secret sauce. I know the recipe, but if I told you, I'd have to kill you. Now throw in some homemade french fries, corn on the cob, and watermelon for dessert, and you've got yourself the perfect meal. The. Perfect. Meal.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25VW1WBiRDkXXMFtMFDoAHx005d1TUm8u9Kuxp2UqRtjodmfI0Pt-0TWLtBxEJI6O10lJfY6c52_ijFAusMqvnQEc_JzXXr7mHGXXo7EjLjKB70XCTgr_-5la4WRAZBw_liEeqqbpA4M/s1600/Grilling_Steaks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Steak on the grill" border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25VW1WBiRDkXXMFtMFDoAHx005d1TUm8u9Kuxp2UqRtjodmfI0Pt-0TWLtBxEJI6O10lJfY6c52_ijFAusMqvnQEc_JzXXr7mHGXXo7EjLjKB70XCTgr_-5la4WRAZBw_liEeqqbpA4M/s400/Grilling_Steaks.jpg" title="By _BuBBy_ from USA (365 Days Project 188/365: Saturday Night Grilling) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AGrilling_Steaks.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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6. <b>The Beach Boys</b>. Ah,<i> Endless Summer</i>. Daddy hung stereo speakers outside on the patio and listened to music as he barbecued. We came to call it Saturday Music. Elvis, Buddy Holly, Glen Campbell, Roy Orbison, The Four Seasons, and The Tijuana Brass. But The Beach Boys made it summer.<br />
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7. <b>Drive-In Movies</b>. There are very few of these in existence today, but when I was a teenager, we actually had choices: McHenry Drive-In, Ceres Drive-In, Stockton 99, Briggsmore. Briggsmore was the first to go. It's sad really. Drive-in theaters were awesome! You and your friends would pull into the dusty lot just before dark and sit on the hood of your car to check out the boy situation. As the sun went down, the temperature dropped to something bearable, and you hit the concession stand as the previews were starting. You worked your way back to your car, strategically routing your way past the car of that cute boy in your science class. Finally, just as the movie started, a summer breeze came up, sometimes carrying a distant herbal smoke from the other side of the lot. I feel sorry for you if you never experienced the drive-in. It really was awesome.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJL5ILfilyj0f9O3VcTp90lgfet6NiRpvywAM_vo5oO6T56s5isE4o6hVDIhdW-q6M-sZJtv2LgRa5Pk2UkZC_6VYE6TXpvwIqn24y9caToDDOhNjjletAVG_RheOaRmHQ88Hwr85MJYw/s1600/Hollywood_Drive_In_New_York.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Drive-in theater" border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJL5ILfilyj0f9O3VcTp90lgfet6NiRpvywAM_vo5oO6T56s5isE4o6hVDIhdW-q6M-sZJtv2LgRa5Pk2UkZC_6VYE6TXpvwIqn24y9caToDDOhNjjletAVG_RheOaRmHQ88Hwr85MJYw/s640/Hollywood_Drive_In_New_York.JPG" title="By UpstateNYer (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AHollywood_Drive_In_New_York.JPG" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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8. <b>The Ice Cream Man</b>! The purveyor of fine frozen goods for one mere dime. Yes, I'm that old. We might be outside playing when we heard it. That lovely little jingle that meant only one thing. Ice Cream! What happened next took great speed. We rushed inside to our parents and danced around as they came up with a dime for each of us. Sometimes begging was involved. I'm not ashamed to admit it. <i>It was ice cream</i>! Next, dime firmly clutched in dirty little fist, we ran outside hoping he hadn't already passed us by. There he was! We rushed to the curb and waved, and he stopped. He always stopped! The exchange was made, and we were in frozen sticky heaven!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcn4skHiu9bXcUeoXCT43AY_JcB749fuWPgFuSJWJb8t5LgPf0FIv1Yx0Q_VmCh1iKJXiL9Kgi6yOUeF1byUT7l8lL7esyf00QqzBqKSi-nC4DTxCpsbptJ6pxkfDz9OfUFqawyiFpDmA/s460/Vintage_ice_cream_truck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Vintage Ice Cream Truck" border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcn4skHiu9bXcUeoXCT43AY_JcB749fuWPgFuSJWJb8t5LgPf0FIv1Yx0Q_VmCh1iKJXiL9Kgi6yOUeF1byUT7l8lL7esyf00QqzBqKSi-nC4DTxCpsbptJ6pxkfDz9OfUFqawyiFpDmA/s400/Vintage_ice_cream_truck.jpg" title="Codepro at the English language Wikipedia [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AVintage_ice_cream_truck.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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9. <b>Sleeping in</b>. I was born at 10:35 P.M. Maybe that's why I've
always been a night person. When I was a teenager, I would sometimes
stay up all night reading. Just not bother going to sleep that night.
Being a teacher means I have to overcome my natural tendencies and
practice that early-to-bed-early-to-rise thing. But when school's out,
it takes no time at all for my natural disposition to take over. That
first night of staying up past midnight lets me know it's really summer
time. <br />
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10<b>. The smell of peaches</b>. We live in the San Joaquin Valley, which produces the majority of California's agricultural products. California, by the way, produces almost 13% of the nation's agricultural products. So we've got fruit. We've got fresh fruit stands on every other corner once you get out of town, and out of town is never far around here. When I was in high school, I walked along the main highway through Manteca (self-proclaimed Crossroads of California.) Highway 120 was a prime truck route for transporting fresh fruit and veggies to the canneries and packing plants. There is nothing to compare to the smell of a full truckload of fresh peaches, warm in the valley sun. It is divine. Simply divine. The peaches are ripe in June. Peaches mean summer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRY7k_yY-ewiIHhyphenhyphenUkwnkneLIvJUJHSodU6pL0712f1zJgdAYVfYUylI80HDhCtLvq7if1JkFO_S4SvwtT8rxorZjWd-zjl1st8_5Th8KzUGK1k0YJ00jyvtnxBJ3vNax9aGdTpVroY4k/s599/598px-Cross_sections_of_peach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Peach half" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRY7k_yY-ewiIHhyphenhyphenUkwnkneLIvJUJHSodU6pL0712f1zJgdAYVfYUylI80HDhCtLvq7if1JkFO_S4SvwtT8rxorZjWd-zjl1st8_5Th8KzUGK1k0YJ00jyvtnxBJ3vNax9aGdTpVroY4k/s400/598px-Cross_sections_of_peach.jpg" title="By liz west (juicy peach half) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons" width="398" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ACross_sections_of_peach.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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<b>How about you? What means summer to you?</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekGgBFNTJ8gjAshZI1hrhDTHedIbOoteDKtmWDpcHUArXtcKjAt7LuqbEpK89MLE1zJKy9JxWq47P1fMQ6mAIlNpZ1fF4w0QM4eKNoqMsyre9GwojDRe0i4wG1rqyLgGML6Bsd9CNwc4/s1600/Signature2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekGgBFNTJ8gjAshZI1hrhDTHedIbOoteDKtmWDpcHUArXtcKjAt7LuqbEpK89MLE1zJKy9JxWq47P1fMQ6mAIlNpZ1fF4w0QM4eKNoqMsyre9GwojDRe0i4wG1rqyLgGML6Bsd9CNwc4/s1600/Signature2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.northwestmommy.com/category/monday-listicles" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.northwestmommy.com/home/Listicle3.jpg" /></a>Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964024870473132.post-41492968275131316782013-06-24T04:34:00.000-05:002019-11-16T09:30:55.628-06:00My Top Ten Photos<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been wanting to hook up with the great bloggers on the <a href="http://www.northwestmommy.com/2013/monday-listicles-104" target="_blank">Monday Listicles</a> blog hop for a while now, but I just haven't managed get my posts ready. This week's topic inspired me to make a big effort because it's something I've been spending a lot of time on . This week, we're sharing 10 of our best pictures.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.northwestmommy.com/category/monday-listicles" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.northwestmommy.com/home/Listicle3.jpg" /> </a></span></div>
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As you know, I'm striving to become a not terrible photographer, and sharing what I'm learning at my other blog, Camera Crazy (now defunct). I've been taking pictures of relatives as well as pictures of our vacation spots. All of these pictures were taken in the last year, and I'm pretty proud of them. They're really not terrible!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmF9UpjGInouA3TcDEGfE6-elBnYnHWl5VeBayniOiEnlJKs852kWjI4Z1RPr9Si49yJK3h-vtEmmyTTuYUcyvhjjuu-9xl96uTOe5a3jqhXIcgJugJFkzxhKvITyQ26N20K-6n9yvew/s1600/IMG_36web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The Athlete and Miss Sunshine" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmF9UpjGInouA3TcDEGfE6-elBnYnHWl5VeBayniOiEnlJKs852kWjI4Z1RPr9Si49yJK3h-vtEmmyTTuYUcyvhjjuu-9xl96uTOe5a3jqhXIcgJugJFkzxhKvITyQ26N20K-6n9yvew/s640/IMG_36web.jpg" title="www.CommonplaceCrazy.com" width="512" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Athlete and Miss Sunshine</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My daughter-in-law, Caryn, called and asked me to take pictures of the girls for a Father's Day surprise. Of course I jumped at the chance! This is my favorite picture from the day, but they're all pretty adorable because of the subjects!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgseFlA2iVI64a1qtzUn2s5QM5_h0Rbb8aQNg2gaUGoqSwoYUfhzxnPmaJNU1ZgnfckQuCP60TJ6cLPfOU-5kzq3t5bXkzn5HnkcswVEQ9ZyHWbZ4vuA12kH54yiiq9T6hgGsmdxNS5vs/s1600/IMG_4201web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Flowers hanging on to the cliff" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgseFlA2iVI64a1qtzUn2s5QM5_h0Rbb8aQNg2gaUGoqSwoYUfhzxnPmaJNU1ZgnfckQuCP60TJ6cLPfOU-5kzq3t5bXkzn5HnkcswVEQ9ZyHWbZ4vuA12kH54yiiq9T6hgGsmdxNS5vs/s640/IMG_4201web.jpg" title="www.CommonplaceCrazy.com" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hanging On</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Hillbilly and I visited Fort Bragg, CA last week. It's a beautiful, relaxing place, and I love it. While we were there, we visited the botanical gardens, and I got lots of great pictures. This one is my favorite. It speaks to me and tells a story. I love the colors too.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Mwpm78HcGSuFpyc4LT1t5FUg7uCO5d4M7_2TAq5_ctUYnLuan0n1en5JRONk3ja1jC9O70kpso32pQQA329J5At0Hkdq6b3DJ-UulaXjWnytQg4_08OTPww_KjhOsQ3Dvbn8eoRIlVo/s1600/Walrus_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Boy and Walrus meeting" border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Mwpm78HcGSuFpyc4LT1t5FUg7uCO5d4M7_2TAq5_ctUYnLuan0n1en5JRONk3ja1jC9O70kpso32pQQA329J5At0Hkdq6b3DJ-UulaXjWnytQg4_08OTPww_KjhOsQ3Dvbn8eoRIlVo/s640/Walrus_web.jpg" title="www.CommonplaceCrazy.com" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Meeting</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have to admit that I just got lucky on this one. I even took it with my phone! It's one of my favorite pictures anyway just because it's such an awesome image. This was taken at Six Flags Discovery Kingdom in Vallejo, CA. I have no idea who the boy is, but I'm glad he was there.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOxkXBGhUWYOEb6RqDTuA1l_pKAm7EsaSNRqeQ8PC5OXklRpyVN99MEIrT13Pdz1Yq2MLpUhGbpk_zSqKI5y_gqGN_MATCrHz6A2SQiemtKpD6iTf2i-7VgH0_XhEyXTakcrtO94Hkn0/s1600/IMG_3624d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Pretty little girl in Easter outfit" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOxkXBGhUWYOEb6RqDTuA1l_pKAm7EsaSNRqeQ8PC5OXklRpyVN99MEIrT13Pdz1Yq2MLpUhGbpk_zSqKI5y_gqGN_MATCrHz6A2SQiemtKpD6iTf2i-7VgH0_XhEyXTakcrtO94Hkn0/s640/IMG_3624d.jpg" title="www.CommonplaceCrazy.com" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Princess at Easter</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We've taken a picture of The Princess sitting on this bench in my mom's yard every Easter since she was one. She's getting to be a great little model for me, and I love this mood we established in this shot.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8HxuW-lvEEaqS9yK51KMK3s0UUMQozFi7l_sBcu_Ub_Q6i9zRxSlx7B-d0Tig5Re8AvI20m1bVu9jj68YcdByJ7u5JYiSSX6iEY0aDPB4wGuxXt4TvQMwH7hF0rnA_5ubufqHSD1eKw/s1600/IMG_2578web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="friends" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8HxuW-lvEEaqS9yK51KMK3s0UUMQozFi7l_sBcu_Ub_Q6i9zRxSlx7B-d0Tig5Re8AvI20m1bVu9jj68YcdByJ7u5JYiSSX6iEY0aDPB4wGuxXt4TvQMwH7hF0rnA_5ubufqHSD1eKw/s640/IMG_2578web.jpg" title="www.CommonplaceCrazy.com" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Meagan and Jenna</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1a-Ru6sqI7aWY7UMjb07T6fLcywxfXMnx2P6YOqssVln0OBImNvNu3mhl2HYiWCcFzTxUjoe4ozhxuXTDvY8elNI9QcSPNTV0Z0JlAnLIKzcplPVVxI4i93heXvmEgixpBui_AA2h32E/s1600/Jenna_Meagan1WM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="two girls" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1a-Ru6sqI7aWY7UMjb07T6fLcywxfXMnx2P6YOqssVln0OBImNvNu3mhl2HYiWCcFzTxUjoe4ozhxuXTDvY8elNI9QcSPNTV0Z0JlAnLIKzcplPVVxI4i93heXvmEgixpBui_AA2h32E/s640/Jenna_Meagan1WM.jpg" title="www.CommonplaceCrazy.com" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiADPBIL-xjdmHsJM6GTzDRGK5edfn3mSy5RGG26Ovqd-AqFy-pJjWldyXhBNHb5_HGpDgvfGbdlHIiAoCiqeGv4YxN4ikoVGX6ks9OLvpASxWl3PyKoA9Eyt07cO2jmznIeyjXNEkKSA/s1600/Walking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiADPBIL-xjdmHsJM6GTzDRGK5edfn3mSy5RGG26Ovqd-AqFy-pJjWldyXhBNHb5_HGpDgvfGbdlHIiAoCiqeGv4YxN4ikoVGX6ks9OLvpASxWl3PyKoA9Eyt07cO2jmznIeyjXNEkKSA/s640/Walking.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDs_ayrIe1d1BryaokEt2KsJ9sA6VIOHmJ9PE4-0V8Db6VBhf1JmCEGSem5KMT68o4KTBenn-dvjvloR55XkduzLgFN9kAvUXXvSaEZbDxB4jdJFiIWrFqnyO_MCoqjiLlE8bathILek/s1600/Jenna_Meagan16wm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="running away" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDs_ayrIe1d1BryaokEt2KsJ9sA6VIOHmJ9PE4-0V8Db6VBhf1JmCEGSem5KMT68o4KTBenn-dvjvloR55XkduzLgFN9kAvUXXvSaEZbDxB4jdJFiIWrFqnyO_MCoqjiLlE8bathILek/s640/Jenna_Meagan16wm.jpg" title="www.CommonplaceCrazy.com" width="426" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jenna is my niece and Meagan is her friend. They are two of the sweetest girls on the planet. They were so great the day we did these. I made them do all kinds of poses and made them sit there while I fiddled with my camera settings. We'd do the same pose two or three times while I tried different settings. They never complained, and we had lots of fun. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Grand Canyon</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEWWXC4QBg4jZpL1jzPS0XBR53rnRf59wn00_osccDf3ofd5tSBPaQDjhAw1IPoWdLlGoC0JVIG9O9npTgeiO12oU6bl8JwOiYzFHtpkEnERDVkIhcFCDTbHwEPWDKCTOw5t5D-JSFgU/s1600/Grand+_Canyon_08+02+12_2542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Grand Canyon" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEWWXC4QBg4jZpL1jzPS0XBR53rnRf59wn00_osccDf3ofd5tSBPaQDjhAw1IPoWdLlGoC0JVIG9O9npTgeiO12oU6bl8JwOiYzFHtpkEnERDVkIhcFCDTbHwEPWDKCTOw5t5D-JSFgU/s640/Grand+_Canyon_08+02+12_2542.JPG" title="www.CommonplaceCrazy.com" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Grand Canyon</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We visited the Grand Canyon last August, and of all the pictures I took, these are my favorite. We liked them so well, we had them blown up on canvas and hung them in the living room. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>So those are ten of my favorites. I think they're pretty not terrible. Which do you like best? Any constructive criticism? Leave a comment! </b></span><br />
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I'm also linking up with the <a href="http://www.grandmasbriefs.com/home/your-life-in-jelly-beans-plus-grand-social-no-58.html" target="_blank">Grand Social</a> over at Grandma's Briefs.<br />
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Cynthia Meentshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14775952813637311480noreply@blogger.com