tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769662635507493052024-03-05T20:06:04.274-05:00Girl Raised in the SouthGirl Raised in the Southhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11589779898471579630noreply@blogger.comBlogger364125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-47408616032327478932010-05-16T08:43:00.004-04:002015-02-23T10:11:06.587-05:00I'm Moving Again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just kidding. Sort of. I've told Don if I hated living in our new home I'd still stay a good ten years - moving is highly overrated and we're not going anywhere. But my blog is. <br />
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Just about every single aspect of our lives has changed in the past few months, so it seemed a good time to change up my blog too. So where? <a href="http://www.sweetteaandsass.wordpress.com/">Here</a><a href="http://wwwsweetteaandsass.wordpress.com/">. </a> What am I moving to? A new way of blogging - absolutely the real me, posts more often but shorter, generally. (Sometimes a girl just has to get something off her chest.) I won't have a site meter, won't even always allow comments if I can figure that out, won't have any sidebar links to anybody. I'll still be reading blogs of family and friends but I'm already learning time, with a retired husband at home, works very differently. On a beautiful level we have no schedules. On a maddening level we have no schedules. Time gets eaten up with sitting too long sharing morning coffee or fixing the septic system or 100 other things. </div>
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So I hope you'll feel inclined to move with me, but with no obligation to do more than sit a spell. Come listen to what life on a lake in central Texas is like - with a newly retired husband, kids around and kids sorely missed, new friends, no friends, snakes and such, bluebirds over breakfast, mostly conservatives and a measure of rednecks and racists, cranes fishing off our dock and bits of toilet paper flying up in the yard, gardens and cooking and sewing and knitting and reading books (when I find the time) - life in Texas is working out to be an adventure a minute most of the time! </div>
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Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-20714069280813576042010-05-10T21:01:00.023-04:002010-05-11T09:50:24.958-04:00Transformations<div style="text-align: center;">This is what we started with - it looked a bit sad and neglected.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPzUf3DTzoPLI1vqrI1CAW1r-LP0adkpBJX2fj-9TGsnM0ZGIS80Rj1dxPvGPGWidZOJlN7qv7GG9fLdIs272Eel_OeeT6VY3CRaCnTCwFHW7o6zbwEadhAuDHNb_-4idpSDYr932i3U/s1600/IMG_1658.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPzUf3DTzoPLI1vqrI1CAW1r-LP0adkpBJX2fj-9TGsnM0ZGIS80Rj1dxPvGPGWidZOJlN7qv7GG9fLdIs272Eel_OeeT6VY3CRaCnTCwFHW7o6zbwEadhAuDHNb_-4idpSDYr932i3U/s320/IMG_1658.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811678435259458" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Half driveway, half crushed rock and grass that had grown in. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7USbEkEZd_BbunoNbjTvxZAOrnPyH278QbXnxxMOGWtWq79ifg3QNgcM7NB6py08h_HfWY2RLH8xlYVZ0YZL0Nkcml7JLZIQH1emiDXoGj_I2Nxzwu4LPAm7E_rieFGpd6sp_Ci46v6w/s1600/IMG_1659.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7USbEkEZd_BbunoNbjTvxZAOrnPyH278QbXnxxMOGWtWq79ifg3QNgcM7NB6py08h_HfWY2RLH8xlYVZ0YZL0Nkcml7JLZIQH1emiDXoGj_I2Nxzwu4LPAm7E_rieFGpd6sp_Ci46v6w/s320/IMG_1659.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811682127311106" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">And there were too many trees - you couldn't even see the house.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We've pulled out 26 so far, with our eye on about 20 more that need to go.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNsRKCMlMLbpbJY0UciQB3Bnxi60Z4TeKvm2ukP8qJfR_G7DZT_wNqWmxV-q6mx1CVOie3ukjfE2Kc1jgcLtNh8-PswmX2HOKCvmXp09S7ZDQ97aFXy70eyv5Gs1fnmHWGx7Q5Wt9Y7uc/s1600/IMG_1660.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNsRKCMlMLbpbJY0UciQB3Bnxi60Z4TeKvm2ukP8qJfR_G7DZT_wNqWmxV-q6mx1CVOie3ukjfE2Kc1jgcLtNh8-PswmX2HOKCvmXp09S7ZDQ97aFXy70eyv5Gs1fnmHWGx7Q5Wt9Y7uc/s320/IMG_1660.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811684098276914" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">We hired Lester to come tear everything up, and pour a LOT of concrete.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2-HVpjV9aUWxfin6V1uHfF6jn_59Gh8_BT9JLLoHu9iBB1yiu8lPgOWq7OiBtpZXKTo65PFyYBXtYnLGq81omoOM-bD-2AEyS6oqAKbEE2sX3802KF58gs8Joo3KEvu1bM46DPahAog/s1600/IMG_1661.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2-HVpjV9aUWxfin6V1uHfF6jn_59Gh8_BT9JLLoHu9iBB1yiu8lPgOWq7OiBtpZXKTo65PFyYBXtYnLGq81omoOM-bD-2AEyS6oqAKbEE2sX3802KF58gs8Joo3KEvu1bM46DPahAog/s320/IMG_1661.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811689618113106" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Lester is good at tearing things up. He's also good at figuring out drainage so the next whopper Texas rain storm we get, the rain should run across the driveway and onto the yard, rather than into the garage...</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgdWshDZwPOycpuBGxHz4w7b4FhZdeFAR6wQ4ea1OSHfTwqMPSeep5ujP1Fgb0AnpLmcoyxUCkZ3oRewIAubniOm9yaG8Ss81WyGpIRSspd7xAiaXw0Ma0iCCBcvE8-egIO3q8CEkK-4/s1600/IMG_1662.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgdWshDZwPOycpuBGxHz4w7b4FhZdeFAR6wQ4ea1OSHfTwqMPSeep5ujP1Fgb0AnpLmcoyxUCkZ3oRewIAubniOm9yaG8Ss81WyGpIRSspd7xAiaXw0Ma0iCCBcvE8-egIO3q8CEkK-4/s320/IMG_1662.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811696260170962" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">We didn't want the driveway to look like a Walmart parking lot, so we included two big beds, with curbing to make water go the right way.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiWsVgY1c8KzNI4SbXSo2TaYYdP6O7uSTeivXt578RKSiV4GPOK0khynSxQcYfVsHskQn6aKYg6ma3jLGRdPlfBd17ZG7skPtJJYMije-Or6_iu29MJbHQf0R3V60NhDhbixxWRk2jbZk/s1600/IMG_1669.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiWsVgY1c8KzNI4SbXSo2TaYYdP6O7uSTeivXt578RKSiV4GPOK0khynSxQcYfVsHskQn6aKYg6ma3jLGRdPlfBd17ZG7skPtJJYMije-Or6_iu29MJbHQf0R3V60NhDhbixxWRk2jbZk/s320/IMG_1669.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811932370822050" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Very exciting to see the forms going in, and be able to see what it was going to look like when Lester was done.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yoONQnprf5IvZlSatHN05REn0_Do68WI30Se88APyKYnhQFuGqjXlcIl0VfJpRYipkkRr2fxShFLrQxeBE4dz4MOa4SbAWfLBJci5m7isLddxi5DF8ELe2ukH2uWH95q1EIfus2UTpQ/s1600/IMG_1670.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yoONQnprf5IvZlSatHN05REn0_Do68WI30Se88APyKYnhQFuGqjXlcIl0VfJpRYipkkRr2fxShFLrQxeBE4dz4MOa4SbAWfLBJci5m7isLddxi5DF8ELe2ukH2uWH95q1EIfus2UTpQ/s320/IMG_1670.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811936581165186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">There's the 'tree bed' in its beginning stages - high hopes it'll turn out pretty!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkjHl7IXDOLevY3OKwtzREZbBLv8jyRNG3Zqg-oGpxdz_84gLPjCeffm-or1Wd1Eb2MTrnvLEx0fGKYwnORDpm56oISx_mdYimzc8CWkAJeEkvYSLFY_h-WymNiOLPHsazcaxTuLZxzA/s1600/IMG_1672.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkjHl7IXDOLevY3OKwtzREZbBLv8jyRNG3Zqg-oGpxdz_84gLPjCeffm-or1Wd1Eb2MTrnvLEx0fGKYwnORDpm56oISx_mdYimzc8CWkAJeEkvYSLFY_h-WymNiOLPHsazcaxTuLZxzA/s320/IMG_1672.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811939664767298 " /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Old concrete - meet new concrete! Join hands and be friends, please!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYESDrI3rQhkAoRbN9f4DFVsHThwbDCGG5FonbzGAbWyhp0CC30mXDSrm9peZ6i_p-GaGo2NZ24bfwCW9e_3Owo3rQTGh7BoM_hwOHTnaeV7dqkE5OjSwMU6qfx1GF8EVRUC0yGsTUQOY/s1600/IMG_1675.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYESDrI3rQhkAoRbN9f4DFVsHThwbDCGG5FonbzGAbWyhp0CC30mXDSrm9peZ6i_p-GaGo2NZ24bfwCW9e_3Owo3rQTGh7BoM_hwOHTnaeV7dqkE5OjSwMU6qfx1GF8EVRUC0yGsTUQOY/s320/IMG_1675.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811943600400402" /></a>Thank you, previous owners, for leaving us crape myrtles, irises, daffodils...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBOZqibmAya0Jqyi2I_SARKCsPOX1WnpmhWa6itCtm1TcTRbW-oeIRZ0mvVjbwoaV-CXj7RddfADDmhMMklutLA_CWbsBCvzBVzICoxeoKgLzyonRInF5QH2OVR_lk1PQwM2Kj_CptPw/s1600/IMG_1691.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBOZqibmAya0Jqyi2I_SARKCsPOX1WnpmhWa6itCtm1TcTRbW-oeIRZ0mvVjbwoaV-CXj7RddfADDmhMMklutLA_CWbsBCvzBVzICoxeoKgLzyonRInF5QH2OVR_lk1PQwM2Kj_CptPw/s320/IMG_1691.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469811945847301442" /></a>Plain, but we've got plans to make it charming.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuaQA0qz8-7P0gtap_27N3JdjoDNhnUKMuI2JEOJjlSoF852GekvoFx_PUnlHDM54EuKPrgHoBBG92kWuXaPkB70sOcG-FFk9eEmKNS5j0WJK96U0QkZYlRcDhauguZcsZz2WqfI3KGW8/s1600/IMG_1778.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuaQA0qz8-7P0gtap_27N3JdjoDNhnUKMuI2JEOJjlSoF852GekvoFx_PUnlHDM54EuKPrgHoBBG92kWuXaPkB70sOcG-FFk9eEmKNS5j0WJK96U0QkZYlRcDhauguZcsZz2WqfI3KGW8/s320/IMG_1778.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812241719873058" /></a>There - much better. A nice little spot to sit in the evening and wave at neighbors driving by. Or read a book. Or drink morning coffee and watch the sun come up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY3EUeUklnB__OMs-G00TNBZmSHo0m8PvN0l-4HJNd-UXbtGDPCKhvjzdkSz81C78CSLROwPHpgZN3Y-zcIPDpxs0Xbh9L-UNOXypvEFzQh8g2CQwPMJoS2jV1HpTVEeWsOYGgM7WeekI/s1600/IMG_1756.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY3EUeUklnB__OMs-G00TNBZmSHo0m8PvN0l-4HJNd-UXbtGDPCKhvjzdkSz81C78CSLROwPHpgZN3Y-zcIPDpxs0Xbh9L-UNOXypvEFzQh8g2CQwPMJoS2jV1HpTVEeWsOYGgM7WeekI/s320/IMG_1756.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812227105189634" /></a>Mixing up concrete for a lamp post base.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUqLG2C7SkLgXszKu3zdYKb7tJBCW1bFby1VphJXwG2YM1zL6H50xxR8hfvtqF7Y1y9RVlCUfzLfucUz8jTgzmjwBgeeFhKLBGknJoipKm4ZNFz94YgHW6lc7UvVqg17-RjXI2kPui55k/s1600/IMG_1771.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUqLG2C7SkLgXszKu3zdYKb7tJBCW1bFby1VphJXwG2YM1zL6H50xxR8hfvtqF7Y1y9RVlCUfzLfucUz8jTgzmjwBgeeFhKLBGknJoipKm4ZNFz94YgHW6lc7UvVqg17-RjXI2kPui55k/s320/IMG_1771.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812229612039586" /></a>A bit of wiring. It's D.A.R.K. out here so a lamp post close to the house will be wonderful!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsl1k2JPKrLlkHys5PLxvmdZk64juMXGeRm__A-nGwWbmgy5LjgELTamUIes5j1GeHAvjz-DawV8xHHXzh12M1hZtpdZyF91upv0JgJCgtdWMg0-GlS3mcWG9-zGqPnlUZkkTpPfl77Is/s1600/IMG_1772.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsl1k2JPKrLlkHys5PLxvmdZk64juMXGeRm__A-nGwWbmgy5LjgELTamUIes5j1GeHAvjz-DawV8xHHXzh12M1hZtpdZyF91upv0JgJCgtdWMg0-GlS3mcWG9-zGqPnlUZkkTpPfl77Is/s320/IMG_1772.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812235956447890" /></a><br />Last touches to line everything up just right.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnbQmOqLRj8H3Gm3nESCd_sXUc8v1eVk4Cm_Gr86qx00qgITOKQubPOKMmdjbAFU66bhsBP0BPBF2UYWYz2_fpE0E3Hc3lZDRuvsJ1GymINvZz1h5Yu2c9FzpUVXGwY6wwSFLyevS1wiw/s1600/IMG_1783.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnbQmOqLRj8H3Gm3nESCd_sXUc8v1eVk4Cm_Gr86qx00qgITOKQubPOKMmdjbAFU66bhsBP0BPBF2UYWYz2_fpE0E3Hc3lZDRuvsJ1GymINvZz1h5Yu2c9FzpUVXGwY6wwSFLyevS1wiw/s320/IMG_1783.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812462491891602" /></a>Pretty, pretty. Just needs some ground cover and it's good to go.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZX71sD6B-30_wUuFsnKc0_wnCAFjdurZ6GiapZ294_JhVGL-yqxUGxW24o3lt9QMNUkDM79pcERpjjXcqkmgJpNe8bFGWxG9G56eem1BcASKo3WcuX-EEEvBHkm1YP7i9EglzIBwOXuM/s1600/IMG_1693.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZX71sD6B-30_wUuFsnKc0_wnCAFjdurZ6GiapZ294_JhVGL-yqxUGxW24o3lt9QMNUkDM79pcERpjjXcqkmgJpNe8bFGWxG9G56eem1BcASKo3WcuX-EEEvBHkm1YP7i9EglzIBwOXuM/s320/IMG_1693.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812224486097938" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Next - biggest bed in the front yard. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Before: WAY overgrown, falling down, and a perfect hiding spot for snakes.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq5802NXqt_cnC-uCcAiIZELEiIqtiiV98S1n-WBO_-apzBBYlJJczcTfOyGImXmj8CSSDFTBUKsTSXn9NuzNKzlr5z-yJCO7vfRitpRRhqlldxnX_8knwrbgcHvYey0DfPGQ09KunWFQ/s1600/IMG_1780.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq5802NXqt_cnC-uCcAiIZELEiIqtiiV98S1n-WBO_-apzBBYlJJczcTfOyGImXmj8CSSDFTBUKsTSXn9NuzNKzlr5z-yJCO7vfRitpRRhqlldxnX_8knwrbgcHvYey0DfPGQ09KunWFQ/s320/IMG_1780.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812467504832066" /></a>After weeding: much better, but the retaining wall fell apart. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Another project we weren't planning on. But thank you,</div><div style="text-align: center;">previous owners, for that bed of cannas!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmdl4GDlYJ-eiTHgZuh_x51sKhm2L3qLcJpgG4kTEsvT2mszHyJ0uzaKxcCPYuZSOqicYRhO85BNr07iKho_MKK8Jp775eg2-MyE3698vOvvkZnUFOcnT7RWM1dkBhtlLCNwnR7v8-E0/s1600/IMG_1797.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmdl4GDlYJ-eiTHgZuh_x51sKhm2L3qLcJpgG4kTEsvT2mszHyJ0uzaKxcCPYuZSOqicYRhO85BNr07iKho_MKK8Jp775eg2-MyE3698vOvvkZnUFOcnT7RWM1dkBhtlLCNwnR7v8-E0/s320/IMG_1797.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812476598384482" /></a>Back to the home supply store for 3,500 lbs of blocks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYjCYqj_2NuKQTYWx9j0ZOuno-il2sXRx9Wbl048o8bvPaSZYOSecNg6etm8w5-NqQwfpIf7euv3bwgeIHJg-uC4TA8iQOoo5IxgO4rpDUsutCwjh9xLWNOmrnX3U3AzuzM-ekfHSoHk/s1600/IMG_1796.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYjCYqj_2NuKQTYWx9j0ZOuno-il2sXRx9Wbl048o8bvPaSZYOSecNg6etm8w5-NqQwfpIf7euv3bwgeIHJg-uC4TA8iQOoo5IxgO4rpDUsutCwjh9xLWNOmrnX3U3AzuzM-ekfHSoHk/s320/IMG_1796.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812473623355522" /></a>"Hello Dan. Would you like to come be our slave, and learn how to build a retaining wall?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho1sf2X7wP4dRHDCNA6BSJ5XdmmXlVZWv3fYYiscPYageJF81teFyv_WGykpmPK5chB4YnqASSRFTVXfR4LyQtdY3OyI_1iRd5mffZyC5q-jnbKZc1WkbLv3l4HtBfr-2W_I9joUKlh90/s1600/IMG_1799.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho1sf2X7wP4dRHDCNA6BSJ5XdmmXlVZWv3fYYiscPYageJF81teFyv_WGykpmPK5chB4YnqASSRFTVXfR4LyQtdY3OyI_1iRd5mffZyC5q-jnbKZc1WkbLv3l4HtBfr-2W_I9joUKlh90/s320/IMG_1799.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812479321913746" /></a>He looked like he was having so much fun...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgHBxYTlxjQuGdVqPUblc5efcmkFzs-ZeNWZx0hRcpbq1zyAb9k_ZivePLw7R3aY0mrvdti8PsQmUV89J0KZhoGfQphQ5_RRrC1q7cPlEfMJ-8QtlZpTF9XJGUYKryj-lXi70jkPIPio/s1600/IMG_1800.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgHBxYTlxjQuGdVqPUblc5efcmkFzs-ZeNWZx0hRcpbq1zyAb9k_ZivePLw7R3aY0mrvdti8PsQmUV89J0KZhoGfQphQ5_RRrC1q7cPlEfMJ-8QtlZpTF9XJGUYKryj-lXi70jkPIPio/s320/IMG_1800.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812883409745762" /></a>I decided I needed to learn to drive it too!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMvHdKYa-gDtROM5WuCZo5BLE-MsatcW5dnTI7QJYMBxbYp2qydp_up_CucpDTco-Q3GizBSBseddu81KM_lk7ngLHIQEekP6hS4gnMrE7k9VbQGKLtidb2x6gpIxj8MHRgoz5hdnQAQ/s1600/IMG_1803.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMvHdKYa-gDtROM5WuCZo5BLE-MsatcW5dnTI7QJYMBxbYp2qydp_up_CucpDTco-Q3GizBSBseddu81KM_lk7ngLHIQEekP6hS4gnMrE7k9VbQGKLtidb2x6gpIxj8MHRgoz5hdnQAQ/s320/IMG_1803.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812899192181618" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">After: much better, and manageable. And not scary.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXPZtsvyQjADsgITcj91gDwhkdIyHza5d6ZyTI3SvRaUHco8fGdjbQkVmj46iAgSNy6naz97tm_c-iWTGoSWoD9RV70m-FQ_KRlF_UOGCXvtatAi7a16O0CetKCq0RHybKtXkZYDrodC8/s1600/IMG_1804.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXPZtsvyQjADsgITcj91gDwhkdIyHza5d6ZyTI3SvRaUHco8fGdjbQkVmj46iAgSNy6naz97tm_c-iWTGoSWoD9RV70m-FQ_KRlF_UOGCXvtatAi7a16O0CetKCq0RHybKtXkZYDrodC8/s320/IMG_1804.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812900026116658" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Hard working men - thank you Dan for being our slave for the day. xoxo</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgChuEvjuEifxoIYHxbYj-JcuxjggCWc7gbEr29QIFp9EPX7C4_RLKh4AkJJkgnINru8_yeX0hVknV0FsOX1aWSBiCYpQ6H77K49jYNGBCRjF5abYcDDGtn5wBU19atG_9HbSW1Eo4UKzk/s1600/IMG_1802.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgChuEvjuEifxoIYHxbYj-JcuxjggCWc7gbEr29QIFp9EPX7C4_RLKh4AkJJkgnINru8_yeX0hVknV0FsOX1aWSBiCYpQ6H77K49jYNGBCRjF5abYcDDGtn5wBU19atG_9HbSW1Eo4UKzk/s320/IMG_1802.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812889462442242" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Soooo much better! Makes me happy to come out and see it in the morning!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshdYt8KRQ1fbD8WX4pk3sN4XdHf2RAHoL5cB34hQStIvcOP2AJOVk8moEZw6pq8foRGLvanTwPYwqJMNKLmhwOsEHEAH_rr5bjNDPCxZ9WxyBikEopCxefICB5HLdvfezQSokWhfFmoQ/s1600/IMG_1806.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshdYt8KRQ1fbD8WX4pk3sN4XdHf2RAHoL5cB34hQStIvcOP2AJOVk8moEZw6pq8foRGLvanTwPYwqJMNKLmhwOsEHEAH_rr5bjNDPCxZ9WxyBikEopCxefICB5HLdvfezQSokWhfFmoQ/s320/IMG_1806.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469812904196852754" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">A bird feeder next to that crape myrtle, then a bit of mulch and we'll call it good - one BIG project knocked out. </div><div style="text-align: center;">And we beat the Texas heat too! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm heading indoors for a bit of stripping wallpaper and painting kitchen walls (and pie safes). I'm thinking Don is going to hide out in his shop and try to avoid me for awhile.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I can't say that I blame him. He's lost enough weight, working so hard, that he's going to need a pair of suspenders soon. He's told me, so far, retirement is harder work than work was!</div></div></div></div></div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-90375077084658404592010-05-08T08:54:00.006-04:002010-05-08T13:24:59.749-04:00A Cat for Mother's Day!<div style="text-align: center;">I've had a cat since I was 15 years old. We've been 'catless' for about a year now, since I gave my cat, Miah, to my grandson, Landon. (Man, are all those commas right? Looks like a lot.) Anyway, now that we're at the lake I've been hinting to Don that I might need another cat. I've prayed that God would just send one my way and have been leaving a dish of food out on the deck for awhile, just in case God needs help. It's been eaten a few times, although I'm not sure if my visitor was a cat or armadillo. Or raccoon. Or skunk.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstzXfGpXN6N2kpxMpOVXBBUYiaUkaJH_ipQOGiX8M90kLZVuOxvuhEvyTNX0IFAW8qhI4Dw-Ko54hL9OHjjuiYML_7_2YMS-_fVjxGmPYLzUmyfraqJAgJuliKvi8rsiZbKYc89VoEPQ/s1600/IMG_1765.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstzXfGpXN6N2kpxMpOVXBBUYiaUkaJH_ipQOGiX8M90kLZVuOxvuhEvyTNX0IFAW8qhI4Dw-Ko54hL9OHjjuiYML_7_2YMS-_fVjxGmPYLzUmyfraqJAgJuliKvi8rsiZbKYc89VoEPQ/s320/IMG_1765.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468884303092650866" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">So we went shopping in Waxahachie yesterday (isn't that a fun name for a town?), and Don bit the bullet and bought me a cat for Mother's Day. I was so hoping not to get another long-haired, and I am a bit partial to a calico. But this one looked like it could use a good home.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYk3o3gPsrbuNVqQeBAqZA8hgntu2kWL-oBbM0l_79zcQyup1Ebeqyhqe1Sp4YmCD6JpCUSDBdMtj8YkVCux3BzV8wCy9CLnrwwkitOQnGLEbRscBPwGnmaR5e5_iDeCByX1jQ9Wtu3r8/s1600/IMG_1767.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYk3o3gPsrbuNVqQeBAqZA8hgntu2kWL-oBbM0l_79zcQyup1Ebeqyhqe1Sp4YmCD6JpCUSDBdMtj8YkVCux3BzV8wCy9CLnrwwkitOQnGLEbRscBPwGnmaR5e5_iDeCByX1jQ9Wtu3r8/s320/IMG_1767.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468884297011375026" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">A full grown cat. A very calm cat. I tend to think kittens are a bit over-rated, dealing with all that skittering around, clawing up the furniture, and cat-box lessons.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN9aInM7oeyAX8ZN6J7aH7WYMWRi5Aek9Ny4bLmC56ywE4mzj6_sXl7STba4uxCrUxqrcZjM8709xTIr36rPZ9LgX3V9_IiFlb5zAgBbB-Aqh0rSuNZ-VK7G5gkV7OfEzYTLYjyZkFETc/s1600/IMG_1770.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN9aInM7oeyAX8ZN6J7aH7WYMWRi5Aek9Ny4bLmC56ywE4mzj6_sXl7STba4uxCrUxqrcZjM8709xTIr36rPZ9LgX3V9_IiFlb5zAgBbB-Aqh0rSuNZ-VK7G5gkV7OfEzYTLYjyZkFETc/s320/IMG_1770.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468884290516028770" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Who would have dreamed we'd find the perfect cat at an antique store?! $15 and she never needs shots or food or vet visits. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKmLpjx1idwn7GviEvqAPg1jbuQ_D1j7w5I6vaxOvYeuL7wjZMi7iTQo2OSGhNAgJrUhggdcG6T0m0YUXvyeqMy_Yv91fS8EAZTDSHmlPeiRSFteUdzdRiNG4gd2xxs3fLKaLRa6QSls/s1600/IMG_1764.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKmLpjx1idwn7GviEvqAPg1jbuQ_D1j7w5I6vaxOvYeuL7wjZMi7iTQo2OSGhNAgJrUhggdcG6T0m0YUXvyeqMy_Yv91fS8EAZTDSHmlPeiRSFteUdzdRiNG4gd2xxs3fLKaLRa6QSls/s320/IMG_1764.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468884281470864386" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I haven't picked out a name for her yet, but I did buy a quart of brick red paint for this. It fit in the back of the Durango with a whole 2" to spare. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Still thinking about a real, alive, purring cat. Still praying - maybe God will send me one. In the meantime, the pie safe will be a great start to warming up the kitchen. Anthropologie has some monogrammed knobs - I think it's going to look great when I'm done. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy Mother's Day everybody!<br /><br /></div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-23551829387240344042010-05-07T00:02:00.006-04:002010-05-07T00:11:51.284-04:00Pardon the GoreBut we had our first snake event at the lake today. Don was busy working on putting in some wiring for a light pole in front of our house; he left the electrical junction box for a bit, to assemble the light, and while he was gone I wandered by. There, curled up and around and all over the electrical box, was a S.N.A.K.E.<br /><br />In retrospect, now that our hearts aren't beating quite so fast, we are sad to think that this was probably a harmless rat snake of some sort. I, being the thorough type, have a book called very appropriately, "Texas Snakes". But when the snake is curled around the electrical box you don't run in the house and get the book. You grab the camera and take a step or 10 back, while you watch your husband whack it with a shovel. <br /><br />So - we ordered a poster of poisonous snakes that we'll put up somewhere in the garage for future reference. While I don't really want to adopt any snake for a pet, we also don't want to kill a harmless snake. Instead, brave Don will lift him with the pitchfork and carry him across the yard, setting him loose in the vacant lot next door. Even knowing he might well come back for another visit. In the meantime, is anyone out there up on their snakes? Anyone who doesn't have a queasy stomach? <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCOSMO4gkOrpZlJgBtjey5zpZXWVAqo1c_Xy5hLz3MkkhS7xt_qVpt_8HZhlmX7xMnGpD8uMQ8unX5a3flSlwbx9qSHk2z0eBIUcpMNInqh0PrBG4Urt8uxQOFBpr7_SMJ4NMUdwMh5dE/s1600/Last+Import+-+7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCOSMO4gkOrpZlJgBtjey5zpZXWVAqo1c_Xy5hLz3MkkhS7xt_qVpt_8HZhlmX7xMnGpD8uMQ8unX5a3flSlwbx9qSHk2z0eBIUcpMNInqh0PrBG4Urt8uxQOFBpr7_SMJ4NMUdwMh5dE/s320/Last+Import+-+7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468375387642957042" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1ttEgIyPLXJnnPKbeNtBX-zFduQq7PS4bc2u89lu1Own3jWd-HXGfj7sW4eFZKAu04dDy0sjo8lAIPw1VYPwin-AlJz3frtFyw9IBLrLQVlp9lwfIaFtGGJrphaJejok1BNULB7hQZ0/s1600/Last+Import+-+6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1ttEgIyPLXJnnPKbeNtBX-zFduQq7PS4bc2u89lu1Own3jWd-HXGfj7sW4eFZKAu04dDy0sjo8lAIPw1VYPwin-AlJz3frtFyw9IBLrLQVlp9lwfIaFtGGJrphaJejok1BNULB7hQZ0/s320/Last+Import+-+6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468375385480041250" /></a>I know it's not the same snake that showed up in <a href="http://inthemidstofit.blogspot.com/2010/05/its-skirt-im-pretty-sure.html">our daughter, Sarah's barn yesterday.</a> Hers definitely looks different. This one was two to three feet long, sort of skinny, tried to get away and only tried to strike when it was clear it was in danger. <br /><br />My guesses are: Great Plains rat snake, Texas rat snake or Prairie King snake. Can anyone tell me definitely?Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-68457081506327515092010-05-03T20:40:00.004-04:002010-05-03T20:53:57.686-04:00Just Another Day at the LakeOur day started with this - spied resting in our backyard at 7:30 am. The neighbors told us a mother deer raises her fawn in our back yard every single year. The fawn was SO little. Precious way to start the day. Precious enough that I called out to Don, "Get up, right now, you have to see this!" Luckily he thought it was worth jumping out of bed for.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2saOIo-wLXN2-AUi1aMZYWht7z573GHX8XfBTXUFZ0pkh5EWyitaU5HVH-CuIWue1vncXu0v7QcCn4uWxUjTbNPguHmUHx5qlHjIfkQCe4TSiQOr0-h-nBQtNUzZiI6CqgiO6TzByiLg/s1600/IMG_1744.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2saOIo-wLXN2-AUi1aMZYWht7z573GHX8XfBTXUFZ0pkh5EWyitaU5HVH-CuIWue1vncXu0v7QcCn4uWxUjTbNPguHmUHx5qlHjIfkQCe4TSiQOr0-h-nBQtNUzZiI6CqgiO6TzByiLg/s320/IMG_1744.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467209650058783490" /></a>I hope I didn't scare her off and she'll be back for more early morning visits.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjv4_w7rSG2VokbkdUW-bhwTwQfa3O7zYOjUqG5QK7rPq2ePATO0z0BctZcNjZ7X7TzkdqRKtu2vHO61eglfdxV-_5WUeS2SJFjGscvG1z3ljW3igTApFP7Njw6Ky10thC-aSt-jmMJE/s1600/IMG_1733.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjv4_w7rSG2VokbkdUW-bhwTwQfa3O7zYOjUqG5QK7rPq2ePATO0z0BctZcNjZ7X7TzkdqRKtu2vHO61eglfdxV-_5WUeS2SJFjGscvG1z3ljW3igTApFP7Njw6Ky10thC-aSt-jmMJE/s320/IMG_1733.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467209641621286338" /></a><br />Sarah helped me clean out a front flower bed last week, and we discovered a bush of "Knockout roses' hiding under the crape myrtles. I cook enough grits and black eyed peas and cornbread that the sign fits my kitchen. And putting anything red in this house just makes me happy. It was all pale blues and peach, so red is a step in the right direction in my book.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KWYM72yVRjKCXq4kuPdLr9xRZd6SgWbJaTdbVC-Ir6Rw8sjJFbqt1WsVLk55iGm5cJZ-ohGIkBeVfJmO8GduNyGRl8G3IG002dIIcPqjGGHYVKsxLoN2DJFf_wrSzW899VJmbMJw06I/s1600/IMG_1754.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KWYM72yVRjKCXq4kuPdLr9xRZd6SgWbJaTdbVC-Ir6Rw8sjJFbqt1WsVLk55iGm5cJZ-ohGIkBeVfJmO8GduNyGRl8G3IG002dIIcPqjGGHYVKsxLoN2DJFf_wrSzW899VJmbMJw06I/s320/IMG_1754.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467209656545577586" /></a>Finally an afternoon storm swept up, coming across the lake and sending us scurrying indoors. Impressive to see waves flying up over the seawalls all around us. The martin house Don put together for me will just have to wait til tomorrow, after it dies down a bit. It only took three trips to the hardware store to find the right fittings and poles and such. The old one was in such bad shape it literally fell into pieces when Don tried to lower it. <div><br /></div><div>What you don't see is the four shrubs I dug out of the back and transplanted to the front, newly dug bed, and how nasty dirty I got doing so. Again. We're finding we're going to go through some laundry soap living out here! Working hard makes for very sweet dreams, and healthy appetites :-)</div><div><br /></div><div>I also managed to plant three pots of herbs - cilantro, parsley and sweet basil. Still looking for chives, rosemary and one other I can't remember, but I plopped them all into clay pots buried in the flower bed. That's good enough for this year.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Just another typical day at the lake - the adventure seems to keep rolling on and we're loving it!</div></div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-62987296802688980472010-05-01T08:00:00.001-04:002010-05-01T08:00:01.969-04:00Groovy GrammySarah and Chris got a chance to get away, so I volunteered to come stay with the grandkids. We're into day two, and I'm beginning to find my grammy groove. I didn't read Sarah's notes every hour on the hour today. Maybe I should have because the kids went down for naps two hours late, and never did get an afternoon snack. News flash - if you want kids to eat really well, don't feed them as often. They'll scarf down whatever you put on the table if they're hungry enough! <div><br /></div><div>Yesterday we headed out on a field trip to Target and when Grayson told me 'Target is boring' I put my fingers in my ears and pushed ahead. I haven't been in a Target for over a month so I was pretty thrilled. We did make a stop at Sonic for milkshakes to keep it fair. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today we started off with pancakes and Caiden told me he was so happy because he 'hates oatmeal with a capital H'. Funny that I'd somehow forgotten that when you have three kids they all like and hate different things, so much of dinnertime is spent trading and shuffling. Gray will happily eat all Addie's clam chowder, and she'll scarf down Caiden's string cheese and Caiden will eat just about anything except cheese because he's apparently growing and / or has hollow legs just like Sarah's brother, Dan did when he was that age. I forget what dinnertime was like 20 years ago.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've had fun pulling weeds and praying none of it is poisonous since my arms and legs are covered with poison sumac that I can't identify to save my life. So I'm also spending some time reading my Texas Gardening Guide while the kids ride scooters on the driveway. I've scrubbed the day's grime off their necks and legs and arms and remembered how sweet and tiny they look when they're naked and wet with bubbles stuck to their faces and every single one of their ribs show; we've read Wind in the Willows while I took in the sweet smell of freshly washed kids. We chased chickens (they're not easy to catch!), watered Sarah's garden and fed their dogs. </div><div>I've driven around town, making one wrong turn that resulted in pulling the GPS out of my purse so I could get us back home. All this makes me wonder what our mothers must have thought when we left the kids with them. Did they check them and then check them again right before going to bed, to be sure everyone was still breathing? Did they kiss the tops of their heads one more time, even though they were asleep and would never know? Did they feel every single year of their age? Did they wonder how they ever did it 24/7, 365 days a year?</div><div><br /></div><div>It's D.A.R.K. here at night, and Papa hasn't arrived yet to 'help' us. I use that term loosely since we all know the 'God's honest truth'. Anyway, we've been alone. It would never occur to me to be afraid, being alone. I looked forward to it actually. For the first time in over two months I slept in the middle of the bed, went to sleep when I wanted, and got up early this morning for coffee and devotions while everyone else was still in bed (even if it was threats that kept them there.) I suspect my dear husband is enjoying some time alone too, before he joins us. </div><div><br /></div><div>But last night, when I was making the final rounds, checking and rechecking the doors to be sure everything was locked down tight, one light was still on by the side of the house. I knew it shouldn't be. And I also knew to reach the light switch I'd have to go outside to turn it off. As I opened the door, and began to step outside, there in the bright yellow light sat four of the biggest toads I've ever seen, contentedly eating bugs. I just couldn't step out. No way. I realize toads won't hurt you, don't bite, but they jump unexpectedly and might have touched my feet. And that would have done me in. I guess there's still a kid lurking somewhere inside me too. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's good to remember - what it's like to be a little kid, what it's like to be a mommy day in, day out. </div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-62614313912744819402010-04-29T22:02:00.002-04:002010-04-29T22:14:48.176-04:00Just Exactly Where Did Spring Go?The end of April - can you even believe it? I can't. We pulled into our new driveway on April Fool's Day, and the irony of that is not escaping us. A month ago. We've been here an entire month and it feels like the fastest ever. In our entire lives. <div><br /></div><div>So May - let's have a talk. May flowers. And picnics. And bike rides around the neighborhood. And good books waiting to be read. And new knitting projects (finished the eternal afghan I started two years ago - hurray for Bev!). Next to June, May is my absolute favorite month, so there are great expectations for it.</div><div><br /></div><div>This all has to happen in May because I've heard by June Texas gets so blasted hot I won't even consider being outside for picnics and bike rides and such. So I'm counting on May. </div><div><br /></div><div>But here's the truth - May is actually going to be the month we have the house painted, shutters and faux windows installed, and gutters to deal with the gulley washers Texas gets. And find a way to get the partially torn up wallpaper off the kitchen walls and paint them before we have any official visitors because right now it looks unbearably ratty. And redo all the front flowerbeds that look like the perfect place for a snake or critter to make a little bed. And unpack the craft room, find a place for all the books that somehow made their way into our home - no way did we buy all those books! And we're hoping it's the month we are able to find a good used boat we can afford, and a golf cart for the neighborhood because that's apparently how everyone visits each other. Seriously nobody ever walks in our neighborhood. Ever. I wonder if it's hot here so long that they get out of the habit? Maybe I'll start a new trend and find a new walking partner?</div><div><br /></div><div>And maybe, just maybe May can be a little of both? Of painting the house, then taking a day off for a picnic in some nearby state park? Of spending a day stripping wallpaper, then maybe some time riding our bikes to check out the neighborhood. And unpack all those boxes of books, one case for fiction, one for non-fiction, one for Bev's self-education and crafts, but maybe also grab one or two we've been waiting to read and curling up on the sunporch with it, just watching the sun go down on another beautiful May day in sun-drenched Texas. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dear May - feel free to take it nice and slow. We're not in a hurry. Really. </div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-18932107592582582442010-04-26T23:30:00.000-04:002010-04-27T00:40:33.644-04:00One Room at a Time<div style="text-align: center;">After 14 years of not moving, I'd forgotten how discombobulated everything is for awhile. We've still got a pile in the garage, the 'let's just not look at or talk about that stuff' pile. Since the first rule of organizing any room is to get out anything that doesn't go there, I'm okay with that. We're ending up with stray lamps, pillows, decor, books, etc. that just don't have a home in this house but as soon as I toss them out we'll need them. So the pile remains.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We do, however, have one room pretty well set. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Every past move, Don has helped us get into the house, then gone off to work, busy with whatever new job he had. This one - it's just the two of us, so we're doing it differently. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I let him choose the decor for this room, and am surprised how much I love it!</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5l_DSr-Mf4RKSBQ8TWgCIPoHOAiwesvfdTp1LIJW0KS00nyFMjz1JRLsucWU2NqzTGMcCmiX3bP5rQCh3fKDuzfL9H1l7uKbuJ8dwUHbNtnj48WF4MG2Yh52wVc-uqk2iqPH8Q2S0gQ/s1600/IMG_1706.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5l_DSr-Mf4RKSBQ8TWgCIPoHOAiwesvfdTp1LIJW0KS00nyFMjz1JRLsucWU2NqzTGMcCmiX3bP5rQCh3fKDuzfL9H1l7uKbuJ8dwUHbNtnj48WF4MG2Yh52wVc-uqk2iqPH8Q2S0gQ/s320/IMG_1706.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464429965501781378" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Every man needs a set of longhorns, don'tcha think? They're surprisingly easy to find here in East Texas. Bought at a little place called Harvey's in downtown Corsicana. That room above is our den, and hopefully a year from now there will be a half wall where the rails are, so little kids don't fall through and the back of all the furniture doesn't show. For now we'll just squint when we look up. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIIBdb7rgRD7fm6uRisrLC7nIxog9Y0J_7S4uMmxrL7OTrP3lIZ0190J0lB_48X2W4KTAngGceba_6OoXKi6Ia_Kcza5g2NNVNnpdhOhuERVvfAcEajcjiEla4FZew5IST_hXP7dRRXU/s1600/IMG_1707.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIIBdb7rgRD7fm6uRisrLC7nIxog9Y0J_7S4uMmxrL7OTrP3lIZ0190J0lB_48X2W4KTAngGceba_6OoXKi6Ia_Kcza5g2NNVNnpdhOhuERVvfAcEajcjiEla4FZew5IST_hXP7dRRXU/s320/IMG_1707.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464429969307127010" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Have to have some Texas decor. Absolutely have to. The clock is his retirement gift from his company. Makes a lovely chime that would wake the dead. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoJHq8pdZi-IDialTAsvUpT3Xhfp1CZDGwmXU5_3JsdLcQeIx-iLdcqMZOBJ33zuHHpi3hkzJ0_H6Ci2fG1ofe011btcyTRW_tnN9_KriN5Ztqov16KprA3wYMMKt-eJvP_KkZ9WxbQc0/s1600/IMG_1708.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoJHq8pdZi-IDialTAsvUpT3Xhfp1CZDGwmXU5_3JsdLcQeIx-iLdcqMZOBJ33zuHHpi3hkzJ0_H6Ci2fG1ofe011btcyTRW_tnN9_KriN5Ztqov16KprA3wYMMKt-eJvP_KkZ9WxbQc0/s320/IMG_1708.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464429858097590482" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Cowhide. This wall used to have a honkin' big straw wreath with pale blue and peach flowers. We like this much better. Took almost two hours and a thousand staples to hang. Twenty two feet up in the air, so I held the ladder while Don climbed up. They really use the entire cow down here in Texas, apparently.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8gZTVqBMTxOygtxHmKZBl_4M6_zs6hDn1p8jKoAAz6BNGf2N8cM4Ztqm16HJSDeKLDdTwFrwr4h0kTPOZTfoW8tKs7i3Oo5BHGAMASk4ptL7dPY8HEcRUNnspfkRncA5sD5estg8_yg/s1600/IMG_1709.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8gZTVqBMTxOygtxHmKZBl_4M6_zs6hDn1p8jKoAAz6BNGf2N8cM4Ztqm16HJSDeKLDdTwFrwr4h0kTPOZTfoW8tKs7i3Oo5BHGAMASk4ptL7dPY8HEcRUNnspfkRncA5sD5estg8_yg/s320/IMG_1709.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464429856261620386" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">But we like it. I'm on the lookout for an old branding iron and a bit of fencepost with barbed wire. Really. If I could find a board that said 'Longbranch Saloon' I'd be over the top happy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmPEZiNLWu5GSipIktFqZ88a3lrI56Yn_9ABY-W2z4tiW3jej8o2A0vUWmAWi_y9owg_wZ1XL9k0zkYktU5Phq2LXYUjRg3TMiYDyB_Yze0cjU-HydoQsofOe1iImle8vuOn5LUhuiKiU/s1600/IMG_1711.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmPEZiNLWu5GSipIktFqZ88a3lrI56Yn_9ABY-W2z4tiW3jej8o2A0vUWmAWi_y9owg_wZ1XL9k0zkYktU5Phq2LXYUjRg3TMiYDyB_Yze0cjU-HydoQsofOe1iImle8vuOn5LUhuiKiU/s320/IMG_1711.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464429845907545138" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Using the furniture from our very formal living room in PA. Same but different. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Ghkqmi9N2j1IKy-yt2NVdukYsJ8zNTtd4TIfIF550oXqt8KilxGTgvqYpXRMqqOvz7CBi-6pEdChJf9AR1FIqlQavNXg-76o4rP1dGHZrvtA6wV5W8I1WkbdlHUOmAA3fFZmOQlG_uQ/s1600/IMG_1713.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Ghkqmi9N2j1IKy-yt2NVdukYsJ8zNTtd4TIfIF550oXqt8KilxGTgvqYpXRMqqOvz7CBi-6pEdChJf9AR1FIqlQavNXg-76o4rP1dGHZrvtA6wV5W8I1WkbdlHUOmAA3fFZmOQlG_uQ/s320/IMG_1713.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464429840797958562" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Those double doors off to the side go into my craft room that looks like a bomb went off. So we'll just keep them shut til further notice. Much further. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDemxmIJfvorrr52Nf5tgTZMZbg_rPLCJS1MlVUK35IRACodNVQ8NW5ZHyMVQiMzB3aiVN3ljF4z62vjip0K3OPhZv_ROPfcYK2qebuC3XCQmYg8UGNKwg3DcsVLL_Zgf9kKIJBvREpWU/s1600/IMG_1715.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDemxmIJfvorrr52Nf5tgTZMZbg_rPLCJS1MlVUK35IRACodNVQ8NW5ZHyMVQiMzB3aiVN3ljF4z62vjip0K3OPhZv_ROPfcYK2qebuC3XCQmYg8UGNKwg3DcsVLL_Zgf9kKIJBvREpWU/s320/IMG_1715.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464429836496223298" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Plans next year are for carpet and dark tile but for now this works very well. And you can't beat the view. Nothing but green grass and lake.</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">When I feel the 'I'm going crazing from moving' syndrome welling up inside me, I just go sit here for a little while, look out the window and take deep breaths.</div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-61517517704806089662010-04-25T19:12:00.009-04:002010-04-25T19:31:11.995-04:00Was Easter Really 3 weeks ago?Oh my, we're so off schedule I didn't realize it'd been that long.<br /><br />That's okay - the photos are too cute to miss posting them. We almost pulled off having all 13 of us together at one time, but not quite. We did, however, get all five grandkids together for an Easter egg hunt at Uncle Pace and Aunt Poppy's place.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRHIDU88DpmUDXsNdON3YhI11csKfCxQx_Ov-fQEmi4SFyU7H5ulG-0cXTkkbkE-eX7eAsVOx0QRTW37OJd9gRIfIWBYyVU2Onbz6b9BrYkTea3rOx0HrtGZyJf1NtPZZMmvzY3F9pFE/s1600/IMG_1486.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRHIDU88DpmUDXsNdON3YhI11csKfCxQx_Ov-fQEmi4SFyU7H5ulG-0cXTkkbkE-eX7eAsVOx0QRTW37OJd9gRIfIWBYyVU2Onbz6b9BrYkTea3rOx0HrtGZyJf1NtPZZMmvzY3F9pFE/s320/IMG_1486.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464217365737718962" /></a>Landon and Miss Addie were friends at this moment, but a few seconds later she was ready to smack the fire out of him for doing something boyish, and he was running for his life. Addie is three months older than Landon, she weighs somewhere around 25 lbs and he weighs around 45. Someday she won't even think of tearing out after him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWTUGNJIh3Bl9OlOpNPNVYGd7X7RZU3DYgVdwuaELLn3OxqC4E8lTYqkCesrUrFfbZmFB72ngcc6ZltVpFbz_xFEAhAwOO5ADAtHErARl_Bj6mnkmf4HsteMMLhqlZkgJm_LvKH86BQ8/s1600/IMG_1500.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWTUGNJIh3Bl9OlOpNPNVYGd7X7RZU3DYgVdwuaELLn3OxqC4E8lTYqkCesrUrFfbZmFB72ngcc6ZltVpFbz_xFEAhAwOO5ADAtHErARl_Bj6mnkmf4HsteMMLhqlZkgJm_LvKH86BQ8/s320/IMG_1500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464217378041202898" /></a>Our newest family member, Miss Jae Beth. She's not quite old enough for egg hunts, maybe next year. I think Dan and Janae gave her an Easter basket anyway. Look at those thighs - impressive, aren't they?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigW2aqV0pIN2AbZgsJmPj1lDenDIWogSGp1tC742H52BZKO_WlRlJk9g7zaXuUfRHhBKqjOBdbMpQnetN2J-x6jZdE2KqB_hOo_8Pfq84yD3wJIsSZqv_WDqMM2GyxH5ol64iwe4JrvkY/s1600/IMG_1497.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigW2aqV0pIN2AbZgsJmPj1lDenDIWogSGp1tC742H52BZKO_WlRlJk9g7zaXuUfRHhBKqjOBdbMpQnetN2J-x6jZdE2KqB_hOo_8Pfq84yD3wJIsSZqv_WDqMM2GyxH5ol64iwe4JrvkY/s320/IMG_1497.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464217377017033890" /></a>The perfect place for an egg hunt - the side pasture. Just have to watch for snakes in the stick piles. (Leslie, I hereby officially apologize for posting you with your hair looking so fabulous.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0JMHntvefxt8-IP3GcLqTI7UnEIxuz3_vvzZe1eygCyP2SAzi5V3YRm2aYpHy7tDjRjaKCoHt7dydXYz0vbQT7H0ygXnosHF4Pz87hYbPojLORJc9URGsTTeajSshaSd_gHd3yGPKaXY/s1600/IMG_1494.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0JMHntvefxt8-IP3GcLqTI7UnEIxuz3_vvzZe1eygCyP2SAzi5V3YRm2aYpHy7tDjRjaKCoHt7dydXYz0vbQT7H0ygXnosHF4Pz87hYbPojLORJc9URGsTTeajSshaSd_gHd3yGPKaXY/s320/IMG_1494.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464217371941713218" /></a>Uncle D hoisting Landon and Grayson; they must think he's so big. Oh yeah, he IS big.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYL9_EYtENYBO_ledunLLMDIwraPd9B4eAnzTB70qaunVA4ArJdMFj3-x2HR-Bzj0DjNq8usGql0t5UhtYxtLABQ54bfBQXF7sD85UtMo06sDdiq-GFpcPZe_CCv4bNXwvCKcWIjpLcIk/s1600/IMG_1506.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYL9_EYtENYBO_ledunLLMDIwraPd9B4eAnzTB70qaunVA4ArJdMFj3-x2HR-Bzj0DjNq8usGql0t5UhtYxtLABQ54bfBQXF7sD85UtMo06sDdiq-GFpcPZe_CCv4bNXwvCKcWIjpLcIk/s320/IMG_1506.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464217384968117106" /></a>End of day - happy but dirty kids, all stuck in the tub together while Aunt Nessie supervises. The water was N.A.S.T.Y.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjEd8o-OAdX8uYGTC9ILsAW0J__kIhLxeME8KMM48dtuT-1Kkito-kesMevGKThYs9q9y7BEa80luMQzb9Rhs82UklaTMML4lttxTO5oBZX5ML_-8DTcQmRDfKy4c_QmIiGvfpXi_vFs/s1600/IMG_1507.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjEd8o-OAdX8uYGTC9ILsAW0J__kIhLxeME8KMM48dtuT-1Kkito-kesMevGKThYs9q9y7BEa80luMQzb9Rhs82UklaTMML4lttxTO5oBZX5ML_-8DTcQmRDfKy4c_QmIiGvfpXi_vFs/s320/IMG_1507.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464217449283280434" /></a>Perfect end to the day - Uncle Pace gave the bathers glow sticks - super cool!<div><br /></div><div>So we're just not a well-oiled machine lately; next I'll post the fabulous photos from our trip to Fossil Rim the day after Easter (3 weeks tomorrow). Great close ups of giraffe tongues, etc. </div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-18541268204789611562010-04-23T07:30:00.000-04:002010-04-23T08:29:51.535-04:00Hasn't Looked Back<style="text-align:>As soon as this rolled off the truck, he grabbed those safety glasses of his and climbed right on. I would have had no idea how to even start the thing, but he fired it right up and took off. 'Tried it out' for about two hours...<div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRuVvN1fmpRB2n6vv-L_rT7corX42Ab8mHR53su9Vu9B8mbRqPUlga5OGr6RuTPBmvT6yXZmmAQ4dUikIr9amLNb8ZozYG7ynSAIs6kK-94Qwy0R8CahtO4EHT0UlsS-r84siStRkq470/s1600/IMG_1690.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRuVvN1fmpRB2n6vv-L_rT7corX42Ab8mHR53su9Vu9B8mbRqPUlga5OGr6RuTPBmvT6yXZmmAQ4dUikIr9amLNb8ZozYG7ynSAIs6kK-94Qwy0R8CahtO4EHT0UlsS-r84siStRkq470/s320/IMG_1690.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462572178585606978" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">He said he's having fun, and never thinks about work. Doesn't miss it O.N.E.B.I.T.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw3Ep6xi8v9waX_O33HKv0jeN2wOUWJyqq4m-sBcEpHdihULyzAbBTmWVs1cG9gHC2T0ZXHNktHOQHGoP4pxPz-JBdv72vNsqw9e5i3DVc1BAW8i97hzjmEYsLZmvE1PDXaM-eXToDwN0/s1600/IMG_1689.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw3Ep6xi8v9waX_O33HKv0jeN2wOUWJyqq4m-sBcEpHdihULyzAbBTmWVs1cG9gHC2T0ZXHNktHOQHGoP4pxPz-JBdv72vNsqw9e5i3DVc1BAW8i97hzjmEYsLZmvE1PDXaM-eXToDwN0/s320/IMG_1689.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462572183424731506" /></a>As hard as he's working, digging up trees, putting in flower beds, it's probably good we got him a new toy. I like the look of this a whole lot more than him driving off in a car every morning.</div></div></div></style="text-align:>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-44673078341545301272010-04-20T23:27:00.003-04:002010-04-20T23:31:57.231-04:00Frying up our First Lake FishThe men went fishing - a little retirement gift from me, they hired a professional guide who spent four hours with them, showing them the ins and outs of the lake.<br /><br />Results: caught 140 fish in four hours.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPTVRwRnKZ0h4haWVhH8WYRGq-S8ydGmQc3MGq1EH7JfS74D8assXolowwzbce_IZnSDtIomdiNUStQXyp0NBG0dEBftbiylrPP0M29E3AQvzKBaWPwy-Nz9xQzFWuckxJUjHEptcEc4/s1600/P1040746.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPTVRwRnKZ0h4haWVhH8WYRGq-S8ydGmQc3MGq1EH7JfS74D8assXolowwzbce_IZnSDtIomdiNUStQXyp0NBG0dEBftbiylrPP0M29E3AQvzKBaWPwy-Nz9xQzFWuckxJUjHEptcEc4/s320/P1040746.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462427546024334466" /></a>Don and Dan, an entire morning of fishing together. It doesn't seem that long ago Don stayed busy untangling line and clearing up snags.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHR0RXpeiNRJFjMWv8GRkakyPKGL7Fx87xtTmEBlmvkMwfd6y_qMt-lknHwYYvmg33aGb4VjA68DPPCmwuQaY9APJhrT8zgc4iCZrCpJ-9BtF71QfeFG7JCA5-V1I3xt99oA6Xfm4aF4/s1600/P1040744.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHR0RXpeiNRJFjMWv8GRkakyPKGL7Fx87xtTmEBlmvkMwfd6y_qMt-lknHwYYvmg33aGb4VjA68DPPCmwuQaY9APJhrT8zgc4iCZrCpJ-9BtF71QfeFG7JCA5-V1I3xt99oA6Xfm4aF4/s320/P1040744.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462427536206218322" /></a>A nice sized hybrid - he said they were a lot of fun to catch.<br /><br />Final results: kept 30 - threw the rest back in. Fried up some tonight for supper - happy men and yummy dinner!Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-49102032683127332492010-04-19T09:00:00.000-04:002010-04-19T10:59:15.720-04:00Resolving Not to CussWhen we arrived in Texas we were greeted by a U-haul in the driveway and four people in our house. Within a day there were two more, not including us. A total of 7. One doesn't count because she's a baby and wears diapers, so she doesn't affect the plumbing one way or another. That's about 5 more than usual, and 7 more than in awhile. Plumbing works fine when nobody's flushing. Or washing dishes. Or clothes. Or showering. If we'd all been wearing diapers, like baby Jae, we wouldn't have had a problem.<br /><br />We'd had a plumbing clog months ago, on step one of the move that took forever, and Mr. Plumber came out with his rotor-rooter thing and fixed us up. Gave us some tips on how to prevent problems and drove back to Dallas. When we'd only been in the house a few days this time, and the downstairs shower floor had a lovely coating of pooh that had exploded onto it (you're welcome for the lovely mental picture), we realized 'Houston, we have a problem.' I personally thought I had more problem than everyone else since cleaning the shower floor was my job. I think you have to be a mother, and have about 5,000 diapers under your belt to hold up to a job like that.<br /><br />I phoned the home warranty people. The woman who took my call had a lovely voice and started out our conversation by asking, 'how are you this morning?' Everything in me wanted to say, 'well, actually pretty SH....Y' but unfortunately I'd made the stupid resolution back on January 1 not to cuss this year. That verse, 'Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths...' (Eph. 4:29) had been digging at me, and the nasty little habit I'd developed of not watching my language like I should.<br /><br />I thought it but I didn't say it. I said, 'great, how are you?' I did wonder why she asked, since anyone calling the home warranty is NOT a happy camper and has a problem that is likely making them want to cuss and gnash teeth and such.<br /><br />So they sent the plumber again - it only took THREE days - three days when we couldn't use our bathroom facilities, and we're out in the country, and don't know the neighbors well enough to ask to use the phone, let alone the potty. So after well-timed visits to Denny's and CVS and the grocery store, Mr. Plumber came out and rotor-rooted out the mess, I scrubbed the shower floor and burned my clothes (just kidding) and we thought we were good.<br /><br />Two days later there was another lovely film on the shower floor. We got out the yellow pages, called a septic system person of random choosing, who gave us a quick lesson in how a septic system works, or doesn't. They told us to call the pooper pumper people. Within hours the pumper pulled up our driveway (don't you know the neighbors were standing inside their houses peering out of their mostly closed blinds, watching us and praying we didn't come knocking on their doors.) He proceeded to poke around our yard with a metal thing, dug up our yard, found the cleanout, and we all stood there looking down at gallons and gallons of grey horribleness. After he'd pumped (literally) 1000 gallons out, he shoved his BARE hand down our horribly nasty tank and found a plastic elbow broken off, telling us we did indeed have a problem. Mr. Pooper Pumper finished his job, my husband paid him and then he stuck out his hand toward my husband, to thank him for the business. I watched in pride and horror as my husband shook that man's hand, then the minute he drove off I suggested he either cut it off at the wrist or go into the shop and scrub it 1 or 99 times with something that burned, to be sure he'd killed the majority of the germs that were surely on him. I'm pretty sure God made Lava Soap for moments like this.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyyiRRW2h-4rLVeePKmdAVmUEuhYjfI2cuoUgQDXIXY1wD34twR6l-dO4kkfLMlb1hvL1KBg7JuTfpEjZF4Wa45tcgoU9BcRgFWVs7woBLlfacVWIaNqUXBDJfb8rS_0uDfWXQJmV7Ws/s1600/IMG_1652.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyyiRRW2h-4rLVeePKmdAVmUEuhYjfI2cuoUgQDXIXY1wD34twR6l-dO4kkfLMlb1hvL1KBg7JuTfpEjZF4Wa45tcgoU9BcRgFWVs7woBLlfacVWIaNqUXBDJfb8rS_0uDfWXQJmV7Ws/s320/IMG_1652.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461862442220785858" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: center;">This is our lovely septic field and our friend Lester tearing out the redbud that caused all the problems. Septic systems do not love tree roots living overhead.</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>So we called our new friend, Lester, who we'd hired to pour some concrete. He can also tear things up and out. He came over with a big piece of equipment and ripped out what used to be a lovely redbud, planted right over our septic tank. In pulling out the tree we found two more cleanouts and another vital part had broken off and our raw sewage was seeping through the dirt under the surface, trickling into the tank, rather than flowing as it should.<br /><br />The next day my dear hubby (who may be ready to go back to work rather than have all this fun retirement is offering him) proceeded to dig up what used to be a lovely 15 x 10 flowerbed. About halfway through, with sweat dripping off his nose, our son-in-law, Jeremy, who now deserves to have a statue erected in his honor, grabbed an axe and a shovel and began to dig. When they found the final, biggest of all, problem, a broken off white plastic pipe that was wobbling like it shouldn't, Jeremy pulled it out of the ground and what it was covered with was not for the faint of heart. As I stood there watching from a safe distance, (I gave birth three times - no way do I have to help with this job) Bless His Heart Jeremy laid down on that ground, pulled on my yellow plastic cleaning gloves and proceeded to muck it out and put it back together temporarily.<br /><br />We've now spent almost $1000 to put our septic system back together. It's pumped, repaired, and running well. The repairmen assure us it's working well now. Still, after cleaning out that shower floor THREE times, we've come up with a system for using our facilities that we lovingly call 'The Texas Two-Step'. Do your business. Flush. Apply paper. Flush. Just get over the fact that anyone in the house, hearing the toilet flush twice, will know exactly what you've been up to. Much better than having one of us out in the yard digging up the evidence.<br /><br />So right now I'm much more appreciative of our plumbing. I'm feeling thankful for plumbing that runs well, thankful for clean shower floors, thankful that somebody decided when they grew up they'd be a septic cleaning person, and thankful I only made the resolution not to SAY cuss words. If I'd resolved not to think them, I'd be in deep pooh myself.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZhaTpDl37sBryrKkdR-ugOpwYHiD_ZInl3SsNoIvmQcvPjI6_Wf-avXpLBpod4wXdTI6kXnXnF6TRyYxZhPQbfjMR4ywkMYNZ3ihzRyFrumiIQVubLocr794UY3mRmJEFwUTry3s4ic/s1600/IMG_1651.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZhaTpDl37sBryrKkdR-ugOpwYHiD_ZInl3SsNoIvmQcvPjI6_Wf-avXpLBpod4wXdTI6kXnXnF6TRyYxZhPQbfjMR4ywkMYNZ3ihzRyFrumiIQVubLocr794UY3mRmJEFwUTry3s4ic/s320/IMG_1651.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461862436211938674" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: center;">We now have a nice bare area to plant with grass. Only grass. Grass roots make septic systems happy. We plan to put a glider right over it, so we can sit at night, over our septic tank, and enjoy the sunset. Classy, huh?</div></span><br />Life at the lake the past couple of weeks has been crazy. Lovely, peaceful at times, insane at times, exhausting, refreshing, and not a single moment has been dull. We had a driveway - very large driveway - poured last week. At one moment we had 13 men in our front yard and none of them were related to us. The driveway looks wonderful, but we were without phone or internet for four or five days because previously mentioned Lester accidentally cut the main phone line to our house, just a few days after the lovely pooh incident.<br /><br />Right now we have a big black cable laying across the lawn. As long as no varmit chews it into in the middle of the night during the next week or so til they come out to do a more permanent repair, I'll be back in a few days with photos of our currently crazy life.Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-21590028054572327272010-04-13T08:20:00.005-04:002010-04-13T08:30:55.572-04:00For the Family - Papa's New Wheels!We've been up to our elbows in septic systems (eewwwww!) and are about to tear out the front yard, but for now I wanted the kids to see Papa's new wheels.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyv2m3S9ZbhyOeMa_6v_A-PUFoHPNZEq5hFceJJcrSZS-y99z1Tu5ivXedggR2ssJ1X8JSwz7CmpCmzohxjFidtjZAgQljN-soA0LBDr1tmQjRrYN1euK9846P1h8Hj9Ql4WdkW4SQEg/s1600/IMG_1653.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyv2m3S9ZbhyOeMa_6v_A-PUFoHPNZEq5hFceJJcrSZS-y99z1Tu5ivXedggR2ssJ1X8JSwz7CmpCmzohxjFidtjZAgQljN-soA0LBDr1tmQjRrYN1euK9846P1h8Hj9Ql4WdkW4SQEg/s320/IMG_1653.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459596865289152690" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYvqXhL1GpsZzrfGFzvFcjydWXCTdB0SYPA0wQRx6JbJnHKdyrT-WRu_LBTK-nF5a9T0WAPdnsPJab8mvmb_SEh7YM0MZnbDZQwKeFPUzzXzxvelO8gjd6a4A7I5u2KtA-LIS3qFY2T0/s1600/IMG_1656.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYvqXhL1GpsZzrfGFzvFcjydWXCTdB0SYPA0wQRx6JbJnHKdyrT-WRu_LBTK-nF5a9T0WAPdnsPJab8mvmb_SEh7YM0MZnbDZQwKeFPUzzXzxvelO8gjd6a4A7I5u2KtA-LIS3qFY2T0/s320/IMG_1656.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459596877217282946" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXV9ONDjWD2lwpHhFKKgabbmrl-SnOMaJ-cbJBn_iaYzkkPQZZzXcxDbk3-BGdo63VTnlYvvSFafsBQxJd9FKRG6mjHKlNIzK4Z1mFkRqW-wpNHNxrk7-Dc9z6q90Bt2KmUiNfzOwpCzo/s1600/IMG_1655.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXV9ONDjWD2lwpHhFKKgabbmrl-SnOMaJ-cbJBn_iaYzkkPQZZzXcxDbk3-BGdo63VTnlYvvSFafsBQxJd9FKRG6mjHKlNIzK4Z1mFkRqW-wpNHNxrk7-Dc9z6q90Bt2KmUiNfzOwpCzo/s320/IMG_1655.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459596871504834098" /></a><br />At 59, this is his first 'new' truck. When I texted the men in the family, they wanted the scoop - so here it is:<br /><br />2005 GMC, 1/2 ton, 2 wheel, big enough engine to pull a boat up a 45 degree boat ramp, heated leather seats, Bose sound system for his George Strait CD, captain seats for the first two fishermen, with an extended cab for the rest, sprayed in bed liner, some kind of lid on the bed that locks so you can put your fishing rods in there while you go to Waffle House, new set of tires. White so it doesn't show the Texas dust so much. One owner truck. He said it's exactly what he was looking for and I was tickled pink to follow him home, watching him drive that truck down that two lane road. One happy man!<br /><br />We were happy to buy local, from two salesmen named Ennod and Jamison. Loving Texas more by the day.Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-6341004219563412632010-04-10T08:54:00.007-04:002010-04-10T09:22:25.692-04:00Over the Meadow and Through the WoodsPulling out of the driveway, the car loaded for bear, felt surreal. After planning for this move long enough to throw in a Leap Year, it was finally happening. It's hard to describe how leaving behind a chunk of your life feels. Good, bad, happy, sad, memories that come flooding in. But life is made up of constant motion - the ebb and flow of days and weeks and years - the people that come in and go out of your life. We wanted a big adventure and it was finally time to begin. So no tears, no looking back, just drive.<div><br /></div><div>Our daughter phoned right after we hit the road to tell us the grandkids were following us on a US map and would we please give reports throughout the day. <div><br /></div><div>PA - done. West Virginia was a blip and then we hit Ohio. Columbus, Cincinnati and we meandered our way into Kentucky. Is there anything as lovely as Kentucky in the spring? Acres and acres bordered with white fencing and newborn colts playing tag with each other, pausing from their play for a moment to nuzzle their mothers' undersides for a sip of milk. We met our <strike>driver</strike> son-in-law in Bowling Green for dinner. He'd agreed to drive the Uhaul for us, all 1300 miles bless his heart. By himself, nobody to give him a relief from the driving. After filling him up with warm bread and a large steak, he climbed back in the truck. He'd keep going - we turned in for the night. He's 30 years younger than we are; those days of driving after the body begs to stop are behind us. </div><div><br /></div><div>We sipped morning coffee while crossing Nashville and then drove through Memphis. All signs in Memphis seemed to hint that Elvis had NOT left the building but was still very much present. Then into Arkansas. Driving into Arkansas has a unique feel to it - the terrain changes quickly, and so does the pace. Crossing Arkansas takes a chunk of a day, but it's a pleasant chunk, and I thought of <a href="http://lenadianejennings.blogspot.com/">my friend, Diane - </a>her love for gardening and camping - as we drove across. A beautiful state with miles and miles of woods coming up to greet you on each side of the car as you drive along. I can imagine camping in Arkansas. Or gardening. That red soil is bound to be good for growing tomatoes and such.</div><div><br /></div><div>Every single state we entered greeted us with a billboard - 'Welcome to....' except Texas. After waiting almost four years to move there, and finally, finally hitting the border, the 'Welcome to Texas' sign had been taken down while they were busy putting up a highway. Seeing the lone star symbols embedded in the side of the retaining walls of the underpasses, we still took a moment to high five each other - 'we did it! We're finally here!' </div><div><br /></div><div>Having reached at least the right state of our destination, we found a hotel and were under the covers as fast as possible in Texarkana, Texas. The next morning we ate breakfast in the hotel lobby, listening to a broad-shouldered man who already had his cowboy hat on, talking about the ins and outs of breeding cattle. The size of the buckle on the belt holding up his well-worn jeans told me he knew what he was talking about. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pulling into the driveway of our home, that has been sitting semi-vacant for the past 1 1/2 years, looking through the carport and seeing nothing but blue lake, indescribable. My home state, my favorite state, the beginning of a brand new life that we're hoping will be bursting at the seams with family and good times and friends and memory making - indescribable. Seeing our son and a daughter and son-in-law and one sweet three year old grandson running through the yard - truly indescribable. This will be home. The beginning of carving out a new life that will be whatever we make of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>We're not in Texas, we are officially Texans!</div></div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-16827546770888915352010-04-08T20:30:00.003-04:002010-04-08T20:32:43.862-04:00Good Night Nurse - Moving is a Whipping!So we're here - after leaving Pennsylvania 9 days ago, we've added 1900 - yep, NINETEEN HUNDRED miles to our car. <div><br /></div><div>And you won't even believe what all has been going on - just as soon as I find my brain I'll tell you all about it. I seriously could use a venting session on 'why moving is ALWAYS a whipping'.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am thanking the Good Lord that we have internet, however. This fifteen year old house just entered the 21st century!</div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-54127672000390241172010-03-27T11:29:00.006-04:002010-03-27T11:52:14.337-04:00You Could Get All Blubbery Over Laundry if You Let Yourself14 years ago, two days after Christmas when we were poor as church mice because we'd tried to put together an extra nice Christmas for my MIL who was very recently widowed, our dryer died. Completely. With three kids living at home, a dryer wasn't a luxury and we couldn't go more than a few days without having one available. I still remember calling the appliance guy, even recall the name of the company. He came out and told me it was dead. Done. No hope. Not worth fixing. <div><br /></div><div>So we bought a brand new Maytag for right at $500 we did not have. Paid cash we did not have. Because who has $500 you didn't plan on the day after Christmas when you have three kids at home. I remember writing the check and thinking it'd be a real challenge to figure out how to come up with the money to cover it next payday. Rob Peter to pay Paul sort of thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>We still have that dryer and it still runs great, and I'm not holding a grudge against it for needing a couple of CPR sessions. It's still a champion at drying a load of blue jeans in 45 minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div>The washer was bought when our son was still living at home, and still bringing home those white nylon football practice pants that refused to let go of that green smear on the knees. Sweaty nasty things that I'd try not to touch as I tossed them in, but I had to use a bar of my MIL's homemade bar soap to get out those stupid stains. He had to have the pants ready for the next day, and for some reason I thought they needed to be pristine white every single day so he could destroy them again, and bring them back to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>So we're finally, finally making the move that is possibly going to go down in the Guinness Book for taking the longest time to finish. The house we're moving to came furnished. Some of the stuff is great, some is awful and some is in between. Some we sold, some we gave away and some we kept. The washer and dryer at our lakehouse aren't anything to write home about - they aren't the super cool front loaders, with the neat box on the bottom to hold powder and such. They aren't in fun red or blue or anything - they're white. And I actually despise the buzzer on the dryer that we can't seem to disable, so that it sounds like a fog horn going off to tell me the towels are nice and fluffy. It's a bit like someone with a horribly screechy voice yelling at you to tell you dinner is ready. Good news delivered badly. But they work, at least as well as what we have here, if not better because they've had even less use than ours. So we may as well go with them and not take our PA ones with us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our last kid moved out 7 years ago, and since then we've done two loads of laundry a week. Except the weeks when I tried to be a Martha Stewart and did the sheets, and don't ask me how often that wasn't. It's my least favorite chore, even after cleaning bathrooms. I've said before if I was wealthy I'd have someone change the sheets daily and fix my hair every single morning. But I'm not, and it shows in how seldom the sheets get changed. (And possibly in how my hair looks...) I remember the days when I did two loads a day and still couldn't keep up. How times change. </div><div><br /></div><div>As we laid in bed last night, talking the talk that comes right before you drift off, it was to the sound of jeans bouncing around in the dryer. The very last load in the dryer that our kids' clothes were in. And dippy as it may be, it felt like a right of passage. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not that I was overly sad about it, just recognized that it'll never pass this way again, those days of knees stained with freshly mowed grass, or cheerleader uniforms that have impossibly small waists, or countless socks that can't find their pair for anything. No more loads and loads of towels because a teenager decided they need a fresh one for several different areas of their body, all after the same shower. </div><div><br /></div><div>We're giving away our washer and dryer today - the washer to a girl who was in my small group years and years ago. She went to prom with my son when his ankle was broken and there was no hope of dancing - what a girl! She's now married and expecting her first child, and their used washer is giving up the ghost. The dryer is going to a couple in our church who have three young boys - and she said she has to dry everything three times to get them done. Great places to pass them on to! It tickles me to know kid jeans and too many towels will go through them for a few more years. Baby clothes will be washed in that washer - how fabulous is that?</div><div><br /></div><div>And our washer and dryer down south? They'll have swimsuits from our grandkids playing in the lake, or my husband's nasty fishing clothes, or his sweaty t-shirt from mowing the grass in the Texas heat, or my jeans, with mud on the knees from planting and weeding my garden. Or baby burp cloths from our newest family member, or sheets and sheets and sheets and towels and towels and towels from having all our family come to play with us. I do believe I'll feel differently about washing those sheets. </div><div><br /></div><div>Great stuff to think on happy times ahead. That's what we're about right now. </div><div><br /></div><div>We're pulling the plug on our internet in just a day or so and won't be connected to the world for about two weeks. I'll be back soon to share how feathering our nest is going. And in the meantime, hope you all celebrate the best holiday of all - Easter, Resurrected Life and fresh starts.</div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-66716935390193592142010-03-25T21:54:00.008-04:002010-03-25T22:11:52.431-04:00Bluebirds and Walks and Lucky and such...Things I'm thinking about:<div><br /></div><div>My old library (average of 3 visits a week) has 138,886 volumes.</div><div>My new library (30 minutes away) has 63,375. </div><div><br /></div><div>Book nerds check out things like this. The new library doesn't have the relatively new fiction book I'm reading. That tells me I may be reading more classics and less NY Times Bestseller list, not necessarily a bad thing. Possibly we need a hammock somewhere on the property to curl up with those books we're going to read. Or maybe in the sunporch with the ceiling fan.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sonic is 10 minutes away here, 30 minutes away there. Being newly retired, we now have more time to go to Sonic, and more time to work it off on the ellyptical - a good trade off I think. </div><div><br /></div><div>The only place I've seen bluebirds in PA is on our walking trail or in the state parks. Bluebirds like open fields and our home had woods behind it. Good for cardinals, goldfinches, woodpeckers and many other birds, but not Eastern bluebirds. There is a family that seems to make a habit of building their nest in a box mounted on the previous owner's volleyball pole. I'm not sure there's a better way to start the day than sipping a cup of coffee on the deck, watching bluebirds feed their little ones. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love that we already call our new home 'the lakehouse'. We want it to be the place the entire family comes to get away from it all. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm excited that we'll get to know life on the lake, be able to tell what the incoming weather is going to be from the look of it. We'll hear fish jumping in the early morning and evenings as the sun is setting.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm going to love the sound of Don saying, 'I think I'll just throw out my line a few times' and I can tell him, 'that's fine, I'll call you when supper is ready.' And he'll be 100 yards from our back door. And I can watch him fishing from our kitchen window.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our neighborhood is relatively flat and the road makes a big winding circle, perfect for bike rides or early morning walks. Probably a good way to meet the neighbors. </div><div><br /></div><div>Spring is the perfect time to move into a place, to check out what's coming up in the beds. Discover the gifts of perennials the previous owners left for us. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are fried catfish feeds every single Friday night within ten minutes of any direction we turn. One is at the local gas station turned mini restaurant - I love that. We plan to take all our family members to eat at the gas station. Hope they love that. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll be planting a garden, for the first time in twenty years, sometime in April. I've already bought the labels for the salsa I'm going to make from the tomatoes I'm going to grow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Our bed is already made, the coffee pot is already in place with our favorite mugs in the cupboard, waiting for us. Thank you, God, that we already did the big move last summer so this time won't be nearly so overwhelming. Or hot. And we're related to the one driving the van this time, so I know when he says he'll be there Wednesday night he'll be there Wednesday night. I'll feed him a steak for being on time, and hug his neck too.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's going to be nice to have it feel a teensy bit like home when we walk in the door. Most of our family will be there, waiting for us, when we pull up. The rest will be two hours away, waiting for us to show up to celebrate Easter together. The first time in three years that we'll all be together, and there's a new baby to celebrate this year too!</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm thinking I may just need a cat. Or two. Possibly an older, male cat that nobody wants and I'll name him Lucky. Maybe he'll eat the lizards for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>How am I gonna talk Don into building a tree house for those grandkids? Grandpas never want them because they're questionable when it comes to safety, but every little boy wants a treehouse to play in. And we need a tire swing too, I'm pretty sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>I can't wait to hang the sign I just bought for the boathouse "Swimsuits optional beyond this point." It should scare the neighbors a bit and make our kids wonder about us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Looking ahead and dwelling on happy thoughts of what's waiting down south. </div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-6160179654857188482010-03-24T19:48:00.006-04:002010-03-24T20:01:47.839-04:00We're Down to Six DaysSo we move in 6 days. After 1 1/2 years of preparation and really it's something more like 3 years, we're down to 6 days. The condo is a bit of a mess with boxes everywhere, and most of the charm has been packed away. <div><br /></div><div>We took down the little bed our grandson slept in when he'd stay with us. And I didn't cry. We took it over to his other grandmother's so he can enjoy sleeping in a familiar bed there. Our church called us down front, gathered around us and prayed for us a week ago, and we cried a bit over that. I went away for a weekend with my five best friends, and mostly we laughed. Only a few tears. </div><div><br /></div><div>But inside I'm a bundle of emotions - not wanting to turn loose of our family here, excited to be heading out to the life waiting for us in Texas, to being with family there. The smallest thoughts turn me into an emotional puddle, and I'm mostly holding it all in check. </div><div><br /></div><div>And that's exhausting. We're plenty busy with moving preparations, but it leaves little time for blogging, or surfing the web, or putzing or even reading a book, except that the last book from our library is due the day we leave, so I'm feverishly reading every night trying to get it done. </div><div><br /></div><div>Moving is over-rated. Leaving family behind is over-rated. The blessing of being with kids you've lived away from for 7 or 11 or more years can't be measure. And finally being with grandkids you haven't spent any time with - the same. </div><div><br /></div><div>It still doesn't make it easy. I'm finding myself thinking about those days when we'd climb in the family car, drive to college, and drop off one of our kids. I'd literally cling to them and sob, and it didn't help one bit that I had others at home. It was for the best, I knew that, but it still didn't make it any easier. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I know it's probably blasphemy to even compare, but when Elizabeth Elliott's husband was killed by a spear while trying to evangelize a tribe somewhere I don't remember, and she got word that he'd died, she said she stood at her kitchen sink and felt God telling her to 'do the next thing.' Stay busy, keep moving. One thing at a time. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's what we're doing here - busy from sun-up to sun-down, and steeling up for all the goodbyes each day holds. Looking toward the welcoming hugs waiting for us down south and getting ready to tell one chunk of our family goodbye. How did those mothers of daughters heading out on wagon trains do it? </div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-49250479545921787062010-03-20T08:00:00.002-04:002010-03-20T08:00:04.475-04:00Annie Get Your Gun!A week from now we're moving to the middle of nowhere, pretty much. Ten miles from town and that town has 203 people, not including us. So 205. Not that they ever really update those signs. The next nearest town is 30 miles away and that's where Walmart, the bank, doctors, hairdressers and church will be. Being a city girl most of my life, Walmart being 30 miles away qualifies as 'middle of nowhere'. <div><br /></div><div>Middle of nowhere, we've been told by the neighbors (we do have 120 of them) will include the following:</div><div><br /></div><div>deer, skunks, raccoons, armadillos, possums, 300 lb feral pigs, coyotes, and snakes. Lots of snakes including water moccasins (that, BTW, do not stay in the water), rattlesnakes, coral and one other poisonous kind I can't remember, in spite of reading an entire book called "Texas Snakes". Most snakes, it ends up, aren't poisonous and if I could get good enough at identifying them, I would lean toward leaving them alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>My husband seems to think a hoe is the perfect way to deal with a poisonous snake. Just take an Alice in Wonderland approach and yell, "Off with her head!" or maybe he won't yell it, but he'll do it. Chop their heads off with a hoe. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'd die of a heart attack first. </div><div><br /></div><div>So he decided we needed to buy me a gun. I rarely even kill bugs, am terrified of lizards, and struggle with the idea of hurting any animal, which includes the squirrel that had already been run over and was flopping in front of our house. It needed to be run over again and I just wasn't brave enough, and have felt bad ever since that day. 'Put it out of misery' continues to ring in my ears but I just couldn't do it. </div><div><br /></div><div>So this will be a stretching experience for me. But, by golly, I now have a gun. After a few trips to Cabelas and such, we ended up at a gun shop and bought me a 4-10 shotgun. I now know the difference between a shotgun and a rifle, and the different sizes they come in. It was pretty important to my husband to buy one that would not shoot across the lake, but would reach the end of our property. Hmmm, I wonder why?</div><div><br /></div><div>My Dad tells me you need to stand at least 12 feet away from a skunk before you shoot it. He learned this after pelting one with a big rock, and coming home to have his mother strip him bare naked in the front yard and put him in the horse trough before she'd let him back in the house. I'm taking his word for it when I deal with the skunk we've seen on our carport twice already.</div><div><br /></div><div>It seems I'm to become a bit of an Annie Oakley, target practice is scheduled for me and hopefully within a short time I'll be able to put my money where my mouth is if most critters come into our yard, and I'll be able to decrease the number of poisonous snakes around our property. I told my daughter, Sarah, this morning that I think I'd be a better shot if I had a leather skirt and jacket, complete with fringe, and a cowgirl hat that had a chin strap to hold it on my head. She made me promise if I ever do get said outfit, I won't wear it when her kids are visiting. I personally think it would endear me to them forever - Granny with a gun!</div><div><br /></div><div>Feral pigs.... I'm pretty sure if one of those comes into our yard, my Daddy will hear me yellin' my head off, 900 miles away! I don't think I've got that much stretch in me.</div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-25722964979669404702010-03-18T07:45:00.007-04:002010-03-18T08:05:27.981-04:00You're Never Too Old for Kid DayA good twenty years ago I read somewhere about Kid Day. I think it may have been Sanity in the Summer, by Linda Dillow and Claudia Arp (a fabulous book by the way for all you moms with little kids.) The book was chock full of ideas on how to invest in your kids' lives during the summer months and not lose your mind. <div><br /></div><div>I'd set aside little bits of money all year long, then when June came we'd take one day a week just for fun. Rarely did I allow the kids to bring along friends. Kid day was just for us, and for them to bond as siblings. A good thing since, being typical kids, they spent much of the other 6 days a week doing the typical bickering and blaming. I'd start summer with a list we'd made together - activities we wanted to do. </div><div><br /></div><div>There were picnics by the pond, followed up with catching tadpoles in jars. Taking their first ride in a cab from Walmart to home. Entire days spent at the lake, swimming and playing in the sun. Local museums. Visiting residents of a nearby nursing home. History lessons were squeezed in at an indian mound near St. Louis. Putting on a play in the backyard and inviting the neighbors. All three kids still tell me they have great memories of kid day, and our girls have reenacted it with their own children. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I realized a few days ago we can do kid day again, just Don and me! Now that he's retired we have an entirely open calendar if we're smart enough to realize it. We can also get so busy remodeling the house, working in the yard, running errands, that we work ourselves to death. So we agreed - a weekly kid day will be just the thing to keep us light hearted and having fun together. It'll also give us a great opportunity to learn the area we live in, and sometimes kid day might spill into two days so that we wander and explore all day, grab a B&B somewhere along the way and head back home the next day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last week was full of doctor appointments and errands and bills and laundry and such. So today is our first official kid day. We're headed to a famous german micro-brewery on the south side of Pittsburgh, for lunch alongside the river, then to see a matinee (we can do that now!), back home to grab a sandwich for dinner and then end our day by taking dessert to our daughter's house. Next week is our last one here in Pittsburgh, so we'll do something local again. Maybe drive up to Ohiopyle where we went camping so many times. Check out the rapids, grab an ice cream cone and head back home. </div><div><br /></div><div>We're thinking future kid days will be to local antique stores, maybe wander into Louisiana or even Oklahoma, down to Waco, and sometimes just to take off in a direction and see where we end up. That might be the most fun of all. We've also gotten several mailings from the state of Texas that direct us to their local haunts and highlights. Where's the best barbeque? The best bluebonnet show? The best bird watching? (I might have to pay Don to do that last one with me.) Heck, we may even have a picnic by a pond and scoop up tadpoles to bring home for our grandkids to watch.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's supposed to be sunny and in the 60's. Way too pretty to be inside working. Summer will be here before you know it, so if you have kids, c<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sanity-Summertime-Complete-Summer-Survival-Handbook/dp/0840731884/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1268913349&sr=1-1">heck out the book.</a> It's new for $29.00 or you can snatch up one of 29 copies for a PENNY. Even if you're the (pretty big) kid, go for it! It's been years since I rode in a cab!</div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-45220246961475063532010-03-17T11:01:00.006-04:002010-03-17T11:33:38.158-04:00Riviera Maya - Last of Photos<div style="text-align: center;">Our 'celebrate retirement / birthday / 29th anniversary' at Riviera Maya was at an all-inclusive resort for one week. We figured a couple of excursions would be a good break but not make it too hectic or expensive. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukPRWPymcQxj9hQHlphgEff872lFk7urS3qu-5G99PaWYUigmYf5ybqUFwzcaAHnFjDq3nZby_k7-lFPn7ylRm4YStmEGi5WQMGyvSjw5BuVnacli8Adl40hvtfiF1eELMSs2k6RKUGk/s1600-h/P1040613.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukPRWPymcQxj9hQHlphgEff872lFk7urS3qu-5G99PaWYUigmYf5ybqUFwzcaAHnFjDq3nZby_k7-lFPn7ylRm4YStmEGi5WQMGyvSjw5BuVnacli8Adl40hvtfiF1eELMSs2k6RKUGk/s320/P1040613.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449619442535539490" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The first trip we took was by ferry to the island of Cozumel. I wore a patch and bracelets and they assured me the ferry was huge and would not be a problem. They lied. But I survived. Having a history of motion sickness it has to be somewhere really spectacular to abide the ride. Cozumel was worth feeling like dirt for 45 minutes each way. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The island of Cozumel sits right across the bay from Cancun, has grown like crazy in the last five years and now has 90,000 full time residents who live in the upper 1/3 of the island. The middle 1/3 is all mangrove forests and they provide a break from the hurricanes that tend to hit here. The bottom 1/3 has no homes or hotels, but does allow day trips to enjoy snorkeling, scuba diving, beach combing, etc. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">We took an open-air ride with a narrator that lasted all day. Our first stop was to see some Mayan ruins then we pulled off the road, to check out the lagoon, across from the beach.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2tlXZ9YzMPOhpcNbmK_BC1RK_USLURYUB988-XfQNqAkKLeNwCkCuoDReNtv84hl7OZ5f_D9k-YCG1YklqvIE0ysU0_8lxJa0RK7zD97gPoKz2s_Dk4aOivbdfVjQk0DOyPLjLp3JKk/s1600-h/P1040616.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2tlXZ9YzMPOhpcNbmK_BC1RK_USLURYUB988-XfQNqAkKLeNwCkCuoDReNtv84hl7OZ5f_D9k-YCG1YklqvIE0ysU0_8lxJa0RK7zD97gPoKz2s_Dk4aOivbdfVjQk0DOyPLjLp3JKk/s320/P1040616.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449619431555427378" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">One very large male and two female crocodiles lived there, and sure enough - when the narrator whistled they came close. The male was over 10 feet long, and the females pretty close to that too. The creepiest part was that when they went underwater even a few inches you could not see them at all for the color of the water. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC6-aRekZ9f0JS_vnFqdP_14REcLqaCFn6CPP65KN2W85PukmaPG_bfdvQHj90C7-BoShdZungo3oHIBMZIZKmJ0Pfhwnjs7uHgLKGWvzzDXNC-PfCSfN6QdXWvunDHKB9cfQc7vV5LZQ/s1600-h/P1040625.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC6-aRekZ9f0JS_vnFqdP_14REcLqaCFn6CPP65KN2W85PukmaPG_bfdvQHj90C7-BoShdZungo3oHIBMZIZKmJ0Pfhwnjs7uHgLKGWvzzDXNC-PfCSfN6QdXWvunDHKB9cfQc7vV5LZQ/s320/P1040625.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449619122763518818" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Here you can see the lagoon on the left and the beach on the right. The most beautiful white sand beaches and look at the color of the water! It looks like my grandson, Grayson's eyes. The water was too rough that day for snorkeling - they told us it was only 30% visibility but we were still able to walk the beach, have lunch in some hut they set up, and I was able to grab a gorgeous pink conch shell out of the waves that came up on the beach. After being unsuccessful I watched a woman whose arms were full of shells. She put her back to the water, stood with her eyes peeled for the surf coming in, and once she saw a shell wash up she'd reach down and grab it before it washed back out to sea. That pretty pink shell is sitting on the ledge of my tub. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgywq2aykJNIS7RmjwbYTmodlGwQYQXvTUhvjX8mWTyxUiGMrqU06hSvZNznDfrA5X4EdCIumL_Wzk81odHkdqY03eseHRtvW1ACEDlqLcPa2ixTjFpZOLxUjzVFHz9bGjZ5dHMMEFEdaY/s1600-h/P1040636.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgywq2aykJNIS7RmjwbYTmodlGwQYQXvTUhvjX8mWTyxUiGMrqU06hSvZNznDfrA5X4EdCIumL_Wzk81odHkdqY03eseHRtvW1ACEDlqLcPa2ixTjFpZOLxUjzVFHz9bGjZ5dHMMEFEdaY/s320/P1040636.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449619113416265794" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Here Don's sporting his birthday gift - I was able to hurry into the hotel lobby shop and grab this straw cowboy hat that he'd had his eye on. $29 american money and he loved it. The narrator and his helper sang Happy Birthday in Spanish, and the entire bus sang it in English - so a pretty fun birthday overall. Don got so tanned on this trip natives were asking him if he was from Cuba. Nobody asked if I was a native.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The narrator told us the water was about 50 feet right where we would have snorkeled, then it went into a black hole - bottomless. Nobody had gone down far enough to find bottom. Isn't the ocean just amazing?</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHuwa4-K6kHXvNyy1K2h6RwrHmMd2KxvYv8YzzHQIoU_WM71c4TV8e-JmMjStwpR48vG2sZN2akVth32umD95wc8hL_9IJJlLS8fQKWnWbjzN79sfrK0YHRwEOgM59LjWA8aKhLumX1M/s1600-h/P1040639.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHuwa4-K6kHXvNyy1K2h6RwrHmMd2KxvYv8YzzHQIoU_WM71c4TV8e-JmMjStwpR48vG2sZN2akVth32umD95wc8hL_9IJJlLS8fQKWnWbjzN79sfrK0YHRwEOgM59LjWA8aKhLumX1M/s320/P1040639.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449619098430668290" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Back in the town of Cozumel we were given an hour to shop and browse, finding fun items for our grandkids' Easter baskets. Mexico is such a colorful place - bright splashes of color anywhere they can put it. It was fun to watch shoppers deal with the sidewalk hawkers, striking a bargain. They love to bargain with you. If you say no to their price they tend to come after you with another offer.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rwlb3_7s99rM8zLcRGOrhRLZ81IDSh8WTGhVKS2-kLTirkvDa69OZXRA2oAONqReUZak4PeOfbOyr07vs0VjniUXpCqmJ9aEOnDXOQPqciB2bfrjNvDjv_jDFdOKELq0OmribDPDPfQ/s1600-h/P1040641.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rwlb3_7s99rM8zLcRGOrhRLZ81IDSh8WTGhVKS2-kLTirkvDa69OZXRA2oAONqReUZak4PeOfbOyr07vs0VjniUXpCqmJ9aEOnDXOQPqciB2bfrjNvDjv_jDFdOKELq0OmribDPDPfQ/s320/P1040641.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449619085019609698" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">We came across this group of young girls, skirts swirling as they did the Mexican Hat dance. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrvF7wOq4xW3IgR1SLuki-FgQdUOBn7W4Ds3MKrjq8oLrvf3xCPEnIUSw6gU5D7HeEeoKMZPID8EQX6uwUqxKqyGutsS0if3awPtrqGaDVt8m9LynUq1tTfAf5_OnJVWd3fYhyphenhyphen0ZiJ2I/s1600-h/P1040658.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrvF7wOq4xW3IgR1SLuki-FgQdUOBn7W4Ds3MKrjq8oLrvf3xCPEnIUSw6gU5D7HeEeoKMZPID8EQX6uwUqxKqyGutsS0if3awPtrqGaDVt8m9LynUq1tTfAf5_OnJVWd3fYhyphenhyphen0ZiJ2I/s320/P1040658.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449619072006026434" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The other excursion we went on was a bit crazy. We asked our hotel concierge about a 'romantic lobster dinner cruise' and they immediately yelled, 'Captain Hook!'. We ended up going on a five hour ride of figure eights around the lagoon while everyone drank tequila, did salsa dancing and we did indeed have a lobster dinner below deck. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mKu4lVu31B3BT1syjWnWUQ4mzwAAc7n2-KRV2ORObEMYDyLzXLMHgrJplSc4YXqympyHoqKXkVef4QbAhBDQWrEL5ygVWBRNxvdQDs8ts9KM4qHoZphJKiIF4L77T0jsvqOVYTloOxI/s1600-h/P1040662.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mKu4lVu31B3BT1syjWnWUQ4mzwAAc7n2-KRV2ORObEMYDyLzXLMHgrJplSc4YXqympyHoqKXkVef4QbAhBDQWrEL5ygVWBRNxvdQDs8ts9KM4qHoZphJKiIF4L77T0jsvqOVYTloOxI/s320/P1040662.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449618687171652258" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Posing with the skeleton heads before we boarded. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Not sure where we'd put this if we framed it. Doesn't it look like we're at tribal council on Survivor? Where's Jeff Probst?</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx4W3aKJiXUC2hwz2nzXJ4ymkyz5Yfnlqwa2nE2l7ZKomHtLIg0qzSaDyywqIYKIETY3D-rY7LRmW_NulH8QniZ3GhJFpWhPjMOY2UQrUl60hoBkeGw5Wa0Wu4DN6p8UASpiKAdTS1lGI/s1600-h/P1040685.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx4W3aKJiXUC2hwz2nzXJ4ymkyz5Yfnlqwa2nE2l7ZKomHtLIg0qzSaDyywqIYKIETY3D-rY7LRmW_NulH8QniZ3GhJFpWhPjMOY2UQrUl60hoBkeGw5Wa0Wu4DN6p8UASpiKAdTS1lGI/s320/P1040685.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449618677070455906" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Once dinner was over another boat, much like ours, pulled close and started firing on us with cannon sounds and big puffs of smoke. Pirates started swinging through the air, landing onboard where our Captain - Jack Sparrow - had a big sword fight with their captain - Captain Hook. Our grandkids would have loved this part of the trip. Not so much the three hours of very loud salsa music and tequila and complete strangers grinding into each other. We were ready to get off once we pulled up to land, but overall it was fun. Headache inducing but fun.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NRvi4NeEzINFWPIJvUO3d1d_5bAaybjAUCwvXl3B0UkaTPaGJ59PY6-U8HEVeP2PbhJaUpNRogbrJ1PHuc2cHlGf8iaMUkS4MZ4rzLF1W3L9lElrgyMAynlLa0yi58M8NCJ5ujx2WYs/s1600-h/P1040713.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NRvi4NeEzINFWPIJvUO3d1d_5bAaybjAUCwvXl3B0UkaTPaGJ59PY6-U8HEVeP2PbhJaUpNRogbrJ1PHuc2cHlGf8iaMUkS4MZ4rzLF1W3L9lElrgyMAynlLa0yi58M8NCJ5ujx2WYs/s320/P1040713.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449618668168525378" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our hotel was one of five Iberostar's - all grouped together within security gates so we could feel comfortable walking the grounds. At the end of the resort, near the golf course, was a shopping center with lots of shops and restaurants. They also had this gorgeous carousel for the kids to enjoy and at night it was lovely. The center courtyard had a mexican version of a jazz band playing, and we sat and enjoyed that for awhile. That horse in the background is completely made of blocks of wood - it was beautiful up close.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhug2ULZGIPu6295Lh_u0oIsE93bX3Gr782aYNZg0fWFoRJX4Lmt8DqJJoexxEjCYgo4_S5mi4MZuFoP7L8zXOWqrSvBp_EOI99KY7NYI2d4amrvBp8EHEuj31DkPl5rtMGEa4WylZWNX8/s1600-h/P1040715.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhug2ULZGIPu6295Lh_u0oIsE93bX3Gr782aYNZg0fWFoRJX4Lmt8DqJJoexxEjCYgo4_S5mi4MZuFoP7L8zXOWqrSvBp_EOI99KY7NYI2d4amrvBp8EHEuj31DkPl5rtMGEa4WylZWNX8/s320/P1040715.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449618657644560722" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our final night - we chose the mexican restaurant (they had mediterranean, japanese, italian and steak too). You could buy the hats but we chose to just pose for one photo with them. Mariachi singers serenaded us during dinner - the perfect touch to end the evening.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLde_luUWgVbEe0KnlveZHwUewixpK2kU9NylnUd7LTI-N3zpsUCCZSdrB6Au4NP8F2hJnqjE6EP8HsHShsAMZV7l5K1d2RiI030G3uuFZzm6J5TWeLsDSExLG5LJVgFeGBS0i85QRmbc/s1600-h/P1040718.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLde_luUWgVbEe0KnlveZHwUewixpK2kU9NylnUd7LTI-N3zpsUCCZSdrB6Au4NP8F2hJnqjE6EP8HsHShsAMZV7l5K1d2RiI030G3uuFZzm6J5TWeLsDSExLG5LJVgFeGBS0i85QRmbc/s320/P1040718.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449618644921065618" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Early morning - time to get up and head home. One last glimpse of palm trees silhouetted in the rising sun. Fabulous, fabulous trip - we'll be back for sure. </div></div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-18070475125069626832010-03-15T15:41:00.010-04:002010-03-15T23:29:04.701-04:00Family Photo Album - Riviera MayaUpdate: Raccoon creature is a coatamundi. Still working on the bird...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7t40fiTcqx0SicrpOWoS2KxFIaBCmALe70ef64TLFAr4EKMzjIMQLQ_7_oU_pR-55912xKY0ZEZPgMyLhBChNxRuo54iUC-i8dE3nGYmL_hxCkggOebo1RJZDJl9-fVKPbROs-n1zHoA/s1600-h/P1040590.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7t40fiTcqx0SicrpOWoS2KxFIaBCmALe70ef64TLFAr4EKMzjIMQLQ_7_oU_pR-55912xKY0ZEZPgMyLhBChNxRuo54iUC-i8dE3nGYmL_hxCkggOebo1RJZDJl9-fVKPbROs-n1zHoA/s320/P1040590.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949049408374914" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">A welcoming touch to our room... ate the chocolate wafer, admired the covered grapes.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDA46sQoxYaQMLk29x2zw5dac5WSpN65DSP9NQKNsf1Ybx0t8GYlM6VaA_nfeiZMzmePks9Ram1qd3ALJLt_rjCAR7U5Mf82vOb9Kw7Pd_pLwU9YnSMDcjem_-d6flOlIvi0Rlm2dv2Go/s1600-h/P1040591.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDA46sQoxYaQMLk29x2zw5dac5WSpN65DSP9NQKNsf1Ybx0t8GYlM6VaA_nfeiZMzmePks9Ram1qd3ALJLt_rjCAR7U5Mf82vOb9Kw7Pd_pLwU9YnSMDcjem_-d6flOlIvi0Rlm2dv2Go/s320/P1040591.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949057863562850" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Views from our second floor room...</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUqmAFBzaxopYa7qLr2vQKzqe1Itse4RqvOCx32Nl3NmBvAyHWLGGmiFGjnxmzlwCGYnv1qMeSN4hgdml_zKgH-8O1o_fhqy5EEoV4KBdZamFOvbH1Xh_YrbuHCxlcsM7f33eTWXMzgZw/s1600-h/P1040593.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUqmAFBzaxopYa7qLr2vQKzqe1Itse4RqvOCx32Nl3NmBvAyHWLGGmiFGjnxmzlwCGYnv1qMeSN4hgdml_zKgH-8O1o_fhqy5EEoV4KBdZamFOvbH1Xh_YrbuHCxlcsM7f33eTWXMzgZw/s320/P1040593.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949068440711298" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Coconuts abound!</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PCSyUv-aPof9vLlBBdw5uawo91nmCn-SGWMUTYr2Mk4rqd8ozf_ylxpq8Uc2hT3sFZlJuQ2cZI786HKISC0dpMgJTM8OhnkMg7aU4dwXeVdUWCEkOKujNKEWhl2rEAvYgl4a6vYKJAM/s1600-h/P1040595.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PCSyUv-aPof9vLlBBdw5uawo91nmCn-SGWMUTYr2Mk4rqd8ozf_ylxpq8Uc2hT3sFZlJuQ2cZI786HKISC0dpMgJTM8OhnkMg7aU4dwXeVdUWCEkOKujNKEWhl2rEAvYgl4a6vYKJAM/s320/P1040595.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949076051646402" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Pedicured toes taking it easy by the pool that went forever.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvm6ZcRTz9aJZ8bAXlWXmr8i3yqUvnXc9y3tp0dcoZZ0VQgGbY_3UkKnJpvd4IKcu50nF6xHx4vQJFHArFGQEgGUZphddm9dykf2X2yQ8Ee79Y65_uCEQXmag7XxarZECCQuhrK9bqpfY/s1600-h/P1040598.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvm6ZcRTz9aJZ8bAXlWXmr8i3yqUvnXc9y3tp0dcoZZ0VQgGbY_3UkKnJpvd4IKcu50nF6xHx4vQJFHArFGQEgGUZphddm9dykf2X2yQ8Ee79Y65_uCEQXmag7XxarZECCQuhrK9bqpfY/s320/P1040598.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949078090500050" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">That is absolutely not a high spare tire around my middle. It's a crease in the photo.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTT-jxNBLTpoUXFFZwgk8sq-eVpN-x3RBKQ5zkSY7qU6SQTTlYNr3L220Cjf0kp9O8OoqMfpqo1PneKi_qB9Ghy94YM9mBn8mwyLz1qI59p414sisC3BWV-AQrSCi5UODn0M7WKi2ylz8/s1600-h/P1040599.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTT-jxNBLTpoUXFFZwgk8sq-eVpN-x3RBKQ5zkSY7qU6SQTTlYNr3L220Cjf0kp9O8OoqMfpqo1PneKi_qB9Ghy94YM9mBn8mwyLz1qI59p414sisC3BWV-AQrSCi5UODn0M7WKi2ylz8/s320/P1040599.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949401840222914" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Hot Caribbean trip companion!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSWxLEvHReImT1aIDL4GEwf4ikjgfqwCMaJRI2LVL3lxMD0rXo8c5AuZyyp4vzXvuD54wXs25UdnjBhyRbwZ36Q_p-dQmDWb0ut5GRiVKIOOi8vyoCM_Z1v9oM1jm34u8PybYwHfcb-0/s1600-h/P1040606.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSWxLEvHReImT1aIDL4GEwf4ikjgfqwCMaJRI2LVL3lxMD0rXo8c5AuZyyp4vzXvuD54wXs25UdnjBhyRbwZ36Q_p-dQmDWb0ut5GRiVKIOOi8vyoCM_Z1v9oM1jm34u8PybYwHfcb-0/s320/P1040606.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949408880723858" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">A pair of swans swimming by every morning during breakfast.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBu-PzATj_AyVVZC1lKAkHbIZ_QcAffCyZYdH1rgsCIFKYYYk1T_dfZM2PCTdDWALlPsHyJEJEEumOR4iwg-18R2ZGnWPhNQ_Ncxfo2dnOu6YcrlAmR-g59NYeStkijDMsOy9pBNlASHk/s1600-h/P1040607.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBu-PzATj_AyVVZC1lKAkHbIZ_QcAffCyZYdH1rgsCIFKYYYk1T_dfZM2PCTdDWALlPsHyJEJEEumOR4iwg-18R2ZGnWPhNQ_Ncxfo2dnOu6YcrlAmR-g59NYeStkijDMsOy9pBNlASHk/s320/P1040607.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949415150795810" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Lovely start to every day - mexican coffee and breakfast buffet which included vast amounts of pastries.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-kLBy_zHc-MEz_IET1uKOo1UUb7qrTEypJY-mb2e3JUgaJQG3Il4ECgc-7QGYBbQ5jDGbnS1FSH1QRPw1ek6jJRQSgYI5ffhSmCxXf9Ebji9eLWNQMgI9vytckwYK6Oe3ahLzFEgouFU/s1600-h/P1040608.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-kLBy_zHc-MEz_IET1uKOo1UUb7qrTEypJY-mb2e3JUgaJQG3Il4ECgc-7QGYBbQ5jDGbnS1FSH1QRPw1ek6jJRQSgYI5ffhSmCxXf9Ebji9eLWNQMgI9vytckwYK6Oe3ahLzFEgouFU/s320/P1040608.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949419286594066" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Some people called these raccoons. One lady called them the 'cute mexican bears'. We called them lemurs but honestly who knows. They were everywhere there was food and very friendly.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFYIDS79C5qlxWK0GZc6DowLv_VIOhbkPcboyp3XkKcrU4byeHnyQ8C9URjBsacNid6-46T7JujKPuiOHfPqAi0o6iUQBgoD2cANcVUNj8Rgdy5cf_BfYoionj6xa_BSsmxoA76gIsMc/s1600-h/P1040610.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFYIDS79C5qlxWK0GZc6DowLv_VIOhbkPcboyp3XkKcrU4byeHnyQ8C9URjBsacNid6-46T7JujKPuiOHfPqAi0o6iUQBgoD2cANcVUNj8Rgdy5cf_BfYoionj6xa_BSsmxoA76gIsMc/s320/P1040610.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949430836765714" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">An albino peacock. I managed to get one of his longest tail feathers (already removed from his body. I did NOT pull it out.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmkVGk9-qLexTVCRYPokhyphenhyphenS54NNoEtveulcjzBTs2U4c22fMgTLOPNHaVQvTQeyBHVppaGCuTno_16f2sjzvpajOaauVY66kcDvrk8XtQ0n45cecNRr05PW7xccrpeOuWT_uKlMF14Ic/s1600-h/P1040611.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmkVGk9-qLexTVCRYPokhyphenhyphenS54NNoEtveulcjzBTs2U4c22fMgTLOPNHaVQvTQeyBHVppaGCuTno_16f2sjzvpajOaauVY66kcDvrk8XtQ0n45cecNRr05PW7xccrpeOuWT_uKlMF14Ic/s320/P1040611.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949790051329074" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The sixth one is missing, but these guys live their whole lives in one little pond. Very pretty. Reminded me of <a href="http://www.anewchelseamorning.blogspot.com/">my sister, Barb </a>who happens to love them.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGI1JJFo4mCY1SbhUa7AS4Z1cZIo5xehvoGEwk52Ldw0de8w_205pc66rq4IdbwRv23jdIn8YZ0-16WvPhd6SVsVNwpu64_6Bk-who5R8W7Y9f95Z9NghdctAriiRnYd7_Drxip4gN5L8/s1600-h/P1040651.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGI1JJFo4mCY1SbhUa7AS4Z1cZIo5xehvoGEwk52Ldw0de8w_205pc66rq4IdbwRv23jdIn8YZ0-16WvPhd6SVsVNwpu64_6Bk-who5R8W7Y9f95Z9NghdctAriiRnYd7_Drxip4gN5L8/s320/P1040651.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949803452727986" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">This guy visited everybody, walking up and down the pathways. There were no closed doors - everything was wide open all the time.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLlULq_1vkdVNfkcwVrpM7vTTbUfxuZBzyHICRp-pg-63724lJCozUR06lFivD_vt-MAL7XEFOC8PkaamJ1npY5KYxpMz7SPjQNcyEkf3qwJSHfvkwAZJ-sWmbnFJsEPdm4oRlRkgkEXU/s1600-h/P1040700.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLlULq_1vkdVNfkcwVrpM7vTTbUfxuZBzyHICRp-pg-63724lJCozUR06lFivD_vt-MAL7XEFOC8PkaamJ1npY5KYxpMz7SPjQNcyEkf3qwJSHfvkwAZJ-sWmbnFJsEPdm4oRlRkgkEXU/s320/P1040700.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949805312287666" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">No idea what this guy is - but he sure was pretty.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzUIbGqOGxW_lI1WFmPCMgCGL_g_ml5i0tDdVQFBUKxyM86gkHwvC6-krj-h4AKVxkHa2lKCzCdOZU9WAomfh6rSNCGxEm4XbRdBwmFVsIrgBLz4RLrj07p5KWaUofF9LRSp3ACGOU-Y/s1600-h/P1040701.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzUIbGqOGxW_lI1WFmPCMgCGL_g_ml5i0tDdVQFBUKxyM86gkHwvC6-krj-h4AKVxkHa2lKCzCdOZU9WAomfh6rSNCGxEm4XbRdBwmFVsIrgBLz4RLrj07p5KWaUofF9LRSp3ACGOU-Y/s320/P1040701.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949816405597762" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Iguanas - not my favorite. Hard for me to believe people pay money to have these as pets.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07HjUm_FLHNNl417vyr4sVfCbShLbP4LF28XQXql7etZd39xX_df3rL4cy1xBxaYHyeB2f2FqRFBMo1_SC8fIg8hEFRirNkg6v4RLKj1R2DJzCfgIjXD3_6j1f7CUGS_TpaORnFhaVpU/s1600-h/P1040705.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07HjUm_FLHNNl417vyr4sVfCbShLbP4LF28XQXql7etZd39xX_df3rL4cy1xBxaYHyeB2f2FqRFBMo1_SC8fIg8hEFRirNkg6v4RLKj1R2DJzCfgIjXD3_6j1f7CUGS_TpaORnFhaVpU/s320/P1040705.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448949818134111250" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Every day someone had made a fabulous sculpture out of sand. I loved this one.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHdnPhwwPUGDf1AuJKsiQ41YOP2PYIZaJjnliwXgIJGu5ffRI2SDSBnBs4AGJLLmVoKasq8qOJxXyevPp7rEpxfEM9mKetW4awisC2kWwbpKZjkRP6x4rzwuzeHxK871F868Lh2K4x00/s1600-h/P1040707.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHdnPhwwPUGDf1AuJKsiQ41YOP2PYIZaJjnliwXgIJGu5ffRI2SDSBnBs4AGJLLmVoKasq8qOJxXyevPp7rEpxfEM9mKetW4awisC2kWwbpKZjkRP6x4rzwuzeHxK871F868Lh2K4x00/s320/P1040707.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448950180207651122" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our beach was a good mile long, and the perfect place for an afternoon walk every day.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSd0GaOQ07ono9jI8QQS-1F-es850OziugfWecuvBlt-k5ERQBr8vh52HkBtboEqD8TGlaESFvwLlZrpI1_AHDQ82HjZN1rI0_HU2EClVgnvdDdj_i9YRwoOqz3IOYTJxr5Zl8PVuflo/s1600-h/P1040708.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSd0GaOQ07ono9jI8QQS-1F-es850OziugfWecuvBlt-k5ERQBr8vh52HkBtboEqD8TGlaESFvwLlZrpI1_AHDQ82HjZN1rI0_HU2EClVgnvdDdj_i9YRwoOqz3IOYTJxr5Zl8PVuflo/s320/P1040708.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448950183255939554" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Huge pelicans that stooped here, looking for lunch.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQLLMj4622_iI4sudOCFMmqMV8NpLd4lyHuTzpfoSjuX6fMYSffD_LGy1S6zQyjU-UCjgE0Oriuc719Vi5oQjSOHccUQGAP0g_4QVykge03cndl4KcSJeCPX-71x1rRH17gR6DkNoWn4/s1600-h/P1040709.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQLLMj4622_iI4sudOCFMmqMV8NpLd4lyHuTzpfoSjuX6fMYSffD_LGy1S6zQyjU-UCjgE0Oriuc719Vi5oQjSOHccUQGAP0g_4QVykge03cndl4KcSJeCPX-71x1rRH17gR6DkNoWn4/s320/P1040709.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448950193544244066" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">More of my raccoon buddies, as we were walking back to our room.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmQ9E0bC93zQpIRnpRpjx74C0BUajBTIlrI01qGWLNs7tRSV4RvxNfI6GUQ8Z3pwZdhi4dvcXfTNw0PEZ87EYvTf53Ordx324lgtX79pBTynirnhQV0lIvweYSyJBpDRaO2yzm4Y4A_8/s1600-h/P1040711.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmQ9E0bC93zQpIRnpRpjx74C0BUajBTIlrI01qGWLNs7tRSV4RvxNfI6GUQ8Z3pwZdhi4dvcXfTNw0PEZ87EYvTf53Ordx324lgtX79pBTynirnhQV0lIvweYSyJBpDRaO2yzm4Y4A_8/s320/P1040711.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448950196884910002" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">It's amazing how many show up when you pull out a bag of cheese nips. I got to feed them from my hand and only one was a bit feisty. Most of them were sweet and gentle.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We're as busy as a one-armed paper hanger right now, getting ready to move south in two weeks, but I'll post the rest of the photos in a day or three. We're busy but we're reasonably rested, tan as all get out and happy as clams to be together.</div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-30211871257353748142010-03-09T23:25:00.005-05:002010-03-09T23:51:01.705-05:00Adventure 101We're back home - in our nest. Which is now clean enough to be sanitary, but not fabulous. And we have non-curdled milk and yogurt with dates that haven't expired and lunch meat that isn't slick and slimy. And clean underwear. <br /><br />And we've been home together for two whole days living the retired life and haven't killed each other yet. <br /><br />It feels weird - good but weird. We forget what day it is - vacation does that but not having to get up and go anywhere does too. Rolling over in the bed at 8 am and seeing a man lying there scares the beegeebees out of me then I remember, oh yeah, he lives here, he's mine, and he doesn't have to go anywhere. I don't know if I'm going to recognize this man once the bags disappear from under his eyes, they've been there so many years.<br /><br />Breakfast comes and we don't know what to do - this man who used to eat breakfast at his desk over morning emails now sits at the coffee table with the paper. He still eats the same thing and I'm pretty sure he's already wondering where the bacon and eggs he dreamed of went. And he's drinking more than his share of the coffee which is a good thing but still strange. <br /><br />Today was clean the apartment day. Twenty-nine years ago Don told me his part of cleaning the house would be to not get it dirty. So I warned him last night I was going to clean this morning, and he manned up (I'm pretty sure he was terrified he'd joined the cleaning crew and I'm pretty sure he'd rather go back to work than clean bathrooms and vacuum) and asked me at 9 am how he could help. I asked if he would please straighten the garage, make sense of all the moving boxes, find out if we need to buy more and then could he please take the car and fill it with gas, pick up prescriptions and check out renting a U-haul for our upcoming move. <br /><br />I figured it would give him a break from me for a good few hours, and after about ten days straight of looking at me I was pretty sure he would be ready to be gone for awhile. We're down to one car now, having lost the company car he drove for the past 29 years, and I quickly told him he can have ours. It can be his - feel free to keep it clean, oil changed, current on maintenance and full of gas. I don't really need a car, just a driver most of the time! <br /><br />At 4:30 this afternoon I started to make supper and realized I was three hours early. This evening we watched three episodes of Lost and two of American Idol. Because we can. And we sat and just talked a couple of different times, about finding a church, trading in a vehicle, whether to have a pet, physical therapy, finding doctors, etc. etc. etc. Talk is good - lots of talking will keep us together, knowing what the other one is thinking. Thank you, Pastor Ron, for your marriage class five years ago. We're reaping the benefits of it now, listening to what's on each other's minds. Sharing fears, concerns, dreams. <br /><br />So we're not very good at this yet, but there's hope. We're cutting fresh paths together and enjoying staying up too late, sleeping in, making plans.. This path we're on has a few potholes in it, but that's okay. A road that is completely smooth makes for a pretty boring ride. That's half the fun of life, isn't it - not having it figured out all the time. Maybe this is what being a Newlywed felt like and I'd just forgotten - Adventure 101. <br /><br />Two nights from now I've got an evening out with 19 girlfriends for dinner and a play. I'm certain I'll have a blast. We'll giggle and talk and eat and sing. And that newly retired man of mine? He may take his car to the back parking lot and do donuts, or drive to the steakhouse by himself for a manly meal. Or zap a TV dinner, stay home and watch a dozen episodes of CSI. A bit of absence that'll make the heart grow fonder, then we'll come back together for yogurt and coffee and the newspaper while we figure out another day. So far we're loving it!Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-53059002000793641872010-03-07T08:00:00.002-05:002010-03-07T08:00:03.008-05:00A Brave New World..... of RetirementIs it vacation if you don't have to go back to work? When we walk off that plane, gather our luggage, find our car, and drive home, but Don doesn't go back to work on Monday - was it a vacation? <div><br /></div><div>Weird, very weird this new life we've just embarked on. Deep, crazy, flying around my head thoughts about it all - and not at all figured out yet. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am now the owner of a husband who no longer has an office, or blackberry, or email address, or company car. He's all mine, whether I'm ready for it or not. </div><div><br /></div><div>He may be thinking he's the owner of a wife who has a cell phone, a car she's used to driving when she pleases, two email addresses, girlfriends, and stuff to do. Wonder what he's thinking about all that?!</div><div><br /></div><div>I've joined the ranks of women who take their husbands grocery shopping, and neither one of us is sure what we think about that. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've joined the ranks of women who wake up because the room grew light and I look over and he's lying there too, and we just stay there for a few minutes, talking about our day, then both of us head to the coffee pot, pour a cup and amble over to the sofa to read the paper, sip coffee, and I suspect one of us will say, "what do you have going on today?" </div><div><br /></div><div>Weird, weird. Nice. Still weird. It's a new world - a little direction please, God?</div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176966263550749305.post-43360525282215821062010-03-02T08:00:00.000-05:002010-03-02T08:00:08.207-05:00The Power of Half - Update<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJDvjZl62Biq-HzFyeb0BmOqjpE9UWRHvxWEn0VzazHBylw6E8RqWMNKEozbuNOOSJ2HTdiza70PYeV_WaXhVpNvsZKvpeRH4Y-Y7DA4me4Gveehg7ERojsgZB3jLlw6eoMKIk2dJ-M4/s1600-h/Give+away+groceries.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJDvjZl62Biq-HzFyeb0BmOqjpE9UWRHvxWEn0VzazHBylw6E8RqWMNKEozbuNOOSJ2HTdiza70PYeV_WaXhVpNvsZKvpeRH4Y-Y7DA4me4Gveehg7ERojsgZB3jLlw6eoMKIk2dJ-M4/s320/Give+away+groceries.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440810983711269922" /></a>A few weeks ago <a href="http://lifeofgrits.blogspot.com/2010/01/living-without-half.html">I posted about how moved I was over a story I read - </a>a family who sold their house and gave half the money away, and moved into the smaller house and lived happily ever after. Really. So we decided to give away half of our grocery budget for the month of February. <div><br /></div><div>For two paychecks, I stashed away the money, and shopped with the other half. I also made an effort to use what was in our pantry and freezer. </div><div><br /></div><div>We had more than plenty and it's nice to have that Christmas ham (given to us by Don's company) out of the freezer. You know the saying about two people and a ham..... Ice cream tastes fine, even with a bit of freezer burn, with a little chocolate syrup on it. Superbowl snacks were easy to come up with - just pull out all the boxes in the freezer and consider it nice variety to have taquitos and super pretzels, and such. Our freezer and pantry are a bit more lean, and with moving 1200 miles south just a month away, that's a good thing - less to move.</div><div><br /></div><div>So finally, finally yesterday we had a Saturday afternoon when there was time to go shopping. With a mental number in our head, we drove to the nearest discount grocery and started down the aisles. </div><div><br /></div><div>Don't you sometimes have a conversation with someone, seemingly random and you know one comment will stay with you forever? Talking to someone awhile back, he told me the food at food banks is, in general, of very poor quality. That's it hard to use some of it, hard to take ingredients and put them together to come up with something. So we wanted to shop towards a goal of giving items like pancakes with syrup, or chili that had beans and diced tomatoes, or spaghetti with sauce. Peanut butter with grape jelly. And no ramen noodles. </div><div><br /></div><div>As the cart began to fill to the top, we still had money left and so we added about a dozen packages of cookies because in spite of the problem of overweight kids in America, we still think a kid needs a cookie now and then. And we threw in toilet paper and laundry soap and bath soap and dish soap because if we're not mistaken, food stamps only cover food items, but everybody still needs to do laundry and dishes and take baths. </div><div><br /></div><div>We don't know who will end up with any of these groceries - it might surprise us to see them. We do know there are kids out there who will have cereal or pancakes for breakfast before they head to school, who will come home to a hot meal, and maybe a parent offering a cookie and a listening ear. Maybe, just maybe it's easier for a parent to lend a listening ear when someone else helps them provide the basics for their family.</div><div><br /></div><div>We did not give til it hurt, we didn't even give til it cut into our own needs being met, and honestly it felt so good to give that I'm not sure it could be counted as giving anything away at all. We were much more on the receiving end with this one. I imagine that's how the family who gave away half their house felt too, on a much bigger scale. We're already thinking, listening and looking around for where we can give away half again - soon. I'll keep you posted.</div>Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697132925192848110noreply@blogger.com15