tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71660782387832158842024-03-13T12:11:18.728-07:00Morganatorsmorganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-39820308156296714492014-03-13T15:05:00.001-07:002014-03-13T15:05:40.454-07:00Summer Rules<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We Oregonians are currently wallowing in the gloom of an eternal downpour. These dream-like pictures of our summer past saturated with sunshine, blue skies, and swimsuits seem so realistic! Did this really happen? All these pictures point to yes and I optimistically draw the conclusion that clouds will part again and the sun will re-emerge as a welcome member of the solar system. <br />
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These pictures happen to be in Montana. At a pool at a condo on Flathead Lake, which I happened to frequent as a child myself. I think I mentioned this formative experience in a previous summer-related post. When I draw the summer trips to the condo from my memory bank, each detail evokes joy. The late afternoon drive along the lake. Burning hundreds of uncounted calories replaying scenes from "The Little Mermaid" in our own little ocean. My father burning hundreds of counted calories repeatedly heaving us out of the water, into the air, and back again (see above picture). Replacing those calories savoring a delicious fudgesicle from the local corner market. And finally a dream-like ride home belting out every word to Whitney Houston's single tape, "..and I-ee-I will always looove you, oooh oo oohh and I will always love YOU."<br />
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And here we are, a generation later, perpetuating the beloved memory. The only thing that tops experiencing this myself, is watching my children live the dream. <br />
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Robby almost got his for free with that charm.<br />
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Another dream was made reality as Robby got to sit in a really real race car. My childhood neighbor had, in his very own garage, a Camaro and it was green and was really fast. Robby even got to start the engine.<br />
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These are precious pictures as my neighbor, Len, passed away just this last year. What a wonderful last memory I have watching him treat Robby to the time of his life. <br />
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Len also happened to have an old buckboard in his backyard. This is just the kind of thing people have in their yards in Montana. <br />
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Ryan flew in to Montana for a few days, yahoo! Sharing summertime Glacier park with my family was a-okay. No, no, it was spectacular. And glorious. It was just fantastic. <br />
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This snapshot of Ryan tops the charts for me. Doesn't he look like someone you'd like to get to know? Lucky me. <br />
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We saw bears.<br />
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And parades.<br />
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The face painting was some of the best we've had, and free. The amount of free things in a small town blows me away every time I go home. Plus the fact that we arrived 5 minutes before the parade, got a great spot and enjoyed the whole thing with a comfortable amount of breathing room. Unheard of . So lovely. Plus I saw a handful of childhood friends: every one of my elementary school teachers, my soccer coach, and my girl scout leader. Okay, I didn't see all of those people, just most of them. The close-knit feeling is hard to get over.<br />
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We enjoyed fireworks of all sorts, most of them illegal in other states. One of the most persuasive arguments for a move to Montana, in Ryan's book, is the legitimacy of all sort of pyrotechnics to any layperson who so desires. And Ryan does.<br />
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This is an ironic photograph, not to mention choke-me-up precious. Let me explain, Kate and Grandma DeAnn share a remarkable attribute. In each of them is a deep desire to nurture the very most of any experience or person, often described as insatiable energy for life. But this is far more than a misguided pinging of random energy. I used the word nurture rather than push, squeeze, or bombard because they both have a refined sense of how to lead and teach. They both recognized each other's possession of this characteristic at a very early stage of Kate's life and, zap, they linked up. Usually this nurturing is very active and energetic, thus the irony of the photo. These two people are invaluable assets in this world. Residing squarely between them is one of my greatest gifts. <br />
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We did some kayaking on the lake. Thank you to Grandpa Pat for loading us, unloading us, showing us the ropes, and patiently teaching us how to not scratch your boats!<br />
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As we returned home, Ryan commenced a brand new job at Nike. So we made him a Nike cake. That is a Nike swoosh made out of strawberries. As if I needed to point out that obvious depiction. But the thought was nice. <br />
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Now I got to enjoy some girl time with Ryan's sisters in Utah! Aren't they lovely?<br />
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We were visiting for a Stampin Up! convention. We even got to visit the distribution warehouse, it was like watching my favorite episode of when Mr. Rogers visits the crayon factory, but in real life!<br />
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There were some pretty sweet games, which I usually tanked at. <br />
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But I did win one time!<br />
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We took a trip down memory lane and visited one of our 4 dwelling places in Utah. My leg did not get amputated at the knee, by the way. We happened to share this apartment with a crazy number of black widow spiders, spooky.<br />
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Kate turned 6 and had we had a ball celebrating her new number. She requested a flower birthday and I happily responded with the flower-licious party of the year. <br />
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Robby obliged all the ladies in attendance and stepped up his charm. </div>
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Even one of Kate's favorite people, Aunt Kaitlyn, traveled all the way from NY to be there!</div>
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And she brought Kate's other favorite person, Will.</div>
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Grammy gave Kate the dream of most six year old girls when she gifted her an American Girl Doll of her very own. Thank you so much Grammy! Kate was, and is, thrilled. <br />
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We made another showing at the beach with wonderful, relaxing trip. The Morgan family reunion was indeed a success. We enjoyed many tasty meals, great company, a priceless opportunities to make some memories.<br />
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I think Kate, Will, and Robby watched Cars 2 about 10 times. They loved it. <br />
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Kate and Robby felt the rejuvenated and energized by the vacation as well!<br />
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We visited the famous Seaside aquarium and fed the seals, that was pretty fun. And pretty stinky :)<br />
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Have you ever tried to build a fire on the beach with incessant wind blowing sand in your eyes? It's a challenge. But we conquered and enjoyed some pretty delicious hot dogs by the ocean. Thank you Ryan!<br />
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Last, but not least, Seaside inspired Robby to master the art of the two wheeler. He took to the bike like a pro, not to mention it was Kate's bike, two sizes to big. Great job Rob.<br />
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Okay, I think that wraps up summer of 2013. I wish I could go back, it was a great summer!morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-14695778071808318372014-03-02T19:09:00.002-08:002014-03-02T19:09:52.388-08:00June Bloom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Before I begin, I need a chance to unburden a load I've carried. I am heretofore going to suspend apologizing for my lack of blogging, or constantly residing in catch-up mode. Repeatedly apologizing for the same infraction does get old, doesn't it? Accepting that I am a gappy blogger has been a stress-reliever. Now, don't you feel better? I certainly do. I am glad that you accept me as I am, sparse blogging and all :)<br />
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Summer is springing, birds are singing, rain is still falling, girls are having spring dance recitals. Ahhh, what a joy!<br />
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I have said it before, but watching a tiny girls bounce across a dance floor brings a great deal of joy to my life. I love all those little dancers. There are some of these little nymphs know exactly their cues, their spots, and their moves and are more than willing to instruct any other girl who may lack that knowledge. Conversely, the ones who run haphazardly across the stage, with a tondu or plie thrown in here and there bring a certain magic not to be missed. All the while, the structured dancer is torn between hitting her spot and scolding the unruly dancer. I love it. You may have guessed it, but Kate could be classified as the structured dancer. <br />
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Here's shingles in your eye. Poor Ryan got shingles, IN HIS EYE. Ouch. On the upside, we got to give him a new nickname, Quasimodo.<br />
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Things started looking up as Father's Day approached and we celebrated early because how long can a 3 and 5 year old wait to finally give their dad the best present in the world that they picked out? Robby was certainly willing to open Ryan's present that day even if Ryan wasn't going to. So Ryan obliged.<br />
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It is a "Best Dad" trophy. It is true, he is the best. Now, there will be no debate about it, as the trophy is proof. <br />
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The first, "last day of school" happened. We ramped up the day with quite the shin-dig for Kate's little lady-friends. They crossed the finish line of Kindergarten without looking back. Great day.<br />
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Even Robby loved the last day of school. He got his sister back! Yippee!<br />
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We kicked off summer right with a trip to Cannon Beach. Beach has different meanings for different people. In our case, the term "beach" could mean sun, could mean rain, certainly means sand and wind, and usually includes fun :)<br />
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<br />morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-56725098358168476282013-06-02T21:06:00.001-07:002013-06-02T21:06:49.456-07:00Robby as: Himself<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As any boy should, Robby really digs an opportunity to get up close and personal with big rigs. Technically, this was Kate's kindergarten big rig day, but Robby definitely owned it. </div>
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Normally cautious in new situations, especially those involving new people, Robby clambered right up to take charge as the burgeoning driver he (thinks) he is. </div>
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As a sous chef, Robby shows real promise, taking careful notes as he observes a master in action. By the way, this dinner was a particularly divine composition of some of my favorite ingredients: sweet potato lightly roasted, black beans, garlic, cumin, lime cilantro rice, chicken, and don't forget the essential fried plantains. Yum.</div>
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Our first visit to the dentist. Robby was a champion patient. He quietly endured the whole experience. </div>
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He expressed to me afterwards that it was difficult to talk with all that stuff in his mouth. "She kept wanting me to talk, (speaking of the hygienist), but then the buzzy thing was there." Well said Robby, and my sentiments exactly.</div>
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In the list of top ten cutest things you'll ever see, is recorded: "3 year old children bouncing, skipping, hopping, and tumbling their way through a gymnastics class."<br />
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This class was no exception. This little boy gave all those girls a run for their money, and then some. His stint in gymnastics may not have had the life-span I would have hoped, but we sure enjoyed it for a few months!<br />
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Robby takes his time. This has been a defining characteristic of his since the dawn of his existence. And now, after a full year, he likes preschool. Hallelujah. I guess anyone would be described as "taking their time" after a kid like Kate speedy gonzales, do-everything-at-light-speed, race-through-life Morgan. <br />
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Robby the architect can build a car with nothing but eggs, cucumber, and bread. "This one goes super-fast"<br />
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"OH Man" is all he could say about this superb example of an edible submarine.<br />
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There weren't even words for this rocket ship. Just looks of utter amazement. <br />
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Bet you didn't know Robby can play a stellar Moses. About 80 percent of his character is carried by the beard, but a good 20 percent is gestures, costume, and a good staff to hold on to.<br />
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<br />morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-7138521734235144982013-04-30T00:53:00.001-07:002013-04-30T00:55:00.717-07:00The Holidays update contd.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Loch Lolly, our favorite little Christmas tree farm, was calling our name for a third year in a row. I think we may have a tradition on our hands. They meet one of our most significant qualifications, the Santa here doesn't scare Robby. Although you can see in the picture the eyes wandering, a little desperately, toward mom. Robby told Santa he wanted a pen-grenade like James Bond and super-hero vitamins. Neither of these things had been discussed beforehand, and I'm not sure that Santa grants wishes for weapons, at least he didn't for us. Pen-grenade was not delivered, but our little guy is looking more and more like a super-hero everyday thanks to those vitamins. <br />
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After a long day of tree-chopping and decorating, the girl was out. Robby was, of course, still up "waiting for Santa." <br />
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Ryan made us all the happiest people on earth when he prepared Beef Wellington for Christmas dinner. This dish's name must be capitalized to at least pay a small bit of homage to it's excellence. The man can cook like a master. When a dish's preparation requires purchasing a new pot from Le Creuset on Chrismtas Eve, you know it's going to be good (you can see my new red pot below :) Now Kate is telling people that her favorite food is Beef Wellington, but mac and cheese is a close second. <br />
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There he is, the vitamins are working!</div>
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Cousins love Christmas. It's 12:45 am, that's the best caption I can muster right now:)</div>
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Christmas morning stockings, yahoo! </div>
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Getting stronger . . . </div>
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And wiser.</div>
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The little angel. </div>
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Our great friends who were abroad for two years are back to host our favorite new years party. Here are the cutest little ladies ringing in the new year.</div>
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The Family. </div>
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Later that night. . . </div>
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Happy 2013</div>
morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-7134601907340987152013-04-30T00:15:00.002-07:002013-04-30T00:17:47.986-07:00When you think about Seuss! (the Reader's Digest version, a continuation of an update on our lives)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Here's more of what we were up to in November.</div>
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Kate played the part of "the elephant bird" and jungle animal, and circus animal, and fish in Seussical the Musical. If it were possible to fill someone's cup past full, this is what Seussical did for Kate. She drank this experience up, no, that's not accurate, she soaked it up, ate it up, lived it up . . . you get the picture. If there ever was a more fulfilled girl, I'd be surprised. This was quite a time-consuming and demanding commitment for a 5-year-old (and her mom), two 3-hour rehearsals a week, plus all the dress rehearsals But she loved every moment. We were very excited for Kate! <br />
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Here she is right after she "hatched." Her mom and Dad are Horton the Elephant (a doctoral opera student) and Mayzie (a professional actress, she was sooo funny). <br />
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Kate and the Cat, Russ, who carried the show like a champ. Isn't she cute?morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-479519364949236202013-04-29T23:59:00.002-07:002013-04-30T00:17:09.047-07:00The Firsts and the Lasts - An Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I am waaay behind. Here's a quick little update. </div>
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First day of the Kindergarten life. She rides the bus, has homework, and goes to recess. I can't believe any of it.<br />
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He goes to preschool with his buddies, loves the tricycles the most, misses his "grumpy, old, preschool friends" when he comes home, and takes snack time very seriously. <br />
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Finished my last class to finish my degree in Exercise Science. It only took three years, but I finished the one class I had left to get that official piece of paper. Now my walk in cap and gown is legit, go me and all the supporters who made it happen! <br />
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<br />morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-27931576539577819872012-11-18T19:26:00.004-08:002012-11-18T19:35:38.980-08:00Birthday 3x<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On turning 5 . . . </b></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: start;">It all began with a girl. She turned 5. Actually turned 5 years old. This particular age holds significant meaning: kindergarten, cooties, reading, tag at recess, school buses etc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b><b>But</b>, since this post is about the <i>birthday</i> I guess will define what 5 years old means in this regard. 5 years old for Kate means that as soon as all guests were present, every little female immediately filed upstairs, raided Kate's closet, and changed clothes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5 years old means that Ryan and I had to wax eloquent on the singularity of celebrating your birthday in the same month as the commencement of the Olympic Games, and therefore, convince her that her birthday should be themed accordingly. "Don't worry," we said, "there would be plenty of opportunities to "princessify" subsequent birthdays." She was only marginally convinced. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mix the aforementioned desires of the 5 year old, with those of the parents and you get little girls running foot races in princess dresses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robby, however, was not turning 5. The only changing he wanted to do was into Superman. He relished the Olympic Theme and charged through the races and games with masculine ferocity. Way to go Rob!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On turning 30 . . . . </b></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although I don't recall clearly, I'm almost certain Ryan flew home from a trip at about midnight the night before his call came to enter the new decade. The passing of time doesn't wait for the business trip to wind down. Time marches right on with the traveler's slightly fuzzy body (particularly the face) and mind in tow. And, whether he liked it or not, Ryan came home to meet his new age. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fortunately his 30 years have been good ones and each of the 30 balloons hanging above his bed contained notes that reminded him of the particulars of those years. Kate wrote some, I wrote some for Rob, and I wrote some for me. Without giving Ryan away, his reaction was priceless, and led me to believe this birthday idea struck gold. Added bonus: I won serious sneaky points when I maneuvered a ladder and two snickering little kids into our bedroom and taped 30 balloons to the ceiling without rousing the man.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There, see that face, that is Ryan beaming. It's a little shrouded by jet lag, Ryan's own awareness of a camera, and the fact that it is a photograph. But he is beaming. Ahhhh, it feels good to see someone you love feel good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Plus, each little note could not come out until a balloon was popped. Everyone loved that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is one of my favorite pictures from the day. Capture the moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: left;">Oh, and just after this picture was taken, we got blinds. Glorious. Now I don't have to crawl on the floor to get from the shower to the closet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On the Olympics . . .</b></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not a birthday, but so celebratory none-the-less.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two facts: we don't own a TV, and the Olympics aired this summer. This was a dilemma, so we rented a TV for the time of the Olympics and now we don't own a TV anymore. I am fully aware of how weird all of that is. Weirdness aside, I think the Olympics are one of the only justifiable television events out there. So amazing, moving, and inspiring. We loved every minute of our rented Olympic TV time. And we celebrated with our friends at a fun party they hosted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On turning 3 . . .</b></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every year from ages 0-5 a child experiences change and growth of mammoth proportions. 3 unlocks the door to preschool, swimming lessons, and primary classes at church. Age 3 may seem quite juvenile to some, but Robby is taking his steps toward adulthood quite seriously. He is contemplating his career options frequently, with monster truck driver topping the list at almost every evaluation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This face spontaneously appeared the day before Robby turned three, stuck around for about one month, and has since gone. Don't know what inspired it, don't know why it left. (Maybe it has something to do with wanting to drive a monster truck) This is often how I feel when I try to logic through the behavior of a three year old. It did make me smile though. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After enjoying a lovely breakfast in bed (crib) with Kate, Robby got to bust through his door in rare, NFL-celebratory fashion, through the crepe paper. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a energy zapping morning Robby needed to refuel and replenish those electrolytes. Following the footsteps of many great athletes, Robby prefers to hydrate with pickle juice. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happy day for a little man, 3 years of age. </span></div>
morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-3351780689730374202012-06-21T21:57:00.004-07:002012-06-21T22:34:22.657-07:00How to Eat a Hot Dog and other Helpful Hints<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Eat a Hot Dog</span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bmMP7Xgvm4M/T-FgcE4nGgI/AAAAAAAABKk/x2jL2hQ-zeM/s1600/DSC00481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bmMP7Xgvm4M/T-FgcE4nGgI/AAAAAAAABKk/x2jL2hQ-zeM/s640/DSC00481.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>1. Paint your face like a tiger<br />
2. Gather sauerkraut, spicy brown mustard, and a cooked hot dog. <br />
3. Take a bite of sauerkraut (do not swallow)<br />
4. Dip hot dog in mustard, take a bite of hot dog. Chew all items together.<br />
5. Repeat. <br />
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PS This kid also likes to drink vinegar. <br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Dance in Your First Ballet Recital</span></h3><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JCZpLS8FIJc/T-Fgn1o9IJI/AAAAAAAABKs/9vC3cYjR9L8/s1600/DSC00473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JCZpLS8FIJc/T-Fgn1o9IJI/AAAAAAAABKs/9vC3cYjR9L8/s640/DSC00473.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">1. Smile! </div><div style="text-align: left;">2. Look at your parents often, smiling and waving. </div><div style="text-align: left;">3. Make sure your leotard, leggings, hair piece and tights match with your friends. </div><div style="text-align: left;">4. During the recital, do not let the girl next to you miss her cue. Be sure to prompt her, very overtly, on any cue she may be missing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K9JBPO7nC3g/T-FgtVLOX2I/AAAAAAAABK0/4Z3F1EfO0Z4/s1600/DSC00479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K9JBPO7nC3g/T-FgtVLOX2I/AAAAAAAABK0/4Z3F1EfO0Z4/s640/DSC00479.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5. Remember, a lady curtsies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">6. AND, no matter the distraction, keep your eyes on the audience.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Make Flubber</span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>1. Mix glue and water. Be sure to splash this mixture all over the table. <br />
2. Mix borax and water. DO NOT touch this mixture under penalty of your mother's dangerous glance.<br />
3. Add the two mixtures together, with some blue food coloring. <br />
4. Watch it congeal and turn semi-solid. Be sure to add some really great oohs and ahhhs at the wonder of this transformation from liquid to slime.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Have a Proper Tea Party</span></h3><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wlgJLDr1Cu4/T-Fg-m9ZuQI/AAAAAAAABLE/G8ouZ6hSXrM/s1600/DSC00486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wlgJLDr1Cu4/T-Fg-m9ZuQI/AAAAAAAABLE/G8ouZ6hSXrM/s640/DSC00486.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">1. Invite your best friends</div><div style="text-align: left;">2. Set a beautiful table</div><div style="text-align: left;">3. Adorn your best friends in your fanciest dress-ups</div><div style="text-align: left;">4. Eat flower shaped sandwiches and crack jacks</div><div style="text-align: left;">5. If you do not want a tea party menu item, use this phrase, "No thank you, it is not to my liking."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Have a Proper Foot Race</span></h3><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aakxY8b-vgM/T-FhBhP2FxI/AAAAAAAABLM/fm6WJJ_JpTk/s1600/DSC00464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aakxY8b-vgM/T-FhBhP2FxI/AAAAAAAABLM/fm6WJJ_JpTk/s640/DSC00464.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. Enlist an amazing father to come up with the idea.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. Help your father draw a starting line</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. Invite your neighbor friends to join</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4. Fire a starting gun to indicate the beginning of the race. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5. No, don't get a gun. Just joking.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">6. Run your fastest to the end of the cul-de-sac while yelling or screaming.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">7. Be sure someone falls down. Recover quickly.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">8. Repeat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Spend a Friday Afternoon</span></h3><br />
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</div>1. Invite your Dad's fifth grade teacher over.<br />
2. Thank her for the huge bags of gifts she brings for you and your family.<br />
3. Listen to all the stories about how smart, talented, and wonderful your dad was in fifth grade<br />
4. Look at pictures she brought of your dad winning a writing contest, meeting an FBI agent, and putting on a play. <br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Celebrate Father's Day Prematurely Because Your Dad is Gone on the Real Day</span></h3><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>1. Make your Dad's favorite meal. Sausage, peppers, and onions. <br />
2. Dress up in your fanciest attire. <br />
3. Drink grape juice from your loveliest and most fragile goblets.<br />
4. Light the candles.<br />
5. Tell him what you love most about him<br />
6. Eat strawberry shortcake<br />
7. Fall asleep watching Lassie together with your dad.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Make Your Wife Truly Happy</span></h3><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6esLZr2nhvg/T-FhSg4jXbI/AAAAAAAABLk/AIzsJyHWI_c/s1600/DSC00365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6esLZr2nhvg/T-FhSg4jXbI/AAAAAAAABLk/AIzsJyHWI_c/s640/DSC00365.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. Hang hooks in the closet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. Hang your backpack up on the hooks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. Never put your backpack on the floor in front of the door.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4. Happy wife.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Jump on your Bed</span></h3><br />
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</div>1. Hang a banner, that your Grammy made, over your bed with your name on it.<br />
2. Climb in your crib and jump very high.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Pose for the Camera as a Princess</span></h3><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-61TADv2Kawo/T-FhZFI9NqI/AAAAAAAABL0/Z7jWy4B164w/s1600/DSC00379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-61TADv2Kawo/T-FhZFI9NqI/AAAAAAAABL0/Z7jWy4B164w/s640/DSC00379.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>1. Fully extend the wrist away from the body<br />
2. Extend arm slightly away from the torso. <br />
3. Flex the knee to a 45 degree angle.<br />
4. Smile<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0uHI5TZM3Xs/T-Fhcb2z_3I/AAAAAAAABL8/l5YvmJqPCPQ/s1600/DSC00380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0uHI5TZM3Xs/T-Fhcb2z_3I/AAAAAAAABL8/l5YvmJqPCPQ/s640/DSC00380.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>5. Enlist other princesses to pose with you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cJDbUVXpsEc/T-FhfL_yRlI/AAAAAAAABME/dXGLUcAx_jk/s1600/DSC00382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cJDbUVXpsEc/T-FhfL_yRlI/AAAAAAAABME/dXGLUcAx_jk/s640/DSC00382.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">6. Finally, solicit your local prince to pose and, if luck is on your side, he may agree. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Wrestle with your Dad</span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QlZuTbbK7dQ/T-Fhxb4ESoI/AAAAAAAABMM/rbrKh2vRvYI/s1600/DSC00397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QlZuTbbK7dQ/T-Fhxb4ESoI/AAAAAAAABMM/rbrKh2vRvYI/s640/DSC00397.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>1. Go over the ground rules about wrestling with no tears. (ha, ha)<br />
2. Jump on your dad.<br />
3. Try to get away from your Dad.<br />
4. Come back for more.<br />
5. End wrestling before someone has tears. (ha, ha)<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Travel to Montana</span></h3><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pu2869gRAy8/T-Fh56ORD_I/AAAAAAAABMU/ZHIUaPmzJpU/s1600/DSC00414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pu2869gRAy8/T-Fh56ORD_I/AAAAAAAABMU/ZHIUaPmzJpU/s640/DSC00414.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>1. Get you Amtrak hat<br />
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</div>2. Look out the window of your Amtrak train.<br />
3. Walk all over the train.<br />
4. Go to the viewing car.<br />
5. Order a delicious microwave pizza<br />
6. Burn your mouth on the pizza<br />
7. Repeat steps 3-4.<br />
8. Watch Mulan on the iPad with your headphones band-aided to your ear<br />
9. Fall asleep.<br />
10. Arrive in Montana the next morning.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Enjoy Life</span></h3><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X42hAV8DT6M/T-FiAlr1Q_I/AAAAAAAABMk/ukEv1uzglCU/s1600/DSC00424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X42hAV8DT6M/T-FiAlr1Q_I/AAAAAAAABMk/ukEv1uzglCU/s640/DSC00424.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>1. Go to Montana<br />
2. Hike Trail of the Cedars. Smell the singular fragrance of a cedar forest. Breathe deep.<br />
3. Pose for a picture by Avalanche Creek. Make your stinkiest face.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MVuzMi4gNnk/T-FiDG8THUI/AAAAAAAABMs/I_t1q9YDZxY/s1600/DSC00426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MVuzMi4gNnk/T-FiDG8THUI/AAAAAAAABMs/I_t1q9YDZxY/s640/DSC00426.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>4. Pose by Avalanche Creek. Make your loveliest face.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6KcfMhbHEY/T-FiMXaEsaI/AAAAAAAABM4/Qs8c_vWTChU/s1600/DSC00431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6KcfMhbHEY/T-FiMXaEsaI/AAAAAAAABM4/Qs8c_vWTChU/s640/DSC00431.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>5. Hug your Grandma and Grandpa close.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWbXzOYa-zY/T-FiOQ_ERpI/AAAAAAAABNA/yuyu6QFtoH8/s1600/DSC00437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWbXzOYa-zY/T-FiOQ_ERpI/AAAAAAAABNA/yuyu6QFtoH8/s640/DSC00437.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>6. Go down the laundry chute. With the approval and help of your grandma.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kJbdBXtq8p0/T-FiVf0_CbI/AAAAAAAABNI/BnMc-10ox_A/s1600/DSC00438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kJbdBXtq8p0/T-FiVf0_CbI/AAAAAAAABNI/BnMc-10ox_A/s640/DSC00438.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WopVV2W-OW8/T-FiXVYCGtI/AAAAAAAABNQ/D3LB9LLnPQ4/s1600/DSC00439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WopVV2W-OW8/T-FiXVYCGtI/AAAAAAAABNQ/D3LB9LLnPQ4/s640/DSC00439.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vvdX3g2XRSI/T-Fife5_sWI/AAAAAAAABNY/g8wbJLTQGG0/s1600/DSC00444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vvdX3g2XRSI/T-Fife5_sWI/AAAAAAAABNY/g8wbJLTQGG0/s640/DSC00444.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>7. Jump on the trampoline with your grandma and grandpa in the most beautiful yard on earth.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m29InIn4jgg/T-FinXgFQUI/AAAAAAAABNg/hx80-tEGqmY/s1600/DSC00449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m29InIn4jgg/T-FinXgFQUI/AAAAAAAABNg/hx80-tEGqmY/s640/DSC00449.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>8. Eat a huge lollipop. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l0YL7ai1v38/T-FivlpQRmI/AAAAAAAABNo/HzVrl2jsyj4/s1600/DSC00453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l0YL7ai1v38/T-FivlpQRmI/AAAAAAAABNo/HzVrl2jsyj4/s640/DSC00453.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>9. Continue to eat the huge lollipop next to your Great Grandma and Grandma<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zd4SxpupHn0/T-FizIHikLI/AAAAAAAABNw/Wsqv8izWoKg/s1600/DSC00458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zd4SxpupHn0/T-FizIHikLI/AAAAAAAABNw/Wsqv8izWoKg/s640/DSC00458.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>11. Drink a volcano root beer.<br />
12. Continue eating your giant lollipop. <br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to Plant a Garden</span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qdn4ALhfhrw/T-Fi5DrEEoI/AAAAAAAABN4/4GzIO1dDqh0/s1600/DSC00460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qdn4ALhfhrw/T-Fi5DrEEoI/AAAAAAAABN4/4GzIO1dDqh0/s640/DSC00460.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. Ask your husband to build you garden boxes. He will do an amazing job.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. Have 3 yards of dirt delivered to your house.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. Borrow a shovel and use your recycling bin as a wheelbarrow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4. Enlist the hardest workers you know to level the boxes, haul the dirt from your driveway to your boxes, and then clean up the huge mess.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5. Feed them lunch and say thank you 100 times.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SaiYPW-42nA/T-Fi7xuJt-I/AAAAAAAABOA/1dfhYLFxP0o/s1600/DSC00461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SaiYPW-42nA/T-Fi7xuJt-I/AAAAAAAABOA/1dfhYLFxP0o/s640/DSC00461.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">6. Plant the seeds</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">7. Enjoy your garden. </div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-77366683874320127162011-12-03T21:10:00.000-08:002011-12-05T14:31:14.993-08:00Cheerio Darling!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In the grand scheme of the need for gainful employment to support a family, there are upsides, and then there are downsides. Upside: money. Downside: dealing with money. Downside: recurrent traveling to distant lands for long stretches of time. Upside: frequent flier miles. Downside: many hours spent on a plane. Upside: using frequent flier miles for purposes other than work. Like flying your wife to London and Cambridge so she can join you on an exotic, once-in-a-lifetime, routine-altering excursion! </span></span><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">That's me, I'm the wife who got to do that. Can you believe it? Ryan and I got to travel to London and Cambridge, alone! Without kids! With lots of sleeping! With many meals enjoyed at restaurants where we sat uninterrupted through our entire meal, from the beginning to the end. I ate most of my food hot! Unless, or course, it was not intended to be hot. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Here's a brief synopsis. I like brevity when writing. If you'd like a detailed, blow by blow narrative, give me call and I would be glad to keep you occupied for some time. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">London </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u72RrcJQyx8/Ttr68OXnhQI/AAAAAAAABDo/tAwo_zUPLvs/s1600/DSC00196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u72RrcJQyx8/Ttr68OXnhQI/AAAAAAAABDo/tAwo_zUPLvs/s640/DSC00196.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Judging by the view out the window, you can see we had pretty nice digs in London. Just past that beautiful Renaissance Hotel, was King's Cross Station, so we were very central. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rsCcRzKRxTs/Ttr6-RKV9YI/AAAAAAAABDw/osOItFWpDSs/s1600/DSC00201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rsCcRzKRxTs/Ttr6-RKV9YI/AAAAAAAABDw/osOItFWpDSs/s640/DSC00201.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">As you turn the camera around, the reality of our room comes into view. Sweet. Bunk beds are the best when you are enjoying a vacation alone with your spouse.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xSXzqzC5QLo/Ttr7Ab1DxWI/AAAAAAAABD4/rWKNTXbBIp8/s1600/DSC00207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xSXzqzC5QLo/Ttr7Ab1DxWI/AAAAAAAABD4/rWKNTXbBIp8/s640/DSC00207.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Here is the spread at The Orangery, where we enjoyed high tea when we arrived in London. This tea room is at Kensington Gardens, right by Kensington Palace. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fz7v_p4C5ag/Ttr7CnGoQuI/AAAAAAAABEA/uc0i0hDnhiE/s1600/DSC00208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fz7v_p4C5ag/Ttr7CnGoQuI/AAAAAAAABEA/uc0i0hDnhiE/s640/DSC00208.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Seriously, the best tea I've ever had. It was absolutely delicious, we each drank our entire pot. And ate orange cake (of course) and carrot cake, yum. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fW5E1u3HUHA/Ttr7FWE3jjI/AAAAAAAABEI/Nb_jMuHZz0I/s1600/DSC00225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fW5E1u3HUHA/Ttr7FWE3jjI/AAAAAAAABEI/Nb_jMuHZz0I/s640/DSC00225.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">King's Cross station was all decked out for the olympics next year. That train station is pretty impressive. It feels like the crossroads for the whole U.K. that it is.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BfIZIQEyz_o/Ttr7L_vgD4I/AAAAAAAABEo/2byPIzUqimw/s1600/DSC00244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BfIZIQEyz_o/Ttr7L_vgD4I/AAAAAAAABEo/2byPIzUqimw/s640/DSC00244.JPG" width="358" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Victorian Albert Museum. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0bSx4LR3UJ8/Ttr7HH5QyBI/AAAAAAAABEQ/Yzw8RD8WOBA/s1600/DSC00232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0bSx4LR3UJ8/Ttr7HH5QyBI/AAAAAAAABEQ/Yzw8RD8WOBA/s640/DSC00232.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">One of the guys at the Victorian Albert. I think he's been growing that mustache since they put him in there. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iIlnfFQN1TE/Ttr7JwrtbFI/AAAAAAAABEY/DEw02e6b8P0/s1600/DSC00235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iIlnfFQN1TE/Ttr7JwrtbFI/AAAAAAAABEY/DEw02e6b8P0/s640/DSC00235.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The art lit room at the museum. So cool, so overwhelming. So all-encompassing.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VjEfQLKlwAo/Ttr7K6pVbHI/AAAAAAAABEg/8HKUeO1Pvfo/s1600/DSC00242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VjEfQLKlwAo/Ttr7K6pVbHI/AAAAAAAABEg/8HKUeO1Pvfo/s640/DSC00242.JPG" width="358" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> A little Chihuly in the foyer of the buildling. Chihuly is the best. I wish I could go to Venice and see his "Chihuly over Venice" display. His glass sculptures are lit and hung over the canals and you can enjoy them as a gondoleer gently navigates your way. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5fbcF2jnJwM/Ttr7OSvaPgI/AAAAAAAABEw/qI7k6lem9Zk/s1600/DSC00245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="358" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5fbcF2jnJwM/Ttr7OSvaPgI/AAAAAAAABEw/qI7k6lem9Zk/s640/DSC00245.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">A classic London shot. Harrods is way in the background. The double decker bus is there. I'm there. I'm not quite as classics as the other elements though.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-15-AbBuFpPM/Ttr7RpQMAhI/AAAAAAAABE4/O-UzL7-dBEI/s1600/DSC00256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-15-AbBuFpPM/Ttr7RpQMAhI/AAAAAAAABE4/O-UzL7-dBEI/s640/DSC00256.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">If you happen to go to London, you should make it your highest priority to go to Ben's Cookies. You will never look back. You will only want to revisit Ben's Cookies and get every variety as often as you can. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Ryan enjoying "the tube." London has the best and easiest public transit system ever. Plus, they announce the stops with British accents, and happen to be saying names like "Piccadilly circus" or "Paddington station." It's so amusing, although I think I was the only one who got a kick out of repeating the announcer in my best British accent. Other riders looked like Ryan most of the time. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The spread at Harrods. Harrods is like Nordstrom on steroids. It's a beautiful place to shop. Or in my case, window-shop. Unless I'm buying chocolate, then I'm on board for the whole experience. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The royal borough of Chelsea and Kensington. A.K.A., really beautiful flats in London. Which, as we researched, go from 8,000 to 40,000 pounds a week! Yes, I said week. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Cambridge University located in Cambridge UK is made up of several colleges. These are the dorms from one of the colleges. Look at those dorms! So classy and beautiful!</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The River Cam runs through Cambridge and lends itself to boating, strolling, and lots of cute little ducks. I expected James Herriot to pop around the corner with his dog on lead any minute. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">King's College. The most spectacular college campus you'll ever admire. The chapel here is where I attended Eucharist. The service was incredibly beautiful. The acoustics in this ancient and awe-inspiring building left me breathless and struck with the need to close my eyes to do the sound justice. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">This picture was taken my last evening in Cambridge. Although maybe not the most technically beautiful or perfect picture, the shot captures a personal feeling for me. This vacation was like a serene patch of beauty on a sometimes rocky path of life. We all encounter little, or very big, identity crises at some point along our paths, so I know my own little struggle with who I am was not a singular one. As I boarded the plane to leave the charm of the U.K. behind, I felt a refreshed connection to Ryan, my children, and my own identity in a way I haven't for quite some time. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Thank you to Ryan for working, flying, consulting, and all those other things you do to make this trip possible. And following my every whim as we bashed around London. And for being so handsome. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Thank you to the lady in Dallas who changed my flight last minute so I could go. (this is a great story, if you want to hear a great story, or learn how to get what you need from a delta representative over the phone, you should hear this story).</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Thank you to Kerry and Karen for their amazing commitment to be surrogate parents for a whole week. To a four-year-old and a two-year-old. I could go on forever about what this means to me (and what it meant for them). Thank you a million times, thank you!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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</div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-54394986287622293382011-09-26T15:31:00.000-07:002011-09-26T15:31:00.746-07:00The sweet return<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I mean this literally and figuratively as I refer to Ryan's recent return from Holland for a business trip. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Literally:</span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Mmmmmmmmm. I'm good for chocolate for a little bit.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Kate and Ryan shared lunch in the airport upon return. It sure was cute and sweet. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Ryan mentioned that while Holland may boast beautiful flowers and great treats, their food doesn't even meet sub-par Chinese fast food criteria. The memories of the food were only memorable because of their sordid nature. Example: deep-fried gravy and noodle balls. Like McDonalds chicken nuggets, only with fish gravy inside of some and noodles inside of others. Enough said.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Ryan has traveled a fair amount with his job. We miss him dearly when he is gone. We love his return. His absence reminds me how wonderful it is to have a great partner, and how great it is to have frequent flier miles! (you have to find the silver lining in these situations)</span></div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-56485006822871309402011-09-26T15:13:00.000-07:002011-09-26T15:14:52.966-07:00Pre-cool, As pronounced by Robby<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">A word or two on preschool: </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">1. I love it</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">2. Kate loves it </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">3. Robby loves it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">(He loves finding Harold the Helicopter in the toy box at drop off and pick up time. And calling it pre-cool)</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">First day pics.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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</span>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-87630107771616619652011-09-19T15:23:00.000-07:002011-09-19T15:24:35.064-07:00Cat Scratch Robby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7z4Ilr4s_Ak/Tne_pzqfn_I/AAAAAAAABDA/tc6ImDyUbDg/s1600/DSC00004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7z4Ilr4s_Ak/Tne_pzqfn_I/AAAAAAAABDA/tc6ImDyUbDg/s640/DSC00004.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Robby picked a fight with the wrong cat and will tell you, me, a bug, the garbage man, or anyone else about it. He loves to tell about the cat that scratched Robby, like this "Cat Scratch Robby." I capitalize each word because Robby is very deliberate with his words and takes his time with much space in between. He didn't learn how to speak from Kate, apparently. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">According to Robby, he was an innocent bystander. According to all witnesses (Kate), Robby was petting rather aggressively (hitting) at which point any self-respecting cat would teach that boy a lesson. Well, let's hope he learned his lesson.</span>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-83740641639774895952011-09-19T15:05:00.000-07:002011-09-19T15:08:34.854-07:0010 little huckleberries and other great news<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Great news first.... I was the lucky one to be in the Jewel Basin of the Swan Range of the Rocky Mountains on August 19. And I can report, in very Lewis like fashion, that 26 varieties of wildflowers inhabit the lush hillsides in this region.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Apparently the lack of sunshine and buckets of rain this little La Nina gal brought have not only dampened my spirits but those of the huckleberry in Montana. On any other year, the berries would be so abundant that the bears would have handed us the buckets get at all those little shrubs loaded with fruit. But this year I found 10.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Fortunately there were many other events during my yearly August pilgrimage to Montana (Ryan always has business to attend in Brazil in August) to redeem the huckleberries.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">#1 My kids get some serious Grandpa/Grandma time</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">#2 Lots of swimming! Kate learned to swim this summer, all alone. It's great.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> #3 Lots of time with Mom and Dad, for me</span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Of course, the fair.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Going backwards, this is what we've been doing....</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Kate's, no fuss, all girl (plus 4 boys that she just had to have), all pink, fantastic four-year-old princess birthday party. Talk about fun fully loaded with lots of sugar.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Cake compliments of Grammy, thank you Grammy!</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Had Ryan's birthday, of course with breakfast in bed. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Ryan's birthday ended with his favorite people doing his favorite thing: dinner at the park. The kids played and played. We had his favorite food: roast beef, boursin, red onion on sourdough sandwiches. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Happy summer had by all.</span>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-30318357673971995452011-07-31T15:57:00.000-07:002011-08-19T17:51:08.863-07:00Sleeping Kids<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
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<dd style="margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="line-height: 1.5em;">This psalm is in a little book of prayers for children that we own. It is sort of naive and simplistic, but I like it. (Maybe that's because I'm sort of naive and simplistic.) </div><div style="line-height: 1.5em;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: 1.5em;"></div></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The year's at the spring,</div></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And day's at the morn;</div></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Morning's at seven;</div></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The hill-side's dew-pearled;</div></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The lark's on the wing;</div></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The snail's on the thorn;</div></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">God's in his Heaven—</div></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">All's right with the world!</div></dd><br />
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</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">Although, if I were writing a utopia-themed psalm, there would definitely be a line in there somewhere about sleeping babies/kids. </span><br />
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</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">There is something radiant and pure about a slumbering child. Maybe this sleep state is so healing because for many children the contrast between sleep and wake is a such a vibrant contrast (aka Kate) and brings a welcomed respite. Maybe it's that the relaxed warmth of a sleeping child against my body reminds me of our sacred relationship. I sense </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;">vividly</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;"> how wholly vulnerable and dependent my little ones are on the caretakers they've been assigned, to shape and format their sense of the world. This plan of parent/child is not random and I am blessed to be a participant.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;">I wish I were better at distilling the feelings mentioned above and storing them in my "serenity vault." I could really use them at 4 pm when utopia is nowhere to be found and I am about 2 1/2 hours away from having a partner home to help with those little angels. I could open up the vault, draw out the image of my dreaming children and remember who they are and what I am doing. </span><br />
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</dd>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-92172758589549891722011-04-29T15:31:00.000-07:002011-04-29T15:33:55.177-07:00Nona and Papa's House and, oh yeah, Disneyland<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We were so lucky and took a trip, just our little clan, to California to visit Ryan's grandparents and Disneyland. I can tell which experience meant more to Kate, as whenever she is asked about her trip she says, "I visited Nona and Papa!" When prompted, she of course loves to remember Disney, but I really think she loved Nona and Papa's home more. Good to know. But for a little girl in the height of all things Princess, Disney was pretty great timing. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ryan was so great to plan most of the trip and make sure everything went fairly smoothly. Our flights were great, our hotel was amazing. Nona and Papa were so accommodating to a young, rambunctious family. We felt so blessed to stay with them and get to know them better. Ryan even got to stand in at Nona's tennis group because one of the ladies was missing. So he played doubles with three other ladies who were all 70+, that was fun to watch! </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Nona and Papa's backyard, complete with sunshine. This was the afternoon we arrived in California, and those rays felt just fine.</span></td></tr>
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</div> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Nona and Papa live in Westlake Village, right by Thousand Oaks, CA. Their home sits on a man-made lake and almost every home has a little party boat docked out front for pleasure rides around the lake. This was a great activity for our family, Kate and Rob even got to drive! The surroundings are beautiful there!</span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Robby loved Nona. He pronounced her name Nana. Robby also wanted Papa to go everywhere with us. He always asked for and looked for Papa. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is Nona's favorite Oak tree in their neighborhood. It's gigantic and gorgeous.</span> </div><br />
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</div> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The "girls" walking. Nona, aka Evelyn Muller, was born in 1925 but you would never guess it. She swims and plays tennis every week (and looks better in her tennis skirt than most 25 year olds) and can actually keep up with Kate, enough said.</span><br />
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</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Paradise Cove in Malibu. Simply beautiful! We had trouble calling it a beach, as our Oregonian definition always includes winter clothing and not a spot of sun. </span><br />
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</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I wish I had better pictures of Disney, we were on the go so much it was tough to get good shots! But we had a blast. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We arrived at 8:15 am, and left at 9:15 pm. Everyone was asleep before we left, and that almost includes Ryan and I. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We ate in New Orleans, had gumbo, jambalaya, mint juleps and beignets. We saw a parade, went to the Tiki Room, Jungle Safari, and a million other things. My favorite ride was Peter Pan. Robby's favorite was Autopia, except he was just barely too small so he got to watch his favorite ride. Kate's was probably the teacups because she got to steer! Ryan's was the chair he got to sit in with the kids while they napped in the afternoon and I explored on my own. I haven't been to Disneyland since I was three, so this was basically my first run, and I loved it! </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Dumbo ride is one of two memories I have of my first time as Disneyland. Robby loved it and loved pushing the lever up and down! I got in trouble this time for using my camera on the ride, oops. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Our little princess at the castle.</span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ryan was in is eight-year-old idea of heaven when we watched a Jedi-training camp for 4-12 year olds which included dueling Darth Vader and that other red-faced guy (my apologies to Ryan for my Star Wars ignorance). </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9nJ-namI3aw/Tbs14zQwPiI/AAAAAAAABAQ/DGmyW_j3z2s/s1600/DSC02067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9nJ-namI3aw/Tbs14zQwPiI/AAAAAAAABAQ/DGmyW_j3z2s/s320/DSC02067.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">All of Kates wildest dreams came true when she met and mingled with Rapunzel and Flynn Rider. Kate said she looked very beautiful. She had planned to say, to Rapunzel, that she was glad she escaped from Mother Gothel, but the intensity of the moment overcame her and she forgot. Still, it was one amazing experience for a little girl who begs to play "Rapunzel" every waking moment. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">You can see Robby's favorite guy, besides Daddy, in the background, Buzz Lightyear.</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bYVW96WzUSk/Tbs2aTOsDXI/AAAAAAAABAg/amZylE73wl8/s1600/DSC02069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7InKxej2JDs/Tbs2eXKwsSI/AAAAAAAABAk/9KqyQkaT0BY/s1600/DSC02066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7InKxej2JDs/Tbs2eXKwsSI/AAAAAAAABAk/9KqyQkaT0BY/s400/DSC02066.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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</div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-73390591176536995192011-04-29T14:27:00.000-07:002011-04-29T14:27:11.824-07:00WE didn't start the fire .... it was just meThere are some moments that are so horrifying and outcomes so indefinite it only seems appropriate that they be perceived to be occurring in slow motion, because you couldn't possibly take it in at real time speed. Car wrecks, kids falling off the play structures, and of course, fires in your kitchen. When I (with baby on hip) discovered smoke billowing out into the living room and saw the three-foot flame licking the hood above the stove, it all felt horrendously slow, the moment couldn't be over quickly enough. <br />
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I hesitate to share this experience because it was very scary and happened to be all my fault, very embarrassing, and in a house that I don't own. I feel I can share because all is out in the open with the owners and I can quite happily say most of the damages are totally repaired to their original state or better thanks to a very kind and supportive husband who never once made me feel any worse about my mistake. <br />
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A quick summary, I put oil in the pan to fry up tortillas for migas (maybe not relevant for a quick summary, but food's always important even if not relevant. Have you every tried migas? Yum. But not worth lighting your kitchen on fire.) I turned on the stove. At the moment I turned the knob, Robby woke up crying in his bedroom. The fact that I had turned on the stove didn't register in my brain as I was then thinking about Robby, so I went back to calm him and I was having a great time playing with him in his room when I suddenly heard our fire alarm and I knew immediately I was in trouble. Unattended heating oil ignited into an opulent 3-foot flame in my kitchen. As soon as I saw the flame I doubled back and put robby in his crib, shut the door and then proceeded to handle that fire while Robby returned to crying. I put on a oven mitt, picked up the skillet and took it outside. At this point I imagine my neighbors were quite concerned at the sight of me wielding a burning skillet. But then, miraculously, the flame surrendered to my fire extinguishing prowess and went out. All I did was walk outside and it retired.<br />
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As I returned to the kitchen and assessed the damage, I was overcome. The cupboards surrounding the stove were black as night, the ceiling was the same. The hood was almost unrecognizable and the control panel for the oven totally warped. After scrubbing off most of the soot from the cupboard fronts, back splash/tile area, and counters, it wasn't nearly as dismal a situation as I originally thought. <br />
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We learned oodles about home repair through this process. We got to:<br />
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1. Repaint ceilings/walls in the kitchen and entry way.<br />
2. Remove the old hood and install a new one<br />
3. Remove the old stove and oven, install a new one<br />
4. Clean alot!<br />
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Here are some before, during, and after shots<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mTaSwCcSDxU/TbsomiIsjTI/AAAAAAAAA-c/4H7T1N1fqa4/s1600/DSC01920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mTaSwCcSDxU/TbsomiIsjTI/AAAAAAAAA-c/4H7T1N1fqa4/s320/DSC01920.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Before</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">After </span><br />
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NO "after" shot on this one, as when I went take one, my camera broke. I didn't light it on fire, it just broke. You'll just have to trust that it looks way better. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">During</span>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-60346198416069209842011-02-21T12:30:00.000-08:002011-02-22T07:46:06.440-08:00These things are apart of me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Kate and I drew a lucky card when it comes to people who love us. While the Morgan girls choo-chooed North to Montana for a few days to see Gramma DeAnn and Grampa Pat - many helpers made the trip possible. Among them are: Ryan, who volunteered (see also: agreed to) stay with Robby in Oregon. Grammy, who also tended Robby for two days. Maile who, again, tended Robby (on his roughest day). Many thanks to all, I wish I could have shared an ice cream soda at Norm's and built a snow man with all of you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here's some of what we did: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GxTE-ZHWmis/TWK_vUa1_4I/AAAAAAAAA9w/JjCVfc5erjc/s1600/Laura+Kate+in+Kalispell+001+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GxTE-ZHWmis/TWK_vUa1_4I/AAAAAAAAA9w/JjCVfc5erjc/s400/Laura+Kate+in+Kalispell+001+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Norms News, a good old-fashioned soda fountain. and a superb place to celebrate anything. Birthdays, arrivals, departures, anniversaries, loose teeth, train rides, anything! <br />
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Think bookstore meets candy shop meets soda fountain, meets high school reunion and you've got Norms. Of course I saw one of my high school teachers there. It was great. <br />
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There's a fantastic mural on the brick wall depicting norms news through the years. The mural was behind us, and a big mirror was in front of us. <br />
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I got a ice cream sundae with fudge and nuts and whipped cream and a cherry. Yum. <br />
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Kate got bubble gum ice cream. Yuck.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S2jWAxP3Ng8/TWK-vQruPOI/AAAAAAAAA9g/lAT17Us4ylw/s1600/DSC01960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S2jWAxP3Ng8/TWK-vQruPOI/AAAAAAAAA9g/lAT17Us4ylw/s400/DSC01960.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mKFJBYSKMGM/TWK_g-1FfbI/AAAAAAAAA9k/zsfCTqnFlRQ/s1600/DSC01962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mKFJBYSKMGM/TWK_g-1FfbI/AAAAAAAAA9k/zsfCTqnFlRQ/s400/DSC01962.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> Plenty of sledding. Grampa set the world record for distance when he carved a track about 1/4 mile long. I know I exaggerate sometimes, this is not an exaggeration. It was a amazing. Even the deer were amazed. This is an exaggeration. They had to keep running to avoid freezing to death.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zWzo0gubZ2Q/TWK_iAJj4KI/AAAAAAAAA9s/yk25y_1vqMU/s1600/Laura+Kate+in+Kalispell+004+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zWzo0gubZ2Q/TWK_iAJj4KI/AAAAAAAAA9s/yk25y_1vqMU/s640/Laura+Kate+in+Kalispell+004+%25282%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>And a snow man/ UFO, minus the flying bit. His name was frosty he was lovely until his nose fell off the next day. <br />
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<b>A word on parents, addressed to my parents:</b><br />
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Some of you may have heard the term, "eternal round." I think this phrase and the word parenting should be listed as synonyms. Life is often one great big circle of loops, peaks and valleys; parenting included. My parents may have projected, like me, that after their youngest moved out they would shout, "finito!" Or maybe in their case, as English-speaking Americans, "done!" Not so. As the youngest, I thank you for your continued dedication to us, your kids. As a remote child you continuously call, you mail, you transfer funds, you send your love, and you pray fervently. As a visiting child you bought be breakfast. You helped pay for my train fare. You purchased new mascara for me when I forgot mine. You called the doctor for me when I needed a prescription. You chased down a new prescription for me after a fiasco with the original. You let me borrow your book I hadn't finished when I left. Even after all you did, you continued to urge me to disclose what else I needed and comfort me as my still child-like tears spilled over the distress of growing up. Ryan's parents, neither of you, and no one I know is perfect. Thankfully we have a big round life housing examples like you to soften the nudging elbows of mistakes and misdeeds. I love you both.morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-75479833932293127952011-02-04T12:15:00.000-08:002011-02-04T12:15:41.311-08:00Sayonara GoldilocksRobby's little pony mane crossed the river styx. Instead of continuing the internal battle to put it in a ponytail, I removed the temptation. With my scissors. Bye, bye little hair. Bye to that little part of babyhood. Sad.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TUxdwtzB0pI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/BTjNQXDzNhc/s1600/DSC01883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TUxdwtzB0pI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/BTjNQXDzNhc/s320/DSC01883.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Before</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TUxdzBE8ZNI/AAAAAAAAA9U/eZdVM513kZU/s1600/DSC01882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TUxdzBE8ZNI/AAAAAAAAA9U/eZdVM513kZU/s320/DSC01882.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> During</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TUxd0fIDVCI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/CX1fiD1Ebj4/s1600/DSC01885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TUxd0fIDVCI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/CX1fiD1Ebj4/s320/DSC01885.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">After<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Looking at these pictures now, I realized two things:</div><div style="text-align: center;">1. I'm not very good at cutting hair. Despite all the years of playing "hair."</div><div style="text-align: center;">2. I need a hair cut.</div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-31782524777043534392011-01-29T17:06:00.001-08:002011-01-29T17:15:23.690-08:00Inferiority be darnedI have to admit, I was having some inferiority complex issues with blogging. Generally the passive, non-competitive type, I have found that the number of comments I procured at the bottom of each little post was beginning to haunt me. Rationalization set in, and continued to set in, to the point of unhealthy; until I realized I was not blogging to document and share, I was blogging to see the comments from others. Which is totally great, I love reading comments from others about my posts. It's like a really slow, very short conversation. Even if I'm not the most popular, creative, or fun, I will continue. Even if I receive a million comments, or zero, I will continue. Because I like to write. And I like to write about my family. And I still like to read what you say. Amen.<div><br /></div><div> </div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-65142293258003782752010-11-03T16:44:00.001-07:002010-11-04T20:33:03.383-07:00Trick-or-Treat at Nordstrom<div style="text-align: left;">The story is: The kids and I were killing some time while waiting for Ryan by pretending to shop the Nordstrom downtown. (The closest I get to Nordstrom is the clearance racks at The Rack. I do wish I could get closer. But there's a big fat budget in the way)</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, the kids happened to be dressed up for trick or treating at Daddy's office and a lady approached and said we should have our picture taken. Assuming nothing is free, I politely declined. She approached us again later and asked again, I was a little annoyed at this point, which I apparently didn't hide very well because she said, "it's free!" I said "sign us up!" So we got this picture and got to be chic models for sperry topsiders. I think Kate hit the mark with her faux fur jacket, Robby might have been just a little too high fashion for topsiders in his care bear costume. </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TNH13A4J8TI/AAAAAAAAA6g/dMtQQNOAy5E/s400/nordstromhalloween.jpg" /></div><div><br /></div><div>In other halloween news: we dressed up 5 of 7 days in Halloween week (my enthusiasm to dress up the kiddos waned with each event, by the last time Kate simply had on leotard with raincoat as a Oregonian ballerina), heavily stocked the bribe box, saw a great halloween puppet show, and Robby was the cutest little care bear you've ever seen. You should have seen him walking in the costume, it was somewhere near a cross between an e-wok and a puppy. CUTE! Kate was simply glamorous as Cinderella. Even with all this cuteness, I think I'm done with Halloween. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh and here's Kate's preschool class. The little Barney in the front is her best buddy. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TNH5T7niT_I/AAAAAAAAA6w/9jZHT6jcZqg/s400/LGA_halloween_class_photo+(3).jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div><br /></div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-80895395158009550142010-10-10T22:58:00.000-07:002010-10-10T23:43:09.605-07:00You just have to...Post on 10-10-10, when does that happen? Besides today I mean. <div><div><br /></div><div>Eat one ( or two or three) of the warm cookies that come out of the oven on Sunday morning.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some mornings don't allow any other option, you just have to go back to bed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes you just have to rock your baby to sleep and hold them for a long, long time after they've nodded off and drown out the voices from your fear-mongering parenting book saying you'll raise an incompetent, overly dependent child if you do. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fall asleep on the couch.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Clean the ailing corners in your bathroom. Those dark-looking ones.</div><div><br /></div><div>Buy the pair of boots you've been eying your whole life, or at least a year or two.</div><div><br /></div><div>Come to grips with the fact that couponing is not your calling.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eat the last container of homemade raspberry jam from the freezer, knowing it is the very last one until next summer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Say happy birthday to your sister. Happy birthday Gabe!</div><div><br /></div><div>Until next time...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div></div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-43220945989760342002010-09-30T15:35:00.000-07:002010-10-03T11:28:42.714-07:00He's the ONE!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TKjKuiQuWHI/AAAAAAAAA58/j2Ggx_vqEpY/s1600/IMG_4043.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TKjKuiQuWHI/AAAAAAAAA58/j2Ggx_vqEpY/s400/IMG_4043.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523887843789658226" /></a>Robby turned one on Friday, September 24. This one little sweetie boy has 8 teeth, walks on 2 feet, goes down the stairs backwards on all 4's, is growing an innumerable amount of white hair, rides the trike on 1 bottom, sleeps 10 hours at night, naps for 3, bites 3 times a day (we're working on it), gives 15 hugs all the time, sniffs every flower he sees, raises two hands in the air whenever he's proud, drinks 12 oz of milk at every meal, eats all the groceries (not joking), spins in 15 circles when the music is on, and ate 2 cupcakes on his birthday. Oh and loooooves is 1 sister. Happy day to our little boy, the sunshine.<br /><br /><br />Here's breakfast in bed for Robby, a little long, but cute.<br /><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzCR9mn0C_oTMWmioUkwhA4elCIpj4hLb_m5YxHOqElON21927d7dgSufPpNjmOoKY1CHdyurkIHKElrcfJPw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TKjKRn41YtI/AAAAAAAAA50/1YN1w1VBvdQ/s400/IMG_20100925_135604.jpg" /></div><div><br /><div>These are the fun little monkey cupcakes we had. We had lots and lots of other treats too, I wish I had pics of all of them! </div><div> </div><div><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TKjKQ5AA4gI/AAAAAAAAA5s/UzwEsS269_A/s400/IMG_20100925_135837.jpg" /><br /><div><br /></div><div>Robby got a little banner for his b day. It's right above his high chair and he loves looking at the pictures of himself as he eats. </div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Rob's b-day was great, with lots of sunshine, just like him.</div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-17311567159922581232010-08-26T15:57:00.000-07:002010-08-26T16:23:01.774-07:00Livin is Easy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THb2CmAoSAI/AAAAAAAAA4o/Ib6vp8PiQBE/s1600/DSC01796.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THb2CmAoSAI/AAAAAAAAA4o/Ib6vp8PiQBE/s400/DSC01796.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509861718557739010" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">Summertime is messy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THb2CAL5idI/AAAAAAAAA4g/TTTpYIqgyCM/s1600/DSC01776.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THb2CAL5idI/AAAAAAAAA4g/TTTpYIqgyCM/s400/DSC01776.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509861708404459986" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Summertime is little dresses.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THb2BgMKttI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/hMus8PRhhtI/s1600/DSC01777.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THb2BgMKttI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/hMus8PRhhtI/s400/DSC01777.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509861699815651026" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Summertime is corn on the cob. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz5Bn1IRI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/5FBsN3_dLFE/s1600/DSC01792.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz5Bn1IRI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/5FBsN3_dLFE/s400/DSC01792.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509859355147968786" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Summertime is smiles. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz40NfDEI/AAAAAAAAA4I/OO9T0sl87zw/s1600/DSC01785.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz40NfDEI/AAAAAAAAA4I/OO9T0sl87zw/s400/DSC01785.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509859351547808834" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Summertime is messy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz4S7qo7I/AAAAAAAAA4A/u3_a83GJjk0/s1600/DSC01764.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz4S7qo7I/AAAAAAAAA4A/u3_a83GJjk0/s400/DSC01764.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509859342614700978" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Summertime is birthdays for Kate and Ryan.</div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz363Ri5I/AAAAAAAAA34/Mqd-dSKeyPk/s1600/DSC01763.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 368px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz363Ri5I/AAAAAAAAA34/Mqd-dSKeyPk/s400/DSC01763.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509859336153828242" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz3SGp-6I/AAAAAAAAA3w/UBX3nboua7Y/s1600/DSC01741.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbz3SGp-6I/AAAAAAAAA3w/UBX3nboua7Y/s400/DSC01741.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509859325212490658" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Summertime is fireworks.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbx03Hu_XI/AAAAAAAAA3o/gghTbZjFgwI/s1600/DSC01726.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbx03Hu_XI/AAAAAAAAA3o/gghTbZjFgwI/s400/DSC01726.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509857084586261874" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Summertime is fresh berries. mmmm. </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Mode switch: a few highlights from the last little bit. </b></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbx0h0mRCI/AAAAAAAAA3g/elGlXHnWxlo/s1600/DSC01735.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbx0h0mRCI/AAAAAAAAA3g/elGlXHnWxlo/s400/DSC01735.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509857078868853794" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We made this badge for Kate for the times when Ryan works from home. She is the protector of his office so no intruders keep him from brining home the bacon. She would never dream of being one of those intruders, that's why we put her in charge :)</div><div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbx0IYn1RI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/w2mfiio3PCg/s1600/DSC01723.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbx0IYn1RI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/w2mfiio3PCg/s400/DSC01723.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509857072040629522" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Playing the piano while Grandpa works.</div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbxzjg1x-I/AAAAAAAAA3Q/Cx_1GiQ-Hzc/s1600/DSC01721.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbxzjg1x-I/AAAAAAAAA3Q/Cx_1GiQ-Hzc/s400/DSC01721.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509857062142986210" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Kate made a hummingbird feeder.</div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbxzCZjPdI/AAAAAAAAA3I/CQGDTNbknDA/s1600/DSC01715.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/THbxzCZjPdI/AAAAAAAAA3I/CQGDTNbknDA/s400/DSC01715.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509857053254041042" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Peek a boo. Kate and Robby are beginning to play so well together. Robby is definitely beginning to have his own agenda and voicing his opinion more and more often. Kate's not sure what to think of someone else having an opinion.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-70343338955340449352010-08-11T16:05:00.000-07:002010-08-11T16:11:24.996-07:00The undisputed champion of tough<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyjDR3_FeFYeWyVGfh9pozASj4pSfFjrilVuTcXh-na7t0j7ut0HNEOBJfhA8k0fmFS9n-XlcHLUOogHFYbVw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Kate explains it well here. But what she didn't tell you is that she ran, jumped on trampolines, skipped, hopped, slid, danced, and climbed trees on her broken foot for a week before her dopey parents got her in to a doctor. But to our credit, it didn't really swell until 4 days after the injury and she never uttered one word of complaint unless we asked. She slept through most of the casting process and it still doesn't slow her down one iota. We went to the mc donalds playland today and she played tag with the other kids with no problem. I think she might be the type to have 5 kids with no epidural and come out smiling at the end. She sure is cute with that little cast on!</div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7166078238783215884.post-79767755171532914582010-08-11T15:58:00.000-07:002010-08-11T16:05:22.474-07:00I don't know how it happened<div style="text-align: center;">Last week I did a trial run as a mother to three when I cared for my sisters baby, Luke, for a couple of days. I don't think it was really a fair run as Luke is made of pure sunshine and gumdrops. Seriously, the only sounds he made would be sounds that could be recorded and used as a track on a relaxation cd. Anyway, I was still very proud when on 2 of the days <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>all the kids slept at the same time</b></span> for at least 15 min. So what did I do? I went to the bathroom and ate a sandwich, luxury.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here is the proof! It really happened!</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9xpHUJ3zhZA/TGMr_kPZTKI/AAAAAAAAA3A/cAh27a3gmvQ/s400/DSC01782.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>morganatorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07050976874974365654noreply@blogger.com0