tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113376672024-03-14T08:57:06.712-07:00La La LandThis is my life. Really.Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.comBlogger700125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-9977742344204005562019-03-25T18:08:00.002-07:002019-03-25T18:08:52.496-07:00Just a yearly thing, I thinkK.<br />
<br />
It's a thing. Every time I start a new novel I feel the need to get out the extra thoughts on blogger. Because, of course, it's rude to inundate my friends with random bursts of texts that really are just loose thoughts that need a place to land. This is a safe place for them to land - they don't annoy anyone, only the people that want to read them have to read them, and most important, my friends don't block me.<br />
<br />
It's not their fault. I just have so many extra thoughts.<br />
<br />
Tonight's extra thought that's just burning itself into me to the point of distraction is the desire I'm having right now to eat ice cream, watch a murder mystery, and write, all at the same time.<br />
<br />
I can only do two. Which two?<br />
<br />
Happy Monday, it's almost spring!<br />
<br />
<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-39073100817139237622018-05-13T18:51:00.002-07:002018-05-13T18:51:38.097-07:00May 2018 - Hello againHello again.<br />
<br />
Are you still there?<br />
It's okay if you're not. I disappeared for a year. I get it.<br />
I'm back again, but I know that once you leave a place, when you come back, you're never quite the same person as when you left; and the place isn't really the same as it was.<br />
<br />
And that's okay, too.<br />
<br />
Right now, it's hailing outside. I can hear it beating against the window.<br />
<br />
Right now, the TV cleverly attached to the barn door that hides storage is playing my favorite-ish songs.<br />
Right now, I'm about to start writing in my new space.<br />
<br />
Okay, it's in the basement, but it's finished, and it's decorated with all my stuff, and it's sweet. There are even plants! And it's mine.<br />
<br />
I've been tossing over my next novel for a while now, and then had to make some decisions on my past works. It's crazy, as a writer, you get so many ideas. Too many ideas! You can write full drafts, and realize it's not going to work. You can write pages and realize the story will work. You can abandon pieces because you can fix them, but don't have the heart to. Writing is unlike any other endeavor. It's a bit crazy.<br />
<br />
I've got one first draft and one second draft aging in my drawer and on my hard drive. I'm working on a third first draft. It's exciting, but i realized this week I'm ready to work again on the second draft, my YA Space Story which I just love, and even though I kept telling myself I was going to let it go, I can't. So this fall, we'll be pulling that one out again and seeing what there is that I'm attached to.<br />
<br />
I know I haven't blogged in bah, who knows how long, but I found I really needed to get off social media for a while. A while turned into almost a year. Now, I've got a twitter and an instagram and this, and that's it. So, if you're here still, that's cool. If not, it's okay.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-21906847673385219592017-04-12T18:07:00.002-07:002017-04-12T18:07:58.624-07:00Things I would have tweeted...If I hadn't given up social media for a late lent.<br />
<br />
I know, I know, you can't be 'late' for Lent. It's marked on the calendars. But time isn't real so Lent can be whenever we want it to be.<br />
<br />
I haven't actually given up anything for Lent in years, but I wish I gave up social media at the beginning of Lent so I could tell people I was doing it for Lent.<br />
<br />
Then they'd be like, 'oh you're Catholic?' and then I'd stare at them and let an uncomfortable silence take place while I thought about it.<br />
<br />
I'm not doing it for Late Lent, which should totally be a thing, for people who were thinking about giving something up, but then couldn't get it together that day, or were weak and blew it on Hour 3. It could be like, 'okay, so you missed First Lent, but don't worry, start now, for Second Lent, and remember, Third Lent is your last chance for sacrifices!<br />
<br />
I'm not doing it for regular Lent either. I'm doing it because I had a social media hissy fit, and I think I'm kind of still having it. I'm only blogging tonight because I'm getting ready to write, and my favorite person to pester before I write has already been inundated with messages from me, so.... it's you, Aunt Connie, just you,,,,<br />
<br />
But it's okay. Life is better without social media, really, because I don't have the kind of days that lend itself to social media success but mainly because social media cuts into my writing time. It's an unchecked form of procrastination that leads to actually non-productivity and a deep yearning to move to Canada.<br />
<br />
But here are things I'd have tweeted this week if I hadn't given it up:<br />
<br />
<i>Cat chasing puppy. Can't help think my pup is doing dog wrong.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Twitterverse... it's the pause between a million voices on Alderaan crying out in terror and those voices being suddenly silenced ... think about it....</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Cookie Crisp and Coconut Milk. It's what's for dinner.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Chic taking pics of a pair of new running shoes on bench. Very artsy. Prob. an instagram moment.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I want to feed these coffee shop twigs the cupcakes they're peddling. EAT Skeletor's Minions, EAAAATT...</i><br />
<br />
Facebook status' I'd have posted.<br />
<br />
<i>Writing.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Oooh another British Murder Mystery to watch! Heaven!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>A chicken drumstick - it's what's for dinner.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Picture of dog.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Picture of dog.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Guilt picture of fat old cat. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Picture of fat old cat staring down dog.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Writing. Ugh. It hurts... why do the words hurt...</i><br />
<br />
Instagram pics I'd have posted:<br />
<br />
<i>Dog</i><br />
<i>Dog</i><br />
<i>Dog</i><br />
<i>Cat</i><br />
<i>Dog</i><br />
<i>Random budding leaf because feeling artsy</i><br />
<i>Dog </i><br />
<i>Dog</i><br />
<i>Pedicure/delete cuz of fat toe</i><br />
<i>Lavender Latte: see feeling artsy</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-83235989561334126642017-04-02T18:00:00.001-07:002017-04-02T18:00:38.988-07:00Writing procrastination post - literallyThis blog is mostly a procrastinating the writing blog. I mean, I'm writing tonight, and I have the scene I'm writing in my head, but before I can sit down and write, I have to get all the pre-writing jitters out.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lets see, today, I took the dog on a long walk, I went to the store for random things, decided to pay bills and get all my tax items ready, and looked up kong-stuffing recipes. All of that sounds like normal, reasonable things to do on a weekend, but mostly I did them to avoid this moment, where I'm getting ready to write. I also stopped myself from starting a cleaning project... cleaning projects are the greatest writing procrastination technique in my arsenal of writing procrastination techniques. I suspect I'm not the only writer who uses it, but unlike other writers, I know full well I can write in a messy room/house/desk/whatever... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I mean, my house isn't SUPER messy today. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Writing, though. I'm writing. I read from some author that all writers have the same repertoire of characters, and as the writer gets better, they cast the characters better. I wonder if that's true, or if the characters just keep recurring until you find the right story for them.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And... blog post procrastination is over, so off to the novel I go.</div>
Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-84624228935366168542017-03-28T20:03:00.000-07:002017-03-28T20:05:16.151-07:00Some nights are just rough, man And tonight is one of those nights.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypUCYBaEla2nudnJGp1icqFmhaVWB3dEECRpKhp8kjoAd3Q0TdITbfv7SCpHXxgOPlKnpPNQk4HbKH2rQv-aCV_oDTBgdbmVveMoJPPOp7tKmwUao8X0G_IXniEYRwVVs6oIK5w/s1600/IMG_0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypUCYBaEla2nudnJGp1icqFmhaVWB3dEECRpKhp8kjoAd3Q0TdITbfv7SCpHXxgOPlKnpPNQk4HbKH2rQv-aCV_oDTBgdbmVveMoJPPOp7tKmwUao8X0G_IXniEYRwVVs6oIK5w/s320/IMG_0017.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What is this personal space you speak of?<br />
Why don't you want me to bark? Bark bark bark<br />I don't want to be renamed Barky McBarky Puppy Pants</td></tr>
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I've been listening to this chill Pandora station all day and all night and it's been enough to barely keep the edge off. I'm all raw and grumpy. Cranky grumpy me. It's not a good look on me. Well, it might be, but most likely not.<br />
<br />
It all started last night, of course, when I had a perfectly great night and went to sleep early, only to be woken up at midnight by a combination of rain pounding outside, a dripping on metal that wouldn't stop, and the thunking of something in the dryer because my 13 year old Bear needed clean underwear and decided it was reasonable to do laundry after 11 p.m.<br />
<br />
From there, it was listening to the rain, the snoring husband, huffing puppy, and the never-ending thoughts that assault you when you're awake past midnight. Then the coughing kid. So I got up and demanded Bear take allergy medicine in case I dunno... (I might have pointed out how when he was four he had an asthmatic attack that put him in the hospital and it started JUST LIKE THIS, so stop arguing and take the medicine, kid, because hey, why not freak out the prone-to-hypochondria kid? Bear could stay up fretting the night away, too!)<br />
<br />
I never went back to sleep really, but made it to work thinking I'd get through the day and it'd be good. Nap at home. Nap nap nap nap....<br />
<br />
Even managed to walk the dog this morning in the same pouring rain that helped keep me up, scoffed down waaaay too much coffee. Felt like a proper writer then - surrounded by rain and powered by caffeine - but it was a looong day, and home... ahhh home.... I mean, I had my nap planned before I walked out the door today...<br />
<br />
Made it home and couldn't catch a break. Not. A. Break. No nap, FYI.<br />
<br />
More Pandora. It's still on. I'm listening to Florence and the Machine and the Pierces, and Halsey of all things.<br />
<br />
But this is my night tonight, in convenient bullet format:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>The dog is an untrained barking lunatic when people knock at the door and someone knocked at the door - looking for their kid. We never met this dad before - his first impression is a monster puppy and a yelling grumpy lady going on about knocking it off puppy monster of death aaahhhh QUIEEETTT.... probably never see his kid again....</li>
<li>The teen boys are untrained, fighting and bickering brothers who, now that they have their own rooms, barge into each other's rooms to start and finish fights.... yup, think they're still fighting....</li>
<li>The youngest cat won't stop meowing because he hates the dog....</li>
<li>The old cat doesn't have the energy but I feel I should mention him anyhow...</li>
<li>There's nothing on television interesting enough to bother with so I can't drain my brain... </li>
<li>No one (meaning me) can nap in these conditions so it's about 9 p.m. and I'm like all over-caffeinated and hyper-sensitive exposed-nerves chick and I should go to bed but I'm trapped...</li>
</ul>
<br />
But, I did write. I worked on my new draft. I'm becoming the draft queen. I have two novels in various draft stages - one first draft, one third draft, and now, this. It's a difficult decision to not send a novel out to try and be sold. Most people would think it's crazy. I'll probably send the YA Sci Fi out, but my heart is really in this one work I'm on and I think this could get published since YA Sci Fi Dystopia is kinda overdone.<br />
<br />
Of course, of course, I think it's utter drivel. And I hope I can fit the phrase 'utter drivel' in my novel because I think ti's underutilized.<br />
<br />
But hey, I wrote, even though I'm tired, sooo tired, and cranky, and on edge, and tired, and it's nowhere NEAR the weekend.<br />
<br />
So many words.<br />
So many days until the weekend.<br />
So little sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-55839116433924467242017-03-18T07:03:00.001-07:002017-03-18T07:03:53.018-07:00Hello friends, I'm back again :)I've come to the astounding conclusion no one actually cares if I lose weight or not.<br />
<br />
Oh sure, if I lose a noticeable amount, they'll say 'oh you look great' or 'are you ill?' but then, they'll quickly move on, because they don't really care.<br />
<br />
It's true. I know you don't care if I lose weight, oh sure, you'll root for me and say well-done, but I don't look SO very different with the =/- ten pounds to everyone.<br />
<br />
Except me, but I stopped obsessing over it. Oh okay, slightly. I'll get a new fitbit, I'll enjoy salads, but for me its' a yearly ritual. Plan to lose twenty pounds overall, lose ten pounds over the summer, gain ten pounds over the winter... etc. This year, I'm going to try to lose twenty pounds between now and next winter, and not gain any, but I'm not losing sleep over it.<br />
<br />
Writing - I am working on a rough draft of a new work, which I'm excited about, but I started writing it at 5 a.m. and it made me sad, so if I do it right, it's a tear jerker people. This does pose a problem, though, because at the same time, I've got my Sci Fi YA novel first draft and second draft done. After my supreme reader friend read it and pointed out the issues with it, I was like 'Forget it' because I didn't think I could fix them, they're not BIG just timely. But the characters won't leave me alone, which tells me the story needs to be told. Luckily, it's not a first draft, and it just needs revising, which is different than the free-flow writing of a first draft, but it's a lot of writing, and it's two different stories. If I seem to be in several places at once, it's because I'm living in this world while in my head I'm split between two others.<br />
<br />
I re-read some inspirational writing quotes, and those always help. It also helps that I'm writing so early in the morning. I begin the day feeling I've accomplished the most important thing, the thing that keeps my sanity in check. I know I'm a writer, and I know if I don't write, I become miserable, unfocused, untethered, and generally discontent. I'm most at peace when I'm writing. It's the same with running/jogging/wogging whatever, the difference is, I could live without the jogging/running, but I don't think I could live without the writing. The running helps the writing, but the reverse is not true.<br />
<br />
I'm very chatty today. It's because over the past few months, my mind has been off somewhere sorting stories and words and things out, while in my life, I've been sorting and working things out.<br />
<br />
My 20 year old is out of the house now, on her own and all that. My sons are teenagers that have their own rooms, opinions, and ideas of what to do with their days. My husband is happy in his job. I'm happy in my job. I've got a dog to walk and who I'll eventually hike and run with. I'm hoping for a calm season of writing and hiking and laughing.<br />
<br />
But lots of writing.<br />
<br />
And tuna eating, I think.<br />
<br />
I know I should add a picture to this blog, but I think I'm overdoing it with the dog.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WGzkGi5XnJuyK3WV1118FNTr6RjjuqOU_YueiPcNE217ztMvdaKhkA5uvQiFSV652Vb2o1GPwRTzJ-ruGthXMb-mYx2ZaK8uaI44eRBXZQONz6rsy6pxZ3UZVkEnDSC0KADtsA/s1600/IMG_3050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WGzkGi5XnJuyK3WV1118FNTr6RjjuqOU_YueiPcNE217ztMvdaKhkA5uvQiFSV652Vb2o1GPwRTzJ-ruGthXMb-mYx2ZaK8uaI44eRBXZQONz6rsy6pxZ3UZVkEnDSC0KADtsA/s320/IMG_3050.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I dislike the dog intensely. My ear is inflamed and red and no one<br />knows why. I'm 15 years old, which means I can be old, cranky,<br />and overall, an asshole. I've earned it through longevity.</td></tr>
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<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-70786784060345583302017-03-16T16:31:00.000-07:002017-03-16T16:40:01.548-07:00Introducing Watson<br />
So here's Watson at four months old.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JrUElmBimr2ZjvjJiTeRT8PWuq774lrNC6oaamC-1VKqIvIqUaVWFWUKMshdOQV-i5H-im-_eQ7zjhz8-sd3YsWETZtnQLFBBhpmqjKQN2S90n7-3r14TXEcV-e-GHgt6p3guA/s1600/DSC_0482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JrUElmBimr2ZjvjJiTeRT8PWuq774lrNC6oaamC-1VKqIvIqUaVWFWUKMshdOQV-i5H-im-_eQ7zjhz8-sd3YsWETZtnQLFBBhpmqjKQN2S90n7-3r14TXEcV-e-GHgt6p3guA/s320/DSC_0482.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Four months old and so handsome.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91QBvEwO_fptLQudIm9Y9mi-smNw0ulIoRWHlc_HCAebtnHGvfjYUPkBqiEfFg1Q1yLXPXbJH9RKeKZKMwEwWaKpiLj5HEVIwJFBsCeKk7KrVj0LfMmfXQHwHimmwOebNen2DMQ/s1600/DSC_0463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91QBvEwO_fptLQudIm9Y9mi-smNw0ulIoRWHlc_HCAebtnHGvfjYUPkBqiEfFg1Q1yLXPXbJH9RKeKZKMwEwWaKpiLj5HEVIwJFBsCeKk7KrVj0LfMmfXQHwHimmwOebNen2DMQ/s320/DSC_0463.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Look into my deep, soulful eyes. Deep. So very deep.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_Wc8jGShjXnNeUqdWzRKX1eH9d-ttokRw9QjJWx6dvyq9wk4G9NlZbcn2Li_NxEnNUsqZjejG8lrCL1hsWJO4d6F8VGEZKV6Q1TCnXcnnJ_n9CC3WlFRAkQKKgi7TAcUUf8MTQ/s1600/DSC_0472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_Wc8jGShjXnNeUqdWzRKX1eH9d-ttokRw9QjJWx6dvyq9wk4G9NlZbcn2Li_NxEnNUsqZjejG8lrCL1hsWJO4d6F8VGEZKV6Q1TCnXcnnJ_n9CC3WlFRAkQKKgi7TAcUUf8MTQ/s320/DSC_0472.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I totally am not cattle dog. Nope. No sire.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhacP4jKzie6eFhh-Xr57hSPcvR4TnL1QPplK0WDmKujpxR08ItVBFJKw0CUj6uHxj9byDN2FrJM5KzwqAvUc__RQY7RtFDnL1HWLpZv2y6LpWF4Ov4drDvtkP-oZS7E92ZlIB82Q/s1600/DSC_0473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhacP4jKzie6eFhh-Xr57hSPcvR4TnL1QPplK0WDmKujpxR08ItVBFJKw0CUj6uHxj9byDN2FrJM5KzwqAvUc__RQY7RtFDnL1HWLpZv2y6LpWF4Ov4drDvtkP-oZS7E92ZlIB82Q/s320/DSC_0473.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well... maybe a little bit...? And by the way... if you don't<br />throw that toy, I'll fetch you...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2nsOEZqNsqOrDGeswvy9MEK4qZMAusATmDvT3ar4avyx1-vBDgiN8starfOBkkDP9Uq36jmFNRu4MCHybKhbZ2YT_8qu2JXeFn8iI7eEU7XHruai6Rnh3DSvdL6cKLbBqKfZmw/s1600/DSC_0492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2nsOEZqNsqOrDGeswvy9MEK4qZMAusATmDvT3ar4avyx1-vBDgiN8starfOBkkDP9Uq36jmFNRu4MCHybKhbZ2YT_8qu2JXeFn8iI7eEU7XHruai6Rnh3DSvdL6cKLbBqKfZmw/s320/DSC_0492.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I can be stately. Alert. I'll let you know that pizza man is here.<br /> Yes, yes, I do look part Terrier. <br />Because I am.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitnQhK5FapBEfmC2obZaxqDBGNHZoJW8wqH78P2_jWhvFxZDkT9Akq4x-CRgck2_Gkrqm8LcN3zHQ8mDmazp0NGXRSgCydd33jHRkjMFB0x2_1TiZyc4k_df9vXT5OtLkBBcichg/s1600/DSC_0491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitnQhK5FapBEfmC2obZaxqDBGNHZoJW8wqH78P2_jWhvFxZDkT9Akq4x-CRgck2_Gkrqm8LcN3zHQ8mDmazp0NGXRSgCydd33jHRkjMFB0x2_1TiZyc4k_df9vXT5OtLkBBcichg/s320/DSC_0491.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm going to be very good. So I'm crossing my ears... <br />What? It means nothing. Stop anthropomorphizing me. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAibSCzSrPFwN0gIgl4sSKNbeNIC7iF9v9slsJ2VzGUYhehWTp2U5_4RDi_1AglOyhMG61D-fF64OCw3D1gezYu4yYDihUVNp97AjpHJZStnlbBlNKg1-V3bQ_dqdUY7j9dgBcw/s1600/DSC_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAibSCzSrPFwN0gIgl4sSKNbeNIC7iF9v9slsJ2VzGUYhehWTp2U5_4RDi_1AglOyhMG61D-fF64OCw3D1gezYu4yYDihUVNp97AjpHJZStnlbBlNKg1-V3bQ_dqdUY7j9dgBcw/s320/DSC_0495.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm so very Watson.</span></td></tr>
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<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-58375768637880169492017-01-14T19:32:00.002-08:002017-01-14T19:35:21.460-08:00I know, it's been a while. Just look at the cat pictures.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I know, I know, it's been a while.<br />
Here's my Bounder's adorable face that hides his kinda jerk-ish nature. Except now, because he's so old, he's kind of nice by default. He can't bound anymore, like he used to. Oh how I miss those days when we played that game where we'd wait for me to sneak into the bedroom where he was hiding under the bed, and we would see if he could leap out and attack my legs before I could jump onto the bed from five feet away… fun times… He can't do that anymore. Now he just sits on the couch or bed next to me and gets pets.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvRnSBAsgy9of0-hn0lNqCJf39d33DgcLGkah_1a4ZgJPE4H3h69mg3Y6B3JLjgcSFGBP36uyzeOvNQt90koMq0mQEAyr9mUTzIe6W3M0zMhY880aBgmGTPoBZUDBvZJBT5GnPg/s1600/IMG_2739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvRnSBAsgy9of0-hn0lNqCJf39d33DgcLGkah_1a4ZgJPE4H3h69mg3Y6B3JLjgcSFGBP36uyzeOvNQt90koMq0mQEAyr9mUTzIe6W3M0zMhY880aBgmGTPoBZUDBvZJBT5GnPg/s320/IMG_2739.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Of course I'm judging you. Also, where's my food, and can I<br />
rest my entire 20 pounds of awesome on top of your chest?<br />
You don't really need to breathe that much, right?</td></tr>
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Here's Cogsley. He's cute. That should distract you. He doesn't jump out and attack anyone though he has been known to chase a bug or two.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZHL_xShUtJhPQSCnA7Zy5_Z5xkBGemhnzljP2u1hqyVl__D2oWG_g434dr6zR2xFsB6pl9Hy-6vBdbu4BaUPXjtkwGjWGh88kfU_1dck1rJurxHxWOhV37fcytMCL7qs3RyvaQ/s1600/cogs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZHL_xShUtJhPQSCnA7Zy5_Z5xkBGemhnzljP2u1hqyVl__D2oWG_g434dr6zR2xFsB6pl9Hy-6vBdbu4BaUPXjtkwGjWGh88kfU_1dck1rJurxHxWOhV37fcytMCL7qs3RyvaQ/s320/cogs.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
If he looks like a kinda mad professor, he's not, but he is very fluffy and soft, and kinda prissy, and exceptionally chatty and needy. But he's not my cat, he's Husbear's, so he spends his days demanding Husbear talk to him, pet him, play with him, and entertain him.<br />
I have never met a more high maintenance cat.<br />
<br />
As for not being on the blog, It's because for a few months, I had to take a short break from social media - I was spending far to much time socializing and getting anxious and worked up that I stopped doing the things I enjoyed.<br />
<br />
Like, the quilting, baking, writing, (not enough writing), organizing house, yearly decluttering (right, I haven't actually started yet, but I have DREAMED about it, and planned it) and all the other things that social media and streaming shows like Grimm make it impossible to do.<br />
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This is the quilt I started in like, 2015. I think. Anyhow, I said I would finish it in 2016 after not finishing it in 2016. I'm slow with quilts, and that's okay. It's a hobby that I do when I've hit my limit with writing and need to take a break.<br />
<br />
I've got the fabric (most of it) and am ready to start this year's quilt, but I'm thinking I want to make a full, queen size quilt so I might need more fabric.<br />
<br />
These are the deep thoughts I think, and it makes me happy that they aren't that deep. I save the deep thoughts for writing.<br />
<br />
Writing, yes, where am I with that? Well, I've been procrastinating the last revision, because it struck me, I need to get rid of a character that is pretty much in every scene. But she does nothing. So she has to go. Ugh. So sad.<br />
<br />
But it's okay. It's writing.<br />
<br />
Then, there's also this place that I work. I've only been there six months, but I like it. I like the work. I like the people. I like the culture. I like the values. I like the sense of giving back and meaning. I like the location. It's a very different culture and vibe than my last gig (skipping the year of trying the freelance business,). This is the location:<br />
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It snows every day there, because I work in a snow globe. It's awesome. I've always wanted to work in a snow globe. I can't wait til July. It'll be really fun then.<br />
<br />
Anyhow, it's on Pearl Street, and Pearl Street is gorgeous, so it's always nice.<br />
<br />
I don't even have anything much to say today, just wanted to say 'hi' to everyone, and leave it at that. Oh, and to give you some updated cat pictures, and to let you know that you must never, ever, call my son Sparky, because apparently that is not okay.<br />
Right now Bear (who can not be called Sparky) is actually reading the instructions for his screen editing software because he wants to do classy, professional looking game narration videos because that is totally a thing. I dread it because I'll have to monitor his youtube account for mean comments.<br />
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Now this is my cat. Hiding his cute adorable face. He's old. So old. Okay, only 15 years old.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Bounder. He's 15 and old. And hiding his face<br />
because he just can't… just caaaannn't.<br />
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<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-50818236472624916362016-11-15T17:55:00.002-08:002016-11-15T18:01:12.480-08:00All that Tolkien said that mattters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I said this to someone today, and she laughed, because it totally outed me as a geek. Most of the people I work with kinda know that about me. It just sorta comes out. I often think about what to do with the time I have, and I've blogged about it, and so, of course, you all know, I choose to write with that time (and quilt and bake and whine about the writing). One day, maybe, like Tolkien, I'll be published. I'm probably not going to write an entire epic journey filled with the most direly important quests - unlike Tolkien. And there probably won't be a separate language attached to my stories. But, there will be a book...<br />
<br />
I've been thinking about the stories I want to write, and keep wanting to drift into a middle world fantasy, taking me far away from the Science Fiction I'm writing now - it's the ultimate escapism. <br />
<br />
I've also been thinking about what to do now, in a world where suddenly, people are nervous and afraid for the future. Oh, they are. There's no use pretending they aren't, or telling them to knock it off. Or to work toward unity. We're too far past that. Too much has been said. It's part of the reason why I pulled back from social media, and the news even. There's so much pain and hate on both sides.<br />
<br />
I feel our world has gone mad. Or maybe, looking through history, it's normal for our world to be mad, and this is just how it is. This is not like any other election, or any other year. People are not protesting because they lost the election, people are protesting because they are afraid they will lose their civil rights; their freedoms. They are protesting the voice of mockery and hatred that somehow was not silenced over the course of 16 months. This is a reaction from fear - fear that the things they had will be taken away. I refuse to rage and hate though. I still believe there's a better way than anger.<br />
<br />
But I am sad. I didn't want my sons to grow up in a time of turbulence and strife, a time of hardship, when hate and intolerance are trying to gain a foothold in the hearts of my countrymen/women/children. I didn't want them to enter their last year of Middle School and enter High School in a climate of political and social turbulence.<br />
<br />
Which brings me back to Tolkien. We all wish that our kids would know peace, prosperity, and kindness, but we can not choose the time they live. We have to raise them with integrity and character and strength, because they are growing up now, no matter the state of the country or the world, and all they can do is decide what to do with the time given them. Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-75658244794753347212016-11-11T14:32:00.000-08:002016-11-11T14:32:35.621-08:00Addicted to the CrownThis post is completely unrelated to the post title.<br />
It's a marketing no-no. I didn't want a dramatic post title though, and I am addicted to the Crown.<br />
<br />
I deactivated my facebook account. I think I need a break from it all. It's not the people on it, not my friends and family, it's the other 'stuff' that I didn't realize I was taking in, all the ads and upworthy content and things that, no matter how much you try to filter out, still pops up. Some of the comments from friends of friends or watching Facebook's annoying habit of changing things around so all your settings sometimes, wonkily, reset to ones you didn't want. I'm over it. I didn't delete it, but I did deactivate it. I think people can still post on it or chat to me, but if you do, and I don't respond, you'll know why. I 'believe' I still have messenger.<br />
<br />
I could have put this on Facebook but honestly, the thing that Facebook peeps hate is people posting on Facebook they're leaving Facebook.<br />
<br />
These next two months of the <span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">anno horribilis I plan to hide out a bit, and regroup with myself. There's tons of writing to do, lots of quilting and baking, and of course, my job, my family, and my friends. Life goes on. It's not a call for complacency, it's a reminder to live. Be aware of the clowns, but don't let the clowns destroy you. Don't go off with clowns, either...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">I won't be on Facebook. I'll occasionally pop on Twitter. I'll occasionally post to the La La Land Facebook through Husbear's facebook because he hasn't used it, so there will be literally nothing on his wall. We'll see how two months Facebook free goes, and maybe I'll be back in January, or maybe not. Maybe if my feed is all cats, I'll be back on.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">I would love to move to Canada, but that's because Canada is becoming more and more what America is supposed to represent. (It always was, I mean, they haven't changed, but we have) but really, moving to another country requires well, a job in that country lol. It's okay, Canada, I'm not taking it personally. I always did like Canada, though, even before it was cool to like Canada!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #212121;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">See you all in a bit! I've got some writing to do.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-62650105766462231432016-11-05T10:34:00.004-07:002016-11-05T10:35:04.576-07:00It's still fall - no rush to leave the trees...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYIuaPOHoYDLZwyjc8-s5f_MupDET4vhq53mZ19Bn2wM-rkrbGyzOAKnaESTioHQ_B9IDMWPu9Dpnw7gxtRvSJOFBKAKNsc9l8mRJepjcmmmkqccjziLukzNVILFgA-DONc7LcA/s1600/IMG_2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYIuaPOHoYDLZwyjc8-s5f_MupDET4vhq53mZ19Bn2wM-rkrbGyzOAKnaESTioHQ_B9IDMWPu9Dpnw7gxtRvSJOFBKAKNsc9l8mRJepjcmmmkqccjziLukzNVILFgA-DONc7LcA/s400/IMG_2529.jpg" width="372" /></a>Winter is coming. Eventually. It's hard to believe, since outside it's sunny and getting into the high 60s. But this tree, this tree knows winter is coming. It's bright yellow leaves are drooping and some have already fled for the great leaf pile in the sky. My boys probably know winter is coming, though they've been avoiding it, still wearing flip flops and shoes. It is coming, though. The mornings and evenings are cooler and there's a slight nip in the air, even on warm days. I've mentioned a bunch of times that fall and spring, the seasons in-between, are my favorite. This year, I think the leaves are clinging to the trees longer than most. Usually, a storm or wind will come and take them away, leaving us stuck with bare branches until snow falls, and melts, leaving us bare branches again...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KRRhQK1ceUYCoWRFvw7r9MS66lyMXqE1N9ATFUcL9abAi6Y0DVB6nfKz9QTr8q4Wjx2EafiMrITylqb7LEtMe8CLWZqIQh01dHm9ks5tsDNEKkowaMj-0a1p-tnkKhmUIlUh6w/s1600/IMG_2528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KRRhQK1ceUYCoWRFvw7r9MS66lyMXqE1N9ATFUcL9abAi6Y0DVB6nfKz9QTr8q4Wjx2EafiMrITylqb7LEtMe8CLWZqIQh01dHm9ks5tsDNEKkowaMj-0a1p-tnkKhmUIlUh6w/s320/IMG_2528.JPG" width="320" /></a>This year, I noticed the winter flannel sheets I normally toss on the boys' beds were missing. I have no idea where they went. I have found a pillowcase. That's about it. So I bought fun winter flannel sheets. I have this thing about winter. It's cold, so everything should be fun. Otherwise it's just a really cold season. Changing the tablecloths for each holiday and season and the sheets each season is my one tribute to Pottery Barn, but I do it on a Target budget. These are the cutest sheets I bought this year. The fun prints go on the boys' beds. Husbear isn't as fond of fun prints as I am, so we get plaid, which I'm equally fond of. Of course, now that I've bought all the sheets and tossed them in the washer, I remember where I stowed last year's plaid flannel...But ti's okay. There has never been a case where plaid was overdone.</div>
<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-20629046052474549562016-11-02T06:27:00.000-07:002016-11-02T06:27:01.588-07:00Bread enablersMy friends are enablers.<br />
I've taken up the craft of baking homemade breads - everything from sandwich loaves to artisanal breads. I've just started a month or two ago, and made some quick decisions... no, I am not springing for a $300 mixer so I'm going to have to knead by hand. Yes, I have all the wrong tools, and need the right tools. No, I had no idea the dough whisk and chopper scraper really existed until now. I mean, I knew they existed in a sort of 'oh yeah' kind of way. But then when I was watching a video on how to mix and knead bread, both came into play and I was all like, 'I totally need those two things.' Then I didn't do anything about it, and tried to make my plastic spatula do the job. (Nope.)<br />
<br />So, thanks my enabler friends! My next two attempts will be a baguette (because YUM) and another sandwich bread. Looking for a much bigger surface this time on the sandwich bread.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIaVEsonLONGg5WL_pfs6Y39IA3mled7tzaeajBcMQ_htnmyrMUKaKKNNqceNU7on4J5PTaur6Bwj2k7AIhiZb_FGc26L1txF4uLDuFWnF_HWs7ztzliOCpofbk5sd39Ra7B62A/s1600/IMG_2520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIaVEsonLONGg5WL_pfs6Y39IA3mled7tzaeajBcMQ_htnmyrMUKaKKNNqceNU7on4J5PTaur6Bwj2k7AIhiZb_FGc26L1txF4uLDuFWnF_HWs7ztzliOCpofbk5sd39Ra7B62A/s320/IMG_2520.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guess what I'm doing tonight. And writing, of course. Definitely<br />getting my nanowrimo words in!</td></tr>
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Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-36019825301837059212016-11-01T17:44:00.001-07:002016-11-01T17:44:05.401-07:00NanowrimoI'm hoping to get a rough draft out of this.<br />
<br />
I have the outline for this story.<br />
I have the 'secret' that only I currently know.<br />
<br />
I have the characters. The town. The setting.<br />
<br />
Lets do this!Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-45223200312298202012016-10-30T18:48:00.002-07:002016-10-30T18:54:26.814-07:00A lovely birthday weekend Sunday of blood sausages and corsets<span style="font-size: large;">This is us.</span><br />
I mean, mostly. At the museum today I was viewing some of the Venetian portraits, and the tour guide was talking about how they were interested in the character of a person and not just the likeness. <i>(I wasn't actually on the tour, just eavesdropping) </i> I also read it on one of the little explaining-side-panels. The image I was looking at was this cocky, dark-haired-bed-head beefy dude looking all dude-ish-tough in armor. The Jon Snow of ancient Venice, only one who smiled. I love this picture because it kinda covers not only our individual personalities, but how we relate to each other. My friends will read this blurb, and one will sarcastically ponder it, and half-heartedly consider it, and the other will laugh and think maybe the blood sausage I ate is poisoning my mind. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6D-onphmrEAR_jOTTUYYISQ_8bG9pkIW4opVSTrBkkgOYNWQ1eKhaci0YpDbpA8dJ34kklYUqINE9nUoPJNeSY3AGYwjhvk9ipWttO5luImV4Q5B-8Jq1GbMLxJeSROV1vRzwA/s1600/girls3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6D-onphmrEAR_jOTTUYYISQ_8bG9pkIW4opVSTrBkkgOYNWQ1eKhaci0YpDbpA8dJ34kklYUqINE9nUoPJNeSY3AGYwjhvk9ipWttO5luImV4Q5B-8Jq1GbMLxJeSROV1vRzwA/s400/girls3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One is thinking: I'm stuck with these two. One is thinking "Muahahaha" and one is<br />
thinking "Can I hold this expression any freakin' longer? Take the shot already." I<br />
also have some serious crazy eyebrow going on.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I ate blood sausages!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeKBuYTYxKKg2cAPEu0Y_0d0uDFz9lMCNd1NQpdx9bsrSv0nPeRomoOuXTyPwjre_Bx4IhDjsNmqxDpTD10rIlUdvWBvNYO6h0QYEvYkvC9GHYPJ3cSfEMmM1Oa2jz5f2e7BKEQ/s1600/FullSizeRender+%252815%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeKBuYTYxKKg2cAPEu0Y_0d0uDFz9lMCNd1NQpdx9bsrSv0nPeRomoOuXTyPwjre_Bx4IhDjsNmqxDpTD10rIlUdvWBvNYO6h0QYEvYkvC9GHYPJ3cSfEMmM1Oa2jz5f2e7BKEQ/s320/FullSizeRender+%252815%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Well, I ate a part of a blood sausage. It was disguised on the menu. They didn't call it a blood sausage in English, and it was the only menu item that wasn't described in English. But the waiter explained what it was and what mustard went with it. It's the darkest of the four sausages, and the filler was curry, because blood sausages need a filler in order to be edible. (My friends and I are now experts on blood sausages because after we all tried it, we wikipedia'd it... I really only ate a few bites of the blood sausage. It was one of four from the sausage sampler for I te for lunch, and I am pretty much now not going to eat until Thursday. I couldn't even finish the four sausages. But I can tell you the sausages were local and delicious, and now I want to try more blood sausages to see if there's one that has a filler I like more. We're also as a group, going to find Haggis, and eat it.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Museum trip!</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7UpwD1NECbTwnAYkanCuMFmKdaAboWlkWF9uFeW917Afxi1ZKmfgw-S2KAno1po6UZy2hWJPY6ggmqi_KE6OSBihKJ1HKJIuSqxUR1_UX859hLlNgEslZMJ63t087Y8wiYVyCA/s1600/IMG_1318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7UpwD1NECbTwnAYkanCuMFmKdaAboWlkWF9uFeW917Afxi1ZKmfgw-S2KAno1po6UZy2hWJPY6ggmqi_KE6OSBihKJ1HKJIuSqxUR1_UX859hLlNgEslZMJ63t087Y8wiYVyCA/s400/IMG_1318.JPG" width="300" /></a>This is my friend.<br />
She's been my friend for like, ever.<br />
Okay, like, a very long time. Loong time. Years.<br />
We went to the museum for my birthday.<br />
And played dress-up.<br />
<br />
There was a Masters of Venice exhibition, and we were struck by all the Madonna/child images where the mother figure looked less than pleased with the too-old-to-be-a-baby baby figures. This is my friend reenacting one of those portraits.<br />
<br />
She rocked it.<br />
<br />
We're still slightly confused by the order of dress, but close enough. I only regret she didn't do the neck ruffle.<br />
<br />
Apparently, we found one of the few places you could play with clothes and trinkets... though they were apparently meant for children... who knew?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfg4iQEejULB6t4LhWK1vICy8WEa5SHXRYMbYUhPZwvQLuW_vs8ONbsrI1Fh-LI40Ewx6gNDwoXMsSQ5EzkHH16pcrJkuFpiuYwFffe3JUOaz5RyW0tNmN6PsaPmerbDWoPcEM0g/s1600/IMG_7219+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfg4iQEejULB6t4LhWK1vICy8WEa5SHXRYMbYUhPZwvQLuW_vs8ONbsrI1Fh-LI40Ewx6gNDwoXMsSQ5EzkHH16pcrJkuFpiuYwFffe3JUOaz5RyW0tNmN6PsaPmerbDWoPcEM0g/s400/IMG_7219+%25281%2529.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>
<br />
This is a picture of my other friend. Who I've also known for ages. She tried on the outfit, and completely rocked the neck ruffle. But instead I'm putting this picture of her standing and looking out the window at a view of Denver and beyond. I don't know why I like this one, but I do. It's very her. I mean, the neck ruffle was her, too, so it was a tough call.<br />
<br />
There's pictures of me but they are inappropriate to put online, because it turns out, I can rock a corset and make pictures inappropriate. I could also put one online, but I'm shy about what I look like in photos (ha!).<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">I</span><span style="text-align: center;"> did play with fabric, though, because there was also an exhibit on Japanese fashion from the 1980s and 1990s... There was a great little room on fabrics and yarns and threads... that also featured a lovely knitting group. If I lived closer to the museum, I'd probably hang out there all day, too. As for the Master's of Venice, I know using gold was kind of their thing, but it didn't take long for me to think that their obsessive use of gold in the renaissance was just not something I could appreciate. I know, I know, it was big back in the day. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">November is Nanowrimo.</span> There are a lot of rules. Well, no. There's one rule. Write 50,000 </span>words, and write every day. The Great Gatsby was apparently, only around 50,000 words. We should bring novellas back. I like that length. Anyhow, my personal goal isn't to just write 50,000 words, but it's to get through most of the first draft of my next novel. This means I might have to put revisions on my sci-fi draft off until December, which is okay, since no one is going to want to look at drafts in December anyhow. Also, I've revised the first five chapters, and the last three, mostly, so feel comfortable sending the novel out, knowing it takes weeks to get a response.<br />
<br />
It's going to be a quiet month, November, because I'll be working and then coming home, and shooing everyone away from me so I can write. I'm kinda looking forward to it.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Turning into a recluse!</span><br />
I mean, I'm not, but I really appreciate the quiet time when I'm pretty much left alone. I've got a lot of things to deal with, and I'm mostly an introvert, so the more I have to deal with the more I like to hide out, and the winter is the perfect time to do that. I expect a lot of early-nights in loungewear writing or quilting or coloring or doing some other craftsy thing. Take tonight for example. A big day at lunch (I ate blood sausages! and the museum and it's 7:15 p.m. and i'm wearing plaid pajama pants thinking about how to make a Russian felt hat for my costume for Halloween tomorrow thinking about how I need a day to recover from my fun day.Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-37038296894651234622016-10-28T11:08:00.000-07:002016-10-28T11:08:13.705-07:00Fall leaves are beautiful here, too!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkclrcolaA8BgJRL6TS5z8nU8lPOx_tsFaAnOhs3w1d7xtzukfi1oINaFTRsipNPmsT6IGjFkBU2j6AefPbfv2E-kUvXX2kkULFRMDvIHfVFvXKqqnhOhliJVQwBTyFDAOz5EUBQ/s1600/IMG_2437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkclrcolaA8BgJRL6TS5z8nU8lPOx_tsFaAnOhs3w1d7xtzukfi1oINaFTRsipNPmsT6IGjFkBU2j6AefPbfv2E-kUvXX2kkULFRMDvIHfVFvXKqqnhOhliJVQwBTyFDAOz5EUBQ/s400/IMG_2437.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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This was taken on a walk from one building to another </div>
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today at work. I wish I had my 'better' camera but</div>
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I wasn't expecting to see this :)</div>
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This morning, out the window upstairs, some leaves</div>
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blew by, just like they do in those old Charlie Brown </div>
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television specials and Winnie the Pooh books.</div>
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Winds blowing yellow leaves through the sky.</div>
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These leaves had a slight crunch, not as crisp as they</div>
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will be in a week or so. </div>
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Fall is beautiful here, in Colorado, too, and just colorful</div>
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enough to remind me of all those favorite, beloved fall</div>
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days when I scattered leaves with my sneakers and stomped</div>
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on piles to hear the crisp sound of dry leaves cracking in half.</div>
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Happy Fall!</div>
Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-72465357777627233162016-10-27T20:09:00.004-07:002016-10-27T20:09:58.282-07:00Train!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmnM2wH0kavY8pbVdZVbRd7jDqKeN1XTg-7GSAKjYAKfHD81O4KfwxP8jTmhl4nU-gKTsh9bNZJm43AuB-c7BIRQeZ5ylOXgtrhakqyeIn5p9q-PEEn4uW_lYyUlpegVtTlVOUfg/s1600/IMG_2420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmnM2wH0kavY8pbVdZVbRd7jDqKeN1XTg-7GSAKjYAKfHD81O4KfwxP8jTmhl4nU-gKTsh9bNZJm43AuB-c7BIRQeZ5ylOXgtrhakqyeIn5p9q-PEEn4uW_lYyUlpegVtTlVOUfg/s400/IMG_2420.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This train stopped me from getting home quicker.</div>
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I raced it on the highway, thinking I could make it, but nope.</div>
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So I sat in my truck, watching the train roll by, listening to its horn, </div>
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staring at the red blinking lights on the rail road crossing signs. </div>
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I could have been annoyed. I could have.</div>
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But I remembered all the times my boys would get excited</div>
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every time we were stopped and they could watch a train roll by and </div>
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well, I'm kinda like my boys. I like trains.</div>
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<br /></div>
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....except the ones that roll through, horns blaring at 4:30 a.m.....</div>
Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-7895430866685998972016-10-23T12:01:00.002-07:002016-10-23T12:01:24.571-07:00Happy Birthday to all of usI love this picture.<br />
<br />
I don't know why it's all fuzzy and blurry, I blame the lighting.<br />
<br />
It's Turbo and his Aunt Nikki.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9CGQJOocQn1Gs_zHkemqWcIoyvkxx1K2Fosip5C9mqSNBauVc9SfDXv95NJRAQ8OKjyxi04BAUgtthYqujE83z07-14d7147bhdm69ANjitfU5Kg9-sLoKfwhmNTQ8EuWAHjyw/s1600/IMG_2416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9CGQJOocQn1Gs_zHkemqWcIoyvkxx1K2Fosip5C9mqSNBauVc9SfDXv95NJRAQ8OKjyxi04BAUgtthYqujE83z07-14d7147bhdm69ANjitfU5Kg9-sLoKfwhmNTQ8EuWAHjyw/s400/IMG_2416.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's cold, and I love this blanket. And my aunti..zzzzzz</td></tr>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was the 'everyone's fall birthday bash' which is a brilliant idea. The entire lot of us have birthdays between September and December, from Nikki's husband Code and Nikki, Husbear and myself, Drama Girl, and Turbo and Bear. We are all fall births. September through December. So we all get together sometime in October or so, it's only the second year so it's not fully established, and watch the younger kids open up presents. Okay, and us, too... Nikki gets the best cards. I'm hanging hers up on my 'best cards' wall. Also, I don't get cards, so I'm going to put in a reminder to send them all e-cards.... </div>
<div>
Cards aren't my language of love, right? ummm...</div>
<div>
This photo though, is great, because there's really a deep affection between the boys and their aunt and uncle. They love Code, too, but somehow I don't have a picture of him. What the heck n crap. Anyhow, here is this dark, blurry, super-adorable pic of Turbo and his aunt.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Happy birthday - find me that mug... you know the one....</div>
Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-35129750013918634632016-10-17T20:23:00.001-07:002016-10-17T20:23:41.600-07:00The oct. 17th imagesI am quickly taking a picture just to take a picture because I said I would. It turns out, though, I'm not outside as much as I think I am in October. Even though it's often nice out. Except today. Today was crazy windy and I had to send my boys chasing after the outdoor toy box that got blown away. They don't even use the toy box anymore. Now it just collects spiders.<br />
<br />
This pic isn't a a great one, but it's a great indication of what my nights between now, the season of early sunsets and chillier nights, and spring, the season of endless days and warmth, will consist of.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxo3MznO-UdWIG7k0iHOhgLm5PWJfAgpREQ1HXckKhBBgAU_xjSZ5BBbneluvm5NkRNLom_bwWgB9HXaknBLDPf8HtI6hZFqWLiHHToFKeYxjE6DXAlmt6xgxYR5nwQZTmOyhNg/s1600/IMG_2401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxo3MznO-UdWIG7k0iHOhgLm5PWJfAgpREQ1HXckKhBBgAU_xjSZ5BBbneluvm5NkRNLom_bwWgB9HXaknBLDPf8HtI6hZFqWLiHHToFKeYxjE6DXAlmt6xgxYR5nwQZTmOyhNg/s320/IMG_2401.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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The outfit I will be doing most of my</div>
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writing and revising in this fall and winter.</div>
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Is it winter? It feels like it should be winter.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwk38PoewPPlUmsACfS1B67LU9dGkCB8D2IN8xX4YOO6yBecqZQIn-7Pbvhdxq1aaf95FLn5U5tG73uqUkaUmPGCYyurEU_i-2h2tyKc3YP5XlrdVsO-E0aTDbS8C1yfHbySBbPQ/s1600/IMG_2402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwk38PoewPPlUmsACfS1B67LU9dGkCB8D2IN8xX4YOO6yBecqZQIn-7Pbvhdxq1aaf95FLn5U5tG73uqUkaUmPGCYyurEU_i-2h2tyKc3YP5XlrdVsO-E0aTDbS8C1yfHbySBbPQ/s320/IMG_2402.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The cat that will watch me write, because his perch is </div>
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right next to my computer, at desk level, and he has </div>
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learned that sometimes, oftentimes, too many times,</div>
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writing somehow involves ice cream.</div>
<br />
Also, to make up for the craptastic pictures I just posted (is it the lighting? was there a filter? why is it blurry? do I just have blurry vision now?) here are some random lines from the book I'm revising:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="p1">
“Warning. Warning. Ship functions not fully online” </div>
<div class="p1">
The ship kept repeating this over and over as we flew through the hangar door - still in the process of opening - and straight into space. We rolled and tumbled with the high speed acceleration and would have been tossed about the cabin if we weren’t strapped in. The ship’s gravity wasn't working yet and the ship was spinning out of control. True to Jam’s word, he barfed. I did, as well. My throat burned with the acid left behind. Hennie just closed her eyes and hummed. Figures she wouldn’t barf. Finally, we stopped tumbling and spinning. We were in space and off the OEF ship. Now, we had to flee.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It's not the best passage in the book, but it's one of the passages I need to revise.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Good night all!</div>
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<br /></div>
Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-43227231476347974642016-10-16T17:57:00.001-07:002016-10-16T17:57:22.915-07:00Picture-less SundayI don't have a picture for today.<br />
<br />
Which makes me feel guilty.<br />
<br />
So here.<br />
<br />
My Sunday night attire includes fuzzy slippers. Imagine that.<br />
<br />
After this blog, I'm going to sit down on my couch, prop up my fuzzy slippered feet, and finish Stranger Things on Netflix, which is like, one of the best shows I've seen in a long time.<br />
<br />
I'm completely and fully aware of the election coming up in three weeks, as all of us are. My ballot is being mailed to me on Monday, and sometime Tuesday, Wednesday or so I'll get it, and I'll spend the night filling it out not just for president but for all the other myriad issues and candidates on the ballot. I've got a big, thick voting book and the internet. I'm not just checking boxes.<br />
<br />
But I did say I'm done talking about it on Facebook.<br />
<br />
I don't know if I can go all the way to November not talking about it on Facebook. But I'm going to try.<br />
<br />
I'm obsessed with politics right now. I'm obsessed with the electoral prediction maps. I'm enthralled by what is going on in Utah. I'm terrified of orange-haired clowns. I'm disturbed by the threats and hate calls people who express their opinion are receiving - for instance the Republican newspapers endorsing a Democrat for the first time ever. I'm sick of twitter-rage promising civil war. I can't believe Russia is so invested in our election, as if a Russian dictator thinks he can influence the election - which, btw, should be terrifying.<br />
<br />
So I'll try my best. I'm avoiding the debate because it's an embarrassment for our country to have to watch. I might watch it because we all like disaster movies. I don't know.<br />
<br />
Happy Sunday everyone, we have three weeks to go...Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-76005096003133780062016-10-14T18:27:00.002-07:002016-10-14T18:27:31.080-07:00My Friday Night BoysWell, boy.<br />
<br />
But the other boy is doing the exact same thing.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Zjjtipvhi_gLJBiQWtIw0Cl1mxVYlbNimsxetx1AB5kJXOctxLeLuJei5VekTZ2ohpMrkj6irqkRpDidv21FccFyuQU1dNkNY1H3a0OH6HnaGk3HWe6p-JZ5HvLqijlx-ceLZw/s1600/IMG_2393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Zjjtipvhi_gLJBiQWtIw0Cl1mxVYlbNimsxetx1AB5kJXOctxLeLuJei5VekTZ2ohpMrkj6irqkRpDidv21FccFyuQU1dNkNY1H3a0OH6HnaGk3HWe6p-JZ5HvLqijlx-ceLZw/s400/IMG_2393.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turbo with headset, whatever game, Overwatch maybe, <br />and using my coffeemug which I totally said he couldn't use. <br />Also, that's my waterbottle. WTH kid.<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
They have a four day weekend - no school today and no school Monday.<div>
There is so much joy in their hearts right now.</div>
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I'm not even quite sure why they have the days off, but they don't need babysitters anymore, so I don't really pay attention. It's made my life simpler.</div>
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These boys of mine make me smile. Except when they don't do laundry. Or clean their room. Or say annoying things when you're out getting them their favorite pizza and throwing in horrible-for-you pretzel bites filled with cheese and bacon they're like 'Mom can we hurry I'm sick of being here.' </div>
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Mostly, they make me smile.</div>
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Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-36272780588768318882016-10-13T17:38:00.002-07:002016-10-13T17:38:18.047-07:00Hello Fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It's nice to see you around for this short while</div>
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before a strong wind comes, and knocks the color</div>
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off your branches or maybe a big rain storm will</div>
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will cancel your parade of colors.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOLK2bl-WP3DOdH3b9arxmGSibII5GqCORnk-TyLHSXyLvOmIjxSqQTP5lpBRpsgmcsL16Qfs8lkAsRUOAQRbLXp76GNGZ29qRXUFuwMLqxhXV037z17snMUM_wUH_rYRS1VHmg/s1600/IMG_2367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOLK2bl-WP3DOdH3b9arxmGSibII5GqCORnk-TyLHSXyLvOmIjxSqQTP5lpBRpsgmcsL16Qfs8lkAsRUOAQRbLXp76GNGZ29qRXUFuwMLqxhXV037z17snMUM_wUH_rYRS1VHmg/s400/IMG_2367.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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The light wasn't great. This is fall at later dusk.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi85L1T4brumsXQ1QNCS3qALOs_ia5ZeubUmO51lQSwNqRiRiu7MLpBmiNiMEuZrD2wHK5lxZooCWm5b7unhhCeHp2QKJaUlBdWDggxPJzm79V8do_nc-tq79G3j3QUA2PokrAy7A/s1600/IMG_2368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi85L1T4brumsXQ1QNCS3qALOs_ia5ZeubUmO51lQSwNqRiRiu7MLpBmiNiMEuZrD2wHK5lxZooCWm5b7unhhCeHp2QKJaUlBdWDggxPJzm79V8do_nc-tq79G3j3QUA2PokrAy7A/s400/IMG_2368.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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You can see the bright of the yellow where the light</div>
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of a dusky sun is peeking through. Dusky sun. It's</div>
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not even a thing. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxupj2_wQITNy1sCsYoG5NAx_ypaug4KQwGgv3ca2_V99_cT6cAUvZHs-sA6c2fiY5hE5wp5d8oR7cuEqxp7BcTZircWzobkNK4Sb-aBRYWCZ5rurHcbUcMPeyZckxupr8ea3JKw/s1600/IMG_2369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxupj2_wQITNy1sCsYoG5NAx_ypaug4KQwGgv3ca2_V99_cT6cAUvZHs-sA6c2fiY5hE5wp5d8oR7cuEqxp7BcTZircWzobkNK4Sb-aBRYWCZ5rurHcbUcMPeyZckxupr8ea3JKw/s400/IMG_2369.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Getting darker.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV2h2mpsB3732mGtI23W1uXV7klaWGb6PV3aHnLN24XCTGJ2Gr7sLnYhxuKtw1Wu2UEowvpht_JJZU2I5qWR8KRCFPgJQAyTa-RDMBj3R_ET5VNm4lyHln-DZzS-lM0NdUAbuBPg/s1600/IMG_2371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV2h2mpsB3732mGtI23W1uXV7klaWGb6PV3aHnLN24XCTGJ2Gr7sLnYhxuKtw1Wu2UEowvpht_JJZU2I5qWR8KRCFPgJQAyTa-RDMBj3R_ET5VNm4lyHln-DZzS-lM0NdUAbuBPg/s400/IMG_2371.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like the yellow against the dark bark. </td></tr>
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<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-3001992014914953882016-10-12T06:13:00.000-07:002016-10-12T06:15:41.089-07:00Wednesday, Oct. 12 - blurry boy caught not being blurry!I didn't take a picture yesterday afternoon. I looked at all the leaves on the trees changing colors, and thought how beautiful they were, but didn't snap a picture. Doh!<br />
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This morning, though, I did.<br />
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Remember the blur, from the last post?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwvBqUAOuK5n-qROciYqXXWiLbAqQj5y2w2QOodcYdXBDpr5G4aZJEQc6WSeFgJ3YbN5FeI5yydbcGxgBFzC5Gh0sQy4TRV5MqTab1fgBnYMT1WFf3w608aWNMW1Ovoa9p3g_T3w/s1600/IMG_2351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwvBqUAOuK5n-qROciYqXXWiLbAqQj5y2w2QOodcYdXBDpr5G4aZJEQc6WSeFgJ3YbN5FeI5yydbcGxgBFzC5Gh0sQy4TRV5MqTab1fgBnYMT1WFf3w608aWNMW1Ovoa9p3g_T3w/s400/IMG_2351.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No! Don't look away!</td></tr>
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He's a blur today to.<br />
'Are you trying to take my picture?'<br />
'What, who, me? No.'<br />
He sees the phone.<br />
'Really?'<br />
<br />
'oh COME ON kid. It's my project. I just want to take a picture a day this month.'<br />
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'um you want to take a picture every day of me?' he says in a voice that indicates his concern for my level of affection, and reinforces his belief that maybe I really am turning into 'that creepy mom' he keeps telling me about, in hopes by discussing his fears, it won't come true.<br />
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'NO. I want a different picture every day of different things. Lots of things. Trees and stuff. But just one of you, occasionally. Okay? Just one?"<br />
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"Okay.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1qYmKraX5j9TS4_0yoVLovIbvu44kBYZBHbuTcKw91md_4NWiu9dG9mIjQsla4X1Lpz1KtYddknfZ7_P898EklRZHKk-6dXME-DoT8eh6ibhXOnwbNYnFtUETt9EI8jFudH-wA/s1600/IMG_2352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1qYmKraX5j9TS4_0yoVLovIbvu44kBYZBHbuTcKw91md_4NWiu9dG9mIjQsla4X1Lpz1KtYddknfZ7_P898EklRZHKk-6dXME-DoT8eh6ibhXOnwbNYnFtUETt9EI8jFudH-wA/s400/IMG_2352.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maybe he's just blurry in life, too.</td></tr>
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"Um, dude, what are you doing?'<br />
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"You're making me laugh."<br />
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"Can't I have a smile?"<br />
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"No."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGd7hZgeCV9zxFNcxQDhnVzyYl2mBwlIIfVwIa4F1t3hFixEfoN69B8aji1dnGTpOvRnil3vP-2f6qiFYQMZeCkFsLHN0PFotFOgfnyeggkBC1MVjnNfjjNwxR9ApqSXBAizI36Q/s1600/IMG_2353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGd7hZgeCV9zxFNcxQDhnVzyYl2mBwlIIfVwIa4F1t3hFixEfoN69B8aji1dnGTpOvRnil3vP-2f6qiFYQMZeCkFsLHN0PFotFOgfnyeggkBC1MVjnNfjjNwxR9ApqSXBAizI36Q/s400/IMG_2353.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
"Okay. There. Why can't you smile?"<br />
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"Every time you make your eyes do that thing it makes me laugh and when I laugh I turn away."<br />
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"I was trying to get you to smile. Why can't you smile?"<br />
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"It makes me turn away."<br />
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"Yes, you're very skilled at being blurry in photos."<br />
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Fine, alright, go to school blurry man.Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-40454910006189037412016-10-10T11:50:00.001-07:002016-10-10T11:54:45.610-07:00This morning's photoThis is a cute photo.<br />
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<img alt="Displaying IMG_2345.JPG" height="300" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=889ce9c380&view=fimg&th=157ae9a3bc7c6181&attid=0.1&disp=inline&safe=1&attbid=ANGjdJ_xJ5ApvJCELUsHHi7MD1HL7wQaGVIB8PVWLeKy5DxZX9oKb0Axm6SXZxeGkM6Wi2jR5HLYH_iiNFerMAidPF4TvQoDXBfv1Nf5wVIV8VM1wd-6ddn84hIhLV8&ats=1476124953660&rm=157ae9a3bc7c6181&zw&sz=w1348-h583" width="400" /><br />
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It was taken this morning when I ran out of milk for coffee and had no creamer.<br />
I used whipped cream. So that white foam in the green cup is my creamer :)<br />
The boys' heard that sound of upcoming yumminess, and ran over to where I was, snagging bits of whipped cream off the top of my cup right before they left for school.<br />
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One of my favorite times of day is this morning time, between 6:20 and 6:45, when the boys and I are the only ones up, and we're in that in-between time, where they are all ready for school and downstairs scrounging for food and I'm drinking coffee before I get ready for work. It's about 20 minutes of stress-free time for the three of us, and it's our time. We talk about nothing and everything, but not about school or work or chores because there's a full day of that ahead. It's morning. The beginning of the day, and there's no need to do anything other than enjoy the 20 minutes before that beginning.<br />
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I grabbed a quick pick. Turbo is in the hoodie, Bear is the blur, because Bear's superpower is running from ever having me take his picture... I was not stealthy enough. He doesn't mind having his picture taken. Just when it's taken by me.<br />
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That's my Monday photo!<br />
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<br />Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-55420746156430040422016-10-09T15:02:00.002-07:002016-10-09T15:03:37.313-07:00Picture catch-up!I said I'd take a picture a day every day this month and post it, because it's my favorite month, but I didn't post any this week.<br />
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I did take them, though!<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Tuesday, Oct. 4th's image:</span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCmZqTaVNYQssr5xd0npOq9YvOguyYbnuZZleE0fAwSQmtXBGY8CPnDt4ya_TThQkZul5dpM7Llrm7XmH5sHcO9L9tt-sqQkott9ej2OoqCsF7mZVhHI4gQ7VGU4FKpT7qt1ocw/s1600/IMG_2322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCmZqTaVNYQssr5xd0npOq9YvOguyYbnuZZleE0fAwSQmtXBGY8CPnDt4ya_TThQkZul5dpM7Llrm7XmH5sHcO9L9tt-sqQkott9ej2OoqCsF7mZVhHI4gQ7VGU4FKpT7qt1ocw/s400/IMG_2322.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghoul eyeball cupcakes!</td></tr>
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Tuesday, I came home to my sons carving the pumpkins I was trying to get the energy up to be excited about! I was happy (yay, I didn't have it in me) and bummed (wtheck-n-crap they don't need me to carve pumpkins anymore?) So I made ghoul eyeball cupcakes.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Wednesday, Oct. 5th's image:</span></b></div>
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I wasn't feeling Wednesday. Not at all. It was a chilly day. I was up late the night before watching the final season of Game of Thrones. It was a rough day at the office, as in, I got to the office and was having a rough time just starting... and I needed a morning coffee. The Starbucks line was just too long so I strolled into this little Tea and Cakes shop and it made my morning.<br />
I also got a breakfast burrito which has nothing to do with either Tea or Cakes, but was fairly delicious.<br />
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<b>Thursday, Oct. 6th's image:</b><br />
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GASP. I forgot! But here, have a nice image of our Halloween-themed table!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0B31yVtFew211AP30QjKN-drxg3DO_eAIGkmAY0S7zuVbxBZCGGTzvraEp5XzZ_m8TharPipE4NECCwVy9xWA-EdilH5R_D1lZzkdOHd5JcfrsqpduS4TS8oGuLzzIOXKv8tpQ/s1600/IMG_2338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0B31yVtFew211AP30QjKN-drxg3DO_eAIGkmAY0S7zuVbxBZCGGTzvraEp5XzZ_m8TharPipE4NECCwVy9xWA-EdilH5R_D1lZzkdOHd5JcfrsqpduS4TS8oGuLzzIOXKv8tpQ/s400/IMG_2338.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll have you know, that is a bowl of fresh roasted pumpkin seeds, done by yours truly!</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Friday, Oct. 7th's image:</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_YRE4Go7ATd_RmSUNE6jBM4B2FiFjCzTLxvLlQ_qvwgDBXdOC3ZQlTy12sZzOTKylfHv-cbSeYrj0ILR7q7DKopZ80Usipkj6wqpT65Rz220a_zZEgo2lGsGSb3rG71xn_d_LA/s1600/IMG_2329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_YRE4Go7ATd_RmSUNE6jBM4B2FiFjCzTLxvLlQ_qvwgDBXdOC3ZQlTy12sZzOTKylfHv-cbSeYrj0ILR7q7DKopZ80Usipkj6wqpT65Rz220a_zZEgo2lGsGSb3rG71xn_d_LA/s400/IMG_2329.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I've already tweeted this image out. It's a cup of pumpkin spice outside of Ozo coffee in our new sort of hang out mall-esque area. We'd gone out for a date night and had burgers and then decided to kill time before the movie sipping lattes in front of the fire pit. I didn't want to do a selfie or anything. In the time we sat there, our friends crashed our date night and hung out with us, which was a lot of fun, and we saw another friend of mine wandering by. It was a nice, cool night and perfect. Then we saw the Magnificent Seven, because Husbear and I both love Westerns.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Saturday, Oct. 8th's image:</b></span></div>
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Happy birthday Husbear! </div>
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We made his favorite dinner: Bibimbap. Then watched a movie, which wasn't super great, but Bear and Husbear liked it. Turbo isn't really into movies unless they are super interesting. Like, Pacific Rim... (/cry)</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwoTpgESCzegH3IzgguTG1jujBcvbMsHCHIw4KTVSB0NW8EWD-Llvbs0mrOwXOP8YSvdWzkf4hyphenhyphenMu6SaXy2tXk4A-T1a5goevPWKYK33ZXxdwf4rBiuMnAoNCcrv3uuaNcLwYoQ/s1600/IMG_2342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwoTpgESCzegH3IzgguTG1jujBcvbMsHCHIw4KTVSB0NW8EWD-Llvbs0mrOwXOP8YSvdWzkf4hyphenhyphenMu6SaXy2tXk4A-T1a5goevPWKYK33ZXxdwf4rBiuMnAoNCcrv3uuaNcLwYoQ/s400/IMG_2342.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marinated flank steak. Cucumbers in red tangy sauce. Tang sauce. Sauteed carrots<br />
and spinach. Bean sprouts (mmm). Rice. And there's kimchee, too. Mmmm.</td></tr>
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This is one of our favorite dinners, though, and the only reason we make it infrequently is because of the many different side dishes and components that go into making it. </div>
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There aren't a lot of people in these images, but they are a great representation of my week this week, so there's that! Next week I'll try for actual people. Maybe. No promises!<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">And finally, today's image:</span></b><br />
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Everyone is dabbing. Even the dead.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkIupYx4fZw-FT6ZwOng9xOYAV11c8agq4UyT5DoiaFolbX1JdcqbJTXb3nCd0kRlRu7DH5tJsKQhLl03qPvyttigVinxVGrndRixM_LtosAEJ0-i7GFDzw36UfdxsN6qUVJWhg/s1600/IMG_2343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkIupYx4fZw-FT6ZwOng9xOYAV11c8agq4UyT5DoiaFolbX1JdcqbJTXb3nCd0kRlRu7DH5tJsKQhLl03qPvyttigVinxVGrndRixM_LtosAEJ0-i7GFDzw36UfdxsN6qUVJWhg/s400/IMG_2343.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
And if you don't know what dabbing is, look it up. Also, it means I'm waaay cooler than you. Because I know what it is. And our purple tattered skeleton friend here knows what it means too. </div>
Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11337667.post-55525104963497144702016-10-04T10:58:00.001-07:002016-10-04T10:58:29.750-07:00Yesterday's post!I said I'd do a daily photo to celebrate my favorite month, and didn't post one yesteday!<br />
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Doh!<br />
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I meant every day-ish...<br />
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But here is yesterday's photo, taken yesterday, but posted today...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uZx2TihkjJ7fCwaycKl_IhceX9hYUq38_0n-YDH6-sFmTa2MX_aSk5fxqIk6UuGtkbLoCDxXB6dMPmNCsfONIzTbIkP6FGVZLs6E-f5G0ySvZ6LxqOV_eIf58UDfL_QTmhKi_g/s1600/IMG_2316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uZx2TihkjJ7fCwaycKl_IhceX9hYUq38_0n-YDH6-sFmTa2MX_aSk5fxqIk6UuGtkbLoCDxXB6dMPmNCsfONIzTbIkP6FGVZLs6E-f5G0ySvZ6LxqOV_eIf58UDfL_QTmhKi_g/s400/IMG_2316.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Ahh, my mini-Yorick, I knew thee not at all.</div>
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But you are a great addition to our Halloween</div>
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themed kitchen table decor. </div>
Lahdeedahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08310770349703287189noreply@blogger.com0