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<?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;Dk8ERng_cCp7ImA9WhZQFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:40:07.648-07:00</updated><category term="moving" /><category term="someone else's words" /><category term="saints" /><category term="books" /><category term="death" /><category term="thanksgiving" /><category term="in the kitchen" /><category term="boys" /><category term="nature" /><category term="art" /><category term="little things" /><category term="valentine's day" /><category term="simple woman daybook entries" /><category term="bird unit" /><category term="thoughts" /><category term="homeschooling" /><category term="family" /><category term="new year" /><category term="pets" /><category term="keeping house" /><category term="things he said today" /><category term="crochet" /><category term="nonsense" /><category term="sewing" /><category term="recipes" /><category term="growing things" /><category term="kids" /><category term="my girl" /><category term="friends" /><category term="meme" /><category term="minor catastrophes" /><category term="reflections" /><category term="children" /><category term="photography" /><category term="craft swap" /><category term="Advent" /><category term="Christmas" /><category term="crafts for kids" /><category term="mama journaling" /><category term="music" /><category term="fall" /><category term="faith" /><category term="Ll" /><category term="award" /><category term="life" /><category term="embroidery" /><category term="friendship" /><category term="feast days" /><category term="seasons" /><category term="miscarriage" /><title>Sometimes I....</title><subtitle type="html">dance in the rain</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>180</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/SometimesI" /><feedburner:info uri="sometimesi" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYBR34-cSp7ImA9WxJSFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-3352498753597082461</id><published>2009-05-05T11:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T12:02:36.059-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-05T12:02:36.059-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="thoughts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><title>important and beautiful lives</title><content type="html">i want to remember these words &lt;em&gt;every&lt;/em&gt; day of my life..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Day by day I must learn to abandon myself; to keep myself available for whatever He, the Lord needs of me at a given moment, even if other things seem more appealing and more important to me: it means giving life, not taking it. It is in this very way that we experience freedom: freedom from ourselves, the vastness of being. In this very way, by being useful, in being a person whom the world needs, our live becomes important and beautiful. Only those who give up their own life find it. Let us entrust ourselves to Jesus, the True Shepherd."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;~Pope Benedict XVI, Sunday, May 3, 2009 magnificat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-3352498753597082461?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/50IoTbsAG_s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3352498753597082461?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3352498753597082461?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/50IoTbsAG_s/important-and-beautiful-lives.html" title="important and beautiful lives" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/05/important-and-beautiful-lives.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIMRHc7fip7ImA9WxJSEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-5110400068440407577</id><published>2009-04-30T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T13:16:25.906-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-30T13:16:25.906-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="things he said today" /><title>baby red</title><content type="html">"i want you to call me baby red", he tells me while we are reading a story about animal babies, snuggled on the couch, sharing quesadillas. "you could say baby blue, baby orange or lots of things, but i like baby red or max." ok. baby red it shall be. gosh, i love. this. kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-5110400068440407577?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/rqksQP6LKvA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/5110400068440407577?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/5110400068440407577?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/rqksQP6LKvA/baby-red.html" title="baby red" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/04/baby-red.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQERX05eip7ImA9WxVbFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-4437095457391700988</id><published>2009-04-01T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T10:51:44.322-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-01T10:51:44.322-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="thoughts" /><title>a real mother</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SdBiw_MyWXI/AAAAAAAACSY/37eughuD-pU/s1600-h/IMG_0090.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318859753662863730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SdBiw_MyWXI/AAAAAAAACSY/37eughuD-pU/s400/IMG_0090.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318861764940492946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SdBkmDyvcJI/AAAAAAAACSo/5thqviBT_5g/s400/IMG_0126.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318863148385091026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SdBl2lhovdI/AAAAAAAACS4/OJSl0ickjF8/s400/IMG_0217.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318862395735529762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SdBlKxr_2SI/AAAAAAAACSw/buiBA_GtAt8/s400/IMG_0097.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2008/12/inside-out-braids.html"&gt;she&lt;/a&gt; turned seven last saturday. two years ago, her fifth birthday, was the last time i saw her mother. it was not pleasant as we had some &lt;em&gt;words&lt;/em&gt;. i don't really regret what i said because when i look at the frilly, pink lovliness of this little girl, i only had &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; best interest at heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"set a guard over my mouth, O Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips." -ps. 141:3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i said it because i knew to what dangerous places her addiction was taking her and that there was the possibility that things could end this way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;an exercise for school the other day asked that the kids consider how they got their names and because my aunt was not really sure, she didn't know what to tell her to write. then with an exasperated air, &lt;em&gt;e&lt;/em&gt; told her that it didn't matter because she doesn't have a &lt;em&gt;real&lt;/em&gt; mother. i know how this must've hurt because my aunt is trying to fill an un-fillable void. the void that the &lt;em&gt;real &lt;/em&gt;mother leaves when she is gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i only know what i know about this bond because my &lt;em&gt;own&lt;/em&gt; mother and i are still so connected that my father jokes that they never cut the umbilical cord completely when i was born and with my daughter it is the same. of course we have to stick together in this &lt;em&gt;testosterhome&lt;/em&gt;. but today my thoughts were that in this situation someone has taken the place of the &lt;em&gt;real&lt;/em&gt; mother. not because she wanted to, for in this mess she lost a daughter. but she had to. and i think this generation will be seeing more and more grandparents raising their grandchildren. so my prayer today is for all mothers. &lt;em&gt;real and otherwise&lt;/em&gt;. because we all know that what makes a mother real in the lives of her children is not always for us to tell, but perhaps in a few years time, at least in this case, time will tell &lt;em&gt;who&lt;/em&gt; the real mother is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-4437095457391700988?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/B395YPjvmlg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/4437095457391700988?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/4437095457391700988?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/B395YPjvmlg/real-mother.html" title="a real mother" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SdBiw_MyWXI/AAAAAAAACSY/37eughuD-pU/s72-c/IMG_0090.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/04/real-mother.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEDRnY6eSp7ImA9WxVbE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-8542569886698280565</id><published>2009-03-29T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T22:57:57.811-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-29T22:57:57.811-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="thoughts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><title>bigger. better. new. improved.</title><content type="html">that was what i was hoping for anyway. but not yet. He is not done with me yet and while some things have gone very well for me this lent, i feel like it has gone by so fast. there has been a lot of praying and works, but not enough contemplation. some of it is my fault, other things are just inevitable, but i am going to keep trying. hopefully seeing everything shrouded in purple this week will remind me to pause and reflect, as often as i can, on the great, great suffering which was the price of my redemption. and with that, maybe i can get the last one down by Good Friday-improved. yes, i'd like to see that written next to my name. or at least &lt;em&gt;improving&lt;/em&gt;.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-8542569886698280565?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/lG5m8_sZr7Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/8542569886698280565?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/8542569886698280565?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/lG5m8_sZr7Q/bigger-better-new-improved.html" title="bigger. better. new. improved." /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/03/bigger-better-new-improved.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMDQngyeSp7ImA9WxVbEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-3461905795036995730</id><published>2009-03-28T12:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T12:11:13.691-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-28T12:11:13.691-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pets" /><title>little white lies</title><content type="html">i hate doing it. my conscience is nagging at me, but i didn't know what else to do. the new little puppy darted out into the road, she was following the big boys to the place where they "jump" their bikes and it happened-she was hit by a car. i just wanted to shield the two little ones from the pain of losing another animal. it seems we have terrible luck with pets. and i gulp each time i perpetuate this little white lie. wait till monday. let's see what the vet says. i am not &lt;em&gt;sure&lt;/em&gt; they put her to sleep. it's not a good idea, i know, but we all do it, don't we? i like to tell myself that somehow it will make &lt;em&gt;them&lt;/em&gt; feel better while i alone bear the brunt of knowing that she is gone and it won't be better on monday. i am going to have to come clean at some point. heaven help me when i do. for there really is no escaping from those nasty little white lies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-3461905795036995730?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/-KYe-baGRIs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3461905795036995730?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3461905795036995730?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/-KYe-baGRIs/little-white-lies.html" title="little white lies" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-white-lies.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQBSH0zeyp7ImA9WxVbEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-7220203192841833698</id><published>2009-03-27T14:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T14:12:39.383-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-27T14:12:39.383-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="thoughts" /><title>fickle</title><content type="html">feeling like such a fickle blogger and person i am trying to decide whether i should still use this space or not. i really enjoy blogs that "go deeper", but i also like the really light-hearted ones about sewing, photography, cooking and homeschooling and thoughts and feelings, places where the faith is contemplated and discussed......so the question is, how does one find the balance? is it silly to have more than one blog? how do you squeeze a whole person, much less a whole family into one blog. thoughts? suggestions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-7220203192841833698?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/uttXVZB6xCI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/7220203192841833698?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/7220203192841833698?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/uttXVZB6xCI/fickle.html" title="fickle" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/03/fickle.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUEQHszfCp7ImA9WxVWGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-3041313586852735081</id><published>2009-02-28T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T22:00:01.584-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-28T22:00:01.584-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boys" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mama journaling" /><title>never before seen "footage" of a rare species</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SWbB3w8KVcI/AAAAAAAABvI/kogbhd8Ij-E/s1600-h/IMG_5390.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289127976167429570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SWbB3w8KVcI/AAAAAAAABvI/kogbhd8Ij-E/s400/IMG_5390.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289128277414285378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SWbCJTLAkEI/AAAAAAAABvQ/_MCovMZWCqs/s400/IMG_5399.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289128487946012370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SWbCVjdrxtI/AAAAAAAABvY/2B8VB-WRst0/s400/IMG_5401.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;these jammies were from last winter and they became a favorite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;he pretends that he is a rare green-striped tiger when he wears them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i have tried to retire them, but they seem to get "discovered" every time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;don't think that i haven't fixed those holes, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but this tigers' toes are too long and the stitches just won't hold.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;besides, have you ever seen the things that rare green-striped tigers do? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;they hunt, run and jump in the most ferocious and extreme ways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i guess for now i'll just enjoy this rare species until it becomes &lt;em&gt;extinct&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-3041313586852735081?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/FLnCZUOutEE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3041313586852735081?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3041313586852735081?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/FLnCZUOutEE/never-before-seen-footage-of-rare.html" title="never before seen &quot;footage&quot; of a rare species" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SWbB3w8KVcI/AAAAAAAABvI/kogbhd8Ij-E/s72-c/IMG_5390.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/never-before-seen-footage-of-rare.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEADSH4zfSp7ImA9WxVXGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-8264342374169543497</id><published>2009-02-18T09:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T09:06:19.085-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-18T09:06:19.085-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sewing" /><title>the scrap bag exchange</title><content type="html">if you are interested, come see me &lt;a href="http://thelittlehouseinthebigyard.wordpress.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-8264342374169543497?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/Bl8RbkwqKsk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/8264342374169543497?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/8264342374169543497?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/Bl8RbkwqKsk/scrap-bag-exchange.html" title="the scrap bag exchange" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/scrap-bag-exchange.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUEQXY9eSp7ImA9WxVXFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-2411435383475279855</id><published>2009-02-14T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T18:00:00.861-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-14T18:00:00.861-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="moving" /><title>saying good-bye</title><content type="html">to blogger that is.&lt;br /&gt;and hello to &lt;a href="http://thelittlehouseinthebigyard.wordpress.com/"&gt;wordpress&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;i am happy with the move.&lt;br /&gt;it kinda feels like spring cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;my new place is fresh, clean,&lt;br /&gt;uncluttered.&lt;br /&gt;i don't know how long it&lt;br /&gt;will stay that way.&lt;br /&gt;but follow me there if&lt;br /&gt;you'd like.&lt;br /&gt;you can join me in the newest&lt;br /&gt;chapter of my blogging journey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-2411435383475279855?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/ROKbSQeEeE8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/2411435383475279855?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/2411435383475279855?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/ROKbSQeEeE8/saying-good-bye.html" title="saying good-bye" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/saying-good-bye.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YGRXYyeip7ImA9WxVXFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-9220519465726333322</id><published>2009-02-13T13:28:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T13:38:44.892-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-13T13:38:44.892-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="valentine's day" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sewing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="keeping house" /><title>home is where the hearts are</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXmoVYFUbI/AAAAAAAACQk/-gOqtPKyqeM/s1600-h/IMG_7680.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302397716905939378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXmoVYFUbI/AAAAAAAACQk/-gOqtPKyqeM/s400/IMG_7680.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXmbNX9iKI/AAAAAAAACQc/4jw27gEdmLI/s1600-h/IMG_7665.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302397491419646114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXmbNX9iKI/AAAAAAAACQc/4jw27gEdmLI/s400/IMG_7665.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302397990647908434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXm4RJQSFI/AAAAAAAACQs/ZlLkicRDGUY/s400/IMG_7683.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXmOjb-TvI/AAAAAAAACQU/LoVTlg50g0A/s1600-h/IMG_7629.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302397274003754738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXmOjb-TvI/AAAAAAAACQU/LoVTlg50g0A/s400/IMG_7629.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302398846393979570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXnqFDBErI/AAAAAAAACRE/GPUO2xzH_Bg/s400/IMG_7701.JPG" border="0" /&gt; happy st. valentine's day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-9220519465726333322?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/Ohh12ABusqU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/9220519465726333322?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/9220519465726333322?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/Ohh12ABusqU/home-is-where-hearts-are.html" title="home is where the hearts are" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZXmoVYFUbI/AAAAAAAACQk/-gOqtPKyqeM/s72-c/IMG_7680.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/home-is-where-hearts-are.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcGQnYzeip7ImA9WxVXFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-6106884034704424638</id><published>2009-02-12T23:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T23:27:03.882-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-12T23:27:03.882-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="growing things" /><title>whiskers on kittens</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;these are a few of my favorite things.............&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302169834717422706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUXX2EfpHI/AAAAAAAACPQ/vM_aAhDHVTk/s400/IMG_7596.JPG" border="0" /&gt;little boys with curly hair and long eyelashes&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302170466273024546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUX8mzFWiI/AAAAAAAACPY/rBMxcdfQicI/s400/IMG_2698.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;bringing plants-lilies from our old house, violets and irises-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;from nana's yard to start the generational garden&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUZ5ayY2aI/AAAAAAAACPw/L0ErfoTx1Xc/s1600-h/IMG_7610.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302172610532530594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUZ5ayY2aI/AAAAAAAACPw/L0ErfoTx1Xc/s400/IMG_7610.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302172954120755394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUaNawNGMI/AAAAAAAACP4/wWj2p2O9YBw/s400/IMG_7618.JPG" border="0" /&gt; gardening with my very own root children&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Story-Root-Children-Sibylle-Von-Olfers/dp/086315106x"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302172018016470818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUZW7fjRyI/AAAAAAAACPo/XZWEhvCmhaU/s400/IMG_7598.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302170835852006034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUYSHllEpI/AAAAAAAACPg/Vui5izMXH4U/s400/IMG_7566.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;discovering charlottes' web&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302173405790688402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUantWtVJI/AAAAAAAACQA/QGKP4eOCfDQ/s400/IMG_7567.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;spotting two new nests in the yard&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302173764171102354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUa8kbQeJI/AAAAAAAACQI/ICcBy4YrJOw/s400/roots.jpg" border="0" /&gt; reading &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Story-Root-Children-Sibylle-Von-Olfers/dp/086315106x"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;story tonight and finding out &lt;div align="center"&gt;that these root children were painting lady bugs too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;thank you &lt;a href="http://cuppajoe2go.blogspot.com/2009/02/some-cheering-up-is-in-order.html"&gt;sarah &lt;/a&gt;sunshine for making us think happy thoughts today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and since &lt;a href="http://partyof9.blogspot.com/2009/02/funk.html"&gt;shelly&lt;/a&gt; came out of her funk i can go to bed even happier!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;it's 11:18 and all is well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;goodnite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-6106884034704424638?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/jXIKggpkC8c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/6106884034704424638?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/6106884034704424638?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/jXIKggpkC8c/whiskers-on-kittens.html" title="whiskers on kittens" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZUXX2EfpHI/AAAAAAAACPQ/vM_aAhDHVTk/s72-c/IMG_7596.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/whiskers-on-kittens.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cFQ3s4eyp7ImA9WxVXFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-3446613687668254728</id><published>2009-02-12T10:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T10:56:52.533-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-12T10:56:52.533-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="children" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="my girl" /><title>when something terrible happens</title><content type="html">sorry i've been such a wet blanket these past few days.&lt;br /&gt;i read that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"February arrives cold, wet and gray, her gifts disguised &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;for only the most discerning spirits to see..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i guess that means i have not been "discerning" enough&lt;br /&gt;to find her gifts.&lt;br /&gt;but i thank God for the gift of HIS grace&lt;br /&gt;and for the gift of children.&lt;br /&gt;LITERALLY.&lt;br /&gt;because i cannot imagine my life without either of them.&lt;br /&gt;and without their help, one might &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; find&lt;br /&gt;the gifts which are in &lt;em&gt;every day!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yesterday as i was mulling over all the things i had written,&lt;br /&gt;wishing perhaps i hadn't said so much, but i felt so&lt;br /&gt;grateful for all of the generous hearts who took the time&lt;br /&gt;out of their busy days to respond.&lt;br /&gt;and though i didn't answer any of the comments&lt;br /&gt;i went over each one carefully and i came to the conclusion&lt;br /&gt;that you are all so great!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;death is such a hard thing to talk about for adults, but especially with children.&lt;br /&gt;when my two cousins were murdered, it was not at all like dealing with natural death.&lt;br /&gt;it was so hard to even find the right words to tell them what had happened, much&lt;br /&gt;less talk about it in the days, weeks and months that followed.&lt;br /&gt;murder has a way of striking fear into the hearts of even the most trusting and faithful person.&lt;br /&gt;probably one of the most difficult things, aside from losing people that we dearly loved,&lt;br /&gt;was that the girls were killed 7 months apart and so there was still such an open,&lt;br /&gt;gaping wound in our hearts, which for me, as an adult to try and comprehend was difficult enough.&lt;br /&gt;but the children, had been so sheltered.&lt;br /&gt;i had kept them away from &lt;em&gt;the world&lt;/em&gt; all these years yet there it was right on my doorstep, demanding to be let in, bringing all its' ugliness with it.&lt;br /&gt;i know not everything in the world is bad, but tragedy has a way of making it seem so.&lt;br /&gt;tragedy tries to steal from us that sweet, gentle peace, which, as Christians, should always be present in our lives, no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;at times, wallowing in my own grief, i was blinded to my childrens' needs and the day it hit me the hardest was while unpacking my daughters' things to put in her new room-we moved here over the summer of '08-when i came across a small hello kitty notepad.&lt;br /&gt;and knowing that she uses these for her diary-being only 9 she has not yet discovered how to "lock" away her deepest, darkest thoughts as girls so often do-i opened it.&lt;br /&gt;and as i flipped through the notepad much to my surprise she had pages upon pages of names of all the people in our family who had died and little drawings surrounding each name representing things she knew from me which each person liked to do or memories she had shared with them at a particular time during their earthly life. this little girl had already seen so much death in &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; short life and i didn't even realize how it was affecting &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;i am her mother, her teacher, yet i had missed all this?&lt;br /&gt;how could i have been so neglectful.&lt;br /&gt;it seemed so easy to shush her all those times she cried and force her along the path to healing.&lt;br /&gt;when i wasn't even healed.&lt;br /&gt;tears don't come easy for me, so why should they for her either.&lt;br /&gt;how wrong i was.&lt;br /&gt;in retrospect i realize how vital it is for children to realize that those whom we have loved and lost in this life have not been annihilated.&lt;br /&gt;they still live on in eternity and they need our prayers and sacrifices,&lt;br /&gt;for their purification and sometimes even ours.&lt;br /&gt;this is not a professional opinion by any means.&lt;br /&gt;these are just the thoughts of a mother who has hurt and who has seen her children and her family hurting.&lt;br /&gt;my heart will always ache for my aunt, especially, who lost &lt;em&gt;all 3 of her children&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;all of them tragically taken from her.&lt;br /&gt;her mother's heart forever broken as she struggles to sift through those broken pieces, to lift herself up out of the wreckage of her life and raise her two grandchildren.&lt;br /&gt;how could &lt;em&gt;anyon&lt;/em&gt;e ever &lt;em&gt;comprehend&lt;/em&gt; that?&lt;br /&gt;i certainly don't have all of the answers.&lt;br /&gt;yet the question remains, how do we, as loving parents, teach not only ourselves, but our children to cope with death?&lt;br /&gt;it is simple: we don't.&lt;br /&gt;Mother Angelica writes:" We don't have the power over life and death, but we do have the power to choose good instead of evil and to do the will of God."&lt;br /&gt;the Holy Scriptures remind us that "it is a good and holy thing to pray for the dead" so that they may be loosed from their sins.&lt;br /&gt;and so what have i learned from all of this?&lt;br /&gt;well, i am more careful now.&lt;br /&gt;i don't just shush the tears away.&lt;br /&gt;i am careful to watch, not only for more notes, but for signs that something is wrong.&lt;br /&gt;but &lt;em&gt;most importantly&lt;/em&gt; i will try my hardest to teach her and the boys that there is power in our suffering here on this earth.&lt;br /&gt;power made perfect in the sufferings of Jesus Christ.&lt;br /&gt;and that we are made strong in HIM.&lt;br /&gt;and that our life goal is to find HIS will in &lt;em&gt;all things&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;and together we can send fear on his way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;even when something terrible happens......................&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-3446613687668254728?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/W77IKI8H8mQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3446613687668254728?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3446613687668254728?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/W77IKI8H8mQ/when-something-terrible-happens.html" title="when something terrible happens" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/when-something-terrible-happens.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcFQHwzcCp7ImA9WxVXE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-2968268420995167351</id><published>2009-02-10T23:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T00:13:31.288-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-11T00:13:31.288-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>good grief</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZJ9NFtKCeI/AAAAAAAACOo/3R7JXT_aSGM/s1600-h/IMG_7535.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i am kind of in a funk right now with regards to blogging. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i feel like i am at a stand-still.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;like i don't know where i want this to go or if i even want it to keep going.&lt;/div&gt;i know the blog world will continue to run its' course without me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;i think the rain makes me feel this way.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;cold, distant, thoughtful. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and then i read such encouraging, hopeful things and i am reminded that the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; is a tool, just like any other tool and as long as it is used wisely, there shouldn't be a problem. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;i mean, i wouldn't sit in front of the bread maker or my alarm clock and stare at it all day, mindlessly clicking the hours away while the laundry piles up and the kids forage &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; the fridge for their own food, now would i?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;i guess the hardest thing is delegation of time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;there is always so much to be done.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;things like making monkey bread and reading story after story.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;but then again i &lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt; to write, it is so healing for me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;it is natural, kind of like breathing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;i know i am not a very good writer, by writing standards, i am much better at breathing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;but then again writing is only one of the many hats i wear, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;i am not being paid to write and luckily i have a day job.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;i don't want this to be a whiny post, wherein i complain about all of the injustices in my small life, because when i sit here and think about what &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; right, there is so, so much that &lt;em&gt;is right&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;however, there are things i &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; to say. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;even if just to get them off my chest, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;sending them into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cyber&lt;/span&gt; space so that they'll bother me no more.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;the sadness of &lt;a href="http://amywelborne.wordpress.com/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; recent tragedy, is probably what really got me thinking again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;you know how those serious thoughts come and go, the ones about life and death. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;and i realize that &lt;em&gt;these&lt;/em&gt; are the things that have been weighing me down and making me blue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so if you don't mind crawling inside my head, here i go again:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"stay awake and be ready! for you do not know on what day your Lord will come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;alleluia, alleluia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;in all truth I tell you whoever keeps my word will never see death."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;FEAR&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"our lot in this life is to live always in fear. perfect assurance is possible to no one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God wishes us to glorify Him by a self-abandonment full of faith and love. it is the tribute of which HE is most jealous."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;i found these things in one of my journals, i am not sure how old they are.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;they are probably from about 3 years or so ago.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;they are not my words, of course, but they went along with what i was &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;feeling at the time and so i wrote them down. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;i guess loss has a way of coloring our worldview many different colors.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;sometimes grey and even black.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and sometimes it even manifests itself in things like me screaming, "the kids can't eat red dye #4o because don't you know that it causes cancer in laboratory rats?" and then suddenly i am the bad one. the mom who won't let them eat &lt;em&gt;poisonous&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;popsicles&lt;/span&gt; from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ice cream&lt;/span&gt; man or hot cheetos. the mom who tries to convince them that Joe's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;O's&lt;/span&gt; taste the same as cheerios and that's that! the mom who is no fun because danger lurks around every corner and in every box......it lurks in your sleep, when you cross the street, in gum and microwaves.......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;but i wonder if they will ever understand me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;because my reasons behind my method of thought are painful ones.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;and if we are caring people, which most of us are, we cannot help being affected by the pain and sadness of others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and i am such a person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and perhaps i feel it even more as i contemplate my own litany of lost lives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the ones that have made my life a lot emptier than it &lt;em&gt;could&lt;/em&gt; have been.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the ones who are missing from thanksgiving and Christmas dinners.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the ones whose absences seem to taint the very food we eat as a cloud of sadness settles over the room, making everything so sorrowful and tragic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and i, perhaps selfishly, ponder "what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;could've&lt;/span&gt; been.........."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the first time i tried to write this post, i went through each name.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i listed them and the things i remembered most about each one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but the list was so long that i thought it might not even seem &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;believable&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;that there are so many.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and then i realized it was too personal and names wouldn't matter to you, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the reader, because you did not know them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but here i am &lt;em&gt;again&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;trying to do this &lt;em&gt;again &lt;/em&gt;because &lt;em&gt;they&lt;/em&gt; mattered to me and if you'll just bear with me because i am sure that your own life is filled with some, if not many who do matter to &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;however, since i don't want to &lt;em&gt;tell&lt;/em&gt; anyone what to do,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;instead i will kindly &lt;em&gt;suggest&lt;/em&gt; that you try your hardest not to take the ones you love for granted because none of us know when it is &lt;em&gt;time&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and by this, i mean time to go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the timing wherein we each come and go into and out of this world is shrouded in mystery, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;much like the God who decides our plight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and i can honestly say that it doesn't matter whether death is sudden and unprovided or a slow and prolonged process.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it is never easy to say good-bye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;how can we ever be ready to say good-bye to someone we have loved.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;someone who had laughing eyes and a dancing smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to someone who had the softest shoulder to lay your head on &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;or wrote you the sweetest, encouraging letters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;or worse yet, someone tiny and helpless --someone-- who never even had a chance at life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;no, saying good-bye is never easy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but i must say that the only thing that even slightly &lt;em&gt;eases &lt;/em&gt;the pain of losing a loved one is &lt;em&gt;knowing&lt;/em&gt; that they were living a life pleasing to God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;because whether or not we &lt;em&gt;believe&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"no man can cheat death",&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and one day, each of us will stand before Him &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and render an account of our lives, the lives we were given.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and there is &lt;em&gt;NOTHING&lt;/em&gt; worse, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;than to hear the words, "go away from Me, I never knew you........."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;just imagining that those are the words that will echo in your ears for all of eternity&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sends chills down my spine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so while grief can be good, it is not healthy to dwell on these things for too long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;firmly&lt;/span&gt; believe darkness is a tool that helps us to see the LIGHT when we might otherwise not notice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;kind of like the way that one who has &lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt; grown a garden might not check EVERY SINGLE DAY to see if seedling have sprouted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sometimes the most obvious things are the hardest to see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but it is so lovely to see THE LIGHT shining on a dark faith,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;in a dark world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;illuminating the truth and making what was hidden, seen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so pray always.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;pray to God, His Son, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;enlist the help of the Blessed Mother, your angel guardian and all the saints.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"But because many make it more their study to know than to live well, therefore are they often deceived, and bring forth none, or very little fruit....Verily, when the day of judgement comes, we shall not be asked what we have read, but what we have done; nor how learnedly we have spoken, but &lt;em&gt;how religiously we have lived&lt;/em&gt;." ~&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;thomas&lt;/span&gt; a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;kempis&lt;/span&gt;, my imitation of CHRIST&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ps&lt;/span&gt;. i actually have some really cheerful things to share if i can get around to posting them and please forgive the quirky format of these posts lately. blogger seems to do whatever it wants, regardless of what i want and so i am contemplating moving to wordpress or typepad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i mean it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-2968268420995167351?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/_boaxSqwvCA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/2968268420995167351?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/2968268420995167351?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/_boaxSqwvCA/good-grief.html" title="good grief" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/good-grief.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkADQ38_fip7ImA9WxVXEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-7832266640262884928</id><published>2009-02-09T07:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T17:19:32.146-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-09T17:19:32.146-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="simple woman daybook entries" /><title>for today</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZBOIflVgQI/AAAAAAAACNI/XZkT2hvguds/s1600-h/simple-woman-daybook-large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300822669239091458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 198px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZBOIflVgQI/AAAAAAAACNI/XZkT2hvguds/s400/simple-woman-daybook-large.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; outside my window..........it's raining, it's pouring and clouds, wind and MUD abound.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i am thinking..............about whether i should wake the kids up or not. it is 7:45 a.m.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i am thankful for................heat, warm blankets and my cup of brewing tea-green tea with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;yerba&lt;/span&gt; mate, milk and honey.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;from the schoolroom..............math, dictation, spelling and reading aloud The Trumpet of the Swan. the middle kids have photography and art class this afternoon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;in the kitchen...............hot chocolate, toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i am wearing...........leopard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pj&lt;/span&gt; pants and a black long-sleeved shirt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i am creating............something for a little peach, a few things for valentine's day, lacy linen napkins.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i am going..............to clean my room and do some sewing this afternoon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i am reading..............simple abundance and the imitation of Christ.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i am hoping...............my slight headache goes away, it feels kind of like a sinus headache.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i am hearing................raindrops, the hum of the heater, goats bleating(?) (from the neighbors' yard), birds playing in the rain, the click of the keyboard and a little boy snoring in my bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;around the house..........the laundry is under control, the front room is tidy (we picked it up last night before bed), the schoolroom needs a little bit of work and there are a few dishes, but not too many.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;one of my favorite things.............kids who entertain themselves despite the rainy, gloomy weather.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a few plans for the rest of the week............make and send valentines, deep clean the boy's room, trip to the snow, make chocolate dipped marshmallows, plant a few more irises, lilies and some daisies, go see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.inkheartmovie.com/"&gt;inkheart&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;here are two picture thoughts i am sharing.............&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300971687076305010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZDVqeSWGHI/AAAAAAAACOI/5bmWGDLRaVo/s400/IMG_7456.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;owl always love you &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300846110097997890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZBjc7lnAEI/AAAAAAAACOA/d9OizEjesQc/s400/IMG_7508.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't forget to visit &lt;a href="http://thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; for more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;daybook&lt;/span&gt; fun. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-7832266640262884928?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/NyZ16w-0g1M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/7832266640262884928?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/7832266640262884928?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/NyZ16w-0g1M/for-today.html" title="for today" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SZBOIflVgQI/AAAAAAAACNI/XZkT2hvguds/s72-c/simple-woman-daybook-large.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/for-today.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04MQ3g8cSp7ImA9WxVXEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-7163456297986062925</id><published>2009-02-07T10:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T10:39:42.679-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-07T10:39:42.679-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boys" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>first born</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYyF3um7LDI/AAAAAAAACMI/1jtDCD6l_0w/s1600-h/facebook+specials+032.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYyE_RdwFKI/AAAAAAAACMA/sJngJ6B3VIQ/s1600-h/000_0843.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;two friends have tagged me for this on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/"&gt;facebook&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and since today is &lt;em&gt;his &lt;/em&gt;day anyway, i thought i'd go ahead and do it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;hard to believe 15 years ago , on a rainy monday, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;that my first born came into this world at 10:14 am. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i can still recall it as if it were yesterday..........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was your first pregnancy planned?&lt;/em&gt; NO.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Were you married at the time?&lt;/em&gt; no.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;What was your reaction?&lt;/em&gt; scared, but in awe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was abortion an option for you?&lt;/em&gt; NEVER.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;How old were you?&lt;/em&gt; 17.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;How did you find out you were pregnant?&lt;/em&gt; missed period(s).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who did you tell first?&lt;/em&gt; friends, boyfriend-who is now my husband.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you want to find out the sex?&lt;/em&gt; YES.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;When was your due date?&lt;/em&gt; January 31, 1994.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you have morning sickness?&lt;/em&gt; a little bit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;What did you crave?&lt;/em&gt; salsa, mashed potatoes with cranberry sauce&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and marie calenders pie (cherry) with vanilla icecream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who/What irritated you the most?&lt;/em&gt; hardly anything because i slept all the time, but the sound of chewing really got to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;What was your first child's sex?&lt;/em&gt; male.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you wish you had the opposite sex of what you were getting?&lt;/em&gt; no. i wanted a big brother to lead the tribe of children i'd have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;How many pounds did you gain during the pregnancy?&lt;/em&gt; way TOO many, didn't you see my list of cravings??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you have a baby shower?&lt;/em&gt; yes, three.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was it a surprise or did you know?&lt;/em&gt; i knew.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you have any complications during your pregnancy?&lt;/em&gt; no.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where did you give birth?&lt;/em&gt; sharp murrieta.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;How many hours were you in labor?&lt;/em&gt; 5.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who drove you to the hospital? &lt;/em&gt;my mama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who watched you give birth?&lt;/em&gt; both of my parents, he was "&lt;em&gt;our&lt;/em&gt;" baby, as i was still &lt;em&gt;their&lt;/em&gt; baby.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was it natural or c-section? &lt;/em&gt;i have had all of my kids natural. no c-sections or episiotomies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you take medicine to ease the pain?&lt;/em&gt; no. i have never used medication during birth, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it would be distracting to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;How much did your child weigh?&lt;/em&gt; 7lbs. 8 oz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;When was your child actually born?&lt;/em&gt; February 7, 1994.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;What did you name him/her? &lt;/em&gt;i named him Christian.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;How old is your first born today?&lt;/em&gt; today he turns 15.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;happy birthday, son.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;so off i go to make him a &lt;a href="http://www.tasteofhome.com/Recipes/White-Texas-Sheet-Cake"&gt;white-texas sheet cake&lt;/a&gt;-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;it is his FAVORITE cake in the whole wide world. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;it probably has more calories than all the cakes in the whole wide world too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758979843643570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYyGtnzEWLI/AAAAAAAACMQ/XCYGRiuDfVk/s400/IMG_4679.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;i chose this LIFE............&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;and i don't ever want to imagine what &lt;em&gt;kind &lt;/em&gt;of life i would've had without him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-7163456297986062925?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/gCWvyABUISg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/7163456297986062925?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/7163456297986062925?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/gCWvyABUISg/first-born.html" title="first born" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYyGtnzEWLI/AAAAAAAACMQ/XCYGRiuDfVk/s72-c/IMG_4679.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-born.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8ESH05fCp7ImA9WxVQGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-176771958234483357</id><published>2009-02-05T22:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T04:53:29.324-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-06T04:53:29.324-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boys" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>sprouting wings</title><content type="html">today was monumental for me as a homeschooling mother.&lt;br /&gt;one of my students sprouted his wings as a writer.&lt;br /&gt;you may have a student like this, he is the reluctant one,&lt;br /&gt;the one who reads later than the rest.&lt;br /&gt;he takes longer to learn&lt;br /&gt;his multiplication tables and he pretty much despises any&lt;br /&gt;kind of structured learning.&lt;br /&gt;he is the middle child.&lt;br /&gt;not the oldest, not the baby and not the only girl.&lt;br /&gt;it has always been hard for him to find &lt;em&gt;his&lt;/em&gt; place.&lt;br /&gt;not just with regards to school, but in life.&lt;br /&gt;he is the stubborn one.&lt;br /&gt;the one who makes my blood pressure&lt;br /&gt;rise every time we have some sort of confrontation about&lt;br /&gt;not putting forth his best effort or paying attention.&lt;br /&gt;he is the one that made me doubt whether or not i should&lt;br /&gt;even be homeschooling at all.&lt;br /&gt;he is the reason i searched feverishly for different ideas about teaching.&lt;br /&gt;it is because of him that i found out that not all children are auditory learners,&lt;br /&gt;which you'd think i'd know, because i am not one either.&lt;br /&gt;yet he is the one with the neatest handwriting.&lt;br /&gt;he is the first one to put his boots on and lead me outdoors.&lt;br /&gt;he is the one with an artistic eye and a gentle heart,&lt;br /&gt;he can quite often be seen following the shadow of another&lt;br /&gt;small boy, his little brother.&lt;br /&gt;he has his ears tuned to the birds that frequent our yard&lt;br /&gt;and constantly comes inside with descriptive narratives&lt;br /&gt;of things he has seen as he peruses the property,&lt;br /&gt;pellet gun in hand and camera in his pocket.&lt;br /&gt;the assignment was simple enough:&lt;br /&gt;write me a paragraph about our day at nannie and papa's yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;make it in chronological order, starting with breakfast,&lt;br /&gt;which were yummy "mamacakes".&lt;br /&gt;pay attention to punctuation and spelling and i will help you&lt;br /&gt;with paragraph structure later.&lt;br /&gt;he is in the sixth grade, this should be no problem you say.&lt;br /&gt;well, not for my boy.&lt;br /&gt;this is usually a most painful process,&lt;br /&gt;ending with discouragement on his end&lt;br /&gt;and disappointment on mine.&lt;br /&gt;disappointment in &lt;em&gt;myself &lt;/em&gt;because maybe i have&lt;br /&gt;not been the best teacher.&lt;br /&gt;maybe he needed special ed.&lt;br /&gt;maybe i wasn't patient enough.&lt;br /&gt;but in the end it was because&lt;br /&gt;he just wasn't ready,&lt;br /&gt;he hadn't sprouted those wings.&lt;br /&gt;but today he did&lt;br /&gt;and it happened so much like all of the rest of his&lt;br /&gt;"learning", very out of the blue, quite naturally&lt;br /&gt;almost as if he'd always written this way.&lt;br /&gt;beautifully constructed sentences, colorful adjectives,&lt;br /&gt;very well written feelings and emotions about what&lt;br /&gt;he did, what he saw, tasted, touched and felt.&lt;br /&gt;and all i can say is&lt;br /&gt;i am one PROUD mama bird!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-176771958234483357?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/FhmIhIlH_VQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/176771958234483357?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/176771958234483357?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/FhmIhIlH_VQ/sprouting-wings.html" title="sprouting wings" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/sprouting-wings.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8BQHY9eSp7ImA9WxVQGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-47210261068204046</id><published>2009-02-05T16:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T16:40:51.861-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-05T16:40:51.861-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bird unit" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="homeschooling" /><title>the ducklings have arrived</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYuAv8EIY5I/AAAAAAAACKg/gZ-4socsOw4/s1600-h/IMG_7206.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299470947597181842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYuAv8EIY5I/AAAAAAAACKg/gZ-4socsOw4/s400/IMG_7206.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and they've brought &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chicks&lt;/span&gt; with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299471145715801618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYuA7eHSnhI/AAAAAAAACKo/AwMtUUb1zlU/s400/IMG_7360.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;my kids have taken this project much farther then i ever thought they would. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;i'll&lt;/span&gt; upload all of their birds on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;flickr&lt;/span&gt; when i get a chance, but i am so impressed &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;with the bluebirds, woodpeckers, cygnets, crows, hummingbirds &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and yes, even a flamingo with sunglasses on, that have all come out of &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;their imaginations, with just a little felt, some pom-poms and glue.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;this duckling and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;chick&lt;/span&gt; don't have eyes, but beads and glitter glue&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;work just fine in case you'd like &lt;em&gt;yours&lt;/em&gt; to be able to see.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and if you love &lt;a href="http://www.ubah.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;usborne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; books, like we do, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;usborne&lt;/span&gt; books for beginners&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;are great. they have links&lt;a href="http://www.usborne-quicklinks.com/"&gt; here&lt;/a&gt; where you can look up the book you &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;are reading and play, read or watch online activities pertaining to the book.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;you can watch a baby chick hatching &lt;a href="http://www.msichicago.org/online-science/videos/video-detail/activities/the-hatchery"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.starlingtalk.com/inthenest.htm"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;website has some &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;great pictures of baby birds.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-47210261068204046?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/4QG9TuXapj8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/47210261068204046?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/47210261068204046?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/4QG9TuXapj8/ducklings-have-arrived.html" title="the ducklings have arrived" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYuAv8EIY5I/AAAAAAAACKg/gZ-4socsOw4/s72-c/IMG_7206.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/ducklings-have-arrived.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQASHkyfyp7ImA9WxVQF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-1966904782004845701</id><published>2009-02-04T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T09:25:49.797-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-04T09:25:49.797-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>simple abundance</title><content type="html">i am loving my new book-which i got the other day at a thrift store for $1.00.&lt;br /&gt;the back cover reads:&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;in the past a woman's spirituality has been separated &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;from her lifestyle. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;SIMPLE ABUNDANCE shows you how your daily life &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;can be an expression of your authentic self...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;as you choose the tastiest vegetables from your garden, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;search for treasures at flea markets, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;establish sacred space in your home for meditation, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and follow the rhythm of the seasons of the year." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;does this sound like a good read or what?&lt;br /&gt;well, we are off to the mountains to do some &lt;em&gt;school&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;hoping to enjoy some simple abundance.&lt;br /&gt;a visit to nannie and papa's mountain home&lt;br /&gt;always does each of us some good.&lt;br /&gt;the little ones will be bird watching and doing watercolors,&lt;br /&gt;me~i want to finish my&lt;br /&gt;sunflower handwarmers&lt;br /&gt;and my husband is taking the big boys on a hike.&lt;br /&gt;they found a bedding area of a&lt;br /&gt;deer family on their last hike.&lt;br /&gt;they saw a mama, her baby doe&lt;br /&gt;and a buck, all tucked in for the night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;imagine&lt;/em&gt; that!&lt;br /&gt;my prayer for you today is&lt;br /&gt;that you'll find some simple abundance&lt;br /&gt;in your little corner of the world too.&lt;br /&gt;'bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-1966904782004845701?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/qyNn5TZHWdc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/1966904782004845701?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/1966904782004845701?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/qyNn5TZHWdc/simple-abundance.html" title="simple abundance" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/simple-abundance.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QAQn4_eyp7ImA9WxVXEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-1199169941049987971</id><published>2009-02-03T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T23:35:43.043-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-09T23:35:43.043-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boys" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nature" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="homeschooling" /><title>the great outdoors</title><content type="html">&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295112097496591346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SXwEZeEoa_I/AAAAAAAACDs/GCMllaZ9aws/s400/IMG_6408.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SXwFGL6YUjI/AAAAAAAACEE/DI5LjUkUciQ/s1600-h/IMG_6492.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295112865715868210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SXwFGL6YUjI/AAAAAAAACEE/DI5LjUkUciQ/s400/IMG_6492.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SXwEyPKCmUI/AAAAAAAACD8/1yJNWSkeAJU/s1600-h/IMG_6453.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295112522989476162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SXwEyPKCmUI/AAAAAAAACD8/1yJNWSkeAJU/s400/IMG_6453.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SXwEnPyv6EI/AAAAAAAACD0/cKxYKDQitXA/s1600-h/IMG_6415.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295112334181656642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SXwEnPyv6EI/AAAAAAAACD0/cKxYKDQitXA/s400/IMG_6415.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can remember being a child &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and sitting in a classroom,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the doors were open to let &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;some fresh air into an overwhelmingly &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;stale and stuffy room and my mind would drift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it drifted so far into the p.e. field&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;that my concentration level was &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;practically zero.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;all i thought about during those times&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;were the little flowers with heart shaped&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;petals that, when tied together, made the prettiest&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;bracelets. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;they wilted quickly, usually by the time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;recess was over, they were dead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;fast forward 20 years&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and i am so pleased that often times&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;is our classroom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the GREAT OUTDOORS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and if anything wilts, well,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it doesn't matter, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;because there is no rush.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;we can just pick more!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;they amaze me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;by how astute they've &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;become&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;watching and listening&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;for different bird calls,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and then there is &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the joy on a certain face&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when he &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;takes notice for the first time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;of the velvety stuff&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;growing on the rocks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a discussion is sparked&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;about direction and moss&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and how it looks like a little kingdom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;they bombard me with &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"look at this mama&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and this...", &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and i am filled with such&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;joy because, much like them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i am constantly amazed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;at the beauty and wonder&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;that has gone into&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;designing the great outdoors&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and best of all&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sharing with them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;just WHO is in charge of it all &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and the small talk which ensues&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;as we ponder over whether or not&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;what GOD has is like &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;having "the force".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-1199169941049987971?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/zjsv8KTm9gQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/1199169941049987971?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/1199169941049987971?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/zjsv8KTm9gQ/great-outdoors.html" title="the great outdoors" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SXwEZeEoa_I/AAAAAAAACDs/GCMllaZ9aws/s72-c/IMG_6408.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/great-outdoors.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MASH85cCp7ImA9WxVQFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-2596882437300070652</id><published>2009-02-03T10:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T10:24:09.128-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-03T10:24:09.128-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="someone else's words" /><title>shedding some light</title><content type="html">O my Lord, how You are the true friend; and how powerful!&lt;br /&gt;Oh, who will cry out for YOU, to tell everyone how faithful&lt;br /&gt;YOU are to Your friends!&lt;br /&gt;All things fail; You, Lord of all, never fail!&lt;br /&gt;It seems, Lord, You try with rigor the person who loves You&lt;br /&gt;so that in extreme trial she might understand the greatest extreme of Your love.&lt;br /&gt;All fails me, my Lord; but if You do not abandon me, I will not fail You.&lt;br /&gt;Let all learned men rise up against me, let all created things persecute me,&lt;br /&gt;let the devils torment me; do not You fail me, Lord, for I already have&lt;br /&gt;experience of the gain that comes&lt;br /&gt;from the way You &lt;em&gt;rescue the one who trusts in you alone&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;~St. Teresa of Avila&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-2596882437300070652?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/jBPY81O_Shg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/2596882437300070652?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/2596882437300070652?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/jBPY81O_Shg/shedding-some-light.html" title="shedding some light" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/shedding-some-light.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8FRng6fSp7ImA9WxVQGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-1950382031445704324</id><published>2009-02-03T04:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T16:40:17.615-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-05T16:40:17.615-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bird unit" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="homeschooling" /><title>making way for ducklings</title><content type="html">and swans too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYTSc0ZMWuI/AAAAAAAACIE/6qT5vbwFesw/s1600-h/ducklings.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297590454237027042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYTSc0ZMWuI/AAAAAAAACIE/6qT5vbwFesw/s400/ducklings.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297590531221811746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYTShTLy8iI/AAAAAAAACIM/R10R8M7ySSk/s400/swan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i stumbled upon &lt;a href="http://www.sdcoe.k12.ca.us/score/trump/trumptg.htm"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; site the other day while looking for some activities to do while we read these two books.&lt;br /&gt;there is also a link way at the bottom of the page that seems like it could be useful.&lt;br /&gt;as you can see one is for my pre-schooler and the other is for my middle kids.&lt;br /&gt;but both of them seem to be appealing to &lt;em&gt;all &lt;/em&gt;of my students.&lt;br /&gt;i know the "content" standards are for california, but if you are not in a charter, those things won't matter anyway.&lt;br /&gt;just thought i'd share the info.&lt;br /&gt;it is kind of nice to stumble upon free lessons that have already been planned and use them to &lt;em&gt;your &lt;/em&gt;advantage.&lt;br /&gt;and it makes less work for mama, which means i can plan crafts and activities instead!&lt;br /&gt;so off i go to make way for some pom-pom ducklings......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-1950382031445704324?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/-EhrJTAwYlA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/1950382031445704324?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/1950382031445704324?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/-EhrJTAwYlA/making-way-for-ducklings.html" title="making way for ducklings" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYTSc0ZMWuI/AAAAAAAACIE/6qT5vbwFesw/s72-c/ducklings.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/making-way-for-ducklings.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUERXY-fSp7ImA9WxVQFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-6387587769226645876</id><published>2009-02-02T12:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T16:50:04.855-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-02T16:50:04.855-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>and mondays</title><content type="html">i didn't want to write out the rainy days part because i am sure&lt;br /&gt;you all know that song from the carpenters'.&lt;br /&gt;rainy days and mondays.&lt;br /&gt;and yes, they both tend to get me down.&lt;br /&gt;especially if either falls on a day when the house is a wreck.&lt;br /&gt;i don't know why, but when the house is a wreck i am a wreck.&lt;br /&gt;even though my sinful nature fights against forcing myself to clean,&lt;br /&gt;i am SO much happier when everything is well-ordered.&lt;br /&gt;which is probably why i was so unhappy this cheerful, bright and sunny day.&lt;br /&gt;i did actually &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; a lot on saturday but practically nothing yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;so how could a woman, who woke up and spent some quiet time with her Lord,&lt;br /&gt;her husband home from work today, all her children safe,&lt;br /&gt;healthy and snug in their beds, be so grumpy and ungrateful, you say.&lt;br /&gt;well, i guess that's just life sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;so after feeling sorry for myself i got up from where i was sitting,&lt;br /&gt;made breakfast, fixed my hair, dressed and left to my two favorite thrift stores.&lt;br /&gt;i know you all probably went to mass.&lt;br /&gt;i couldn't because my kids are still fighting colds and mass is over an hour-one way- away.&lt;br /&gt;and so we will have to settle for a small candlelit celebration in our little domestic church.&lt;br /&gt;i am particularly feeling drawn to the feast today because as you all know i have chosen the sorrowful mother as my patron saint this year and simeon's words are resonating in my ears...&lt;br /&gt;"and a sword shall pierce your heart.........."&lt;br /&gt;my mind keeps going back to yesterday and how i eyed an almost 15 year old boy, my boy, attempt to drink alcohol at the super-bowl party we attended.&lt;br /&gt;i am trying to understand why he did it when he knew i was watching him.&lt;br /&gt;what was he trying to tell me? help me.....stop me......set some boundaries for me.&lt;br /&gt;he wasn't really being sneaky, yet he was.&lt;br /&gt;and so i stopped him. i gladly set the boundaries.&lt;br /&gt;but needless to say, a sword pierced my heart.&lt;br /&gt;i know that it is not the same sword that pierced our Blessed Mother's heart by any means.&lt;br /&gt;and unlike the mother of james and john&lt;br /&gt;i am not even asking our Lord that my son sit at His right or left in the kingdom of heaven.&lt;br /&gt;i am simply just wondering how i am going to manage to help my children get &lt;em&gt;to&lt;/em&gt; heaven in a world gone wrong.&lt;br /&gt;a world filled with temptations and lies calling out from every which way, attempting to lead these souls, whom &lt;em&gt;I &lt;/em&gt;have been entrusted with, to an eternity where they might possibly be separated from God.&lt;br /&gt;a phone call to one of my dearest friends, who also has a teenager, quickly made me feel better.&lt;br /&gt;these are good kids, her daughter and my son.&lt;br /&gt;we have raised them well.&lt;br /&gt;i thought i did all the right things.&lt;br /&gt;natural birth, breastfeeding, bed sharing, tons of stories,&lt;br /&gt;laughing, loving, cuddling, nurturing.&lt;br /&gt;he has been taught the faith, received the sacraments.&lt;br /&gt;she wonders if it is because they have money and maybe the world is starting to creep in.&lt;br /&gt;her husband is a faithful catholic doctor, he catechizes the children on a regular basis.&lt;br /&gt;i wonder if it is because we haven't always had a lot of money and maybe staying with my&lt;br /&gt;fun-loving-functioning-yet still-alcoholic husband has been a bad influence.&lt;br /&gt;i have always been faithful, but maybe i haven't done enough........&lt;br /&gt;i could go on and on, but i won't because the what ifs are endless.&lt;br /&gt;my life, just as yours, is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;if it were a recipe, it might read like this:&lt;br /&gt;one ton of undeserved-pre-packaged blessings.&lt;br /&gt;3/4 cups remnants of past mistakes&lt;br /&gt;1/2 of which turned out for the better because there is a God and He loves me&lt;br /&gt;1/4 part slivers from the Cross&lt;br /&gt;(some of which seem so unfair and heavy at times)&lt;br /&gt;1/4 temptations, emotions and struggles&lt;br /&gt;(all sent to me from Him)&lt;br /&gt;because He knows that if i continue to trust in HIM,&lt;br /&gt;hands folded in prayer, heart pierced with a sword,&lt;br /&gt;i just might make it to the "well done" part.&lt;br /&gt;you know, the one where HE tells me well done good and faithful servant&lt;br /&gt;and these mondays will go with me into eternity.&lt;br /&gt;after a little time in the fires of purgatory of course.&lt;br /&gt;i'll wear them as my badge.&lt;br /&gt;and by now......&lt;br /&gt;there is a checker tournament going on under the peppertree,&lt;br /&gt;a wooden box that needs to be built for the pansies,&lt;br /&gt;strawberries &lt;em&gt;dying&lt;/em&gt; to get into the ground, if you know what i mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; i am just glad that it's not a rainy day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;p.s. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;i hope you find happiness &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;and peace &lt;em&gt;wherever&lt;/em&gt; you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-6387587769226645876?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/hq6uWOJCsFw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/6387587769226645876?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/6387587769226645876?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/hq6uWOJCsFw/and-mondays.html" title="and mondays" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/and-mondays.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUMQ38zcCp7ImA9WxVXEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-4074809262057536630</id><published>2009-02-02T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T23:18:02.188-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-09T23:18:02.188-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="growing things" /><title>guaranteed to grow</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYJUhjAI_dI/AAAAAAAACGM/mo2acGCLrcE/s1600-h/IMG_6878.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296889047049371090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYJUhjAI_dI/AAAAAAAACGM/mo2acGCLrcE/s400/IMG_6878.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; these strawberries &lt;div align="center"&gt;are &lt;em&gt;guaranteed&lt;/em&gt; to grow and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i hope they do &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;because i hate to disappoint my helpers when the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;things we work so hard to plant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;aren't successful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;so please wish us luck!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-4074809262057536630?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/lk3Ca1n2RO0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/4074809262057536630?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/4074809262057536630?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/lk3Ca1n2RO0/guaranteed-to-grow.html" title="guaranteed to grow" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYJUhjAI_dI/AAAAAAAACGM/mo2acGCLrcE/s72-c/IMG_6878.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/02/guaranteed-to-grow.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcAQHw8eip7ImA9WxVQFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-3917058893493276894</id><published>2009-01-31T08:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T17:00:41.272-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-31T17:00:41.272-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="embroidery" /><title>chicken little</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYSDTesO93I/AAAAAAAACHk/6Jh6znUEzG4/s1600-h/IMG_7008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297503432373892978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYSDTesO93I/AAAAAAAACHk/6Jh6znUEzG4/s400/IMG_7008.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.knitting-and.com/embroidery/kinder.htm"&gt;here &lt;/a&gt;is the link&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;which will inspire you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;to make a few little dishtowels&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;of your own&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;because i know y'all&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;have nothing better to &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;do than sit around and sew.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;happy saturday!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-3917058893493276894?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/VjZ6nyxd-h4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3917058893493276894?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/3917058893493276894?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/VjZ6nyxd-h4/chicken-little.html" title="chicken little" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYSDTesO93I/AAAAAAAACHk/6Jh6znUEzG4/s72-c/IMG_7008.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/01/chicken-little.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcEQ305eyp7ImA9WxVQFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6704202368582736235.post-6561011766494554328</id><published>2009-01-31T08:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T17:00:02.323-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-31T17:00:02.323-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><title>buona lettura</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYSNg4Hrc2I/AAAAAAAACH8/_2LI-l_ZNEg/s1600-h/blackbird.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297514657654469474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYSNg4Hrc2I/AAAAAAAACH8/_2LI-l_ZNEg/s400/blackbird.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;aka good reading.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;of course we love &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ALL of his books.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but this just came last night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and as you know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;most of our reading &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;right now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;is &lt;em&gt;for the birds.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6704202368582736235-6561011766494554328?l=dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SometimesI/~4/GU0V29orfRc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/6561011766494554328?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6704202368582736235/posts/default/6561011766494554328?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SometimesI/~3/GU0V29orfRc/buona-lettura.html" title="buona lettura" /><author><name>regan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13463588415844328937</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYtFvi4GCjI/AAAAAAAACKI/kC1UxUiupcw/S220/IMG_6599.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Z3oxuw8vRGs/SYSNg4Hrc2I/AAAAAAAACH8/_2LI-l_ZNEg/s72-c/blackbird.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://dancingintherain-rubyb.blogspot.com/2009/01/buona-lettura.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

