<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEAQng4eyp7ImA9WhRUF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591</id><updated>2012-01-27T23:54:03.633-07:00</updated><category term="cooking" /><category term="conf" /><category term="nostalgia" /><category term="motherhood" /><category term="finances" /><category term="fa" /><category term="adventures" /><category term="quirks" /><category term="infertility" /><category term="Idaho" /><category term="grandfather" /><category term="tag" /><category term="guest post" /><category term="whine" /><category term="insight" /><category term="Pet Peeves" /><category term="travel" /><category term="memories" /><category term="Justin" /><category term="current events" /><category term="family" /><category term="pets" /><category term="pop culture" /><category term="frustration" /><category term="work" /><category term="adoption" /><category term="friends" /><category term="Jocelyn" /><category term="contest" /><category term="wifehood" /><category term="father" /><category term="advice" /><category term="birthday" /><category term="silliness" /><category term="random" /><category term="tutorial" /><category term="internet fun" /><category term="home improvement" /><category term="gratitude" /><category term="activities" /><category term="faith" /><category term="confessions" /><category term="journal jar" /><category term="crafts" /><category term="self-loathing" /><category term="recipe" /><category term="dreams" /><category term="messes" /><category term="anniversary" /><category term="giveaway" /><category term="holidays" /><category term="Anywhere But Here" /><category term="love story" /><category term="Easter" /><title>pocket full of prose</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>663</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/PocketFullOfProse" /><feedburner:info uri="pocketfullofprose" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcCRXs5eCp7ImA9WhRUF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-3393850216945408092</id><published>2012-01-27T21:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-27T21:47:44.520-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-27T21:47:44.520-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adoption" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="home improvement" /><title>Planning a Nursery with My Heart Unguarded</title><content type="html">I have not felt nearly the same amount of anxiety with this adoption as I did with Jocelyn's. It's a double-edged sword. I have been a bit lackadaisical about getting my stuff together on one hand. On the other hand, I have completely let myself get baby fever. Which is fun. And scary because my heart is unguarded and I could get really hurt should the wait be long or we go through a failed adoption.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The situation is what it is, though.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I find myself doodling baby names non-stop. And I have started planning the nursery.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't have a true "before" picture. But here is the home of our future nursery. It used to be the guest room - but we are in the process of moving that downstairs. So far, we've moved the bed. And stored a lot of other junk in it. But this is what the room looks like now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LYbHollebC8/TyNj8D5UCSI/AAAAAAAAKoU/-XGFYdDtHOs/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LYbHollebC8/TyNj8D5UCSI/AAAAAAAAKoU/-XGFYdDtHOs/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will eventually remove the wallpaper, repaint, get a crib and decorate a nursery. I have it narrowed down to two themes: bumblebee colors and peacock colors. I want the nursery to be gender neutral and have good contrast for early visual development (in other words, I am not a fan of pastel nurseries).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks to Pinterest and Google in general, I have some ideas I am playing with.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bumblebee: yellow, black, and white.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XH3s9fQZC6c/TyN8vWq9iyI/AAAAAAAAKoc/NSy1xzqMaZI/s1600/bee-mobile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XH3s9fQZC6c/TyN8vWq9iyI/AAAAAAAAKoc/NSy1xzqMaZI/s320/bee-mobile.jpg" width="298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-960_IuQjrkw/TyN8wD0zx_I/AAAAAAAAKok/mYrWgLT3XMc/s1600/black+and+yellow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="232" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-960_IuQjrkw/TyN8wD0zx_I/AAAAAAAAKok/mYrWgLT3XMc/s320/black+and+yellow.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aGS7h-LSmwU/TyN9JVzwk4I/AAAAAAAAKpE/svV7K7fB7m8/s1600/bumblebee+nursery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aGS7h-LSmwU/TyN9JVzwk4I/AAAAAAAAKpE/svV7K7fB7m8/s320/bumblebee+nursery.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or peacock. Maybe not the animal per se, but the colors - teal, bright green, vivid blue, purple, gold, and tan.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dQsgjLDydVs/TyN82tBdV7I/AAAAAAAAKos/AousOwYR-vU/s1600/peacock+color.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="110" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dQsgjLDydVs/TyN82tBdV7I/AAAAAAAAKos/AousOwYR-vU/s320/peacock+color.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6bYySsRHlM/TyN9LGomAgI/AAAAAAAAKpM/JToH8WM4WrY/s1600/peacock+paisley+quilt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6bYySsRHlM/TyN9LGomAgI/AAAAAAAAKpM/JToH8WM4WrY/s1600/peacock+paisley+quilt.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-znKnfDpeLMQ/TyN84fQKulI/AAAAAAAAKo8/MzFe4GWJukQ/s1600/peacock+wall+art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="201" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-znKnfDpeLMQ/TyN84fQKulI/AAAAAAAAKo8/MzFe4GWJukQ/s320/peacock+wall+art.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IgTuVvlkaK4/TyN83RXRLbI/AAAAAAAAKo0/CYg7g8HEons/s1600/Peacock+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IgTuVvlkaK4/TyN83RXRLbI/AAAAAAAAKo0/CYg7g8HEons/s320/Peacock+room.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So with my heart completely on the chopping block, I am having fun anticipating a new baby.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-3393850216945408092?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fsFcAPKKkXZNOi_eWPd_en60idM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fsFcAPKKkXZNOi_eWPd_en60idM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fsFcAPKKkXZNOi_eWPd_en60idM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fsFcAPKKkXZNOi_eWPd_en60idM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/sXbnX7ryO1I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/3393850216945408092/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=3393850216945408092&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/3393850216945408092?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/3393850216945408092?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/sXbnX7ryO1I/planning-nursery-with-my-heart.html" title="Planning a Nursery with My Heart Unguarded" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LYbHollebC8/TyNj8D5UCSI/AAAAAAAAKoU/-XGFYdDtHOs/s72-c/001.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/planning-nursery-with-my-heart.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUAQXo4eCp7ImA9WhRUFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-7882709777887004872</id><published>2012-01-26T22:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T22:47:20.430-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-26T22:47:20.430-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="finances" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="confessions" /><title>When Shopping Sales Isn't Worth It</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;{Written two days ago.}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;The pinstripe black dress pants I am wearing today are too
short. Even though I only wear them with flats, I still have to shimmy them
down my hips a bit so it doesn’t look like I am waiting for a flood. And that
makes the crotch sag a couple inches lower than in should, which makes me look
dowdy overall. And even though I can’t see myself from behind, I am quite
certain these shimmied down pants aren’t doing my derriere any favors. I only
have one pair of flats (I am 5’2”—I wear heals a lot) and they are scuffed
beyond embarrassment. I hate the bottom half of my outfit today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;But I opted for these pants over the black pants I got at
GAP that have such a high waist they go around my ribs (I am 5’2”—I am quite
short-waisted and unless a pair of pants has a very short rise, my ribs are in
a bear hug). They have this rough, denim-ish texture to them that I don’t like.
They are uncomfortable. And they collect every piece of lint and hair in a
five-foot radius. I must keep a lint roller at the ready. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;And those are my two new pairs of pants. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;My older, trustier pairs of black pants both have broken
flies (just wear a long top and no one can tell they aren’t done up, right?).
One has major cuffs, which aren’t flattering to petite shorties like moi. And
the other pair is a pinstripe skinny paint—can’t wear that with everything. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;So I have FOUR pairs of black dress pants and I hate them
all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I also have a pair of cream-colored dress pants that are so
ginormous they won’t stay on my body. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Why do I have such terrible pants? I’ll tell you why. It’s
because I shop sales. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Instead of shopping for things that actually fit and
flatter, I shop for the best deal. The cheapskate in me gravitates to the clearance
rack and won’t look at anything else. In this frame of mind “almost fits” is
good enough. At least at the moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;(This phenomenon isn’t limited to pants. I happens a lot
with shoes. About 5 years ago I bought a $60 of leather boots that I wore the
crap out of. They are now scuffed and dumpy looking. I replaced them with a
clearance pair worth $100 but I only paid $6. I hardly ever wear them because I
don’t like them as much. I still long for my $60 old pair.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;And then for the next six months, year, two years, or
however long I last until I break down and buy a new pair, I hate my clothes. I
hate my body. And I kind of hate myself. This hatred bleeds over. And I start
to hate other people. You know, those people with “perfect” bodies and chic
clothes. And then I hate the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;See? Shopping sales is a really, really bad, damaging thing.
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I am going to stop. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;At least when it comes to clothing essentials. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;My motto used to be “Never pay full price for anything.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Time for an addendum. When it comes to clothing essentials
where quality and fit is key, and it’s an item that will get much use, do it
right. Buy the right size. Get it tailored. It’s not just frivolous spending.
It’s an investment in a hate-free world.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And so I went out and bought these at full price:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FR09lGw80tQ/TyI594V-P1I/AAAAAAAAKoI/MEd_PWf2Las/s1600/Maurices+pants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FR09lGw80tQ/TyI594V-P1I/AAAAAAAAKoI/MEd_PWf2Las/s320/Maurices+pants.jpg" width="221" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I love them!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-7882709777887004872?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/o_2KzSEdrOQ_29Eo4oFD5QMYi6U/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/o_2KzSEdrOQ_29Eo4oFD5QMYi6U/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/o_2KzSEdrOQ_29Eo4oFD5QMYi6U/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/o_2KzSEdrOQ_29Eo4oFD5QMYi6U/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/MpeAHrp5Jd0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/7882709777887004872/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=7882709777887004872&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7882709777887004872?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7882709777887004872?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/MpeAHrp5Jd0/when-shopping-sales-isnt-worth-it.html" title="When Shopping Sales Isn't Worth It" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FR09lGw80tQ/TyI594V-P1I/AAAAAAAAKoI/MEd_PWf2Las/s72-c/Maurices+pants.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/when-shopping-sales-isnt-worth-it.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkIDQ3o7eCp7ImA9WhRUFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-3940985283946935000</id><published>2012-01-23T23:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T11:02:52.400-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-25T11:02:52.400-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="motherhood" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jocelyn" /><title>How 'Bout a Post About My Cutie Patootie?</title><content type="html">"How 'bout this one?" Joci says as she hands me a glass bottle of dill.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I take it from her, unscrew the lid, and pretend to shake it in the frying pan, standing so my body blocks Joci from seeing that I am not really adding the spice. I hand the dill back to her and she puts it back on the spice rack.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"How 'bout this one?" Her dexterous little hands pass me a bottle of nutmeg. I repeat my mime.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is a pretty common scene when it's dinner time at my house. Joci loves nothing better than to help me. I will set her on the counter and give her little jobs--sometimes they are pertinent to what I am doing, and sometimes they just keep her occupied safely while I use a sharp knife or stir something boiling.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This winter has been largely snow-free. While it's been nice for driving, it has felt wrong. Today we finally got some snow. Such a pretty snow fall. Tiny sharp flakes that shimmered like cut crystal in the street lights as they fell from the sky, casting prismatic rainbows in the night.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Joci was thrilled. Since it was dark when we got home, I didn't want Joci playing outside. However, I did let her play in the garage where she played with the snow on the car. We made hand prints and giggled. We tasted it and giggled. We threw it and giggled.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4UdGezWLyOI/Tx5H8AxOpkI/AAAAAAAAKmo/-grvqkV5nGU/s1600/January+2012+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4UdGezWLyOI/Tx5H8AxOpkI/AAAAAAAAKmo/-grvqkV5nGU/s320/January+2012+012.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SwemqbuanqE/Tx5IBpacRSI/AAAAAAAAKmw/jMQJCIYBVTI/s1600/January+2012+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SwemqbuanqE/Tx5IBpacRSI/AAAAAAAAKmw/jMQJCIYBVTI/s320/January+2012+014.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ztjSU99uMiU/Tx5II9h7F3I/AAAAAAAAKm4/SJXfpCf3TTM/s1600/January+2012+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ztjSU99uMiU/Tx5II9h7F3I/AAAAAAAAKm4/SJXfpCf3TTM/s320/January+2012+034.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;We love this little outfit. Justin picked it out in New York City. Love the way that the tutu bounces when she walks with her little 2 year old swagger.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xye_5LdYrmY/Tx5IQ25GmRI/AAAAAAAAKnA/pxBmmqhCwWo/s1600/January+2012+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xye_5LdYrmY/Tx5IQ25GmRI/AAAAAAAAKnA/pxBmmqhCwWo/s320/January+2012+040.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Chocolate pudding for dessert.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-39zTxePXy7w/Tx5IY1yQ0gI/AAAAAAAAKnM/MCk5ypZcGek/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-39zTxePXy7w/Tx5IY1yQ0gI/AAAAAAAAKnM/MCk5ypZcGek/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;After a few minutes of unsupervised painting I found this: a blank piece of paper and painted lips and hands.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fy1wMGupd1E/Tx5Ig0jZCeI/AAAAAAAAKnU/gtejyfWVTVc/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fy1wMGupd1E/Tx5Ig0jZCeI/AAAAAAAAKnU/gtejyfWVTVc/s320/007.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;One of Joci's favorite Christmas presents was this set of Disney princess shoes from her grandparents. They come just about everywhere with us. She is pretty OCD about how they go back in their box. It's funny. I get in trouble all the time for putting the "Belles" &amp;nbsp;on the second shelf and the "Cindercrellas" on the first shelf when clearly it should be the other way around.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TgKxDY86Efg/Tx5ImpQTboI/AAAAAAAAKnc/DO7CvgAzVOE/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TgKxDY86Efg/Tx5ImpQTboI/AAAAAAAAKnc/DO7CvgAzVOE/s320/009.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Joci likes to copy Daddy when it comes to shaving (no worries--it's a butter knife)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LSExZaRKRA8/Tx5IuaMW5-I/AAAAAAAAKnk/LjXPTNhJHC0/s1600/January+2012+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LSExZaRKRA8/Tx5IuaMW5-I/AAAAAAAAKnk/LjXPTNhJHC0/s320/January+2012+001.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;I love checking on Joci every night after she falls asleep. There is always a lot of fun evidence of what she does before falling asleep. On this night she had apparently had a birthday party for Santa Claus.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KjqwZ8lU2WA/Tx5I2P9OVSI/AAAAAAAAKns/jAtDJxf3uug/s1600/January+2012+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KjqwZ8lU2WA/Tx5I2P9OVSI/AAAAAAAAKns/jAtDJxf3uug/s320/January+2012+004.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Eating chips and clam dip. Yum.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eqBJfsLqB94/Tx5I38WZjVI/AAAAAAAAKn0/w4KSWoYsnYc/s1600/January+2012+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="238" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eqBJfsLqB94/Tx5I38WZjVI/AAAAAAAAKn0/w4KSWoYsnYc/s320/January+2012+014.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Story time!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vJRBDNmet5c/Tx5I_n2oCnI/AAAAAAAAKoA/kOla6vQHVaU/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vJRBDNmet5c/Tx5I_n2oCnI/AAAAAAAAKoA/kOla6vQHVaU/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+004.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;We do a lot of paint projects with hand prints. I left Joci alone to paint once and found this - forehead prints. :)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This little girl keeps us laughing! We're so lucky to have her in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-3940985283946935000?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vWpG2m9K15PAxI0EtQMAZKNKYvU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vWpG2m9K15PAxI0EtQMAZKNKYvU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vWpG2m9K15PAxI0EtQMAZKNKYvU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vWpG2m9K15PAxI0EtQMAZKNKYvU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/CK8TA4T_bVY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/3940985283946935000/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=3940985283946935000&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/3940985283946935000?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/3940985283946935000?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/CK8TA4T_bVY/how-bout-post-about-my-cutie-patootie.html" title="How 'Bout a Post About My Cutie Patootie?" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4UdGezWLyOI/Tx5H8AxOpkI/AAAAAAAAKmo/-grvqkV5nGU/s72-c/January+2012+012.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-bout-post-about-my-cutie-patootie.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQCSXo4fyp7ImA9WhRUEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-2745438354596359586</id><published>2012-01-19T19:42:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T19:42:48.437-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-19T19:42:48.437-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="finances" /><title>Women, Take Control of Your Cash!</title><content type="html">&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I recently wrote an &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-i-improved-my-finances-by-17k-last.html"&gt;update about our financial journey&lt;/a&gt;. As I
have blogged about before, I think transparency in finances is really
important. It gives us more knowledge and more education for our own financial
decisions, which only gives us more power. Money is like fire—a very important
and useful tool, but when it’s out of control, it can be very destructive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A7gOYUHq6oI/TxjUN966UfI/AAAAAAAAKmY/HB9Eox3N2lI/s1600/Fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A7gOYUHq6oI/TxjUN966UfI/AAAAAAAAKmY/HB9Eox3N2lI/s320/Fire.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt;"&gt;The Huffington Post cited a &lt;a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/01/04/women-and-money-management-learnvest-personal-finance_n_1184610.html?ref=women"&gt;survey&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;posed specifically at women. Seventy-six percent of the
survey respondents feel out of control with their money. Ouch! That’s a lot of
big, destructive fires raging.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;


&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I feel quite in control right now and it is the BEST FEELING
EVER. I prefer this feeling to the feeling of a new pair of boots or a new
expensive toy. I get a high off this feeling. I no longer feel left out because I
don’t own a flat screen TV. I am constantly stoked by my financial control and
progress. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;According to the article, people make six to ten financial
decisions every day. That’s six to ten opportunities to stoke the raging fire
or six to ten opportunities to feel in control. My high school economics class
taught me how to write a check, how interest accumulates, how the stock market
works, and how much the teacher really liked football (it seems like high
school coaches always teach economics or history, right?).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I didn’t really learn the ins and outs of daily expenses. I
didn’t learn it in college either. My parents gave me a fighting chance, but I
am not sure they always felt in control of their finances either. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;So I am fighting for control. I am fighting to spread
knowledge so others can get control too. Especially women. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msmoney.com/mm/financial_health/msm_finhealth/women_money.htm"&gt;This article&lt;/a&gt; about women and money had some
really interesting facts about how women’s financial needs are different than
men’s. Let me paraphrase a few.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Women live longer than men, so they need TWENTY PERCENT more money for their golden years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;On average, women earn 25% less than men.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Because of time taken off to care for children and ailing
parents, women take off approximately 11 years more from work than men.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Because women work less and earn less, their social security
benefits are about half of men’s.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Almost 1 in 4 women are broke within two months of a husband
passing away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Over 75% of all women will be widowed. The average age of
becoming a widow? 56.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Eighty-seven percent of poverty-stricken elderly are women.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;


























&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I was shocked by these statistics. When it comes to finances,
women have an uphill battle. It’s seems scary, but knowledge is power. It’s the
truth, and just because you ignore doesn’t make it go away. The best you can do
is learn the truth, educate yourself, and grab a fire extinguisher and take
control. Money is power—make sure it’s in your hands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Normally, I kind of roll my eyes when someone has seven
different blogs for every aspect of their life. I roll it all into this one.
But&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I've&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;thought about creating one strictly about finances. What do you think?
Would you be interested in something like that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-2745438354596359586?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ECCKV2HRVgNASt9Z65-wwR6OhlQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ECCKV2HRVgNASt9Z65-wwR6OhlQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ECCKV2HRVgNASt9Z65-wwR6OhlQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ECCKV2HRVgNASt9Z65-wwR6OhlQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/tkjW_GkTQKs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/2745438354596359586/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=2745438354596359586&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/2745438354596359586?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/2745438354596359586?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/tkjW_GkTQKs/women-take-control-of-your-cash.html" title="Women, Take Control of Your Cash!" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A7gOYUHq6oI/TxjUN966UfI/AAAAAAAAKmY/HB9Eox3N2lI/s72-c/Fire.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/women-take-control-of-your-cash.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4NR3oyfSp7ImA9WhRVF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-7350866262188919827</id><published>2012-01-16T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T00:06:36.495-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-17T00:06:36.495-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adoption" /><title>Racism in Adoption</title><content type="html">As a hopeful adoptive parent, I am constantly researching new ways to network to increase our chances of finding our baby. I am listed with an adoption agency, but I check out other agencies and adoption networking sites all the time to see if it would benefit me to use them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are a few--quite a few, to be honest--that cross a line I am not willing to cross. The have a fundamental flaw in their business that I cannot overlook. Plenty of Lifetime movies paint adoptive parents as so desperate for a baby they will do anything, absolutely anything no matter how despicable, for a baby.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Not true of me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So what is the deal breaker for me?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Different adoption prices for different races.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As much as we all want to believe that we live in a "post-racist" society with a black/biracial President and black Oscar winners, and black billionaires, and whatever else, it is obvious that racism is alive and well if an agency can charge a premium for a white baby (or alternatively, offer a deep discount for a black baby in order to entice business).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Justin and I are open to adopt from all races. I could look at opportunities like this and say, "Hey! This is great! I have no problem adopting an African American baby and we can save money. Win/win!" But I just can't. I refuse to support any agency that has a fee schedule based on the color of a baby's skin.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I get that people have preferences and limitations. I get that racism exists on an individual level. But it's flabbergasting that in today's world, blatant racism--with a price tag attached--exists on a corporate level. That businesses build racism into how it makes money. Why can't they charge the same price and if individuals have issue with children of certain races, they can pass up potential matches? (Actually, plenty of agencies work this way, too. I only list with agencies that have the same price for all matches.) I get the whole "supply and demand" aspect of doing business. But these are people. &lt;i&gt;Babies&lt;/i&gt;. Not dress socks. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It makes me fume.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By the way, happy Martin Luther King, Jr., Day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-7350866262188919827?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mwdWaj1MJ5xaXSGgmR77MK-7JB8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mwdWaj1MJ5xaXSGgmR77MK-7JB8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mwdWaj1MJ5xaXSGgmR77MK-7JB8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mwdWaj1MJ5xaXSGgmR77MK-7JB8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/lHidrr1nzK4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/7350866262188919827/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=7350866262188919827&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7350866262188919827?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7350866262188919827?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/lHidrr1nzK4/racism-in-adoption.html" title="Racism in Adoption" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><thr:total>8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/racism-in-adoption.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QHR347fyp7ImA9WhRVGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-470727147093926897</id><published>2012-01-16T19:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T18:48:56.007-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-17T18:48:56.007-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adoption" /><title>Adoption Update: Profile Is Active</title><content type="html">I realized I haven't given an adoption update in a little while. Last time I wrote about it, we were still &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/11/still-waiting-to-begin-waiting.html"&gt;waiting to get on the waiting list&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We officially got on the waiting list in early December. Getting our profile together has been slow going. The holidays fell upon us and time seemed to vanish. I did work on the copy though and hired a professional designer to design my profile. We did this last time too. It will end up looking like a short catalog. I love how they turn out. Totally worth a little extra cash - our agency uses our old one as an example all the time. Anyway, I got the copy to the designer and of course she was busy with holidays and with work and all. I haven't been rushing it though. Last time our profile wasn't even shown for six months so I figured it was okay not to rush it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last Friday I got a call from my caseworker Cara. "Where is your profile? I have someone I want to show it to." Oops. I talked with the designer and she got me an electronic file on Monday so I could email a PDF to Cara on Monday. I finally stopped dragging my feet and comparing my life to &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-adopting-is-like-bachelor.html"&gt;The Bachelor&lt;/a&gt; and got my online profile ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9DSW8bBIVig/TxTbn3gQWvI/AAAAAAAAKmI/L294p-44cPo/s1600/8x10+Family+Interacting_HR_S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="256" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9DSW8bBIVig/TxTbn3gQWvI/AAAAAAAAKmI/L294p-44cPo/s320/8x10+Family+Interacting_HR_S.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;After lots of stressing, I chose to put this picture on our online profile because it is our favorite. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://adoptanewbeginning.org/adoptive-parent-profiles.htm"&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt; and scroll to the bottom. So pretty, right? :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I still had some changes to my physical profile, so while the agency has a PDF, I still made a few revisions. Soon the designer will finalize those changes and I will get the profiles printed and sent off to the agency.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I've been giving pass along cards to anyone who will take them. I handed a bunch out at church yesterday. Do you want some? :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last week a high school friend messaged me on Facebook and asked if it was okay if she shared my information with her brother-in-law who is an adoption attorney. I said yes. Friday, I got a call from him and he explained how he facilitates adoptions. Sounds good! So he is going to share our info with the potential birth mothers he comes across as well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So even though nothing has really happened, there has been some buzz in our home lately and we are excited.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-470727147093926897?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IXhMe0M0IEug6t4F-kRBSM0hWv0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IXhMe0M0IEug6t4F-kRBSM0hWv0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IXhMe0M0IEug6t4F-kRBSM0hWv0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IXhMe0M0IEug6t4F-kRBSM0hWv0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/1Q4j8DjENLQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/470727147093926897/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=470727147093926897&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/470727147093926897?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/470727147093926897?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/1Q4j8DjENLQ/adoption-update-profile-is-active.html" title="Adoption Update: Profile Is Active" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9DSW8bBIVig/TxTbn3gQWvI/AAAAAAAAKmI/L294p-44cPo/s72-c/8x10+Family+Interacting_HR_S.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/adoption-update-profile-is-active.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEENQn4yeSp7ImA9WhRVFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-7933941874791573033</id><published>2012-01-13T19:04:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-13T19:04:53.091-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-13T19:04:53.091-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="giveaway" /><title>Brightly Beams Give Away Winner</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J25-GCetwd0/TxDioRvpzMI/AAAAAAAAKlw/T1aiFA-_gm0/s1600/Banner+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="42" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J25-GCetwd0/TxDioRvpzMI/AAAAAAAAKlw/T1aiFA-_gm0/s320/Banner+.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And the winner of the Come What May and Love It print from Brightly Beams give away is Meagan S. Congratulations!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_-lnoPfemV8/TxDitnR4VXI/AAAAAAAAKl4/Z8EFkemxiyM/s1600/framed+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_-lnoPfemV8/TxDitnR4VXI/AAAAAAAAKl4/Z8EFkemxiyM/s320/framed+.jpg" width="250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'll be in touch to get it sent out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For everyone who didn't win, remember you can get 20% off by using the code TAKE20OFF&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-7933941874791573033?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jGgfHiBgsCNRTIYwuRE799fOiNI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jGgfHiBgsCNRTIYwuRE799fOiNI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jGgfHiBgsCNRTIYwuRE799fOiNI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jGgfHiBgsCNRTIYwuRE799fOiNI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/Ez-WFTizgSM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/7933941874791573033/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=7933941874791573033&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7933941874791573033?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7933941874791573033?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/Ez-WFTizgSM/brightly-beams-give-away-winner.html" title="Brightly Beams Give Away Winner" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J25-GCetwd0/TxDioRvpzMI/AAAAAAAAKlw/T1aiFA-_gm0/s72-c/Banner+.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/brightly-beams-give-away-winner.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8BR389eip7ImA9WhRVE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-7851625653141989466</id><published>2012-01-11T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T23:14:16.162-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-11T23:14:16.162-07:00</app:edited><title>Memory Lane Through the Eyes of My Checkbook</title><content type="html">Justin rustled up an old checkbook register last night. It was from the first year of our marriage and it brought back so many memories. I am surprised by how we spent our money revealed. Here are a few lines:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
4/06/2002 &amp;nbsp;Desert View Animal Hospital &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; $25.00 &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; We had taken our new puppy to get her shots&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
4/06/2002 &amp;nbsp;Conoco Gas Station &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;$15.07 &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;A tank of gas&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
4/19/2002 &amp;nbsp;Deposit &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; $143.96 &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Wow - we made next to nothing&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
4/19/2002 &amp;nbsp;Movie Theater - Scorpion King $12.50 &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; One movie ticket costs this much now&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
4/30/2002 &amp;nbsp;Wal-Mart - Friends Season 1 &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;$69.72 &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;These were VHS. We always splurged on &lt;/i&gt;Friends. &lt;i&gt;This was half a paycheck!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
5/09/2002 &amp;nbsp;Dell Financial Services &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; $150.00 &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Our first computer. It was nice!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
5/12/2002 Wal-Mart &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;$12.29 &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;I wish I only spent this much at Wal-Mart today!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
5/15/2002 Grand America Hotel &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; $283.00 &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;We spent our first anniversary at the nicest hotel&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
5/20/2002 Chesbro's Justin &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; $8.30 &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;A gift for Justin's 22nd birthday&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
6/06/2002 MCI Phone card recharge &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;$14.75 &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; We always used a calling card - no cell phones&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
6/06/2002 Deposit for our Malibu &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; $40.00 &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;The deposit on our first car&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
6/25/2002 U-Haul &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;$94.34 &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Our move from Wyoming to University of Idaho&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
7/16/2002 HF 37 hair growth &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;$55.99 &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;A dumb purchase on pills to make my hair grow&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
8/05/2002 rent &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;$430.00 &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;First time we ever paid rent. It was a crap hole&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
8/15/2002 deposit &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; $429.90 &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; A great&amp;nbsp;commission&amp;nbsp;paycheck from my sales job&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These memories of our first year of marriage are precious. I wish I could still fill up my gas tank for $15. I wish my household needs (and my self-discipline) allowed me to only spend $12 a week at Wal-Mart. But I am glad my paychecks are a little bit bigger than they were back then. :P&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OfCmdt_qhSI/Tw509YpLAmI/AAAAAAAAKlQ/ChoOh7z1Nso/s1600/Into+the+Woods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="232" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OfCmdt_qhSI/Tw509YpLAmI/AAAAAAAAKlQ/ChoOh7z1Nso/s320/Into+the+Woods.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Justin (on the far right) performing in &lt;/i&gt;Into the Woods&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;in 2002&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UXhQ1FSeu44/Tw51JsKsyaI/AAAAAAAAKlY/6IdH8ooOtIU/s1600/Justin%2527s+22nd+birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UXhQ1FSeu44/Tw51JsKsyaI/AAAAAAAAKlY/6IdH8ooOtIU/s320/Justin%2527s+22nd+birthday.jpg" width="214" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Justin's 22nd birthday&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tH25Wlzww2A/Tw51ORLAabI/AAAAAAAAKlg/EWY3OsPRwgs/s1600/Justin+shaving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="259" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tH25Wlzww2A/Tw51ORLAabI/AAAAAAAAKlg/EWY3OsPRwgs/s320/Justin+shaving.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Justin shaving for his first job in Moscow, Idaho, at McDonald's, 2002&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NLv3GwEEUgc/Tw51SRsbXGI/AAAAAAAAKlo/XGZDpNS6M2E/s1600/U+of+I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NLv3GwEEUgc/Tw51SRsbXGI/AAAAAAAAKlo/XGZDpNS6M2E/s320/U+of+I.jpg" width="216" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;On campus at the University of Idaho 2002&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(What the heck am I wearing? Cropped pants with socks?)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For some reason, the memories this checkbook register bring back are different than those jogged by a picture. I guess because they are hidden...forgotten. It was a fun trip down memory lane. Not one that will likely be repeated since I don't really keep a check register anymore.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah, the good old days.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-7851625653141989466?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/STU-9bEaXEQQmCooXGVjeYtXMi0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/STU-9bEaXEQQmCooXGVjeYtXMi0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/STU-9bEaXEQQmCooXGVjeYtXMi0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/STU-9bEaXEQQmCooXGVjeYtXMi0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/ScUhUalL9BA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/7851625653141989466/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=7851625653141989466&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7851625653141989466?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7851625653141989466?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/ScUhUalL9BA/memory-lane-through-eyes-of-my.html" title="Memory Lane Through the Eyes of My Checkbook" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OfCmdt_qhSI/Tw509YpLAmI/AAAAAAAAKlQ/ChoOh7z1Nso/s72-c/Into+the+Woods.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/memory-lane-through-eyes-of-my.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAAQX86eSp7ImA9WhRVEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-7886057266736479519</id><published>2012-01-09T22:51:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T13:35:40.111-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-10T13:35:40.111-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="giveaway" /><title>Brightly Beams Print Give Away</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--Q1Nq8JNMp0/TwxmRPyS5mI/AAAAAAAAKk4/VzXES2YIP5U/s1600/Banner+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="42" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--Q1Nq8JNMp0/TwxmRPyS5mI/AAAAAAAAKk4/VzXES2YIP5U/s320/Banner+.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;span style="text-align: left;"&gt;I love decorating my home in stylish things that have personal meaning to me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/people/brightlybeamsprints"&gt;Brightly Beams Prints&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;has the coolest, artistic prints that have meaning. Love them!! When I had the chance to do a give away, I had a hard time choosing which print to give one of my readers. But I finally decided on this one:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H8Esd9QLvzs/TwxmVmgFlHI/AAAAAAAAKlA/E9BvE5bVGnU/s1600/Print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H8Esd9QLvzs/TwxmVmgFlHI/AAAAAAAAKlA/E9BvE5bVGnU/s320/Print.jpg" width="255" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
I love this quote by Joseph B. Wirthlin.&amp;nbsp;In his &lt;a href="http://lds.org/general-conference/2008/10/come-what-may-and-love-it?lang=eng"&gt;talk&lt;/a&gt;, Elder Worthlin explained further:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The way we react to adversity&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;can be a major factor in how happy and how&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;successful we can be in life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;
So true!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;
Trials plague us all. No way around it. But finding a way to embrace our trial-pocked life, paste on a smile, and learn to genuinely laugh during this crazy ride makes such a difference.&amp;nbsp;I'm learning this. I am a big, big cheerleader for positive thinking (and my degree is psychology so I am an expert!).&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3jM5S1JEa_8/TwxmbQgCsSI/AAAAAAAAKlI/ncsg_3RUHUg/s1600/framed+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3jM5S1JEa_8/TwxmbQgCsSI/AAAAAAAAKlI/ncsg_3RUHUg/s320/framed+.jpg" width="250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Love the monochromatic look in the white frame (frame not included).&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
If you want to enter the give away for this custom-designed print, here's what you do;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Leave me a comment with your email address and tell me your favorite meat/meat dish.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For additional entries:&lt;br /&gt;
Share this give away on Facebook and leave me a comment telling me you did so.&lt;br /&gt;
Follow my blog and leave me a comment telling me you're a follower.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will take entries until 8:00 a.m. Friday the 13th (oooh, spooky) and announce the winner later that day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Annnnnnd...there is some really good news for all my readers. If you don't win, you can still score big because Brightly Beams has given me a code to share with all of you for 20% off! Just type in the code TAKE20OFF for your exclusive savings.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat repeat; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-7886057266736479519?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ETOPAn9pTU0yeV7hTZQTdwtsKHU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ETOPAn9pTU0yeV7hTZQTdwtsKHU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ETOPAn9pTU0yeV7hTZQTdwtsKHU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ETOPAn9pTU0yeV7hTZQTdwtsKHU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/9zszE2lFNWU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/7886057266736479519/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=7886057266736479519&amp;isPopup=true" title="13 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7886057266736479519?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7886057266736479519?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/9zszE2lFNWU/brightly-beams-print-give-away.html" title="Brightly Beams Print Give Away" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--Q1Nq8JNMp0/TwxmRPyS5mI/AAAAAAAAKk4/VzXES2YIP5U/s72-c/Banner+.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>13</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/brightly-beams-print-give-away.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUGR3w5eCp7ImA9WhRVEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-1302751262926711490</id><published>2012-01-07T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T11:43:46.220-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-08T11:43:46.220-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="finances" /><title>How I Improved My Finances by $17k Last Year</title><content type="html">&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
Last fall my husband and I &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-money-goals.html"&gt;began the Dave Ramsey Total Money Makeover&lt;/a&gt;. We mapped out our debts and our discretionary income and found some
wiggle room. We planned to have all our commercial debt paid off by the end of
2011. I’ll be honest, that&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;happen. But we did pay off 70% of it. I am
still really proud of that. So I wanted to illustrate what we did, what went
wrong, and what went right.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;We got $1,000 in the
bank in less than a month.&lt;/b&gt; When it came to our extra money, we would spread
it out among our financial needs—an extra $20 to savings, an extra $50 on a
credit card, an extra $15 on a different credit card, etc. Our savings seemed
to hover around the $500 range. I always wanted it to be more but I wasn’t sure
how to make it happen. We focused our attention on getting our account to $1,000
in four weeks. We did it! &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;We refinanced our
house.&lt;/b&gt; In November 2010, we dropped nearly 3% of our interest rate on our
house payment by refinancing (too bad we didn’t wait a year—the rates are so
good now! Haha). We were excited to have close to $200 extra to put toward our
efforts.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Next, we paid our
lowest debt.&lt;/b&gt; Our Discover card had the lowest balance of any of our debts. Since
we weren’t spreading out our extra money in five different directions, we
wacked it out pretty fast. Even though this wasn’t our highest interest debt,
it had the lowest balance so we could get a taste of success fast. It helped a
lot. We continued paying off our debts, focusing on the lowest balance. We
“snowballed” the minimum payments of debts we had already paid off and kept
putting our extra in one place. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Surprise expenses.&lt;/b&gt;
A month after we refinanced our house, Justin got a sizeable pay cut. The money
we saved from our refinance went right back into our budget instead of being
“extra.” While it was frustrating not to have the “extra” we were hoping for,
it worked out okay so we weren’t struggling after a significant pay cut. Some
other surprises: Justin had unexpected surgery; both our cars needed new tires
within a month; my car needed several expensive repairs all at once; Justin had
an MRI for a medical issue; and we had to buy a new window for my daughter’s
room. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QvwQUF-ORLM/Twk5Jb_nRUI/AAAAAAAAKkg/cevoYlIU_fg/s1600/Phone+Pictures+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QvwQUF-ORLM/Twk5Jb_nRUI/AAAAAAAAKkg/cevoYlIU_fg/s320/Phone+Pictures+016.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Justin's surgery in February&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
In July, I won a trip to &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/10/our-first-two-days-in-new-york-city.htmlhttp://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/10/our-first-two-days-in-new-york-city.html"&gt;New York City&lt;/a&gt;. While a lot of the
expenses were part of the winnings, food and spending money were not included.
So, we saved up for that. It’s the first trip in a while where we haven’t put a penny
on a credit card, so even though it derailed our pay down efforts, we felt
financially successful. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jjbytIIo494/Twk5nEB384I/AAAAAAAAKko/tfAPhxNlI-E/s1600/New+York+083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jjbytIIo494/Twk5nEB384I/AAAAAAAAKko/tfAPhxNlI-E/s320/New+York+083.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;In Central Park&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
Also, we felt it was time to &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/07/wordless-wednesday-almost.html"&gt;start our adoption process again&lt;/a&gt;, even though we didn’t plan on doing it until 2012. So we spent a good
chunk of change on the homestudy, program application, etc. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Two steps forward,
one step back.&lt;/b&gt; Our surprise expenses set us back about $10,000. Three
times, we used our $1,000 savings reserve and had to build it up again. I was
glad to have it there, though. It’s funny; I hate spending that reserve. I
would rather swipe my credit card than touch my precious savings, so I had to
remind myself &lt;i&gt;that’s why it’s there&lt;/i&gt;
and I could always build it back up. We did use our credit card for one set of
tires and a little bit of the car repairs, adding on about $2,000. I am madder
about that than anything else because we are obviously going in the wrong direction
if we are accumulating debt. Argh!!! But at least out of $10,000 of surprise
expenses, only $2,000 went on credit. That’s something to be proud of, right? I
think so. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
Our gazelle-like intensity waned after about six months. We
had to fight to get it back at times. I know we could’ve been a little more
passionate and made more progress, but I am pleased with what we have
accomplished, and I am also pleased that we could still enjoy good things in
life like the unexpected trip to New York—we didn’t scrimp on that. We could have,
but we decided to take advantage of possibly the only time we would go there.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
In the end, we paid down $17,000 worth of debt: our Discover
card, a line of credit (adoption), two 401k loans (adoption), and both of &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-latest-possession-clue-it-has-four.html"&gt;our cars&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OKr2MDyntwM/Twk6BAvDitI/AAAAAAAAKkw/Jl0WJJvLl9s/s1600/August+2011+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OKr2MDyntwM/Twk6BAvDitI/AAAAAAAAKkw/Jl0WJJvLl9s/s320/August+2011+018.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;My car - officially mine&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Our next step in 2012
is expanding our savings. &lt;/b&gt;I know, I know, Dave Ramsey says don’t worry
about having more the $1,000 in savings until all commercial debts are paid
off. BUT…we need more money to pay for an adoption and a maternity leave. We &lt;i&gt;will&lt;/i&gt; accumulate debt this year because
of the adoption. There is no way around it for us. But hopefully it won’t be
the entire adoption like it was last time. Oh, and Justin applied for a student
loan repayment program that will hopefully pay off his grad loans sometime this
year which will be heavenly. Another child will definitely hit our
discretionary income, but since we no longer have car payments and credit card
payments, the new expense should actually be fairly manageable. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
So, here’s to a profitable 2012!&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4651857003931160591" name="_GoBack"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-1302751262926711490?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aEcj_B2RzpiOmjM1D6kN2i_awVI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aEcj_B2RzpiOmjM1D6kN2i_awVI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aEcj_B2RzpiOmjM1D6kN2i_awVI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aEcj_B2RzpiOmjM1D6kN2i_awVI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/mPLxmL9hbGM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/1302751262926711490/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=1302751262926711490&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/1302751262926711490?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/1302751262926711490?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/mPLxmL9hbGM/how-i-improved-my-finances-by-17k-last.html" title="How I Improved My Finances by $17k Last Year" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QvwQUF-ORLM/Twk5Jb_nRUI/AAAAAAAAKkg/cevoYlIU_fg/s72-c/Phone+Pictures+016.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-i-improved-my-finances-by-17k-last.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8HSHo8cCp7ImA9WhRVF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-8251453926036562442</id><published>2012-01-05T21:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T09:20:39.478-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-16T09:20:39.478-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adoption" /><title>Pass Along Card Guest Post by Brittany</title><content type="html">If you got a Christmas card from my family, you got a handful of pass-along cards with instructions to pass them along to clergy, doctors, lawyers, or anyone else who may regularly come across women with unplanned pregnancies that might think about adoption. I also said to keep at least one in your wallet just in case a conversation ever comes up.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's important for us to spread the word any way possible because about half of all adoptions happen by word of mouth referrals rather than getting matched at an agency. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Not sure if something like this can work? Meet &lt;a href="http://queandbrittany.blogspot.com/"&gt;Brittany&lt;/a&gt;; a friend who I have not had the pleasure of meeting in real life yet. Here is her story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
********************************************&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When my husband and I were going through years of infertility trials, we kept it a secret.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When we started looking into adoption, we kept it a secret.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When we went to our adoption classes and found out that we needed the help of our family and friends to make our adoption happen, we panicked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You wouldn’t know it by reading my blog now, but back then, I was very reserved. We were going through a very isolating, heartbreaking and private trial. I didn’t want everyone “knowing my business.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There was a time when I pictured us walking into church one day with a baby. And that was how I was going to tell our congregation we had adopted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Finding out we had to tell people was frightening. It meant everyone would knoweverything. (At that point we had told our parents that we were looking into adoption, but got a prickly reception from a few of them. The thought of telling more people and risking that kind of reaction was something I was not looking forward to.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, no no. I was going to be the one who, after getting our profile up on &lt;a href="http://itsaboutlove.org/"&gt;itsaboutlove.org&lt;/a&gt;, would be quickly chosen by a birth mom. Itsaboutlove was how we were going to be found.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As with many things in my life, the Lord had a different plan for me than what I did. A better plan.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A few months after the adoption classes I was getting more adjusted to the idea of telling people. I had also started my adoption blog which helped me open up even more. One day I was reading blogs like therhouse and our local FSA blog and I saw posts about Pass Along Cards. I remembered in our classes how they mentioned them and that couples should look into getting some made. The example cards I saw on the blogs were really cute and fun. I thought “What the heck? I might as well.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The problem was, I had no idea how to go about getting Pass Along Cards made.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My friend and neighbor, Jill, had just started up her own business. She was making our Christmas cards that year so I asked her if she could make me some Pass Along Cards. I told her what I wanted, she made some up and I loved them! I decided to throw caution to the wind and send them out in a mass-mailer along with a letter explaining our hope to adopt. (I also put the link to our adoption blog on our Christmas cards.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AppMeNegx-w/TwZrr2g6MPI/AAAAAAAAKkQ/8rOCYrjfQPw/s1600/adoptpassalongcard.blue.queandbrittany.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AppMeNegx-w/TwZrr2g6MPI/AAAAAAAAKkQ/8rOCYrjfQPw/s320/adoptpassalongcard.blue.queandbrittany.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the spring, I gave out some cards to a friend of mine the night we went out together to eat. The next day she went to get her hair done and the topic of adoption came up with her hairstylist. The stylist said her roommate was pregnant and was interested in adoption, so my friend gave her our card. At that time, the pregnant roommate walked into the salon and started talking to my friend. As this was happening, another stylist walked over and said she had gotten a pass along card from her client earlier that day and wanted to give it to the stylist whose roommate was pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was another copy of our card.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The other client was my mom who, unknowingly, went to the same salon that my friend did. And who happened to go in on the same day. And who happened to have the topic of adoption come up. So she gave her stylist our card.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That’s right, our birth mom got 2 copies of our pass along card from 2 separate people on the same day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Do you believe in coincidences? I don’t.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
During the time our birth mom was trying to find prospective couples, she never looked at the couples on itsaboutlove.org once.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Lord knew that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He knew that she wasn’t going to find us unless we put aside our fears and put forth effort and faith to help Him help us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Our birth mom kept our 2 Pass Along Cards in the driver’s license window of her wallet for months. She was meeting with other couples at that time but she said she would look at our picture and think to herself “But I still have to meet Que and Brittany.” And the rest, as they say, is history. &lt;img src="http://www.therhouse.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mIW19RLt5Q4/TwZrgW9OmPI/AAAAAAAAKkE/nAJupgOK5MM/s1600/the+5+of+us+at+the+shower.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mIW19RLt5Q4/TwZrgW9OmPI/AAAAAAAAKkE/nAJupgOK5MM/s320/the+5+of+us+at+the+shower.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Our son’s birth mom, me, my mom, my friend, &amp;amp; her hair stylist. This was taken at a baby shower my friend threw for me and of course, I had to invite our birth mom and her roommate/stylist! –2009&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;We love our son and our birth mom very much and are so grateful for those people in our life who were brave enough to share with others our hope to adopt. Without them (and without Pass Along Cards), we wouldn't be a family!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xlS_FE9TZY0/TwZrXu5-b4I/AAAAAAAAKj4/hdTs6Kyn2Rw/s1600/Que+Brittany+Brie+Liam.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xlS_FE9TZY0/TwZrXu5-b4I/AAAAAAAAKj4/hdTs6Kyn2Rw/s320/Que+Brittany+Brie+Liam.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Brittany, Que, Brie (birth mom) and baby Liam, 2009&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
We are proof that Pass Along Cards work!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*******************************&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And here is our pass along card. I think it turned out super cute.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yW4QAHljY5A/TweckleghgI/AAAAAAAAKkY/8VANapMQ6Kw/s1600/Pass+Along+Card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yW4QAHljY5A/TweckleghgI/AAAAAAAAKkY/8VANapMQ6Kw/s320/Pass+Along+Card.jpg" width="267" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, if you got a few of our cards, now you know what to do. If you would like some of our cards, please leave me a comment with your email address. I'll get in touch with you and send you some. Here are ways to pass them along:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Give them to church leaders&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Give them to family lawyers&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Give them to doctors, hospitals, and clinics&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Give them to counselors and social workers&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Give them to high school teachers/counselors&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Pin them to bulletin boards in the foyers of businesses&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Leave them with the tip when you go out.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Drop one in the envelope when you send a bill payment&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Keep one in your wallet - if the topic ever comes up with ANYONE, show the card&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks for your help! And thanks, Brittany, for sharing your story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-8251453926036562442?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/In7bNqP-vaGeig3DIWD0zQbALjM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/In7bNqP-vaGeig3DIWD0zQbALjM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/In7bNqP-vaGeig3DIWD0zQbALjM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/In7bNqP-vaGeig3DIWD0zQbALjM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/XFHX2Zr6Ngo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/8251453926036562442/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=8251453926036562442&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/8251453926036562442?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/8251453926036562442?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/XFHX2Zr6Ngo/pass-along-card-guest-post-by-brittany.html" title="Pass Along Card Guest Post by Brittany" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AppMeNegx-w/TwZrr2g6MPI/AAAAAAAAKkQ/8rOCYrjfQPw/s72-c/adoptpassalongcard.blue.queandbrittany.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/pass-along-card-guest-post-by-brittany.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8HQnk4cSp7ImA9WhRWFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-2940069619446791253</id><published>2012-01-03T00:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T00:13:53.739-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-03T00:13:53.739-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pop culture" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adoption" /><title>How Adopting Is Like The Bachelor</title><content type="html">Are you ready for another dose of Ben Flajnik?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The past few days I have been writing the copy for our online adoption profile. We have a small space to write something so compelling about our little family that a potential birth mother will want to get to know us more.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's like introduction night on the Bachelor - which I always find painfully awkward. Twenty-five girls file out of limos and have 30 seconds to make an impression - to make Bachelor Ben want to get to know them more. There was the beauty queen who wore her sash, the epidemiology student who gave Ben a squirt of hand sanitizer, the girl who brought her grandmother to introduce her, and the equestrian who rode in on a horse.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HB04WgWtVy4/TwKpp6x32aI/AAAAAAAAKjY/6U7g2NX5wLc/s1600/blindfold+Ben+Flajnik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="223" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HB04WgWtVy4/TwKpp6x32aI/AAAAAAAAKjY/6U7g2NX5wLc/s400/blindfold+Ben+Flajnik.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Let's blindfold Ben and make him guess what I am feeding him. (This girl went home.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They are all going after a hook - something to make Ben remember them and hopefully seek them out for further conversation despite the distracting sea of extensions, cleavages, glittering dresses, fake tans, and triple coats of mascara.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So that's me...trying to make enough of an impression to stand out in the sea of other picture perfect families, all of which are "stable," "married to their best friend," "love to travel," and "love adoption." It's probably true for all of us, but how do you stand out when all the voices are saying the same thing?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So Ben mingles with the women at the cocktail party. He'll hand out roses to the fifteen women he wants to get to know for another week and send ten home immediately. Lots of girls want the ultimate prize of a Neil Lane engagement ring and more smarmy publicity than they ever dreamed...but for now the girls are just focused on getting one rose to put them through to the next round.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Same with the hopeful adoptive couples online. Sure, we all want to bring home a baby in the end but for now, I just want a potential birth mom to want to see more about us. Click on our blog link. Ask to see our physical profile. Just give me one more rose.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now it's time for the rose ceremony. Did the gimmicks work? Well, the equestrian girl who rode in on a horse got the first impression rose. Plus one in the gimmick column. However, it was more than obvious that when Ben sat and talked to her, they had undeniable chemistry. He definitely saw beyond the gimmick. But without the gimmick, would he have even remembered her enough among the 24 other women?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ibz6iUy-VsQ/TwKp4CCKQlI/AAAAAAAAKjs/hvZOqd4EJjc/s1600/Connection+with+Ben+Flajnik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="223" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ibz6iUy-VsQ/TwKp4CCKQlI/AAAAAAAAKjs/hvZOqd4EJjc/s400/Connection+with+Ben+Flajnik.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Obvious chemistry, despite the&amp;nbsp;horseback riding&amp;nbsp;gimmick.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He kept a few women I certainly wouldn't have. He sent a few home that I most definitely would have kept around. I really liked the quirky British girl. Ben didn't. During her exit interview, though deflated, she said that she is looking for someone who loves her for who she is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Getting matched with a birth mother is the same in so many ways. I could fake my profile - write about how much money we have (ha!), how our children will go to amazing private schools and have personal nannies and summer in the Hamptons. I could hide my affinity for nerdy, cult TV shows and trashy celebrity gossip. I could pretend we are much sportier and out-doorsy than we actually are. I could fail to mention the five (yes, FIVE) messy pets in our home. In the end, though, I know a birth mother will love us &lt;i&gt;because&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;of our quirks, not in spite of them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I just want a fair chance. Like so many of the girls who were sent away from Ben on day 1, I just want to feel that the potential birth mother really got to know us before passing on us. And there is no way she can get to know us in a short paragraph online.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So how do I hook a potential birth mom? How do I get just one rose? How do I make sure I am honestly and unabashedly represented so that the birth mom can make an informed decision? How do I keep myself from holding back, building walls, and failing to open up? How do I let her know I am here for the right reasons? Okay...too many Bachelor cliches. Hahaha. I know this is a serious topic, but if you can't poke fun at yourself (and The Bachelor) then what can you have fun with? :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Honestly though...I do feel really, REALLY overwhelmed with trying to write a five sentence blurb about the most important thing in the world--my family--in hopes of getting something I really, really want--another child--and stand out in the sea of others who are doing the exact same thing?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Okay, back to it. I'll get my online profile done one of these days, I swear. In the meantime, here's hoping your favorite contestant got a rose tonight.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-2940069619446791253?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rsqfCNHWvnuU7cJveYNEarysUt0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rsqfCNHWvnuU7cJveYNEarysUt0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rsqfCNHWvnuU7cJveYNEarysUt0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rsqfCNHWvnuU7cJveYNEarysUt0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/HJPSj5YLK1c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/2940069619446791253/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=2940069619446791253&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/2940069619446791253?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/2940069619446791253?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/HJPSj5YLK1c/how-adopting-is-like-bachelor.html" title="How Adopting Is Like The Bachelor" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HB04WgWtVy4/TwKpp6x32aI/AAAAAAAAKjY/6U7g2NX5wLc/s72-c/blindfold+Ben+Flajnik.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-adopting-is-like-bachelor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MMQXo4cSp7ImA9WhRWE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-5848478067880886148</id><published>2011-12-30T23:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T23:04:40.439-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-30T23:04:40.439-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nostalgia" /><title>I Am Glad I Was a Teen Before the Internet</title><content type="html">&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
In the late 90’s when I was in high school, the internet was still obscure. I remember my oldest brother telling me about it, sitting me at his computer and telling me to look something—anything—up. I had no clue what in the world I would ever want to look up online. I was always miffed when teachers required a research paper to include an online reference. Can’t we just use normal books from the library? (A few years later in college, everything changed and we were required to have one book reference and we grumbled about that). My senior year I created an email account and I discovered AOL instant messenger. And now I am an internet junkie. I&amp;nbsp;&lt;i style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;love&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;it and would probably curse my existence if it were ever taken away.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
But thinking about my teenagehood and teenagehood today, I gotta say, I am glad the internet didn’t play such a big part for me during those years.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
I get a little nostalgic when I think about how things happened then.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
When a boy called, it was pretty major. Either he had asked for my phone number (pretty bold!) or he looked me up in the phone book (what fortitude!), paced around for a long little while, his fingers hovering over the touch tone buttons, and finally found the gumption to dial the numbers. We had family phones back then, so most likely one of my parents would have answered. Family rumors would circle&amp;nbsp;&lt;i style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;immediately&lt;/i&gt;. It’s a boy! And he asked for Lara! I’d search for the cordless phone so I could retreat into my bedroom or at least a closet for some privacy. I’d carefully listen for the sound of a sibling (or nosy mother) lifting up another receiver in the house to listen in.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
It was sheer torture when I had to leave the house and not knowing whether or not I would miss a phone call (no caller ID either).&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
Now days, Facebook, texting, email, and other technological advances have made things so much easier. And I think that devalues it a little bit.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
Everyone is friends with everyone on Facebook. Sending a poke or a Facebook message as a way of flirting is so diluted that it loses its affect.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
And don’t get me started on email.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
I had a knack for having long-distance “relationships” as a teen. A guy I met at summer camp. An international pen pal. Crushes sent across the world for 2-year missions. A friend of a friend who lived out of state that I fell for. I have boxes and boxes of handwritten letters. (Yes—&lt;i style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;handwritten&lt;/i&gt;). Because long-distance phone charges still existed back then. Oh the anguish of waiting days and weeks for news from my beau. Oh the exaltation of seeing that envelope in the mailbox, my name carefully printed in his handwriting. Slowly fingering the pages of the letter. Knowing his hand, his pen had touched the paper. Knowing his lips had brushed the envelope as he sealed it. Smelling the paper, sometimes detecting the slight scent of his cologne. Pictures—real printed pictures—a little frayed around the edges falling out of the folds of the paper. Smudges and spills.Crossed out words. So many clues to a far-away love that an email cannot convey.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;
Life was a little more romantic then.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-5848478067880886148?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WL-yVIkDRQqsbiTjbvjn49JVUW0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WL-yVIkDRQqsbiTjbvjn49JVUW0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WL-yVIkDRQqsbiTjbvjn49JVUW0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WL-yVIkDRQqsbiTjbvjn49JVUW0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/cAUtiJXpSj8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/5848478067880886148/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=5848478067880886148&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/5848478067880886148?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/5848478067880886148?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/cAUtiJXpSj8/i-am-glad-i-was-teen-before-internet.html" title="I Am Glad I Was a Teen Before the Internet" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-am-glad-i-was-teen-before-internet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YFRXsyeyp7ImA9WhRWEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-4292604987761304660</id><published>2011-12-28T23:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T23:11:54.593-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-28T23:11:54.593-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="holidays" /><title>Pocket Full of Christmas 2011</title><content type="html">A quick recap of our Christmas holiday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bPyz3jFJIG8/Tvv8tXTPM2I/AAAAAAAAKfg/EldFHvJoz3E/s1600/Gingerbread+house+12-11+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bPyz3jFJIG8/Tvv8tXTPM2I/AAAAAAAAKfg/EldFHvJoz3E/s320/Gingerbread+house+12-11+046.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Trimming the tree. A few days after we put it up, a strand of lights went out. We had to take all the decorations off and replace the strand of lights, then put all the garland and ornaments back on.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7lPnT5VHua8/Tvv81Sh2e0I/AAAAAAAAKfo/O_drx81dEPc/s1600/Gingerbread+house+12-11+055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7lPnT5VHua8/Tvv81Sh2e0I/AAAAAAAAKfo/O_drx81dEPc/s320/Gingerbread+house+12-11+055.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Joci loved making this year's gingerbread house. See my gingerbread tutorial &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/11/gingerbread-house-tutorial-and-recipe.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nZtgD0mw8rs/Tvv88IhkxbI/AAAAAAAAKfw/B9qDWdYzkN0/s1600/Gingerbread+house+12-11+072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nZtgD0mw8rs/Tvv88IhkxbI/AAAAAAAAKfw/B9qDWdYzkN0/s320/Gingerbread+house+12-11+072.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W_Z7GxilRW0/Tvv9F6zhHoI/AAAAAAAAKf8/QaWpv61_H4I/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W_Z7GxilRW0/Tvv9F6zhHoI/AAAAAAAAKf8/QaWpv61_H4I/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+012.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Last year I bought this foam tree with foam stickers for Joci to decorate and I forgot to have her do it. She loved it this year - and probably had a lot more fun than she would have a year ago.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QjmH7iELO00/Tvv9PCj3SqI/AAAAAAAAKgE/t5j1AeKzf4A/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QjmH7iELO00/Tvv9PCj3SqI/AAAAAAAAKgE/t5j1AeKzf4A/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+017.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Our tree. We "flocked" it with snow in a can (I could not find real flocking anywhere) but since we had to remove all the decorations and then decorate it again, a lot of the "snow" flaked off. We were left with kind of a blue spruce look instead of a snow-white look, but it's still a nice effect. I love how our tree turned out!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BgwVprcqHr8/Tvv9Yhg8kgI/AAAAAAAAKgM/9zcZlfmvL10/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BgwVprcqHr8/Tvv9Yhg8kgI/AAAAAAAAKgM/9zcZlfmvL10/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+025.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
We filled our ceiling with tinfoil stars. Wrap tinfoil around a straw. Remove the straw. Take 6-8 of the hollow tinfoil tubes, tie them with fishing line, spread out the tinfoil tubes and you get a very cool looking star.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a0vYEaJJ4I0/Tvv9iF6GXeI/AAAAAAAAKgU/YWC5FXtTkeA/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a0vYEaJJ4I0/Tvv9iF6GXeI/AAAAAAAAKgU/YWC5FXtTkeA/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+040.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Our Christmas Eve live Nativity&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mEUvG1JSXAw/Tvv9q-VebBI/AAAAAAAAKgc/N9ZaVzGXkGE/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mEUvG1JSXAw/Tvv9q-VebBI/AAAAAAAAKgc/N9ZaVzGXkGE/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+050.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
My niece Afton was the narrator. She did amazingly well reading all the big words in the Bible.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IEZ_7ZeKxn0/Tvv9yH7UQLI/AAAAAAAAKgo/xxa-E4h52nI/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IEZ_7ZeKxn0/Tvv9yH7UQLI/AAAAAAAAKgo/xxa-E4h52nI/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+054.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Joci as Mary laying Jesus in the manger.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uTqwR_0Xiy8/Tvv95sjPRyI/AAAAAAAAKgw/bU_2Daluxu8/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uTqwR_0Xiy8/Tvv95sjPRyI/AAAAAAAAKgw/bU_2Daluxu8/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+052.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WFngCYIeOWA/Tvv-AGhyJoI/AAAAAAAAKg4/6M5_pxwTLIU/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WFngCYIeOWA/Tvv-AGhyJoI/AAAAAAAAKg4/6M5_pxwTLIU/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+061.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nrTiwSYhBzM/Tvv-HmlZFpI/AAAAAAAAKhA/oTGhdR3C_0M/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nrTiwSYhBzM/Tvv-HmlZFpI/AAAAAAAAKhA/oTGhdR3C_0M/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+056.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
These two cousins fought over EVERYTHING.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OKsnuKkYLuM/Tvv-a-rBlHI/AAAAAAAAKhY/TsiI73q5NO8/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OKsnuKkYLuM/Tvv-a-rBlHI/AAAAAAAAKhY/TsiI73q5NO8/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+057.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
The Christmas angel&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PcsYJq1wlS8/Tvv-RBTjr0I/AAAAAAAAKhM/zcvxg-tWYXs/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PcsYJq1wlS8/Tvv-RBTjr0I/AAAAAAAAKhM/zcvxg-tWYXs/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+070.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Crowns from Christmas crackers&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MNScJlpvqHc/Tvv-izHGICI/AAAAAAAAKhg/yJb5PNsrGjU/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MNScJlpvqHc/Tvv-izHGICI/AAAAAAAAKhg/yJb5PNsrGjU/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+073.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z45HgjoxVUQ/Tvv-snsQ-hI/AAAAAAAAKho/IG5AiDhtYvI/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z45HgjoxVUQ/Tvv-snsQ-hI/AAAAAAAAKho/IG5AiDhtYvI/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+075.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
We tried out a new tradition this year - having a "birthday party" for Jesus. We had candles we sang happy birthday. Hopefully this will help the little kids understand what celebrating Christmas is about.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eYEH9ddkYfE/Tvv-0X9NW-I/AAAAAAAAKhw/gn6F1ipPZTg/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eYEH9ddkYfE/Tvv-0X9NW-I/AAAAAAAAKhw/gn6F1ipPZTg/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+078.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VNo_ySi_Hfc/Tvv-3T15zzI/AAAAAAAAKh8/7kIuJ-eblLY/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="217" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VNo_ySi_Hfc/Tvv-3T15zzI/AAAAAAAAKh8/7kIuJ-eblLY/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+080.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0MtShtAzBC0/Tvv-7vtthfI/AAAAAAAAKiE/iO9Auq9WbCc/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0MtShtAzBC0/Tvv-7vtthfI/AAAAAAAAKiE/iO9Auq9WbCc/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+082.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Opening one present on Christmas Eve.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V3i2Rmb-ovE/Tvv_EAq3rUI/AAAAAAAAKiM/Y7NV5MqZYAw/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V3i2Rmb-ovE/Tvv_EAq3rUI/AAAAAAAAKiM/Y7NV5MqZYAw/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+086.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Princess jammies!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9NqWMWTt7zU/Tvv_N3P-uwI/AAAAAAAAKiU/KvDU2ZPZwVk/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9NqWMWTt7zU/Tvv_N3P-uwI/AAAAAAAAKiU/KvDU2ZPZwVk/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+090.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Christmas morning eggnog in Mom and Dad's bed&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I401Kx07NvQ/Tvv_WVCG2tI/AAAAAAAAKic/G2hmsQ5M9jw/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I401Kx07NvQ/Tvv_WVCG2tI/AAAAAAAAKic/G2hmsQ5M9jw/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+093.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Joci got a kitchen!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SzefACaZ8hM/Tvv_gFNU8lI/AAAAAAAAKio/FveQ-NrT34I/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SzefACaZ8hM/Tvv_gFNU8lI/AAAAAAAAKio/FveQ-NrT34I/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+095.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Ready to open presents! (Notice the new jammies - as soon as she opened them she &lt;i&gt;had&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;to put them on)&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cFLx3LrI2yw/Tvv_ow-Hu2I/AAAAAAAAKiw/qU8VMriTCKE/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cFLx3LrI2yw/Tvv_ow-Hu2I/AAAAAAAAKiw/qU8VMriTCKE/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+097.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Fun hats from Grandma. Grandma even crocheted the blue one on Justin's head.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tvEPjQl7boA/Tvv_xxqxW4I/AAAAAAAAKi4/YgGXvPb2zK8/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tvEPjQl7boA/Tvv_xxqxW4I/AAAAAAAAKi4/YgGXvPb2zK8/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+098.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
A riding horse from Grandma and Grandpa. As you can tell from that glowing expression on her face, Joci LOVES her new horsey.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KLtoMEaXY08/Tvv_7Il16iI/AAAAAAAAKjA/AIVE1dCaUIA/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KLtoMEaXY08/Tvv_7Il16iI/AAAAAAAAKjA/AIVE1dCaUIA/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+103.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Another favorite gift - Joci's very own nail polish. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DkEHtqt5rwk/TvwAD1GR-UI/AAAAAAAAKjI/NP_mfXbJ-wg/s1600/Christmas+Dec+2011+105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DkEHtqt5rwk/TvwAD1GR-UI/AAAAAAAAKjI/NP_mfXbJ-wg/s320/Christmas+Dec+2011+105.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Joci got several baby dolls. She particularly enjoys her twin babies.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-4292604987761304660?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OD09GjxcKt6AMlQnHrcV40VYVLA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OD09GjxcKt6AMlQnHrcV40VYVLA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OD09GjxcKt6AMlQnHrcV40VYVLA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OD09GjxcKt6AMlQnHrcV40VYVLA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/8D7zb_3xsBk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/4292604987761304660/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=4292604987761304660&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/4292604987761304660?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/4292604987761304660?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/8D7zb_3xsBk/pocket-full-of-christmas-2011.html" title="Pocket Full of Christmas 2011" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bPyz3jFJIG8/Tvv8tXTPM2I/AAAAAAAAKfg/EldFHvJoz3E/s72-c/Gingerbread+house+12-11+046.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/pocket-full-of-christmas-2011.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MBQ347eyp7ImA9WhRWEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-7858898446524048438</id><published>2011-12-27T15:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T22:17:32.003-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-27T22:17:32.003-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="motherhood" /><title>Putting Aside Parental Guilt with the Help of My Scanner</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
My little girl is an artist. At least once a day she pulls out her paints and goes to town. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kHr7J029ajI/TvpDXQiYfCI/AAAAAAAAKeQ/Cna7-2GA8R4/s1600/Joci+silliness+0911+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kHr7J029ajI/TvpDXQiYfCI/AAAAAAAAKeQ/Cna7-2GA8R4/s320/Joci+silliness+0911+010.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have dozens of pieces of paper around the house that look like this:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NB__eNA6j3k/TvqlNmwFpAI/AAAAAAAAKec/WZDYwnMk0vU/s1600/painting+on+black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NB__eNA6j3k/TvqlNmwFpAI/AAAAAAAAKec/WZDYwnMk0vU/s320/painting+on+black.jpg" width="231" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6mI-PoXB9ZQ/TvqmHllU5uI/AAAAAAAAKfE/INsym0dK3ks/s1600/painting+on+brown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6mI-PoXB9ZQ/TvqmHllU5uI/AAAAAAAAKfE/INsym0dK3ks/s320/painting+on+brown.jpg" width="231" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_w_ks5QYQc/TvqmKwOpfgI/AAAAAAAAKfM/kYwbnzPlTgw/s1600/painting+on+blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_w_ks5QYQc/TvqmKwOpfgI/AAAAAAAAKfM/kYwbnzPlTgw/s320/painting+on+blue.jpg" width="231" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;Dozens, I tell ya. I am not sure what to do with them all. Quite a few are hung around the house. A few are stacked in piles. A few are painted front and back to reuse paper. I need to get rid of them, but I feel so dang guilty!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XvgQUu1qhRk/TvqlQUDqlmI/AAAAAAAAKek/ThjUVAL5qA0/s1600/painting+on+white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XvgQUu1qhRk/TvqlQUDqlmI/AAAAAAAAKek/ThjUVAL5qA0/s320/painting+on+white.jpg" width="231" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJAZVVBTChw/TvqmOGppPVI/AAAAAAAAKfU/3fVvzDlSUaI/s1600/painting+on+blue1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gJAZVVBTChw/TvqmOGppPVI/AAAAAAAAKfU/3fVvzDlSUaI/s320/painting+on+blue1.jpg" width="231" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
Every parent has a ton of guilt - it is part of the parental package. It may be a&amp;nbsp;bit selfish, but let me go out on a limb and say that adoptive parents have a little bit more. Whenever I am about to throw one of these paintings away, I pause and remember the empty years of yearning for a child. How can I throw her paintings away? It seems like a slap in the face to my former self. And I think of her birth family. They still miss her. They will always have an unending ache for her. I am sure they would walk across hot coals to have all these paintings.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mT5iApi7MIA/TvqlS5DdRrI/AAAAAAAAKes/jEIA5KF7khs/s1600/watercolor+on+white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mT5iApi7MIA/TvqlS5DdRrI/AAAAAAAAKes/jEIA5KF7khs/s320/watercolor+on+white.jpg" width="205" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes I put on a thick skin and just toss some out. But I decided I would compromise. Thanks to my nifty scanner, I have memorialized her paintings in digital format and can feel (a little) less guilty about throwing them out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WEEoHErOy4k/TvqlYh2FrBI/AAAAAAAAKe4/MRnjQcbwrS8/s1600/painting+on+pink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WEEoHErOy4k/TvqlYh2FrBI/AAAAAAAAKe4/MRnjQcbwrS8/s320/painting+on+pink.jpg" width="231" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-7858898446524048438?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CmGKy-zT0YcBDQwsIVbmU1r9Q3U/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CmGKy-zT0YcBDQwsIVbmU1r9Q3U/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CmGKy-zT0YcBDQwsIVbmU1r9Q3U/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CmGKy-zT0YcBDQwsIVbmU1r9Q3U/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/nvPgTA5GPU8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/7858898446524048438/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=7858898446524048438&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7858898446524048438?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7858898446524048438?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/nvPgTA5GPU8/putting-aside-parental-guilt-with-help.html" title="Putting Aside Parental Guilt with the Help of My Scanner" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kHr7J029ajI/TvpDXQiYfCI/AAAAAAAAKeQ/Cna7-2GA8R4/s72-c/Joci+silliness+0911+010.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/putting-aside-parental-guilt-with-help.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQGRnkzeSp7ImA9WhRXF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-4796638487461689780</id><published>2011-12-24T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T11:45:27.781-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-24T11:45:27.781-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="holidays" /><title>Finding Christmas</title><content type="html">Most Christmases, my little family reads a nightly story and scripture as a type of countdown to Christmas. We didn't do that this year. Too much going on. Instead, I read read the New Testament books Matthew through Acts. While I missed my favorite Christmastime stories about giving and loving, my new reading assignment gave me a new perspective on Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The old stories were familiar favorites. The scriptures that when with each story were too. The scriptures generally referred to the miraculous birth, the angels declaring hallelujah, the wise men following the star.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What I read this year chronicled (four times throughout the four gospels) not only the birth but the life, actions, words, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Christmas is the time we celebrate His birth. But what is the point of that? Ultimately, we are celebrating His life.&amp;nbsp;Reading the four gospels and the book of Acts has reminded me what His life and Christmas is really about. A&amp;nbsp;higher way of living, the opportunity to have second chances (and third and fourth and fifth and six thousandth chances), infinite, unconditional love, and the overcoming of physical death.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My favorite story (right now) is found in &lt;a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/nt/john/8?lang=eng"&gt;John 8:3-11&lt;/a&gt;. A woman had been found committing adultery and the Pharisees (a political group) brought her before Jesus. "Now Moses in the law has commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7WjC6-nhxAE/TvYMiU1XIYI/AAAAAAAAKdo/3dk2o4VSYNo/s1600/Christ+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="251" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7WjC6-nhxAE/TvYMiU1XIYI/AAAAAAAAKdo/3dk2o4VSYNo/s320/Christ+woman.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Christ and the woman taken in adultery&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;by Guercino&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As always, the Pharisees were trying to trip up Jesus - to Him to confuse his message of justice and forgiveness.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With such wisdom, Jesus sat quietly, writing in the dust with his finger. When they pressed him again for an answer, He simply stated, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One by one, the crowd dispersed. When Jesus looked up again, He saw that He was alone with the woman. "Woman, where are thine accusers?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She replied, "No man, Lord." And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I love this story. I love that mercy was exercise while the law was upheld. I love that Jesus did not "rescue" the woman, but rather awoke empathy in others and spread the message of mercy. And Jesus so easily forgave such a grave act.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I love everything about this story. To me, it exemplifies my Savior.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My favorite line of one of my favorite Christmas carols comes from O Holy Night:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till he appeared and the soul felt its worth."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I doubt the adulterous woman really knew her worth before her encounter with Christ. None of us really do. His birth isn't the miracle. &lt;i&gt;He&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;is.&amp;nbsp;He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. It is His life that I celebrate today and tomorrow. It is so much more than a miraculous birth in a tiny manger. It is about hope and infinite chances and pure love. He lives today. His message of love, forgiveness, peace, and hope has never changed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eDvQiXZcDPc/TvYMyKtNMrI/AAAAAAAAKd8/U0-0eylBxLE/s1600/Manger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="228" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eDvQiXZcDPc/TvYMyKtNMrI/AAAAAAAAKd8/U0-0eylBxLE/s320/Manger.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Have a beautiful Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-4796638487461689780?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AyYUIz79BVR8E-tKVFp7Lf2S_Cg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AyYUIz79BVR8E-tKVFp7Lf2S_Cg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AyYUIz79BVR8E-tKVFp7Lf2S_Cg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AyYUIz79BVR8E-tKVFp7Lf2S_Cg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/u5PY_Rhz0xg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/4796638487461689780/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=4796638487461689780&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/4796638487461689780?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/4796638487461689780?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/u5PY_Rhz0xg/finding-christmas.html" title="Finding Christmas" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7WjC6-nhxAE/TvYMiU1XIYI/AAAAAAAAKdo/3dk2o4VSYNo/s72-c/Christ+woman.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/finding-christmas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcNRX05fip7ImA9WhRXFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-4174008032300888828</id><published>2011-12-23T01:01:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-23T01:14:54.326-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-23T01:14:54.326-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="holidays" /><title>Christmas Is for Giving In (An Apology in Advance)</title><content type="html">Ask anyone who knows me...I am a sentimental sap. A couple years ago my mother was cleaning out some very old kitchen items - brown Tupperware salt and pepper shakers that must be from the 70's if not the 60's. They look like these:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OkI8XkL8rxY/TvQ1TkFrZuI/AAAAAAAAKdQ/38Cl8mfj5WU/s1600/salt+and+pepper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OkI8XkL8rxY/TvQ1TkFrZuI/AAAAAAAAKdQ/38Cl8mfj5WU/s1600/salt+and+pepper.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"You can't get rid of those! We grew up with those!"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I kept them. They are butt-ugly. I don't use them (well, they remain unused in my camper. They will be my camping salt and pepper shakers). I have nicer, more functional things. But I will not get rid of them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Every family member knows to check with me before throwing something out. An old picture. A ratty quilt. A broken toy. Usually, I want it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My memories are strongly attached to objects, and I am a highly sentimental, sensitive person. That's why it almost literally killed me when my parents moved. I seriously tear up when I think about someone else living in &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;house. Our handprints are in the cement. What if they ever dig up and repour their patio? (I wouldn't want someone else's kid's handprints in my yard - why should they?) The thought gives me chest palpitations.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That brings me to holidays. As you can imagine, I am pretty sentimental about holidays. I like things they way they always have been. I want to use the same spoon, sing the same songs, eat the same thing, do the &lt;i&gt;exact&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;same thing I have done my entire life. It's comforting. For me, these things are the little traditions that I associate with Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Enter marriage.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ten years ago I permanently entwined my life with another person who brought along his own set of expectations, sentiments, and traditions. We have managed to evolve and create some our own traditions. But it gets really tricky when we start adding other people in. Like extended family.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I become this stubborn brat that has to have everything my way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"&lt;i&gt;We &lt;/i&gt;do the big dinner on Christmas Eve, not Christmas day."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"Santa &lt;i&gt;always&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;puts the stockings here."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And it goes on and on. Let me tell ya, I am a real peach to celebrate holidays with.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Growing up, we never shared holidays with extended family. It was just my parents and my brothers and sisters. I guess I really never learned the art of celebratory negotiation. And I am trying to now, I really am.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-He96o4DKgZs/TvQ4RoMx4FI/AAAAAAAAKdc/tAYSrVfXdmg/s1600/Christmastime+2010+113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-He96o4DKgZs/TvQ4RoMx4FI/AAAAAAAAKdc/tAYSrVfXdmg/s320/Christmastime+2010+113.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;It's not Christmas without a live nativity with towels on your head. Christmas 2010.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Some people just don't always seem to care. And I do. Like, a lot. Like, more than I should. And I know that. Christmas isn't really about using the same cranberry dish every year. It won't kill the holiday to eat something different and try a new recipe (ok, I am seriously having a mini anxiety attack as I type this, but I &lt;i&gt;know&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;it is true in my heart, even if my sentimental pea brain is resistant).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So to my ever-accommodating&amp;nbsp;extended family members, please be patient with me. I really am trying. If something doesn't matter to you, perhaps allow me an indulgence. I will do my best not to be so self-centered. I promise to give-in more and complain less. Because Christmas is more about love, sacrifice, and gratitude than the silly things I get hung up on. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-4174008032300888828?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dkxLNcKRJMnNjJsl-m6zCpKD26c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dkxLNcKRJMnNjJsl-m6zCpKD26c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dkxLNcKRJMnNjJsl-m6zCpKD26c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dkxLNcKRJMnNjJsl-m6zCpKD26c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/u2qmc8FTOJU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/4174008032300888828/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=4174008032300888828&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/4174008032300888828?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/4174008032300888828?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/u2qmc8FTOJU/christmas-is-for-giving-in-apology-in.html" title="Christmas Is for Giving In (An Apology in Advance)" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OkI8XkL8rxY/TvQ1TkFrZuI/AAAAAAAAKdQ/38Cl8mfj5WU/s72-c/salt+and+pepper.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-is-for-giving-in-apology-in.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cCQX4_eSp7ImA9WhRXE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-4739616908585010801</id><published>2011-12-20T00:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T00:11:00.041-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-20T00:11:00.041-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="giveaway" /><title>Santa Key Give-Away Winners</title><content type="html">The winners for the two Santa keys are Rachel and Kirsten. I will be in contact with you for your addresses.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks everyone for participating. I wish I had more to give out!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat repeat; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-4739616908585010801?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c8EIw4V9n-yk2A8t7xFqX-YsaLU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c8EIw4V9n-yk2A8t7xFqX-YsaLU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c8EIw4V9n-yk2A8t7xFqX-YsaLU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c8EIw4V9n-yk2A8t7xFqX-YsaLU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/u8gorPV52_M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/4739616908585010801/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=4739616908585010801&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/4739616908585010801?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/4739616908585010801?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/u8gorPV52_M/santa-key-give-away-winners.html" title="Santa Key Give-Away Winners" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/santa-key-give-away-winners.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIMSH8_fSp7ImA9WhRXEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-1171740552588486478</id><published>2011-12-17T22:12:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T00:09:49.145-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-19T00:09:49.145-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="giveaway" /><title>Santa Key Give-Away</title><content type="html">I don't have a chimney in my house. Santa has to be pretty creative to get in here. He's jimmied through the windows, busted the garage door, and even tried to come in through the dryer vent. That one was messy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have been working with the Residential Access department at the North Pole. The customer service manager named Jangles - super nice guy! - sent me some magical Santa keys. I put a little ribbon on them to make them look festive. They poem on them reads:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Dear Santa,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;This magic key works just for you,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Please open the door and come on through.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Thank you for coming to our house tonight.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;We are celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Thank you, Santa, for the gifts you bring.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Thank you, Lord, for everything.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4nStZtMLslc/Tu11P0e5NtI/AAAAAAAAKcs/xRWYvHT70YY/s1600/Santa+key+and+charity+gift+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4nStZtMLslc/Tu11P0e5NtI/AAAAAAAAKcs/xRWYvHT70YY/s320/Santa+key+and+charity+gift+011.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So what do you do with a Santa key? You hang the key on your doorknob outside on Christmas Eve and this magical key allows Santa and only Santa access to your house. The thing is, Jangles gave me a couple extra keys.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I need to give a couple away! And we need to do this fast since Christmas is in a WEEK! A WEEK!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;To Enter the Contest for a Free Santa Key&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
To enter the give-away, leave a comment with your name and email address. I will take entries until midnight Monday. I will announce the winner on the blog and email you for your address. I will need you to respond to my email by Tuesday night so I can get the key in the mail no later than Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JNvoj3MIIQ0/Tu11ZuD9BBI/AAAAAAAAKc4/dhGMP5lnRMc/s1600/Santa+key+and+charity+gift+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JNvoj3MIIQ0/Tu11ZuD9BBI/AAAAAAAAKc4/dhGMP5lnRMc/s320/Santa+key+and+charity+gift+031.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have two keys to give away. Let's get going!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-1171740552588486478?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VBJjLivzk5yDPXTvoFqaky15IPQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VBJjLivzk5yDPXTvoFqaky15IPQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VBJjLivzk5yDPXTvoFqaky15IPQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VBJjLivzk5yDPXTvoFqaky15IPQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/vkEaLV6BzwA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/1171740552588486478/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=1171740552588486478&amp;isPopup=true" title="15 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/1171740552588486478?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/1171740552588486478?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/vkEaLV6BzwA/santa-key-give-away.html" title="Santa Key Give-Away" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4nStZtMLslc/Tu11P0e5NtI/AAAAAAAAKcs/xRWYvHT70YY/s72-c/Santa+key+and+charity+gift+011.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>15</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/santa-key-give-away.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MDRXs-eip7ImA9WhRXEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-6327859357208143423</id><published>2011-12-17T00:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T00:04:34.552-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-17T00:04:34.552-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Justin" /><title>Santa Has Gotta Be Diabetic by Now</title><content type="html">I was thinking about all the cookies Santa eats. He has to be diabetic by now, right? And if that's the case, it's kind of rude to leave out cookies on Christmas Eve. Maybe we should be leaving out strips of beef jerky.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Remember Justin's &lt;a href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-diagnosis-for-justin.html"&gt;recent diagnosis of hypogonadism&lt;/a&gt;? His treatment wasn't helping so we moved on from our family doctor to an endocrinologist. After a brief history, the doctor was immediately certain that Justin has an underlying problem causing all these problems: migraines, depression, anxiety, heartburn, high cholesterol, high blood pressure, constant fatigue, weight gain, inability to lose weight, and hypogonadism. One thing (in theory) explains it all - insulin resistance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Justin underwent a 2 hour glucose tolerance test (super boring!) and Justin has started Metformin and a low carb diet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8NKI9XBjcKo/Tuw-bqjx77I/AAAAAAAAKcg/JJalRtD3S8M/s1600/No+Candy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="282" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8NKI9XBjcKo/Tuw-bqjx77I/AAAAAAAAKcg/JJalRtD3S8M/s320/No+Candy.jpeg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
Let me just say, it's a hard time of the year to be told you can't have carbs. No carbs means no fudge. No popcorn balls. No cookies. No almond roca. No cinnamon pumpkin bread.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's gonna be rough.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-6327859357208143423?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S9qvgpTGQN--Ed-s0EAMYDVKmIQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S9qvgpTGQN--Ed-s0EAMYDVKmIQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S9qvgpTGQN--Ed-s0EAMYDVKmIQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S9qvgpTGQN--Ed-s0EAMYDVKmIQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/uHIMlyTMeOc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/6327859357208143423/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=6327859357208143423&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/6327859357208143423?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/6327859357208143423?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/uHIMlyTMeOc/santa-has-gotta-be-diabetic-by-now.html" title="Santa Has Gotta Be Diabetic by Now" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8NKI9XBjcKo/Tuw-bqjx77I/AAAAAAAAKcg/JJalRtD3S8M/s72-c/No+Candy.jpeg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/santa-has-gotta-be-diabetic-by-now.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYGR3gzeCp7ImA9WhRQGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-6883083770010938818</id><published>2011-12-14T00:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T00:02:06.680-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-14T00:02:06.680-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="random" /><title>Proper vs. Practical</title><content type="html">I almost started this post out by writing, "I miss manners." But I realized that I haven't ever really lived in a time of manners to be able to honestly miss them. I see them in movies and read about them in books. I see them in certain people. I don't mean &lt;i&gt;please&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;and &lt;i&gt;thank you&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;manners. I mean the kind of propriety you read about in Jane Austen novels.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There is something genteel and high-brow about manners.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have always admired my father's manners. He taught me a lot about manners. More than the average person knows, I believe, because I am always catching other people break the unwritten code of proper behavior. *Sigh.*&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On the other hand, a century or two ago, proper behavior could be very confining. Stifling. You could be socially ruined if you didn't curtsy just right or--heaven forbid--ripped one in church.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Proper behavior isn't always practical. Perhaps that is what makes it nice. A little above and beyond. I definitely have mixed feelings and allow myself to be proper when possible and practical at other times.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To give one point to the practical column, I like receiving money (and gift cards) as gifts. Probably my favorite form a gift because I can then go out shopping and get exactly what I want--especially clothing or shoes which is not possible for anyone else to pick out for you. All tradition says that money is not a proper gift. A gift is exactly that--a gift. An &lt;i&gt;item&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;given to a person. It's also improper to request gifts and make lists. Yeah, that's out the window in my house. I grew up with birthday and Christmas wish lists. We didn't get everything on our list, but it was a good shopping guide for my family members.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UNdQPs3Sv6E/TuhJzM9wmKI/AAAAAAAAKcY/pdRSLtyK3TU/s1600/Emily+Post.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UNdQPs3Sv6E/TuhJzM9wmKI/AAAAAAAAKcY/pdRSLtyK3TU/s320/Emily+Post.jpg" width="233" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Emily Post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On the side of proper, I believe in physical Christmas cards. I haven't sent mine out this year (yet) and I am a little stressed about it. It is a dying tradition. We've only received one so far this year. It's sad. Year-end blog posts and emailed Christmas "letters" do not cut it. I want the card with actual signatures on it. I want your spit DNA on the envelope. I want the forty-four cent stamp in the corner (or however much stamps are these days).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A big manner no-no for me is seeing a wedding invitation with the words "The bride and groom are registered at _____________." Ugh! MAJOR FAUX PAS!!! You can include a card with that information but it is never to be printed on the actual invitation/announcement. But it's so much more practical...more convenient...more cost effective...I think every wedding invitation I have received in history has broken this rule and it gets me every time. I guess I feel that weddings are one of the last bastions of tradition and etiquette.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When it comes to daily manners, those have slackened somewhat too. I don't really judge if someone doesn't have spot-on manners. But I honestly and truly notice when they do. There are the big ones like men removing hats in buildings and in front of ladies; men opening doors for ladies; always placing your napkin in your lap; no elbows on the table. Then there are the more subtle manners: letting the card dealer read their hand before you do; letting the cook (generally the matriarch) take the first bite of the meal; standing at attention (even in an awkward spot) when the national anthem plays; letting a woman walk ahead in a hallway. I don't judge if a strange man doesn't hold the door open for me when I enter the mall, but I certainly notice in a positive way if he does.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What are your proper vs. practical thoughts? What manners do you wish would be more abundant? Which things would you do away with in the name of practicality?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-6883083770010938818?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zNjdUS_iuJYcFRdXTRrBIfWv4XM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zNjdUS_iuJYcFRdXTRrBIfWv4XM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zNjdUS_iuJYcFRdXTRrBIfWv4XM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zNjdUS_iuJYcFRdXTRrBIfWv4XM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/eGNeTp9P_9w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/6883083770010938818/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=6883083770010938818&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/6883083770010938818?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/6883083770010938818?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/eGNeTp9P_9w/proper-vs-practical.html" title="Proper vs. Practical" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UNdQPs3Sv6E/TuhJzM9wmKI/AAAAAAAAKcY/pdRSLtyK3TU/s72-c/Emily+Post.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/proper-vs-practical.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEHQH88cSp7ImA9WhRQFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-8427206347346071553</id><published>2011-12-10T22:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T23:57:11.179-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-10T23:57:11.179-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="infertility" /><title>Do You Flunk Fertility Math?</title><content type="html">How long does it take to get pregnant...on average?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What is the average chance a woman has to get pregnant each month at age 30?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What is the average chance a woman has to get pregnant each month at age 40?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Disengage your brain and really think about your answers to these questions.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Seventy percent of women in the US age 25-35 answered these questions wrong.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The answers are 5 months, 20%, and 7%.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A recent Infertility IQ survey put out by RESOLVE showed that most women of child-bearing age flunk fertility math. Read an article about it &lt;a href="http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/45262603/ns/today-today_health/t/fertility-math-most-women-flunk-survey-finds/#.TuRBIGNFu_E"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In 2008, I switched fertility specialists. The first one just wasn't very aggressive and didn't want to have discussions about when to move on to the next step. Anyway, during my consultation with my new doctor, he looked at my chart. He said something like this: "You're 27. Let's say it takes six months to get you pregnant...and if you want more than one child, we're going to have to hurry before you turn 30. We're running out of time."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That made me feel OLD.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And it is true! I was old. At least my ovaries were (and still are!). While medicine and nutrition have found ways to extend our life expectancy, while social norms have delayed the average age of marriage and financial stability, nothing in our modern world has convinced women's ovaries and eggs to push back the biological clock a decade or so.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's a hard pill to swallow, to realize that as women we can't always "have it all." There is a certain amount of juggling and give-and-take. Putting off children until a woman is in her 30s or 40s could mean not having children at all. It's a scary reality, but it's reality.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And women need to know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's quite scary that 70% of women don't know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am curious...did you know the correct answers to the three questions at the beginning of the post? (I didn't - and I kind of consider myself an amateur infertility expert).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-8427206347346071553?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R5ZEKhtQXGL4xR1vjZKFwFJUxdY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R5ZEKhtQXGL4xR1vjZKFwFJUxdY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R5ZEKhtQXGL4xR1vjZKFwFJUxdY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R5ZEKhtQXGL4xR1vjZKFwFJUxdY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/ixppIPGbgKk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/8427206347346071553/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=8427206347346071553&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/8427206347346071553?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/8427206347346071553?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/ixppIPGbgKk/do-you-flunk-fertility-math.html" title="Do You Flunk Fertility Math?" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/do-you-flunk-fertility-math.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQARn0ycSp7ImA9WhRQFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-2510189357114434598</id><published>2011-12-08T20:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T21:02:27.399-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-08T21:02:27.399-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="motherhood" /><title>Sponge Up the Nose</title><content type="html">All week Joci has had really weepy eyes. I checked for symptoms of pink eye, fevers, congestion, etc. Nothing else. Just weepy eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last night (early this morning?) Joci woke up crying. So as I got up with her, I got a warm wash cloth to get all the dried gunk off her eyelashes. She sounded slightly stuffy, so I had her blow her nose.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Out came....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
a bit of a sponge.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ewww.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hopefully that is all of it and her eye problems will go away. I hope there isn't more trapped further in her sinuses.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Again, ewwww.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Justin says she was just being resourceful and trying to stop runny noses. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-2510189357114434598?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0gWataedlEYKXH5g2rK0Eq-rn3Q/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0gWataedlEYKXH5g2rK0Eq-rn3Q/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0gWataedlEYKXH5g2rK0Eq-rn3Q/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0gWataedlEYKXH5g2rK0Eq-rn3Q/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/6t13NqnR6GU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/2510189357114434598/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=2510189357114434598&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/2510189357114434598?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/2510189357114434598?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/6t13NqnR6GU/sponge-up-nose.html" title="Sponge Up the Nose" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/sponge-up-nose.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IDRX8-fip7ImA9WhRQEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-8470269799831990153</id><published>2011-12-06T19:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T19:39:34.156-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-06T19:39:34.156-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="quirks" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="random" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="self-loathing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="confessions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="work" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="frustration" /><title>The Fat Threshold</title><content type="html">There is a certain number on the scale that leaves me feeling fat. It's not a nice, round predictable number like one may think. It is a random, very specific number. It has nothing to do with the number itself, but I have identified it as the point where I feel fat. Where my clothes feel snug. Where it is visually noticeable that my curves are acting up.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You would think the weight gain thing would be gradual. Most women fluctuate several pounds in day. Why would this one-pound threshold make such a difference? I have no clue. But it is very real. It is not gradual. It is just there - BAM!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have crossed that threshold. I think my trip to NYC started my weight gain upswing but Halloween candy, Thanksgiving feasts, and Christmas treats haven't helped at all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My muffin top was rearing its head today. So much in fact, that I dropped everything I was doing at work at 2:11 (with only approximately three hours to work) and went to Target where I bought a new outfit (in my defense, I have sorely needed new black pants for a very long time, so it wasn't a useless impulse buy).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WFG4c-nx-VY/Tt7L5ew5q9I/AAAAAAAAKcQ/9-8zGhR7hfI/s1600/muffin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WFG4c-nx-VY/Tt7L5ew5q9I/AAAAAAAAKcQ/9-8zGhR7hfI/s320/muffin.jpg" width="317" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
This pastry's muffin top is just like mine - voluminous and extra lumpy.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I need to start feeling better about myself and my body. I need to enjoy my favorite foods of the season and not stress about losing weight (but use some self-control so I don't gain any either).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then...I need to get on the other side of this threshold.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-8470269799831990153?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/W7xI2OcvMUTo0MWXMq036dwqcqg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/W7xI2OcvMUTo0MWXMq036dwqcqg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/W7xI2OcvMUTo0MWXMq036dwqcqg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/W7xI2OcvMUTo0MWXMq036dwqcqg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/u_gqNrCnqyg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/8470269799831990153/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=8470269799831990153&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/8470269799831990153?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/8470269799831990153?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/u_gqNrCnqyg/fat-threshold.html" title="The Fat Threshold" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WFG4c-nx-VY/Tt7L5ew5q9I/AAAAAAAAKcQ/9-8zGhR7hfI/s72-c/muffin.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/fat-threshold.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQHRH4zeyp7ImA9WhRQEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651857003931160591.post-7625043911959428983</id><published>2011-12-04T22:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T23:42:15.083-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-04T23:42:15.083-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jocelyn" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Justin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="holidays" /><title>Family Holiday Fun</title><content type="html">Time to catch up on some family fun for the past couple of months.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWpOWafSelI/TtxZu1xfh0I/AAAAAAAAKZs/AcJJbXrd8e8/s1600/Joci+Fall+fun+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWpOWafSelI/TtxZu1xfh0I/AAAAAAAAKZs/AcJJbXrd8e8/s320/Joci+Fall+fun+001.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Joci painted a pumpkin that Grandma and Grandpa helped her pick out from the pumpkin patch.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OBUc8broiNg/TtxZ28yGaZI/AAAAAAAAKZ0/1yuP_P24LIY/s1600/Joci+Fall+fun+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OBUc8broiNg/TtxZ28yGaZI/AAAAAAAAKZ0/1yuP_P24LIY/s320/Joci+Fall+fun+009.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
I never got a great picture of her costume. But she sure looked great. She was happy with her costume initially, then a few days before Halloween she would cry about it and say she wanted to be a princess. She even cried the morning of school Halloween (the 28th) when I put it on her. Once she got to daycare and saw that her best daycare friend had the same costume, she thought it was pretty neat. And when she realized she got candy when she put it, she was always willing.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
So Joci had trick-or-treating at daycare (and my job) on Friday. Saturday we had a church Halloween party with trick-or-treating. On Sunday, Joci was ready to go trick-or-treating again. She didn't understand why she couldn't go. Monday, she was excited to go real trick-or-treating for her first time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NPGsOurCKt4/TtxZ9grR3NI/AAAAAAAAKZ8/6DMEWDIG57s/s1600/Joci+Fall+fun+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NPGsOurCKt4/TtxZ9grR3NI/AAAAAAAAKZ8/6DMEWDIG57s/s320/Joci+Fall+fun+017.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CVaXTx5N404/TtxaGTwdwII/AAAAAAAAKaE/1Pzor5Vplx0/s1600/Joci+Fall+fun+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CVaXTx5N404/TtxaGTwdwII/AAAAAAAAKaE/1Pzor5Vplx0/s320/Joci+Fall+fun+019.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
I figured Joci had enough candy for a 2 year old. I dressed her up and went to my brother's house so Joci could trick-or-treat from her cousins. That was the plan. Then we would come back home and hand out candy to the neighborhood children. Oh, she bawled and cried to go trick-or-treating. We waited for Daddy to come home and braved the wicked windy weather (nice&amp;nbsp;alliteration, right?). I thought we'd do maybe three or four houses. We did probably fifteen. Joci just kept wanting to keep going. Such fun!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fWIpoj_Yfng/TtxaPlAkLvI/AAAAAAAAKaM/1kia9UNpR9U/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fWIpoj_Yfng/TtxaPlAkLvI/AAAAAAAAKaM/1kia9UNpR9U/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+003.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
My niece Afton had her first dance rehearsal. She clogged at the Festival of Trees.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pReSZtB7CcU/TtxaWAjh5II/AAAAAAAAKaU/5PXrQPZ6qB8/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pReSZtB7CcU/TtxaWAjh5II/AAAAAAAAKaU/5PXrQPZ6qB8/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+008.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Joci was enthralled with the performance. But she cried and cried when Afton left the stage.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vm7zADo8T3Q/TtxachzZFUI/AAAAAAAAKag/BUc6HNadJPc/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vm7zADo8T3Q/TtxachzZFUI/AAAAAAAAKag/BUc6HNadJPc/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+018.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oVYBif6ycas/Ttxaj4TuCVI/AAAAAAAAKao/H3iWskTbWWQ/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oVYBif6ycas/Ttxaj4TuCVI/AAAAAAAAKao/H3iWskTbWWQ/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+020.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Ice cream afterwards!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TpotHP_COVM/TtxarpLc79I/AAAAAAAAKaw/C6uF31wh36M/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TpotHP_COVM/TtxarpLc79I/AAAAAAAAKaw/C6uF31wh36M/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+021.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
We spent Thanksgiving at my sister's house in Sandy, Utah. We had such a good time. I hardly ever saw Joci because she played with her cousins nonstop.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WnLACOw4A8w/Ttxa1ApyazI/AAAAAAAAKa4/5hsDFcJyg5I/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WnLACOw4A8w/Ttxa1ApyazI/AAAAAAAAKa4/5hsDFcJyg5I/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+022.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Happy Thanksgiving!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-usSFnIAjpXE/Ttxa9mskn3I/AAAAAAAAKbE/YrA-x3-IKHs/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-usSFnIAjpXE/Ttxa9mskn3I/AAAAAAAAKbE/YrA-x3-IKHs/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+023.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
The adult table. Stephanie, Jeff, Mason, Jonah, and Justin.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Our meal was so fantastic. My sister is awesome. The guys all went shooting in the morning while Stephanie slaved over the stove (and I mostly watched).&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
The next day we all saw &lt;i&gt;Arthur Christmas&lt;/i&gt;. Joci did pretty good in the theatre.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Our final day in Utah, we went to Gardner Village to see the elves.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ecdbmQ6oDEA/TtxbGSIaAfI/AAAAAAAAKbM/RQ_9dHz3tJ4/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ecdbmQ6oDEA/TtxbGSIaAfI/AAAAAAAAKbM/RQ_9dHz3tJ4/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+024.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
I had to take a picture of this little candy shop because of my niece Afton.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lqC5f5jtSjE/TtxbOMqPfHI/AAAAAAAAKbU/lmG9nMabAYc/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lqC5f5jtSjE/TtxbOMqPfHI/AAAAAAAAKbU/lmG9nMabAYc/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+026.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
My cute family with the hot chocolate elf.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NpK_lZGmHmQ/TtxbWP6k9BI/AAAAAAAAKbc/zHM8VHlzobk/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NpK_lZGmHmQ/TtxbWP6k9BI/AAAAAAAAKbc/zHM8VHlzobk/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+029.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Feeding the ducks&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fMvJGqzv7sk/TtxbeWqaD6I/AAAAAAAAKbk/Eaqr3oZqfF4/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fMvJGqzv7sk/TtxbeWqaD6I/AAAAAAAAKbk/Eaqr3oZqfF4/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+031.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
New best friends - Joci and Jessica.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TasohMCdXbw/TtxbmpERwFI/AAAAAAAAKbw/Q3vZkkQzQBM/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TasohMCdXbw/TtxbmpERwFI/AAAAAAAAKbw/Q3vZkkQzQBM/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+037.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
I wanted a picture of the girls in front of this cute elf cottage, but Joci wouldn't stop dancing to the Christmas music being blasted around. So here she is twirling in circles. It was the best I could do.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fc66OYDLWPs/TtxbvQCn8ZI/AAAAAAAAKb4/8p-Vz103X3I/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fc66OYDLWPs/TtxbvQCn8ZI/AAAAAAAAKb4/8p-Vz103X3I/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+045.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
And we finished with a delicious treat.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aSvBk-fLkR0/Ttxb3L6uDPI/AAAAAAAAKcA/XVZxAf09JEY/s1600/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aSvBk-fLkR0/Ttxb3L6uDPI/AAAAAAAAKcA/XVZxAf09JEY/s320/Clogging%252C+Thanksgiving+046.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
We left straight from Gardner Village to drive home. We stopped at a restaurant and Joci was not happy about having to wake up for it. I have never seen her so tired.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uNvpMN7niQA/Ttxb901Q9lI/AAAAAAAAKcI/0S20GABkEpM/s1600/Decorating+Christmas+tree+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uNvpMN7niQA/Ttxb901Q9lI/AAAAAAAAKcI/0S20GABkEpM/s320/Decorating+Christmas+tree+010.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
And today, we trimmed our Christmas tree. Joci loved it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
And now I am finally caught up!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/110/D180DA8273B7B0E2AD6E042C2A8EEF8B.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4651857003931160591-7625043911959428983?l=pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a2BNusXnp53prtwxR4YPW0ZiuyE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a2BNusXnp53prtwxR4YPW0ZiuyE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a2BNusXnp53prtwxR4YPW0ZiuyE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a2BNusXnp53prtwxR4YPW0ZiuyE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~4/2t-BDVupe3U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/feeds/7625043911959428983/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4651857003931160591&amp;postID=7625043911959428983&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7625043911959428983?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4651857003931160591/posts/default/7625043911959428983?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PocketFullOfProse/~3/2t-BDVupe3U/family-holiday-fun.html" title="Family Holiday Fun" /><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14678809883294746934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X_XT8mwopcQ/S3-CqLVjveI/AAAAAAAAGwM/sDzLoK-qT_U/S220/Zierke+029.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWpOWafSelI/TtxZu1xfh0I/AAAAAAAAKZs/AcJJbXrd8e8/s72-c/Joci+Fall+fun+001.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pocketfullofprose.blogspot.com/2011/12/family-holiday-fun.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

