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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;DUYCQXc4cCp7ImA9WhRaFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:06:00.938-06:00</updated><category term="Sick Spouse" /><category term="Emmi" /><category term="Kellan" /><category term="Dialysis" /><category term="Moi" /><category term="Lovely Moments" /><category term="Hilarity" /><category term="Kidney Failure" /><category term="Purging" /><category term="Christmas" /><category term="Vanity" /><category term="Friends" /><category term="Thrift Shopping" /><category term="Living Life" /><category term="Hubby" /><category term="Recipes" /><category term="Fall" /><category term="Caretaker" /><category term="Struggles" /><category term="Reminiscing" /><category term="School" /><title>Shades of Laughter</title><subtitle type="html">Random Thoughts, Ponderings &amp;amp; Excerpts of My Life</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</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/blogspot/zDUEV" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/zduev" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>blogspot/zDUEV</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAHSXY7fyp7ImA9WhRUE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-6748443911763595856</id><published>2011-12-12T00:50:00.033-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T22:18:58.807-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-23T22:18:58.807-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>Christmas Treasures and Wish Lists too</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Christmas time is here! Our favorite time of year! I just finished reading Emmi 'The Night Before Christmas'. Last night it was Donnie's turn to read it. And every day, I mean EVERY DAY, she tells us how many days there are left until Christmas! So the countdown is definitely on and both the kids are extremely excited about Christmas this year, but I have to admit Donnie and I are too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Living Room Tree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wd9gYCrQqig/TuZGfLfnGeI/AAAAAAAAAXw/IUoJ4s1NsqU/s1600/47600_1574039505685_1076481776_31217156_7006276_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wd9gYCrQqig/TuZGfLfnGeI/AAAAAAAAAXw/IUoJ4s1NsqU/s400/47600_1574039505685_1076481776_31217156_7006276_n.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ykw4YD0Ccgs/TuZGjwMR-yI/AAAAAAAAAYA/g0VxNy934AE/s1600/155734_1563528362913_1076481776_31200040_4175786_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7_i1DZlboxc/TuZGkQ4b1JI/AAAAAAAAAYI/YIRRF3TAfWA/s1600/155880_1563531402989_1076481776_31200044_5828015_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;After Donnie being ill through the holidays last year and being so full of worry, anxiety and fear during a time we would normally be celebrating with friends or family, this year we have definitely been looking forward to Christmas with so much excitement. Last year on Christmas day we were at the ER with the kids sitting on the floor of the hospital playing with one of their new toys and no Christmas dinner to enjoy. This year, with dialysis helping maintain Donnie's health, we can't wait for Christmas day. Did I mention we're excited about Christmas this year? Because WE ARE!! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Emmi's Tree &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7_i1DZlboxc/TuZGkQ4b1JI/AAAAAAAAAYI/YIRRF3TAfWA/s1600/155880_1563531402989_1076481776_31200044_5828015_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7_i1DZlboxc/TuZGkQ4b1JI/AAAAAAAAAYI/YIRRF3TAfWA/s400/155880_1563531402989_1076481776_31200044_5828015_n.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;AND we are so very thankful to be able to have another holiday together. Going through illness or seeing someone you love battling illness along with anxiety and fear makes you not want to take one moment for granted. Every day is full of treasured moments and we love to enjoy the simple moments of living life together. Hugs, kisses and holding hands with my babies and my sweet husband still daily bring tears to my eyes. We are truly a blessed family!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Kellan's Tree &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ykw4YD0Ccgs/TuZGjwMR-yI/AAAAAAAAAYA/g0VxNy934AE/s1600/155734_1563528362913_1076481776_31200040_4175786_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ykw4YD0Ccgs/TuZGjwMR-yI/AAAAAAAAAYA/g0VxNy934AE/s320/155734_1563528362913_1076481776_31200040_4175786_n.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-6748443911763595856?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u3Tyz50K9hVek0fBXcfuq-e26to/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u3Tyz50K9hVek0fBXcfuq-e26to/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/CqgxVRuRcNs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/6748443911763595856/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=6748443911763595856" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/6748443911763595856?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/6748443911763595856?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/CqgxVRuRcNs/christmas-treasures-and-wish-lists-too.html" title="Christmas Treasures and Wish Lists too" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wd9gYCrQqig/TuZGfLfnGeI/AAAAAAAAAXw/IUoJ4s1NsqU/s72-c/47600_1574039505685_1076481776_31217156_7006276_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-treasures-and-wish-lists-too.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAERX4zfip7ImA9WhdXE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-1341724820824410757</id><published>2011-08-26T14:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T14:41:44.086-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-26T14:41:44.086-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="School" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hilarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Kellan" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Emmi" /><title>School's In!</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Today ends week 1 of back to school for my kiddos. Kellan has entered 3rd grade and Emelia is in 1st. Here is a snapshot of their first week of school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;The first day of school  when I picked Kellan up I was there 15 minutes early and had to wait  about 30 minutes altogether before he was in the car. He was red, hot  and grumpy. I was asking him questions about his first day and all I got  were angry one word answers! I started laughing and asked him why he  was so grumpy with me? It was because he had to sit out in the heat for  SO LONG and thought I was late in picking him up. Then I showed him the  line of cars STILL waiting to get their kids from school as we drove  down the road and he chuckled and said ummmm Sorry!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Kellan really likes his teacher and thinks she is funny. He's very glad some of his friends are in his class and he's already making new friends too. He still is a little shy at recess and kind of sticks to being on his own there. He wants me to make him a lunch kit sometimes instead of going through the cafeteria line and he loved that he didn't have any homework the first week. I kind of liked that too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;When Emmi got in the car the first day after school, she immediately told me how pretty her teacher was, detailing the black and white blouse she had on, her black high heels and the way her hair was held back in a partial pony tail and then flowed down her back with the rest of her hair and its really, REALLY long.  She talked NON-STOP from the moment she got in the car until we were tucking her in bed and I am not exaggerating. Apparently, returning back to school agrees with her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Except for the mornings that is. Hello Meltdown City. Screams, tears, cries, snot and stomping were heard throughout the house on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday due to her OCD sensory issues. Her shoes don't feel right and her jeans are too tight. I was TRYING to wait until it got cooler to buy her more jeans and THOUGHT her last 3 pairs would make it until then (she just tried them on 2 weeks ago and they still fit then!). But it looks like we have to go shopping which my account will not like but SHE will LOVE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;OH! And she informed me last night that a young man in her class by the name of "Wade" put his arm around her at the car ramp on Wednesday afternoon.  WHAT??? She giggled and said she told him to stop twice before he moved his arm. I looked at Donnie and said ummm, aren't 1st graders too young to be making moves? And then I had a flashback of myself in kindergarten chasing the boys in the playground trying to make them kiss me. And I guess, well, maybe it's not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/26/2912.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/26/s_2912.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;And last but not least, THIS is the kids first day of school pic. I forgot to take one that morning so I made them pose by the door when they got in from school, trying to make them smile and be happy for the camera. Perfect! I think I'm in love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/11D4w8zCwwgQ2fXomEr7ajhYurI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/11D4w8zCwwgQ2fXomEr7ajhYurI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/qnxE-v7xkSo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/1341724820824410757/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=1341724820824410757" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/1341724820824410757?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/1341724820824410757?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/qnxE-v7xkSo/schools-in.html" title="School&amp;#39;s In!" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2011/08/schools-in.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAHQHg7eCp7ImA9WhdQGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-8370804268170097633</id><published>2011-08-15T19:48:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T23:15:31.600-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-19T23:15:31.600-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sick Spouse" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hubby" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Caretaker" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dialysis" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Kidney Failure" /><title>Life As We Know It</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Just before Thanksgiving last year, my family of 4 was out celebrating my  daughter's 6th birthday with dinner, bowling and cupcakes at a local bakery. My husband commented to me several times that evening that he wasn't feeling good. We didn't realize at the time, but he was beginning to have symptoms that were leading him into septic shock from an infection we had no idea was anything serious until it was too late. &lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/19/4641.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/19/s_4641.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;A little ove&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;r a week later he was in the hospital facing kidney failure. It just seemed to come out of nowhere, because his regular bloodwork with his PCP showed no signs of kidney issues whatsoever. Over the next several months we made many trips to varying doctors, weekly ER visits which turned into hospital stays, and then foll&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;ow ups with specialists all of which included a lot of life-changing, sobering news.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Kidney failure. You don't know how devastating those words were to me. You see, Polycystic Kidney Disease is a prevalent destroyer of my family's kidneys. My mom, my aunt and my oldest brother have had kidney transplants due to PKD. My uncle, my younger brother and 2 of my cousins have passed away from the disease and its complications. So to find out that my husband was in renal failure when he has never had kidney problems before &lt;u&gt;completely&lt;/u&gt; rocked my world. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/19/4643.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/19/s_4643.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="281" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Along with the kidney failure, the sepsis also caused his vision to basically be permanently damaged with virtually no hope of correction by glasses or other methods. The doctor actually told him he could use binoculars to help with watching TV, but then if he does that too much he would damage his peripheral vision which he still has. He has to magnify most everything to be able to read and he has to sit right in front of the TV to see, which is where we tell our kids NOT to sit or they'll go blind. What an ironic turnabout! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/19/4645.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/19/s_4645.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;In some ways the vision loss has been just as devastating to him as the kidney failure. Without his normal vision, he can't see well enough to read music charts to learn or teach new music to our Praise Team. I have to help read menus to him when we go out to eat. I have to read and respond to his text messages for him, fix his insulin and other medications, etc. The kids or I sometimes have to guide him when we're walking outside because he can't see what is in his path. It has been a major blow to his ego &amp;amp; pride to become somewhat helpless in these areas and especially frustrating that he can't improve his vision quality.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/19/4646.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/19/s_4646.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="281" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;So life as we know it has definitely changed. It has been a roller coaster of emotions with some ups and a lot of downs. After about a month of receiving dialysis which began mid-March, we finally started falling into a routine. We have the system down now. I keep a 'dialysis bag' on standby and just update it's contents the night before treatment according to the next day's  plan.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/19/4647.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/19/s_4647.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;The  'dialysis bag' is a beach bag I use to hold a myriad of comfort items, some for him,  some for me and some for the kiddos. The staples are  these: a blanket for him because it gets chilly while he dialyzes, ear-buds for his personal TV, meds for his snack, a  hoodie for me to cuddle under while I sit in the waiting room, my  kindle (thanks for hooking a girl up Marky Mark!), a magazine I keep meaning to read but can't tear myself away  from my kindle long enough to read it, the family calendar, a notebook,  water/juice boxes/snacks, the kids DSi's and so on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sitting  and waiting during his treatments has been surprisingly enjoyable. It  pauses the constant motion in my week for 4 hours. It allows me  to escape in a book or a game, organize my to do list, take cat naps and  the most fun and unexpected treat is getting familiar with the variety  of interesting people that come and go from their treatments. From the  names (Zeke, Ezra, Solomon) to the personalities that you would think  would come straight out of one of Tyler Perry's sitcoms or movies, there  has been no shortage of entertainment. The kids and I also will sometimes run errands, go to the bookstore, see a movie, or play at Chick-Fil-A's indoor playground during his treatments to give them a bit of a break because of course they get a little more stir crazy than I do, although I have been known to be a little crazy myself. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/19/4648.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/19/s_4648.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="281" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;The kids have handled this amazingly well. It makes me sad sometimes when I think of how much time they have had to wait in Doctor offices. It's not fair that its normal for them to play their DSi's in their pajamas sitting on the floor in the ER room at 3:00 in the morning while their daddy evacuates the contents of his stomach through his mouth for the 2,429th time. (Sorry if you're squeamish, I tried to say it in a nice way!) And I always have to take a moment to swallow back my emotions before answering their gut-wrenching questions like Emmi's "Will my husband get sick like daddy?" or Kellan's "Is daddy going to die?".&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/19/4650.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/19/s_4650.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I realize some of this sounds so dismal and depressing and honestly at times, it has been. But although in moments we have been discouraged or even distraught, we have continued to encourage one another because we believe we serve a Savior who heals and restores. Whether that will be through Doctors' hands and a kidney transplant or a miraculous turnaround doesn't matter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;We believe all we have been through from the Necrotizing Fasciitis in 2004 to the current kidney failure and other complications has been allowed for a divine purpose. Whether its to reach someone through this blog, through relationships we have established with people at the dialysis center, or for reasons yet unknown, we are thankful that God has chosen us because it means He trusts us. As fallible and human as we are, we are careful to be thankful. God has promised us so much in this life and we know we have only begun and that our latter WILL be greater! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/08/19/4665.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/08/19/s_4665.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Okay the preacher is stepping down because it's time to go fix dinner. Okay, it's really past time, but I can't help myself when I start writing; it just overtakes me! I just know how overwhelmed I was when we first started going through this process of dealing with dialysis and facing limitations. I did everything I could to scrounge up as much information possible to help my family, to adjust to my role as a caretaker and so on and maybe, just maybe this will help someone a wee little bit in some tiny small way, as well as update those we do know on how things have developed in our small world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;And as a disclaimer of sorts to anyone who may know us, I don't mean to say that my husband is now helpless. He is still as strong willed and independent as ever in many ways, however physically life has changed and it is what it is and I am just being honest about that. Voila. He has some really good days and sometimes he has some really bad days and we are living life to its fullest for whatever each day holds!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-8370804268170097633?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l-m0CQidmys38JExfV_vdAY0Al8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l-m0CQidmys38JExfV_vdAY0Al8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l-m0CQidmys38JExfV_vdAY0Al8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l-m0CQidmys38JExfV_vdAY0Al8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/OvbgvpLc-90" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/8370804268170097633/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=8370804268170097633" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/8370804268170097633?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/8370804268170097633?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/OvbgvpLc-90/life-as-we-know-it.html" title="Life As We Know It" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2011/08/life-as-we-know-it.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQFRHY7cSp7ImA9WhdTF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-7969141740899248193</id><published>2011-07-15T13:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T13:58:35.809-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-15T13:58:35.809-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Thrift Shopping" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Lovely Moments" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>Goodwill Toward Men (Thrift Haul!)</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;One hundred and sixty three shopping days are left until Christmas! If you know anything about me, then you KNOW I love me some Christmas! About this time of year I drive many of my facebook friends crazy with sweet reminders of the upcoming holidays. Granted they are months AND MONTHS away, but I just can't help it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;There's something about the hot, humid 100+ degree weather in Texas that makes me want to sing Christmas carols! And the shopping bug has bitten me, my friends. I have rediscovered the joy of thrift shopping. Years ago in my college days and throughout my twenties I often hit up the Salvation Army, Goodwill and local second-hand stores. I was quite tacky with some of my fashion choices at times, but one of my thrift finds still lingers in my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Back in the 90s, I found the perfect smokey blue blazer to wear over my leggings. I was looking through the men's section, thumbing through the musty menswear, trying to find something for my funky little brother and my fingers fell upon a jacket that just spoke to me. I tried it on and it fit me perfectly. &lt;i&gt;I was in LOVE.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp; I have no idea whatever happened to what quickly became a wardrobe staple for me, but I remember it with extreme fondness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I've been driving around town lately noticing all the Goodwill stores and got the itch to go in and see what I could find. And following blogs like &lt;a href="http://www.bowerpowerblog.com/2011/06/trinkets-treasures/"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;really helped to reignite my thrift-lust! So I finally stepped inside one about 2 weeks&amp;nbsp; ago and I've gone twice more since! I am SO digging getting name brand clothing that I would have paid several hundred bucks for (in total) for maybe $15 instead! I found several blouses, a pair of jeans, a dress and several knick knacks (including some Christmas goodies!!!)... for pennies people!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;And now, I proudly share my Thrift Haul with you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Girls Butterfly Skirt = $1.00&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;This one I didn't actually find at Goodwill, I found it at a local kids' consignment store that I frequent for my children. It's hard to tell from this pic, but it is the cutest mint green butterfly print cotton skirt that I got for $1.00 and my little girl LOVES it! I'll have to post a pic of her in it soon.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=bb2ac8e0.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="640" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/bb2ac8e0.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cato blouse w/built in turquoise tank = $3.99&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Not striking on camera, but the colors are really pretty and it looks very summery and makes me think of the colors on the beach. It's super cute on, but I have to shrink a little to be comfy in it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=6e0ff58a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="640" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/6e0ff58a.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Faded Glory Sleeveless Blouse = $3.99&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Okay, yes it's a Walmart brand, but it is really cute and has these strands of silver thread in it that dress it up. I don't like to wear WM brands too often, but I haven't seen anyone else with this shirt on &amp;amp; it's a great light summer look.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=6e0ff58a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=1eb4e262.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="640" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/1eb4e262.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=51d37fcf.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Lane Bryant Boyfriend style Jeans = $4.99&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Hold on to your britches people! I can't believe I found these LB jeans at Goodwill!&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;They are in superb condition! These would cost at least $50 bucks at the store! Terrible picture, I really need to step up my camera, the iphone shots just don't cut it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=ac676269.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="640" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/ac676269.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Torrid Graphic Dress = $7.98&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;This one made me gasp. Torrid!!! It is SO cute, the back cutout is a little risque for moi, so I will wear a black cami tank underneath it (that I also got from Goodwill for only $1.99). Hubby likes this one! Wink-Wink!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=294a5506.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="640" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/294a5506.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Over-sized Christmas Mugs = $0.99 each!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;These mugs are 'matching' as they are in a collection together. They are adorable and I thought they would be perfect for a Secret Sister gift with some other goodies in a basket, or maybe I just might keep them for ME!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=864dc8ab.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="480" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/864dc8ab.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Porcelain Christmas Sleigh = $0.99&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;This glossy white sleigh caught my eye straight out and even had a twin (which I did not purchase). I think they may have originally been used as small planters because there were some dirt crumbs in them, but I think they're a little bit teensy for that! I thought it would be ideal to hold my kitchen sponge at Christmas time  so I can think Christmas-y thoughts while I'm doing the dishes! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=6d0f8fb3.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="480" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/6d0f8fb3.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Decorative Metal Planter = $0.99&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;This planter fit the style and colors in my kitchen and is just what I needed to replace that pink/purple/lavendar eyesore of a plant holder seen in the background of the picture. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=f04951ae.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="640" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/f04951ae.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Decorative Metal Urn/Vase = $0.99&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;This cute urn is right up my artistic hubby's alley. He is fantastic at putting together gorgeous &amp;amp; unique silk flower arrangements and I could just see him using this for one of his fabulous creations. So there you go honey, it's all yours!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=99da7d9c.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="640" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/99da7d9c.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ceramic Candle Pedestal = $0.99&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I LOVE this thing! It needs to be repainted or else distressed a little more, but it is going to be PERFECT for on top of my TV armoire in the living room. I love it's chunky-ness (is that a word?) and old world look!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/?action=view&amp;amp;current=884f7963.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="640" src="http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk177/smthibo/884f7963.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;So there we have it! My first thrift haul in YEARS. And let me just say, being the mom of a 6 and 8 year old, the Goodwill is the PERFECT babysitter! I gave them strict rules of staying together and a mission of finding a treasure for each of them for $1.00 or less... they found some ugly little knick knacks, but I got to shop without being disturbed and keep an eye on them at the same time! LOVES IT!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-7969141740899248193?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9rQQlsiYHSM7yyRHtz-VhshSzQU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9rQQlsiYHSM7yyRHtz-VhshSzQU/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/9rQQlsiYHSM7yyRHtz-VhshSzQU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9rQQlsiYHSM7yyRHtz-VhshSzQU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/zuaMZxQdBOo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/7969141740899248193/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=7969141740899248193" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/7969141740899248193?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/7969141740899248193?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/zuaMZxQdBOo/goodwill-toward-men-thrift-haul.html" title="Goodwill Toward Men (Thrift Haul!)" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2011/07/goodwill-toward-men-thrift-haul.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04HQ3czfyp7ImA9WhdTFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-2150048139384814660</id><published>2011-07-12T01:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T01:25:32.987-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-12T01:25:32.987-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Moi" /><title>Those Crazy Ad People</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I'm trying out the 'ad' thingy. You know, the ads that show up on my blog below the most recent blog and over there to the right of my blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;And I guess it's somewhat random what pops up at any given minute to be advertised and I don't know how they decide what ad to relate to my blogdom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;But I have happened to notice some ads that don't represent me or my faith/beliefs. So I just wanted to mention that I don't pick the ads people. They don't necessarily represent me. But hey, if you want to click on them, don't let me stop you. Click to your hearts content!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Blog you later. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-2150048139384814660?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_hPtcPxq8yIbCI9rYjU5FDiwx6Y/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_hPtcPxq8yIbCI9rYjU5FDiwx6Y/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/_hPtcPxq8yIbCI9rYjU5FDiwx6Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_hPtcPxq8yIbCI9rYjU5FDiwx6Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/CdLm9jkDp8g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/2150048139384814660/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=2150048139384814660" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/2150048139384814660?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/2150048139384814660?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/CdLm9jkDp8g/ad-disclaimer.html" title="Those Crazy Ad People" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2011/07/ad-disclaimer.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04MQHg5cSp7ImA9WhdTFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-6953312998192005679</id><published>2011-07-12T01:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T01:26:21.629-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-12T01:26:21.629-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hubby" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><title>Summer-Time and the Livin's NOT Easy</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;Oh solo-me-o. I am missing my hubby. He is in the hospital. Again. I never thought I would be here. Here = the wife of an ailing man, a caretaker, a floundering mess of woman trying to re-figure out who in the world she is now because her other half has become somewhat helpless and she is now mom, dad, disciplinarian, chauffeur, chef and all the other things put into one and not keeping it as all together as she should.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;I am tired. I am lonely. I am sad. I am mad. I am aggravated. I am grumpy. I am hopeful. I am faithful. I am thankful. I am quiet. I am loud. I am a diet pepsi drunkard. I am becoming a goodwill shopaholic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;15 minutes. That's all I get with him every 3-4 hours. I drive around town, looking for errands, perusing the shelves at Barnes &amp;amp; Noble, letting the kids play at Chic-Fil-A's indoor playground, finding treasures at Goodwill (really, I think I'm getting hooked on this one!) and then drive back to the hospital to wait around for the next 15 minute visit.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;As we were driving home tonight (we being, the kids and I), I was thinking how it's nearly mid-July and school is starting back right around the corner. There's so much I wanted to do this summer that I haven't done. So much I wanted to do with the kids that we haven't gotten to do.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;But we are trying to live it up in the perimeters we have, and do as much summerly damage as possible in the weeks we have left. We have a swim date after church Wednesday night that I intend to keep! It will be the kids' first swim of the summer. I can't wait.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;And I really can't wait until my hubby can come home from the hospital again. I love that man. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-6953312998192005679?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9K7LEwIzvPlB6AdODQNj4jpcowM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9K7LEwIzvPlB6AdODQNj4jpcowM/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/9K7LEwIzvPlB6AdODQNj4jpcowM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9K7LEwIzvPlB6AdODQNj4jpcowM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/UocffuTmiuw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/6953312998192005679/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=6953312998192005679" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/6953312998192005679?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/6953312998192005679?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/UocffuTmiuw/summer-time-and-livins-not-easy.html" title="Summer-Time and the Livin's NOT Easy" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2011/07/summer-time-and-livins-not-easy.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkICQn4zeip7ImA9WhZXF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-3104012322279433577</id><published>2011-05-05T23:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T14:02:43.082-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-06T14:02:43.082-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Moi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><title>I'm Back From Outer Space!</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;It's been quite some time since I've blogged or even written for that matter. The last several months have been full of upheavals, challenges and at times metaphorical brick walls. It feels like we've finally fallen into somewhat of a routine again and although it's a busier one, I'll take it over the ambiguity of chaos any day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I've steered clear of stepping foot in this writing room of mine, because spelling things out makes them more real. It becomes an 'in my face' type of situation when I transfer my thoughts into literal black and white. I can't run from my feelings here, I can't hide behind a smile, I can't shake hands firmly and say I'm fine because I just cannot hide any bit of truth when I write.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;So at least for this moment, I am back.&amp;nbsp; I'm spacing my words out and hitting enter and publish again. It feels good to type it out. I love Words.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-3104012322279433577?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bbBd8Met377qxMKGLBSG3w7ROHE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bbBd8Met377qxMKGLBSG3w7ROHE/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/bbBd8Met377qxMKGLBSG3w7ROHE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bbBd8Met377qxMKGLBSG3w7ROHE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/gcf_0mnH70M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/3104012322279433577/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=3104012322279433577" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/3104012322279433577?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/3104012322279433577?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/gcf_0mnH70M/hello-again.html" title="I'm Back From Outer Space!" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2011/05/hello-again.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08EQ3k8eCp7ImA9WhZXFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-2724038878029471993</id><published>2011-05-05T23:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T23:23:22.770-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-05T23:23:22.770-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Friends" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><title>Stones &amp; Super Powers</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think it is SO SAD  when people use facebook to 'dis' other people, ESPECIALLY when you are  brothers or sisters in Christ and we should GIVE GRACE to one another  rather than casting stones (saying mean things about others whether or  not you use their name, most of us who know you know who you are  speaking of). If you have a difference with someone, isn't it best to  keep it private? Bringing other people into it (even just by viewing  your words) isn't edifying anyone else &amp;amp; in fact can bring them into  sin by causing encouragement to *gossip, *heresy  &amp;amp; more.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I  admit I am extremely imperfect. I have stuck my foot in my mouth more  times than I care to recount. But intentionally, thoughtfully stating  something negative about someone publicly for other people that know  that someone to see or even for THAT SOMEONE to see... I just think it's  so sad because you are grieving the Holy Spirit by purposefully going  out of your way to go against God's Word.&amp;nbsp; The word of God says "...Let  him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone..." (John  8:7)&amp;nbsp; No one is perfect. Everyone has faults. Everyone makes mistakes.  Everyone has differences. But we don't have to publicize them.&amp;nbsp; Maybe  instead we could pray for them or pray for ourselves in dealing with  that person instead of casting stones at someone whether they are guilty  or innocent of what we are stating or insinuating.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I  always tell my kids that God has given them Super Powers. In God's word  it says: "The tongue can bring death or life; those who love to talk  will reap the consequences." (Proverbs 18:21)&amp;nbsp; You have the POWER of  speaking LIFE or DEATH over others. When you speak positively about  someone you are speaking LIFE over them.&amp;nbsp; When you speak negatively  about someone... well, you get the picture. Do you want to bless or  curse others? Do you want to speak life-giving words or words of death?  And do you want to deal with the consequences of speaking negatively?  What do you want to reap? I want to reap Life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Forgive me  if anything I say offends you, it's not meant to provoke anyone or hurt  feelings. Sometimes we just don't think before we speak... it's my  personal goal to overcome the foot I've stuck in my mouth repeatedly  over the years. It is not pleasant to have a mouth full of toe cheese to  deal with. Seriously. So just my suggestion, and maybe God's word  too... think before you speak, deal with your problems privately, pray  for those that bother you, treat others as you want to be treated and  speak life instead of death.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Okay I'll climb off my  soapbox now, just couldn't help myself... I've seen a little too much of  this lately going on and I couldn't hold my peace any longer.&amp;nbsp;  Blessings to you all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-2724038878029471993?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kX9s9bSVzUSuw-eNOFlpZWyroYU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kX9s9bSVzUSuw-eNOFlpZWyroYU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/kDcj_9XT8cA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/2724038878029471993/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=2724038878029471993" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/2724038878029471993?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/2724038878029471993?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/kDcj_9XT8cA/stones-super-powers.html" title="Stones &amp; Super Powers" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2011/05/stones-super-powers.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIFRXk9fyp7ImA9WxFbFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-3272651462561585693</id><published>2010-07-08T13:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T14:15:14.767-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-08T14:15:14.767-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hubby" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><title>I Met a Man &amp; He Broke My Heart</title><content type="html">&lt;meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt; &lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;Last night was just another typical Wednesday night.&amp;nbsp; Every Wednesday we prepare an inexpensive meal for our church family and serve it at our 'Summer Cafe' an hour before service.&amp;nbsp; We didn't have time to stop for gas on the way to church, so we drove up to the door on gas fumes.&amp;nbsp; When service was over and we finished chatting with everyone, we drove to the nearest gas station.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;As I walked inside to pay the attendant, I noticed a man near the pumps.&amp;nbsp; An almost sickly thin African American man in disheveled, stained clothing held a white plastic bag in his hands and he was very carefully picking through the contents of a nearby trash can.&amp;nbsp; I did a double take and wondered if maybe he worked there and perhaps he was emptying the garbage?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDYgJ3VJspI/AAAAAAAAAVs/zR9-JGJwUWQ/s1600/mcd+trash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDYgJ3VJspI/AAAAAAAAAVs/zR9-JGJwUWQ/s320/mcd+trash.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;When I came back outside, he had moved on to another waste can beside another gas pump.&amp;nbsp; In his white plastic bag was now a crumpled McDonald's bag.&amp;nbsp; And I realized, he did not work there.&amp;nbsp; I went back in my car and closely watched him.&amp;nbsp; He was near my husband as he was pumping gas into our car.&amp;nbsp; But this man never looked up or asked for anything.&amp;nbsp; He just continued intently peering through and moving around the contents inside the garbage cans, earnestly looking for food. And my heart broke.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDYgS5GAijI/AAAAAAAAAV0/OWDUmWIesHM/s1600/homeless2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDYgS5GAijI/AAAAAAAAAV0/OWDUmWIesHM/s320/homeless2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;We've been approached several times by people that needed help with gas money at gas stations or food money at restaurants.&amp;nbsp; And if we've had any to spare, we've shared what we had.&amp;nbsp; But this was different.&amp;nbsp; This was very obviously a homeless, hungry, desperate and yet focused man.&amp;nbsp; He was without pride digging through a garbage can to find something to feed himself.&amp;nbsp; And yet he was prideful in that he did not ask us for a thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;I turned to my son who was sitting in the back seat and asked him to hand me the 2 leftover sandwiches from the Summer Cafe' meal that we were taking home for a late night snack.&amp;nbsp; When my husband climbed back into our car from filling up our gas tank, I asked him if he'd noticed this man.&amp;nbsp; I pointed him out and explained what I had seen.&amp;nbsp; And at that very moment, the man was dragging one of the trash cans, minus its squeegee and minus its lid which were both haphazardly left near the gas pump.&amp;nbsp; He labouringly pulled it into a dark alcove behind the building to go through its contents more thoroughly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDYg7y5KUpI/AAAAAAAAAWE/yR66Bu__nmM/s1600/homeless3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDYg7y5KUpI/AAAAAAAAAWE/yR66Bu__nmM/s320/homeless3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;I asked my husband if we could stop and give him our leftover food.&amp;nbsp; We drove to the rear of the building and the man was going through the trash can near the dumpster.&amp;nbsp; My husband opened our car door and asked the man, 'Do you work here?'.&amp;nbsp; He replied, 'Well, sometimes.'&amp;nbsp; 'Are you hungry?' my husband asked. The man shuffled his feet and said, 'Maybe.'&amp;nbsp; My husband gave him the 2 sandwiches and told them they were made fresh that evening. The man hesitantly took the sandwiches and leaned in toward my husband and asked 'What time have you got there?' My husband said '9:18'. Then the man said, 'Alright, thank ya.'&amp;nbsp; And he walked away with the sandwiches.&amp;nbsp; And my heart broke.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;As we drove home, I continued thinking about this man.&amp;nbsp; I recalled the scripture about 'entertaining angels unaware', but I knew he was no angel.&amp;nbsp; It shocked me that there could be someone so desperately in need in our small community.&amp;nbsp; It saddened me that I didn't have more to give him.&amp;nbsp; It grieved me that there are people that are forced to live in this way.&amp;nbsp; It tore my heart out that I can't provide a solution for him.&amp;nbsp; For the homeless.&amp;nbsp; For the hurting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDYgUADOxzI/AAAAAAAAAV8/kpqh7QEzW7M/s320/homeless.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;I came home and walked through the door of our house.&amp;nbsp; Our cool, air conditioned home. With doors we can lock.&amp;nbsp; With beds we can rest in.&amp;nbsp; With bathrooms and showers to take care of our bodies in.&amp;nbsp; With extra clothes to put on our bodies and a washer and dryer to clean our clothes with. With food in our pantry and our refrigerator.&amp;nbsp; What a blessed life we live.&amp;nbsp; There are times that I think how we don't have much, and how we need so much more, but compared to this man we met tonight, we have so much more than enough.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(Note: The pictures included in this blog are not my own, I found them randomly through flikr. I attempted linking them back to their original location but had some problems doing so. I in no way am claiming these as my own photos, they are merely included in the blog to lend a visual image of sorts to the words.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-3272651462561585693?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
I even tried to jazz it up recently  by doing a side braid pouf of sorts.&amp;nbsp; Well, I thought it was cute...  Anyway.&amp;nbsp; So it is nearly time for the Infamous "Pouf" to die its death.&amp;nbsp;  Rest assured, it will be resurrected on occasion in those moments when I  am in a hurry, or tired (translation: lazy) or just feeling reminiscent  of my good old standby hairstyle.&amp;nbsp; Oh Poufy Pouf, I'm gonna miss you!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So  here's where I need YOUR HELP! I've got to pick a new Do! Below are my  choices and as you can see, I'm definitely going for a Shag style.&amp;nbsp; I  NEVER have bangs higher than my jaw line, so if I opt for one of the  shorter banged styles, it will be new territory for me.&amp;nbsp; I haven't worn  bangs since I was a kid!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Place your votes! Which one should I go  with?&amp;nbsp; I just CAN'T decide!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. The Ashlee Simpson Shag&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOg2r_Fd1I/AAAAAAAAAVk/Q7_TP9smTW8/s1600/hair5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOg2r_Fd1I/AAAAAAAAAVk/Q7_TP9smTW8/s320/hair5.jpg" /&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;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. The Emo Pixie Shag&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOgyiFqcoI/AAAAAAAAAVU/ilP5oCNp7Sw/s1600/hair3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOgyiFqcoI/AAAAAAAAAVU/ilP5oCNp7Sw/s320/hair3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. The Hot Blonde Shag&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOgtmuCkwI/AAAAAAAAAVE/DQuzMUIrdgk/s1600/hair1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOgtmuCkwI/AAAAAAAAAVE/DQuzMUIrdgk/s320/hair1.jpg" /&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;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. The Wild Crazy Life of Its Own Shag&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&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/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOg0dEWW7I/AAAAAAAAAVc/FmON2NQFshI/s1600/hair4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOg0dEWW7I/AAAAAAAAAVc/FmON2NQFshI/s200/hair4.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;5. The Twilight Shag&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOgvpallzI/AAAAAAAAAVM/3J4e_pp9pF8/s1600/hair2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOgvpallzI/AAAAAAAAAVM/3J4e_pp9pF8/s320/hair2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y2EwswW8Zbm0p2a40gfku3iFh3g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y2EwswW8Zbm0p2a40gfku3iFh3g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/drC3Nv6G7wI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/2014783636114669665/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=2014783636114669665" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/2014783636114669665?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/2014783636114669665?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/drC3Nv6G7wI/cast-your-vote-pouf-vs-shag.html" title="Cast Your Vote! The Pouf Vs. The Shag?" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TDOg2r_Fd1I/AAAAAAAAAVk/Q7_TP9smTW8/s72-c/hair5.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/07/cast-your-vote-pouf-vs-shag.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMHQX49eyp7ImA9WxFUFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-7427051680204257672</id><published>2010-06-26T18:03:00.025-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T18:20:30.063-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-26T18:20:30.063-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hilarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hubby" /><title>Mon Anniversaire Mesaventures</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Got ready for a hot date with my love.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Cleaned up puppy poop.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Friends watched Kids  (sleepover) so Hubby &amp;amp; I could celebrate 9 year anniversary.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ate  at Tokyo Japanese Steak House.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaEr4YuHoI/AAAAAAAAAUc/ztaeeWukKl8/s1600/tokyo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaEr4YuHoI/AAAAAAAAAUc/ztaeeWukKl8/s320/tokyo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Seated with backwo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;ds people that  surely must have been extras from the movie 'The Hills Have Eyes'.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Laughed  at people.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Went to Goodwill.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Laughed at Goodwill undies  on sale.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaEpDev-bI/AAAAAAAAAUU/GpvnVB1uoaE/s1600/underwear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaEpDev-bI/AAAAAAAAAUU/GpvnVB1uoaE/s320/underwear.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Went to Coffee Shop  &amp;amp; ate the Good, the Bad, &amp;amp; the Delicious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaIu0O6haI/AAAAAAAAAU0/lxnssZ0yHAQ/s1600/Rao%27s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaIu0O6haI/AAAAAAAAAU0/lxnssZ0yHAQ/s320/Rao%27s.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Laughed at ourselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Went to Redbox  &amp;amp; picked up some movies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaLLE1-mRI/AAAAAAAAAU8/ZbIibeyaBT4/s1600/redbox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaLLE1-mRI/AAAAAAAAAU8/ZbIibeyaBT4/s320/redbox.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Went home. Watched 1  and 1/2 movies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Cleaned up puppy  poop.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Friends called at 1:30 AM.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
5 y/o not sleeping &amp;amp;  crying for mommy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt; (Similar melt down  shown here.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaEit_9ySI/AAAAAAAAAUE/ngBew0noskA/s1600/melt+down.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaEit_9ySI/AAAAAAAAAUE/ngBew0noskA/s320/melt+down.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Drove 45 minutes to  pick up kids who were happily eating cereal, drawing &amp;amp; watching TV  when we arrived. At 2:15 AM.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Laughed at our kids.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Drove 43  minutes back towards home &amp;amp; 3 blocks from our house we drove over  an out of commission railroad track and blew a tire on our totaled car. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Went  bumpity-bump-bump 3 blocks home and parked our hop-a-long car at 3:12  AM.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Laughed at our car.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tucked kids in bed &amp;amp; finished  2nd movie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Cleaned up puppy poop.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy 9 years darling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaIkzkFGHI/AAAAAAAAAUs/xXfGojla_M8/s1600/anniversary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaIkzkFGHI/AAAAAAAAAUs/xXfGojla_M8/s320/anniversary.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: deeppink;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-7427051680204257672?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mp8w-NdIAOx3yZWdzaog0lqLmpg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mp8w-NdIAOx3yZWdzaog0lqLmpg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/14pTUqLFiDU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/7427051680204257672/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=7427051680204257672" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/7427051680204257672?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/7427051680204257672?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/14pTUqLFiDU/mon-anniversaire-mesaventures.html" title="Mon Anniversaire Mesaventures" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TCaEr4YuHoI/AAAAAAAAAUc/ztaeeWukKl8/s72-c/tokyo.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/06/mon-anniversaire-mesaventures.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUFQXc-cSp7ImA9WxFUFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-5606658269586401974</id><published>2010-06-16T13:22:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T23:33:30.959-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-26T23:33:30.959-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Friends" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscing" /><title>Win an iPad? Save A Life!</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Who doesn't want a chance to win an iPad?&amp;nbsp; This my friends, is a chance to do something noble and possibly even get an iPad out of it! Sounds like a win-win to me!&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkSp2OQkWI/AAAAAAAAATU/rAD0HGmPBVE/s1600/ipad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" qu="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkSp2OQkWI/AAAAAAAAATU/rAD0HGmPBVE/s320/ipad.jpg" width="252" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Let me introduce you to my friend Traci, with whom I went to grade school through high school back in my shy, youthful days.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I spent the night at her house once when I was in elementary school&amp;nbsp;and then I called my mommy to come&amp;nbsp;and take me home because her big sis was watching a movie that scared me.&amp;nbsp; Ahhhh memories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkTCEkpacI/AAAAAAAAATc/bisK0COfs7k/s1600/Traci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkTCEkpacI/AAAAAAAAATc/bisK0COfs7k/s320/Traci.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Anywho, Traci is a wonderful mom of several beautiful children including a 10 year old little girl named Ashlyn who happens to have Downs Syndrome.&amp;nbsp; I've followed &lt;a href="http://slowingitdown.blogspot.com/"&gt;Traci's blog&lt;/a&gt; for months now&amp;nbsp;and love getting to know Ashlyn and&amp;nbsp;the rest of her family through colorful pictures and&amp;nbsp;the funny, endearing anecdotes&amp;nbsp;that Traci shares.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkThwHmxPI/AAAAAAAAATk/jrUIwuKKaZk/s1600/Ashy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkThwHmxPI/AAAAAAAAATk/jrUIwuKKaZk/s320/Ashy.jpg" width="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;~Ashlyn~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Traci and her family desparately want to adopt another very special little girl with Downs Syndrome, Anastasia.&amp;nbsp; Anastasia is 5 years old and lives in an orphanage in Eastern Europe in not the best conditions and without OUR intervention will very probably be transferred to an insane asylum where she will likely be treated in animalistic conditions and the factual odds are that she will die there because of this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkTq8o3xrI/AAAAAAAAATs/yvb2-AIITOQ/s1600/ANA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkTq8o3xrI/AAAAAAAAATs/yvb2-AIITOQ/s320/ANA.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;~Anastasia~&lt;/span&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 style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Who wouldn't want to save this precious life?&amp;nbsp; And I can't think of a better family, a more loving mother for this little girl to grow up with than my friend Traci.&amp;nbsp; So I am joining in and putting a shout out for help!&amp;nbsp; Please, give up a week worth of eating out and put the money you would spend on your priveledged American belly and click below to help save this beautiful baby!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkVts3wsAI/AAAAAAAAAT0/KtHodaU8ldE/s1600/fatbelly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="188" qu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkVts3wsAI/AAAAAAAAAT0/KtHodaU8ldE/s200/fatbelly.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;~Your Priveledged American Belly~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;You can read more indepth details about Anastasia in Traci's blog &lt;a href="http://steppingoutinfaith-williamsjourney.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;iPad contest rules are as follows:&lt;/i&gt; Every time you donate $5.00 your name is put in the iPad drawing.&amp;nbsp; BUT, every time you donate $25.00, your name is put in 25 TIMES to win the iPad!&amp;nbsp; Those are good odds, people!!! Come on, let's save Princess Anastasia!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;CLICK&amp;nbsp;ON ANASTASIA's PIC BELOW&amp;nbsp;&amp;amp; DONATE!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.reecesrainbow.org/sponsorwilliams.html"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i149.photobucket.com/albums/s62/WilliamtheOutlaw/annawrrbutton.png" width="100%" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://steppingoutinfaith-williamsjourney.blogspot.com/"&gt;Grab This!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-5606658269586401974?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BIrg-IS_xytmfln7X4vM-Fb0I44/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BIrg-IS_xytmfln7X4vM-Fb0I44/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/4JCoS15LIcQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/5606658269586401974/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=5606658269586401974" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/5606658269586401974?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/5606658269586401974?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/4JCoS15LIcQ/win-ipad-save-life.html" title="Win an iPad? Save A Life!" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBkSp2OQkWI/AAAAAAAAATU/rAD0HGmPBVE/s72-c/ipad.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/06/win-ipad-save-life.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMFQXk8fip7ImA9WxFVE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-6774591479670521348</id><published>2010-06-12T18:35:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T21:00:10.776-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-12T21:00:10.776-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hilarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hubby" /><title>Our new Poop, I mean Pup.</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Meet our new puppy Gus!&amp;nbsp; Isn't he a sweetie?&amp;nbsp; We have totally fallen in love with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBQZpZ8-GjI/AAAAAAAAATM/a2zK6e3bEL8/s1600/Gus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBQZpZ8-GjI/AAAAAAAAATM/a2zK6e3bEL8/s320/Gus.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;It's been nearly 20 years since I had a dog &amp;amp; I have soooo missed it.&amp;nbsp; My hubby has dog/cat allergies, but we found one that doesn't seem to bother him the way most others do, although I think I may have scared him into getting the pup b/c I always joked if anything ever 'happens' to my hubby the first thing I will do is go out and get a dog!&amp;nbsp; The last couple of months he's been researching what kind of dog he might be able to tolerate &amp;amp; Eureeka! We found the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cairn_terrier"&gt;Cairn Terrier&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Being that it's been 20 years since I've been a puppy's master, I had totally forgotten all about the hard work of breaking in a puppy.&amp;nbsp; Its been about 3 years since I potty trained my youngest child and doggies are different than babies in that they deposit their lovelies at any given spot &amp;amp; any given moment.&amp;nbsp; Voila, puppy poopy surprise! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Have I mentioned that Hubby can't feel his feet due to some nerve damage from surgeries + his diabetes?&amp;nbsp; Well, puppy went missing for 5 minutes, so hubby went to find him.&amp;nbsp; Moments later, he bellowed from the bathroom in agony!&amp;nbsp; I jumped up &amp;amp; ran to the rescue and&amp;nbsp; there he was with one foot in the air and lovely puppy poop all over the bottom of it! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;He had accidentally stepped in some puppy poop and tracked it all over the bathroom floor &amp;amp; rugs before even realizing it was on his foot b/c he couldn't feel it!&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;I of course who&amp;nbsp; always laugh at the wrong times immediately exploded into laughter!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Hopefully it won't take long to get Gus going right, if you know what I mean!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-6774591479670521348?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PXtoHcqNO7Mly2P6gOMhUSiLlfo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PXtoHcqNO7Mly2P6gOMhUSiLlfo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/SpZdfzD-8RA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/6774591479670521348/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=6774591479670521348" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/6774591479670521348?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/6774591479670521348?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/SpZdfzD-8RA/our-new-poop-i-mean-pup.html" title="Our new Poop, I mean Pup." /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TBQZpZ8-GjI/AAAAAAAAATM/a2zK6e3bEL8/s72-c/Gus.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/06/our-new-poop-i-mean-pup.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8ASHczfCp7ImA9WxFWGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-3580496752871962182</id><published>2010-06-07T11:22:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T16:40:49.984-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-07T16:40:49.984-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Moi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><title>I Have Super Powers!</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TA0bzJRafUI/AAAAAAAAATE/1M7VrjuDXRQ/s1600/Susan+Wilson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TA0bzJRafUI/AAAAAAAAATE/1M7VrjuDXRQ/s200/Susan+Wilson.jpg" width="133" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I'm featuring a 'guest blogger' today! Meet Susan Wilson!&amp;nbsp; We went to high school together a year or two apart I think.&amp;nbsp; I remember her as a very sweet girl, more of an acquaintance than a buddy, I guess because of our grade difference and social setting. Now we're all grown up and I'm one of her Facebook friends.&amp;nbsp; Aren't social networks great?&amp;nbsp; I love stalking other peoples lives via FB and catching up through photos and reading amusing statuses.&amp;nbsp; Susan posted a note on FB the other day (the blog I'm featuring today) and it resounded with me majorly.&amp;nbsp; I could have almost written the same words myself because I believe so strongly in the what she so eloquently wrote.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;You've heard the phrases 'choose your words wisely' and 'what's in a word'?&amp;nbsp; I know the power of words.&amp;nbsp; And I think that's why 'words' (writing) has become so important to me.&amp;nbsp; According to the Bible, there is power of life and death in the words that we speak.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Proverbs 18:21&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul style="color: blue; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;i&gt;Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and they who indulge in it shall eat the fruit of it (for death or life). ~ (Amplified Bible)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;i&gt;Words kill, words give life; they're either poison or fruit - you choose. ~ (The Message)&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I don't touch on or go too deeply into certain areas of my background very often because it is painful and a bit revealing, but I am a product of a home that had some definite dysfunction going on.&amp;nbsp; And if you knew me very, very well growing up, you might possibly have known that secret, but probably didn't.&amp;nbsp; We hid it well.&amp;nbsp; Our family motto was like the Vegas slogan.&amp;nbsp; We literally were told 'What happens at home, stays at home'.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Even now, it's extremely awkward for me to share this because I almost feel as if I'm betraying my family.&amp;nbsp; But let's be honest family, what happened, happened.&amp;nbsp; And we were affected.&amp;nbsp; I never faced any physical abuse myself, but there was definite verbal and emotional damage done over the course of my lifetime.&amp;nbsp; And to this day I battle inwardly with words that were spoken or yelled or cursed at me and have lingered and echoed in my head for many years.&amp;nbsp; And I am 1.5 years away from turning 40. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Let me also say that I love this person.&amp;nbsp; This person that said these things.&amp;nbsp; For years.&amp;nbsp; For hours at a time.&amp;nbsp; These occurrences were as far away as I can remember into my formative pre-pre-teen years.&amp;nbsp; And as close as just a year ago.&amp;nbsp; I love this person, and I continue to work on this relationship at a slow pace, with pauses and sometimes with fear and dread.&amp;nbsp; And sometimes I become paralyzed for a little while and don't know how to communicate.&amp;nbsp; And sometimes I swallow very hard and pick up the phone and call this person.&amp;nbsp; And tell them that I love them.&amp;nbsp; And speak life over them.&amp;nbsp; Because I do.&amp;nbsp; I love them.&amp;nbsp; And I want them to live, in the fullest meaning of that word.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;That's why it has become so important to me to choose my words carefully before I speak.&amp;nbsp; Before I discipline my children. Before I disagree with anyone.&amp;nbsp; Before I say something about somebody else or even about myself. Because just as in the Message version of Proverbs 18:21 (above), I must make a choice each time I open my mouth.&amp;nbsp; Am I going to give life to someone?&amp;nbsp; Or am I going to give death?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;And there's a flip side to that as well!&amp;nbsp; In regards to the words that were spoken over me.&amp;nbsp; Those words that linger in my head and torment the way I think about myself.&amp;nbsp; Now that I recognize what was happening to me, that death was being spoken over me, that my thoughts and my perception of who I am was being poisoned, I have to repose those questions.&amp;nbsp; Am I going to choose life and redefine who I am according to what God's word says?&amp;nbsp; Or am I going to choose death and accept the curses that were spoken over me?&amp;nbsp; It may be a daily struggle I face, but daily... daily I must face the words in my head and I must choose life.&amp;nbsp; I am who God says I am.&amp;nbsp; I am above and not beneath, I am the head and not the tail, I am blessed and not cursed!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;And today, I choose to use this Super Power that God has given me.&amp;nbsp; I choose to speak life over my husband, my children, my family, my friends, and yes dear reader, YOU!&amp;nbsp; Whether you believe in prayer or God or the power of words or not, know that you have been covered in it today.&amp;nbsp; May you be blessed today and know the power of your words!&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;That's A Real Shame.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;~By Susan Wilson.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;In raising my children, I often think of how things were done when I was growing up. There was a phrase that was used and I heard one of my children's grandparents begin to use it with my son. I had to stop it. Something within me rose up and had to bring truth into light.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Do you remember the phrase, "shame on you"? When has shame ever been a good motivation for change or repentance? The Word says that it is the love of the Lord that leads men to repentance. Not trying to place shame on us. The real shame is when we deny His great Love for us and fail to receive what he has extended and paid the ultimate price for us to have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;So I ask, what is Shame?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;- a painful emotion resulting from an awareness of inadequacy or guilt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;- a state of dishonor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Webster says&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;- a painful sensation excited by a consciousness of guilt or impropriety, or of having done something which injures reputation, or of the exposure of that which nature or modesty prompts us to conceal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;- reproach incurred or suffered; dishonor; ignominy; derision; contempt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;- the cause or reason of shame; that which brings reproach, and degrades a person in the estimation of others; disgrace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;As a verb&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;- to cover with reproach or ignominy; to dishonor; to disgrace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;- to mock at; to deride.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;I have found that words have creative power. I took great care when looking at names for my children. In the Old Testament, names had a destiny attached to them. Words have meaning and many times we use words that we ourselves cannot define well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;There are many things I am still learning, but I do know this: we are to speak life and destiny over our children. The words we use with ourselves and one another carry weight here and in eternity. We will be held accountable for the words we use and at times, don't use.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;In disciplining and training our children, we need to help them see that they are children of the Father, their identity is in Him. When they mess up, they don't cease to be our children or His. They simply make a poor choice and we can set them up for success or failure in the words we use with them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;So, instead of saying, "shame on you" I have sought the Lord about what to say. I have said, "I will always love you no matter what you do. You just made a bad choice and now you will suffer the consequence for that action. But you are still a good boy/girl." To be honest this started back with our first puppy, Curtis. One of our parents said, "Bad Dog!" I followed quickly with, "No, good dog, did a bad thing." Funny as that sounds, there is truth to it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;I am still trying to separate my "who" from my "do". I pray my children will not struggle as I have. Shame is a hard thing to shake at times and has been part of the reason many people who have been abused suffer for years afterward. But I happen to know that "He bore our griefs and shame". I am forever grateful. Every need and weakness I learn about myself, I find His all sufficient Grace is there yet again. He made provision for things I have only recently learned to ask for. That is my God. He is amazing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Romans 15:3 "For even Christ pleased not himself; but, as it is written, The reproaches of them that reproached thee fell on me."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Thanks Susan!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-3580496752871962182?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AkdDmsnMlgHCCfWaOydK1VGYBtU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AkdDmsnMlgHCCfWaOydK1VGYBtU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/EcSZvzGhcHE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/3580496752871962182/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=3580496752871962182" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/3580496752871962182?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/3580496752871962182?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/EcSZvzGhcHE/im-featuring-guest-blogger-today-meet.html" title="I Have Super Powers!" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/TA0bzJRafUI/AAAAAAAAATE/1M7VrjuDXRQ/s72-c/Susan+Wilson.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/06/im-featuring-guest-blogger-today-meet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYFQns8eSp7ImA9WxFXEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-2188377959362182147</id><published>2010-05-19T04:10:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T04:58:33.571-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-19T04:58:33.571-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hilarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Kellan" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Emmi" /><title>Because Inquiring Minds Want to Know!</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Recently my inquisitive kiddos have been firing off alot of questions.&amp;nbsp; Some of their inquiries have made me laugh, some have caused me to reflect and generate questions of my own and others have totally confused me!&amp;nbsp; I thought I'd share a few of them with you for today's entertainment.&amp;nbsp; Enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Am I supposed to be at school right now? &lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Kellan, leaning over my bed at 9:30 a.m. one day)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Will you smell my finger?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Emmi, to Donnie while I was at work) &lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Is THAT your chin?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Kellan, pointing to my neck as I was looking down at him)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Why did God make us?&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Emmi, while she was in the hospital)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Will that dress look good on her boobs?&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Kellan, to Emmi as they were playing with Emmi's barbies)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Can I have a mayonnaise and jelly sandwich?&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Emmi, waking up for one of her midnight snacks)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;When I grow up to be a daddy, can I still live with you?&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Kellan, planning his future)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Can I just eat this string?&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Emmi, after finding a string on a table)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/s/link-enhancer?tag=shadesof0b-20&amp;amp;o=1" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-2188377959362182147?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Odi3CbLxtd3dl2gG5sZrmg_xUfM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Odi3CbLxtd3dl2gG5sZrmg_xUfM/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/Odi3CbLxtd3dl2gG5sZrmg_xUfM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Odi3CbLxtd3dl2gG5sZrmg_xUfM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/8_BaQnb0Dpw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/2188377959362182147/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=2188377959362182147" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/2188377959362182147?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/2188377959362182147?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/8_BaQnb0Dpw/because-inquiring-minds-want-to-know.html" title="Because Inquiring Minds Want to Know!" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/05/because-inquiring-minds-want-to-know.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUNR3o_eyp7ImA9WxFXEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-1892715646305908704</id><published>2010-05-17T01:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T05:18:16.443-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-19T05:18:16.443-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hubby" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Emmi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><title>Agreeing to Disagree</title><content type="html">&lt;meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt;&lt;meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt;&lt;meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt;&lt;meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt;&lt;link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDonnie%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"&gt;&lt;/link&gt;&lt;link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDonnie%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"&gt;&lt;/link&gt;&lt;link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDonnie%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"&gt;&lt;/link&gt;&lt;style&gt;
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&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;It was only 6 years ago that I sat anxiously waiting to hear the results of my husband's first, of many, life changing surgeries.&amp;nbsp; I was 4 months pregnant at the time with my little girl.&amp;nbsp; My husband, who was only 35 years old at the time, had been sick for 5 weeks, misdiagnosed 4 times and was literally near death before we finally saw a surgeon who realized that his body was being ravaged by the flesh eating disease, &lt;a href="http://nnff.com/survivors/donnie_thibodaux/donnie_thibodaux.htm"&gt;Necrotizing Fasciitis&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Of course my emotions were all over the place since I was expecting my daughter Emelia.&amp;nbsp; I had been nursing my husband for the last several weeks, seeing him deteriorate and not getting any answers from multiple appointments with varying Doctors and at the same time taking care of my 2 year old son and filling in for my husband in his position at our church.&amp;nbsp; I was a wreck.&amp;nbsp; And I was angry.&amp;nbsp; I was SO MAD at God that my husband was so ill and that I might lose him and be left alone to raise my son &amp;amp; my soon to be born daughter.&amp;nbsp; I was livid with Him that He would give me a gift (my baby girl to be born) &amp;amp; be taking away my husband at the same time.&amp;nbsp; It was devastating to even think of it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But over the next 2 months and multiple surgeries, my husband began to slowly recover.&amp;nbsp; His life was preserved; he was able to come home and build his strength back up and become a father to our little girl.&amp;nbsp; In the years since, he has had several additional infections including MRSA, a total of 16 surgeries (including the amputation of both his great toes), and multiple complications that have become a normal part of our daily lives.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My little girl is now 5 1/2 going on 32 years old.&amp;nbsp; She is full of sass and has a hilarious sense of humor and perfect timing for her witty remarks.&amp;nbsp; She is full of energy, high maintenance, and exhausting.&amp;nbsp; She also has eczema and asthma and we cannot seem to control her scratching or itching no matter what prescription lotions or treatments we try (please don't suggest anything, we've literally seen, heard &amp;amp; done IT ALL).&amp;nbsp; And just a few weeks ago, we were in the hospital, anxiously waiting at 4:30 a.m. in the Family Holding room for her Dr to let us know how the surgery went.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;In those moments I found my mind back in that first consult room 6 years earlier, waiting for my husband's surgeon to come out and tell me if we had waited any longer my husband would have been dead and that he wasn't out of the woods yet.&amp;nbsp; I was terrified when he told me that.&amp;nbsp; But it didn’t even BEGIN to compare with the horror I felt inside at the thought of my daughter having to endure surgeries comparative to what my husband had gone through.&amp;nbsp; After that moment of flashing back, I informed God that if He took me through all of that back then just to lose my daughter now, I was going to be SO MAD at Him!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;Of course, she is fine.&amp;nbsp; Of course, it was just one finger infected, not an entire limb.&amp;nbsp; Of course, I WAS overreacting to the situation.&amp;nbsp; Of course, the Doctor is the best hand surgeon in the area and absolutely knows what he is doing.&amp;nbsp; Of course, the anesthesiologist has had years of experience dealing with people that have eaten only a few short hours before an emergency surgery.&amp;nbsp; And yet as the time crept by I became more anxious.&amp;nbsp; Maybe it’s because I know what can happen; I’ve seen ugly infection and ugly results.&amp;nbsp; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;And I know, I KNOW that anyone can analytically reason things out that we came to the hospital at the perfect hour to have the perfect Doctor operate at the pivotal time for my daughter.&amp;nbsp; Anyone can mock my faith and my beliefs and my practices and my values.&amp;nbsp; Anyone can say whatever they want to, but I know what truth is.&amp;nbsp; And truth is that God prepared us for that moment.&amp;nbsp; We knew what signs to look for: the swelling, discoloration and streaking.&amp;nbsp; We knew because we had been through that with my husband’s infections numerous times.&amp;nbsp; He prepared us by giving us the knowledge through my husband’s experiences.&amp;nbsp; He designated that Doctor to be available to operate on my daughter. And now, her finger is fine, her hand is fine and the scars are barely visible.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;There are people out there that will attribute my daughter’s recovery to the Doctor’s aggressive response to infection.&amp;nbsp; There are people that will say it’s due to the Doctor’s training, our wisdom and coincidences of time/place/convenience.&amp;nbsp; But I know that my sovereign God intervened on our behalf.&amp;nbsp; And although I am thankful for the Doctor and the education he received to enable him to give my daughter the appropriate care, I am more so thankful to my God for keeping His hand on my daughter’s life, for ordaining each moment and each step of our lives.&amp;nbsp; I am thankful for great medical care and we followed through (as always) on the Doctor’s advice, but ultimately it is to God I give the glory of keeping my precious baby girl safe and sound and healed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;And to those that disagree, I respect your opinion and I value your input, but in times like these we will just have to agree to disagree. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-1892715646305908704?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CncNcZSHYVaL0_fyAybL3tuO3dM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CncNcZSHYVaL0_fyAybL3tuO3dM/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/CncNcZSHYVaL0_fyAybL3tuO3dM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CncNcZSHYVaL0_fyAybL3tuO3dM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/r_I5nU3G3XA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/1892715646305908704/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=1892715646305908704" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/1892715646305908704?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/1892715646305908704?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/r_I5nU3G3XA/it-was-only-6-years-ago-that-i-sat.html" title="Agreeing to Disagree" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/05/it-was-only-6-years-ago-that-i-sat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IASXc8fyp7ImA9WxFQFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-7273212396176440537</id><published>2010-05-12T03:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T03:05:48.977-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-12T03:05:48.977-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hilarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Kellan" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Emmi" /><title>Whodunit Take 2!</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Here's another game of Whodunit to boggle your mind and sharpen your detective skills!  (See the last Whodunit &lt;a href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2009/08/whodunit.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Saturday: &lt;/b&gt;The life-sized Barbie was given a permanent marker beauty treatment of eyeshadow, lip gloss &amp;amp; finger nails all in goth-black.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sunday:&lt;/b&gt; Cotton was plucked from the tops of Q-tips just for their scalps to be brazenly thrown all over the floor.&amp;nbsp; Then the Q-tips were maliciously tortured by being sliced in half and collected in a wallet-photo-sized black mesh-fabric bag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;This Morning:&lt;/b&gt; A fleur de lis was inked on a small left arm to mimic daddy's new tattoo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;This Afternoon:&lt;/b&gt; Bandaids were found lovingly applied to the living room lamps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tonight:&lt;/b&gt; Orange juice was squirted all over the kitchen floor, just to 'make it shiny'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-7273212396176440537?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zhGJllH-HZcfgG7vfUofU_u_JBY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zhGJllH-HZcfgG7vfUofU_u_JBY/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/zhGJllH-HZcfgG7vfUofU_u_JBY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zhGJllH-HZcfgG7vfUofU_u_JBY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/pNTK232wnvQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/7273212396176440537/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=7273212396176440537" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/7273212396176440537?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/7273212396176440537?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/pNTK232wnvQ/whodunit-take-2.html" title="Whodunit Take 2!" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/05/whodunit-take-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEMQ3s5fSp7ImA9WxFRF0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-7047107060623299866</id><published>2010-05-02T06:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T06:11:22.525-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-02T06:11:22.525-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Friends" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Moi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><title>The Ultimate Woman</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I am working on making some big changes in my life.&amp;nbsp; Things that require learned discipline, tried practice and painstaking effort.&amp;nbsp; I'm seeing changes, I'm noticing differences and it's exciting, but it's still difficult.&amp;nbsp; I have a long road ahead of me, but I'm positive I can get to where I want to be.&amp;nbsp; I know I can.&amp;nbsp; It's funny how working on one part of yourself can inspire you to work on other parts of you too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;"I am a work in progress" is one of my common statements about myself.&amp;nbsp; I see more than anyone else (except maybe my husband... and God) the many flaws that I carry.&amp;nbsp; My imperfections, my challenges, my inconsistencies... ugh.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes it's just downright depressing to think of all that needs to be changed, tweaked &amp;amp; adjusted in my life!&amp;nbsp; And so sometimes (okay, a lot of times) I run the other way and pretend those issues aren't even there.&amp;nbsp; But of course, they are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Besides, this time of year always places me in a pensive state of mind.&amp;nbsp; Between reminiscing about my mom and thinking of my own role as a mother and how I'm doing at that job, I've got a ton of things swirling through my head.&amp;nbsp; I think about the kind of mother, the kind of woman I'd like to be and how I've never really set goals to become that woman, because I've always felt extremely inadequate.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I think about the passage in Proverbs 31 and the Biblical definition of a woman, wife and mother that it gives. Honestly, I have avoided that passage of scripture as much as possible over the years, reading it only on rare occasion and then banishing it from my reading list for sometimes years at a time. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt;&lt;meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt;&lt;meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt;&lt;meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"&gt;&lt;/meta&gt;&lt;link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDonnie%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"&gt;&lt;/link&gt;&lt;link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDonnie%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"&gt;&lt;/link&gt;&lt;link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CDonnie%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"&gt;&lt;/link&gt;&lt;style&gt;
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&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Proverbs 31:10-30 (The Message)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds. Her husband trusts her without reserve, and never has reason to regret it. Never spiteful, she treats him generously all her life long. She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing. She's like a trading ship that sails to faraway places and brings back exotic surprises.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;She's up before dawn, preparing breakfast for her family and organizing her day. She looks over a field and buys it, then, with money she's put aside, plants a garden. First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started. She senses the worth of her work, is in no hurry to call it quits for the day. She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth, diligent in homemaking.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;She's quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor. She doesn't worry about her family when it snows; their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear. She makes her own clothing, and dresses in colorful linens and silks. Her husband is greatly respected hen he deliberates with the city fathers. She designs gowns and sells them, brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops. Her clothes are well-made and elegant, and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly. She keeps an eye on everyone in her household, and keeps them all busy and productive. Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise: "Many women have done wonderful things, but you've outclassed them all!" Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades. The woman to be admired and praised is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;When I think of that specific passage of scripture, it always makes me think of an old friend.&amp;nbsp; I remember how she posted these scriptures in her room and talked to me about her desperation to be 'that woman' described in those words.&amp;nbsp; She and I are not as close as we once were, but from my view on the outside looking in, she seems to have succeeded at many of those qualities.&amp;nbsp; I can tell that she has committed herself to her dream of becoming that woman.&amp;nbsp; It's glaringly obvious and simply evident from the details of her life that she measures herself against those words.&amp;nbsp; And in my opinion, she has done very well at meeting those goals.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Me? Not so much.&amp;nbsp; But now that I'm all grown up and admittedly rather behind the ball on this one... I think I've got to do something about this.&amp;nbsp; I'm not satisfied with who I am: as a mother, as a wife, as a friend, as a sister or even as a daughter.&amp;nbsp; There are days I am a huge stubborn fear-filled piece of work. There is so much more I can be, so much more I can become.&amp;nbsp; Now, I'm not saying I'm going to start sewing and making my own clothes or getting up before dawn (God forbid!)... but I think you get the idea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I'm sharing this today so I can come back here and remind myself of this goal.&amp;nbsp; So I can stop playing hide and seek with who I want to be and actually find that woman through hard work and discipline and extreme efforts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I have a long road ahead of me, but I'm positive I can get to where I want to be.&amp;nbsp; I know I can. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-7047107060623299866?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fPHpzMw8wFcAH5i3YmFoiNQjm6c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fPHpzMw8wFcAH5i3YmFoiNQjm6c/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/fPHpzMw8wFcAH5i3YmFoiNQjm6c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fPHpzMw8wFcAH5i3YmFoiNQjm6c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/AiOfR4XgYwk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/7047107060623299866/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=7047107060623299866" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/7047107060623299866?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/7047107060623299866?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/AiOfR4XgYwk/ultimate-woman.html" title="The Ultimate Woman" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/05/ultimate-woman.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEFQH04eSp7ImA9WxFSFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-720016730786258829</id><published>2010-04-17T02:34:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T02:50:11.331-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-17T02:50:11.331-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hilarity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Moi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Recipes" /><title>The Great Pizza Fiasco!</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: #351c75;"&gt;*I am currently experimenting with my foods &amp;amp; discovering the wonders of Cauliflower!&amp;nbsp; I even made a Faux Mashed Potatoes w/Cauliflower the other night!&amp;nbsp; Here is my latest &amp;amp; greatest attempt at creating something grand (and healthy) in the kitchen. Enjoy!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Okay, so I am definitely not the 'chef' of the family. That title belongs to my husband &amp;amp; I generally stay of his way as he does his magic &amp;amp; then I clean the dishes after!&amp;nbsp; However, I've been snooping through the some recipes and finally became brave enough to attempt the INFAMOUS CAULIFLOWER PIZZA.&amp;nbsp; I SO should have captured this on video.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Imagine if you will, ME in the kitchen with half a head of cauliflower &amp;amp; a grater.&amp;nbsp; Can you hear the theme song to JAWS?&amp;nbsp; You would THINK that this is a simple task, but DON'T BE FOOLED!&amp;nbsp; I nearly scraped my fingerprints off!&amp;nbsp; After a long and arduous go at shredding the cauliflower into teeny tiny slivers (and most likely a few slices of MY flesh), I finally was able to add the cheese &amp;amp; spices to mix my soon to be pizza crust together.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then I prepared my sauce, my toppings (yellow pepper &amp;amp; canadian bacon) &amp;amp; made a beautiful, cannibal, cauliflower pizza &amp;amp; popped it in the oven and waited.&amp;nbsp; I checked the pizza 15 minutes later and it was soggy.&amp;nbsp; WHAT IN THE WORLD?&amp;nbsp; I checked it after another 10 minutes and it was STILL soft!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What did I do wrong?&amp;nbsp; I re-read the directions and realized... I did NOT prebake my crust before adding the toppings!&amp;nbsp; UGH!&amp;nbsp; So, you live &amp;amp; you learn right?&amp;nbsp; I ate my tasty super soggy pizza and decided due to my technical difficulties, I will probably NEVER make it again.&amp;nbsp; At least not without a food processor!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fast forward 2 days later (tonight), and I put the other half in the oven to heat up for my dinner and found it was TOTAL MUSH upon checking it 10 minutes later.&amp;nbsp; So I got out a sheet of foil, splatted the 'pizza' cafeteria style by 4 spatula fulls of goopy pizza-like masses, put it back in the pan on the foil and baked it another 15 minutes.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The outcome?&amp;nbsp; Upside-Down Pizza Casserole that was half stuck to the foil (because of course I failed to spray the foil with Pam!)...&amp;nbsp; But it was actually more firm than the first night I had it and even tastier to eat... even though 1/4 of it I couldn't scrape from the foil... So, there it is.&amp;nbsp; My attempt at the Cauliflower Pizza.&amp;nbsp; May it rest in peace.&amp;nbsp; (See Recipe below.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8lmdYPHiyI/AAAAAAAAASk/PdQYZFgjkfk/s400/pizza.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"&gt;(This pic is borrowed from the &lt;a href="http://blogs.mymedifast.com/blogs/kristyn417/default.aspx"&gt;lady&lt;/a&gt; I got the recipe from.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cauliflower crust:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
1/2 head of fresh, raw, grated cauliflower&lt;br /&gt;
2 c. low fat, low moisture part-skim mozarella&lt;br /&gt;
2 tsp. garlic &lt;i&gt;(I used chopped garlic from a jar)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
1 tsp. Mrs. Dash. &lt;i&gt;(I used Tony's instead)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mix the ingredients together and spread out on a pizza tray sprayed with pam. Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes. Flip pizza crust over when done &amp;amp; add your choice of toppings. &lt;i&gt;(Mine are below.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Pizza Toppings: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;1/2 c. Hunt's No Sugar Added Italian Style Sauce&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(or you can make your own low sugar sauce, some people do that)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
1/2 c. yellow pepper  &lt;br /&gt;
1/2 c. mushrooms  &lt;br /&gt;
1/2 c. mozzarella  &lt;br /&gt;
18 slices of turkey pepperoni or canadian bacon. Bake at 425 for 10 more minutes or until its cooked to your liking. Cool for 10 minutes before serving.&amp;nbsp;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Note: The crust does not come out as firm as a normal pizza; if you use a pizza stone it will help.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-720016730786258829?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t8CzpRa2ayDGqcq10eqiFfJziPo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t8CzpRa2ayDGqcq10eqiFfJziPo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/n33iMlRi-M4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/720016730786258829/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=720016730786258829" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/720016730786258829?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/720016730786258829?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/n33iMlRi-M4/great-pizza-fiasco.html" title="The Great Pizza Fiasco!" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8lmdYPHiyI/AAAAAAAAASk/PdQYZFgjkfk/s72-c/pizza.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/04/great-pizza-fiasco.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQMQn47fyp7ImA9WxFTGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-4095786233468124514</id><published>2010-04-10T01:27:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T03:33:03.007-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-10T03:33:03.007-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Kellan" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Emmi" /><title>My Little Poopsies</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I love my babies.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Though honestly, there are days that&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;they drive me a little batty.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AX6fUDItI/AAAAAAAAARc/bArAxdWh1gg/s1600/10836_183021234669_576029669_2761434_5559931_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AX6fUDItI/AAAAAAAAARc/bArAxdWh1gg/s400/10836_183021234669_576029669_2761434_5559931_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;They whine.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;They complain.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8Aa6EXsFzI/AAAAAAAAASM/zWCYJmqMLn0/s1600/10836_183021229669_576029669_2761433_5809985_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8Aa6EXsFzI/AAAAAAAAASM/zWCYJmqMLn0/s400/10836_183021229669_576029669_2761433_5809985_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;They ask the same question a million times, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;even though I've given them the answer&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;again and again.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AX-7uFPII/AAAAAAAAARk/kBWxEuQwyrA/s1600/10836_183021249669_576029669_2761436_4722039_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AX-7uFPII/AAAAAAAAARk/kBWxEuQwyrA/s400/10836_183021249669_576029669_2761436_4722039_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;They can't stand to be together&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;and they can't stand to be apart.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8Aa78wu9bI/AAAAAAAAASU/Dm1LeuNHuzA/s1600/10836_183021219669_576029669_2761432_5683021_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8Aa78wu9bI/AAAAAAAAASU/Dm1LeuNHuzA/s400/10836_183021219669_576029669_2761432_5683021_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;They giggle and they fight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;They pinch and they hug.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AYKHZt1UI/AAAAAAAAAR8/iZcQmNj3BWc/s1600/10836_183021239669_576029669_2761435_7553454_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AYKHZt1UI/AAAAAAAAAR8/iZcQmNj3BWc/s400/10836_183021239669_576029669_2761435_7553454_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Then they say something funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;They give me kisses and squeezes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;And they bat their eyes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AYM2mxyOI/AAAAAAAAASE/kJ7onFTjRYY/s1600/10836_184468984669_576029669_2771524_1276174_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AYM2mxyOI/AAAAAAAAASE/kJ7onFTjRYY/s400/10836_184468984669_576029669_2771524_1276174_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; And, my heart melts.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I love my babies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-4095786233468124514?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5KCMMkAjtOLXsFZ8cU5Ty6qyIoU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5KCMMkAjtOLXsFZ8cU5Ty6qyIoU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/V_mK7iUxYFs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/4095786233468124514/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=4095786233468124514" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/4095786233468124514?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/4095786233468124514?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/V_mK7iUxYFs/my-little-poopsies.html" title="My Little Poopsies" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/S8AX6fUDItI/AAAAAAAAARc/bArAxdWh1gg/s72-c/10836_183021234669_576029669_2761434_5559931_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-little-poopsies.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIERXs-cSp7ImA9WxBUFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-1137974293140182585</id><published>2010-03-03T10:57:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T17:05:04.559-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-03T17:05:04.559-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Moi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Living Life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Struggles" /><title>A New Journey</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Today is day one of a new journey for me.&amp;nbsp; Over the years, my body structure has, well let's just say changed for the worse.&amp;nbsp; I have become a me I never thought I would be and it has eventually affected nearly every aspect of my life.&amp;nbsp; I am 1.5 years away from turning 40 and I suppose maybe it's a little late, but not too late for a change.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think all this time, I just didn't see the total value that I have.&amp;nbsp; I didn't realize my worth.&amp;nbsp; I've always been on the shy side.&amp;nbsp; I've always been extremely self conscious.&amp;nbsp; I've kept words in my head that were spoken over me as a child and have let those words define me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have come to realize however that my worth is not in who I am, what I have, where I go, what I do or what I look like, but rather it is in the eyes of my heavenly father.&amp;nbsp; I AM valuable.&amp;nbsp; I AM beautiful.&amp;nbsp; (My mom tried to tell me that, but I never really heard her.)&amp;nbsp; I AM worth it.&amp;nbsp; I AM who God wants me to be, warts and all.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I'm not interested in hearing any "I told you so's" from anyone.&amp;nbsp; I'd rather not see any smug, knowing faces out of my periphereal vision.&amp;nbsp; I'm not going to listen to you tell me if only I had done this years earlier.&amp;nbsp; This is what works for me. And if it had to take getting me to this point to change, then that's my problem and not your topic of the day.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;This is the day that I am ready.&amp;nbsp; This is the time that I have chosen to begin.&amp;nbsp; Perhaps 38 years have passed of my life, perhaps I've only got 38 years left of my life.&amp;nbsp; But this is my real beginning, because, finally, finally, I know who I am.&amp;nbsp; I am chosen, holy and dearly loved by my ABBA father.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-1137974293140182585?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PIkAAdVF9pFOEI3s8EM6kt73rqI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PIkAAdVF9pFOEI3s8EM6kt73rqI/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/PIkAAdVF9pFOEI3s8EM6kt73rqI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PIkAAdVF9pFOEI3s8EM6kt73rqI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/SvhYrq6hQvI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/1137974293140182585/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=1137974293140182585" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/1137974293140182585?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/1137974293140182585?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/SvhYrq6hQvI/new-journey.html" title="A New Journey" /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-journey.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMFQHk6eyp7ImA9WxBTGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-806540262320050885</id><published>2009-12-15T15:22:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T15:26:51.713-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-15T15:26:51.713-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>T'was the Nightmare Before Christmas.</title><content type="html">There are only 4 more days left before our Christmas production.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I. Am. Scared.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf6R7TpvkI/AAAAAAAAAOk/EgXj0zK3RHw/s1600-h/IMG_0318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf6R7TpvkI/AAAAAAAAAOk/EgXj0zK3RHw/s200/IMG_0318.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;So much goes into these things.&amp;nbsp; So many man hours of practicing, rehearsing, preparing and&amp;nbsp;obsessing.&amp;nbsp; And usually the last rehearsals are the most frightening and leave all those involved feeling inadequate and cramming like a college student at the last minute for their finals.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf738JxJpI/AAAAAAAAAOs/FSf1jHS0_6w/s1600-h/IMG_0316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf738JxJpI/AAAAAAAAAOs/FSf1jHS0_6w/s200/IMG_0316.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Costumes to be sewn.&amp;nbsp; Dance steps to learn.&amp;nbsp; Outfits to shop for.&amp;nbsp; Another Christmas tree to decorate.&amp;nbsp; Stage to be set.&amp;nbsp; Programs to be made.&amp;nbsp; Lighting &amp;amp; media to plan out.&amp;nbsp; Breathe.&amp;nbsp; Pant-pant!&amp;nbsp; Inhale.&amp;nbsp; Exhale!&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/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf8TrBkNkI/AAAAAAAAAO0/QemrfgLwweg/s1600-h/IMG_0317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf8TrBkNkI/AAAAAAAAAO0/QemrfgLwweg/s200/IMG_0317.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;But somehow, almost magically, it all seems to fall into place on the big day.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf9VMZdIMI/AAAAAAAAAO8/kAxm0d9ydTE/s1600-h/IMG_0319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf9VMZdIMI/AAAAAAAAAO8/kAxm0d9ydTE/s200/IMG_0319.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Nerves will be raw, throats may be scratchy, costumes might&amp;nbsp;be rustling, children will be giddy.&amp;nbsp; But it will be exciting, it will be beautiful, it will be poignant and then it will be over all too soon. &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/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf9s6lRAZI/AAAAAAAAAPE/wwQER1SUUl4/s1600-h/IMG_0320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf9s6lRAZI/AAAAAAAAAPE/wwQER1SUUl4/s200/IMG_0320.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I. Can't. Wait!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-806540262320050885?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iXcShXVxemQ56kBgR-HjdLWTNvg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iXcShXVxemQ56kBgR-HjdLWTNvg/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/iXcShXVxemQ56kBgR-HjdLWTNvg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iXcShXVxemQ56kBgR-HjdLWTNvg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~4/IfPs_CImjMY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/806540262320050885/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5929787334769664070&amp;postID=806540262320050885" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/806540262320050885?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5929787334769664070/posts/default/806540262320050885?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/zDUEV/~3/IfPs_CImjMY/twas-nightmare-before-christmas.html" title="T'was the Nightmare Before Christmas." /><author><name>Sharon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5ReDsLmhUk/TyBtIHJ4gRI/AAAAAAAAAZE/qIP7DH-21ug/s220/IMG_0332.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y0ruPWMUGEs/Syf6R7TpvkI/AAAAAAAAAOk/EgXj0zK3RHw/s72-c/IMG_0318.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com/2009/12/twas-nightmare-before-christmas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EGQn04eCp7ImA9WxBTGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5929787334769664070.post-5531484480762538567</id><published>2009-12-12T22:38:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T13:33:43.330-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-15T13:33:43.330-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Recipes" /><title>You Want More?!?</title><content type="html">Made this for the Ladies meeting tonight &amp;amp; got more requests for the recipe so here you are girls! Gee I'm feeling so popular lately! Who knew?!? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Dump Cake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
1 can crushed pineapple&lt;br /&gt;
1 can cherry pie filling&lt;br /&gt;
1 box of yellow Duncan Hines cake mix&lt;br /&gt;
1 cup of chopped pecans&lt;br /&gt;
1 &amp;amp; 1/2 sticks of margarine, melted&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Dump pineapple in the bottom of a 13×19 in dish. Next dump on cherry pie filling. Then dump on cake mix. Then dump on chopped nuts. Next, pour melted butter over top of whole mixture. Bake at 350 for appx 1 hour. Yum!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-5531484480762538567?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
We were introduced to this first recipe by our Pastors in Arkansas at &lt;a href="http://www.victorychurchnwa.com/staff.html"&gt;Victory Church&lt;/a&gt;. Being so far from our family for the 5 years we served there, we often spent our holidays with The Coffman's and they graciously adopted us into their family during that time! And one of the many things we gleaned from them during those years was this delicious recipe that Ms. Jeanne, our Pastor's wife, would serve every Thanksgiving and Christmas! This is definitely the way to get your kids to eat their veggies! And EVERY time I make it for family, friends or a church function I am inundated by requests for the recipe! It's so easy and DELICIOUS! I usually prepare it the night before the big meal so I can just pop it in the oven when it's almost time for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ms. Jeanne's Veggie Casserole&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
2 lb frozen mixed veggies (green bean, carrot, corn mix)&lt;br /&gt;
8 oz sour cream&lt;br /&gt;
1 C mayonaise&lt;br /&gt;
2 C shredded cheddar cheese&lt;br /&gt;
1 roll Ritz crackers&lt;br /&gt;
1/2 C butter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Cook veggies, drain water, salt &amp;amp; pepper to taste. Mix sour cream &amp;amp; mayonaise. Combine with veggies &amp;amp; cheese. Crush crackers &amp;amp; mix with melted butter. Put cracker mixture on top. Cook at 350 for 20 min if you are making it fresh, if you have had it in the fridge overnight, cook for 45 to 1 hr. (Tip: I usually double the crackers/butter mix so there is a nice thick topping to spread across the top.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The next recipe comes from a good friend of mine who brought us some meals while Donnie was recovering from one of his &lt;a href="http://www.nnff.com/survivors/donnie_thibodaux/donnie_thibodaux.htm"&gt;surgeries&lt;/a&gt; and she also had baked us a loaf of fresh banana bread. It was so delicious I had to have her recipe! Every year I ask her for it again because I never put it in my recipe box, but now it's official on it's very own index card! I like to give them as gifts but we always keep several loaves for home too. Donnie hates bananas, but he LOVES this banana bread!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lisa's Banana Bread&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
1 C sugar&lt;br /&gt;
2 eggs&lt;br /&gt;
2 bananas&lt;br /&gt;
dash salt&lt;br /&gt;
1/2 C butter&lt;br /&gt;
1 tsp baking soda&lt;br /&gt;
1 T milk&lt;br /&gt;
2 C flour&lt;br /&gt;
1 tsp vanilla&lt;br /&gt;
1/2 C pecans optional&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Mash the bananas until it has the consistency of baby food. Mix your dry ingredients and then mix in the wet ingredients. Add pecans as desired. Bake at 350 for 1 hr. (Tip: If giving as gifts, this recipe will make 3 mini loafs.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5929787334769664070-805223062323069832?l=shadesoflaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/1120.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/s_1120.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Hot dogs with chili. Nachos. Candy. Tummy aches. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/1121.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" src="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/s_1121.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="281" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Sticky hands &amp;amp; faces. Stinky feet. Grumpiness. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/1122.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/s_1122.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
More candy. Brushing of teeth. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/1123.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="281" src="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/s_1123.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Tucking in bed. Prayers. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/1124.jpg"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" src="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/09/10/31/s_1124.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="281" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Daylight savings time. Ibuprofen for mommy. ... What a wonderful day!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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