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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;C0EARX47eyp7ImA9WhRbFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695</id><updated>2012-02-07T16:54:04.003-05:00</updated><category term="childhood" /><category term="pictures" /><category term="dinner" /><category term="movies" /><category term="books" /><category term="ballet" /><category term="wedding" /><category term="shopping" /><category term="thanksgiving" /><category term="garden" /><category term="MOMS Club" /><category term="theatre" /><category term="House" 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term="playdates" /><category term="autumn" /><category term="church" /><category term="anniversary" /><category term="holidays" /><category term="swimming" /><category term="highlights" /><category term="husband" /><category term="Jay" /><category term="Jaybor Day" /><category term="cat" /><category term="love" /><category term="Blog" /><category term="lunch. restaurants" /><category term="cooking" /><category term="moving" /><category term="collage" /><category term="babies" /><category term="list" /><category term="Glee" /><category term="beach" /><category term="Kimmie" /><category term="ladies night" /><category term="CT" /><category term="Dad" /><category term="Abby" /><category term="christmas" /><category term="winter" /><category term="wiggles" /><category term="deep thoughts" /><category term="yoga" /><category term="memories" /><category term="kids toys" /><category term="Grey's Anatomy" /><category term="football" /><category term="sewing" /><category term="Facebook" /><category term="comments" /><category term="friends" /><category term="restaurants" /><category term="Mets" /><category term="shoes" /><category term="birthday" /><category term="Lawn Guy" /><category term="vacation" /><category term="traditions" /><category term="way back wed" /><category term="party" /><category term="music" /><category term="weekend" /><category term="deb" /><category term="fashion" /><category term="crafts" /><category term="food" /><category term="mall" /><category term="quotes" /><category term="coffee" /><category term="grocery shopping" /><category term="entertaining" /><category term="snow" /><title>The Raft</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>378</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/TheRaft" /><feedburner:info uri="theraft" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MAQXk4cSp7ImA9WhRbFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-509453711284469378</id><published>2012-02-06T09:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-06T09:44:00.739-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-06T09:44:00.739-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="music" /><title>Superbowl.</title><content type="html">I won't bore you with my stereotypically female interpretation of football, the NY Giants or anything sport-related at all.&lt;br /&gt;
I am not a sports girl, unless it's my kid's team.&lt;br /&gt;
That said, I do like the Superbowl. &amp;nbsp;I like the food, the booze and the commercials and I usually like the Halftime Show.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As much as I make fun of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madonna_(entertainer)"&gt;Madonna&lt;/a&gt; for being 60 years old and still thinking that she's 25, I still love that she once was 25 and absolutely shaped my childhood with her music. &amp;nbsp;"True Blue" was one of my very first records and I still love all of the songs on it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/3600000/Madonna-80s-music-3642629-1024-768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/3600000/Madonna-80s-music-3642629-1024-768.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I fell out of love with her right around "Erotica" - the name says it all. &amp;nbsp;She just sort of went off the deep end and, for this fan, never came back.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://starcasm.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/madonnablackjesus.jpg?ggnoads" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="279" src="http://starcasm.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/madonnablackjesus.jpg?ggnoads" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last night's performance was no exception to the rule, she is an amazing entertainer. &amp;nbsp;I loved that she opened with Vogue, loved that &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cee_Lo_Green"&gt;CeeLo&lt;/a&gt; cameo'd as the black dude in their Like a Prayer performance and I enjoyed the LMFAO part. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was fun to watch, I loved the songs she chose and the choreography and extras were all awesome.&lt;br /&gt;
But, I return to my original position of "who is Madonna kidding?"&lt;br /&gt;
She is old enough to be a grandmother and she is singing about a a "boy giving her all his luvin'".&lt;br /&gt;
I don't feel like picking it apart, lyric by lyric.&lt;br /&gt;
But if this is the old lady's attempt at showing up GaGa, she's only making things worse.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Gaga grew up loving the Pop Queen, she imitates her, in my opinion, not intentionally but because she loves/loved her and Madonna's style is infused her own.&lt;br /&gt;
Madonna has taken a few pot-shots at Gaga in the past few weeks and I wonder if she's just trying to grab people's attention.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://tvsomniac.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/Lady-Gaga-Egg-Performance-500x282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://tvsomniac.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/Lady-Gaga-Egg-Performance-500x282.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I am not comparing Gaga to Madonna because I'm not an idiot. &amp;nbsp;What Madonna did for music, for women in music, for dance music on the pop charts - for all of music, in general, in the 80's and beyond is not the least bit comparable to Gaga's Egg performance or pole dancing. &amp;nbsp;If not for Madge, Gaga would never have had a chance.&lt;br /&gt;
But what annoys me is that Madonna, ignoring her age and trying to recapture the 80's, is showing a little glimmer of Gaga/Katy-envy and it's making me cringe.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hang it up, Madge. &amp;nbsp;You've earned it. &amp;nbsp;Relax. &amp;nbsp;Maybe write, produce... &amp;nbsp;maybe raise your children in peace and quiet...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a1/Madonna_at_the_premiere_of_I_Am_Because_We_Are.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a1/Madonna_at_the_premiere_of_I_Am_Because_We_Are.jpg" width="236" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
We thank you. &amp;nbsp;You can go now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
PS-&lt;br /&gt;
This was a little uncomfortable....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://queenofsports.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/spl347223_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://queenofsports.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/spl347223_002.jpg" width="239" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-509453711284469378?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hiLAJlSpFCDzYbMD6g0Cm0nITio/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hiLAJlSpFCDzYbMD6g0Cm0nITio/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/6-zjBdVvZGY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/509453711284469378/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=509453711284469378&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/509453711284469378?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/509453711284469378?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/6-zjBdVvZGY/superbowl.html" title="Superbowl." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/02/superbowl.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EAQXY5eip7ImA9WhRbFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-8568650296975909498</id><published>2012-02-04T22:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T22:14:00.822-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-04T22:14:00.822-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="CT" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="winter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="weather" /><title>I'm Just Sayin'</title><content type="html">I've said it before and I'm saying it now - living in the Northeast gives me license to want snow in the winter, crispy leaves in the fall, cold rain in the spring and hot muggy summer days.&lt;br /&gt;
That is my right as a New Englander.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I can look forward to snow in July and curse it in January. &amp;nbsp;I can long for cool fall days in August and miss hot summer nights in November. &amp;nbsp;I can yearn for cold mud and creating gardens in February and curse yardwork in July.&lt;br /&gt;
The beauty of New England is that I get to love and hate all 4. &amp;nbsp;It is why I never want to leave and why I talk about leaving all the time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51WgX8v4nLL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51WgX8v4nLL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;These hang in my living room, they have since 2002 when we bought our first house.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;And while I know that I will land about 96 hate-comments for saying this (yeah, right, no one comments!) I am going to say it anyway: &amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Where's the g-darn snow?!?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Snow is pretty.&lt;br /&gt;
Snow is fun.&lt;br /&gt;
Winters should be snowy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/200602/22/images/tt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="249" src="http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/200602/22/images/tt1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Look at the fun these guys are having!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
I don't need ice dams and 8 foot snow banks, thank you 2011. &amp;nbsp;But this is a little ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mastercraftnewengland.com/dev/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/icedam.jpg?9d7bd4" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="197" src="http://www.mastercraftnewengland.com/dev/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/icedam.jpg?9d7bd4" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I know that last winter was an&amp;nbsp;anomaly. &amp;nbsp;And I know that my post-traumatic snow-shock kicked in, big time, when Alfred hit on 10-29-11. &amp;nbsp;But here we are on February 4th and my kids have had one good day of sledding.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I hate my driveway in the winter and I haven't had a chance to curse it and cry about it once yet!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I know that February is a fickle girl and we could well be F-ed in the coming weeks and I'll eat this post. &amp;nbsp;But I think, and tell me if I'm wrong here, I think that after last year, after surviving the HELL on EARTH that was Winter 2011, we deserve a fun, happy winter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My girl wants to build an ice castle and make up stories about ice princesses.&lt;br /&gt;
My boy finally got his stamina for the cold up to more than 10 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
Santa brought sleds!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, we'd have to shovel and we might slip. &amp;nbsp;But that, in moderation, is all a part of it. &amp;nbsp;And this is boring.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tell me, tell me I suck. &amp;nbsp;Tell me I am annoying and should count my blessings. &amp;nbsp;But really, tell me you don't miss it, even a little??&lt;br /&gt;
(Don't answer that, Jay.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-8568650296975909498?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P4nSwiW2O39MkXEMMyChKGTes8o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P4nSwiW2O39MkXEMMyChKGTes8o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P4nSwiW2O39MkXEMMyChKGTes8o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P4nSwiW2O39MkXEMMyChKGTes8o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/i1DLo-thaY8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8568650296975909498/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=8568650296975909498&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/8568650296975909498?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/8568650296975909498?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/i1DLo-thaY8/im-just-sayin.html" title="I'm Just Sayin'" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/02/im-just-sayin.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAERXY6eip7ImA9WhRbEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-8273248312246271438</id><published>2012-01-31T22:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T22:41:44.812-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-31T22:41:44.812-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="deep thoughts" /><title>Some Thoughts...</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a0.twimg.com/profile_images/1767424803/Huff_Post_Pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://a0.twimg.com/profile_images/1767424803/Huff_Post_Pic.jpg" width="266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;I have been reading &lt;a href="http://momastery.com/blog/"&gt;Momastery.com &lt;/a&gt;a lot and at first I really loved it and now, I am starting to feel like she takes herself a little too seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vacuumcleaner-brands.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/Kirby-Vacuums.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://vacuumcleaner-brands.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/Kirby-Vacuums.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;Kirby came to "deep clean" my couches tonight. 3 hours and a bowl of pasta later, I am not impressed. &lt;br /&gt;
I am... but not $3000.00-for-a-vacuum impressed. &lt;br /&gt;
But really, thanks for showing me how filthy my house is.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=AQDu9EtfDFDK3LZ1&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.nbcuni.com%2Fplayer%2Fmezzanine%2Fimage.php%3Fw%3D512%26h%3D288%26path%3Dnbc-hls%2Fee6cfd63039c20855c0ad483d32e02f8_mezzn.jpg%26trusted%3Dyes" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="225" src="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=AQDu9EtfDFDK3LZ1&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.nbcuni.com%2Fplayer%2Fmezzanine%2Fimage.php%3Fw%3D512%26h%3D288%26path%3Dnbc-hls%2Fee6cfd63039c20855c0ad483d32e02f8_mezzn.jpg%26trusted%3Dyes" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;It seems to me that the Red team hates black people. &amp;nbsp;That's a Biggest Loser reference and to make this clear - their trainer, Dolvett, is a black man. &amp;nbsp;These women are insecure bitches and the "men" are not men at all. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BMjEzNjIyODQ2OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwODEzNzgyNw@@._V1._SX600_SY400_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BMjEzNjIyODQ2OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwODEzNzgyNw@@._V1._SX600_SY400_.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;I really like Chelsea Handler and I really wanted to like her sitcom but it is really hard to watch. &amp;nbsp;Laura Prepon is great, Chelsea as Sloane is great - everyone else is so uncomfortably bad. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-8273248312246271438?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CW3HCrO_XGADuOb_OHN2riujnKA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CW3HCrO_XGADuOb_OHN2riujnKA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/omkAj8h0_Wk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8273248312246271438/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=8273248312246271438&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/8273248312246271438?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/8273248312246271438?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/omkAj8h0_Wk/some-thoughts.html" title="Some Thoughts..." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/some-thoughts.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak4AQHk_fSp7ImA9WhRUFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-6099878499569475534</id><published>2012-01-24T20:39:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T21:35:41.745-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-24T21:35:41.745-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>Martin Luther King Jr.</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When the kids had the day off from school to celebrate Dr. &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Luther_King,_Jr."&gt;Martin Luther King&lt;/a&gt; Jr's birthday&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;it came up in conversation between Jay and I -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"should we be explaining why this day is worthy of no school?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It seemed, to us, almost like telling them the truth about Santa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Our kids, &lt;i&gt;kids&lt;/i&gt;, don't see color.&amp;nbsp; They don't know about Civil Rights.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;They love everyone.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;They don't see our differences, they just see people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So why would we bust that bubble to explain that not everyone has always thought that way,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;some people still don't?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jay and I have always joked that we hate everyone equally,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;it has nothing to do with race or religion,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;everyone who is not us is just very annoying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So, we decided not to let the kids in on the whole "race war" thing just yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A few days later, Abby brought this home:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D9QFWULQtqY/Tx9dEJ_G2tI/AAAAAAAAC5M/tL_JIeVUlHY/s1600/IMG_0850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D9QFWULQtqY/Tx9dEJ_G2tI/AAAAAAAAC5M/tL_JIeVUlHY/s320/IMG_0850.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Abby wrote "Martin Luther King" but said "wanted everyone to play together", which her teacher wrote for her.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I could not have said it better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-6099878499569475534?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YQUbhPJWWntitoq3x_Zel3yk24w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YQUbhPJWWntitoq3x_Zel3yk24w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/GaBRTvnmATw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6099878499569475534/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=6099878499569475534&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/6099878499569475534?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/6099878499569475534?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/GaBRTvnmATw/martin-luther-king-jr.html" title="Martin Luther King Jr." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D9QFWULQtqY/Tx9dEJ_G2tI/AAAAAAAAC5M/tL_JIeVUlHY/s72-c/IMG_0850.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/martin-luther-king-jr.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYGRH48eSp7ImA9WhRUEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-485840991940965033</id><published>2012-01-22T21:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T21:35:25.071-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-22T21:35:25.071-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>Happy Birthday Princess</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dear Abs,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As I write this I am thinking about 6 years ago tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had just about gotten my epidural and probably stopped swearing and threatening the lives of all hospital personnel around me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It had been a long day and I had high hopes for a "natural" delivery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;How was I to know that you would prove, right from birth,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;that you had your own way of doing things? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zBa6FNkFX3g/TxzDFqC9mWI/AAAAAAAAC4o/EA96v0DORE0/s1600/IMG_4735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zBa6FNkFX3g/TxzDFqC9mWI/AAAAAAAAC4o/EA96v0DORE0/s400/IMG_4735.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And here we are, on your 6th birthday, constantly in awe, in admiration, completely dumbfounded by your way of doing things.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;People say "Girls!&amp;nbsp; Be patient, it only gets worse before it gets better!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And your smart mouth and quick wit and precious sensitivity challenges me, pleases me, entertains me, frustrates me and energizes me each day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fkhgbrFOyxU/TxzDCFGzBQI/AAAAAAAAC4Y/0VMGGGcCyyY/s1600/IMG_4299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fkhgbrFOyxU/TxzDCFGzBQI/AAAAAAAAC4Y/0VMGGGcCyyY/s400/IMG_4299.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have never known anything that could fill my heart with such love, such pride and such frustration - often at the same time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;6 years old is so big.&amp;nbsp; It's not 3 or 4.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's kindergarten and riding the bus and dealing with girl drama and school work and friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-38vpOQoQ86M/TxzDAmeZHPI/AAAAAAAAC4Q/bw7ezLvX6xA/s1600/110811153836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-38vpOQoQ86M/TxzDAmeZHPI/AAAAAAAAC4Q/bw7ezLvX6xA/s400/110811153836.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I love that your dream is to be a singer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love that you dance with the freedom of pure joy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love that you hang out in your room and listen to music or&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; sit in your beanbag chair and play your Leapster.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love listening to your endless imagination as you play with your dollies&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;or your Barbies or your Lalaloopsies.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love that you sled down the hill with the same exuberance that you run back up with.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love that you come off the bus crying because someone else's feelings get hurt but&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;that when someone hurts your feelings you can say "maybe they were just feeling sad about themself".&amp;nbsp; I love that you talk to me about everything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(Everything.&amp;nbsp; All the time.&amp;nbsp; Without stop.&amp;nbsp; Ever.&amp;nbsp; Always talking.&amp;nbsp; About everything...)&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love that when I am in your classroom you are so happy that I'm there,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but you get your work done anyway.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love that when I watch you in dance class you act like I'm not there and focus on your moves.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love that you have best friends and boy friends and friends' moms that are your friends, too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lrr2uEounJk/TxzDDUVPzbI/AAAAAAAAC4g/SDZ10wNAwpM/s1600/IMG_4645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lrr2uEounJk/TxzDDUVPzbI/AAAAAAAAC4g/SDZ10wNAwpM/s320/IMG_4645.JPG" width="221" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You bring happiness into the room with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Your smile is contagious.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The things you say, the faces you make, the stuff you do,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; the art you create, the songs you make up, the dances you perform...&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;everything that makes you who you are is what makes us so happy to have you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uxenmFOnemI/TxzDHokSLUI/AAAAAAAAC44/Rz-GMcMKcUs/s1600/IMG_5639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uxenmFOnemI/TxzDHokSLUI/AAAAAAAAC44/Rz-GMcMKcUs/s400/IMG_5639.JPG" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Happy birthday, baby.&amp;nbsp; Always know that you are smart, kind, brave, funny and loved.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So loved.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_HqMeyP8UY/TxzDGULQE0I/AAAAAAAAC4w/Pc7hfhsRChU/s1600/IMG_5635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_HqMeyP8UY/TxzDGULQE0I/AAAAAAAAC4w/Pc7hfhsRChU/s320/IMG_5635.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-485840991940965033?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hz4cok_bL0Mtw-dXJeunBoe3baA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hz4cok_bL0Mtw-dXJeunBoe3baA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/H-xO1XDfNxY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/485840991940965033/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=485840991940965033&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/485840991940965033?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/485840991940965033?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/H-xO1XDfNxY/happy-birthday-princess.html" title="Happy Birthday Princess" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zBa6FNkFX3g/TxzDFqC9mWI/AAAAAAAAC4o/EA96v0DORE0/s72-c/IMG_4735.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/happy-birthday-princess.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMDQns4cCp7ImA9WhRUEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-1483713757207621198</id><published>2012-01-20T19:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T19:57:53.538-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-20T19:57:53.538-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jody" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dad" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="deep thoughts" /><title>Daddy's Girl</title><content type="html">About a year ago my friend Jody's dad died.&lt;br /&gt;
He was a perfectly healthy, (handsome) and active grandfather.&amp;nbsp; He had just retired.&amp;nbsp; He was happily married.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
He was an important part of her life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
Not because he was her dad, we all have dads.&amp;nbsp; But because he made himself available to her, to her kids, to her dog.&amp;nbsp; He was helpful and involved and happy to be both.&amp;nbsp; I didn't know him well but I know her very well and when he died I felt a sadness that I had not felt in my life.&amp;nbsp; And an awareness.&lt;br /&gt;
The funeral was so sad and equally funny.&amp;nbsp; He was spoken of in such high regard by so many.&amp;nbsp; One speech shared the goofy, fun side of him.&amp;nbsp; Jody's speech shared the loving, wise side of him.&amp;nbsp; One man has many versions and it seemed that all of his were beloved.&lt;br /&gt;
His burial was so sad.&amp;nbsp; So final.&amp;nbsp; I could only see the back of Jody and Quinn and Kieran's heads but my heart was breaking for having to imagine what my friend was feeling, sitting front row to a box of her father's dead body.&lt;br /&gt;
Pride.&amp;nbsp; Because his life was something to be proud of and because the people that were crammed into that room to view his casket and pay respect to the man one last time were proof of the kind of man he was.&lt;br /&gt;
Sadness.&amp;nbsp; Because it was one last time.&lt;br /&gt;
And Jody is strong.&amp;nbsp; She is the strongest, proudest, most independent and respectable women I know.&amp;nbsp; I can't tell her enough how proud I am to know her, to call her my friend and to watch her raise 2 of the most loving, caring, smartest, most confident and amazing kids I know (besides my own, of course).&lt;br /&gt;
I tell her as often as I can because I mean it and also because, since her dad died, I wonder if anyone tells her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My dad doesn't make it a daily - or even monthly - ritual to call me up and remind me how proud of me he is.&amp;nbsp; He doesn't gush at my daily phone calls or email me to share his daily details.&lt;br /&gt;
I barely see the man, a handful of times a year.&lt;br /&gt;
But I know he cares about what my daily life is like.&amp;nbsp; I know he smiles at the stories my mom recounts to him even though he pretends not to care to listen.&amp;nbsp; I know he is proud of the smart, confident, funny and gorgeous woman I am (imagining his thoughts here, not mine, of course).&lt;br /&gt;
I can see him smirking when he is trying not to laugh when I say something off-color.&lt;br /&gt;
I can feel him loosening up when I make fun of his rules or his weird, uptight "isms" that make other people bristle.&lt;br /&gt;
He and I are comfortable with who he and I are with each other.&lt;br /&gt;
And that is something I am so grateful for every day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today I told Jay that for the last few days, when my mind wanders, I feel myself thinking about my Dad's funeral.&lt;br /&gt;
It is not something that I should be thinking about.&amp;nbsp; He's not sick, he's not that old.&amp;nbsp; But ever since Jody's dad died, I can't help myself.&amp;nbsp; It brought about a certainty that one day it would be my dad we'd be burying because, certainly, Jody hadn't considered her own dad's funeral.&amp;nbsp; One day he was fine, then he got sick, then he was dead.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So today, as I was driving home from Glastonbury - I had hit the gym, showered, grocery shopped and was racing back north to get the kids from school on time - I found myself, once again, at the podium of some nameless church trying to describe to a room of random people why I adored my dad so much and why I was so sad at my loss.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then, tonight I had the brilliant idea to write a living eulogy.&amp;nbsp; I could tell me dad, while he is still alive and kickin', how I feel about our relationship, how I adore him and how proud I am of being his little girl.&lt;br /&gt;
But that's corny and I don't have that kind of patience.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The day will come and I'll wing it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I take peace now, in writing this and reminding myself, again, how lucky I am to have a Dad that knows me, loves me, is proud of me, and with whom I enjoy spending time with.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Even if it is in short doses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-1483713757207621198?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fehk8ucunBcgRmiSM3A7cIHWsI8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fehk8ucunBcgRmiSM3A7cIHWsI8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/1tt_50AkTk8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1483713757207621198/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=1483713757207621198&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/1483713757207621198?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/1483713757207621198?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/1tt_50AkTk8/daddys-girl.html" title="Daddy's Girl" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/daddys-girl.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMHSHY6eSp7ImA9WhRUEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-106000759325704526</id><published>2012-01-19T13:29:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T08:33:59.811-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-20T08:33:59.811-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="movies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="TV" /><title>A Few of my Favorite Things...</title><content type="html">&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://ology.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/post-image/2300928_f260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://ology.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/post-image/2300928_f260.jpg" width="270" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The first time I read this book, I dropped it in the lake and it blew up so big I had to throw it out and buy a new one.&lt;br /&gt;
Longest and greatest story I ever read.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://memberfiles.freewebs.com/73/37/41633773/photos/TITANIC---Movie/Jack%20&amp;amp;%20Rose%20-%20Grand%20Staircas.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="233" src="http://memberfiles.freewebs.com/73/37/41633773/photos/TITANIC---Movie/Jack%20&amp;amp;%20Rose%20-%20Grand%20Staircas.gif" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;So. Romantic.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.movieposter.com/posters/archive/main/93/MPW-46574" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.movieposter.com/posters/archive/main/93/MPW-46574" width="268" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This was an excellent movie...&amp;nbsp; which is a lovely coincidence...&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1Elfi1QXCsg/TJemS9JsuHI/AAAAAAAAAQs/rYrTNMo-9H4/s1600/parenthood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="155" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1Elfi1QXCsg/TJemS9JsuHI/AAAAAAAAAQs/rYrTNMo-9H4/s400/parenthood.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Because - &lt;br /&gt;
I love this show.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.worthydvd.com/images/picture/greys-anatomy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://www.worthydvd.com/images/picture/greys-anatomy.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Maybe it jumped the Shark, maybe not...&amp;nbsp; but I still really look forward to it.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.impawards.com/1987/posters/dirty_dancing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.impawards.com/1987/posters/dirty_dancing.jpg" width="256" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;My favorite movie ever.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.homorazzi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/2-broke-girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="280" src="http://www.homorazzi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/2-broke-girls.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cbs.com/shows/2_broke_girls/"&gt;2 Broke Girls&lt;/a&gt; is hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;
Is it cheap vagina joke humor?&amp;nbsp; Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;
But something about the delivery, the chemistry...&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-106000759325704526?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Vgg6qVT-pF72XzEEhTr4n9hr9AY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Vgg6qVT-pF72XzEEhTr4n9hr9AY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/Vq_HUScNkHs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/106000759325704526/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=106000759325704526&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/106000759325704526?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/106000759325704526?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/Vq_HUScNkHs/few-of-my-favorite-things.html" title="A Few of my Favorite Things..." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1Elfi1QXCsg/TJemS9JsuHI/AAAAAAAAAQs/rYrTNMo-9H4/s72-c/parenthood.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/few-of-my-favorite-things.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIBSXs7fip7ImA9WhRVGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-2801495537384615566</id><published>2012-01-18T22:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T22:25:58.506-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-18T22:25:58.506-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wyatt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>This was a fun day...</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8_pk345H1cU/TxeM5R0Y_VI/AAAAAAAAC3I/z7yZ4F7nPtw/s1600/IMG_0185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8_pk345H1cU/TxeM5R0Y_VI/AAAAAAAAC3I/z7yZ4F7nPtw/s320/IMG_0185.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ssbacxWErbk/TxeM4kuzXdI/AAAAAAAAC3A/ptS_Li3JHXU/s1600/IMG_0184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ssbacxWErbk/TxeM4kuzXdI/AAAAAAAAC3A/ptS_Li3JHXU/s320/IMG_0184.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/coybFVtRwXkMz7tg7MiWQFLpu_k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/coybFVtRwXkMz7tg7MiWQFLpu_k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/0zXqzGhSYXY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2801495537384615566/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=2801495537384615566&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/2801495537384615566?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/2801495537384615566?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/0zXqzGhSYXY/this-was-fun-day.html" title="This was a fun day..." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8_pk345H1cU/TxeM5R0Y_VI/AAAAAAAAC3I/z7yZ4F7nPtw/s72-c/IMG_0185.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/this-was-fun-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYBR3w8cCp7ImA9WhRVGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-3278747000388022046</id><published>2012-01-17T07:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T07:42:36.278-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-17T07:42:36.278-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="winter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="deep thoughts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="home" /><title>First Snowfall of 2012</title><content type="html">It's crazy that the first snowfall of 2012 is, technically, winter's first snow, too.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
When&amp;nbsp; I was a kid, it seemed to snow before Christmas every year.&amp;nbsp; We used to hope for a White Christmas but generally settled for a slushy, left-over snow mixed with dirt Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;
And last year it snowed pretty much every day from Christmas through Easter.&lt;br /&gt;
I went looking for some examples of last winter in my blog and noticed that I really was neglectful in my posts but there was one good one that I will share with you &lt;a href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/02/throw-your-junk-in-your-own-backyard.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; While that post doesn't detail the weather patterns of that scary, cold and claustrophobic winter it does wrap it up quite nicely and really, that's better.&amp;nbsp; We don't need to rehash the scary, stressful dark parts of of our past.&lt;br /&gt;
So last night it snowed and today it's beautiful.&amp;nbsp; I just said last night to Jay, as we were pushing the pails up the 325 foot country hill we call our driveway "where's the snow?" and he, of course, got pissy with me for even mentioning such a thing and of course, down it came last night.&lt;br /&gt;
That gives me a good segue to a more upbeat thought.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
How easily are you able to deal with something less-than-lovely and then put it behind you?&lt;br /&gt;
Everyone has their thing.&amp;nbsp; No one can completely forgive and forget every last indignation.&amp;nbsp; We're not Jesus.&amp;nbsp; But in every day dealings, how easily do you let things roll off your back and carry on?&amp;nbsp; Or, if someone really effs with you and really upsets you and hurts your feelings...&amp;nbsp; if you cry or freak out...&amp;nbsp; when time passes and they come to you to make up...&amp;nbsp; can you?&lt;br /&gt;
They say it take more muscles to frown than smile.&lt;br /&gt;
They say it requires more energy to seethe than to just shrug it off.&lt;br /&gt;
All that said, can you take a moment outside of yourself and say "I can understand why they felt that way.&amp;nbsp; I wish it hadn't happened the way it did but I get it.&amp;nbsp; I'm over it."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I can't sit here and type away about how awesome I am and how capable I am of doing just that.&amp;nbsp; I have my grudges.&amp;nbsp; I have my personal issues with different things, people or situations.&amp;nbsp; But, I really do try.&amp;nbsp; I really do prefer to forgive and forget.&amp;nbsp; And I truly try to find the bright side of situations.&lt;br /&gt;
When there is an argument in my house, it often revolves around my desire to find the positive and my husband insistence that I am being unrealistic and need to examine the consequences of whatever just transpired.&lt;br /&gt;
He focuses on the stress - the leaky ceilings, the icy roof &amp;amp; gutters, the run-off - while I (try to) focus on the fact that it's all over, we survived and were not much worse for the wear when all was said and done.&lt;br /&gt;
It's easier, it's happier and really, we did make it out the other side.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When someone wrongs you, you know that accepting their apology helps you move past the situation.&amp;nbsp; You know that hearing them, believing them and accepting them, as they are, helps you as much as it helps them.&amp;nbsp; No one wants to hold onto sadness, anger or bitterness.&lt;br /&gt;
But what about when you are the one that effed up?&amp;nbsp; What is you said something to someone in a fit of rage?&amp;nbsp; We've all done it.&amp;nbsp; We've all hit our boiling point and had our buttons pushed at the exactly wrong time.&lt;br /&gt;
You can apologize.&amp;nbsp; Let some time pass, eat your crow and throw yourself at the offended's mercy.&lt;br /&gt;
And when they forgive you it should be done, right?&amp;nbsp; But do you forgive yourself?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
What if the situation clears up and, socially, everyone moves on.&amp;nbsp; Are you still stewing?&amp;nbsp; Looking in the mirror and hating what you see?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I finished Jim Breuer's &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Im-Not-High-Stories-Spiritual/dp/1592406661/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;qid=1326803504&amp;amp;sr=8-3"&gt;book&lt;/a&gt; last night.&amp;nbsp; I knew his stand-up and have heard his radio show and always liked him so reading his autobiography was right up my alley.&lt;br /&gt;
I thought it would be funny, have some good gossip and knowing her grew up on Long Island, I suspected some great childhood stories.&lt;br /&gt;
I got all that and more.&lt;br /&gt;
That book was more inspiring, feel-good and happy than any other autobiography I have ever read.&amp;nbsp; And he never went to rehab, got divorced or was homeless.&amp;nbsp; He simply loves life, his wife and is appreciative of each move, each experience, each moment his life has offered him.&lt;br /&gt;
Read it.&amp;nbsp; It's quick (even for me) and it's nice and you'll feel better for having known Jim Breuer.&lt;br /&gt;
You'll also probably find yourself forgiving yourself a little bit more, feeling a little bit better about whatever situation you are currently in and smiling at the little things more than frowning over the big ones.&lt;br /&gt;
Well done, Jimmy - you helped a lot of people just by sharing your story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So now, as I go shovel the 3 inches we got over night I am going to look at the bright side:&amp;nbsp; the kids will enjoy the snow - they have new sleds and new snow shovels;&amp;nbsp; the weather is supposed to warm up so removing the snow is my biggest hurdle, no ice;&amp;nbsp; I have not had to remove any snow yet this year and by this time last winter I had removed a few feet.&lt;br /&gt;
Onwards &amp;amp; Upwards!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-3278747000388022046?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YmxpqkJZcauxisjeFzdwnKlinGo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YmxpqkJZcauxisjeFzdwnKlinGo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/WPetudW3mSA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/3278747000388022046/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=3278747000388022046&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/3278747000388022046?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/3278747000388022046?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/WPetudW3mSA/first-snowfall-of-2012.html" title="First Snowfall of 2012" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/first-snowfall-of-2012.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkMFR3Y_fCp7ImA9WhRVE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-8794327601265099649</id><published>2012-01-12T09:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T09:26:56.844-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-12T09:26:56.844-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="food" /><title>It's Creeping up on me...</title><content type="html">Like everyone else, I resolved to quit eating crap and get back into my exercise routine this year.&lt;br /&gt;
Winter is a good time to do that because I have a beautiful gym membership that has flexible hours, brilliant child care and all the classes I can handle.&amp;nbsp; Really, I have zero excuses.&lt;br /&gt;
I'm just lazy.&lt;br /&gt;
And to add insult to injury, yesterday I sat around watching the kids play in the Germ Tank at the mall while sipping a &lt;a href="http://www.starbucks.com/menu/drinks/espresso/white-chocolate-mocha?foodZone=9999#size=148691&amp;amp;milk=63&amp;amp;whip=125"&gt;venti White Chocolate Mocha&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I am not a Starbucks coffee drinker but this is one frothy treat that really soothes my crankiness and makes me feel quite peaceful and decadent.&lt;br /&gt;
Unfortunately, it has the calories of 3 small meals and the fat content for a busy day.&amp;nbsp; I had suspected that, because it's delicious, but I confirmed it on the website.&lt;br /&gt;
I am officially over it because it's not like I get one every day and yesterday I really needed it.&lt;br /&gt;
But it's a good example of being completely unaware of what we put in our bodies.&lt;br /&gt;
Weight Watchers and others have long been telling us to write it down.&amp;nbsp; Keep track.&amp;nbsp; Stay aware.&lt;br /&gt;
Every Hershey's Kiss, every handful of peanuts, every left over chicken finger from your kids' plates...&amp;nbsp; it's all going into your body and you are not even realizing it.&lt;br /&gt;
I have had days where I can look back and say "man, I haven't eaten anything today" but really?&amp;nbsp; I snacked and grazed and ate off the kids' plates all day.&amp;nbsp; Obviously I fed them.&amp;nbsp; And if I wasn't hungry there had to be a reason!&lt;br /&gt;
I have also fallen into the terrible habit of avoiding my vegetables.&lt;br /&gt;
When my mom cooked me dinner every night I never went without my greens.&lt;br /&gt;
And when I cooked for my husband every night we never went without.&lt;br /&gt;
Now, with him on the road I don't always cook a proper meal.&amp;nbsp; Mac &amp;amp; Cheese, Pizza, Pasta, Steak on the Grill...&amp;nbsp; it's not always crappy processed food but i hasn't been good.&lt;br /&gt;
I am working on that, too.&lt;br /&gt;
Last night we had baked chicken over tossed salad.&amp;nbsp; That was good and the kids liked it, too.&lt;br /&gt;
That's the kicker - the kids like eating healthy.&amp;nbsp; Well, Abby does.&amp;nbsp; Wyatt would prefer a steady diet of candy and meat.&lt;br /&gt;
So, I am trying to increase my awareness of "garbage in, garbage out" and make myself eat more veggies.&amp;nbsp; I eat fruit.&amp;nbsp; I don't eat a ton of cake or cookies.&amp;nbsp; It's the snacking and the unhealthy meal choices.&lt;br /&gt;
"We're so busy" is such a bullshit excuse.&amp;nbsp; All it takes is a little extra effort early in the week, with a dose of organization and I should be able to pull this together.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Our house is like a warehouse of small appliances.&lt;br /&gt;
We have a Juicer, a Quesadilla maker, an Air Popper, blender, food processor, waffle iron, stand mixer...&amp;nbsp; you get the idea...&amp;nbsp; I am running out of space.&lt;br /&gt;
But I have the tools required to keep it interesting.&lt;br /&gt;
So, wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-8794327601265099649?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zMxQAN-qmCY_Wl5kaZCU7Ct5UVE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zMxQAN-qmCY_Wl5kaZCU7Ct5UVE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/7towweyHTIs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8794327601265099649/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=8794327601265099649&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/8794327601265099649?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/8794327601265099649?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/7towweyHTIs/its-creeping-up-on-me.html" title="It's Creeping up on me..." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/its-creeping-up-on-me.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IMSHg6eyp7ImA9WhRVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-2462476478694454104</id><published>2012-01-09T08:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T08:26:29.613-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T08:26:29.613-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mama" /><title>A Case of the Mondays.</title><content type="html">Some days you just want to punch everyone who has the audacity to look at you, nevermind speak to you.&amp;nbsp; Some days the sound of the constant "Mommy!" makes your head spin on your neck and green vomit spew from your mouth.&amp;nbsp; Some mornings feel like 8pm will never come.&lt;br /&gt;
Today is one of those days.&lt;br /&gt;
I hate to be a stereotype but for me, it's almost every Monday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://alchemysocialclub.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/office-space.png?w=500" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="276" src="http://alchemysocialclub.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/office-space.png?w=500" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Jay leaves for the week on Monday mornings.&lt;br /&gt;
I babysit all day on Mondays.&lt;br /&gt;
Abby has dance after school on Mondays which requires my juggling act of 4 kids plus dance with a car that only safely - and legally - fits 3 kids.&lt;br /&gt;
And - why, I don't know - I usually balance the checking account on Mondays.&amp;nbsp; Dumb, I know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, this week I decided that I would make today a good Monday.&lt;br /&gt;
I got up early, I made a healthy &amp;amp; delicious breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;
It's L's birthday (the girl I watch on Monday &amp;amp; Wednesdays).&lt;br /&gt;
I am headed to BJ's and maybe Target.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today will be a Good. Monday.&amp;nbsp; Dammit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-2462476478694454104?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NxMO3SxQNf7qVhmy_iDuubWHXv8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NxMO3SxQNf7qVhmy_iDuubWHXv8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/KeFeLgsz8xQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2462476478694454104/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=2462476478694454104&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/2462476478694454104?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/2462476478694454104?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/KeFeLgsz8xQ/case-of-mondays.html" title="A Case of the Mondays." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/case-of-mondays.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAESXwyfSp7ImA9WhRWGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-4028562951736164543</id><published>2012-01-05T23:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T23:38:28.295-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-05T23:38:28.295-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="childhood" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="work" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="deep thoughts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="traditions" /><title>The Lost Art of a Ham &amp; Cheese.</title><content type="html">Growing up, one of the simple joys we had was "going to the deli".&amp;nbsp; We could walk.&amp;nbsp; When I was very young, I had to go with Christine or Edward - and probably their friends which meant having to be ridiculed or ignored the entire time - but when I hit the ripe old age of about 10, I started going by myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes I'd just go simply to go.&amp;nbsp; I could go by myself, so why wouldn't I?&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
If I had enough money, I might buy a Chocodile.&amp;nbsp; {If you don't know what a Chocodile is just throw yourself down the stairs right now,&amp;nbsp; you haven't lived anyway.}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://freshchocodiles.com/images/chocodiles_top_450w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="106" src="http://freshchocodiles.com/images/chocodiles_top_450w.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
If I was having an especially wealthy day - read: my Dad left money in his jeans pocket, unattended &lt;i&gt;and probably a few cigarettes for the walk but that's for another post&lt;/i&gt; - I might be able to afford a sandwich, chips and a Pepsi.&amp;nbsp; Perhaps even a Chocodile on top of that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes it was just candy.&amp;nbsp; The Gabriellis always had buckets of candy ranging price from $.01 to $.25 so you could really load up with a dollar or 2.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.silhouetteonlinestore.com/silhouette/thumbnails/cent_symbol_C20091125091543_22157.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.silhouetteonlinestore.com/silhouette/thumbnails/cent_symbol_C20091125091543_22157.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;**Sidebar - When did we lose the symbol for the word "cent"?&amp;nbsp; If I could have written 1c instead of $.01, wouldn't that have been cute and more to the point?&amp;nbsp; Why do such simple, happy things have to become so complicated?&amp;nbsp; **&amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When I was about 13 my Dad decided I needed a job he said it would "keep me out of trouble".&amp;nbsp; Perhaps he was right, in theory if not practice, but really - it made cash &amp;amp; cigarettes even more available.&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
He was friends with Mr. Gabrielli and Mr. Gabrielli was kind enough to hire me for $4 an hour after school.&amp;nbsp; The sisters and Mario taught me all about food, stocking, sweeping and quick math at the register.&amp;nbsp; I never dared eat anything they didn't offer me directly and I was always on my best behavior.&amp;nbsp; I basically worked in their home and was the only non-Gabrielli there so to be anything other than humble would have landed me on the sidewalk outside.&lt;br /&gt;
The only real workable skill I took from that job was how to peel a potato quickly and easily.&amp;nbsp; Boil it first.&amp;nbsp; The skin will come right off while it's hot...&amp;nbsp; &lt;i&gt;if&lt;/i&gt; you can handle the heat on your fingertips.&amp;nbsp; The 4 fingered (&lt;i&gt;total.&amp;nbsp; on both hands.&amp;nbsp; 4.&lt;/i&gt;) Mr. Gabrielli taught me this neat little trick while he laughed at my young, soft fingertips and said a bunch of stuff in Italian about how I was spoiled and/or lazy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/27556_117666241576839_8944_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/27556_117666241576839_8944_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
After that stint at Brewster Hill Deli I went on to work for Sal &amp;amp; Mike at the North Brewster Deli for several years.&amp;nbsp; I would work, quit, get a "real" job - probably at the mall - and then come back.&amp;nbsp; I learned how to fry cutlets, marinate mozzarella, pronounce supressata and mortadella, cook on a gas stove top, slice meat thin and quick (while managing to keep all my fingers in tact), stack a sandwich with more deli meat than you would buy for a family of four, pour bottomless cups coffee for the sleazy mysteriously-jobless-but-wealthy men of Brewster that would ask me how my mom was doing but never my dad...&amp;nbsp; the hours spent at that deli are some of the happiest, most gratifying hours of my youth.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.couponpages.com/Local/1998-05/north-002-01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.couponpages.com/Local/1998-05/north-002-01.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
That is where I learned that hard work paid off.&amp;nbsp; I learned that smoking 52 cigarettes in a 6 hour shift is completely normal, even if you are only 15 years old.&amp;nbsp; I learned that no amount of Dove or Tide would get that dried meat and fried oil stink off of your jeans or out of your skin &amp;amp; hair. &lt;br /&gt;
I could not eat coldcuts while I was pregnant with Abby.&amp;nbsp; Michele brought me a sandwich from NBD in the hospital after I delivered.&amp;nbsp; And it was good.&amp;nbsp; It was very good.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
Jay is always saying that what our town needs is a good deli.&amp;nbsp; We should get a small-business loan and buy something on Main Street and get a good deli/bakery going.&amp;nbsp; If there was any small business I feel qualified to run, it would be that.&amp;nbsp; I know good food, I know good customer service and I know what people need from a good deli.&lt;br /&gt;
Quick Service.&lt;br /&gt;
Quality Meat.&lt;br /&gt;
Delicious, home made food.&lt;br /&gt;
That's it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Wanna make hot lunch Mon-Fri?&amp;nbsp; Good.&lt;br /&gt;
Wanna add a Soup of the Day?&amp;nbsp; Go for it.&lt;br /&gt;
Cater to large groups?&amp;nbsp; Absolutely.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But the bottom line is this:&amp;nbsp; Serve delicious, quality food quickly and affordably.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That last word is where this state seems to get it wrong.&amp;nbsp; Maybe it's a sign of the times.&amp;nbsp; Maybe it's a population thing.&amp;nbsp; Are there not enough people around here?&amp;nbsp; Are we so conditioned to trust a Subway or a Panera or a Starbucks with our needs?&lt;br /&gt;
Can we no longer get a ham &amp;amp; cheese on a roll with lettuce, tomato &amp;amp; mayo and a pepsi for $5??&lt;br /&gt;
I love Panera Bread, but it's not a deli.&lt;br /&gt;
I love this local joint, &lt;a href="http://vernon.reinsdeli.com/ordereze/default.aspx"&gt;Rein&lt;/a&gt;'s, but it is SO not a deli.&amp;nbsp; It's a diner with a take-out counter.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
Delicious?&amp;nbsp; Absolutely!&amp;nbsp; But over-done, the whole place is just over the top.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't want to wait an hour to sit at a deli.&amp;nbsp; I want to walk in to the crowd of hungry people waiting, shuffle around till I find a place I am comfortable waiting - not in line, not at a table, not with a hostess who has taken my name, just with my body language and stance will anyone know I am in line and not being waited on yet.&amp;nbsp; When a counter person is ready they will yell "Who's next?" and I will yell "Ham &amp;amp; Swiss on a roll, mayo, lettuce, tomato."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No one will ask me what kind of ham.&amp;nbsp; What kind of ham!?&amp;nbsp; There is only ONE kind of HAM.&amp;nbsp; I did not say Virginia ham, I did not say prosciutto, I said Ham.&amp;nbsp; That only means Boars Head, thin.&amp;nbsp; There is no room for interpretation.&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe I will add a "potato salad" or "with a pickle".&amp;nbsp; That's that.&amp;nbsp; 2 minutes later, I am out the door.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I want fresh bread and a whole Mozz, salted.&lt;br /&gt;
I want a "combo" - there is not question what I am asking for.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today I drove into a place called &lt;a href="http://maxbibos.net/hartford/"&gt;Max Bibo's&lt;/a&gt; Delicatessen.&amp;nbsp; The location looked promising, it wasn't flashy or fancy.&amp;nbsp; I wondered if there was a good deli right her, right on the Silas Deane and I was missing it, all these years in Hebron complaining about bad cold cuts &amp;amp; packaged breads and here was this deli, right under my nose!!&lt;br /&gt;
So, I pulled in.&amp;nbsp; I wanted some soup and a fresh bread to bring to Jay's Gram.&lt;br /&gt;
$30 later, and without bread, I drove away.&amp;nbsp; Enough Chicken Noodle soup for -hopefully- 4 people and a handful of homemade Mac &amp;amp; Cheese made me $31 broker and 100% surer that CT, in fact, knows nothing about delis.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know how many hours Mike &amp;amp; Sal poured into their deli.&amp;nbsp; I know there was a bed in the 5x5' office and that their wives and kids visited them in the deli probably more often than they visited together in their homes.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
I would not want to be the proud owner of something I would never have a minute to enjoy.&amp;nbsp; But I desperately wish someone would.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There is prime real estate on Main Street right now.&amp;nbsp; My brain flies into motion every time I drive by that old Mobil - vacant - on the corner of "all high school kids walk by here" and "all moms drive by 4 times a day".&amp;nbsp; It's crazy ripe for the business.&lt;br /&gt;
I just don't have that kind of dedication.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And that, my patient readers, is likely the exact reason that a good deli is so hard to find.&amp;nbsp; That might be the very sad realization this blog post just brought me to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-4028562951736164543?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RJN3W89-srH9Ek0XzmQYLPthfEI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RJN3W89-srH9Ek0XzmQYLPthfEI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/K3gxV2NmNBs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4028562951736164543/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=4028562951736164543&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/4028562951736164543?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/4028562951736164543?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/K3gxV2NmNBs/lost-art-of-ham-cheese.html" title="The Lost Art of a Ham &amp; Cheese." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/lost-art-of-ham-cheese.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8DQH0-fyp7ImA9WhRWFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-524848512062621999</id><published>2012-01-02T10:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T10:24:31.357-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-02T10:24:31.357-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="deep thoughts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="traditions" /><title>One resolution too many...</title><content type="html">As a twenty-something I often scoffed at things done by people that were older - and wiser - than me.&amp;nbsp; Believing I was smarter (cooler, prettier, clever-er) than anyone else was pretty much my full-time job.&amp;nbsp; And making a New Year's resolution was something I was definitely heads &amp;amp; shoulders above doing...&amp;nbsp; I mean, really, why do you the calendar to force you to change something that needs changing?&lt;br /&gt;
If you want to lose weight, be nicer, watch less tv, read more, eat better - just do it!&lt;br /&gt;
And that's true, you can "just do" those things.&amp;nbsp; But I am sitting here, surrounded by the decimated remains of Christmas - more trash and recycling than can be picked up in one week, more food thrown out than consumed, more food consumed than ever should be, more dusty decorations to clean up and put away and more tight jeans and sweaters that have mysteriously gotten too short than I care to count.&lt;br /&gt;
So, the reason for choosing January 1st has become very clear to me now, at the wise old age of 35.&lt;br /&gt;
It's a fresh start.&amp;nbsp; The chaos of December, the disorganization and unchecked to-do's of the previous 12 months is completely behind you.&lt;br /&gt;
If you use a paper calendar (as I do) you literally cannot even see the year behind us.&amp;nbsp; Anything I wanted to do but never got around to?&amp;nbsp; Vanished!&amp;nbsp; Stuff I promised but failed to fulfill?&amp;nbsp; Poof!&lt;br /&gt;
This day, Monday January 2nd, is my fresh start.&amp;nbsp; My opportunity to do everything the right way, once and for all.&lt;br /&gt;
This year is going to be different, people.&lt;br /&gt;
I will get healthy - once and for all.&lt;br /&gt;
I will stop yelling at my kids - completely.&lt;br /&gt;
I will be kinder and more patient - all the time.&lt;br /&gt;
I will treat my husband better - he deserves it.&lt;br /&gt;
I will sweep every day and keep those hairballs from flying around - I'll make time!&lt;br /&gt;
I won't baby the boy and I'll stop over-expecting from the girl - quick turnaround!&lt;br /&gt;
I will get to the gym 4 times a week.&lt;br /&gt;
I will stop shopping impulsively.&lt;br /&gt;
I won't buy candy or cookies.&lt;br /&gt;
I won't bake and eat it immediately in moments of weakness.&lt;br /&gt;
I will quit drinking and mean it this time!&lt;br /&gt;
This is my year, people...&amp;nbsp; this is it.&amp;nbsp; No looking back.&amp;nbsp; No worries, no fears, no doubts...&amp;nbsp; I am going to be the greatest human being to ever walk the Earth...&amp;nbsp; or at least Connecticut.&lt;br /&gt;
You watch...&amp;nbsp; You'll see.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*****************&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In all seriousness...&amp;nbsp; I do plan to work on most of those things&amp;nbsp; but eating right, exercising and keeping my house in order are all I really expect to accomplish.&amp;nbsp; And by "house", of course, I mean the whole kit &amp;amp; kaboodle, not just the floors &amp;amp; walls - it includes occupants, their lives, schedules, needs &amp;amp; demands.&amp;nbsp; That's my role, yo.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy New Year to you.&amp;nbsp; Make it everything you want it to be, but don't force it.&amp;nbsp; 2013 is right around the corner...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-524848512062621999?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g1sS7Viozv5qHImLfrNqm44Qqu8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g1sS7Viozv5qHImLfrNqm44Qqu8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/7qOrM4PHtvk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/524848512062621999/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=524848512062621999&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/524848512062621999?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/524848512062621999?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/7qOrM4PHtvk/one-resolution-too-many.html" title="One resolution too many..." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2012/01/one-resolution-too-many.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8FRng8fip7ImA9WhRWEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-8978091536748819527</id><published>2011-12-30T21:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T21:00:17.676-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-30T21:00:17.676-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Facebook" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="winter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ballet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="christmas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="traditions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>Are you blogging?</title><content type="html">If you are blogging, I'd like to know about it.&amp;nbsp; Because if you are reading this than it is very likely that we know each other and I would be interested in what you have to say in your blog.&lt;br /&gt;
And, by the way, thanks for reading.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have been inconsistent, at best, but I've missed it.&lt;br /&gt;
I rarely "tweet" and I quit Facebooking.&amp;nbsp; I manage to stay in touch via those old stand-bys like phone calls, text and email.&amp;nbsp; I know.&amp;nbsp; I'm so old fashioned.&lt;br /&gt;
But even with the occasional touches that phones (of whatever variety) and email I still feel like I am somehow "off the map" and while I am personally ok with that, I worry that my friends think I am out of touch.&lt;br /&gt;
That is not the case.&amp;nbsp; I still want to be friends, and be in touch, and get together, and hear how you're doing.&lt;br /&gt;
I just resent that we all seem to think that Facebook is the only way to do that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I can be a responsible, caring, loving friend without the crutch of hourly status updates.&lt;br /&gt;
And it is our jobs, as friends, to reach out.&amp;nbsp; Friendship requires effort.&amp;nbsp; You have to pick up the phone, share your news, put out the energy to stay friends.&amp;nbsp; You have to be a friend.&lt;br /&gt;
You don't need Facebook to be friends.&amp;nbsp; It's a mirage, people.&amp;nbsp; You only talk on Facebook?&amp;nbsp; You hadn't talked in 20 years but now you're BFFs on Facebook?&lt;br /&gt;
No, you're not.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I made some connections on FB that I missed and that I have since maintained and enjoyed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I stayed in touch with a ton of my local friends through Facebook, keeping up with where and what was up.&amp;nbsp; Somehow, though, I still know what's happening, where, and with whom.&amp;nbsp; And what I don't know, I don't miss.&lt;br /&gt;
And I managed to throw together a pretty fabulous holiday party with most of them (sans Facebook) via text message.&amp;nbsp; I didn't even have a MacBook to email with at that point. (She's home now, all recovered, poor baby girl.)&amp;nbsp; As much as I loathe the telephone, sometimes I have to use it and I don't usually regret it when I hang up, smiling, after a conversation with my friend.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I made some connections on Facebook that allowed for closure that I didn't need or want to pursue further.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I made some that were people I genuinely cared for and was thrilled to reconnect with.&amp;nbsp; But without Facebook we will go our separate ways again.&amp;nbsp; But that's ok.&amp;nbsp; It's ok to think fondly about an old friend, workmate or acquaintance from your past.&amp;nbsp; That's what your past is for.&amp;nbsp; You're not supposed to collect every single person you ever knew - liked or disliked - in one room.&lt;br /&gt;
People come and go in life.&amp;nbsp; Everyone leaves their mark.&amp;nbsp; Appreciate it.&lt;br /&gt;
Then, when you run into them at Olive Garden one crazy, cold, wet afternoon and you both look like shit and you're hungry and grumpy and you have a "20 minute" wait for a table &lt;i&gt;then&lt;/i&gt; you can go on and on about each other, &lt;i&gt;then &lt;/i&gt;you can tell each other how awesome you look, how much fun you used to have, how happy you are to be together and &lt;i&gt;then&amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;you can go sit and enjoy your endless salad, breadsticks and chardonnay with a pleasant smile and a peaceful memory.&amp;nbsp; That's how it's meant to go.&amp;nbsp; You're not supposed to hear about every time their new baby shits or their spouse gets the flu or their boss is a donkey.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I do not miss Facebook.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes, I miss the connections here and there.&amp;nbsp; But honestly, if our paths are meant to cross again, they will and in the meantime, we will all go on with our lives and smile fondly when a great memory passes by our conscious.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*********&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Have you read any good books lately?&lt;br /&gt;
I have been on an Autobiography kick for a while now.&amp;nbsp; Maybe I have always liked them.&amp;nbsp; I am a nosy girl.&amp;nbsp; But it seems they have become more popular to write so they are more available and I am more aware of them.&lt;br /&gt;
Rob Lowe's book was great.&lt;br /&gt;
There is a lot more to him than hotness and that was nice to learn.&amp;nbsp; I said it then (or I tweeted it) and I will say it again - if Charlie Sheen writes a tell-all, I will be in line to read it.&lt;br /&gt;
They grew up together and there were a lot of stories that involved both Charlie and Emilio and their dad, Martin Sheen.&amp;nbsp; It was not a name-droppy kind of book.&amp;nbsp; The fact is that Rob Lowe grew up with a lot of the guys we watched him star in movies with.&amp;nbsp; That was his life.&lt;br /&gt;
If I was rich and famous and wrote a book I would have lots of people to tell you about, too and if they were rich and famous I might sound name-droppy...&amp;nbsp; but they're not, and I'm not, so I won't bother.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;(Hi, Katie &amp;amp; Melissa!)&amp;nbsp; xo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway....&lt;br /&gt;
I read &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Smashed-Drunken-Girlhood-Koren-Zailckas/dp/0670033766"&gt;Smashed&lt;/a&gt; and really enjoyed it, though my husband thought it was pretentious and aggravating.&lt;br /&gt;
And a few months after that, I stumbled upon &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Loose-Girl-Promiscuity-Kerry-Cohen/dp/B002KHMZN6/ref=pd_sim_b_2"&gt;Loose Girl &lt;/a&gt;in a Borders that was closing so I picked that up for about $2.&amp;nbsp; (btw, did you know that Borders was originally a little book shop started up by 2 brothers?&amp;nbsp; How very &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/You%27ve_Got_Mail"&gt;&lt;i&gt;You've Got Mail&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;!)&amp;nbsp; It was good, in the same way that the drunk book was good.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
I could totally relate to both vices but I was never &lt;b&gt;that &lt;/b&gt;drunk or &lt;b&gt;that &lt;/b&gt;slutty, so my arms length judgement was intact.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Right now I am reading Ellen's latest &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Seriously-Im-Kidding-Ellen-DeGeneres/dp/0446585025"&gt;book&lt;/a&gt;, which is her third I've learned since opening it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Seriously, it's awful.&lt;br /&gt;
I like her.&amp;nbsp; I like her show.&amp;nbsp; I would be interested in hearing her story of being a woman in comedy, a woman in business, a lesbian, a cat lover, a fake blonde...&amp;nbsp; any of that.&amp;nbsp; I like her.&amp;nbsp; But this book is not more than schtick and the only reason I haven't quit it is that Jay bought it for me and I don't want to hurt his feelings.&lt;br /&gt;
I am also reading a little Nora Roberts on the side.&amp;nbsp; That takes the edge off.&lt;br /&gt;
Chelsea Handler, Jenny McCarthy - both female comedians, both wrote at least 3 books (that I read, anyway) - both managed to keep it real and interesting and hilariously funny.&lt;br /&gt;
Sorry for expecting more than blank pages of "meditation" and some coloring pages.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I read the first of the 4 stories in &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Full-Dark-Stars-Stephen-King/dp/143919260X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&amp;amp;ie=UTF8&amp;amp;qid=1325295609&amp;amp;sr=1-1"&gt;Stephen King's latest&lt;/a&gt; (?) and while it was a very good story, very King-y and scary and gross and creepy it was also very scary, gross and creepy which, I realized as I wrapped it up, just is not my thing anymore.&lt;br /&gt;
I know that at least one of the next 3 stories involves rape and torture and I can't imagine there's another Shawshank or Stand By Me in one of the other 2 so I shelved that one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My mom is reading &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-I-Got-This-Way/dp/0062109758/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&amp;amp;ie=UTF8&amp;amp;qid=1325295849&amp;amp;sr=1-1"&gt;Regis&lt;/a&gt;' latest and Jay is almost done with &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Im-Not-High-Stories-Spiritual/dp/B004KAB33O/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&amp;amp;ie=UTF8&amp;amp;qid=1325295810&amp;amp;sr=1-1"&gt;Jim Breuer &lt;/a&gt;so I look forward to both of those in the upcoming months.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*******&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Winter is upon us.&lt;br /&gt;
Christmas is all but over.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
New Year's Eve is tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;
I enjoy the peaceful hibernation. &lt;br /&gt;
We'll celebrate Abby's birthday quietly - a Ballerina Dance Party for her little friends and maybe a nice restaurant dinner for the little princess ...&amp;nbsp; nothing major, no house party, no pinatas.&lt;br /&gt;
We'll head south in February for a break from the cruel, cruel world.&amp;nbsp; Snow &amp;amp; Ice be damned, we'll be in the pool, strolling along the beach and screaming through Space Mountain!&lt;br /&gt;
And we'll carry on with Kindergarten, Pre-K and the day-to-day of our lives while Jay travels to the icy mid-west and we all wait for Spring and summer to return.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Life is Good.&lt;br /&gt;
And it's good to be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-8978091536748819527?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KlEkJVQDn0Otb9_28oNo7NwE1v0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KlEkJVQDn0Otb9_28oNo7NwE1v0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/sBcUGGT0kYg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8145027880677146415/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=8145027880677146415&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/8145027880677146415?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/8145027880677146415?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/sBcUGGT0kYg/photo-card.html" title="Photo Card" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/12/photo-card.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EAQXo8cSp7ImA9WhdbEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-4678844575953494186</id><published>2011-10-10T21:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T21:14:00.479-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-10T21:14:00.479-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="halloween" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wyatt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fall" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="traditions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>Pumpkintown is for the Bees...</title><content type="html">Today might have been our last foray to the land of the Pumpkin.&amp;nbsp; I love Fall.&amp;nbsp; I love the smells, the sounds, the flavors...&amp;nbsp; I love Wyatt's birthday and how it kicks off the entire holiday season.&lt;br /&gt;
What I don't love is aggressive, stinging bugs coming at me with a purpose - only made worse when they aim for my kids.&lt;br /&gt;
Call me a ginat baby but the bees literally chased me out of Pumpkintown today.&lt;br /&gt;
No, thanks!&amp;nbsp; No, way!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, our visit was cut short but we really could have tried harder...&amp;nbsp; the truth be told, we didn't care that much.&amp;nbsp; Pumpkintown was a fun, enjoyable, season-y thing to do when the kids had pretty much nothing else to do with our time.&lt;br /&gt;
Now, with school and activities we had to squeeze it in.&amp;nbsp; And squeezing in a fun activity is hardly a good way to start out.&lt;br /&gt;
To add insult to injury, we had to pay admission.&amp;nbsp; In previous years, when it was a random weekday that we decided to head to Pumpkintown it was free.&amp;nbsp; Today, being Columbus Day Observed, we paid $4 each.&amp;nbsp; So, $12 to get chased by bees in blazing sunshine while sweating in line for a pumpkin bounce house that, according to Abby, had too much air and was not very bouncy at all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Perhaps we'll put P-Town behind us.&amp;nbsp; It seems we've outgrown it.&amp;nbsp; But it will forever be a fond memory of my tiny kiddos' Fall line up...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j447sTeWgHc/TpOWeqJN8KI/AAAAAAAAC0k/Kj8VxVO0aVk/s1600/IMG_3339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j447sTeWgHc/TpOWeqJN8KI/AAAAAAAAC0k/Kj8VxVO0aVk/s320/IMG_3339.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;2009&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AXvHdblVwVY/TpOWudqmkfI/AAAAAAAAC1E/xXO1aIJRLpg/s1600/IMG_3962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AXvHdblVwVY/TpOWudqmkfI/AAAAAAAAC1E/xXO1aIJRLpg/s320/IMG_3962.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Today, 2011&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I7B25RrfiVA/TpOWw9kWfaI/AAAAAAAAC1M/kGic3U0W15I/s1600/IMG_3967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I7B25RrfiVA/TpOWw9kWfaI/AAAAAAAAC1M/kGic3U0W15I/s320/IMG_3967.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Today, 2011&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yN354oTjZjI/TpOWjcMsxdI/AAAAAAAAC00/FJ4ICft4Syw/s1600/IMG_7467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yN354oTjZjI/TpOWjcMsxdI/AAAAAAAAC00/FJ4ICft4Syw/s320/IMG_7467.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;2010&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-giEMHX4UFgs/TpOWgDkiihI/AAAAAAAAC0s/ETfzgNj33AU/s1600/IMG_3345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-giEMHX4UFgs/TpOWgDkiihI/AAAAAAAAC0s/ETfzgNj33AU/s320/IMG_3345.JPG" width="238" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;2009.&amp;nbsp; Where's Wywy?&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fXF8SGGyBYE/TpOWlAnVupI/AAAAAAAAC08/32OYTncr8mE/s1600/IMG_7486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fXF8SGGyBYE/TpOWlAnVupI/AAAAAAAAC08/32OYTncr8mE/s320/IMG_7486.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;How Tall in 2010?&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q0J88rxdGn4/TpOWy1jTA4I/AAAAAAAAC1U/AZl5NaBEufA/s1600/IMG_3968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q0J88rxdGn4/TpOWy1jTA4I/AAAAAAAAC1U/AZl5NaBEufA/s320/IMG_3968.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Today, 2011&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-4678844575953494186?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RiRxsPCykZ44KkR9s0jvGKDagjk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RiRxsPCykZ44KkR9s0jvGKDagjk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/VsM3Ewz_RDE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4678844575953494186/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=4678844575953494186&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/4678844575953494186?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/4678844575953494186?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/VsM3Ewz_RDE/pumpkintown-is-for-bees.html" title="Pumpkintown is for the Bees..." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j447sTeWgHc/TpOWeqJN8KI/AAAAAAAAC0k/Kj8VxVO0aVk/s72-c/IMG_3339.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/10/pumpkintown-is-for-bees.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAARX86eyp7ImA9WhdUEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-545370485945451904</id><published>2011-09-27T21:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T21:35:44.113-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-27T21:35:44.113-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wyatt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>Two Weeks is like 5 Minutes...</title><content type="html">I was worried about what I would do with my "free" time when Wyatt started school.&amp;nbsp; I was worried that I would be lonely and bored.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;lt; insert ridiculous eye roll and lip twist here &amp;gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Instead, the days are blending into the weeks and the month of September is almost over.&lt;br /&gt;
I am back and forth to school at least twice a day, I am up and down the driveway for the bus twice a day, I am babysitting for a 3-year old baby girl 2 days a week, 10 hours a day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Abby goes straight from school to dance on Mondays.&amp;nbsp; I cannot take her because I have 2 extra kids, in addition to Wyatt, on Mondays and Wednesdays but I am so grateful that my good friend, her little friend's mom, takes both girls every week.&amp;nbsp; But it's a long day apart.&amp;nbsp; She gets home around 5:45, in time for dinner and bedtime.&amp;nbsp; We snuggle and talk about her day and make bedtime as late as we can because Mondays are long, and we miss each other.&lt;br /&gt;
Tuesday mornings we stay in our jammies, stay cozy and try to regroup from the busy weekend-into-Mondays.&amp;nbsp; But Tuesday morning ends quickly when reality hits and both kids are off to school and I am getting whatever I didn't finish on Monday done.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am donating my "extra" time to PTA activities and volunteering in the kids' classrooms in addition to the old stand-bys of cooking, cleaning, shopping and maintaining the household.&lt;br /&gt;
My head is constantly spinning.&amp;nbsp; My to-do lists are piling up because while most of it is getting done, I don't have time to care and check it off the original list.&lt;br /&gt;
I cannot believe how wild and busy and crazy and exhausting and fun September is!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Abby asks Wyatt about every detail of his day in Pre-K and today, she wanted me to drive her in so that she could see him go to Drop-Off and get a quick hug from her precious Mrs. Monarca.&amp;nbsp; And tonight, she cried about how much she missed her Pre-K teacher, friends and school day.&amp;nbsp; She's working so hard, she misses her easier days.&amp;nbsp; Last week, Thursday I think, she cried "why do I have to go to school &lt;i&gt;every day&lt;/i&gt;?!"&amp;nbsp; But when she was done crying she said "I guess when I'm in first grade, I'll cry about missing Kindergarten".&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;
First grade?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-545370485945451904?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l4kS-1ZHGOS2d3yr2YMAzrKUNXQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l4kS-1ZHGOS2d3yr2YMAzrKUNXQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/CjFspHrbxOI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/545370485945451904/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=545370485945451904&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/545370485945451904?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/545370485945451904?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/CjFspHrbxOI/two-weeks-is-like-5-minutes.html" title="Two Weeks is like 5 Minutes..." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/09/two-weeks-is-like-5-minutes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IBQH88eip7ImA9WhdWEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-5038440999877096768</id><published>2011-09-05T12:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T12:52:31.172-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-05T12:52:31.172-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wyatt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mama" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="traditions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="holidays" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>School.</title><content type="html">Tomorrow is the first day of school.&amp;nbsp; Tomorrow should have been the 6th day of school but, as you may have noticed, Irene had other plans.&lt;br /&gt;
So, tomorrow I will put Abby on the bus and send her off to Kindergarten.&amp;nbsp; She will be driven by Mrs. C, who she knows as Tyler's mom - not scary.&amp;nbsp; And being that she is going to Afternoon Kindergarten the bus will have only other afternoon kindergartners on board.&amp;nbsp; PM-K is good for so many reasons.&amp;nbsp; Many of which I never considered and am now so grateful for.&amp;nbsp; Not getting rushed in the morning and not having big kids on the morning bus are only 2 of those things that I never knew I would value so much.&lt;br /&gt;
Once I get Abby safely loaded onto the "D" I will then head up to Gilead with Wyatt loaded up in the Bu, ready for his first day of Pre-K.&lt;br /&gt;
He is very, very excited.&amp;nbsp; If you ask him, he will carry on about playing with toys, being with his friends and Mommy dropping him off and leaving him with Mrs. Aubrey - but coming back to pick him up - but not staying with him.&lt;br /&gt;
The very thing that has him the most excited - Mommy dropping him off and leaving - is the very thing that leaves me without breath and very sweaty.&lt;br /&gt;
I have never left my baby boy anywhere - to do anything - without me.&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, he goes to "daycare" at the gym.&amp;nbsp; It's never more than 2 hours and I am never more than a few feet away.&amp;nbsp; And if he cried or needed me, they could get me within 2 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Once I drop him off tomorrow I have to Drive. Away.&amp;nbsp; I won't see him or what he's doing.&amp;nbsp; I won't hear the funny things he'll tell his teacher or the conversations he'll have with his little friends.&lt;br /&gt;
He will be on his own, in a group of his tiny little peers, all by himself.&amp;nbsp; For the first time ever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's only 3 hours, 4 days a week.&amp;nbsp; And I couldn't have asked for a better school or teacher.&amp;nbsp; And Abby went to the same program for 2 years.&amp;nbsp; I have nothing to fear.&amp;nbsp; No legitimate concerns or issues.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am just very, very attached to my baby boy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't love him more than I loved his sister when I sent her off to Pre-K 2 years ago.&amp;nbsp; I cried that day, too.&amp;nbsp; But I didn't have this anxiety.&amp;nbsp; My heart was not racing and my stomach did not feel feathery.&lt;br /&gt;
He is not less excited than she was.&amp;nbsp; In fact, he might be more excited because he has been waiting and watching for 2 years and now it's his turn.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am not worried or anxious for Abby to start Kindergarten.&amp;nbsp; There are 14 kids in her class and her teacher is seasoned, kind and confident.&amp;nbsp; I can't say more than what my first impression told me but I already like her.&amp;nbsp; Abby would do well either way, though - that's her personality.&amp;nbsp; I don't worry about the situation she is heading into, I know Abby will adapt and be awesome.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.&amp;nbsp; My friends tell me that by the end of the month I will be thanking the heavens that they leave me (almost) every day for a few hours.&amp;nbsp; They tell me I won't know what to do with them over Christmas vacation or *sigh* summer vacation next year.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
But I know I will know what to do.&amp;nbsp; Enjoy,&amp;nbsp; Every.&amp;nbsp; Moment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will be in their classrooms.&amp;nbsp; I will be on their field trips.&amp;nbsp; I will be here when they get home and hear all about whatever they want to share with me.&lt;br /&gt;
My house will be decorated with artwork and projects.&lt;br /&gt;
And when they want to watch tv, I will happily turn it on because I will know that they have had full, productive days and deserve a little downtime.&lt;br /&gt;
I will make hot soups and crockpot dinners.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
It's almost holiday season - ghosts, witches, pumpkins, mums and corn...&amp;nbsp; followed by Santa and Angels and Christmas trees...&amp;nbsp; followed by the lingering snowflakes and snowmen..&amp;nbsp; all homemade and full of glue and sparkles!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-5038440999877096768?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rhW55Aa5zNvV0Z5ZN2HfKTAYUbE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rhW55Aa5zNvV0Z5ZN2HfKTAYUbE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/AXQ1m_U_ziw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/5038440999877096768/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=5038440999877096768&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/5038440999877096768?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/5038440999877096768?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/AXQ1m_U_ziw/school.html" title="School." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/09/school.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QARno8cCp7ImA9WhdWEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-6130279559726217909</id><published>2011-09-04T22:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-04T22:55:47.478-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-04T22:55:47.478-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lunch. restaurants" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wyatt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beach" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="qk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="weather" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jaybor Day" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="home" /><title>Hurrican Irene - in pictures</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;Day One&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
More wind than rain...&amp;nbsp; these pictures don't really do it justice.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
It's hard to capture that with the camera but it was awesome to watch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The fact that we hadn't lost power for what seemed like "the worst" of it helped my awe.&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtUDJ1ALFIU/TmQjAQ1OeOI/AAAAAAAACx0/ud29zGIYIDs/s1600/IMG_3188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtUDJ1ALFIU/TmQjAQ1OeOI/AAAAAAAACx0/ud29zGIYIDs/s200/IMG_3188.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4jmqurCYqqU/TmQjB5CrNKI/AAAAAAAACx4/ZehwQuzDeME/s1600/IMG_3189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4jmqurCYqqU/TmQjB5CrNKI/AAAAAAAACx4/ZehwQuzDeME/s200/IMG_3189.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5BdB2hTpBpE/TmQjDpJGq9I/AAAAAAAACx8/V9qeKU1BAhE/s1600/IMG_3193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5BdB2hTpBpE/TmQjDpJGq9I/AAAAAAAACx8/V9qeKU1BAhE/s200/IMG_3193.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UaGQPYjnWJ4/TmQjH2WII1I/AAAAAAAACyE/Ceo0XKuiBt0/s1600/IMG_3239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UaGQPYjnWJ4/TmQjH2WII1I/AAAAAAAACyE/Ceo0XKuiBt0/s200/IMG_3239.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u88mMAA0rwI/TmQjFWxvRJI/AAAAAAAACyA/_lzN9yE0-n0/s1600/IMG_3195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u88mMAA0rwI/TmQjFWxvRJI/AAAAAAAACyA/_lzN9yE0-n0/s200/IMG_3195.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-99cGtRNldrs/TmQjPdxB42I/AAAAAAAACyQ/C3gKmVsIq6E/s1600/IMG_3267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-99cGtRNldrs/TmQjPdxB42I/AAAAAAAACyQ/C3gKmVsIq6E/s200/IMG_3267.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ccnKK0UomKk/TmQmxdYswcI/AAAAAAAACyU/goKiBariHXs/s1600/IMG_3264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ccnKK0UomKk/TmQmxdYswcI/AAAAAAAACyU/goKiBariHXs/s320/IMG_3264.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This tree snapped and fell across the street.&amp;nbsp; The town had already moved it back off of the road when we (and the rest of the neighborhood) took our walk.&amp;nbsp; It was the photo-op of the day...&amp;nbsp; I should have charged $5 a shot!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XCBLyFxFi9E/TmQmz5nzGnI/AAAAAAAACyY/lwKpZ0tKExE/s1600/IMG_3275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XCBLyFxFi9E/TmQmz5nzGnI/AAAAAAAACyY/lwKpZ0tKExE/s320/IMG_3275.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;I arrogantly began baking this pineapple bread pudding while the storm was still raging.&amp;nbsp; I finished baking it in the grill.&lt;br /&gt;
It was delicious.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a75BcsSrBo0/TmQm1lRrAaI/AAAAAAAACyc/E42iNAEK77I/s1600/IMG_3278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a75BcsSrBo0/TmQm1lRrAaI/AAAAAAAACyc/E42iNAEK77I/s320/IMG_3278.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Cook 'em if you got 'em.&lt;br /&gt;
They were talking about 5-7 days of power-free living before Irene even reached Connecticut so we were prepared.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HWjVVSDTdG8/TmQozdFuzII/AAAAAAAACyg/cjX-IYEZ0oY/s1600/IMG_3287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HWjVVSDTdG8/TmQozdFuzII/AAAAAAAACyg/cjX-IYEZ0oY/s320/IMG_3287.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Abby &amp;amp; Wyatt camped out on our floor...&amp;nbsp; it was very, very dark.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Day Two&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After the lights went out on Sunday the wind continued to whip through the afternoon and night.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
It was very unsettling. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The next morning, however, the sun was shining and the sky was a beautiful blue.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
Jay made us coffee with the camping coffee pot and we made breakfast on the grill.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
It was still pretty fun.&amp;nbsp; Our food was still cold and our adventurous spirits were high,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-diYcvPeRjh8/TmQo1DZWxsI/AAAAAAAACyk/utvlBg4h904/s1600/IMG_3289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-diYcvPeRjh8/TmQo1DZWxsI/AAAAAAAACyk/utvlBg4h904/s320/IMG_3289.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Gorgeous morning for hot coffee!&amp;nbsp; (Really, really hot!)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-18jHcot1fkE/TmQo2tLh6gI/AAAAAAAACyo/X9wocClHRP8/s1600/IMG_3292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-18jHcot1fkE/TmQo2tLh6gI/AAAAAAAACyo/X9wocClHRP8/s320/IMG_3292.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Juice boxes in the morning!!?&amp;nbsp; Aw, Yeah!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9WBdsF9zB40/TmQo4u9wV5I/AAAAAAAACys/IHNgWZqMbL0/s1600/IMG_3298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9WBdsF9zB40/TmQo4u9wV5I/AAAAAAAACys/IHNgWZqMbL0/s320/IMG_3298.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Helping Daddy pick up sticks.&amp;nbsp; Obviously.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B6L_GiM18NM/TmQo55NbbAI/AAAAAAAACyw/vwYX4rssK-Y/s1600/IMG_3303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B6L_GiM18NM/TmQo55NbbAI/AAAAAAAACyw/vwYX4rssK-Y/s320/IMG_3303.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dinner by candlelight...&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4CaFYVk79wQ/TmQo7vaHk0I/AAAAAAAACy0/2RsrudX8Ydc/s1600/IMG_3311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4CaFYVk79wQ/TmQo7vaHk0I/AAAAAAAACy0/2RsrudX8Ydc/s320/IMG_3311.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Goodnight!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;A few things I did not get shots of Monday:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Driving out to Nel's to grab showers &amp;amp; dinner and stopping to find Q broken &amp;amp; bleeding in the middle of Charles Lane.&amp;nbsp; Jumping into action for my girl only to find that I cried harder than she did while Jay called 911 and her parents.&amp;nbsp; I'm no good in an emergency.&amp;nbsp; (At least not when Jay is there and I don't have to be.)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Watching Q get wrapped and strapped and zipped away in an ambulance.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Seeing her on the couch 2 days later, smiling through the pain and flinching/crying as she tries to get comfortable while telling me the full story of what led to our finding her on Charles, bleeding.&amp;nbsp; (And my rage at all things teenage and stupid.)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Her broken tib/fib, surgery with 2 rods, skinned and bruised legs, feet, toes and arms.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Jody wrestling with frustration, sadness, anger and stress while maintaining patience, kindness and warmth.&amp;nbsp; Being a good mommy is so hard sometimes.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Day Three&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Sitting around by candlelight was starting to feel a little icky.&amp;nbsp; We  didn't want to be "quitters" but we were getting antsy sitting in the  warm, dirty dark.&amp;nbsp; We missed running water.&amp;nbsp; A lot.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
So we decided that if there was no progress on Tuesday we would go stay  at a hotel for a night or two.&amp;nbsp; We needed a break.&amp;nbsp; Or so we thought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8uNrK8e_HQQ/TmQsrvxWbmI/AAAAAAAACy8/G3KmSR3Mg_c/s1600/IMG_3312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8uNrK8e_HQQ/TmQsrvxWbmI/AAAAAAAACy8/G3KmSR3Mg_c/s320/IMG_3312.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dunkin' for breakfast with Hershey's Strawberry Milkshakes?!?!?&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--YuBasigrWY/TmQsursEd5I/AAAAAAAACzE/b7KLDdoTAMA/s1600/IMG_3327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--YuBasigrWY/TmQsursEd5I/AAAAAAAACzE/b7KLDdoTAMA/s320/IMG_3327.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The fridge.&amp;nbsp; After.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z9vG-buCRXw/TmQsqQ5pIEI/AAAAAAAACy4/E9AhQ8siVz0/s1600/IMG_3198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z9vG-buCRXw/TmQsqQ5pIEI/AAAAAAAACy4/E9AhQ8siVz0/s320/IMG_3198.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The fridge, Before.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mVwtnQF6o5o/TmQstJv3TqI/AAAAAAAACzA/HkHp7CDiTnU/s1600/IMG_3314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mVwtnQF6o5o/TmQstJv3TqI/AAAAAAAACzA/HkHp7CDiTnU/s320/IMG_3314.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Come on, Ride the Train!!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RXwiMJ4JNB4/TmQswM0VjDI/AAAAAAAACzI/RInZC_LUXSA/s1600/IMG_3329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RXwiMJ4JNB4/TmQswM0VjDI/AAAAAAAACzI/RInZC_LUXSA/s320/IMG_3329.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hello, Sanctuary!!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eMbx_RcVLUQ/TmQsxqyW5kI/AAAAAAAACzM/Y6u9Hx8Q3ms/s1600/IMG_3332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eMbx_RcVLUQ/TmQsxqyW5kI/AAAAAAAACzM/Y6u9Hx8Q3ms/s320/IMG_3332.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This room was as big as our first apartment.&amp;nbsp; That door on the left lead to our bedroom with 2 Queen beds.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
You also can't see the sectional.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WWN54sRONog/TmQszNncKpI/AAAAAAAACzQ/iSsTGOkvOUw/s1600/IMG_3344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WWN54sRONog/TmQszNncKpI/AAAAAAAACzQ/iSsTGOkvOUw/s200/IMG_3344.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Indoor pool...&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IG2L66oAA84/TmQs0xdgeCI/AAAAAAAACzU/oqgMB5YxdCo/s1600/IMG_3345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IG2L66oAA84/TmQs0xdgeCI/AAAAAAAACzU/oqgMB5YxdCo/s200/IMG_3345.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;...takes the sting out.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Day Four&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Waking up in the hotel was nice...&amp;nbsp; air conditioning, comfy beds and warm showers are hard to beat.&amp;nbsp; Add free breakfast and coffee to that and well, I miss it right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Considering that we were staying for free with Points earned by Jay because he stays at Hyatts every week for work - he was not having a good time staying at a Hyatt "for fun".&lt;br /&gt;
And considering that our dogs were still at 131, we couldn't exactly go far...&amp;nbsp; we had to take care of them which meant driving back and forth two or three times a day.&amp;nbsp; It sounds cool, but it just wasn't relaxing, it was annoying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;By mid-day we were already planning our trip home.&amp;nbsp; We felt helpless and like we deserted our post.&amp;nbsp; One more night and we planned to head back, lights or no.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2Ao7Ket1Og8/TmQvlGEjX8I/AAAAAAAACzY/4qXncjJSvn8/s1600/IMG_3372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2Ao7Ket1Og8/TmQvlGEjX8I/AAAAAAAACzY/4qXncjJSvn8/s320/IMG_3372.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The final straw:&amp;nbsp; these 2 kids arrive for another day of fun in the indoor pool to find it locked.&amp;nbsp; "Maintenance" closed the pool.&amp;nbsp; We were already ready to go home but this sealed it for the kids.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;Day Five&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It was really nice to get home.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OMES9WHNqIg/TmQwahMfVRI/AAAAAAAACzc/iOkXErEkVyQ/s1600/IMG_3376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OMES9WHNqIg/TmQwahMfVRI/AAAAAAAACzc/iOkXErEkVyQ/s320/IMG_3376.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jay got the fire pit going and we bribed the kids to pick up sticks by allowing them to toss them in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It was a gorgeous day, the fire smelled great and I put a good dent in my book while relaxing on the deck.&amp;nbsp; Reading in the quiet, in the middle of the day, outside is one of the most relaxing, loveliest activities in the world.&amp;nbsp; One I intend to participate in far more often.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(Especially once the kids start school!!&amp;nbsp; Did I mention school was supposed to have started on Monday of this week?&amp;nbsp; Not even Winter yet and already 5 snow days deep!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We also decided on this day that without power we could not hold a proper Jaybor Day Celebration.&amp;nbsp; We pulled the plug on the 35th Annual Celebration.&amp;nbsp; I can only hope to make the 36th unforgettable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eyw3bz37D9k/TmQwckN8CQI/AAAAAAAACzg/lvWAGgBOgE4/s1600/IMG_3377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eyw3bz37D9k/TmQwckN8CQI/AAAAAAAACzg/lvWAGgBOgE4/s320/IMG_3377.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The branch that snapped and wedged itself into the "Tri-Tree" is huge.&amp;nbsp; It's basically a "Quad-Tree" now.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0SP2yFvngJM/TmQwfXj-HhI/AAAAAAAACzk/sQgp06DALKU/s1600/IMG_3378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0SP2yFvngJM/TmQwfXj-HhI/AAAAAAAACzk/sQgp06DALKU/s320/IMG_3378.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Widow-Maker.&amp;nbsp; Gotta find a tree guy.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9EM6tMFkc_Q/TmQwi4NkvtI/AAAAAAAACzs/WuvUkOoYKpw/s1600/IMG_3393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9EM6tMFkc_Q/TmQwi4NkvtI/AAAAAAAACzs/WuvUkOoYKpw/s320/IMG_3393.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;It was nice to be back.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Day Six&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We decided to take a break in a different way on Friday.&amp;nbsp; We headed to the gym - earlier than I have ever headed to the gym in my life because really, what else was there to do - exercised, showered and headed down to the shore.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We ate lunch at &lt;a href="http://flandersfish.com/"&gt;Flanders Fish Market&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yB8Bjf-vcoU/TmQ2B4DhMKI/AAAAAAAACzw/hNpDLt5HIoE/s1600/IMG_3397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yB8Bjf-vcoU/TmQ2B4DhMKI/AAAAAAAACzw/hNpDLt5HIoE/s320/IMG_3397.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Flanders offers the most delectable, amazingly delicious, creamiest, tastiest Lobster Bisque I have ever tasted, smelled or seen.&amp;nbsp; I highly recommend it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xULqSiZ555w/TmQ2DWJcEHI/AAAAAAAACz0/jkLnG4h9iAE/s1600/IMG_3405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xULqSiZ555w/TmQ2DWJcEHI/AAAAAAAACz0/jkLnG4h9iAE/s200/IMG_3405.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This girl was...&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z03BYPKGUzo/TmQ2ElFhJ9I/AAAAAAAACz4/UWFVE6Vn2xU/s1600/IMG_3407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z03BYPKGUzo/TmQ2ElFhJ9I/AAAAAAAACz4/UWFVE6Vn2xU/s200/IMG_3407.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;telling me something...&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zyL9891o0c0/TmQ2Fs4iUAI/AAAAAAAACz8/1DzLhpQjlz8/s1600/IMG_3408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zyL9891o0c0/TmQ2Fs4iUAI/AAAAAAAACz8/1DzLhpQjlz8/s200/IMG_3408.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;very serious.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mnlGRn1XqLk/TmQ2IiFHHNI/AAAAAAAAC0E/_CRWnfGF6GU/s1600/IMG_3425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mnlGRn1XqLk/TmQ2IiFHHNI/AAAAAAAAC0E/_CRWnfGF6GU/s200/IMG_3425.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After lunch we took a drive and stopped to look at the drawbridge, some boats and just the water in general.&amp;nbsp; I had hoped to find a strip of beach to walk on...&amp;nbsp; fantasized about it, dreamt of it...&amp;nbsp; but we did not.&amp;nbsp; We weren't willing to pay or trespass so we just kept on driving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QkHEJb8jXi0/TmQ2Ked-lwI/AAAAAAAAC0I/ve8POjU12Mo/s1600/IMG_3426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QkHEJb8jXi0/TmQ2Ked-lwI/AAAAAAAAC0I/ve8POjU12Mo/s320/IMG_3426.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Always making our day a little bit more interesting, Wyatt managed to get his head stuck on this little walkway.&lt;br /&gt;
He was released unharmed.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&amp;nbsp;After our shore excursion we headed to Nana &amp;amp; Papa's for dinner.&amp;nbsp; Nana baked something she called "macaroni".&amp;nbsp; We were so starved for home-cooking we ate it, but when enough time passes that we can make fun of her without it being too sensitive, we have every intention of doing that.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She's a great Nana, but she's no Betty Crocker.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c7B9dnkxn1k/TmQ2L1JraqI/AAAAAAAAC0M/w8gKF1WKVz8/s1600/IMG_3429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c7B9dnkxn1k/TmQ2L1JraqI/AAAAAAAAC0M/w8gKF1WKVz8/s320/IMG_3429.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wyatt steering the ship.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JcVkwHbc54Y/TmQ2NV4yRKI/AAAAAAAAC0Q/fgkC9ICgTrs/s1600/IMG_3444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JcVkwHbc54Y/TmQ2NV4yRKI/AAAAAAAAC0Q/fgkC9ICgTrs/s320/IMG_3444.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Our little mermaid.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
CL&amp;amp;P had already promised us our electricity so when they promised again neither of us took it to heart.&amp;nbsp; Candlelit cards and a bottle of red wine, in bed by nine.&amp;nbsp; I was getting used to it.&amp;nbsp; Truly, I did not miss tv or internet or noise.&amp;nbsp; I missed water and clean laundry and showers but the peaceful darkness was becoming comforting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That night, at 2am - give or take - the house lit up like a Christmas tree.&amp;nbsp; Bright and noisy with beeps and bloops and bops...&amp;nbsp; Jay and I jumped out of bed like we heard gun shots.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;LET THERE BE LIGHT!!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It was comforting and a relief to know it was over.&amp;nbsp; But I have to admit, I will never forget that little sliver of sadness I felt when the tv lit up and the phone glowed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Irene, thank you for the cleanse.&amp;nbsp; We all needed it.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V7Gfc3ko_qg/TmQ4NKvrT3I/AAAAAAAAC0U/dnUhfeKr6Lo/s1600/IMG_3456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V7Gfc3ko_qg/TmQ4NKvrT3I/AAAAAAAAC0U/dnUhfeKr6Lo/s320/IMG_3456.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Things I will no longer take for granted:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Flushing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Using soap and water together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My dishwasher.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My pool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Bright light.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Things I will find the time to stop and do:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;Play outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Read on the deck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Take a walk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Enjoy the silence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;As I wrap this blog entry, I have to say that I know I missed things.&amp;nbsp; I missed memories that I will never forget.&amp;nbsp; This week was not one that will be easily forgotten.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Moments of tension and stress you could cut with a knife.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Moments of laughter and peace and joy that couldn't be properly described.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Pride.&amp;nbsp; Happiness.&amp;nbsp; Fear.&amp;nbsp; Responsibility.&amp;nbsp; Community.&amp;nbsp; Love.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;It's not something you can understand if you've never lived it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;It is something that I am grateful I was able to experience.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-6130279559726217909?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UBK-1KwqRkkfNmlrfNm5nv2Ss2o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UBK-1KwqRkkfNmlrfNm5nv2Ss2o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/lhkydxRC3Rc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6130279559726217909/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=6130279559726217909&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/6130279559726217909?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/6130279559726217909?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/lhkydxRC3Rc/hurrican-irene-in-pictures.html" title="Hurrican Irene - in pictures" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtUDJ1ALFIU/TmQjAQ1OeOI/AAAAAAAACx0/ud29zGIYIDs/s72-c/IMG_3188.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/09/hurrican-irene-in-pictures.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUNRXY7fip7ImA9WhdXGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-7012943747604197999</id><published>2011-08-31T21:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T21:58:14.806-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-31T21:58:14.806-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wyatt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="qk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="weather" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jaybor Day" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="traditions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="home" /><title>Hurricane Irene</title><content type="html">I have taken so many pictures over the past 4 days, I can't imagine my camera will hold much more, but I have vowed to unload them all at once, when it's all over.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And while the storm came and went in less than a day, her effects are still lingering and likely will, for a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Some observations:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hurricane Gloria was fun.&amp;nbsp; Because I was 10.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Hurricane Irene is an adventure for my kids, who are 3 &amp;amp; 5, and have never experienced "no tv" never mind no lights or no cold food.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;People surprise you.&amp;nbsp; We know when to step up for each other.&amp;nbsp; We can be reminded of what's important.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;No one should have to live without electricity for 4+ days, not when it's not a planned camping vacation - and even then, you have running water.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;We may have to cancel Jaybor Day. &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;My neighborhood is awesome.&amp;nbsp; I don't know how we wound up in Hebron but you can't pick a better town to raise a family.&amp;nbsp; Especially if you're lucky enough to live in The Heights.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Q is one of the toughest cookies out there.&amp;nbsp; I saw her broken bones moving around under her skin and she was holding it together like a soldier.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;My husband's life of luxurious hotel rooms and restaurant meals is not nearly as luxurious as I once thought it was.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Looking forward to planning our 1st Annual Hurricane Irene Reunion Party for the 'hood - it can't only be when the power's out that we all walk around and mingle. &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Realizing that Jody and her kids are our family, even though we always knew it.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Mother Nature, in all her glory, is a force to be reckoned with.&amp;nbsp; And I reckon she kicked our ass.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Hotels are for vacations...&amp;nbsp; relaxing, prepared and budgeted-for vacations.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;The pool water is fine for flushing and washing dishes but you can't drink it.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;My husband's preparation for this storm was legendary.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Cleaning up the yard, smelling the fresh mow and the burning branches, grilling and sitting at night with AM radio by candlelight have never sounded so good.&amp;nbsp; I can't wait to go home.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;That said, the &lt;a href="http://hartfordnorth.summerfieldsuites.hyatt.com/hyatt/hotels/summerfield/index.jsp"&gt;Hyatt&lt;/a&gt; has treated us better than well and I would look for this place on any vacation I planned and looked forward to!&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;When power returns and the pictures are uploaded, I may return.&amp;nbsp; But for now, that's all I got. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-7012943747604197999?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dhPa_prBNjX6mK_2eRLhb-QaaZU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dhPa_prBNjX6mK_2eRLhb-QaaZU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/WOa-TuS-3XY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7012943747604197999/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=7012943747604197999&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/7012943747604197999?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/7012943747604197999?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/WOa-TuS-3XY/hurricane-irene.html" title="Hurricane Irene" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/08/hurricane-irene.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEHRHkzfCp7ImA9WhZVGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-5852034508873965688</id><published>2011-06-01T21:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T21:37:15.784-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-01T21:37:15.784-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wyatt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>The Days are Long but the Years are like Lightening.</title><content type="html">I can't believe it has been two years since I went through &lt;a href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2009/05/on-wednesday-i-took-abby-for-her.html"&gt;this process&lt;/a&gt; with my baby girl.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I ran into a guy that I hadn't seen in months - possibly last summer - and he asked how Jay was, how are the kids, and "what's new".&lt;br /&gt;
My answer was "nothing, life is good".&lt;br /&gt;
When I shared the convo with Jay upon my return to the homestead I pondered whether or not I should feel stupid or somehow unworldly because, truly, honestly - there is nothing "new".&lt;br /&gt;
It wasn't a long thought process.&lt;br /&gt;
I don't.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I like things to stay consistent and for now, nothing really should be "new".&amp;nbsp; I'm not pregnant, we're not moving, the kids are not at an age where they're accepted anywhere or going to finals with anything, Jay's job is going very well, the house is in great shape, the lawn and gardens are coming together quite nicely, the pool is open...&amp;nbsp; Life is Good.&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe that's not exciting but it sure is nice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What is new, however, is that I am preparing to send my baby girl to Kindergarten.&amp;nbsp; And my baby &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;boy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; to Pre-School in the fall.&lt;br /&gt;
I can feel my heart tighten in my chest, my pulse race and a lump form in my throat as I write that.&lt;br /&gt;
I know I felt a little sad about sending Abby to Pre-school (&lt;a href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2009/05/on-wednesday-i-took-abby-for-her.html"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; reference, if you choose) but I also remember feeling very, very excited for her because she was so ready and so excited.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today my baby went into Gilead Hill School for his Screening.&amp;nbsp; I assume he did well since no one came out to tell me anything when it was over.&amp;nbsp; A few parents were pulled aside and the rest of us were "dismissed".&lt;br /&gt;
Tomorrow is the Lottery.&amp;nbsp; The kids that were chosen as Peer Models are separated by gender and the slots are filled at a 1-to-1 ratio.&amp;nbsp; Tomorrow at 11, I will know where Wyatt will go to school in the fall.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"Where Wyatt will go to school in the fall."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;My heart aches.&amp;nbsp; He wants to go so badly.&amp;nbsp; He loved today so much.&amp;nbsp; He talks about going "in the fall"&amp;nbsp; all the time.&amp;nbsp; When I asked him tonight at dinner "what was your favorite part of today" he said, without hesitation, "SCHOOL"!&lt;br /&gt;
And he should love it, I want him to love it, his sister loves it...&amp;nbsp; and he's going to be awesome!&amp;nbsp; He's so smart!&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But he still likes to get into my bed in the middle of the night, just to snuggle.&lt;br /&gt;
And he has such fat feet most shoes don't fit him.&lt;br /&gt;
His fingers are so chubby and he drools all the time!&lt;br /&gt;
He's my &lt;b&gt;BABY!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know he'll be fine.&amp;nbsp; I know he'll be awesome. &lt;br /&gt;
How will I be?&amp;nbsp; Without my little buddy with me everywhere I go, all day long?&amp;nbsp; How will I drop him off and leave without him?&lt;br /&gt;
My baby boy...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One thing is certain - I am going to enjoy the hell out of him &lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt; his sister this summer.&amp;nbsp; Bring on the summer vacation!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-5852034508873965688?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BesNafntcpNeLviJS76d4Yhtu-4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BesNafntcpNeLviJS76d4Yhtu-4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/mUcfjsSh520" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/5852034508873965688/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=5852034508873965688&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/5852034508873965688?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/5852034508873965688?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/mUcfjsSh520/days-are-long-but-years-are-like.html" title="The Days are Long but the Years are like Lightening." /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/06/days-are-long-but-years-are-like.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cMQ3o8fSp7ImA9WhZXGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-3803848441725940935</id><published>2011-05-08T20:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T20:31:22.475-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-08T20:31:22.475-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wyatt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="deep thoughts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mama" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jay" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="traditions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>Happy Mother's Day</title><content type="html">Today was Mother's Day.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
Not my first but it felt like the most special thus far.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I woke up around 7 to the sound of my husband ushering Abby &amp;amp; Wyatt out of my room so that I could sleep a bit longer.&amp;nbsp; I am always up by 7 because that is when the children wake up.&amp;nbsp; Even if they get in bed with me, it usually pushes me out.&lt;br /&gt;
They got out, got dressed and went outside to help Daddy open the pool.&lt;br /&gt;
May 8th and they were out there pulling the cover off, scooping the leaves out and dumping the chemicals in.&lt;br /&gt;
At about 8:20 I rolled out of bed, into the kitchen and poured a big, hot cup of coffee.&amp;nbsp; While Jay is on the road I usually make a quick Keurig cup and rush out the door.&amp;nbsp; But when he's home (Mother's Day or not!) he almost always makes a whole pot.&amp;nbsp; And while the K-Cup is better than Instant and more convenient than making a pot for one person, it is neither big enough nor hot enough to truly satisfy that coffee luxury in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;
With my big, steaming cup of coffee I stepped out on the deck.&amp;nbsp; The trees are filling in with green leaves, the grass is getting borderline long, the fresh mulch is perfect and brown and while there are not a lot of colorful flowers yet, I can see where they're planted and picture how they'll look in a few weeks.&amp;nbsp; This is the most beautiful time of year because everything is fresh, new, gorgeous and full of anticipation.&amp;nbsp; What's to come...&amp;nbsp; warmth, sunshine, playtime, swimming, cold beers on hot nights and relaxation.&amp;nbsp; (Oh, and the weeds haven't taken over yet!)&lt;br /&gt;
Taking it all in, I see the kids running around the yard screeching and laughing.&amp;nbsp; They're playing with Wyatt's car and just basically giddy for being giddy.&amp;nbsp; That's the kind of pure joy you wish you could bottle and save for adulthood.&amp;nbsp; They know nothing of stress or worry, they only know the here and now - and the here and now is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Jay was playing with the filter, adding chemicals, scooping crap &amp;amp; bugs, doing his best to avoid scary spiders and other heeby-jeebies in the pool storage box.&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe it was 60 degrees, the sun was shining but the ground was still wet.&amp;nbsp; It was a perfect morning.&amp;nbsp; I might as well have been in a Folgers commercial.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We had brunch reservations at 11:00 so I had no intention of eating at  home.&amp;nbsp; An all-you-can-eat-buffet was about to meet it's match and I  wasn't wasting an calories with food I had been staring at for a week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TtYLQZnBMgA/TccxNLkVDVI/AAAAAAAACwA/XASAVgA0SFA/s1600/scan0010_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="229" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TtYLQZnBMgA/TccxNLkVDVI/AAAAAAAACwA/XASAVgA0SFA/s320/scan0010_4.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Bagen Family at the &lt;a href="http://www.thethayerhotel.com/"&gt;Hotel Thayer&lt;/a&gt;, Mother's Day 1984 or 5, I think.&lt;br /&gt;
This is the last time I went to a Mother's Day Buffet Brunch and I still remember it, the chocolate mousse, specifically.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
The mousse, and my disappointment at arrival when I saw "thayer" while hearing "fair" the entire car ride there.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The kids got dressed in their fancy clothes, I showered and got ready in peace (thank you again, dearest husband) and we were actually out the door on time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MD7sTWwWGvQ/TccwjQdrDUI/AAAAAAAACv0/kHpTVOZKfp0/s1600/IMG_1218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MD7sTWwWGvQ/TccwjQdrDUI/AAAAAAAACv0/kHpTVOZKfp0/s320/IMG_1218.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At the Brunch we were joined my in-laws (of whom I took no pictures, let the record show I am so sorry I missed the opportunity to get a picture of them with the kids while everyone was dressed so nicely.&amp;nbsp; Why didn't anyone remind me?) and my very good friend Jody with Q &amp;amp; K.&amp;nbsp; You may remember previous references to these friends/neighbors who have become so much more than that over the years.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The food was delicious, the company was delightful and I was so at peace and happy with my life, my decisions, my friends and the people (friends, family &amp;amp; community) that I choose to surround myself with and be a part of my life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--oueezJuLro/TccwleoQmgI/AAAAAAAACv4/RVVM4vGk1Hg/s1600/IMG_1229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--oueezJuLro/TccwleoQmgI/AAAAAAAACv4/RVVM4vGk1Hg/s320/IMG_1229.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
This brings me to my initial point, that this was my best Mother's Day thus far because I spent the majority of it reflecting and truly appreciating what I have in my life.&amp;nbsp; Not the &lt;i&gt;stuff&lt;/i&gt;, the &lt;b&gt;stuff&lt;/b&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Dky_8n9Fh44/Tccwn_168KI/AAAAAAAACv8/mLR02qJJN8Q/s1600/IMG_1230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Dky_8n9Fh44/Tccwn_168KI/AAAAAAAACv8/mLR02qJJN8Q/s320/IMG_1230.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Sometimes I worry that my kids don't appreciate how fortunate they are, I worry that they don't realize that their daily blessings are not the same for every kid.&amp;nbsp; Then, on days like today, I realize that while they don't walk around with wings on their backs and halos on their heads, they do hear us and they are learning.&amp;nbsp; I see their manners, their composure, their innocent sweetness that makes all the sweat and tears disappear and only pure joy fills my heart.&amp;nbsp; The pure joy I wish I could bottle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-3803848441725940935?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0wlnFMjuM5-asRNHKbvPpryYMUg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0wlnFMjuM5-asRNHKbvPpryYMUg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheRaft/~4/NTmuEn74_yw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/feeds/3803848441725940935/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8014144789677983695&amp;postID=3803848441725940935&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/3803848441725940935?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8014144789677983695/posts/default/3803848441725940935?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRaft/~3/NTmuEn74_yw/happy-mothers-day.html" title="Happy Mother's Day" /><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13795046361079599617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lw-ePW7v0NQ/SQZvGgqm7RI/AAAAAAAAAM4/R8wxTKjm_Ss/S220/Photo+45.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TtYLQZnBMgA/TccxNLkVDVI/AAAAAAAACwA/XASAVgA0SFA/s72-c/scan0010_4.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com/2011/05/happy-mothers-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04NRXs7eCp7ImA9WhZRGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8014144789677983695.post-3444548260117840510</id><published>2011-04-14T21:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T21:13:14.500-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-14T21:13:14.500-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Abby" /><title>Darling Diva</title><content type="html">I would have judged me if I saw me with my little 5 year-old daughter yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cz7Ti5L9caE/TaeZd0C-VGI/AAAAAAAACvU/vXJ2eNdBAAg/s1600/IMG_0595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cz7Ti5L9caE/TaeZd0C-VGI/AAAAAAAACvU/vXJ2eNdBAAg/s320/IMG_0595.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I would have had thoughts like "Some things are meant for adults, this is why we're raising a generation of entitled, spoiled assholes."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--7MNVvElmsU/TaeZ1pYozyI/AAAAAAAACvY/pTMkKhLZNAw/s1600/IMG_0596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--7MNVvElmsU/TaeZ1pYozyI/AAAAAAAACvY/pTMkKhLZNAw/s320/IMG_0596.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xWePQxLhtFY/TaeZ5oBXB4I/AAAAAAAACvg/2KZfLfxXk0k/s1600/IMG_0601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xWePQxLhtFY/TaeZ5oBXB4I/AAAAAAAACvg/2KZfLfxXk0k/s1600/IMG_0601.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You know what, though?&lt;br /&gt;
I would do it again.&amp;nbsp; In fact, I cannot wait to have a good, solid, reward-like reason to do it again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SGgAoypa4UU/TaeZ7-_kvBI/AAAAAAAACvk/iqXSNQ1HJGU/s1600/IMG_0602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SGgAoypa4UU/TaeZ7-_kvBI/AAAAAAAACvk/iqXSNQ1HJGU/s320/IMG_0602.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My Abby was such a perfectly polite, lovely and mature young lady.&amp;nbsp; She was so happy to be pampered, she said "thank you" and "excuse me" and sat still and cooperated like this was a routine she had gotten used to years ago...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IfhWl18Cu30/TaeZ-9Xn2NI/AAAAAAAACvs/zfLF0zJQpTo/s1600/IMG_0607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IfhWl18Cu30/TaeZ-9Xn2NI/AAAAAAAACvs/zfLF0zJQpTo/s320/IMG_0607.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mln0JjhNNb8/TaeZ9HkP4xI/AAAAAAAACvo/1EG61oFyQq8/s1600/IMG_0604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mln0JjhNNb8/TaeZ9HkP4xI/AAAAAAAACvo/1EG61oFyQq8/s320/IMG_0604.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
And while I know that taking your 5-year old daughter for a mani/pedi is not something to make "routine",&amp;nbsp; I do know that it was worth every minute, every penny and every ounce of self-control I will have to expend to not do it again...&amp;nbsp; tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JTf9GZZLO1g/TaeaA7L0iRI/AAAAAAAACvw/U2daRZF4qjE/s1600/IMG_0608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JTf9GZZLO1g/TaeaA7L0iRI/AAAAAAAACvw/U2daRZF4qjE/s320/IMG_0608.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-3444548260117840510?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;I went to Wal-Mart tonight &lt;/b&gt;because our printer was not scanning with our freshly updated Mac software.&amp;nbsp; The only reason I buy professional pictures is so that I can scan them and give them out as gifts...&amp;nbsp; and make a gorgeous Collage Poster for myself...&amp;nbsp; So, I needed to remedy the situation quickly.&amp;nbsp; Easter is right around the corner and I need creativity time as well as shipping time.&lt;br /&gt;
Approximately 5 years ago I picked up a printer/scanner in WalMart for something around $40.&amp;nbsp; It served us well so I figured I'd try my luck again.&amp;nbsp; WalMart's prices never disappoint but the store, the people that work in the store and the people that shop there - on Friday nights especially (I find that all the freaks shop on Friday, no matter where you are) - they make me feel dirty.&amp;nbsp; I need a shower.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
But I got my new Printer/Copier/Scanner/&lt;b&gt;FAX &lt;/b&gt;machine and I'm pretty psyched about that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;insert cyrus="" here="" impression="" miley=""&gt;&amp;nbsp; "It's pretty cool!"&lt;/insert&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lgmcorwOHH1qb3920o1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lgmcorwOHH1qb3920o1_400.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;After I left WalMart I headed out &lt;/b&gt;to P-Chop, Price Chopper to the rest of you...&amp;nbsp; this is part of why I posted on Facebook about feeling "lame".&amp;nbsp; I try to make it to the chiropractor once a week.&amp;nbsp; I try to make that appointment at a time where I can leave the kids at home.&amp;nbsp; Can I bring the kids?&amp;nbsp; Sure.&amp;nbsp; Is it a &lt;i&gt;thousand times&amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;more relaxing and therefore, more effective, when I can relax and be on my own?&amp;nbsp; Yup.&lt;br /&gt;
So, it has become a bit of our routine that when Jay is home for the weekend, he has alone time with the kids on Friday night and I have alone time with myself.&lt;br /&gt;
It works out beautifully because I can get out without paying a sitter - and I do need it after non-stop one-on-one time Monday through Thursday - and Daddy gets alone time with the kids...&amp;nbsp; that way he can remember why flying on 4 planes every week, week after week, really isn't all that bad.&lt;br /&gt;
I kid, I kid.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;I went to the chiropractor &lt;/b&gt;and then to WalMart and then to the grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;
And I &lt;i&gt;loved it.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;I find alone-grocery-shopping very relaxing.&amp;nbsp; It's using that "buy-high" properly, really.&lt;br /&gt;
Leading up to that FB post, I was feeling a little insecure about this simple act that brings me such joy.&amp;nbsp; But after posting it and hearing back from so many of my mama friends that they, too, recognize their lame-ness, and texting with one particular Love, I realized something.&lt;br /&gt;
A few things, really...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1.&amp;nbsp; This stay-at-home-mom gig can be very isolating, very lonely at times.&amp;nbsp; Connecting through Facebook, Text and Twitter keeps me from letting myself go completely.&amp;nbsp; I shave my legs and wax my upper lip on a regular basis even though I rarely see anyone that would notice or care.&lt;br /&gt;
2.&amp;nbsp; I have a lot of mama-friends that I like a lot.&amp;nbsp; My day-to-day is full of social activities for me and the kids that make us happy.&amp;nbsp; I love living in this town and staying involved.&lt;br /&gt;
3.&amp;nbsp; When I am not best friends with every single one of those mama-friends, (sometimes I don't even actually like all of them!) I need only spend a moment alone with myself to remind myself that I have a short list of very good, loving and fabulous friends that make it all worthwhile.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
Friends that love me for me - faults and fabulous - and I feel the same way about them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The older we get, the more time and treasure we harvest with those friends.&amp;nbsp; I love that.&amp;nbsp; I love that my kids have best friends that live outside of our zip code.&amp;nbsp; Growing up, my parents didn't hold onto many friendships and I can't even count on one hand who my friends were that weren't from school or Shore Drive.&amp;nbsp; I admire the kids that could, and still do - and I am so happy that we are providing that kind of childhood for our kids.&amp;nbsp; And without trying to...&amp;nbsp; it's just how we roll.&amp;nbsp; That makes it even better.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Treasure your day to day.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-1884699730194656497?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Every day I got up and went in.&amp;nbsp; I showered and wore makeup.&amp;nbsp; Most days, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
And when I was working I would often use the phrase "First In, First Out" or "FIFO".&amp;nbsp; We also said "LIFO" but that was not as common.&lt;br /&gt;
The phrase referred to certain retirement plans.&amp;nbsp; The money that went into the plan first was removed first at retirement - meaning, in most cases, clients were going to have to pay taxes on that income that they had not yet paid taxes on because they had invested it immediately.&lt;br /&gt;
For the past couple of weeks I have been saying "FIFO" in a very different way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My beautiful baby girl has been wiggling her very first loose tooth.&amp;nbsp; The looseness was first discovered about 2 weeks ago (give or take, short-term memory is not my strong suit) and unless my long-term memory deceives me, it was in fact, the very first one to grow in back in June, 2006.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PJveCk2vakQ/TZMg0n35KjI/AAAAAAAACu8/bncpoQcjGTo/s1600/P49501006_007_049_072006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PJveCk2vakQ/TZMg0n35KjI/AAAAAAAACu8/bncpoQcjGTo/s1600/P49501006_007_049_072006.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here she is, pointing to her first 2 teeth.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PYDewj6dusw/TZMg0IhDZqI/AAAAAAAACu4/-X6ofDUBTIk/s1600/0608040008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PYDewj6dusw/TZMg0IhDZqI/AAAAAAAACu4/-X6ofDUBTIk/s320/0608040008.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;At this point you pretty much wanted to steer clear of those chompers - or risk losing a finger.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m0oFyt0koAA/TZMg0-y-sHI/AAAAAAAACvA/Ou1AOtcp6oU/s1600/sqk_1031096_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m0oFyt0koAA/TZMg0-y-sHI/AAAAAAAACvA/Ou1AOtcp6oU/s320/sqk_1031096_01.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Did this kid ever close her mouth?&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The final hours of the tooth's life was not without it's drama.&lt;br /&gt;
It was literally hanging by a thread and Abby was beside herself with fear.&amp;nbsp; She was crying with huge tears and snot bubbles, deep shuddered breaths of "I'm Sca-a-a-a-a-a-a-red" but she was very brave.&amp;nbsp; She was afraid it was going to hurt.&amp;nbsp; This is a girl who waits for bandaids to fall off on their own.&amp;nbsp; She did not want me to even look at it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After some time (and some Tylenol) she calmed down enough to be treated to a Smoothie - on the &lt;i&gt;couch&lt;/i&gt; while resting comfortably with a blanket &amp;amp; pillow.&amp;nbsp; I was in the kitchen when I heard a quiet, not alarmed but sort of amazed "Mommy!"&lt;br /&gt;
I walked in and was greeted with a tiny little hand holding out an even tinier little tooth.&lt;br /&gt;
It was out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know that was a tiny tooth in a tiny mouth but I had not idea &lt;i&gt;how tiny&lt;/i&gt; it was until it was in my mama-sized hand.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
I was overwhelmed.&amp;nbsp; I cheered, I got choked up, I hugged her, I was beaming!&amp;nbsp; What an amazing thing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Babies grow teeth.&lt;br /&gt;
Big girls lose them.&lt;br /&gt;
My baby is a big girl!&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-21q-R8-yX8U/TZMiBdW7hLI/AAAAAAAACvI/5i8bP5iZTHc/s1600/IMG_0414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-21q-R8-yX8U/TZMiBdW7hLI/AAAAAAAACvI/5i8bP5iZTHc/s320/IMG_0414.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Being that this was her first tooth, her Daddy &amp;amp; I left her a little treat (Tangled on DVD - what a great movie!) and the Tooth Fairy was super-generous to celebrate the inaugural tooth with $10.&lt;br /&gt;
Abby was so excited to use the special Tooth Fairy Box that Jody, Q &amp;amp; K gave her at her Baptism and the Tooth Fairy definitely came because the tooth was gone in the morning!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IOfQOhGBcEM/TZMh_aDNPxI/AAAAAAAACvE/aBLedAYxi20/s1600/IMG_0412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IOfQOhGBcEM/TZMh_aDNPxI/AAAAAAAACvE/aBLedAYxi20/s320/IMG_0412.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
It was a very big deal.&amp;nbsp; We are all very excited.&lt;br /&gt;
Let's just hope the big girl realizes the first one is the big deal and she'll need to tone it down as we go through the next 19.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8014144789677983695-6491396487879879495?l=goingouttotheraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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