tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50245768406065180972024-02-19T22:49:14.588-07:00Project 365Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-20155517172551562872010-07-12T20:35:00.000-06:002010-07-12T20:35:13.565-06:0020<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Weeks. That is how far along in this mostly silent pregnancy I am. Mostly silent because I have not talked about it. Just been keeping this little miracle baby to myself.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Back in January Jason and I started a journey. I should say back in May 2009 we started a journey to have another baby. The road took a twisted turn in January. After buying and using enough pee sticks to fund half my retirement I insisted I talk to the doctor. This was the end of December. I know you are thinking May to December is not too long to try. Keep in mind last time I was pregnant on the 1st, 3rd and 5th try. This time, despite using ovulation kits and other methods I will not discuss, we got nada. Something felt <i>wrong</i>. The doctor scoffed too. I insisted. I even knew when to call. I was made to wait. </div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Another month rolls around and we end up at the end of January. Ultra sound confirmed ovulation. Another try. Another negative test. Let the blood work begin. The vampires drained half my blood. The results rolled in and the calls from the nurse. Normal. Normal. Normal. Just waiting on this last value. Humpf. Maybe I am just impatient. </div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Start of February. The doctor calls and leaves a message. We play tag. She calls when I am in a session. I do the stupid and unthinkable thing, I answer the call (First time in my 6 year career as a therapist). Uh-huh. I see. Okay, yes. Thank you. Blink away tears. I keep it together, end the session and get in the car.</div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hysterics start. Sobbing. Hyperventilation. I </span><b style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>drive</i></b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> home. I get lost even though I am only 8 blocks away. The road is a blur. I call Jason. Call again. Come home. Just come home.</span>Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-60380675712687404862010-07-09T11:26:00.000-06:002010-07-09T11:26:16.489-06:00Cha Cha Cha<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I have never been one for birthdays, at least my own birthday. It seems once I reached 13 birthdays were just another minor disappointment in life. The importance of the day lay with the person having the birthday. This year I wanted to be different. Create my own day. But it turned out surprising...</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I told Jason to think out side of the box this year and surprise me. I honestly was not expecting much (Sad on my part). A few weeks back he asked me for two days in July where I could meet for up to an hour and a half for this project he was working on. I assumed it was for this leadership conference he ha attended and was finishing in July (he was reading a book on balancing work, person and home). I gave him the 7th and 15th. The 7th just happened to be my birthday.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">On the night of the 5th I asked for more information since I needed to plan my work week. He refused and said I would get it Wednesday morning. Intriguing...my curiosity started to peak. Meanwhile I had accepted a consult in Georgetown (which I mistook for a 30 minute drive instead of the 50 minutes it actually took). On the morning of the 7th on the way to the 9:30 consult in BFG I got a text with directions. I called to confirm the time. 11:00. Shit, I don't think I can make it back down by 11. Can I get there by 11:15? NO?! Was I spoiling my birthday by making a silly mistake. I pleaded not to cancel and I would work it out.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Leaving the consult 10 minutes early I speed down the interstate hoping not to get pulled over. I managed to make it to the mystery location by 11:12. Jason said she will wait. In the parking lot I still had no clue what we were doing until I saw the sign..."Adventures in Dance". Awww.....he took me dancing.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">What a great surprise. We talked about dance lessons forever and he remembered. After we were done I was given flowers, a card and taken to lunch. What a dude!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz77z-o39NeLRFPBnCMo8iWZevb71zeE_Tdcnj9BbONKsiJY0SHNBTMfjNHVurpeVlTi4gJxdbcT78XXKVO0pEsqLn-aEgW7MkUEPgK1S-eyWikbGkfYrIt8LQDnNH3dcT-x4Hfv3vdIdH/s1600/IMG_0478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz77z-o39NeLRFPBnCMo8iWZevb71zeE_Tdcnj9BbONKsiJY0SHNBTMfjNHVurpeVlTi4gJxdbcT78XXKVO0pEsqLn-aEgW7MkUEPgK1S-eyWikbGkfYrIt8LQDnNH3dcT-x4Hfv3vdIdH/s320/IMG_0478.JPG" /></a></div>Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-43088329063040976612010-07-08T21:04:00.001-06:002010-07-09T11:26:41.396-06:00LeBron James is all about the money.<br />
I am so over that.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-21991494812371292252010-07-06T21:14:00.002-06:002010-07-06T21:32:50.847-06:00See YaDrive time is thinking time. I have blogged in my head entry after entry only to come home and stare blankly at the screen. (This leaves plenty of time for my past time of celebrity trash talk website like TMZ, OMG or People.) One of those pens that act as recorders would be pretty handy.<br />Anyway, earlier today I attended a going away party for a former co-worker (now good friend) who is leaving my old company. For some reason it was a powerful event but not in the way that you would expect. I was struck by the "business" of the going away social hour. One hour ending one the hour. Brief speech by former boss then out the door. The reality of the expendable employee set in all over again. A person filling a quota. The party felt like a formality. It is just shameful. I know how much this person gave, and gave and gave. Yet in the end it was just office space. Move one out, move one in.<br />Now, I do get to enjoy a more causal affair for my dear friend later this week. I am hoping to be awe struck by all of the ways she has touched the life of her friends. Inspired them to higher moral ground. I am sure I won't be disappointed.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-36409286752087970542010-06-27T21:21:00.003-06:002010-06-27T21:26:32.618-06:00On HoldThe grandest of plans. Always have them never seem to quite keep them.<br />I have been reading like a mad woman. Four books in the month of June. Be impressed. Two of them non-fiction.<br />Anyway, I was going to start the reviews tonight and pass on the wealth of book knowledege kicking around in my brain. Little man threw up (again) tonight and sapped all my energy. Energy that is running low these days (I do need to catch people up). Instead I will get my jammies on and go read.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-71680086855573167322010-06-14T20:09:00.003-06:002010-06-14T20:16:40.068-06:00Poem to Share<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmewW_Af63x7NJesBwaLFgrYMbzrOSvGjrZBT5TkQ7FR8X4vce8gW3H6isZgu7lwKtVbDCUx5oxBudwVwrO83yC2dI0s283Y9j5Y60NxySxv5tlkeVAGa5IJfQuhSd7uEqeMK-xhFbpbmK/s1600/IMG_0356.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmewW_Af63x7NJesBwaLFgrYMbzrOSvGjrZBT5TkQ7FR8X4vce8gW3H6isZgu7lwKtVbDCUx5oxBudwVwrO83yC2dI0s283Y9j5Y60NxySxv5tlkeVAGa5IJfQuhSd7uEqeMK-xhFbpbmK/s200/IMG_0356.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482817861196984978" /></a><br />Silver Lakes<br /><br />We wake in the morning pulled to consciousness by<br />The sun peeking through the window<br />It quietly urges us out of bed<br />My feet slide out onto the cold wooden floor<br />The dogs rise from slumber and shake off their sleep<br />They follow me into the next room looking for breakfast<br />As I put on the coffee, he starts the wood-burning stove<br />Little is said or needs to be said<br />We know what has to be done<br />The chores are divided up by traditional gender roles<br />I stay in to pack up the food and wash the dishes<br />He goes out side to chop wood for the fire<br />The dogs follow him<br />Kate stays on the porch<br />Abbey is at his heels<br />I watch out the little kitchen window<br />As he methodically chops wood<br />Abbey grabs a stick, a piece of bark<br />And then a log when his back is turned<br />My laughter interrupts the silence<br />With sing song melody<br />In that moment while watching my husband<br />I forget what may not be and take delight in what is<br /><br />August 2004Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-64194407664783193192010-05-27T10:37:00.000-06:002010-05-27T14:48:45.339-06:00MorningsMorning creeps in to stir the tiger.<br />Quiet grrs call me in.<br />I pick you up and we sit.<br />Just the two of us, alone in the rocking chair.<br />Head on my shoulder, tickling my cheek with eye lashes.<br />Giggles and little kisses are exchanged.<br /><br />Linger just a little longer.<br />Wait one more minute before the days demands start.<br />Breathe it in together.<br />Connect my heart to your heart.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-90040776146849319882010-05-25T14:45:00.002-06:002010-05-25T21:16:47.897-06:00When I was a young teenager, 14 or 15, I used to get this funny feeling inside about not having children. My inner voice told me time and time again I would adopt. I carried this feeling around for years. In fact, during college around age 20 I had a period of extreme pelvic pain which resulted in a surgery. During that time I was told I was most likely going to have a difficult time getting pregnant or even having children. Flash forward 13 years and a few "tries" and I was surprised to be doing this: <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbunXivHnxRZIQO94m8i6rqdyvWhJMaaF93k20n_Ipx4ZUU8LFqwnUsNVOVyGJXboskh33rQDmR-pupctSrLJ7-kRHpakubN2PYtlm-MLneR64K1M4jocLH-fCz-SxbtgvMV682X7AncFj/s1600/Mean+Mama.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbunXivHnxRZIQO94m8i6rqdyvWhJMaaF93k20n_Ipx4ZUU8LFqwnUsNVOVyGJXboskh33rQDmR-pupctSrLJ7-kRHpakubN2PYtlm-MLneR64K1M4jocLH-fCz-SxbtgvMV682X7AncFj/s200/Mean+Mama.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475411487896030930" /></a><br />and to have made this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPgdCjEJh01hHjzr8mCEqXPZBTemXCmZmxgy0XcISj0-TWmVJ1Arim8ybg7HESgF-FQT_Q1tN8bfVLXzkj6S6EMrWmDZf-s7wMrshS9ebK0bhXa0aFzCY8xsH8k5uroFKoYzytJ5oxwiM_/s1600/P1010076.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPgdCjEJh01hHjzr8mCEqXPZBTemXCmZmxgy0XcISj0-TWmVJ1Arim8ybg7HESgF-FQT_Q1tN8bfVLXzkj6S6EMrWmDZf-s7wMrshS9ebK0bhXa0aFzCY8xsH8k5uroFKoYzytJ5oxwiM_/s200/P1010076.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475412373800442114" /></a><br />Getting pregnant was easy. So easy my husband was sad it did not take longer. My pregnancy and delivery were a breeze. Rowan was beautiful (even the doctor said so as I was delivering! Great timing.)<br />Having my own child never seemed like a path I would wander down. It has been challenging and rewarding in more ways than I had never even imagined. Several years have passed and my baby is a toddler. People have been asking about "the next one" and we have been trying and trying and trying. Now, once again we are headed down a path I never imagined I would be walking.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-66821211021417443002010-05-14T19:53:00.002-06:002010-05-14T20:24:52.101-06:00Dear Self, <br />This has been a long and arduous week full of unexpected twists and turns. There have been a few restless nights and it can feel exhausting. Take heart, tomorrow marks the end and Sunday is the new beginning. While Sunday, Mother's Day, left you on the couch with strep throat after a shot in the ass know that you may finally get the poppy seeds you planted to sprout because of all the snow and rain. It has been a lousy week for driving but Sunday will be perfect to garden again. It is understandable that Monday left you frustrated since you decided to work but instead had to take a sick day. At least you only need to make up one visit.<br />By the way I am so proud of you for deciding to volunteer on Wednesday without Jason. It must have been a let down to hear (read) he was opting to work after you set aside the time to volunteer together - something you have never done. You went anyway, despite the fact you may not know anyone. That was very brave. It turned out to be so much fun and you connected with some of Jason's work friends (and got free lunch). <br />After working hard in the 37 degree weather, Thursday was hairy. A full schedule indeed. And Friday rolled around to cut you a HUGH break. It is hard to fathom 5 out of 7 clients canceled. Really. <br />The worst part of the week must have been seeing your day care provider so mad at your child she could barely talk. White in the face and red in the neck. It must feel shameful <span style="font-style:italic;">your</span> child persists in smearing poop. Where do you even begin, what do you say? It stopped being funny two episodes ago. I know you are worried they will stop caring for your son. There has to be a little relief knowing she provided consequences (finally). It must have been frustrating to listen to your son bawl as you scrubbed him down in the cold shower. It made you cry too. It would have been so easy to scoop him up and say okay but you helped him learn a lesson. Parenting is hard. In your heart you have to believe him when he promised not to smear poop anymore and make good choices [as you rocked him to sleep]. It was the first time he has said that.<br />Enjoy the walk tomorrow. Your Aunt will forgive you for not letting her visit tonight. Sunday is full of sun and there are plants to be planted. Remember to thank your husband.<br />Rest easy.<br />Love,<br />Me<br /><br /><br />Dear Husband,<br />I know work has been crap lately and you haven't felt well. Please know I understand how disappointed you are you couldn't come volunteer. In case I don't express it through my perpetual crabby mood I appreciate you. Thank you for taking our son to daycare each morning because I can't manage to do that and make it to an 8:00 appointment on time. Thank you for making sure he eats his dinner every night and brushes his teeth. Thank you for making that damn peanut-butter sandwich even though you were running late. <br />I love you.<br />WifeMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-12924889414901701142010-05-07T15:51:00.003-06:002010-05-07T16:01:09.889-06:00Down(er) TimeOne thing I love about what I do is the down time between appointments in the car. Most of the time I drive in silence and let my brain run. Decompress. Feel good. Ready to go to the next house. So my beloved Subaru (Betty), that has cost me at least $3000 in repairs in the last six months, has a new "trick" or should I say tick. It started out nice and slightly annoying. I would go to turn the corner, turn on the signal, turn and the clicka-clicka noise would continue. But double time...the sound would be really fast. I would then have to turn my signal on and off to make it stop. Over the past few weeks the double time clicka noise would just show up during non-turn times, like a nat in the summer heat buzzing right in your eyes. Turn signal on and off. It goes away. Now, things have gotten really special. Sometimes clicka does not turn off at all. I mean even after turning the car on and off. I am talking a day of clicka-clicka. My patience is running thin these days as it is. I am pretty sure the clicka will cause a road rage accident soon. Pray for Betty. She is gonna need it.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-66764228228799346222010-04-25T23:10:00.008-06:002010-04-25T23:21:48.526-06:00Picnic Lunch at Botanic Gardens<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKO8mrIqiMEdZ0y9ARiwIZwAEbEWIzkHw5ZHlRU0_PwqFUh6gyPdwNMbGVaQcqJms_Fx9mOhuyaaA8Zz4KzoeA98Augowwap2Oi1MMfp6YJN2eTy3Oo6bJPm7GsJhlhZSjX-Xy9QZs1J19/s1600/IMG_0228.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKO8mrIqiMEdZ0y9ARiwIZwAEbEWIzkHw5ZHlRU0_PwqFUh6gyPdwNMbGVaQcqJms_Fx9mOhuyaaA8Zz4KzoeA98Augowwap2Oi1MMfp6YJN2eTy3Oo6bJPm7GsJhlhZSjX-Xy9QZs1J19/s200/IMG_0228.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464310913856106114" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnZpr_b0j9TpBF7i8Nn1dJFgkv2ZmxuENNWQWN2ArmPirQOdKZw_FfvKpRoiBEjvNn0Xbgu3rE7iCQXr1Yunmtf72j044o06U1ezpQywAMT8ibWY20R8e2yUykQXo6E9XLbsFreN3dptz/s1600/IMG_0223.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnZpr_b0j9TpBF7i8Nn1dJFgkv2ZmxuENNWQWN2ArmPirQOdKZw_FfvKpRoiBEjvNn0Xbgu3rE7iCQXr1Yunmtf72j044o06U1ezpQywAMT8ibWY20R8e2yUykQXo6E9XLbsFreN3dptz/s200/IMG_0223.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464310695395903186" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOWdgPD6TkS5DoFEr-B-I_FJIZsugx1OLnZGK7jm0Ip1Nx2zrbmQkuRbkqVAQmOI3pQckU757MmGaOcdV6uBSKFg82QUlGQSM4VYIt-T3YMUf_S3_YfBYutIgWCHyj3ehhj5XMr4gUGXF/s1600/IMG_0218.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOWdgPD6TkS5DoFEr-B-I_FJIZsugx1OLnZGK7jm0Ip1Nx2zrbmQkuRbkqVAQmOI3pQckU757MmGaOcdV6uBSKFg82QUlGQSM4VYIt-T3YMUf_S3_YfBYutIgWCHyj3ehhj5XMr4gUGXF/s200/IMG_0218.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464310512343794482" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPic13bjOtlx7qZ1sUsUE9FKQ80zX2haRYUvstzb4p_17Y2qfJc8R75UoYRRp3ufW2rsG6sCaWGgymvvX6FbBkBZTZi7Fsk_jtCmrkjYBcgG0hELFfPAsMvBRPHNJ7tIxz_ZGiB6G3OhQU/s1600/IMG_0205.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPic13bjOtlx7qZ1sUsUE9FKQ80zX2haRYUvstzb4p_17Y2qfJc8R75UoYRRp3ufW2rsG6sCaWGgymvvX6FbBkBZTZi7Fsk_jtCmrkjYBcgG0hELFfPAsMvBRPHNJ7tIxz_ZGiB6G3OhQU/s200/IMG_0205.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464310266425335762" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijXIroGQh7-S0By7T2-Z39eaXW2B8al2_IalXPYBJp6FUlsjTp42FGFvlVq2qo6EaWyOmtLB8AMDyV0NPpQjv5FFIkOAoJu7wd9IuMYCG2ZMkXDTaoRPyzr4-T_GMWN5qXW2lWDbSphhZ4/s1600/IMG_0197.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijXIroGQh7-S0By7T2-Z39eaXW2B8al2_IalXPYBJp6FUlsjTp42FGFvlVq2qo6EaWyOmtLB8AMDyV0NPpQjv5FFIkOAoJu7wd9IuMYCG2ZMkXDTaoRPyzr4-T_GMWN5qXW2lWDbSphhZ4/s200/IMG_0197.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464310060552260770" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRU6JofxL47BLKNZMfcfhT1wtQNJjLw_EnJGSEZXm5qUiC5-isC6eDSOoRfVQE5AcQYxMbYDYJUhGS_dUqh37lbAp07Vo1uH8Ftn50zLFXiQNF6dF_qexVZSog9QIWv2ITFso7zfZBdRR/s1600/IMG_0208.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRU6JofxL47BLKNZMfcfhT1wtQNJjLw_EnJGSEZXm5qUiC5-isC6eDSOoRfVQE5AcQYxMbYDYJUhGS_dUqh37lbAp07Vo1uH8Ftn50zLFXiQNF6dF_qexVZSog9QIWv2ITFso7zfZBdRR/s200/IMG_0208.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464309858460581410" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYp3RZ8KCvIeAnFuiSlfOsOieqwMQL6Px8asgPcz67q4VQyPyDKpIIGJ5EqmyCEjTPgWEHlqWmIn-w8BEAdlw_cHZnFx6M-L5RmiiasNS7952rhiG_rJFf5aWKbjOHbM_UpZjbRxdvUtVs/s1600/IMG_0193.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYp3RZ8KCvIeAnFuiSlfOsOieqwMQL6Px8asgPcz67q4VQyPyDKpIIGJ5EqmyCEjTPgWEHlqWmIn-w8BEAdlw_cHZnFx6M-L5RmiiasNS7952rhiG_rJFf5aWKbjOHbM_UpZjbRxdvUtVs/s200/IMG_0193.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464309625661976514" /></a>Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-75481525920031467952010-04-19T20:51:00.007-06:002010-04-19T21:00:31.926-06:00I know Easter was two weeks ago but I thought I would share anyway.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gkPItlkkg6MiNjnOo0nBp-iQATOAah9ylJuwOWD59f3oXDVfDl91ojAjh_1mDvn_5TtQ3AmT-FHqVuYYEo4lyesVRGupdPD3INKC2wUJGjriZiHOH-bCd3jifPRRqdQqmaMM1RZ9D0i0/s1600/IMG_0149.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gkPItlkkg6MiNjnOo0nBp-iQATOAah9ylJuwOWD59f3oXDVfDl91ojAjh_1mDvn_5TtQ3AmT-FHqVuYYEo4lyesVRGupdPD3INKC2wUJGjriZiHOH-bCd3jifPRRqdQqmaMM1RZ9D0i0/s200/IMG_0149.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462048770823802898" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_F_eFW1m5-edAB5Ew2i9Ony3Cf2UzvKV3dDuVbeyZVhhXhYyGqRXR1BaXcnBAsBIibMAmfJrqUv6JlQ-VcGCimG1TLViHelLbZUWrrOKsCoTZh9upFBTKUAHrb2SmM_1VOBYFOlgL6Dv/s1600/IMG_0159.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_F_eFW1m5-edAB5Ew2i9Ony3Cf2UzvKV3dDuVbeyZVhhXhYyGqRXR1BaXcnBAsBIibMAmfJrqUv6JlQ-VcGCimG1TLViHelLbZUWrrOKsCoTZh9upFBTKUAHrb2SmM_1VOBYFOlgL6Dv/s200/IMG_0159.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462048580699805746" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EPAOcRZnvW7bT1ww_PtkH8MxDk9mGA_PfjVUC4Mj8_2kQVU2VvXmchb6smboGoz_obUdN6LAQT7a1s__4ANFFYPQSb_k_EFHt2kQBo2V8oeVyQg854ruEPo9aO8BqMx2joL8YO8NCIQL/s1600/IMG_0157.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EPAOcRZnvW7bT1ww_PtkH8MxDk9mGA_PfjVUC4Mj8_2kQVU2VvXmchb6smboGoz_obUdN6LAQT7a1s__4ANFFYPQSb_k_EFHt2kQBo2V8oeVyQg854ruEPo9aO8BqMx2joL8YO8NCIQL/s200/IMG_0157.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462048328730162498" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblThaN_wdVYJ7NIdfmSV2-JgycmXvQiGAkFSHRkdBbOX24fBj2B8HgyaTA_lXv-5ePw3XUrEJQKbNnYa73-q9LJBXxiL_im4_Jenm7b_IK-1sqWlwA7g0bUSFpY4A-PaKI0z0Njp2OznW/s1600/IMG_0164.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblThaN_wdVYJ7NIdfmSV2-JgycmXvQiGAkFSHRkdBbOX24fBj2B8HgyaTA_lXv-5ePw3XUrEJQKbNnYa73-q9LJBXxiL_im4_Jenm7b_IK-1sqWlwA7g0bUSFpY4A-PaKI0z0Njp2OznW/s200/IMG_0164.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462048123861688930" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxC99wt6iGKZ2RVjmk-Cc1sttPz6mLpKGPgsyqiOJE-4Qn2ZUmk_PBjVop05XeN6iKDE2e0f1FRR0Fvnmf1XRoWQEwuEOk7UiyDziZZCIeOQAGo0QTM1IEk0iu5jEHg9FElvKlKFNf-PTV/s1600/IMG_0147.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxC99wt6iGKZ2RVjmk-Cc1sttPz6mLpKGPgsyqiOJE-4Qn2ZUmk_PBjVop05XeN6iKDE2e0f1FRR0Fvnmf1XRoWQEwuEOk7UiyDziZZCIeOQAGo0QTM1IEk0iu5jEHg9FElvKlKFNf-PTV/s200/IMG_0147.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462047838070329618" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-bD4Q4Nl9fawSP-3VL1NRIlFQ_rQQ2BEohiHUz6mh4qlp-jr4tRdbphpIfjfqme2wwJS0rj7XMS4JnqyyXoJJS_5eHn2nTZ7bRtIjD8QQzaBZj4wpysUurinlXhq4Hid923APR2fOIHm/s1600/IMG_0153.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-bD4Q4Nl9fawSP-3VL1NRIlFQ_rQQ2BEohiHUz6mh4qlp-jr4tRdbphpIfjfqme2wwJS0rj7XMS4JnqyyXoJJS_5eHn2nTZ7bRtIjD8QQzaBZj4wpysUurinlXhq4Hid923APR2fOIHm/s200/IMG_0153.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462047508324018434" /></a>Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-71110224462318896272010-04-16T15:06:00.000-06:002010-04-16T16:01:24.470-06:00Way back when I was a single, freeloading and dirt poor I bought this red vinyl chair from Goodwill. I love this chair. It has been with me for over 10 years. To appease my significant other I recovered the chair when we moved to our house almost 6 years ago. It stood faithfully by my bed catching all my discarded clothes at the end of the day. When Rowan was born it got kicked out of the bedroom for a short while and Jason did not want it back. He was ready to give it back to Goodwill. Despite the protests I kept the chair and recovered it once again.<br />Here are a few pictures of the chair in progress.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr38igRNvS8R1kI-JHn1CyGyttFnbG5B3Oy9x62In4v4Zj6mHRNqK8UxGUKUObmH_HC3ic3oI2gwYqs2B2BPRXpHkV7QUq03UXd2lCudBkV5FITLEdtB70v7Tnf-fyta2LfXP0IMS1KKf8/s1600/P1010250.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr38igRNvS8R1kI-JHn1CyGyttFnbG5B3Oy9x62In4v4Zj6mHRNqK8UxGUKUObmH_HC3ic3oI2gwYqs2B2BPRXpHkV7QUq03UXd2lCudBkV5FITLEdtB70v7Tnf-fyta2LfXP0IMS1KKf8/s320/P1010250.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454166856806374514" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdjAMwohdhfQJbhyphenhyphenS_d4cHkut9ln9D-7gSO0iKTf8u0DImWu5g-MSs6Rsbt7lvs8Mxu1jlB1stI_4wdsvgE03UZi5Ch4R_u0N669rj7D0PVSDk1jeasCRu00vS5D7jVPAPqQfOTO2DQoJ/s1600/P1010249.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdjAMwohdhfQJbhyphenhyphenS_d4cHkut9ln9D-7gSO0iKTf8u0DImWu5g-MSs6Rsbt7lvs8Mxu1jlB1stI_4wdsvgE03UZi5Ch4R_u0N669rj7D0PVSDk1jeasCRu00vS5D7jVPAPqQfOTO2DQoJ/s320/P1010249.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454166468801731250" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02WLo7GB1Z4kiqEiPZGxBu8bLFBQDnJlvDae_DheG8JFwbDoZCXwIRsF7CA23pS2erMisEi0J4XKCPu-JQ4rz975A3AbOd5G23vTStrNSKEItUb07Vtz_UESKhk6MdpPUUparBu8jVS1f/s1600/P1010248.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02WLo7GB1Z4kiqEiPZGxBu8bLFBQDnJlvDae_DheG8JFwbDoZCXwIRsF7CA23pS2erMisEi0J4XKCPu-JQ4rz975A3AbOd5G23vTStrNSKEItUb07Vtz_UESKhk6MdpPUUparBu8jVS1f/s320/P1010248.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454166094420633554" /></a><br /><br />I chose a fabulous fabric to recover it. The project only took two months in real time and a few hours in pretend time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdA-bvm24x_CANUZfIq6gw1Ulpv-YZ9pxP7gka5Gu4YF105lcpV6ojXDinS0LpQrTOCvv_6W3nxoKicvUSxi672KhyphenhyphenHLSreuZ_52MAPpUlxHrUVF-UjYjawrm2XBtzJyTG7X3jieem9eOt/s1600/P1010251.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdA-bvm24x_CANUZfIq6gw1Ulpv-YZ9pxP7gka5Gu4YF105lcpV6ojXDinS0LpQrTOCvv_6W3nxoKicvUSxi672KhyphenhyphenHLSreuZ_52MAPpUlxHrUVF-UjYjawrm2XBtzJyTG7X3jieem9eOt/s320/P1010251.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454168767007141666" /></a><br /><br />Now, it once again sits next to my bed faithfully catching my clothes. Jason even is starting to like it.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-66626413650818484462010-04-03T21:52:00.000-06:002010-04-03T21:53:18.285-06:00Happy Easter to all!Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-90595273762214904042010-03-29T13:00:00.000-06:002010-03-29T15:25:45.637-06:00If the human brain were so simple<br />that we could understand it, we would<br />be so simple that we couldn't.<br />Emerson M. PughMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-78629500971994365772010-03-25T20:55:00.004-06:002010-03-25T21:00:40.568-06:00For Real?I am busy working on billing this afternoon and decide to take a break and go to the potty. When I was walking back to my desk to return to billing I felt like a had a major underwear malfunction. What the crap. I reach back to adjust and grabbed way too much material. WHAT? I reach down the back of my jeans and pull out a SOCK! Yes people, I had been walking around all morning (visiting clients) with a sock in my crotch. So sweet. At least I know what happened to that other missing sock....Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-69779728391778148492010-03-19T17:10:00.002-06:002010-03-19T17:20:01.486-06:00This year (and last) have been hard years for many, many people. I think about this quite often. On those days that feel more difficult due to lack of time, money or energy I think about others. Although the economy is on an up turn people are continuing to lose jobs or take pay decreases to keep a job. There have been some friends or friends of friends who are morning the loss of children, family or other loved ones. Others are morning lost opportunity, lost homes, lost cars. <br /><br />Thinking of all those things puts life into perspective for me.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-60548751761958610162010-03-10T20:22:00.004-07:002010-03-10T22:35:18.651-07:00Get up, Stand upThis morning 7 am<br />"Mom, you pee standing up."<br />"Rowan, I can't pee standing up. I don't have a penis."<br />"Mom! You don't have a penis. YOU PEE STANDING UP."<br />"I can't."<br />"You can stand OVER the potty."<br />"Yes, I suppose I could."<br /><br />Rowan has been peeing standing up, if you couldn't tell.<br /><br />In other news, had another bout of <a href="http://onlyneve.blogspot.com/2009/09/horror.html">not my kid</a> today.<br /><br />Here is the ironic part of the situation...on the way to pick up Rowan I was thinking about how nice it was since he has been going on the potty. He sure smells better when I pick him up from Papa's. Then I thought I bet Papa is so happy not to be changing poopy diapers. It's a good thing we haven't had a poop smearing episode in a while....<br /><br />And once again it all boils down to a load of crap and body humor. You are welcome.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-53844215035652615842010-03-07T23:10:00.000-07:002010-03-07T23:11:07.016-07:00Procrastination is opportunity's natural assassin.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-86553430247416842842010-03-04T14:50:00.005-07:002010-03-04T15:07:15.411-07:00Woof! Dog or Master?The other night Rowan was roaming around the dining room table in a bear crawl panting like a dog. He stops under his chair and licks the floor.<br />"Rowan, don't lick the floor. That's gross."<br />He looks up, smiles, and licks the floor.<br />"Rowan! Look at Mommy. Don't lick the floor. There are all kinds of germs on the floor that can make you sick. You don't want a tummy ache."<br />Smirks. Licks the floor.<br />"Rowan! You are not a dog. DON'T LICK THE FLOOR!"<br />He sits down on his feet, cocks his head to one side touching his ear to his shoulder, wags his finger at me and says, "Well, act-truly I am."<br /><br /><br />Last night at dinner we were being ordered around by one very assertive 2 1/2 year old. Lot of nnnnooooosss and Daddy you do this and Mama you do that. Finally I asked who is in charge and IMMEDIATELY Rowan raised his hand.<br /><br />P.S. Rowan went potty at daycare two days in a ROW! (Just once each day but I'll take it!)Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-91652152041837723642010-03-02T07:59:00.000-07:002010-03-02T08:00:15.954-07:00Just around the cornerWelcome March.....looking forward to thinking green.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-79628512511713809492010-02-26T12:36:00.006-07:002010-02-26T14:23:34.573-07:00March 24, 1995Turned out to be the date of the first time I told Jason I loved him. I am pretty sure he ran like hell after that since we did not start dating until the end of 1997. How do I even remember this? Well, I didn't. I finally decided to make good on a promise to myself at the start of this year (hence project 365) to clear away the clutter in my life and renew. <br />The other day I was fired up about a point of disagreement between Jason and I and I needed to let off steam. Most people might exercise, eat or drink but I engage in activities of avoidance and distraction (such a talent I put it on my resume). Anywho, I went to the garage and picked out one random blue plastic tub. It was a great choice since it was full of MY old letters and journals. Letters from circa 1990 to 1996 to be exact. Letters from high school and college from friends, boyfriends and family. I took some time and read some of them before throwing them out. I did keep some letters, those that were signed or had a little note from people who had passed away. (And, of course, all of those kind and loving words from my husband of 8 years/friend of 17 YEARS.)<br />Reading through high school letters was ridiculous. I don't remember half of the crap that was written in them. Probably for the best. I did realize I have come a long way from crazy. Then I got to thinking about why we hold onto what we hold onto. What purpose did this heap of paper and ink serve in my current life? Mostly, no purpose. BUT...<br />All though old forgotten words can't bring back youth or take away the many mistakes or broken relationships they can still be powerful. Sometimes words serve a reminders of who you are and where you have been in your life. Words mark how you handled and dealt with bumps in the road. They are remembrances of those people who made an impact. Words can soften a heart and make it remember who loves you most. Perhaps, a point of contention can become a point of concession.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-59607895255626814022010-02-24T22:22:00.002-07:002010-02-24T22:26:16.923-07:00On the list of things to doSleep in a <a href="http://www.treehousepoint.com/index.html">tree</a> house. Sleep in a wooden <a href="http://www.freespiritspheres.com/index.htm">orb</a>.<br /><br />Serious as a heart attack, the Siegfreid family will make the above adventure happen.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-90754665939482863642010-02-21T20:57:00.003-07:002010-02-21T21:25:51.184-07:00Touching the StarsOne of the reasons I set forth to make global changes in my life is based off a period of reflection. You know the old saying "An unexamined life is not worth living". Reflection is a practice I have held steadfast to for many years, since shortly after college. Examination has always led me to make changes. A move to Minnesota to join Americorps. A move to Chicago to be near family. Quitting a job to pursue graduate school. Quitting a job to form a business of my own. This year was not any different when it came time to reflect but the source of reflection turned outward instead of inward. I looked to a the group of amazing women who touch my life. Here are a few shining examples of those stars...<br /><a href="http://ugandachallenge.blogspot.com">Danielle</a> is just married. She is a yoga instructor, a physical therapist and a good friend. In her spare time between three jobs and going to school for her PhD she managed to raise $20K for children in a third world country. <br /><a href="http://www.soallmayeat.org/">Libby</a> is an old friend from high school who opened a cafe where payment is optional. If you have no money you can help out and repay your meal. The cafe aims to use natural and organic foods. Libby and her husband opened the cafe in 2006.<br /><br />P.S. Please be utterly impressed I am putting links(words of a different color) in my blog.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024576840606518097.post-64567257193012708902010-02-16T21:25:00.006-07:002010-02-16T22:12:19.611-07:00Fruits of ActionsIn 2003 I graduated from Colorado State with a masters of <a href="http://www.ot.cahs.colostate.edu/">occupational</a> therapy. My family presented me with a wonderful gift of a digital camera, an <a href="http://www.olympusamerica.com/cpg_section/cpg_archived_product_details.asp?fl=&id=890">Olympus</a> C5050 Zoom. Back in the day it was the creme de la creme of cameras. Practically a SLR. Over the years this camera has brought me such joy and endured drop after drop onto various surfaces. One day after the last and most fateful drop the hook that holds the battery casing broke. After months of brain storming (Sept 09 to Feb 10) I came up with a plan to salvage the camera. The plan was incredibly ingenious!<br />Using black elastic, black snaps, thread and super glue I created this solution:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90foXsxFXpLHWySdp75lcAUo12JsQ9tZfRh7ajPEH8W7WIx4tfc8nceIfekRTl6qsHyhrCLBem7kr7W5C0PnKvWkgX_9UhMQKa77ZVIuLrCxGgWB9J3VEK9d99CoIxTU2LdIIxJnwqLgS/s1600-h/IMG_0071.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90foXsxFXpLHWySdp75lcAUo12JsQ9tZfRh7ajPEH8W7WIx4tfc8nceIfekRTl6qsHyhrCLBem7kr7W5C0PnKvWkgX_9UhMQKa77ZVIuLrCxGgWB9J3VEK9d99CoIxTU2LdIIxJnwqLgS/s200/IMG_0071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439072582789711010" /></a><br />It securely held the camera body and battery cover in place.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJnqk8SKFBJlaJJZUogTS2tS0HYoyRTpHVHw4Zjk_Dd0pJcb_UuLVAU4EzzQZPAtqQgtafKopQKga1s4_kuLpr44Z2bRMX69lPt2mEK-OAd5MEJaJO3CjlhTzwmH-zTRFpp-p9rfODcsd/s1600-h/IMG_0072.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJnqk8SKFBJlaJJZUogTS2tS0HYoyRTpHVHw4Zjk_Dd0pJcb_UuLVAU4EzzQZPAtqQgtafKopQKga1s4_kuLpr44Z2bRMX69lPt2mEK-OAd5MEJaJO3CjlhTzwmH-zTRFpp-p9rfODcsd/s200/IMG_0072.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439073427949490834" /></a><br />The placement of the snaps took a few tries but in the end it worked. While sewing I decided to turn the camera off. After the completion of the project I turn the camera back on. The lens starts out with a grind and whirl and is followed by a BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!. NOOOOOOO!!!!!! So much for renew and reuse.<br />I guess the camera is done for after all. There must be a karmic lesson hidden some where or life is preparing me for bigger challenges.Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01610228062531269001noreply@blogger.com0