tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-276058102024-03-13T19:44:25.717-07:00Just give me a Minute . . .This blog is my minute to spend as I want to . . . it's personal time.Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.comBlogger575125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-71408596951243924682017-04-12T14:42:00.001-07:002017-04-12T14:42:05.642-07:00Break FastSo. We have company over spring break.<br />
One thing I've learned is that you fast to fit your life, so I don't want to fast while company is here. However, I've learned I like the way I feel when I am fasting. I don't like how I feel when I'm not. My stomach hurts after I eat. And I go right off ketosis.<br />
After eating yesterday my morning ketone were 0.1. So I'm fasting today- even with company. As much as possible without being inhospitable.<br />
My mouth likes food, not my body.<br />
<br />Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-32807273528595250122017-04-07T22:21:00.001-07:002017-04-07T22:21:42.665-07:00Fasting day 2Morning ketones1.6<br />
Blood sugars 90<br />
Did it today! Just had coffee, and bone broth in the morning for my crampy shins (with Himalayan salt for electrolights) and my jug of water with another pinch of salt and leemos juice (for heartburn). Although at lunch I did have a cup of peppermint green tea. I didn't finish my water, and left my jug at the theatre where the kids had their performanc. My safari cake roll sold out! And I didn't take a treat at all!<br />
<br />
Now- my blood sugars are 89, and my ketones are 2.6. That's great! And my weight -3.<br />
Yay!<br />
Ready to do tomorrow!Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-90036418521465461022017-04-06T07:32:00.001-07:002017-04-06T21:48:12.377-07:00Fasting day 3, . . er, I mean 1, againBlood sugar 98 (wow!)<br />
Ketons 1.3<br />
Not a bad way to start the morning!<br />
Weight still -2<br />
Super busy day.<br />
<br />
I didn't get all my water drunk. Had a cup of coffee in the morning, and then that's it. I got real hungry bout 1:30 but rode that wave until it was gone.<br />
<br />
When I got home today, I finished putting cream cheese frosting on the carrot cake cupcakes I made yesterday. Got some frosting on my hand, so I licked it off. Using lemon water for heart burn. And I am cold. But today is a rainy cold day. I don't seem able to get warm.<br />
<br />
At bed time my blood sugar is 89, and my ketones 1.5. Officially in ketosis. So, I'm burning my fat for energy! That's enough to keep me going another day!Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-21637936176904369402017-04-05T22:06:00.000-07:002017-04-05T22:06:18.277-07:00Fast, day 2Well. I stayed up until 1:40 putting script lines into an app for my boy. Then my husband woke me about 6. I don't do well with little sleep.<br />
And there is extraordinary stress being layed on us.<br />
Anyway - this morning I was down 2 lbs.<br />
My blood sugar was 90, my ketones 2.2<br />
<br />
I did well with just coffee, bone broth, and water. But was bone tired and weak. Sluggish.<br />
The idea that I would be attempting to bake cake rolls while fasting felt impossible. Then my husband announced he would make baby back ribs.<br />
<br />
So I decided to break my fast. I licked the spoon, I took bites of batter. I have like 2-3 tablespoons of peanut butter with butter, 2 baby back ribs and I think that is it. So I ate. But I will do it guilt free because I know that I will go back on the fast starting tomorrow.<br />
<br />
One of the most important things I've learned is that fasting has got to fit in your life, not your life to your fast. And we can indulge in those life moments (like me creating baked goods) knowing that we will do a healthy fast afterwards.<br />
<br />
I'll start again on my fast tomorrow.<br />
<br />
I didn't step on the scale. I'll do that in the morning. My evening blood sugar is 105, and my ketones have dropped to a mere 0.6<br />
<br />
Here's to getting back on track tomorrow.<br />
<br />Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-8966063888979955992017-04-04T16:48:00.001-07:002017-04-04T22:40:11.730-07:00Fasting Day 1today waking blood test was 108. A bit high for "normal" but good for a diabetic. Weight, for our starting day we will call "0".<br />
<br />
Had black coffee and took my meds. Grabbed my water and went. Today was stressful and full, so I've been bugged with the desire to put stuff in my mouth all day.<br />
<br />
And have been having heartburn. So I've been popping tums, which probably doens't help my craving because of the trace amounts of sugar in them. I've heard lemon water helps with heartburn, so I'll use that next time.<br />
<br />
At lunch Alex was eating Milk Duds and I took one off him. But other than that, I had some peprment tea and have been good.<br />
<br />
Now at 4:45, I have cravings again. Almost done with my water. Might make some tea when I get home. We'll see.<br />
<br />
Oh, and had one more cup of black coffee at lunch. Then another at night.<br />
We've got a lot of stress going on. Just found out my boy in a play got promoted to a lead role that he has 3 days to learn the lines, song and blocking. Science Fair tomorrow, and just a lot going on.<br />
<br />
Bedtime weight was unchanged. Blood sugars 64 (wow!) and Ketones where 2.2. You are considered in ketosis at 1.5 and higher. This is prime fat burning mode. Woo Hoo!<br />
<br />
Ok. Good night. :-)Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-72334848754336662372017-04-03T21:54:00.002-07:002017-04-03T21:54:49.382-07:00FastingOk, so let see.<br />
Since I've written last.<br />
<br />
I've been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. <br />
Then found out about the Ketogenic diet. Lost close to 40 lbs on it.<br />
<br />
And then went and got my teaching certificate. Got a job at my kid's charter school as a personalized learning instructor/teacher, and am as happy as a clam.<br />
<br />
Now, I've come across a book called "The Complete Guide to Fasting" that spins off the ketogenic diet and tomorrow I'm going to start an extended day fast. My goal is to go to Saturday. So, with Tuesday, that would be a 4 day fast.<br />
<br />
A friend of mine wanted to know about it.<br />
<br />
I will be mostly water. Maybe add salt and/or lemon. Have tea when wanted/needed, and coffee with nothing added. And if needed, bone broth, if I start to feel desperate. But I will avoid it, as much as possible.<br />
<br />
I will continue to take my diabetic medicine, as Keto and Cholesterol all improve with the decrease of insulin. But will monitor my blood sugars so that they don't swing too low.<br />
<br />
Ok. That's my plan. I think Thursday might be hard because I have plans to make some cake rolls for the concession stand of my kid's community kid's program of Lion King Jr. But I believe I should be able to muscle through.<br />
<br />
Alright?Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-24287263643455459982017-02-19T17:35:00.002-08:002017-02-19T17:35:35.825-08:00The Day The Dog Refuse The SausageMission runs. My husband goes with a volunteer or a couple, into our "big city" 45 min from our small town, picks up the day-old from some stores there and bring it back to our town and take it to a distribution center to be given away. He usually brings home a few things for us from that. It is often a case of the Good, the Bad and the Ugly.<br />
<br />
This time, it was tofu sausage.<br />
<br />
Tofu sausage that my husband dutifully cooked up.<br />
Unfortunately for the tofu, the cooked sausage didn't pass my husband's taste test. so he gave the whole portion to our chihuahua mix, Toby.<br />
<br />
Toby's favorite treat is chicken franks, but he get excited for any meaty thing.<br />
<br />
I didn't learn about the tofu sausage until I came home and saw the very artificial looking links on Toby's food dish.<br />
<br />
Where they stayed for days.<br />
<br />
And days.<br />
<br />
Not. Even. The. Dog.<br />
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Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-59431103308066074042013-09-02T17:20:00.003-07:002015-03-13T20:40:05.423-07:00Happy Menarche!I have *one* daughter.<br />
I like parties.<br />
I believe in celebrating the milestones -<br />
<br />
That can only leave one obvious outcome . . . .<br />
<br />
Drumroll please . . .<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">A MENARCHE PARTY!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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A menarche is a girls first period. And where I was thinking something with lots of chocolate and a small selection of her female friends . .<br />
Nevertheless, when doing research and asking questions I found some interesting ideas - and some that I'm NOT going to do . . .</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Like the uterine </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; font-size: 24px;">pi<span class="hsb"></span>ña<span class="hsb"></span>ta</span><span class="Apple-style-span">: </span></span></div>
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Although - this could be kinda fun . . make the uterus feel a bit of the pain you do . . . yeah. Where is that stick again? Oh - and as pull string pi<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville;">ñ</span><span class="Apple-style-span">ata then<span class="Apple-style-span"> at the other end of the string could be a TAMPON? . . . HAHAHA! Ok. no.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWqThnSpQa8gg8O-ogWF5VABuhovUiy5z5Aanz7IHYszMu_Oex1YeNso4T86BTWlKchwqiemaKvaCmp_CRZzYuuEpI6-DfeAR6_McpozqEQ70jUaVfT-M5AjKQmkKNWH6nmULV8A/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWqThnSpQa8gg8O-ogWF5VABuhovUiy5z5Aanz7IHYszMu_Oex1YeNso4T86BTWlKchwqiemaKvaCmp_CRZzYuuEpI6-DfeAR6_McpozqEQ70jUaVfT-M5AjKQmkKNWH6nmULV8A/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>
</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> And this little snuggly.</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Ub-NC-YkBTNiBJe6Afyl22HccTZe039PfV-qGvM2zYSLjPpfUwLAvxsGLsPZ0rdaOnr6Dymf4ZMrct3tg59xglDkAv71UCX57oml58VQAOa3xR-4nGFv_vzQb9HGjAfD6nYIPg/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Ub-NC-YkBTNiBJe6Afyl22HccTZe039PfV-qGvM2zYSLjPpfUwLAvxsGLsPZ0rdaOnr6Dymf4ZMrct3tg59xglDkAv71UCX57oml58VQAOa3xR-4nGFv_vzQb9HGjAfD6nYIPg/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
It's cute - just not what I'd want to get all snuggly with. But that may just be me.<br />
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And then for cake? I don't care to eat a uterus . . . blah.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7H6xmbpTWFzJ6pYxSMDhj9Vgqvm9Aqlf89bym77CnwLkTqzn58H8UCULd3UX4K1Y34ciSUnrNypQHdBiXVLTJEn4H9IRMkzbRqvLatvUl0WZEJ9GNl5vxhIDM_YBKvECqwSumBQ/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7H6xmbpTWFzJ6pYxSMDhj9Vgqvm9Aqlf89bym77CnwLkTqzn58H8UCULd3UX4K1Y34ciSUnrNypQHdBiXVLTJEn4H9IRMkzbRqvLatvUl0WZEJ9GNl5vxhIDM_YBKvECqwSumBQ/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
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</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">This - on the other hand - just made me laugh. Pin the ovaries on the uterus game . . . .Oh My!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSsqGJpUpPspbbKIWQFu1dxp3mkhNpitz2NJoTMbRjQvfuMjTdQCBXY5ufjuHXzhhiHU00eOhsCpvcoTpicIA3HD4mM3iUXNqnSFrOE-nsBWdX29JCGm5UnIvEZNiKkidbGJhoQ/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSsqGJpUpPspbbKIWQFu1dxp3mkhNpitz2NJoTMbRjQvfuMjTdQCBXY5ufjuHXzhhiHU00eOhsCpvcoTpicIA3HD4mM3iUXNqnSFrOE-nsBWdX29JCGm5UnIvEZNiKkidbGJhoQ/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
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A tiara? </div>
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Yes. </div>
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Roses? </div>
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Probably </div>
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Red dress? </div>
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If she was up for it. </div>
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Sash declaring her Miss Menstruation? </div>
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NO</div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJCLFywnRUU0LxqBuSjULyIScZbUJksTJToL8EUgz9fZWYOZHzXraSn4JNwVl6akUoY01RGWX6JgYWH_W2c_BldbRqmBaDSDUtmRcpqfkzwk_mAx-mwWInNqRn9-HaJo-H7IzCg/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJCLFywnRUU0LxqBuSjULyIScZbUJksTJToL8EUgz9fZWYOZHzXraSn4JNwVl6akUoY01RGWX6JgYWH_W2c_BldbRqmBaDSDUtmRcpqfkzwk_mAx-mwWInNqRn9-HaJo-H7IzCg/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
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Maybe you've got some other ideas?</div>
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Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-62111875027301804062013-08-23T14:44:00.000-07:002013-08-23T18:25:24.801-07:00The Poop Smear EndeverHow we end up with poop smears . . . *shake head*<br />
<br />
We are well beyond the diaper and exploratory poop days. You mothers know what I'm talking about.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, in my house we have a mystery poop smear-er. <br />
No one admits to it - although I have my suspects.<br />
<br />
Lately the kids have been using <i>my</i> bathroom when they have a perfectly nice, mostly clean, bathroom of their own. And today I saw a SMEAR! Oh! the indignities! right on the back of my rim! Still, it was in such a place that you could, with just a little care - do your business and leave it there. <br />
<br />
Because of course since it isn't MY smear - the mystery smear person should take responsibility . . . yada yada yada . . .<br />
<br />
Come now to the book I'm reading, <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Year-Biblical-Womanhood-Liberated-Covering/dp/1595553673/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1377294341&sr=1-1&keywords=a+year+of+biblical+womanhood" target="_blank">A Year of Biblical Womanhood</a>.</u> In chapter 4 author Rachel Evans grapples with the Proverbs 31 woman of the Bible. At first it was an overwhelming task list that she was completely failing at . . .until she talked to a Jewess - who told her that Proverbs 31 isn't a to do list but a blessing . . . A spoken blessing to <i>speak </i>to ladies.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I looked into this, and sure enough, in Jewish culture it is not the women who memorize Proverbs 31, but the men. Husbands commit each line of the poem to memory, so they can recite it to their wives at the Sabbath meal, usually in a song.". . . </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
""It's like their version of 'You go, girl!" I explained to Dan [her husband] at the dinner table that night, . . ."" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
" . . . the woman described in Proverbs 31 is not some ideal that exists out there; she is present in each one of us when we do even the smallest things with valor." </blockquote>
What a difference that puts on Proverbs 31, eh?! But it certainly resonated with me . . . especially the "even the smallest things" . . . cause the smallest things are what keep me going at all!<br />
<br />
My husband is of the old school (as was my Grandmother, so I hear) of the "If you can't do something right, don't do it at all." Where as I have a magnet on my fridge that says "If you can't do something right, AT LEAST DO SOMETHING!" . . . hehe. Love it.<br />
<br />
This blessing "e<i>shet chayil" - </i>literally 'woman of valor' - is a blessing that <a href="http://putdowntheurinalcake.com/about/" target="_blank">this gal</a> pours over us mamas all the time! And if you are a mom, you <i>need</i> to be reading her <a href="http://putdowntheurinalcake.com/" target="_blank">blog</a> or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Five-Kids-Is-A-Lot-Of-Kids-Beth-Woolsey/213868871964185?ref=br_tf" target="_blank">facebook </a>or whatever because she is <a href="http://putdowntheurinalcake.com/2013/05/on-being-a-mombie-and-cutting-ourselves-some-slack/" target="_blank">funny</a>, and<a href="http://putdowntheurinalcake.com/2011/12/the-five-kids-guide-to-home-organization/" target="_blank"> real</a>, and <a href="http://putdowntheurinalcake.com/2013/05/20-things-every-parent-should-hear/" target="_blank">encouraging</a> and she will tell you you are a superhero and <a href="http://putdowntheurinalcake.com/2013/07/the-evolution-of-my-cape/" target="_blank">keep your cape on </a>cause we have <i>one more poop smear to wipe up </i>and if that poop smear gets on your tattered cape you are all that much more awesome for it.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to later today - and I visit my bathroom. The smear is STILL THERE. And I know my hubby has used the commode, not to mention the other kids . . . *sigh* and now the smear is probably hard and crusty . . .<br />
<br />
Yes. I know. I did ignore it - probably first. I did set up precedence . . . but I was hoping . . .<br />
<br />
No magic happened in our house today. So I gather my mama cape and got out the cleaning agent and a handful of toilet paper and took care of that smear. And Felt <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Victorious! </span>Woman of Valor! Because even the smallest things count.<br />
<br />
<b>Every</b> small thing counts.<br />
<br />
I didn't take a picture to accompany this post, cause there was a little cache of suspicious yellow looking stuff pooled on the back of the commode with some random hair and fuzz which I left for another day.<br />
<br />
Another act of VALOR!<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i> Eshet chayil!</i></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-82898531167526455632013-06-09T04:58:00.002-07:002013-06-09T04:58:32.695-07:00Way way way to early I don't know how my friend does this, but she can wake - DOES wake up like 4 or 5 am *naturally* every day.<br />
<br />
Hmmmm<br />
<br />
Not me.<br />
<br />
But since I woke about 3:30 today and battled going to sleep until about 4am - I'd thought I'd start my day. Because after all - SHE was awake - right?<br />
<br />
She had already started her day - mayhaps I should try it, eh?<br />
<br />
<i>Pues</i> - no.<br />
<br />
Not for me, thankyouverymuch. <br />
<br />
I'm ready to go <i>back </i>to bed.<br />
<br />
<br />Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-19681705407649093102013-04-06T14:03:00.003-07:002015-03-13T20:49:53.866-07:00Beautiful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-57334560063892429442012-09-29T22:07:00.003-07:002012-09-29T22:10:58.399-07:00In the name of education.We have a rule.<br />
<br />
On Sundays we only watch things that are God honoring or Educational.<br />
<br />
Tonight though - we watch 300. My husband loves epic battles. <br />
<br />
So, I sit with the remote, finger at the ready to skip scenes.<br />
<br />
There are kids running around here, after all. <br />
<br />
I mention to my boy that the king Xerxes here is the king that Esther married from the Bible. He gets excited and asks "So, this movie is 1% true?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">"Well, I'd call it more like 80% true with 20% guesswork and Hollywood!" I go on to explain King Xerxes was real, King Leonidas,</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> the Spartans, this battle, the odds, etc . . .</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlf3u3zLhmOdN1p9epANsvpMivdAe2ma1fEDydf2wGCBecUduZrdumMVenUE6G-yWYvlURtveM4QfMSKevASEylJVLvjYjqqg1YaFjrU4z19NkZ7Vkm1K0i7xsJSNBq4mgfte_g/s1600/Photo+on+2011-08-31+at+08.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlf3u3zLhmOdN1p9epANsvpMivdAe2ma1fEDydf2wGCBecUduZrdumMVenUE6G-yWYvlURtveM4QfMSKevASEylJVLvjYjqqg1YaFjrU4z19NkZ7Vkm1K0i7xsJSNBq4mgfte_g/s320/Photo+on+2011-08-31+at+08.07.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"OH! So this is educational! So we can watch 300 on SUNDAY!"<br />
<br />
Hardly - my boy, but nice try.<br />
<br />Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-57649551693483023142011-09-14T20:31:00.000-07:002011-09-14T20:31:47.111-07:00I am an artificial friend.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOtwpTZfwW4I-Zz_ForzQwwBP_B28NMnuCRzUqRmHByffWFqGeg6E9SzVs546Z-9deLWZP_-cYHf-TOGcL3sPLZgQC9rMBDDeG0QsjeVZ6jpYb5Kc2pS86yzReEZ7oR8r68HIJ2Q/s1600/300334_268027183217826_186673781353167_985501_96843879_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOtwpTZfwW4I-Zz_ForzQwwBP_B28NMnuCRzUqRmHByffWFqGeg6E9SzVs546Z-9deLWZP_-cYHf-TOGcL3sPLZgQC9rMBDDeG0QsjeVZ6jpYb5Kc2pS86yzReEZ7oR8r68HIJ2Q/s320/300334_268027183217826_186673781353167_985501_96843879_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic',AppleGothic,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/category/plank-pullin/" style="color: #d4431e; text-decoration: underline;">Plank Pulling</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic',AppleGothic,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic',AppleGothic,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">is a little thing we do every Thursday around here. The one day a week that we strongly resolve to ignore the multitude of specks and sawdust around us and pull one bona fide plank from our own eye. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic',AppleGothic,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%207:3-5&version=NIV" style="color: #d4431e; text-decoration: none;">Matthew 7:3-5</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic',AppleGothic,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic',AppleGothic,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">style. It’s intimidating and it’s embarrassing and it’s humbling and it’s therapeutic all rolled into one.</span><br />
<br />
I'm kinda amazed at my group of friends. They are some amazing women! But it is amazing that they count me a friend at all.<br />
<br />
See - I'm artificial.<br />
<br />
And they know it. <br />
<br />
Let me explain; <i>most</i> of my<i> closest </i> friends are nature loving, tree hugging, organic, home making, from-scratching, kombucha drinking friends. <br />
<br />
And I have at least one set of "America sucks and so does the American church" dreads wearing hippies. (Hi! Hippy friends!*wave*)<br />
<br />
And I'm not. <br />
<br />
And I'm patriotic. I tear up at 4th of July parades. At patriotic songs, too. (again, Hi, Hippy friends! Love you!)<br />
<br />
Now, I <i>appreciate </i>nature, beauty, and doing good for the the ecosystem - Nevertheless, I prefer nature walks with trails, Camp sites with hot showers, indoor plumbing (LOVE indoor plumbing) foods made with fresh/organic ingredients that *someone else* grew. I like my chickens already plucked and packaged. <br />
<br />
And I like hot dogs. No matter the ingredients, what is ground up and in a hot dog never tasted so good. And Twinkies. I like Twinkies.<br />
<br />
A few days ago I went to visit one of said friends who has here own chickens, and they were going to . . I don't know, *Something* with the chickens and the kids were telling me how much it stank. "But, OH!" my friend said "You get fresh eggs every.day!" . .<br />
<br />
To me the pay off is not worth it. Not with cows, not with chickens, not with a major garden.<br />
<br />
I might try growing a small herb garden.<br />
<br />
As for environmentally healthy living - again, I can appreciate it. But I really don't hold much hope of <i>anything </i>getting better. I *do* believe that Jesus is coming back soon, and maybe the elimination of the ozone would be one of the major things that is spoken of in the Bible when the end is upon us. So I won't say that all the disaster senarios environmentalist are dreading <i>wont</i> happen. . .<br />
<br />
Don't worry world, I don't just throw plastic bags out our car window while driving. When at the beach I make sure to gather all my garbage and place it in it's proper receptacle, and I will buy "green" stuff if it's there at a good price. But if it cost more to live better, I'll just die. Thankyouverymuch.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhoqtUyPCmNGwUMWdYuBzSUBYOFhf8-SErlAymS5HeJlQx8VDMTxUY9q5PVa1OOTFXzXHk9q0pZi4grF4Ic69PYcfpy0My7f3OoVhoQ50UzUNkqGcxtW3AjBIM4V4VpYRhCg2HFA/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhoqtUyPCmNGwUMWdYuBzSUBYOFhf8-SErlAymS5HeJlQx8VDMTxUY9q5PVa1OOTFXzXHk9q0pZi4grF4Ic69PYcfpy0My7f3OoVhoQ50UzUNkqGcxtW3AjBIM4V4VpYRhCg2HFA/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
An optimistic cynic. That's me.<br />
<br />
When my friends talk to me about organic food, I can't jump on the bandwagon to believe it's better - Pesticides were created for a reason, and I am <i>not </i>buying that it was for population control.<br />
<br />
That's what lick-able stamps were for. <br />
<br />
If it's canned, packaged, instant, or boxed, it's OK by me. I like preservatives that help the food I buy not spoil so fast and I'm willing to live with the consequences of hormones in my oranges that make them HUGE! <br />
<br />
And with that last paragraph I'll probably have to go into witness protection program . . . .<br />
<br />
Really - I love my peeps! I can appreciate all they do and why. Amazed they tolerate me.<br />
<br />
But I only got the urge to drink kombucha *once*<br />
<br />Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-68185500865127706902011-09-12T20:20:00.000-07:002011-09-12T20:20:48.169-07:00Just a whole bunch of silly princesses . . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I'm sure you've seen this one before: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWc8ab47v0uel7te41M_7WFkW8KXxSRZwwCtS7d9K73kGjGuERVj7vDlD_ciul3A8bDC3tEXuJJgbozPoJ86VXfSsmVRQPPqOKsMBFZCZARZN0l2oTcu87NXne2bHHxXiY7sePsA/s1600/SillyDisneyPrincesses-767838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWc8ab47v0uel7te41M_7WFkW8KXxSRZwwCtS7d9K73kGjGuERVj7vDlD_ciul3A8bDC3tEXuJJgbozPoJ86VXfSsmVRQPPqOKsMBFZCZARZN0l2oTcu87NXne2bHHxXiY7sePsA/s320/SillyDisneyPrincesses-767838.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKbobiM8rA7Wq8ZlnONRwM2Jng5nPNLUVV1K77xBbpvQF241BNDKmWKmqNpWvFIhyphenhyphenuYA3oWGJgPmCKq0ToDx0JdgOMzroN5FWgWuyYJhnVSxDGw2JtJJBnZRJRSPlbTFn1EATfA/s1600/100_4820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a> and while looking for that picture I ran into this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKbobiM8rA7Wq8ZlnONRwM2Jng5nPNLUVV1K77xBbpvQF241BNDKmWKmqNpWvFIhyphenhyphenuYA3oWGJgPmCKq0ToDx0JdgOMzroN5FWgWuyYJhnVSxDGw2JtJJBnZRJRSPlbTFn1EATfA/s1600/100_4820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT97w4wlWfXtiaD5lvMHl4hZfUxJW7goWvsFkU5_uT-jWD9wgqNTx35rjj1B2FYHWN2vg2Dj8AbjQ-BQXYD1I_-bO3Q9UEUUzhi6wNQNICS4LlLisxJtyAhFRdEX6l8VBLo-3qmQ/s1600/2342054600_0e544dfd79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT97w4wlWfXtiaD5lvMHl4hZfUxJW7goWvsFkU5_uT-jWD9wgqNTx35rjj1B2FYHWN2vg2Dj8AbjQ-BQXYD1I_-bO3Q9UEUUzhi6wNQNICS4LlLisxJtyAhFRdEX6l8VBLo-3qmQ/s1600/2342054600_0e544dfd79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT97w4wlWfXtiaD5lvMHl4hZfUxJW7goWvsFkU5_uT-jWD9wgqNTx35rjj1B2FYHWN2vg2Dj8AbjQ-BQXYD1I_-bO3Q9UEUUzhi6wNQNICS4LlLisxJtyAhFRdEX6l8VBLo-3qmQ/s320/2342054600_0e544dfd79.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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All because today, while going through my own pictures I found *THIS* very silly bunch of princesses . . . . . .</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKbobiM8rA7Wq8ZlnONRwM2Jng5nPNLUVV1K77xBbpvQF241BNDKmWKmqNpWvFIhyphenhyphenuYA3oWGJgPmCKq0ToDx0JdgOMzroN5FWgWuyYJhnVSxDGw2JtJJBnZRJRSPlbTFn1EATfA/s1600/100_4820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKbobiM8rA7Wq8ZlnONRwM2Jng5nPNLUVV1K77xBbpvQF241BNDKmWKmqNpWvFIhyphenhyphenuYA3oWGJgPmCKq0ToDx0JdgOMzroN5FWgWuyYJhnVSxDGw2JtJJBnZRJRSPlbTFn1EATfA/s320/100_4820.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I *heart* princesses.</div>
<br />
<br />Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-35382102242258883922011-09-10T00:08:00.000-07:002011-09-10T00:08:05.186-07:00My boy, the warmonger.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My boy makes war on paper: <img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGuzYmu73BDYGYuRoFwr4SkZlJLW6V339j5BTdcF0PIV5a5GgMFTje0uV9k7Jpn23lw4QIr7byTg0qepnlUDW94sy1xY1z0BUyi00YyHHBePQMY-4ad4QBmLkCPoGxBkctwOFFFw/s200/Art+Sep+6+7.jpeg" width="200" /> out of clay, </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKx7e1whdJepJihxn3qWMQwfaUf6HZA5feyg5Smic5PEIX9WEM8Sy5YFNPWfwWdDNzSYAoYpRjrVyJMCBOCWb2HI8LjqWSLWq2hZjhOMRMOYbLoYFFdLHe3Hp2U9Q6g-fRYMzQQ/s1600/IMG_0259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKx7e1whdJepJihxn3qWMQwfaUf6HZA5feyg5Smic5PEIX9WEM8Sy5YFNPWfwWdDNzSYAoYpRjrVyJMCBOCWb2HI8LjqWSLWq2hZjhOMRMOYbLoYFFdLHe3Hp2U9Q6g-fRYMzQQ/s200/IMG_0259.JPG" width="200" /></a>*<i>Out</i>* of paper</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIbjuO3S2kzDdqKM8V4fwPUSjLYaQ9aYXC0KD7Hc6HCI3PROzncqzJCPtlPdwN9QVua4R8YP5QZwwZzPNBGqJeCScO4cdm5jZ3u7KfukKiFGYGoOLwVPGvoK3Eu7EkbJG1qznqg/s1600/IMG_0269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIbjuO3S2kzDdqKM8V4fwPUSjLYaQ9aYXC0KD7Hc6HCI3PROzncqzJCPtlPdwN9QVua4R8YP5QZwwZzPNBGqJeCScO4cdm5jZ3u7KfukKiFGYGoOLwVPGvoK3Eu7EkbJG1qznqg/s200/IMG_0269.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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legos and playmobil<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv4GS7MoZO3PQsRZ6MIkz0FCl9aFFGzdpCvw2dd0_rOk5r6eXRL54iG8prw9U0f72iiwj8jBee_DXy1hBVjjOwjq3Zmr0fJwGjN9LzDxzcR6MmDLcLcMylLSRGjN6GHESY831PBg/s1600/IMG_0275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv4GS7MoZO3PQsRZ6MIkz0FCl9aFFGzdpCvw2dd0_rOk5r6eXRL54iG8prw9U0f72iiwj8jBee_DXy1hBVjjOwjq3Zmr0fJwGjN9LzDxzcR6MmDLcLcMylLSRGjN6GHESY831PBg/s200/IMG_0275.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4Kkd9LH3bpMo2sbZ3eojAKBWfa6mYhDEbcNYZvs_iqtYrvRtIoS2TAyGlXF7pXS29UD6uT3WO5Yx3gLfMTWbR7J994Y6DxleO_ij9TNCDeLHglzuZIMAP0FziVIOQ4KeoLNNWg/s320/IMG_9737.JPG" width="320" /> and even a doll - this one is dressed up as a knight.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypjVPQ3aor5-CN86LZ0TYq_RML3vQ4aQg6cFr3d-O43DAvZAGaK0EmGUU-fiMr1L6grNJR-KWNSLtEfS3rOaGQ5pgk0TAg2N_fFxduuKLFmBXVq-8I5ko1H7im3mT6-137QGWTw/s1600/IMG_9894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypjVPQ3aor5-CN86LZ0TYq_RML3vQ4aQg6cFr3d-O43DAvZAGaK0EmGUU-fiMr1L6grNJR-KWNSLtEfS3rOaGQ5pgk0TAg2N_fFxduuKLFmBXVq-8I5ko1H7im3mT6-137QGWTw/s320/IMG_9894.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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of course, he himself is the most valiant of warriors!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtk9yavvgtyEWR8DoNRCiosluDYypbZQDD6zONC3bOVYDLXh0lYgoYVOM4wqZDJB5TE88wR_FzftKNv1t6YcABmNHsFLcJo-VltrJdak_SFxnGJOjfae2PUd8iHVjuhgMdvbsVdQ/s1600/IMG_9490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtk9yavvgtyEWR8DoNRCiosluDYypbZQDD6zONC3bOVYDLXh0lYgoYVOM4wqZDJB5TE88wR_FzftKNv1t6YcABmNHsFLcJo-VltrJdak_SFxnGJOjfae2PUd8iHVjuhgMdvbsVdQ/s200/IMG_9490.jpg" width="150" /></a> </div>
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I think it's hard wired into him.</div>
Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-67182047437883185972011-08-31T19:44:00.000-07:002011-08-31T19:45:04.352-07:00The one about prayer<a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/plank-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-701" height="124" src="http://bohemianbowmans.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/plank-1.jpg" title="plank-1" width="125" /></a>Plank Pulling Thursday - I was going to do this last week. Didn't get around to it and then Jessica posts <a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/christianity-questions-how-do-i-pray/">*This*</a> last week. <br />
<br />
So - I'm gonna go with it. <br />
<br />
I don't habitually pray before I eat.<br />
<br />
There - I said it. I'm in ministry, I teach Bible studies, I take God VERY seriously and it is usually my hubby that walks in and asks "Did anyone pray?" While I mummble and swallow and clasp my hands together.<br />
<br />
I'd <i>like </i>my kids to give thanks before they eat. I <i>do</i> think there is Biblical precedence for it . . .<br />
<br />
I just don't follow through.<br />
<br />
I take my relationship with Jesus very personal, it's not a religion for me - it's a relationship, and I think there is a fine line between familiarity and disrespect.<br />
<br />
But really - does that mar my christian report card? Does it? Really? <br />
<br />
I might argue that saying thanks before we eat can get legalistic . . . <i>oooohhh</i> and "legalistic" is bad in all christian-ese.<br />
<br />
I mean, God and I talk all the time! There has been more than one prayer that started in my heart and my first words where "I <i>Know</i>!" because God was giving me a spiritual nudge. And I will just start <i>talking</i> to Him. My Abba, Father. <br />
<br />
But consider - God is my Abba, <i>and </i>KING. So, like - say the president's kids, there is a time for intimacy and yet also to remember their fathers position and the respect that is to be show to that. <br />
Granted, I lean towards the intimacy. Like the intimacy I have with the kids at my table. <br />
<br />
And when they leave the table I do insist that they do two things - take the plate to the sink, and say "Thank you for the food" to whomever prepared that meal.<br />
<br />
I guess I could see how God just wants the same consideration from me. <br />
<br />
OK<br />
<br />
I wonder, then, what the "take your plate to the sink" equivalent is? <br />
<br />
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Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-15745806737210444332011-08-29T14:43:00.000-07:002011-08-29T14:43:52.692-07:00*huh*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today, I found these popsicles in the freezer. So *that's* where the spoons went! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My 6 year old did it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFXxgU4-yVx-2m3coP3J_pbof76Qo5WoDQJZ2iJdhvmfLrOwBuFCfK_RA57oDNNZj-JRSpwjmmVbP7A4YjUZ4LcQFp5BCfn6xKOmwaycsp7WHLcCpej288mViexAze-9FUDlkFg/s1600/294149_10150354575418223_670453222_9531029_3485268_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFXxgU4-yVx-2m3coP3J_pbof76Qo5WoDQJZ2iJdhvmfLrOwBuFCfK_RA57oDNNZj-JRSpwjmmVbP7A4YjUZ4LcQFp5BCfn6xKOmwaycsp7WHLcCpej288mViexAze-9FUDlkFg/s320/294149_10150354575418223_670453222_9531029_3485268_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I love that he had the independent gumption to do so!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now, I love babies. More, in fact, than I used to. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But I am happy, happy, happy that my kids are just a little bigger now.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But not BIG.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Still small enough to be carried in after they fall asleep on the drive home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Although the 7yr old is fastly approaching the time where I won't be able to, anymore.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But they are big enough to get themselves ready in the mornings, and big enough to make popsicles for themselves should they feel inclined. And big enough to get a drink for themselves when thirsty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Although, sometimes what they wear, use, drink can surprise/amuse you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Like the cup I found with a straw in it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I remember seeing 3yr old with this drink. I thought it was ice tea.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nope.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was syrup.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Maple syrup.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yeah.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">With.A.Straw.</div><br />
Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-62760501230661965702011-08-25T10:53:00.000-07:002011-08-25T10:53:19.998-07:00Dental Hygiene<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Me to 6yr old: "you need to go brush your teeth when you're done with your lollipop because your teeth are red."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">A little later he says "Hey MOM! Look! I'm brushing my teeth *WHITH* my lollipop!"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Nice</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4ur6O4IrOQLAi58nJfdif_iV0BVS4_qcaXjlAwaoVZqgW_tslA9jC4bx45k5HbNlw86gtp7DgPIvV_QjdOGwezpzRs3VGDgiYty5f_nKRjAEaXV_txZ6jrViP21Z1brVcoxNQg/s1600/IMG_9900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4ur6O4IrOQLAi58nJfdif_iV0BVS4_qcaXjlAwaoVZqgW_tslA9jC4bx45k5HbNlw86gtp7DgPIvV_QjdOGwezpzRs3VGDgiYty5f_nKRjAEaXV_txZ6jrViP21Z1brVcoxNQg/s400/IMG_9900.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-39783320721688673272011-08-21T17:00:00.000-07:002011-08-21T17:07:49.342-07:00Dude<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Dude</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I really like that word, ''<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">dude</span>", it fits so perfectly in so many situations. It'll commiserate, express excitement, joy, defeat, be a greeting, and it is also the most non-committal "safe" word out there.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When first married I told my hubby that if he didn't agree with me about something, maybe he might be thinking I'm completely off my rocker - and he really just wanted to "fix" whatever problem I was having but I <b>just </b><i><b>needed him to listen</b> </i>he could safely say "Um, yeah." But "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>dude</i></b></span>" is going to be my new replacement statement.<br />
<br />
For example: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #fff2cc;">So, I just feel like it's all a big conspiracy man, and don't lick the stamps, OK? Because it's the Man's way of controlling population and I really care about you."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #fff2cc;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dude</span>"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And what's more, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b><i>dude</i></b></span>" if executed properly, can be left to be interpreted by the dude recipient to reflect any emotion or sentiment they need. Nice.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So when you don't know what to say - just say "<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">dude</span></b>". For me it is the verbal equivalent of Duck Tape.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-79041282574508642212011-08-10T10:15:00.001-07:002012-03-14T01:34:02.754-07:00I'm a Christian and I have tattoos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/im-a-christian-and-i-have-tattoos/#comments">Bohemian Bowmans </a>is having a *very interesting* talk over christians and tattoos! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here are two of mine.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbJ-K1UEswuu2P0o7Y7Gt00edA1YxUZt1QZhsBqfR-B303ftaqgdwSohPwLeTX0hJLE5shYy_229vXfzdPXMilcILVSpvKXku3Gn8KEZKWE-gMsqB2uHjqg0vyod6O1Q0_e4_SA/s1600/Photo+on+2011-08-10+at+10.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbJ-K1UEswuu2P0o7Y7Gt00edA1YxUZt1QZhsBqfR-B303ftaqgdwSohPwLeTX0hJLE5shYy_229vXfzdPXMilcILVSpvKXku3Gn8KEZKWE-gMsqB2uHjqg0vyod6O1Q0_e4_SA/s1600/Photo+on+2011-08-10+at+10.01.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0-VNiMhoOsJQafd1OS2VqSEjxNOckXqQL7wd0KJJk1wGfVqVFDDD5WazxwDqH1FOaAoaXkSygcWaGP2EGggpJr_4e6bPttmAlBoGnD924ONhzgwMzi5zgc60GtLSqOPKt4GxwA/s1600/Photo+on+2011-08-10+at+10.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0-VNiMhoOsJQafd1OS2VqSEjxNOckXqQL7wd0KJJk1wGfVqVFDDD5WazxwDqH1FOaAoaXkSygcWaGP2EGggpJr_4e6bPttmAlBoGnD924ONhzgwMzi5zgc60GtLSqOPKt4GxwA/s1600/Photo+on+2011-08-10+at+10.07.jpg" /></a></div><div>It's a cat. </div><div>*sigh* people ask me if it's a wolf. </div><div>Wish it was so cool - it's just a picture I found in a coloring book.</div><div>Yeah</div><div><br />
</div>Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-2412772272807550162011-07-27T20:10:00.000-07:002011-07-27T20:14:13.607-07:00My very first! Plank Pulling Thursday<a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/plank-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-1326" height="198" src="http://bohemianbowmans.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/plank-1.jpg" title="plank-1" width="200" /></a>This is my first Plank Pulling Thursday that <a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/">Bohemian Bowmans</a> has been hosting for quite a while now.<br />
<br />
She says " . . .<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic', AppleGothic, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic', AppleGothic, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">The one day a week that we strongly resolve to ignore the multitude of specks and sawdust around us and pull one bona fide plank from our own eye.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic', AppleGothic, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic', AppleGothic, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%207:3-5&version=NIV" style="color: #d4431e; text-decoration: none;">Matthew 7:3-5</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic', AppleGothic, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">, style."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Century Gothic', AppleGothic, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span><br />
So bear with me -<br />
<br />
Recently, I've had two great friends celebrate their birthdays. One, her hubby set up an elaborate surprise getaway to a Bed & Breakfast followed on their return to a surprise pot luck party with friends. The other had <s>her friends</s> *our* friends throw a surprise black and white party. I just love both these ladies and every one of 'em that set all this up. And I *love* to celebrate birthdays!<br />
<br />
Here's the plank. <br />
<br />
I've got childish envie up the wazoo. Yes. Grown woman, mother of three, former Army National Guard, field missionary since 1997, I. have. jumped. out. of. planes! For crying out loud! Picture me, on the floor, kicking my heals, pounding my fists. IWAANNAABIRTHDAYPARTY! I WANT SOMEBODY TO REMEMBER <i>ME!</i><br />
<br />
*sigh* (give me a minute to gather myself)<br />
<br />
And my plank is big enough that I want someone <i>else</i> to remember my birthday. <b>I</b> don't want to tell them - because it just. isn't. the. same.<br />
<br />
My birthday is in May and very often gets rolled into Mother's day and so it's kinda "shared" *if* it's remembered at all. Other years my birthday was remembered by my beloved, with a weak "Happy Birthday honey, but it's the end of the month . . maybe we'll do something when we get some money."<br />
<br />
I sound ridiculous to myself. <br />
<br />
Yet - ther' be a plank there, no doubt. <br />
<br />
It's more like a pool for me. A self pity pool that draws my interest and just makes me want to dive in and swim around in it. <br />
<br />
So - now to pull this sucker. <br />
<br />
I will chose NOT to swim in that self-pity pool. And if I get my toes wet, I will pull them out quick. I will give thanks for what I have. <br />
<br />
I <i>know</i> that I have friends that love me. I know my husband loves me. I know this. And if I want a birthday party - next year - I'm going to let people know. Oh - and I'm going to set aside a sum for my sweet hubby to go get something, and I'll provide him a list to chose from! And I'll give God the thanks for another year.<br />
<br />
So be warned friends and family . . . May 29th. It will be a true "memorial weekend" if I can help it!<br />
<br />
<br />
<script src="http://www.inlinkz.com/cs.php?id=71491" type="text/javascript">
</script>Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-84426823041589502802011-07-27T15:00:00.000-07:002011-07-27T15:01:39.578-07:00Jessie J - Price tag - Sign Language<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CleXbsA3_ns?fs=1" width="480"></iframe> <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>What a fun video! </div>Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-91804051245169374052011-07-27T11:37:00.000-07:002011-07-27T11:37:26.577-07:00Two thumbs up! Parenting Wild ThingsListen up friends! <br />
<br />
I am a researcher by nature. For each stage of my life, I've got a <s>book</s> books for. When dating I had the dating books, when engaged, when first married, when pregnant . . etc. Hence I've got my favorites.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/wildthings22.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1318" height="359" src="http://bohemianbowmans.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/wildthings22.png" title="wildthings2" width="286" /></a>Allow me to share with you one of my favs now.<br />
<br />
Parenting Wild Things<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Embracing the Rumpus</span><br />
<br />
(- got any 'wild things' yourself?)<br />
<br />
It's an e-book . . that was new to me. First e-book I read; but that is neither here nor there . . .<br />
<br />
First off, I love this author's style of writing. It's a quick and easy read. She is authentic, witty and sincere.<br />
She says:<br />
<blockquote>"So I know quite a bit about imperfection. My parenting has been riddled with it."</blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333233; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span><br />
Ever since I found <a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/">her blog</a> I've read her posts nodding my head and feeling very <i>comadre </i>with her. The book is the same way. <br />
<br />
The first thing she tackles is a mommy's tendency to compare herself to other mothers by sharing her own experience:<br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333233; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><i>"I stare at the computer screen, reading the blog of another mom and stew, yet again, in a pile of self-pity and loathing. “I’m nowhere near as patient as her”, I bemoan. If </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333233; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><b><i>my </i></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333233; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><i>Three Year Old destroyed something of mine, I’d be furious. I would react, I would yell, I would sigh, I would damage the heart of the little soul that has been entrusted to me. I read the accounts of these super moms and grow surer every day that I am a terrible mother and that I’ll never be anything different."</i></span> </blockquote><br />
I <i>loved</i> her idea of kids being like aliens:<br />
<br />
<blockquote><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I’m sad to say that I have spent too much of the last 10 years treating my children like they are criminals with ill intentions; like they purposely make that mess, or break that thing, or blurt out that inappropriate comment, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">just </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">to upset me.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: small;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But the truth is, my children aren’t criminals and neither are yours (well, at least not yet).</span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They’re </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">aliens</span></i></b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">."</span></i></div></blockquote><br />
This actually was my favorite chapter. And then at the end of the chapters she throws in these "challenges" . . . a little goal you can aim for to put some of the ideas into practice.<br />
<br />
To be honest, I didn't agree with everything, but I don't think that's necessary to be able to reap some real gems from her experience, from her book.<br />
<br />
I think <a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/">Jennifer Bowman</a><b> </b>is<b> </b>a gem, <a href="http://www.bohemianbowmans.com/wildbook/">this book</a> is a gem and to sum it up in one word: <i>Enjoyable</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>You can get a copy for yourself <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><u><a href="http://bohemianbowmans.com/let-the-wild-ebook-start/">here</a></u></span></b>.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
DoPfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-45206910403486397392011-07-25T09:28:00.000-07:002011-07-25T09:28:37.585-07:00Parenting Wild Things<iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kk7d9KxtAS8?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Love Love Love!</div>Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27605810.post-65348143507233923242011-07-07T10:17:00.000-07:002011-07-07T18:49:13.613-07:00The good (out of the bad and ugly) in MexicoSo, about 10 days ago I think I broke my foot.<br />
<br />
But *WHO* wants to go to the doctor and pay for the visit and x-rays and more if all they are going to do is tell you to take ibuprofen and stay off it. <br />
<br />
That I can tell myself.<br />
<br />
Like I just did.<br />
<br />
Anyway. My mom is now with me, and my foot is still hurting, and she is -lovingly-persistantly- telling me I need to get it looked at.<br />
<br />
I'm gonna let her sway me, and I'll tell you why - Mexico.<br />
<br />
Mexico doesn't have the doctor, pharmacy, radiology, labs and so on all rolled up into one package - you visit a doctor then you go and visit a lab clinic and then you go to some pharmacy nearby . . .all separate from the other. And on a bad day, I hate this.<br />
<br />
But today it sounds just peachy because it means that I can just hobble myself down to the radiology clinic and get x-rays for myself (for about 35 dollars) and if my foot is badly broken *THEN* I'll take the x-rays to the doctor and see what he has to say about it.<br />
<br />
Otherwise, I'm just taking myself home and downing some ibuprofen. Thankyouverymuch.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">UPDATE: went and got the x-rays, and yes, it's official, it's broken. And I'm back to *less than in love* with Mexico because the doctor put a cast on my foot but I'd have to go somewhere else to find a boot for it.</span><br />
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</span>Pfingstonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12741397045938415768noreply@blogger.com2