tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49983199684087805562024-03-13T21:02:51.925-07:00Vonderhaus Life"...this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see."
--eugene peterson, the messagewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.comBlogger157125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-10430225333271208172012-04-01T19:41:00.002-07:002012-04-01T20:59:55.731-07:00InspirationI've been ambushed by a variety of inspirations, new relationships are starting to take root and opportunities are offering themselves like so many Costco samples (I couldn't think of a better analogy...is that a bad sign?) and I'm getting to the place where it's quickly becoming apparent that I have no idea what I'm going to feed all these kids this week and the sink is full of dirty dishes and it's just about bedtime and we haven't eaten dinner (these longer days are fooling us!). My big dreams and inspirations are hitting the ceiling of this little houseful of hungry children who look at me to direct their own bursting imaginations.<br />
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But before I realized the impending conclusion of spring break leisureliness, I found inspiration in a conversation with my dad. I promised my dad that I would sketch something and mail it to him immediately. I told him he should, too...but it might take getting mine in the mail to push him to actually do it. He's an amazing artist, but he's been undercover for a long time. Just takin' care of business I guess. There is value in always making art, if that is what you were made to do, like I was (I am forcing myself to believe that). Like he was. Like his mother before him was. I don't want to let art become a stranger to me.<br />
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So I held up my end of the sketchbook... now it's his turn.<br />
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<br />whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-70135185313728702162011-11-07T23:54:00.000-08:002011-12-21T17:44:55.924-08:00Buggy Bouncy Birthday BoyIt's a good thing Noble is in the high-maintenance toddler stage right now, or I'd be totally distraught at the fact that my "Original Baby" is a whole seven years old already!<br />
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Ahh, yes...when Micah doubled as Nicholas from <i>Eight is Enough</i>.</div>
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Look at those clothes! Micah's now wearing Taylor's clothes and Noble wears that yellow jacket!</div>
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Yeah, I know, it happens. My job requires that I get sentimental about it.</div>
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But he's the same-ole Micah in most ways. Less teeth, maybe.</div>
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And now.....one...two...three...</div>
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU....</div>
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HAPPY <span style="font-size: large;">BIRTHDAY</span> DEAR MICAHHH.....</div>
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOO YOUUUUUU!!!</div>
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Okay, okay...I know this looks like something out of <a href="http://www.cakewrecks.com/" target="_blank">CakeWrecks</a>,</div>
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but it's exactly what Micah asked for and even I couldn't believe the approval I got from the kids on this one.</div>
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I am horrible at frosting cakes anyway (I was awesome at Baskin Robbins back in the day, but non-frozen cake decorating eludes me entirely), and the rest of it is seriously just a pile of candy rocks and gummy worms. But dirt and bugs, that's what he wanted. Seems about right for my rough-and-tumble boy!</div>
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SO stoked to get some video game action, since Noble chewed up all our other games.</div>
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Even though it doesn't follow my "it has to make you exercise" rule for Wii games, I'm pretty stoked, too. Let's just say chores are getting done much quicker thanks to the "Mario Motivator".</div>
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Micah loves to play/watch video games with his big brother, but most of the time he's making up imaginary stories and games with Morgen and they love these dolls. Morgen was so excited to give this one to Micah. Even Noble has a "dolly" like this and sometimes they all play together...it's the cutest thing. It's funny to me because the older two weren't really into dolls.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Please ignore any and all reality in the background.)</span></div>
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Often the different dynamics of our family get lost in the crowd, so to speak. Sometimes I capture a picture or notice a moment that isolates one of these dynamics, and I realize that we have <i>three </i>boys --boy howdy!-- and that they have each other for brothers. This is crazy and wonderful all at the same time.</div>
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THEN...I was so glad I bought a Groupon for J.J.Jump last summer. This was the perfect place to take Micah and a friend for a birthday treat. Afterwards we went to Baskin Robbins for a realy special treat!</div>
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Micah invited one of his best school friends to come jump with us!</div>
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Micah was so brave to try this bungee thingy. They hook you up....</div>
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....then you get pulled up to a high point....</div>
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...you pull the chord and ZOOOOOOMMMM!</div>
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"Look ma, no hands!"</div>
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Then Micah got all <a href="http://projectbandaloop.org/" target="_blank">Project Bandaloop</a> on us.<br />
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Taylor tried this thing where you strap in, run as fast as you can to put a beanbag through the hoop. You have to jump up and forward to do it, then the bungee snaps you back. It's pretty hilarious.<br />
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What you can't tell from those bungee photos is that this room is totally lit with blacklight and neon grafitti. Morgen liked being all glow-y.<br />
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Noble had a little...<i>accident</i>...as soon as we got there (of course) and the only thing I had in the car was a cloth diaper cover and some socks. In this black-lit room, it was easy to keep track of him going up and down a big blow-up slide, socks and undies glowing bright!<br />
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Fun times!<br />
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY MICAH!</div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-86816668256005065212011-11-04T23:24:00.000-07:002011-11-05T00:02:40.987-07:00Dance of the Dead! That's what they were calling it: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>The Dance of the Dead</b></span>.<br />
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Tonight Korah had her first middle school dance and the kids all had a blast! The key to getting kids to dance, I've decided: <i>strobe lights</i>. Goofing off in a strobe light is endless fun, and makes super-cool shadows on the wall.<br />
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I didn't get any pictures of my Little Miss Independent in her awesome costume on Halloween (she was running around haunted houses with friends), so I had to snap a few photos at the end of the dance tonight. She didn't have her full wig and zombie make-up on, but what luck to capture such a great action shot with my silly little camera! Look at her cutting a rug there-- she's such a fun girl.<br />
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And so pretty! What the day-of-the-dead is going on? Yes, despite the white face paint, a light and life shines through her expression. I am excited for and proud of the young woman she is becoming.<br />
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Now, because it's not a half-bad picture of me (note to self: left arm takes better self-portraits), I have to brag a little on Korah's awesome teacher who allowed these social butterflies to pull off a really fun evening. She's really giving them "wings", and I'm glad she's ours! :) I have to admit, I kind of adore her.<br />
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Is the spookiness over yet? Because I have some birthdays to share about!whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-60020030134037781272011-11-02T17:12:00.000-07:002011-11-05T00:01:23.408-07:00Halloween 2011<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2iMXHQDv2no/TrDA06CEBGI/AAAAAAAAByQ/0UwHEavSLdM/s1600/DSCN5645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="548" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2iMXHQDv2no/TrDA06CEBGI/AAAAAAAAByQ/0UwHEavSLdM/s640/DSCN5645.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nope, no live bodies here. I think that's what the candy is for, because they definitely come alive later. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Noble caught on fast, "trick-or-treat"ing like a champ. And I know it's obvious, but...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">SO. FREAKIN. CUTE! Oh my goodness...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We traveled to a friend's neighborhood because 1) They were making donuts from scratch (!!) and 2) Morgen's classmate Iva, and Noble's best friend Ada Gene live there. Noble is in L-O-V-E with Ada Gene and whaddya know, she was a cowgirl to his cowboy. So sweet!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">See, Vampires aren't that scary. Just give 'em a sucker and a book about Halloween, that calms 'em right down.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh. No.</span></td></tr>
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<br />whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-23815751055526381152011-11-01T14:50:00.000-07:002011-11-01T14:50:58.943-07:00Caramel Apples & Catan<b>Riddle:</b> What do you get when you combine 6 little boys, two girls in potential halloween costumes, a dozen apples, chocolate chips, a bag of caramels and chopsticks?<br />
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<b>Riddle-culous answer:</b> Loud noises, top-bunk highdives, half-eaten-carpet-fuzzed caramel apples, tickles, sword fights, laughing, crying, and a WHOLE LOTTA FUN!! Not to mention adult Vonderahes getting smoked in Settlers. Only the suspense of caramel-apple creating provided room for photography, but the rest of it <i>stuck</i> to our memories, as good times do.<br />
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We heart <i>Vondermonahizzle</i> nights!whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-75497986936864209922011-10-29T21:19:00.000-07:002011-11-29T23:08:37.076-08:00The Competition Was Neck and Neck...Today, Taylor won first place for his Headless Man costume at the roller rink! He stayed in character the entire time (which means holding his disembodied head in his palm, and looking quite forlorn about his unfortunate and disgusting predicament):<br />
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Of course, he acts all unimpressed with winning and everything, but I know he's excited. He wanted this to be his costume so bad; he's been talking about it for weeks! I wasn't sure how to pull it off (I certainly wasn't going to buy what is basically a daddy-sized shirt for $30), but I'm glad we could whip up an award-winner at the last second! I love this kid so much...he's hilarious (the playing characters part, not the bloody stump part) and has such an imagination!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Y'all:</b> what have been your best, homemade kids Halloween or dress-up costumes?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Update:</span> hello?!?! Does anyone read my blog? I asked a question there, in the hopes of some interaction, and some cool ideas. Sheesh. Anyway, I just wanted to brag further that Taylor won another costume contest at the Jr Hi church game night...and he's not even in Jr Hi!! Ha! The ironies...whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-35742594348074028772011-10-22T21:02:00.000-07:002012-03-27T21:18:06.456-07:00GRIMM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Beautiful and gothically creepy in a good fog, our little neck of the woods is sometimes host to some movie and TV-making. The movie <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0422783/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">The Music Within</a></i> was filmed in a friend's house down the street and we actually got to tour the set! It was really cool to see how they transformed her living room to another era. And in one of the shots, you can see the corner of our roof and the tree in our backyard! We're famous!<br />
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<a href="http://www.nbc.com/grimm/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Grimm</a> is a new police crime drama set in Portland, taking "Keep Portland Weird" to a whole new level. Personally, I think it's kind of a cheezy drama, and the acting is <i>meh</i>, but we can't stop watching it for all P-town cameos! We are glad that the show has been renewed for a second season, bringing a lot of business to local shops, and exciting neighborhood moments! Noble and I went to check out the filming of season 1, episode 9, <i>"Of Mouse and Man"</i> and we stood chatting with a guy guarding the steps up to the street. I was a little surprised when this scene in the episode was so short. It took them half the day to shoot. I guess that's the way it goes. The water truck (that sprays the streets to make the scene consistent with the rest of the episode) parked in front of our house. That makes us cool, I'm sure of it. So cool, in fact, that one of the key grips bought the house across the street!<br />
Between Grimm and <a href="http://www.ifc.com/shows/portlandia" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Portlandia</a>, we're dodging film crews everywhere!<br />
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<br />whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-31472281781257625242011-10-18T22:06:00.000-07:002012-03-27T22:15:21.048-07:00Mushroom Hunt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of the perks of being a parent is occasionally driving for a field trip: I get to go to all these cool places for free, and learn cool stuff like... who ignores the teacher and who throws the banana peels from their lunch into the bushes and....wait, that was my kid. I can't remember anything I learned about mushrooms, but now I can't go on a hike without seeing them everywhere.<br />
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Aww...all these friends and being a brother comes first.</div>
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<br />whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0Forest Park, Portland, OR, USA45.5842415 -122.812141945.495819499999996 -122.9700704 45.6726635 -122.6542134tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-1033934121550710142011-10-18T06:02:00.000-07:002012-03-26T02:18:12.411-07:00Noble Turns FREE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's kinda funny to me how parenting has changed over the years. I really could care less about having the most crafty kid's party to blog about anymore (although I enjoy the eye candy in a good Martha Stewart magazine once in a while). I just love this jibber-jabbering little squirt and think he should have whatever he wants for a couple of hours, one day of the year (more than that would kill him, I'm sure). So a bunch of colorful cupcakes, all the friends he talks about, a fun game starring "Woody", and his favorite movie... simply made this happy little guy's day.</div>
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I can't believe it's been three whole years since his speedy arrival! It feels like he just jumped into this family and started running with the crowd, like he was just meant to be. We still kinda look at him like the "new guy" but he doesn't know any different. He's obsessed with Star Wars along with his brothers, he knows all the rules and the daily schedule. He's pretty flexible, but won't stand for not being communicated with: "Where we going, mama? Who is dat [on the phone]? Is dis guten-free, mama? Is it?" He's full of inquiries and pleases and thank-yous. And if all that high-pitched verbosity isn't enough, his soft, pudgy little body is still killin' us with cuteness.</div>
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THREE. Three is always more challenging for the Vondermom than Two ever was. But I know that Three is also So. Dang. Precious. And not to be missed...as it's zooming by so quickly...to disappear into the schoolyears. We shout it from the rooftops, over the Vonder-din:</div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I LOVE YOU, NOBLE!"</span></div>
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He's not asking if he can have one, he's just reiterating what and who they are for.</div>
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One, two, THREE!</div>
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Noble LOVES Woody from Toy Story.</div>
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Korah drew this picture and created a "Pin-the-Hat on Woody" game!</div>
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Noble proudly displays her artwork above his bed now.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">NO PEEKING!!</span></div>
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Look at all this help from his sisters and brothers.</div>
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This is the luckiest kid to be loved so much, I'd say.</div>
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Way to go, Micah! Right on target!</div>
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All of Noble's little friends: he loves them, he prays for them, he remembers them often.</div>
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It's so sweet that friendships are important to such a young person, whose life is already so full of people.</div>
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I am also so glad that Noble has such awesome big buddies in his life.</div>
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He really loves his sibling's friends, too!</div>
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If I'm going to get materialistic and consumeristic at all it's going to be about this: I wish I could've gotten him a "real" Woody, with a pull-string and everything, but this squeezy version will have to do for now. Noble loves repeating Woody's little sayings, like, <i>"You've got a date with justice, one-eyed Bart!"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Noble's favorite gift of the day was given to him by his siblings, who pooled their allowance money to get him this Toy Story birthday card that sings, <i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zB2gPZRsz0Q" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">"You've Got a Friend in Me!"</a></i></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YkawLnVG2Ak/T0-Ag3dVvMI/AAAAAAAACUk/WQa21kIpz5E/s1600/DSCN5474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YkawLnVG2Ak/T0-Ag3dVvMI/AAAAAAAACUk/WQa21kIpz5E/s400/DSCN5474.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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He walked around dancing and singing along with those two lines until that card was in shreds.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pDWweLHSWqo/T0-Ak4XzE0I/AAAAAAAACUs/Y0nCfSnmQqo/s1600/DSCN5475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pDWweLHSWqo/T0-Ak4XzE0I/AAAAAAAACUs/Y0nCfSnmQqo/s400/DSCN5475.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Open-close-open-close....</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DyjtN_bSUcc/T0-Ao6q_WnI/AAAAAAAACU0/YjHYbeFpL9A/s1600/DSCN5481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DyjtN_bSUcc/T0-Ao6q_WnI/AAAAAAAACU0/YjHYbeFpL9A/s400/DSCN5481.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(The inevitable crowd of "helpers)</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-khNzILsSdMo/T0-AsyjLQtI/AAAAAAAACU8/NtQB4oG_XtY/s1600/DSCN5496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-khNzILsSdMo/T0-AsyjLQtI/AAAAAAAACU8/NtQB4oG_XtY/s400/DSCN5496.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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I just think this is funny: all these zombie-kids staring at the boob-tube, eating cupcakes and pizza like a bunch of teenagers, when we're supposed to be media-deprived, organics-only Portlandians. (Yeah, right.) Well, all Noble ever wants is to watch a movie, and it was so fun to let him sit down with all his friends, his special gluten-free birthday foods and watch the much-asked-for Toy Story 3.<br />
What a treat!<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Thank you to all of Noble's friends and their parents for loving him and helping us celebrate such a fun and wonderful little guy.</b></div>
</div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-65078802562629582962011-10-17T12:31:00.000-07:002011-10-17T12:47:17.165-07:00iProud<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G7YAvUWtNjw/Tpxy6tQHqBI/AAAAAAAABug/hilZt1YCrZU/s1600/056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G7YAvUWtNjw/Tpxy6tQHqBI/AAAAAAAABug/hilZt1YCrZU/s200/056.JPG" width="150" /></a>Korah is a budding photographer now that she's got her own camera. She babysat all summer, dividing up her earnings between giving, savings and spending jars. Her grammy, who's a bookkeeper, showed her how to keep records, and I'm proud to say that Korah kept them! Every time she earned some babysitting money, she came home and divvied it out, taking note of her employer, her hours, her pay. I could take a lesson!<br />
<div><br />
<div>By the end of summer, her goal was reached (although the specific amount kept changing as we shopped around online) and she bought her very own iPod Touch! We are very proud of her achievement...and now, of her photography!<br />
<div><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CV70gExp4oU/Tpxy60H12gI/AAAAAAAABuo/Fri7j4Vwj3I/s1600/060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CV70gExp4oU/Tpxy60H12gI/AAAAAAAABuo/Fri7j4Vwj3I/s400/060.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ldVfB8jkm1E/Tpxy6IRtfiI/AAAAAAAABuY/_zwTEmNOrgI/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ldVfB8jkm1E/Tpxy6IRtfiI/AAAAAAAABuY/_zwTEmNOrgI/s400/054.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RWL7Eka8x5g/TpxzJTSMppI/AAAAAAAABvA/BpNUeHU4Lmo/s1600/078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RWL7Eka8x5g/TpxzJTSMppI/AAAAAAAABvA/BpNUeHU4Lmo/s400/078.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ks6NvcvzkrU/TpxzJpKlMxI/AAAAAAAABvI/tc_2U45sjCU/s1600/079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ks6NvcvzkrU/TpxzJpKlMxI/AAAAAAAABvI/tc_2U45sjCU/s400/079.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vFoMQzV0wzY/TpxzJ2NBfQI/AAAAAAAABvQ/4YolVNuy1WY/s1600/089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vFoMQzV0wzY/TpxzJ2NBfQI/AAAAAAAABvQ/4YolVNuy1WY/s400/089.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love shots like this, illustrating the inherent magic of adolescence.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J9wac4LAVjs/Tpxy7cotj6I/AAAAAAAABuw/q_zpVCTeuUs/s1600/070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J9wac4LAVjs/Tpxy7cotj6I/AAAAAAAABuw/q_zpVCTeuUs/s400/070.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://kphoto13.blogspot.com/">photo credit</a>, edited by korah</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P3UE16BM33M/TpxzJJ3Oz3I/AAAAAAAABu4/SuT7IROp1ew/s1600/077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P3UE16BM33M/TpxzJJ3Oz3I/AAAAAAAABu4/SuT7IROp1ew/s400/077.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://kphoto13.blogspot.com/">photo credit</a>, edited by korah</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
</div></div></div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-52626711273081614622011-10-11T19:25:00.000-07:002011-12-28T20:48:03.303-08:00Eight, By the Sea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who wanted to see the ocean for her eighth birthday. So she got on a bus with her friends, paid the fare (one sand dollar) and took off.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eL-LJd4xy8g/TvtID-Tj7xI/AAAAAAAACH4/Lderp5sru48/s1600/DSCN5247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eL-LJd4xy8g/TvtID-Tj7xI/AAAAAAAACH4/Lderp5sru48/s640/DSCN5247.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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BEEP! BEEP! "Next stop: Oysterville," said the bus driver.</div>
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Unfortunately, the bus couldn't take them all the way to the water. "Schools of fish are always trying to get on for a field trip," the bus driver explained, "and they are far too soggy.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ycs5SXWpDic/TvtIaJn2TDI/AAAAAAAACJk/329w0Q9WnGM/s1600/DSCN5326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ycs5SXWpDic/TvtIaJn2TDI/AAAAAAAACJk/329w0Q9WnGM/s640/DSCN5326.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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So the friends had to walk the rest of the way to the beach.</div>
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"But where IS it? We must explore!"</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tsm-PUSJCGk/TvtJ1_vCiXI/AAAAAAAACKY/5UILvDFZ76Q/s1600/081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tsm-PUSJCGk/TvtJ1_vCiXI/AAAAAAAACKY/5UILvDFZ76Q/s640/081.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Finally, through the tall grass, they saw some seagulls and heard the crashing of waves.</div>
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"There it is!" cried Taylor. "The OCEAN!"</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nb3QgZDZu_8/TvtJ1SblOhI/AAAAAAAACKQ/a46C_pa5hUk/s1600/078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nb3QgZDZu_8/TvtJ1SblOhI/AAAAAAAACKQ/a46C_pa5hUk/s640/078.JPG" width="451" /></a></div>
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Morgen was delighted!</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9l3xnYmt2Bs/TvtJ2CeSqsI/AAAAAAAACKg/T2w0_OfadnM/s1600/234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9l3xnYmt2Bs/TvtJ2CeSqsI/AAAAAAAACKg/T2w0_OfadnM/s640/234.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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She immediately waded into the ocean's shore...</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LLxowrdYTMM/TvtJ2vJqeTI/AAAAAAAACKo/tTK-9TAR7-g/s1600/237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LLxowrdYTMM/TvtJ2vJqeTI/AAAAAAAACKo/tTK-9TAR7-g/s640/237.JPG" width="464" /></a></div>
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...only to find it FREEZING cold, so she jumped right out and into the air!</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-THreTLUWpwM/TvtV_V5eRKI/AAAAAAAACLE/VVKwEbLrVCs/s1600/076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-THreTLUWpwM/TvtV_V5eRKI/AAAAAAAACLE/VVKwEbLrVCs/s640/076.JPG" width="540" /></a></div>
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Micah was still trying to find his way through the tall grass....</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WsELGb9zSgo/TvtV-SXoDLI/AAAAAAAACK0/VnVH1QB1UEY/s1600/073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WsELGb9zSgo/TvtV-SXoDLI/AAAAAAAACK0/VnVH1QB1UEY/s640/073.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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(...he thought it tickled his nose...)</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K54eRozT6ho/TvtV-_z9YgI/AAAAAAAACK8/vnZP86JP9pE/s1600/074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K54eRozT6ho/TvtV-_z9YgI/AAAAAAAACK8/vnZP86JP9pE/s640/074.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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...until Taylor found him and showed him the way out!</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XfYnYeGvD5Y/TvtV_5lJgQI/AAAAAAAACLM/8_vQ3PL-ew4/s1600/239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XfYnYeGvD5Y/TvtV_5lJgQI/AAAAAAAACLM/8_vQ3PL-ew4/s640/239.JPG" width="456" /></a></div>
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Feeling the cold water, Micah exclaimed, "I'm going to be BRAVE!" He hiked up his shorts and ran straight into the oncoming surf. What a brave little boy, indeed!</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T4Q1DXfofys/TvtZs2FKnlI/AAAAAAAACLY/xCArWXMc0_w/s1600/122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T4Q1DXfofys/TvtZs2FKnlI/AAAAAAAACLY/xCArWXMc0_w/s640/122.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Their big sister apprehensively watched from up in the tall grass. She wasn't sure she wanted to venture into that cold, cold water with her siblings.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_MXMrD3gsjc/TvtZtQzUnYI/AAAAAAAACLg/1afeNGUFw_8/s1600/127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_MXMrD3gsjc/TvtZtQzUnYI/AAAAAAAACLg/1afeNGUFw_8/s640/127.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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But the salty ocean air, the sound of seagulls and the water crashing onto the sand exhilarated her senses until she couldn't help but to come out of hiding.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ED0sQqurCE/TvtZt7wLu1I/AAAAAAAACLk/t96VUXnGiRA/s1600/130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ED0sQqurCE/TvtZt7wLu1I/AAAAAAAACLk/t96VUXnGiRA/s640/130.JPG" width="436" /></a></div>
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She paused momentarily, as if to unknowingly reflect the Birth of Venus itself...</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GBNqltnR3S8/TvtfdP2kzJI/AAAAAAAACMQ/7OI66xBCF6c/s1600/133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GBNqltnR3S8/TvtfdP2kzJI/AAAAAAAACMQ/7OI66xBCF6c/s640/133.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r3elDeOOnRA/TvtZuksxK6I/AAAAAAAACL0/5VJJ9rNsey4/s1600/IMG_0566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="370" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r3elDeOOnRA/TvtZuksxK6I/AAAAAAAACL0/5VJJ9rNsey4/s640/IMG_0566.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...and lept for joy into the frigid surf!</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YSeIEXNK1f4/Tvtfno08LHI/AAAAAAAACMc/Z8PM6uuXj3c/s1600/186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YSeIEXNK1f4/Tvtfno08LHI/AAAAAAAACMc/Z8PM6uuXj3c/s640/186.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Korah was very pleased to be at the ocean's edge.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DOUOsEmNwXk/TvtZuQqKMmI/AAAAAAAACLs/UNFR6zWEUNk/s1600/218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DOUOsEmNwXk/TvtZuQqKMmI/AAAAAAAACLs/UNFR6zWEUNk/s640/218.JPG" width="468" /></a></div>
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Back and forth, back and forth, they ran with the tide....</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U9fPLCNatpg/TvtfAI0n7oI/AAAAAAAACME/8u5m6HhwKJo/s1600/273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U9fPLCNatpg/TvtfAI0n7oI/AAAAAAAACME/8u5m6HhwKJo/s640/273.JPG" width="483" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...until it was time to line up and travel back from whence they came.</div>
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It was time for some birthday cake!</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Opo0zSbpaL8/TvtgLL-aMGI/AAAAAAAACMo/wT9jPWxaEnw/s1600/DSCN5279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Opo0zSbpaL8/TvtgLL-aMGI/AAAAAAAACMo/wT9jPWxaEnw/s640/DSCN5279.JPG" width="372" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">HAPPY 8TH BIRTHDAY, MORGEN!</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Editor's note: it's amazing to me that I can lay down the strangest-looking cakes, <i>so far</i> from my cake-decorating fantasies, and all the children <i>ooo</i> and <i>ahhh</i>, salivating with forks poised at the ready. Maybe it's because cake is such a novely around here, or maybe it's because children have simple, joyful hearts and I ought to take a lesson. Either way... they heal my perfectionist spirit with their cheerful ones.)</span></div>
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Two things to notice here: one, that Noble is apparently trying to put cake directly into his stomach, thereby fitting his entire fist into his mouth. And secondly, notice the little friend in the foreground. Morgen and her school pal she brought along, found these fuzzy little guys and invited them to the party!</div>
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"We're here!"</div>
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<i>Hmph. Party crashers.</i></div>
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Taylor always writes the funniest cards.</div>
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Then... how do you burn off a sugar high when it's dark and rainy outside and you're stuck inside a beach house? STAIR SURFING!</div>
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This is where mommy turns a blind eye. It looks like someone's ankle is about to break here.</div>
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This is a laughing face, believe it or not.</div>
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They've never had so much fun smooshing into each other!</div>
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One last family photo around the birthday girl before we leave.</div>
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You are so loved, Morgen-girl! May God bless you big, this ninth year of life!</div>
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<br /></div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0Ocean Park, WA 98640, USA46.4914875 -124.050162846.469623999999996 -124.0896448 46.513351 -124.01068079999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-44170097212091519312011-10-10T13:51:00.000-07:002011-12-19T15:14:38.113-08:00Historic Oysterville<br />
As a trade for 7 hours of mural painting, I got to take my family to a beach house in Oysterville, WA, where I spent two days cooking Morgen's favorite foods and making birthday cake and cleaning and....<br />
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Wait. I never saw the beach! It's a good thing I find deep fulfillment in serving my family, because that was a lot of work. I'll stop talking now and just show you some photos, because I'm starting to feel like I need a vacation.<br />
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<b>1854:</b> Abraham Lincoln is President. Henry David Thoreau publishes <a href="http://thoreau.eserver.org/walden00.html">Walden</a>. And a little town perfect for harvesting oysters is founded.</div>
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<b>1892:</b> Basketball becomes an official competitive sport and Grover Cleveland is elected President.<br />
I'll bet he ate oysters.</div>
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Only next to the sea would a moss so pretty grow to cover everything with it's soft and dreamy veil.</div>
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Them's a lot of oyster shells.</div>
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And a little trip to Jack's Country Store for some birthday ice cream. They have pretty much anything you might need in a pinch, and cool, retro candy and gum, like Clove and Black Jack. I got some Dots to put on Morgen's cake...I've never been much of a candy eater, but what's with candy buttons? What a dumb candy. Pretty, but dumb. Let's just say we ate a lot of paper.</div>
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We decided to visit this old cemetery to see what history we could find there.</div>
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Have some time on your hands? You could research why Chief Nahcati was buried in the Oysterille Cemetery instead of in Nahcotta. Maybe Nahcotta came after 1864.</div>
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I love this: boulder as headstone. This is what I want. After my viking funeral. Somebody notarize that.</div>
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And then, because my kids absolutely love the potential of a ghost story, we had to stop on the way out and take a photo of this "not-in-Kansas-anymore" house. They made up all kinds of stories about it's history and we quickly sped away when they could've sworn they saw someone behind the curtains:</div>
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<i>Oooo, spooky!!</i><br />
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Coming up next: Morgen's 8th birthday and a day at the beach!whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-54784517595859594562011-10-03T22:17:00.001-07:002011-10-14T16:06:05.557-07:00That's It, I Give Up. (Okay, maybe not...)<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BAS8DmwR3ps/TpX70PD39pI/AAAAAAAABq4/w5UiH3GLTBw/s1600/055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BAS8DmwR3ps/TpX70PD39pI/AAAAAAAABq4/w5UiH3GLTBw/s400/055.JPG" width="300" /></a>Um... hey. How's it goin'?<br />
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I've been purposely <i>not-prioritizing</i> showing up here because I feel like <a href="http://vonderhaus.blogspot.com/2011/09/words.html">my last post</a> needed a proper follow-up. When you put your hopes out there on the internet and things go so terribly different, as I see it you have three options:<br />
1) Shut it down and pretend it never happened.<br />
2) Keep up a facade that your character consists only of sugar and spice and everything nice<br />
3) You can tell the ugly truth and move on.<br />
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To complicate blogging motivation, I also have this irrational fear that if I put anything sweet and lovely out into the interwebs, that someone will perceive me as ...well, sweet and lovely, perpetuating the "perfect mom" myth. Gross. I want no part in such fallacy. Plus, I am no good at hiding my faults. If I put on make-up, I will have a booger on my face. If I put on a white shirt, I will immediately spill coffee on it. I'm much safer being proudly broken, bathing in grace!<br />
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So all I remember about that day-- the one where I was so pumped up to speak <i>words that heal</i> to my children, the one where I even <i>prayed</i> for God to set a guard over my mouth-- was that a couple of hours into it, something gurgled up inside of me, zero-to-sixty from nowhere at all, and flew out of my mouth so fast that I didn't even know it was happening. Are you ready for this? I screamed<i> F----YOU! </i>at my daughter. [Gasp! Shock! Horror!]<br />
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That doesn't mean I shouldn't have written that post. It encouraged at least one person, and it's a reminder to me as well. I am better for having written that down, making it more a part of me. But just in case you have ever let swords and daggers and dragon breath fly out of your mouth instead of rainbows, hearts and unicorn farts (that one was for the 10-year old) I want to be the one to tell you that <b>you're not alone</b>...and, it SUCKS! It sucks that I did that, that I get so uptight and furious and stressed out and let #$%^@* fly out of my mouth!<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="heading passage-class-0" style="margin-top: 10px;"><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">"It happens so regularly that it's predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question?" </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">--ro. 7.21-24 the message</span></i></span></blockquote></div>So what are we to do? It's discouraging.<br />
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But wait; I remember one more thing about that day. An apology. A humiliating admittance of defeat on a day that started off with such good intentions. The healing of relationship between mother and daughter. In the end, the answer to the question is that it is <b><i>me</i></b> who has to accept the hand of Jesus, <i>me</i> who has to let grace lift me off the ground, then dust myself off and trudge onward, red-cheeked and humbled.<br />
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Even when I don't know where I'm going next...<br />
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<b>Readers: Have you experienced grace in Parenting? Care to share in the comments?</b>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-42499098411861713912011-09-26T23:31:00.000-07:002011-12-12T00:19:25.647-08:00Under the SeaThis month I had a ridiculously awesome offer given to me by <a href="http://milagrosboutique.com/">Milagros Boutique</a> <i>(the best mama & baby boutique in P-town, baby!)</i>: to re-paint their play area! Welllll.... alls I do is sit around dreaming up crazy murals in my own house (the baby's room is East-coast sand dunes, and there's a half-finished stork in our hall (for about 3+ years now). See?) so this was a no-brainer!<br />
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I took Taylor with me and all the paint I could find. A few sketches and almost 7 hours later (woah, that's like...a <i><b>workday!</b></i>) and we've got an underwater adventure!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the last minute I found gold paint in my stash,<br />
so I had to add some <i>bling</i> to the mermaid's attire.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy looks like he's going to open up any second and offer you a pearl!</td></tr>
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This was so incredibly fun! I loved taking Taylor with me. He primed with me and helped with some larger color blocks, but mostly he just kept me company, washed brushes, ran errands. He was my excuse to get dessert from the French restaurant next door. It was so LIFE-giving to me to paint like this, and I haven't painted in acrylics, much less painted at all since I got my job as a MOM....you know how it goes. Well, maybe you don't. Maybe you have had a well-rounded life of fulfilling your potential. But for me, this is a walking-in-the-right-direction, and it feels great! The best part is that I got to trade for time at their beach house. More on that to come....<br />
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Meanwhile, maybe it's time I finished that stork.whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-75897069032293680062011-09-15T22:55:00.000-07:002011-12-28T20:30:09.235-08:00First Day of School 2011/12<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Did you know? Four out of five kids are in full-day school these days!</div>
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7th, 5th, 2nd and 1st...whoo-whee! That's a lot of school supplies!</div>
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Just for comparison, here's a picture from last year:</div>
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Aww, look at my little buzzed buddies.</div>
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Noble can't get used to this full day of school for Micah.</div>
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Every day around lunch he asks me, "where Mah-cah?"</div>
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He's in school with his little Waldorf lunch basket!</div>
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Micah's excited about his big-kid desk, I think.</div>
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It's all old-hat to Morgen now. She's excited that her desk has a little cubby for her crayon pouch and stuff. Stuff like balls of wax and little sticks and pebbles. She's a collector.</div>
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Here's me distracting my hyper little monkey while we wait for the 1st grade Rose Ceremony to begin. The Waldorf Tradition does this to welcome the 1st graders into the Grades, as opposed to having a Kindergarten Graduation at the end of last year.</div>
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Micah hands me his rose as he is escorted back to his classroom by an 8th-grade buddy. The 8th graders participate as leaders in the school, as this will be their last year here.</div>
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"Been there, done that!" Morgen's just happy as a clam today!</div>
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Have fun at school, guys! Like Papa used to say to me, "Learn lots of things today!"</div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-3156562851690458832011-09-02T08:28:00.000-07:002011-09-02T08:28:46.639-07:00Words<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UyCZUN8SlCk/TmD0ShtuWlI/AAAAAAAABqA/WmucpAZ5Osk/s1600/March+2011+047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UyCZUN8SlCk/TmD0ShtuWlI/AAAAAAAABqA/WmucpAZ5Osk/s400/March+2011+047.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>It's almost 8am and no one is awake! Except me, of course. Is it because I want everyone to get back on a school-schedule? We would have to be leaving the house by now. Is it because David is taking a personal day to work on the attic dormer, and he's still in bed, too? Even though he sneaks away every morning, the house seems to have an unsettling when he's gone, and the children never sleep in very long after he leaves. I could leave and come back at noon and those beds will still be warm!<br />
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My reader seems to be carrying a theme this morning, and when life throws me a theme, I figure I'd better listen up. Today's theme is: WORDS.<br />
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Grace words.<br />
Words that heal.<br />
Words that make children feel strong.<br />
Words that give thanks.<br />
Words that give life!<br />
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Because words can bring death. I have brought more death than life with my words in my lifetime, I am sure of it. If you have been the recipient of my death-words, please forgive me. I <i>know</i> I am learning to keep quiet when I am <i>tired</i> and <i>hurt</i> and my tongue wants to barf out all kinds of maladies, but I still have a long way to go!<br />
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Today I am printing out (and I mean by hand! We don't have a printer, lol!) Ann Voskamp's <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/09/wrap-them-in-love-free-printable-verse-sandwich-wrapper/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+HolyExperience+%28Holy+Experience%29">Manifesto for Joyful Parenting</a>. What a good thing to move towards as the harried, early school mornings quickly approach!<br />
And today I am praying,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+141:2-4&version=NIV"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Set a guard over my mouth, Lord. Keep watch over the door of my lips!"</span></a></div><br />
Speak well, today!whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-26902874959763975662011-08-29T12:08:00.000-07:002011-12-26T18:06:27.190-08:00Thirty-eight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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David lucks out with a birthday in August, when the weather's nice and we're all ready for some fun, and no one else is stealing your birthday thunder (everyone else in our family is two weeks from someone else). And what's more, my parents were visiting this August, and got to celebrate with us! (I am ashamed to say that these are the best photos I have of them on their visit. My photographic priorities are defunct!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Papa says, "it looks like I have ice-cream on my lip!"</i></td></tr>
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I don't have pictures of the hilarity, but we went bowling/video game playing at <a href="http://www.ilovebigals.com/vancouver/">Big Al's</a>. That place is a ton of fun. I fulfilled a life-long dream of being on Wheel of Fortune, and Noble spent the entire time standing on some driving game that took your photo. Morgen and Micah were in an air-hockey playoff and Taylor and Korah were doing their own thing, which has something to do with pooling their resources to end up with the biggest bag o' loot from the prize counter. Dave played Rockband. <i>For like, an hour</i>. So basically, we all got what we wanted for Dave's birthday.</div>
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We came home and had ice cream cake made by yours truly (awesome, that job at Baskin Robbins is still paying off!) and quick-like I made a card, since I didn't have a real birthday gift:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>it's all meaningful and symbolic to us, and stuff</i></td></tr>
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Actually, David worked hard to get his own killer birthday present this year, painstakingly dialing his phone, digit after digit, until at last.... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">HE WON TICKETS TO <a href="http://decemberists.com/">THE DECEMBERISTS</a></span> from <a href="http://kink.fm/pages/main">Kink.fm</a>! <i>And</i> a gift certificate to Ringside Fish House! This guy knows how to win 'em!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"...and <b>I'm</b> reaping <b>all</b> the benefits..."</i><br />
(name that movie)</td></tr>
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I liked the Decemberists before, but now....oh, live music, it's what you do to me... now we are FANS. This was a special show for a few reasons:</div>
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<li>It was the last show of the tour. There seemed to be a goofy energy that came with that....so fun!</li>
<li>Since they are from the Portland area, it was a homecoming of sorts and they had tons of family, friends, local fanship and familiar McMenamins Brews to celebrate.</li>
<li>Their beautiful keyboardist Jenny Conlee, who missed the tour to stay home and fight breast cancer, was performing in all her bald-headed, Doc-Martined glory! Yay, Jenny!!</li>
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We are undeniably blessed. As crazy and chaotic as our life can be, good things just keep on happening, and we have to make note, make note, make note: we are loved.</div>
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HAPPY 38th BIRTHDAY, DAVID! YOU ARE LOVED!</div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-56526986492633603152011-08-17T16:35:00.000-07:002011-08-17T16:57:19.206-07:00Gnocchi at Sunset<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-85-BbdsiNCY/TkxJnhP9CLI/AAAAAAAABpo/QCMw253M_B8/s1600/DSCN4966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-85-BbdsiNCY/TkxJnhP9CLI/AAAAAAAABpo/QCMw253M_B8/s400/DSCN4966.JPG" width="300" /></a><br />
<i>A Poem for Febe</i><br />
<br />
I close my eyes and try<br />
to make the traffic sound<br />
like waves. The games of kids<br />
pretending is the same,<br />
<br />
Without the element<br />
of magic that comes from<br />
friends<br />
and salty air<br />
<br />
And gnocchi-making to<br />
a rainbow sunset.<br />
The gift of respite, on<br />
the job, was burned into<br />
<br />
My senses with the smell<br />
of bubbles in the bath,<br />
the ocean rolling in,<br />
the blue and orange and gold.<br />
<br />
Inspiring me to try<br />
a poem with my hands,<br />
to keep on making art<br />
with my whole life.<br />
<br />
Your laugh is balm to my<br />
encumbered spirit and<br />
so glad am I that you<br />
are my friend, mi amiga.<br />
<br />
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whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-63104942631131022872011-08-12T15:43:00.000-07:002011-08-12T21:50:53.337-07:00GF Cinnamon Rolls<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mtAQeO9BGlc/TkWiudssjvI/AAAAAAAABpc/3f4gTQZxdhw/s1600/DSCN4960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mtAQeO9BGlc/TkWiudssjvI/AAAAAAAABpc/3f4gTQZxdhw/s640/DSCN4960.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://glutenfreegirl.com/gluten-free-cinnamon-rolls/">Gluten-Free Cinnamon Rolls with Creme-Fraiche Icing</a></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I used to be all like,<i> "omigosh cinnamon rolls are my favorite food!" </i>and then we went all <i>gluten-freek</i> and I felt so much better I just kinda wrote off bread altogether. Plus, you know, you can't be eating cinnamon rolls if you are even the slightest bit interested in losing 10 years worth of baby weight...<br />
<br />
Anyway, the other day I happened to have this bag of cinnamon-sugar laying around from a donut project I did with the kids at church, and I didn't want to just throw it away. It seemed to me that an attempt at <b>gluten-free cinnamon rolls</b> was the obvious and inevitable solution. In haste I googled "gluten-free cinnamon rolls" and perused a few recipes, but ended up at one of my staple websites for all things GF, <a href="http://glutenfreegirl.com/gluten-free-cinnamon-rolls/">Gluten-free Girl and the Chef.</a><br />
<br />
I love that Shauna uses weight to measure her flours, and she explains why on her very informative blog. I'm mostly excited for a chance to weigh stuff on my cute little kitchen scale! For this recipe we substituted the Bob's Red Mill GF All Purpose Baking Flour, because we didn't have almond flour and we are avoiding corn for sensitivity issues. The rest was pretty easy, but it takes all day with mixing, rising, rolling, filling, rolling, rising again, interspersed with going to the park for lunch, doing 4 loads of laundry, cleaning rooms, putting the baby down for a nap, drawing a comic strip and giving the dog a walk. Luckily, Taylor was helping...cooking (and all that life-living!) is always more fun with a little buddy.<br />
<br />
I also happened to have a bag of powdered sugar from the same donut project. This sealed the cinnamon roll idea because powdered sugar, when it's not being sprinkled on <a href="http://vonderhaus.blogspot.com/2011/08/bleskiver-day-2011.html">Aebleskivers</a> or donuts, is begging to be made into icing!* And get this: I didn't have any cream cheese on hand, but I just so happened to have some Creme Fraiche. Three cheers for Creme Fraiche! <i>...OOO! ...LA! ...LA!</i><br />
<br />
Well, not so accidental on the Creme Fraiche. I'm going to muster another attempt at a home-made mac'n'cheese that Morgen (the Mac'n'Cheese snob of the family) will approve of.<br />
<br />
Lots of amazing smells later, this is what we (literally) ate for dinner last night:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FOqaxZEF6oA/TkWixLkys0I/AAAAAAAABpg/6UGIooapWZo/s1600/DSCN4959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FOqaxZEF6oA/TkWixLkys0I/AAAAAAAABpg/6UGIooapWZo/s640/DSCN4959.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>The recipe made fourteeen delicious cinnamon rolls. Enough for everyone to have one for breakfast the next day! I would love a softer, squishier dough, but they were pretty good. I might be more about the sugar these days anyway... mmm-mmmm!<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>*I know I just mentioned a corn-sensitivity and then said we were making icing from powdered sugar, which has cornstarch in it! It's more of a thing we avoid unless we must. eat. icing. If you know of a powdered sugar that is not made with cornstarch (there must be <u>something</u> out there???) please let me know!</i>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-62814310901410092042011-08-05T19:53:00.000-07:002011-08-05T19:53:02.891-07:00Æbleskiver Day 2011<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F6ZcvCRLxDc/Tjx9ZgkhLcI/AAAAAAAABow/kvyQJ01TG14/s1600/DSCN4852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F6ZcvCRLxDc/Tjx9ZgkhLcI/AAAAAAAABow/kvyQJ01TG14/s320/DSCN4852.JPG" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Grandma was a pioneer in<br />
Enterostomal Therapy Nursing</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Happy Æbleskiver Day! Today would've been my Grandma's 90th birthday, and every year we make Æbleskivers to celebrate. Æbleskivers are a Dutch pancake, made in a special cast iron pan and my Grandma loved 'em. I told you all about my Grandma Cat <a href="http://vonderhaus.blogspot.com/2009/08/aebleskiver-day.html">two years ago</a> on her birthday. She was born in 1921 and lived a tough life before she settled in as the Enterostomal Therapy Nurse I knew her as. Both of her parents died before she was 10 years old, she lived through the Great Depression, was a nurse in WWII, and became a widow at 48, just when the post-child-rearing fun was about to begin. She volunteered tirelessly for the Cancer Society, and till the day she died was making friends and we have hundreds of photos and Christmas cards to prove it. She saved every photo and letter I sent her, and now I only wish I'd written her more. There's something about writing your grandma a letter; you know she wants to know everything you have to say, no matter how trivial. And she loved my handwriting, which also encouraged me to write. If you are reading this, do yourself a favor and find a grandma to write letters to.<br />
<br />
This year, since we are making Gluten-free Æbleskivers, I figured I'd not only post the recipe, but I'd do it food-blogger style. I want to start making my own GF all-purpose flour mix, but I haven't reached that level of gluten-free baking preparedness yet, so it's good ol' Bob and his Red Mill to the rescue.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gNpEIZWUS8U/Tjx9DCUCIII/AAAAAAAABoU/JajWhv-Bu6Q/s1600/DSCN4817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gNpEIZWUS8U/Tjx9DCUCIII/AAAAAAAABoU/JajWhv-Bu6Q/s640/DSCN4817.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's what you'll need:</div><blockquote>2 1/2 cups Bob's Red Mill GF All Purpose Baking Flour<br />
1/2 tsp plus 1/8tsp (or about 2/3tsp) Xanthan Gum<br />
1/2 tsp salt<br />
1 1/4 tsp baking soda<br />
3/4 tsp baking powder<br />
2 cups buttermilk (or like I do, 2Tbs lemon juice and milk to make 2 cups)<br />
2 eggs, separated -- BEAT the egg whites and set aside<br />
3 Tbs butter, melted</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GrWrhLfb7ks/Tjx9IX4mB2I/AAAAAAAABoc/6NuyDLG-7vg/s1600/DSCN4824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GrWrhLfb7ks/Tjx9IX4mB2I/AAAAAAAABoc/6NuyDLG-7vg/s640/DSCN4824.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Sift all the dry ingredients together. GF flours seem to be more dense than wheat flour, and when sifted, seem to be a little more than what I measured. I can't spare any stress for these things; if it's too thick, I'll add milk later.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WvgDxnteuK4/Tjx9L3gzm2I/AAAAAAAABog/YqLrDY81BCc/s1600/DSCN4826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WvgDxnteuK4/Tjx9L3gzm2I/AAAAAAAABog/YqLrDY81BCc/s640/DSCN4826.JPG" width="640" /></a></div> Beat the egg yolks and add to the milk. Stir into the dry mixture.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gft75Dr7hvc/Tjx9PnXjwfI/AAAAAAAABok/poUmoKofC5c/s1600/DSCN4828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gft75Dr7hvc/Tjx9PnXjwfI/AAAAAAAABok/poUmoKofC5c/s640/DSCN4828.JPG" width="640" /></a></div> Stir in the melted butter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oslEqbnl7vs/Tjx9TL1xKSI/AAAAAAAABoo/480VDJ5HEQg/s1600/DSCN4830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oslEqbnl7vs/Tjx9TL1xKSI/AAAAAAAABoo/480VDJ5HEQg/s640/DSCN4830.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Fold in the beaten egg whites.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oBv_Ehel21A/TjyZaIbXBOI/AAAAAAAABpU/fPLyiqAZgQ8/s1600/DSCN4831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="494" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oBv_Ehel21A/TjyZaIbXBOI/AAAAAAAABpU/fPLyiqAZgQ8/s640/DSCN4831.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Heat the pan on medium and drizzle a little melted butter into the holes. I suppose you could use some low-cal spray, but where's the fun in that?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8d6eH_wWauY/Tjx9WfNhJ4I/AAAAAAAABos/VFTcpFVxLm0/s1600/DSCN4834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8d6eH_wWauY/Tjx9WfNhJ4I/AAAAAAAABos/VFTcpFVxLm0/s640/DSCN4834.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Do as I say, not as I do: fill the holes with batter to the top, or you won't end up with nice round kugels.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUjkIplX4h8/TjyWqAQHtQI/AAAAAAAABo4/QoQG6Z5_Yys/s1600/DSCN4835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="554" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUjkIplX4h8/TjyWqAQHtQI/AAAAAAAABo4/QoQG6Z5_Yys/s640/DSCN4835.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When they start to puff up and rise a little, and look like they are starting to set --oh, who am I kidding? I don't know how to tell you when they're ready. I cook entirely by feel. Just feel it, baby. You'll know when it's time to flip. Just slide that knitting needle down the side and around the bottom of the hole until you've flipped the darn thing. It might take some practice...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x2h8WpO0AUU/TjyWrj-1-VI/AAAAAAAABo8/z9atlYYJAlk/s1600/DSCN4836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x2h8WpO0AUU/TjyWrj-1-VI/AAAAAAAABo8/z9atlYYJAlk/s640/DSCN4836.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OS3FtpsR6Ww/TjyWtmkIrEI/AAAAAAAABpA/6El4RxqkAe4/s1600/DSCN4837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OS3FtpsR6Ww/TjyWtmkIrEI/AAAAAAAABpA/6El4RxqkAe4/s640/DSCN4837.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...and as you can see, I use a fork to help things along.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1M8QE4OHRG8/TjyWwQB5uDI/AAAAAAAABpE/7g-LTx9d4t0/s1600/DSCN4840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1M8QE4OHRG8/TjyWwQB5uDI/AAAAAAAABpE/7g-LTx9d4t0/s640/DSCN4840.JPG" width="640" /></a></div> Once again, if you fill them up all the way, you'll have nice, round kugeln (that would be German for "balls" because I didn't want to say "nice round balls," I'm not ...sure ...why ...maybe because there's an eternal twelve-year old living in my head? Anyway, kugeln reminds me of how my friends and I ordered ice cream in Switzerland, c.1994).<br />
<br />
This takes some time, seven kugeln every seven minutes or so... so meanwhile, send your kids out to gather blackberries. Because it's August, and they're ready!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ftGCCaDJTgY/TjyWziA78sI/AAAAAAAABpI/NtKSTIEx3cU/s1600/DSCN4846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ftGCCaDJTgY/TjyWziA78sI/AAAAAAAABpI/NtKSTIEx3cU/s640/DSCN4846.JPG" width="480" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; clear: left; color: black; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; clear: left; color: black; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">And because it's tradition to pick wild berries with Aunt Renee. The minute we know she's coming, our mouths start watering and we grab our gathering bowls.</span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kIYV4_LRjsc/TjyW3oFYcaI/AAAAAAAABpM/vAzc-uAjGSM/s1600/DSCN4847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kIYV4_LRjsc/TjyW3oFYcaI/AAAAAAAABpM/vAzc-uAjGSM/s640/DSCN4847.JPG" width="640" /></a></div> Dust on a snowstorm of powdered sugar...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NwUHaO2QV2o/TjyW8EHEZHI/AAAAAAAABpQ/zMn2j_GtaVE/s1600/DSCN4849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NwUHaO2QV2o/TjyW8EHEZHI/AAAAAAAABpQ/zMn2j_GtaVE/s640/DSCN4849.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RF8YcXFScr0/Tjx9FndIxaI/AAAAAAAABoY/gVqncuOqruQ/s1600/DSCN4823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RF8YcXFScr0/Tjx9FndIxaI/AAAAAAAABoY/gVqncuOqruQ/s640/DSCN4823.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>...don't forget a smattering of jams, and if you're from my Grandma's side of the family, Key Lime Curd...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U3hzTG1wtmI/Tjyimil2o-I/AAAAAAAABpY/4ydVnUENB4c/s1600/DSCN4851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="466" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U3hzTG1wtmI/Tjyimil2o-I/AAAAAAAABpY/4ydVnUENB4c/s640/DSCN4851.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
....and yell, <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>"HAPPY ÆBLESKIVER DAY!"</i></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And by the way, this was my Grandma in WWII:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MV-P10juPkE/Tjx8hgrZriI/AAAAAAAABoQ/QpJk_-9pARY/s1600/DSCN4853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MV-P10juPkE/Tjx8hgrZriI/AAAAAAAABoQ/QpJk_-9pARY/s640/DSCN4853.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sharp, yes?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And her husband, whom I never got to meet, but whose middle name I share:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_441923532"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DxfWklwx414/Tjx9ckX2WnI/AAAAAAAABo0/Ix3fMuKBe5c/s640/DSCN4855.JPG" width="474" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><i>Hello, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000015/">James Dean</a>!</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">He looks like a pretty cool cat, don'tcha think? I wish I could have known him, and known he and my grandma together. Willard 'n Janet. I hear they had a lot of fun, in their own little way. :)</span></div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-59266467817770600432011-08-03T21:54:00.000-07:002011-08-04T15:01:44.892-07:00Bicycle Dating<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0lHMjdcP2LE/TjolMt8dvGI/AAAAAAAABoM/48jFSB1lBP4/s1600/DSCN4303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0lHMjdcP2LE/TjolMt8dvGI/AAAAAAAABoM/48jFSB1lBP4/s400/DSCN4303.JPG" width="400" /></a>For the record --because that's what this is for-- thanks to my mom carting four of the kids away to have hotel room/jumping on the bed/swimming pool fun for the night, David and I got to go on a little bike ride date! Noble babbled away in his little bike seat, yelling "HI-EEE!" at everyone we passed. We took the scenic route and had dinner at some <a href="http://www.foodcartsportland.com/2011/07/25/istanbul-delight/">food carts</a>. Bummer, <a href="http://www.scooppdx.com/">Scoop</a> was out of Salted Caramel (the flavor you'll dream about), but that's okay. Riding home to the tune of cotton candy skies and white sliver-of-a-moon and the singing chatter of an ice-creamed toddler, we are feelin' the <i>Portlandia</i>. We are feeling blessed to spend this time together, refreshing our Selves....whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-87378677664845421942011-07-28T10:31:00.000-07:002011-07-28T10:36:42.715-07:00Preserved...For Preserves!We found this crazy wire contraption in the eves of our attic <a href="http://vonderhaus.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-is-it.html">the other day</a>, and didn't know what it was. But you guys did! You were right: it holds Mason Jars for canning, and I did indeed have it upside-down in my last post.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hnygY7Ba7I8/Ti53FUXCdjI/AAAAAAAABnA/0DUhaf2MkVg/s1600/DSCN4677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hnygY7Ba7I8/Ti53FUXCdjI/AAAAAAAABnA/0DUhaf2MkVg/s640/DSCN4677.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cRZvfQjA3ZE/Ti53HnG3-3I/AAAAAAAABnE/c5ld-giA_ek/s1600/DSCN4678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cRZvfQjA3ZE/Ti53HnG3-3I/AAAAAAAABnE/c5ld-giA_ek/s640/DSCN4678.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
So now I need to find a wacky oval pan and I can make a heckuva lotta jam! (That always makes me think of Monica's <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0583619/">Jam Plan</a></i> to get over her breakup with <strike>Magnum P.I.</strike> Richard.) Or wouldn't it be a cute holder of containers? I could fill them with silverware and flowers and things at a picnic! Or, I could do <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/51179940/mason-jar-chandelier-mason-jar-solar?ref=sr_gallery_3&ga_search_submit=&ga_search_query=canning+basket&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_facet=handmade">THIS</a>.<br />
<br />
I spent an hour looking all over the internet for one like it, and I only found small round canning racks, or single-jar holders. I haven't found any that are as large as this one. And by the way, there is a whole world of Mason Jar arts and craftiness that I find super-cool.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So my questions now are these:</span><br />
<br />
<ul><li>What was this doing in the walls of my attic?!?!</li>
<li>How the heck old is it??</li>
</ul><br />
<br />
I should show you some of the other cool stuff we've found in our centurial home.....whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-17282591709845579672011-07-25T23:28:00.000-07:002011-07-26T15:16:51.717-07:00So Here's What Happened<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QCh-2WmtBiA/Ti88r0F-B1I/AAAAAAAABnI/bPkOYOlNjWk/s1600/DSCN4632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QCh-2WmtBiA/Ti88r0F-B1I/AAAAAAAABnI/bPkOYOlNjWk/s320/DSCN4632.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Around five o'clock this morning, David and I sat bolt-upright in bed to the most sonorous rumbling we've ever heard. At least... I<i> thought</i> we were sitting up. I think we were just jerked into consciousness and were still laying there, staring into the dark. The traffic on the bridge behind our house is a constant white-noise for us, so we both thought a horrible accident had occurred. <i>A trash truck had driven off and crashed into the park below! The bridge itself was somehow coming undone, cable's ripping out of the ground for sure!</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"What. Was. THAT?" We were both sitting up in bed now. We realized it was thunder...and we had just torn a huge hole in our roof. We jumped out of bed and ran willy-nilly around the house; I'm not sure what we were doing. I went to the back door to see if it was raining and a light mist was coming down. I was about to stick my hand out to see how it felt when the air crackled and popped (yes, quite like Rice Crispies) the sky lit up with a<i> flash </i>and then <b><i>"BOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!"</i></b> Another tremendous rumbling of thunder! Now the dog was running in circles and I beamed like I'd just pulled up to the gates of Disneyland.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I ran to get my shoes on-- we had to get that hole covered; it was really starting to rain! By now 2 kids were in our bed and the dog was underneath it when David informed me we were out of tarps. We laughed at the irony of tearing off the roof because it was leaking, only for it to rain the very next day. We should know by now that when the weather report says sunny and 80's all week (no matter what the weather report says, really) in Portland that means "rain". Our only option seemed to be to haul our backyard <a href="http://www.homedepot.com/h_d1/N-5yc1v/R-202103287/h_d2/ProductDisplay?langId=-1&storeId=10051&catalogId=10053">canopy</a> up onto the roof.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">It was...ridiculous. Even the neighbor, who had thought we were being bombed, saw Dave on the roof in the rain and asked if he could come over and help. We finally got the awkward and useless canopy onto the roof (although Taylor and I feel a little victorious over that) and the rain had stopped! Neighbor-dude got a tarp from his house and he and Dave put it up, letting us know he's ready and willing to help us with anything else we need.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Seriously, we are blessed with the nicest neighbors. I once won an Ice Cream Block Party from Dreyers for an essay I wrote on "Why I Love My Neighborhood". It's just that great. My block, not my writing.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So here we are today, Father-and-Son Demo Team, under shelter of plastic.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0W4diPufrFo/Ti5qRACmBPI/AAAAAAAABmo/XQshT5CJOPo/s1600/DSCN4680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="505" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0W4diPufrFo/Ti5qRACmBPI/AAAAAAAABmo/XQshT5CJOPo/s640/DSCN4680.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v02_NZoI4C8/Ti5qULFXkrI/AAAAAAAABms/sTbhmFvUuRU/s1600/DSCN4686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v02_NZoI4C8/Ti5qULFXkrI/AAAAAAAABms/sTbhmFvUuRU/s640/DSCN4686.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Taylor (who's awesome) made these handy-dandy hammer-holders! This is not the best photo, but he was proud of those hammer-holders and I wanted to get them in the picture.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZXJoKJqpKMU/Ti5qW8F0beI/AAAAAAAABmw/-7YDJggaiXI/s1600/DSCN4687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZXJoKJqpKMU/Ti5qW8F0beI/AAAAAAAABmw/-7YDJggaiXI/s640/DSCN4687.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Nothing fills a boy with a sense of worth and purpose more than some good, hard work.</div><div style="text-align: center;">He spent all day alone with me (at Taco Hell and the grocery store and running errands), and only a couple of hours doing this with Dave. He comes up to me at bedtime and says,</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I had a good day today <i>with Daddy</i>."</div><div style="text-align: center;">(Hm. Chopped liver.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Where are the other boys, you ask?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pu4feyr1-T8/Ti5qZ4Veu4I/AAAAAAAABm0/0RKQXNcWt60/s1600/DSCN4690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pu4feyr1-T8/Ti5qZ4Veu4I/AAAAAAAABm0/0RKQXNcWt60/s640/DSCN4690.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I had the settings all wrong for this picture, but I had to take it quick before anything changed. I love finding my little guys just reading away amongst a scattering of literature.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">...and all our attic junk.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">...and a moose antler.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Alright Thunder & Lightening....bring it on!! Of course, now it will only be hot and sunny for the rest of the week.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Coming up.... the Weird-Wire-Cage-Thing-From-the-Attic-Eves mystery is SOLVED!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Stay tuned. (Riveting, I know....)</div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-13659836240277238672011-07-24T21:40:00.000-07:002011-07-24T21:42:13.601-07:00What Is It?We found this in our attic eves today:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LuMbxMTaZCs/TizqIwGPtmI/AAAAAAAABmQ/IqYYyWHs2tw/s1600/DSCN4659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LuMbxMTaZCs/TizqIwGPtmI/AAAAAAAABmQ/IqYYyWHs2tw/s640/DSCN4659.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Any idea what it is?<br />
<br />
Our house was built in 1907, and has been randomly modified in various ways ever since. So there's no telling if this dormer came with the original house, but it's time for this rickety, leaky bad-boy to go.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5RElQ1IGM2U/Tizv0jGL9aI/AAAAAAAABmU/-32MXR6Z3Mk/s1600/DSCN4627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5RElQ1IGM2U/Tizv0jGL9aI/AAAAAAAABmU/-32MXR6Z3Mk/s400/DSCN4627.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XRjZQzxz1gs/Tizv2vnunLI/AAAAAAAABmY/VmY5PUGqR-Q/s1600/DSCN4639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XRjZQzxz1gs/Tizv2vnunLI/AAAAAAAABmY/VmY5PUGqR-Q/s400/DSCN4639.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">DEMO-TIME!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lEy1VjyzRKg/Tizv5bBoENI/AAAAAAAABmc/hsFI91zId5g/s1600/DSCN4650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lEy1VjyzRKg/Tizv5bBoENI/AAAAAAAABmc/hsFI91zId5g/s640/DSCN4650.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Making progress! There was a nasty, fogged-up window here, with no ventilation except for these two wood flaps, through which --legend has it-- the previous owners' three-legged dog would climb out and bark at the neighbors. I also happen to know that racoons will crawl in those flaps and poop in your attic, too.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r7x7YbyYNW4/Tizv7FofhHI/AAAAAAAABmg/RE-2SwTsQLI/s1600/DSCN4653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r7x7YbyYNW4/Tizv7FofhHI/AAAAAAAABmg/RE-2SwTsQLI/s640/DSCN4653.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><blockquote><b>I am ecstatic to:</b><br />
a) see the sun<br />
b) smash something with the sledge hammer<br />
c) not be making food for someone<br />
d) all of the above</blockquote><br />
Seriously, if you know what that cage-thing is, tell us, please!<br />
<br />
I'll try and keep y'all up to date on what comes of this massive hole in our roof.whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4998319968408780556.post-62004629599745132442011-07-22T02:03:00.000-07:002011-07-23T18:17:34.727-07:00Naked and Unashamed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He starts off, you know, appropriately dressed...(usually). Like this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tVogcPNJafs/TiktNFpqJCI/AAAAAAAABlc/J2Gjap5Cw2I/s1600/DSCN4457+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tVogcPNJafs/TiktNFpqJCI/AAAAAAAABlc/J2Gjap5Cw2I/s400/DSCN4457+-+Copy.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He looks really excited for a fun-filled day at the beach, doesn't he?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-okdxsyxblcg/TikqWwORuqI/AAAAAAAABlU/IxVod9NDdSc/s1600/DSCN4499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-okdxsyxblcg/TikqWwORuqI/AAAAAAAABlU/IxVod9NDdSc/s400/DSCN4499.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But before long, one thing leads to another and this happens.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Emancipation!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e6eJidSgwB0/TikqR0Qe3-I/AAAAAAAABlM/wO04n89ZmCM/s1600/DSCN4484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e6eJidSgwB0/TikqR0Qe3-I/AAAAAAAABlM/wO04n89ZmCM/s400/DSCN4484.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When he's naked, he <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis%202.25&version=NIV">feels no shame</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He has not yet tasted of the tree of</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the knowledge of</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Good and Evil.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Everything is just...Good.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3UViPPRLDNo/Tikt0tF4RfI/AAAAAAAABlg/M5RFXPHdV0M/s1600/DSCN4486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3UViPPRLDNo/Tikt0tF4RfI/AAAAAAAABlg/M5RFXPHdV0M/s400/DSCN4486.JPG" width="356" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh yeah...I am SO not going back to <b>those</b> days!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">To have faith like a child.</div><div style="text-align: center;">To be naked and unashamed.</div><div style="text-align: center;">To not have to cater to the knowledge of evil</div><div style="text-align: center;">...constantly struggling with it's presence.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">In heaven we will all be clueless naked babies on the beach.</span><br />
<br />
That's right.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Minus the sunburn.<br />
Burns are for hell.</div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com3