tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88317559059778857742024-03-12T23:24:07.970-07:00Twists and TurnsTwists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-18585074281703243942013-11-11T15:35:00.000-08:002013-11-11T16:19:05.600-08:00VeteransVeteran's Day is a day of mixed emotion around here. I come from a long line of military: my grandfather was a Marine and a DI and a Korean War POW escapee, my father was a Marine at Camp David, my husband served the Navy for 13 years, my brother served in the Air Force for a decade and did three tours in Iraq, my cousin is practically ready for retirement from the Army. Not to mention the uncles who served in Vietnam and the many, many friends who are currently deployed in the Med, Saudi, Afghanistan, etc. I am so fiercely proud of each you.<br />
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You have served in peace and in war. You know what it is to miss birthdays and holidays, first days of schools and graduations. Perhaps you've even missed the birth of a child. Many of you have seen Death in the ugliest form it can take. You carry memories with you about things of which you can never speak unless it is to a Fellow who has <i>Been There</i>.<br />
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I know my own grandfather carried horrific stories with him his whole life, speaking of them rarely. Toward the end of his life, maybe because he wanted his stories to live on, he began to speak to my husband, who carried the trusted title of Chaplain. My grandpa, Denny, to those who knew him well and Dennis to those who didn't (yes, I am named for him and have always been proud of it) starved as a late teenaged kid in a POW camp. He and his buddy Ed lied about their ages so they could enlist; Grandpa was only sixteen. When he saw his chance for escape, he took it, living off whatever morsels he could scavenge from the rifled pockets of dead soldiers, until he spotted a US helicopter taking off toward freedom and made a run through a hail of bullets. <br />
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Thank you, Grandpa - I am here today because you barely made that Chopper. He gave up the Marines after 17 years of decorated service because my grandmother could no longer take the difficult life of a military life. When Grandma laid down the ultimatum, Grandpa chose Her and his three Sons, one of whom would follow his footsteps and become a decorated Marine in his own right. That Marine was my father, who passed away earlier this spring of brain cancer and was accorded full military burial with a moving twenty one gun salute. I have a shell from his service next to a photo of his enlistment.<br />
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When my husband announced his intention to become an officer after only four years of marriage and not one previous mention of military dreams, I didn't even blink. The role of military wife seemed tailor made for me and Donald's years of service are some of the hardest but most rewarding years of my life. I have written much about his medical retirement and about it being taken away a year ago; I won't dredge it up again. Despite our seeming mistreatment at the hands of the government, I miss our military life keenly. Barely a day goes by that I don't recall some aspect of being a Navy wife. <br />
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The bottom line is this: no matter what we think of our government these days (and most of it is one Snafu after another - sorry, couldn't resist a military acronym!), the Men and Women of the Armed Forces wake up every day, put on a uniform, and fight for something bigger than all of us, whether they go to a desk job at the Pentagon or to a tank in Afghanistan. I believe in them and in a month dedicated to thankfulness, I am incredibly thankful for the job they do. <br />
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Last but not least, I am thankful for the Wives, who often go unthanked. You take family vacations encompassing thousands of miles, just you at the wheel and your kids bickering in the back seat over which movie to watch, because your husband is deployed. Again. You are left to explain to the kids that Daddy can't come home yet, even though there are plane tickets to meet him in Hawaii to celebrate the end of his deployment, because a country far away called Syria is committing atrocities of the worst kind. You celebrate Christmas and Valentine's Day and the 4th of July and Labor Day and Halloween with other families who have a deployed spouse. You shoulder behavior problems at school alone, teacher conferences alone, meal prep-house cleaning-soccer games-shopping-band camp-Alone. Skype and Facebook become your Friend. Five minutes alone becomes a Godsend. Tears in the shower go unnoticed. <br />
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But not really. We know. Those of us who have Been There, Know. We know what those moments feel like. Those moments of, "Oh My God, the next Six Months. The Next Twenty-Eight Days. The next twelve hours CanNOT go by quickly enough." We know. And, We HAVE YOUR BACK! <br />
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Thank you, Wives. Thank you Selena, and Karen, and Jen, and Amy, and Emily, and Donna, and Tomo, and Carine, and Michelle, and Gina, and Kjersten, and Kristen, and my grandmother, and my own mom, and to the many others who have gone before me and continue after me. I can't even begin to name you all but I am and will always be grateful for the job you do. As they say, it may very well be the Toughest Job in the military.<br />
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From the Twist Family to Your Family, if you are serving or if you have served, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, on this Veteran's Day and every other day of the year.<br />
<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-22420590659973034482013-09-17T09:29:00.001-07:002013-09-17T09:29:16.877-07:00Library UpdateI thought maybe an update on our Little Free Library might be in order. The Library generated a tremendous amount of interest in the first few days it was open. People slowed down their walks to cast a wary glance. Cars drove slowly by, several even stopping and reversing to get a better look. Everyone was curious but most seemed confused. I may have mentioned from time to time that, while not a bad neighborhood, no one is having block parties to get to know each other and the concept of free is a bit suspect. Folks are getting the idea because books keep disappearing. No one is leaving books yet but that's okay. A friend brought over a laundry basket full of kids books and I restocked the Library with the last of them this morning. It's the second time I've restocked.<br />
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Here's how I feel about it: I am amazed how much pleasure I get from watching little kids sprint past my house to look at the books. Honestly. My heart beats wildly to know that neighbors from other blocks and kids I'll probably never meet are experiencing a tiny thrill at finding a library treasure. Because, no matter how big or small, that's what a library is - a treasure house, and all its gems are yours for the taking. The gem could be an adventure, a mystery, an autobiography, a romance. That's why libraries are so unique. The gem is whatever <i>you</i> want it to be.<br />
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Watching people at our Library also makes me happy because this really isn't the greatest end of town. I'm not sure how many of the people around here own books, which is truly heartbreaking for a family who turned their garage into their own personal library/school room. In this day of too much television and video game playing, literacy is one of the greatest gifts anyone can receive. Getting books into the hands of someone who may not be able to afford them is such a thrill. Even my boys are catching the excitement of watching people take books. Donald still thinks it may eventually become a drug repository but I just ignore him!<br />
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I encourage you all to check out the Little Free Library website and get a library in your own 'hood. Even towns that are super small (like Lance Creek, Wyoming - hint, hint, Mom!) have set up an LFL in public places like the post office or gas station. Give it some thought - it's really an amazing idea and I'm so glad to be part of the organization.<br />
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PS: I wish I had a photo of kids and parents at the Library but I don't want to scare anyone off by whipping out a camera! Peeking through my curtains is probably bad enough!<br />
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-11553411069978209342013-09-11T13:45:00.000-07:002013-09-11T15:07:01.309-07:00Wandering through Education<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First day of 8th and 6th Grade</td></tr>
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Two posts ago I mentioned not feeling ready for school to begin and that such a feeling was totally foreign to me. Today I am chocks pulled, full speed ahead, ready to go. </div>
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So what's the difference between today and last week? Thanks for asking. In the last week the Twist family learned a few valuable lessons, most likely unique to our family but maybe not.<br />
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We plunged into virtual public school, anticipating great things. The boys had laptops, headsets, text books, science equipment, art supplies, new pencils, fresh paper. They were stoked about being totally immersed in technology.<br />
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To start with, the new (cheap) laptops didn't pick up the internet in the schoolroom so my desk and the dining table became the school room. Sorting out a completely online system came with one heck of a learning curve which the boys intuitively figured out but left me absolutely gobsmacked. But then again, I can barely work my cell phone. Which, by the way, has been lost for more than a week. But I digress.<br />
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My log in page for the online school was flooded with about eight million emails from what seemed like dozens of teachers but in reality was probably more like four. I not only had to figure out the system but also had to wade through and process masses of new information. <br />
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Day one took eight hours and we fell into bed, bewildered. Day two took ten hours and we fell into bed, bewildered and exhausted. We had to drag our weary selves out of bed for day three which took another ten hours. Day four took a further ten hours and we nearly wept with joy that it was the weekend. However, it was not to be. Nearly all of Saturday was spent re-doing some assignments (errors that were communicated via another landslide of emails) and trying to work ahead in anticipation of missing three days next week to attend Outdoor School.<br />
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Don and I limped weakly to a party on Saturday evening. As it happened, a party was exactly what we needed - a heavy injection of fun. The boys stayed home in their underwear playing video games and watching movies, which, as it happened, was exactly what <i>they</i> needed. Sunday arrived and all I wanted to do was lay like a limp rag on the couch. My responsible thirteen year old said, "No, Mama, today is Mass on the Grass and it's so nice outside. We don't want to miss it!" He was right. We thoroughly needed the service and the meal afterward. The original plan was to do more school in the afternoon in order to keep working ahead because they only got through two subjects Saturday afternoon. <br />
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When we got home, I couldn't do it. I literally said, "I forbid anyone to open a computer or think about school." We were beyond exhaustion and wondering why, outside of attending Harvard, our boys should be working so hard. Monday came with wailing and gnashing of teeth and that was just by me. By the time #1 had to leave for his first ever Cross Country practice he had already put in six hours of school and still had about four hours to look forward to when he returned home. #2 was just plain miserable, hunched over his computer and nearly in tears.<br />
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An emergency family meeting that evening confirmed what ALL of us were thinking: this is absurd, ridiculous, asinine, fill-in-the-blank-with-more-adjectives/expletives. We decided to call it quits.<br />
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Quitting is another thing I'm totally unfamiliar with. I have two generations of the Marine Corps barking in my blood - I don't quit. One of our cardinal family rules is that we see things through. Some of you may be thinking, well, you hardly gave it a reasonable shake. Fair enough. <br />
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Here's what we learned in the last week:<br />
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1. Another of our cardinal rules is that kids need time to be kids. They grow up too fast anyway and one of the perks of homeschooling is lots of extra time for Legos and carpentry. Reading and dreaming in a hammock. Hanging out in the kitchen with me. None of those things happened last week. For #1 to have a day without Legos is practically like a day without air. For #2 to have a day where he has to sit still for ten hours is practically like a prison sentence.<br />
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2. We have two very different sons. We already knew this, of course, but our foray into virtual school confirmed this yet again. #1 is going to study every screen, do every single problem, read every single page in his text book, do every single assigned piece and then move to the assessment that is required at the end of every single lesson. Thus, three hours per subject. #2 is going to skim his screens, check his webmail, skip the suggested practices, take a few photos with his webcam and then try to do an assessment that he will fail because it is over the material he skipped. Then I will have him repeat the entire lesson while I stand over him, making sure he dots every "i" and crosses every "t." Thus, three hours per subject.<br />
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3. Another perk of homeschooling is that kids can tailor their education to their interests. Yes, there are standardized tests looming. I can teach for that. But if my 8th grader wants to study physics and British Literature, then dang it, let's do it! If my 6th grader cares about American Literature and Algebra (smh over <i>that</i> one), rock on, dude! <br />
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4. I don't believe in busy work for the sake of being busy. If something is assigned, then let it be assessed as well. Telling kids to do something simply to fill a curriculum requirement doesn't work. For me. For my kids. For nearly all kids. For anyone. Time is precious - we are only given so much and it's easy to fill it with unimportant stuff. Life gets too busy as it is without heaping more busy on at such a young age. <br />
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5. I want my boys to enjoy learning. There was no enjoyment sitting behind a computer for ten hours a day. There was no joy, peace, or contentment and very little patience in our house last week. We are a low-key, one sport at a time, an empty weekend is great kind of family. When we woke up yesterday morning, peace reigned. <br />
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6. The reason I wasn't ready for school to start last week was that for thirty one years I have been either a student or teacher. Last week I wasn't either one and the knowledge was disquieting. Now, I am a teacher again. I happily spent yesterday morning planning our year, researching curriculum and shopping on Amazon. Tomorrow I will smile when I receive those brown boxes with the smileys on them.<br />
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Autumn is here and school is back in session!<br />
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-59827133339748623182013-09-06T14:04:00.002-07:002013-09-06T14:06:43.294-07:00Shout Out for Amy!In the last year, thanks to the wonders of Facebook, I have become reacquainted with a dear friend from college. We were freshman together and lived just a few doors from each other, thus our friendship was forged in late night ramen noodle parties, "studying,"watching Anne of Green Gables and Monty Python illegally after hours in the library because she was a student worker and had a key (Shhhhh - don't tell), talking, walking, wishing and dreaming. I introduced her to country music and she introduced me to southern beauty and hospitality. She latched on to the country music so well that she even travelled to Wyoming with me over spring break the year my parents were divorcing and I had to clean out my bedroom. <br />
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We lost touch completely after college (truthfully, after I got married and ditched most of my single friends - bad mistake) but it turns out our lives have shared a few parallels over the last nearly twenty years. She is a military wife and we are both raising boys. Turns out we also share some similar heartbreaks. Getting to know Amy again is a treasure. <br />
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She has just published her first article and I want to link it here because I believe in her and what she has to say. Check it out and see what you think!<br />
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<a href="http://cbmw.org/public-square/marriage-public-square/caped-crusaders-and-cultural-kryptonite">http://cbmw.org/public-square/marriage-public-square/caped-crusaders-and-cultural-kryptonite</a><br />
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Freshman Year: We've Come A Long Way, Baby!</div>
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-61702739762382721572013-09-02T14:51:00.003-07:002013-09-11T13:55:45.476-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This might be the first Labor Day of my life that I am not ready for school to begin. I can't even begin to explain how weird that is for me: I'm one of those people who love the smell of the library, freshly sharpened pencils and clean notebooks full of possibilities. I was barely five when I started school and since then, I've had roughly five years when I was neither student nor teacher. Shoot, I used to spend my summers <i>playing</i> school. Don't even analyze that one! <br />
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We are still homeschooling but with a different spin - technically it is public school online. We're giving it a try just for the heck of it but because I'm still me, I am supplementing with some of my own curriculum. Little basics like Typing, Latin and Logic. Piano. LOTS of reading. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkuMBx5aRmET68maVWw2k-vH44zEteIa8Oq1Elngknw6scD3UrQj9fW-e9bwypUsIaV3BBvuL6zAAQRjWiGITrg2lse0jZWT-iTwBkq8WEi1eGIE1kiFtzxCV510sASOcPGBLNCEGqAKa/s1600/P1080772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkuMBx5aRmET68maVWw2k-vH44zEteIa8Oq1Elngknw6scD3UrQj9fW-e9bwypUsIaV3BBvuL6zAAQRjWiGITrg2lse0jZWT-iTwBkq8WEi1eGIE1kiFtzxCV510sASOcPGBLNCEGqAKa/s200/P1080772.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtHa9ZzJGv5bF7oWfMsPhtIjdZXtwhxsda7v3xRqNVKjJfoGw8K9c3kxx0_8w1kd0X75Bn103sFMW4BcND6FF3IN724eTtALCDqVWQjyyufkMjUiYBZ2WYtEQpCCkMI3kLbYNy8cJN3OO/s1600/P1080771.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtHa9ZzJGv5bF7oWfMsPhtIjdZXtwhxsda7v3xRqNVKjJfoGw8K9c3kxx0_8w1kd0X75Bn103sFMW4BcND6FF3IN724eTtALCDqVWQjyyufkMjUiYBZ2WYtEQpCCkMI3kLbYNy8cJN3OO/s200/P1080771.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
It's not that we've had such a fabulous summer. It's been merely OK. Nothing great. Mostly one house project after another. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqINQORuPBuzSQ_tx32okEkVH5CtjZBLTtvsu1q6ftmE_HYSd7z7gj6BhgwABBlP29uGZoI1s4xbaI9_XcrtvuxAqQh827InMgnjMGl_b7Di2gE585y-jNQKHFav7EiX8536CJLsIDH63X/s1600/P1080797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqINQORuPBuzSQ_tx32okEkVH5CtjZBLTtvsu1q6ftmE_HYSd7z7gj6BhgwABBlP29uGZoI1s4xbaI9_XcrtvuxAqQh827InMgnjMGl_b7Di2gE585y-jNQKHFav7EiX8536CJLsIDH63X/s200/P1080797.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmom8YxvUF6QwGJymx6zwKGpUREoPkHwQpg46VQq1LeJ0hTiG_6izfz7hqyEyikxdcy2PjFF-PEif4NDwyoNp00M3-H7890ng9FHLoKgnufMYHD-SoxNP5-XYkaTH5318QkrNejH3WME-5/s1600/P1080796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmom8YxvUF6QwGJymx6zwKGpUREoPkHwQpg46VQq1LeJ0hTiG_6izfz7hqyEyikxdcy2PjFF-PEif4NDwyoNp00M3-H7890ng9FHLoKgnufMYHD-SoxNP5-XYkaTH5318QkrNejH3WME-5/s200/P1080796.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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Like, building a Movie Screen for Outdoor Movies!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCFm_nVWnHkdLAyiog-DVw0nAFX98Jwi8BMWMmoQQNxNeo1yuWSIbRCpANYNaS1_q6EfilqvEC95mE7EIFlz9qBDuPQhO4eeQzvj3RaDWqr5xDuVPbw4POJoWeF_e0LGOhSxx5UWZ0POl/s1600/P1080854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCFm_nVWnHkdLAyiog-DVw0nAFX98Jwi8BMWMmoQQNxNeo1yuWSIbRCpANYNaS1_q6EfilqvEC95mE7EIFlz9qBDuPQhO4eeQzvj3RaDWqr5xDuVPbw4POJoWeF_e0LGOhSxx5UWZ0POl/s200/P1080854.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqugy-hHJUHS-gfi83xFezuyyDfc7nGgIuXB51ir4LfLOfoL3QMhVePvGxgVBq08CvHTjWFizDlGlY1EJ6h2oyT1e0847RYE6Qpdb8l9ttiO-5NlCx33XphBKsQ12V5d8cGmzBxT5JuTzk/s1600/P1080850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqugy-hHJUHS-gfi83xFezuyyDfc7nGgIuXB51ir4LfLOfoL3QMhVePvGxgVBq08CvHTjWFizDlGlY1EJ6h2oyT1e0847RYE6Qpdb8l9ttiO-5NlCx33XphBKsQ12V5d8cGmzBxT5JuTzk/s200/P1080850.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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And finally getting my Dream Door!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDV23wJhkq8ymyeT9SAtFr6ySSS0m-5WvSGX85RXboyfz7ivpPst3CrMKpZD1QKW1DvsCsBXnH6vA8lRR2WGMSQQomt8lGvd3h8oSb5g8oXliixkUVnQv5ut5IS-LsFAu2a0GWXEIxIzxf/s1600/P1080879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDV23wJhkq8ymyeT9SAtFr6ySSS0m-5WvSGX85RXboyfz7ivpPst3CrMKpZD1QKW1DvsCsBXnH6vA8lRR2WGMSQQomt8lGvd3h8oSb5g8oXliixkUVnQv5ut5IS-LsFAu2a0GWXEIxIzxf/s200/P1080879.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGIQR-1YNfE68jkszllbOFLobfAiUxR6GY88JSDB0wEA-J7g4EL9eX4CVaxPoca1dsM4VU69Qancw-sONgJ_fU4YU9knzRlxV7Zl2mLaKjgGz70aqyQPONg25x1kvQ-HxZEGsdo7p0Dh8g/s1600/P1080880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGIQR-1YNfE68jkszllbOFLobfAiUxR6GY88JSDB0wEA-J7g4EL9eX4CVaxPoca1dsM4VU69Qancw-sONgJ_fU4YU9knzRlxV7Zl2mLaKjgGz70aqyQPONg25x1kvQ-HxZEGsdo7p0Dh8g/s200/P1080880.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
We found this solid wood, unused door at the Salem ReStore for $50. I sanded it down and painted it. Our brilliant friend, Doug, and his Dad, turn it into a gorgeous Dutch Door. Most beautiful door in town!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0bndNaE2wb4vsYJ_xUP7y-pMH72i5ESPkhEcjiHwBolnOtxliKCF04exzKEZ1WJI13BemdRLvy7Sm5eMOKgmGYWzmepn68QkXZsyjVeiOY5dLOvomsvw20DdD2nfQ8uXyb8oyC36fLGf/s1600/P1080881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0bndNaE2wb4vsYJ_xUP7y-pMH72i5ESPkhEcjiHwBolnOtxliKCF04exzKEZ1WJI13BemdRLvy7Sm5eMOKgmGYWzmepn68QkXZsyjVeiOY5dLOvomsvw20DdD2nfQ8uXyb8oyC36fLGf/s200/P1080881.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQbbutHEg5FtS-4lng6-H7uK2IDkp137MslMHrU93TUuTs8JEBawPIXeM5vXhm_fO_YkHzcRppB4Z7IYhCCIEureYomSGKfDVUKgyN5g1rglwzPodI7uj9BhoewR0sL-hALzdCVa8xR00P/s1600/P1080882.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQbbutHEg5FtS-4lng6-H7uK2IDkp137MslMHrU93TUuTs8JEBawPIXeM5vXhm_fO_YkHzcRppB4Z7IYhCCIEureYomSGKfDVUKgyN5g1rglwzPodI7uj9BhoewR0sL-hALzdCVa8xR00P/s200/P1080882.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
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But the best project of the whole summer is my Little Free Library (http://www.littlefreelibrary.org/index.html). I've seen these in England in the iconic but sadly unused red phone booths. My friend Melissa introduced me to the link and I was hooked. Once again, friend Doug came through with the carpentry based on my badly drawn sketch. But it turned out brilliantly and now our neighborhood has its own reading material. Take a Book, Leave a Book! I'm especially excited because loads of children walk by our house every day on their way to school; hopefully I can get books into the hands of families that may not be able to afford them otherwise!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5JL-AS6D4XXqj8xzcAXUGfpsoy6mujAFNDQLOU5vgKTkT_k_rmZgc8DK112qSXxTyDRTJ0Dq_qkgsWsLVrbinwwpc5nTp4T1OkkoFMArogynPkQWUd9Tb-a-hvdLzJzyxIk1QZqIWo8H/s1600/P1090666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5JL-AS6D4XXqj8xzcAXUGfpsoy6mujAFNDQLOU5vgKTkT_k_rmZgc8DK112qSXxTyDRTJ0Dq_qkgsWsLVrbinwwpc5nTp4T1OkkoFMArogynPkQWUd9Tb-a-hvdLzJzyxIk1QZqIWo8H/s200/P1090666.jpg" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPbdV25MICaKmEV6XOlFQcDhuI53DNAHKdnC6_NDBx5MPl-U28j_WDu8ohHEaCfc5hyTwSCU1jV6cHok3EFWBHRajoBNDOLDYHVDDriiDjMMmZzgMb1YNLwnoHMAUyfbeCud1nbVEpg8Qi/s1600/P1090665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPbdV25MICaKmEV6XOlFQcDhuI53DNAHKdnC6_NDBx5MPl-U28j_WDu8ohHEaCfc5hyTwSCU1jV6cHok3EFWBHRajoBNDOLDYHVDDriiDjMMmZzgMb1YNLwnoHMAUyfbeCud1nbVEpg8Qi/s200/P1090665.JPG" width="113" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogNY8OeWtGhi6BK7BdGSDW7mdtlOHYH5S__oRkZkBkcFxuSmmdlSVFL9gBjssaccAvkJkw96Gtg1jGR1w7zZFygLGgaVlR31Mc7mrSpR1xCSfWTIyS9oUQzuN_L0Nv5bcoEjLQIRPQM0V/s1600/P1090660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogNY8OeWtGhi6BK7BdGSDW7mdtlOHYH5S__oRkZkBkcFxuSmmdlSVFL9gBjssaccAvkJkw96Gtg1jGR1w7zZFygLGgaVlR31Mc7mrSpR1xCSfWTIyS9oUQzuN_L0Nv5bcoEjLQIRPQM0V/s200/P1090660.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZM3WD1U8Ega5SZMxuJZAhyDOv9-ApXVp9atha84pRuyn7LdBd_o2lRpQOqAbvDoa3Arq_w4tyqjaAYZigr5fO92iaHbVwICN3w-hwtPPS9wm8UCgrqXXFyZhZOIJ2gEEEiXD5JeDiDoG/s1600/IMG_3763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZM3WD1U8Ega5SZMxuJZAhyDOv9-ApXVp9atha84pRuyn7LdBd_o2lRpQOqAbvDoa3Arq_w4tyqjaAYZigr5fO92iaHbVwICN3w-hwtPPS9wm8UCgrqXXFyZhZOIJ2gEEEiXD5JeDiDoG/s200/IMG_3763.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Sunriver</td></tr>
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<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="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRW5rW0Eu4MJSbur_AvPMlzi-g9-fZqk1yjZugTbC_ZwSu5khitEaPGrI-f6Rc0-5RzY8ZyD5S8rtomkJkX4-tXe2kjXMBJboPAq8ZtC4byw1Db3N8bzUwGphkrtcZFtdoFvnKIDK9L8BG/s1600/P1090218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRW5rW0Eu4MJSbur_AvPMlzi-g9-fZqk1yjZugTbC_ZwSu5khitEaPGrI-f6Rc0-5RzY8ZyD5S8rtomkJkX4-tXe2kjXMBJboPAq8ZtC4byw1Db3N8bzUwGphkrtcZFtdoFvnKIDK9L8BG/s200/P1090218.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the mall</td></tr>
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I finished my third novel and have begun a fourth, typing wherever and whenever! One of these days I'm going to focus on publishing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvp1OfwbxZ9uJPVUd6NvG8bdoLcmvIbj4ljwZh-RPB950qRR-bCOiWHpjDnYiY02JBuCDD4dlga4Kt6NWF0H47jWkgS0ipxyOjtKl3iQ7cm8yOyZT_16s3_pDOLTs9ZL7VlUDhF6faXL5G/s1600/P1090074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvp1OfwbxZ9uJPVUd6NvG8bdoLcmvIbj4ljwZh-RPB950qRR-bCOiWHpjDnYiY02JBuCDD4dlga4Kt6NWF0H47jWkgS0ipxyOjtKl3iQ7cm8yOyZT_16s3_pDOLTs9ZL7VlUDhF6faXL5G/s200/P1090074.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can see the finish line</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHN-dYvgWz_v0wplLqrVdaFbDPdy0a9bcQ2kFG2FaX1YxPPJ9GkRJ4Gk92FJm3Jj6Zsa5noyCwlulYjeN_CCAbgXKhbcyXzXV4zbkk2KGIuUWr5TTxlNj2jEE7jHhJnhj3mTRBhyphenhyphenRrdHZ/s1600/P1090082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHN-dYvgWz_v0wplLqrVdaFbDPdy0a9bcQ2kFG2FaX1YxPPJ9GkRJ4Gk92FJm3Jj6Zsa5noyCwlulYjeN_CCAbgXKhbcyXzXV4zbkk2KGIuUWr5TTxlNj2jEE7jHhJnhj3mTRBhyphenhyphenRrdHZ/s200/P1090082.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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I ran a few races and am proud to say that I am faster now than I was twenty years ago. Faster than five years ago. I even won a 10K in my age group! <br />
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And, oh, yes. I celebrated my 40th birthday. Which wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. We had a great party in the back yard with friends and an outdoor movie - Brave. Nothing like a Fiery Redhead and cartoon kilted Scots to cap off a perfect party!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVFvD7l7YFpUuktvbFUoIx6-iyveaiIBQl-f5GFRUnn97pkJhejU6SFY6k2s0fqfDK-ccr0Fqw7RwGxxPdcRCThScr3xzzOwMaLDhXj8xCJZR4s6Th4mdZoQgC7RQGHFwM4c-gJXfzyH5/s1600/Scan+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVFvD7l7YFpUuktvbFUoIx6-iyveaiIBQl-f5GFRUnn97pkJhejU6SFY6k2s0fqfDK-ccr0Fqw7RwGxxPdcRCThScr3xzzOwMaLDhXj8xCJZR4s6Th4mdZoQgC7RQGHFwM4c-gJXfzyH5/s200/Scan+1.jpeg" width="143" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The party invite.<br />
It was an English theme!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbGRneBWrJqVdhEgnina1j-dGKwHgbAS0rpGgURieRkatzuuh1dwWXeGO73sMN8b0ybZXh_c7VK8Q9kP3z-kte-u0ac3L-U8hdhoN7Sr9qBm2lGAMM1x9Cnyxdrb9scrcW-1k6pWm3t7O/s1600/P1080764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbGRneBWrJqVdhEgnina1j-dGKwHgbAS0rpGgURieRkatzuuh1dwWXeGO73sMN8b0ybZXh_c7VK8Q9kP3z-kte-u0ac3L-U8hdhoN7Sr9qBm2lGAMM1x9Cnyxdrb9scrcW-1k6pWm3t7O/s200/P1080764.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flea Market furniture, spruced up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIosuat9uPSNFvqB093FskYptgAA_NNp3u46ldBpxPE8Fh60QGFqe-pF5L2Otku54lK5WS54NhI0FBw8cktAF0InlFrYXo-ylTrWrH-HafT1-5ckKBQcjoxUNShgpoN8LriUKdc34O-_-t/s1600/P1090095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIosuat9uPSNFvqB093FskYptgAA_NNp3u46ldBpxPE8Fh60QGFqe-pF5L2Otku54lK5WS54NhI0FBw8cktAF0InlFrYXo-ylTrWrH-HafT1-5ckKBQcjoxUNShgpoN8LriUKdc34O-_-t/s200/P1090095.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made some Union Jack tuffets.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, recovered and quilted the footstool!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite photos of the summer: everyone watching Brave!</td></tr>
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This is my exhausted teenager in the middle of the afternoon after staying up with his buddy Adam until 4 am!<br />
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This is Adam's mom, my gorgeous friend Kellianna! We spent five days doing exactly what you see here. Hanging out, relaxing, talking, writing, drinking, laughing like fools and even crying a tad. It was a great week!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas and Ryan</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam, new Student Body President!! Woot Woot!</td></tr>
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William had the unique opportunity to spend a couple of days under the tutelage of a Lego Master Builder (there are only 16 in the whole world) at a local mall. Over three days about a gazillion kids and Lego workers built an 8 foot tall Incredible Hulk.<br />
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The best part was how great the Master Builder was. He took time out to talk to William and me and gave some good advice on what William needs to do to become a Master Builder. The first thing he said was, "You need to shoot me and then get in a really long line!"<br />
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The final day of the building extravaganza. It was so cool to see William "in the Zone," as he calls it. The rest of us were a little bored with watching hours of Lego building. Thomas raced around the mall and took all the photos.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not quite finished but you get the idea!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deep in the Lava Tube</td></tr>
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We had dear Navy friends come visit for a week and other friends from church offered the use of a house at the Sunriver Resort near Bend, Oregon. The four boys have known each other ten years - since diapers and pacifiers and first days of kindergarten, camping trips and multiple holidays.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I solemnly swear to eat whatever Miss Denise is about to hand us!" Who's the kid with his fingers crossed??? And Nick looks a little doubtful while I sort out the Cricket Lickets! This is outside the High Desert Museum.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnk4ABnLrGIcmnU3KTcheIY8tJXCcTJPTbYJCWYxxhpHCKy8Hz3RvzQx3-iLrW3IRSlEqE8gqj6tKxucPrh9JfrPcsrsaBz0zmUUOYZ3jg8s4ifJTIAnBdwU62forfRx8UvS-ciplbnzHm/s1600/IMG_3739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnk4ABnLrGIcmnU3KTcheIY8tJXCcTJPTbYJCWYxxhpHCKy8Hz3RvzQx3-iLrW3IRSlEqE8gqj6tKxucPrh9JfrPcsrsaBz0zmUUOYZ3jg8s4ifJTIAnBdwU62forfRx8UvS-ciplbnzHm/s320/IMG_3739.JPG" width="320" /></a> I offered $1 to the first boy to get to the cricket in their Cricket Lickets. Thomas tore into it so fast I was afraid for his teeth! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJpgpUJB8QEMLJq0s6d39z8NGcqFdRY5Ag3Qtx1m3_qYRIKal6GrMa_LYCKydYio7RsqI1gnCe5H5FNw-kEe0QUCx5XsBLEz0wG3mzGoBL-Op7MsUka0649jv88iMo_F7PYybrGw3iiZMd/s1600/IMG_3750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJpgpUJB8QEMLJq0s6d39z8NGcqFdRY5Ag3Qtx1m3_qYRIKal6GrMa_LYCKydYio7RsqI1gnCe5H5FNw-kEe0QUCx5XsBLEz0wG3mzGoBL-Op7MsUka0649jv88iMo_F7PYybrGw3iiZMd/s320/IMG_3750.JPG" width="320" /></a> Four men in a private hot tub!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-gFEkE809N6PG-xXGZGVEExvGQaHHP1sAzEfDs4gt33PIyeIA123HO2rNW2F0g-xeMBGrSMF-0drfu2-fLhjg8lEsbAFOUgLISKoAOwK_U-Yqx2xGUFdp6yOeoZY62LGuyUsktMALWc0/s1600/P1090646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-gFEkE809N6PG-xXGZGVEExvGQaHHP1sAzEfDs4gt33PIyeIA123HO2rNW2F0g-xeMBGrSMF-0drfu2-fLhjg8lEsbAFOUgLISKoAOwK_U-Yqx2xGUFdp6yOeoZY62LGuyUsktMALWc0/s320/P1090646.JPG" width="320" /></a>Meet Jennifer, Navy wife and mother of two, husband currently deployed. She's taking advantage of no boys in the hot tub!</div>
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And that's the Twist family summer, done and dusted! I'm off to enjoy my final hours of summer break with some barbecued chicken!<br />
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-11381953257694870852013-06-09T15:06:00.001-07:002013-06-09T15:08:52.652-07:00Shameful Neglect<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeEMnY5N7oE3Fl_hyphenhyphenhErjX_6TtfFclA1kC0Fr6LQFhKvCjfaiufs8d44cfAMO12hoFvklcERQYw4ftKJBiHnyXduIgSsEv16sBaetvKhNQtf5NpgW8PNw1C3tQVVWE6jMAkGIZQqJkwHa/s1600/P1080127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeEMnY5N7oE3Fl_hyphenhyphenhErjX_6TtfFclA1kC0Fr6LQFhKvCjfaiufs8d44cfAMO12hoFvklcERQYw4ftKJBiHnyXduIgSsEv16sBaetvKhNQtf5NpgW8PNw1C3tQVVWE6jMAkGIZQqJkwHa/s400/P1080127.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
So, yes, I've been shamefully negligent in blogging. Six months and not a peep! My aunt emailed me last week and said, "Merry Christmas!" and I had no idea she was referring to my blog! To my adoring public, "I'm beyond sorry!"<br />
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Truly, it's been hard to think in terms of blogging because we aren't traveling anymore. However, that doesn't mean we aren't wandering: geographically, mentally and spiritually. We took some of our settlement money from the Navy and went to England in early April with the boys. We had an absolute blast, although, as it was sub zero temps the whole time, we nearly froze to death after our temperate Oregon winter. We spent some time in southern England trolling graveyards and looking up long dead family members. Our search was rewarded by finding Donald's great, great something or other, Thomas Twisse, who was rector in 1641 of a tiny church where his name still stands. <i>That</i> was pretty cool. Rev. Twisse's son, Peter, was the first Twist to immigrate, landing in Salem, Massachusetts, where the name took on its current spelling. #1 celebrated his 13th birthday by going to a service at St. Paul's Cathedral in London and then to Legoland Windsor. All in all, it was a fabulous vacation.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Andrews</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbimQhPS_kStQBG8DYGAJeSeZHLVtA65nwR1VkWuTWD9-UMLMkzBz96Iad4lxaNHnjljUlKZq_iyqIiMQ5WtplLHr3Gs7_1kCgyzIae0x2kxvJYj6cVDt9mnHVPODmgJx8jplUkHrNbjJU/s1600/P1080211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbimQhPS_kStQBG8DYGAJeSeZHLVtA65nwR1VkWuTWD9-UMLMkzBz96Iad4lxaNHnjljUlKZq_iyqIiMQ5WtplLHr3Gs7_1kCgyzIae0x2kxvJYj6cVDt9mnHVPODmgJx8jplUkHrNbjJU/s200/P1080211.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUKNGk8NoF37qWFthLH9_nRtx_iJKp9iYaZBLbVuWHzSibu_ybkCaiuvBX3KTmGsGssmkiqKL_XHptnVmX3S9XqPEBR2tqAloWw0YzLjfmd9BVFhfjbKgLX-mrOGyRtqlD3edFTYSRkVi/s1600/P1070797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUKNGk8NoF37qWFthLH9_nRtx_iJKp9iYaZBLbVuWHzSibu_ybkCaiuvBX3KTmGsGssmkiqKL_XHptnVmX3S9XqPEBR2tqAloWw0YzLjfmd9BVFhfjbKgLX-mrOGyRtqlD3edFTYSRkVi/s1600/P1070797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a> Pigeons in St. James Park<br />
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May found the boys and me on a looooong road trip through Oregon, Idaho and Wyoming, via Yellowstone National Park, along with my parents. Believe it or not, I grew up in the six hour shadow of Yellowstone but never visited until this trip. Wow. We toured many national parks on the Big Adventure but Yellowstone wins, hands down! I only wish we had a week and a tent - the bare minimum for scratching the surface! Then we spent a couple of days at my parents house seeing my sister and brother. It's been several years since we were all together and it was a really great day!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hairy D and Half-Stache Jill at their local Watering Hole</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Facial Hair Gang Rides Again!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellowstone Mama and Baby</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite things about Wyoming: my parents' back yard!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this is what we do on a bored afternoon - we learn the fine art of roping!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William and Grandpa, Dan and the old Willys</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas and Grandpa</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haven't seen snow like this in, well, never! Not for the boys, anyway!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who is King of the Mountain?</td></tr>
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The boys and I headed home by way of I-80. I've never been through that part of Wyoming either (what can I say, I didn't get out much as a kid and I left home at 17) so it was all new to me. Absolutely gorgeous drive. We passed Independence Rock, where the Oregon, California and Mormon Trail pioneers celebrated July 4th in 1841. They signed their names to the massive rock and used it as a sign post for later pioneers. I read about it in 4th grade Wyoming history and have always longed to see it. I can now check it off my bucket list!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick Tormey, something Cavalry, USA, 1860 something. It was really weathered and hard to read.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Northern Utah - early morning, low clouds. Taken while driving but shhh, don't tell.<br />
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Three days after we got home, Don took the boys and headed to <i>his</i> parents in Montana. No photos because they didn't take the camera. What was amazing about this trip is that I never get more than an hour or two alone in my house. I actually spent Five Whole Days, just me and the dogs. It was a little too quiet but then again, my house has never stayed so tidy for so long! I was giddy at having a clean sink/toilet/mirror that many days in a row and I have never done so little laundry!</div>
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I stayed home because I had a job interview. Which suddenly became two separate, totally different job interviews, both of which are mine for the taking. Both involve teaching English but the similarity ends there. One is a one semester substitute job, full time, at a private Christian school to jr/sr high schoolers. The other is three afternoons a week to preschoolers in our primarily Spanish speaking local public school, kids who need a bit of a headstart before kindergarten. One job would drastically change our lives, after four years of homeschooling, and the other would be a mere ripple. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to be wanted. This is a good problem to have but weighing and measuring pros and cons is exhausting. So is praying and not having an answer. </div>
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It's all part of my wandering and not being lost, as per my friend Tolkien. I've spent 2,500 miles on the road, wandering, in the last two weeks. I've spent nearly 40 years wandering (although I'm only admitting 29) and not being lost. Criminy, our family travelled 20,000 plus miles wandering the country. Sometimes the wandering is a means to an end. I don't know what I'll do with my "two different employers want me" conundrum. </div>
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Wander with me and see what happens.</div>
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Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-13587068184001447962012-12-24T20:18:00.004-08:002012-12-24T20:18:40.319-08:00Merry Christmas . . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">. . . From Our Home to Yours!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmvGiVSrodMRoZ4QUBqQspcOxKiDRQhyphenhyphenKKx75X_3QkWcybr5s1Wx1h2I9srL35swzljGxofbSzQWL1wvC-Gy4UvKsAtfvaEepZ3SYhGptS5fi60uIOt5IC84_izLYDIG3YjG11V9RBMKP/s1600/P1070318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmvGiVSrodMRoZ4QUBqQspcOxKiDRQhyphenhyphenKKx75X_3QkWcybr5s1Wx1h2I9srL35swzljGxofbSzQWL1wvC-Gy4UvKsAtfvaEepZ3SYhGptS5fi60uIOt5IC84_izLYDIG3YjG11V9RBMKP/s320/P1070318.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love,<br />Shakespeare</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holly<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Us!</td></tr>
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-92049267776911041202012-12-21T21:00:00.001-08:002012-12-21T21:00:32.262-08:00Happy Birthday, #2!Today is #2's birthday. You might think that having a birthday this side of Christmas would help to alleviate some of the seasonal antsy-ness that most kids succumb to.<div>
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As soon as the calendar rolled over into December, this kid has been a stressed mess. Sticky notes in various sizes, colours and editions have been appearing by my bedside for several months, including order of desire and cost at Target with his father's discount factored in. Always an early riser, he has been seeing the dark, dark side of the morning for a couple of weeks now.</div>
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You can see from the stack of 3 (count 'em) gifts that we do not go crazy at birthdays or Christmas. The top package is from his big brother, paid for out of his own money. We don't schedule dozens of holiday events. We don't shop for dozens of people. We watch Christmas movies and listen to lots of Christmas music. We have a basket of Christmas books we haul out every year and re-read. We have suppers with friends. We try to keep a peaceful and hopeful Advent season.</div>
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No matter how calm we try to keep life, #2 cannot stand the wait. I think this is normal of any kid but when you add Christmas right on the heels of a birthday . . .</div>
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Today dawned grey and wet. Luckily, no asteroid/meteor/apocalypse struck or we would have had one distraught birthday boy! Tops on his list this year was a crossbow. What on earth would an urban kid do with a crossbow? For starters, he has his eyes on the escaped-but-domesticated rabbit living on the empty property across the street and the feral cats that roam freely in herds. Clearly, we couldn't give this crazy kid a real crossbow so we did the next best thing.</div>
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Bass Pro did not fail us in a scaled down, NERF type crossbow that shoots foam darts 60 feet. But you have to have a target, right? Enter a small, inflatable buck complete with a decent rack and a velcro target over his heart and you have two boys spending most of the day in the back yard pretending to be Great White Hunters. We only paused to have a Sushi lunch, as per a sticky note request, and to make birthday Cream Puffs, as per another sticky note.</div>
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We've had a quiet but a good day and I suspect he may sleep a little more soundly tonight. Or do I mean, I <i>hope?</i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah yes, the annual birthday photo-in-your-underwear-because-you're-too-excited-for-clothes!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dOO908pnc9NkkEsnD5r4gVZdUCIh0k8K5PpgqOk-3SROasFknjAhRw9B2al1mrfpZO_DpKKyD3UQ6kL1ZQifZdHX8GAuv5SC_caZeHddIxcXfKE3l9qYY1gj2shqbq2tBPfO_83ZyaJ_/s1600/P1070360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dOO908pnc9NkkEsnD5r4gVZdUCIh0k8K5PpgqOk-3SROasFknjAhRw9B2al1mrfpZO_DpKKyD3UQ6kL1ZQifZdHX8GAuv5SC_caZeHddIxcXfKE3l9qYY1gj2shqbq2tBPfO_83ZyaJ_/s320/P1070360.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not sure why he is wearing Don's military issue, Icelandic parka!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwsRpDMuf32yGCUd1zLZxTLVn3t5FxTKFOhvGd00qchJFovKM0xomn_QlWhmf-o3n1MSwj-iw3_t-jQQO6CaACpCZ6thMPKiwx1IfFVr4XRXeC4VMUGVaV7eHBhex28sv9JjEfcuk1B7p-/s1600/P1070361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwsRpDMuf32yGCUd1zLZxTLVn3t5FxTKFOhvGd00qchJFovKM0xomn_QlWhmf-o3n1MSwj-iw3_t-jQQO6CaACpCZ6thMPKiwx1IfFVr4XRXeC4VMUGVaV7eHBhex28sv9JjEfcuk1B7p-/s320/P1070361.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This will see us through the long winter, I'm sure!</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbPy5bdTkVSOgxyDE1mrmFD3ryDlWN9BtUulSu6h2NR8jcsbuK9p2iu3JptlhyphenhyphenmVTbyxSVuMBNe432_KOJTg2SPWFcYQb2KNuYZXGrcr_dXHW1WN_uvovgvYuTlqaqbULM2OQXcTsHOj6/s1600/P1070362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbPy5bdTkVSOgxyDE1mrmFD3ryDlWN9BtUulSu6h2NR8jcsbuK9p2iu3JptlhyphenhyphenmVTbyxSVuMBNe432_KOJTg2SPWFcYQb2KNuYZXGrcr_dXHW1WN_uvovgvYuTlqaqbULM2OQXcTsHOj6/s320/P1070362.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Don had to give it a try.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5IzZeGScKIfeGMYhERLiLvceDM9oZ79aHGAEvLv1uBAEVgjwnlpfJ_3Mo8wM5gGFcwSHEOLsYQOFjqqvg-k-8uOt8Eh9obvpAIzoY9CQkStlr7q-x2CmRkahtGbMei2_8Ex9gstBdsFe/s1600/P1070363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5IzZeGScKIfeGMYhERLiLvceDM9oZ79aHGAEvLv1uBAEVgjwnlpfJ_3Mo8wM5gGFcwSHEOLsYQOFjqqvg-k-8uOt8Eh9obvpAIzoY9CQkStlr7q-x2CmRkahtGbMei2_8Ex9gstBdsFe/s320/P1070363.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bringing home the meat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81Qi1zhiXSnbj9KG8XUTt5_vSF78N-GWqSeil0OhntUvZgUIqg3E2bTJ6RojSLGmoaXHUYwEGmgUnRPG0NC3OWaV_SYHyxUp8aCMgwN2lueZ9bC3SLKOqDBL-gF3Kv6BLggHFNfQ8ggbc/s1600/P1070364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81Qi1zhiXSnbj9KG8XUTt5_vSF78N-GWqSeil0OhntUvZgUIqg3E2bTJ6RojSLGmoaXHUYwEGmgUnRPG0NC3OWaV_SYHyxUp8aCMgwN2lueZ9bC3SLKOqDBL-gF3Kv6BLggHFNfQ8ggbc/s320/P1070364.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday Cream Puffs. <br />Don't look at the chocolate - I didn't get it tempered properly<br />but it didn't stop anyone from eating them!</td></tr>
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Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-87541499611593211672012-11-29T20:18:00.002-08:002012-11-29T21:01:59.071-08:00The Worst?Today I am reminded of Shakespeare (the Bard, this time, and not my neurotic dog) who said in King Lear:<br />
<br />
"The worst is not<br />
So long as we can say,<br />
'This is the worst.'"<br />
<br />
<br />
I wonder when one know that the worst <i>is </i>actually the worst.<br />
<br />
We were dealt the death blow by the US Navy today. I arrived home from a long day working for my lunatic boss, who is convinced that by having the internet we are at risk for people hacking into our dental files. Never mind that we don't accept credit/debit cards of any kind and the only personal information we keep on the computer is possibly (but not always since we don't require them) a social security number. <br />
<br />
The look on Donald's face was not good but then, given our particular circumstances, not exactly unusual either. He handed me a letter and I saw the certified envelope in which the devastating missive had arrived. <br />
<br />
Let me preface. When last I blogged, Donald was on his way Bremerton, WA to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. Her notes indicate that while he is showing some improvement, her recommendation was that he continue as before and come back in a year. Remember, when Donald was medically retired in 2010 we were told he would have five years to remain as such before he was formally re-evaluated. He has been officially retired 1 year and 355 days. <br />
<br />
Back to the letter. A team of three 06's (read: high ranking and important) decided that he no longer had PTSD or a major depressive disorder. He only suffers from anxiety but as such is unfit for duty and can no longer receive his retirement pay, his health insurance or commissary/exchange privileges. <br />
<br />
Merry Christmas, Lieutenant Twist.<br />
<br />
Oh, and he has fifteen days to sign the letter and return it to the powers that be.<br />
<br />
I wonder if these 06's know what it is like to live with someone who may or may not speak to anyone in the family for weeks on end. Someone who can barely get out of bed some days. Someone who, after giving everything at work, has zero to give at home. But what do I know? I'm not a doctor or a high ranking military officer. Empirical evidence is obviously of low import to the "experts."<br />
<br />
Yes, we can appeal. But we've been there, done that and Do Not want another t-shirt. Two appeals and one official hearing before the Washington Navy Yard. Nearly ten, emotionally exhausting months upon the Navy Roller Coaster of Not So Much Fun.<br />
<br />
So. We looked at each other in sadness and said, "Is this it? All those years? For what? To be injured and just released?" We agreed we cannot go through the appeals process again. It was too much the first time. The Navy will give us a small severance and we are going to take it. The money, while not large enough to be worth the damage, will be helpful in small ways. <br />
<br />
Then, this will all be over. A beautiful Naval career cut short by an unforeseen injury, one brief day in which my husband went to work and came home an entirely different person, changing our family 180 degrees. It seems small but it broke my heart when he said to me tonight, "I can't even keep the title Retired anymore. They'll even take that honor away from me." <br />
<br />
LT Donald Twist, USN CHC, you faithfully served God, Country and your Family. "You don't need to wear a patch on your arm to have honor." <br />
<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-17841350379681189582012-11-01T07:18:00.002-07:002012-11-01T07:18:53.527-07:00Happy (belated) Halloween!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Another sugar fueled Halloween has come and gone and with it, the two year anniversary of the blog. And, by default, the two year anniversary of being out of the Navy. Except that we've recently discovered, we sort of aren't.<br />
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Let me esplain. No, let me sum up. (Princess Bride, anyone?)<br />
<br />
Donald is on temporary retirement for five years, at the end of which he will be reevaluated as to whether or not he goes on permanent retirement. He's been diligent about jumping through the yearly hoops, seeing mental health and tracking with his meds. About a month ago, the Navy called. <br />
<br />
Hello?<br />
<br />
Two years and not a peep but when they call and say you need a full physical and mental evaluation, asap, you really have no choice. Furthermore, when they refuse to accept either your local doctor or the doctors at the VA, you have no choice but to haul yourself to the nearest naval facility. <br />
<br />
Does the Navy not realize that Oregon has a VA hospital but not a single naval installation? Going to the army hospital at Ft Lewis, WA wasn't good enough either. Absolutely had to be the hospital at Bremerton, WA where his complete breakdown originally happened. Oh, goodie. Let's stir up the PTSD pot, shall we?<br />
<br />
So, Donald complied, staying in Bremerton less than twenty four hours. And really, we aren't even sure why it was necessary or what will come of it.<br />
<br />
Happier topic: I thought I would post photos of the boys from last night. #1 did a reprise of the Headless Horseman, last seen in Portsmouth, VA. He had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction while trick or treating (apparently not being able to see ruins the fun just a tad) so he came home to hand out candy with me.<br />
<br />
I tried to convince him that I could nip up to the attic for the costume box we've lugged all around the world. The conversation went like this:<br />
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"You could wear my coconut shells and my grass skirt! It would be hilarious. Come on, just Do It!"<br />
<br />
He turned very slowly to me and said, "Yeah, that <i>would</i> be really funny. But my DIGNITY is worth more than a sucker!"<br />
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Have I mentioned that I love this kid? This is what I get for trying to talk him into being a transvestite hula dancer!<br />
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#2 went as a Werewolf, which only got as elaborate as a mask. But hey, I am not into spending a gajillion dollars on costumes worn once. I try to emphasize the creativity aspect of Halloween. After searching dozens of youtube videos to make our own wolf costume, we discovered that a. the most authentic one was worthy of Hollywood and took over 300 hours and hundreds of dollars to make and b. gluing hair all over my sensitive skinned kid was probably not a great idea. He actually had the nerve to roll his eyes at me when I suggested he just draw a werewolf on a brown paper bag! So, we bought a mask and that's as far as that went! He insisted on carrying a pillowcase after hearing about childhood stories fed to him by his father and he came back with a serious load of candy. I don't know if I should be embarrassed or glad that I work part time for a dentist! And he was a little disappointed to find out he would be sharing with his brother. Oh, the agony of living with unreasonable parents!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Savor that tea!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLNh-7pJ5or7T32lYB4r0cmSb0htRzmY6EV7yuI37ZI64UTLNkKMZ3OlLvSnMkqHDY8G4Eh1HDSkW1UYPY2S6g2abR2-YDRcEXMJatEPCBuuxBJFw-8rmG-bsiQ0NfBnAZHF_2Jx6GtPh/s1600/P1070269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLNh-7pJ5or7T32lYB4r0cmSb0htRzmY6EV7yuI37ZI64UTLNkKMZ3OlLvSnMkqHDY8G4Eh1HDSkW1UYPY2S6g2abR2-YDRcEXMJatEPCBuuxBJFw-8rmG-bsiQ0NfBnAZHF_2Jx6GtPh/s200/P1070269.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why does this photo frighten me?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty relaxed for being headless!</td></tr>
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-22573012303973976572012-10-27T12:51:00.001-07:002012-10-28T14:36:38.720-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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My parents finally made the loooooong schlep from Wyoming to Oregon and back again this past week. Donald was gone for school but the boys and I had a great time showing them our little stretch of the Valley (as they say at the Willamette Valley Vineyard: "It's Willamette, Dammit!"). They got a decent taste of Salem, including our favorite beer and burger joint, Boon's Treasury, as well as an overnight at Cannon Beach, the Tillamook Cheese factory and a soccer game that was half downpour and half sunshine. Typical weather this time of year. There being only pine trees and cottonwoods in Wyoming, my mom was understandably in raptures over our beautiful kaleidoscope of fall colors.</div>
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It's been nearly two years since we've seen them and I think they were slightly startled to find that #1 is almost taller than them and #2 is not far behind. They were concerned that the adult sized University of Wyoming sweatshirts would be too big. They took one look at the boys and their appetites and soon realized there was nothing to worry about. And, being parents, they insisted on helping me redo the cracked and leaking breezeway roof between our school room and the house. Okay, so Bill did it with my mom instructing from the ground and I ran back and forth to Home Depot and kept everyone supplied with food and adult beverages. I know how to keep my workers happy! Thanks, again, Bill!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farmer Denise with a sick Cow</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh No - it's the "I'm nearly a Teenager Mug!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only an Oregon cheese factory uses a VW bus!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haystack Rock. Remember the Goonies? Filmed just north of here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aw, young love.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmUPVWuR4tYL6j4KwPQVYYWwBnGFbmJBpe33CcOa6SmXvLLAHYC7AP8dQnusjIp5CX_zbymv3u24-LsiGcprDDRoAk8bh3nMe1So4a15_uwKIDBAEjo5GpExKL9mzFqzjHRhS3gY4o6qg/s1600/P1070153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmUPVWuR4tYL6j4KwPQVYYWwBnGFbmJBpe33CcOa6SmXvLLAHYC7AP8dQnusjIp5CX_zbymv3u24-LsiGcprDDRoAk8bh3nMe1So4a15_uwKIDBAEjo5GpExKL9mzFqzjHRhS3gY4o6qg/s640/P1070153.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seems like a lot of bottles and glasses on that table. </td></tr>
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-86218289005803808152012-08-29T09:10:00.004-07:002012-08-29T09:13:05.071-07:00Nailed It!If only I would be more faithful in blogging I wouldn't find myself playing catch up. Of course, it would also help if I were more "techie" and new how to scan photos (and then find them again!) into my computer. <br />
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So the above photo is a super cool, framable x-ray of the latest Twist family emergency room visit. A couple of Friday's ago the boys were having a water fight in the backyard. Fairly benign and a great way to cool off during an Oregon heat wave, which is anything above 85 degrees. Feeling victorious at having dumped a bunch of water over his brother, #2 did a primeval jump in the air and landed on a random, sticking-straight-up-in-the-grass, six penny nail. </div>
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We had no building projects going on. Our backyard has been water fight central for many boys over the course of the summer. No one has ever even seen a nail. Yet, somehow, #2 managed to not just step on what may be the only nail in the yard but jump on it, driving it all the way into his heel bone. If you look carefully at the entry point of the nail you'll see the skin of his heel dimpled in. The nail is solid in the bone. </div>
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#1 was the one who raced into the house with the information because #2 was on his hands and knees, yelling. And, sadly, swearing. I had a little chat with my spouse about that part! My first inclination, as always, was to waffle about the severity of the injury. I really thought I could just pull it out. So, poor #2 is still on his hands and knees, soaking wet, covered in grass and his father and I are calmly discussing what course of action to take. </div>
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Donald finally decided to carry #2 inside while I phoned the ER who told us to definitely leave it in. When we arrived at the ER, wet and grassy, we were met with a wheel chair which #2 LOVED! They put us on a fast track, which meant three hours instead of six, apparently. He was started immediately on IV antibiotics because the doctor, who took one look and knew the nail was in the bone, was worried about bone infection. They did x-rays and started an IV sedative and pain med and, after a three hour wait, the doctor took a pair of standard pliers from a tool kit and yanked out the nail. Just about 1/2 a second! I seriously could have done that. And with the way #2 got nauseous from the sedative/pain med, he informed me that he wished it would have been done without the drugs since it was so fast. This is also the same kid, at age 5, who denied having his head numbed before receiving staples because it was one less poke. Aaah, a child after my own heart. Just get it over and done and stop mucking about with my insides, I always say!</div>
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By noon the next day he was thoroughly disgusted and bored with being sore and swollen and basically couch bound. I finally gave in and let him watch an obscene amount of Netflix cartoons. You'd think that a nail in the calcaneus would keep you limping for days but not him. Within three days he was walking normally. We went camping the following weekend with several families and he was running and being as wild as normal. Oh, to heal like a child!</div>
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On a different note, I finished the novel at the end of July and spent the first few weeks of this month editing. It's amazing to print out 325 pages of your own original work. It's also a very large stack of paper to keep from blowing around the house whenever someone turns on a fan. I have a working title but I'm not married to it and am still trying to come up with something better. I've begun sending query letters to publishers which is basically like baiting a hook with a fat, juicy worm. I'm just hoping to find a hungry publisher! And while we're on the topic, don't you think a trip to England for a cover shoot is something that could be a tax write off? Not that I can afford to go. Yet. I'm just dreaming . . . </div>
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And now I'm off to get an Oregon driver license!</div>
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-56018270305538213582012-07-17T13:23:00.001-07:002012-07-17T13:23:19.466-07:00Shameless Advertising (Reprise)I've done it before and I'm doing it again. This is the motorhome for which we traded our 5th wheel. We love it but would love being debt free even more! If you know anyone interested . . . <div>
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PS: The Mini is NOT for sale!!<br /><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi84zLtjl8ql3euZNvkGh9Zokj_zoD5EOlVOYx_jGXMDvSRC_1cJrFOrDvPAVSai6r9Yfv-Qy76soCT81sIydgadRxhrg27znsT8eXSGsjnR2uQhjQRmjE8ndULIFx1co6laAre65a5lqP2/s1600/P1060966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi84zLtjl8ql3euZNvkGh9Zokj_zoD5EOlVOYx_jGXMDvSRC_1cJrFOrDvPAVSai6r9Yfv-Qy76soCT81sIydgadRxhrg27znsT8eXSGsjnR2uQhjQRmjE8ndULIFx1co6laAre65a5lqP2/s400/P1060966.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously, the back!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kI9Kvs3k5i_AoEZOovG0LC_NnQajSFp2dQBb-qBwCm-AnsjiKeZwMmz0bToYaVULCXkkIIaFzxBOwH_gmzycc8rWBATvDC9u5VT9y_m_vZZhV0hMDKFzIrXpglx41N8YJw7pnUrBHnhN/s1600/P1060967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kI9Kvs3k5i_AoEZOovG0LC_NnQajSFp2dQBb-qBwCm-AnsjiKeZwMmz0bToYaVULCXkkIIaFzxBOwH_gmzycc8rWBATvDC9u5VT9y_m_vZZhV0hMDKFzIrXpglx41N8YJw7pnUrBHnhN/s400/P1060967.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Large slide out on this side.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsnjfKm-VrFTxevu2sNPHRSmhLXZAVVZRo6q3JH3uQhLB-pYOl3ythApPEaOnAjyO0Rs2W-kV6AQdBS-ZMb5PBsUXZDBRcg7vJ_7C3pCilrmQsgLX7uBJ2KWnbZ4iT23SJfXFDHtBqVGL/s1600/P1060968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsnjfKm-VrFTxevu2sNPHRSmhLXZAVVZRo6q3JH3uQhLB-pYOl3ythApPEaOnAjyO0Rs2W-kV6AQdBS-ZMb5PBsUXZDBRcg7vJ_7C3pCilrmQsgLX7uBJ2KWnbZ4iT23SJfXFDHtBqVGL/s400/P1060968.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Couch folds flat. Slide is not even out and there's tons of room.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJUzKJCjcnuuO5xJ27FP8w-lnbQmbS5WiDq8qyo6H7z40pYLAy3hLh0gMyEIF4BzK4nDPfSWpuwct6o7JcvccyVLOaFR8db2bZ6GGAvsohta_LqAazrYskTr6Y-jj2z5vxabYZQLzehuP_/s1600/P1060969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJUzKJCjcnuuO5xJ27FP8w-lnbQmbS5WiDq8qyo6H7z40pYLAy3hLh0gMyEIF4BzK4nDPfSWpuwct6o7JcvccyVLOaFR8db2bZ6GGAvsohta_LqAazrYskTr6Y-jj2z5vxabYZQLzehuP_/s400/P1060969.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinette folds flat as well.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-z_oKS1Is8d1Zi58xgzZCGaH-aSkQpfip8nGpknrVWbRGmfJA1BSUvcxoF9nkOBANys2o_AuLB_W2preIM_h6egUOT9608K0iIop-9LyPPjM-8zqAXw86TGObAMDHdKdHoUnmOlqR08r/s1600/P1060970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-z_oKS1Is8d1Zi58xgzZCGaH-aSkQpfip8nGpknrVWbRGmfJA1BSUvcxoF9nkOBANys2o_AuLB_W2preIM_h6egUOT9608K0iIop-9LyPPjM-8zqAXw86TGObAMDHdKdHoUnmOlqR08r/s400/P1060970.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bathroom is large enough to host a party!<br />Whole wall of cubbies and wardrobe space.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_URp6LPrGbxnPNTHf_YmALhH_KkpIsBDM-iN7d4ed8BMEr9n3hjzJiMy16u7HMhlsVJmj-hF6Myq5F7oSL9MF6BFHICO41IRAo5gvTZLUBkazCdp2_LKd5uDdHeW31E1UcI5a-pVb3Zo/s1600/P1060971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_URp6LPrGbxnPNTHf_YmALhH_KkpIsBDM-iN7d4ed8BMEr9n3hjzJiMy16u7HMhlsVJmj-hF6Myq5F7oSL9MF6BFHICO41IRAo5gvTZLUBkazCdp2_LKd5uDdHeW31E1UcI5a-pVb3Zo/s400/P1060971.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Queen size bedroom, nightstands are brilliant!<br />Tons of storage above and below the bed.</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-53248991627569623462012-07-15T15:12:00.002-07:002012-07-15T15:15:02.035-07:00I'm beginning to think that Twists and Turns was a propitious choice of name. While the blog started out with a singularly specific intent it has evolved along multiple rabbit trails. I mean, really, where else can you find a blog about full time RV travel, home buying and home renovating, vintage cars, neurotic Weimaraners and PTSD? This blog is a veritable cornucopia of information!<br />
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I've been thinking about PTSD lately and that I should maybe fill in some blanks with regard to my husband. It seems like we've become a normal American family busy with jobs, school, sports and church. I haven't written about PTSD in a long time because honestly, I forget about it. Chronic depression is not something I want to dwell on for any length of time. It comes and goes and the three non-depressed family members live our lives around it, accommodating when we can and moving forward despite it when we can't. It doesn't rule us and thankfully, its presence is usually short lived compared to the old days. After all, Donald is now employed as well as a full time student. <br />
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But it ain't easy.<br />
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For instance. On Saturdays, after I run and after Donald makes pancakes, we bicycle to the Salem Saturday Farmer's Market just to have coffee and to buy whatever produce and cheese catches our fancy. Blissfully, we are now able to leave the boys at home to watch Netflix cartoons in their underwear. This past Saturday we had a beautiful sunny morning and we enjoyed ourselves at the Market. Then we decided to go pick up the motorhome because the dealer was fixing a few minor things. By the time we came home, Donald was done in and had to go to bed. <br />
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At 11:30 am. <br />
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I get really frustrated when he goes to bed in the middle of the day because we're not talking a 15 minute power nap here. The only thing that gets him back up is that he has to go to work. Sometimes I get downright angry, other times I do a lot of heavy sighing and eye rolling. This past Saturday I was actually well behaved and didn't say anything until he woke up. When I asked him why he went to bed he explained that his depression was cycling through since picking up the RV. So I asked him to pinpoint why. Turns out the dealer and the DMV have messed up our license and it's not taken care of yet. <br />
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No big deal, right? In a normal family this is an inconvenient hiccup. Not in our family. Inexplicably, this is the type of thing that sends Donald over the edge and straight into bed. Honestly, don't try to think it through or rationalize. <br />
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Trust me. I've tried.<br />
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This is where I find my lack of patience an extremely unfortunate character flaw. It's my Achille's heel. I'm not compassionate in the best of circumstances and even less so when confronted with the same old thing, day after day, for nearly five years. Sometimes I do okay but other days I'm a horrible companion to the man I swore to love in sickness and in health. I wonder at God's sense of humour; I'm positive He has one. "Oh, yes, let's give the least compassionate woman on the planet to the man who is going to need bushels and bushels of it!"<br />
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Still, here we are, warts and all and just glad that we are given a new 24 hour period as a do-over for the previous one.<br />
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And it's not all bad. Donald is being promoted for the second time in less than a year at Target; he is moving out of security and into a senior leadership position while being groomed for an executive position back in the security department for the coming spring. His confidence level is not what it used to be but I see his potential and, maybe more importantly (because he doesn't listen to what <i>I</i> say!) so do the folks he works for. He's excited about the new position but also nervous.<br />
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He's also performing a wedding for a Navy shipmate the end of this month and he's nervous about anything to do with ministry. He'll be fine and it's a fairly low-key affair, as far as wedding go. He's also been hard at work on his dissertation and I'm very proud of him because he is not the scholarly type, never has been and never will be, and this puts him a year ahead of schedule. Really big deal for a lifelong procrastinator.<br />
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Just another Twist and Turn from my end of the world!Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-37042246547640479532012-07-08T18:42:00.000-07:002012-07-08T18:48:28.246-07:00Since I dropped the bombshell about writing my first novel I thought it would be appropriate to perhaps give an update on the process. First of all, I began March 21 and since then have written 21 chapters and 260 pages. That, in itself, far surpasses my dissertation and feels like a heck of an accomplishment. Come to think of is, it's been a heck of a lot more fun than my dissertation! Marginally less research though, which, for me, is never work. Geek is not skin deep with me; it goes clear to the bone.<br />
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If I could sum up the writing process in one word (and I can because this is my post!) it would have to be: Surprise. Everything about writing this story has been a surprise. What I am about to reveal is going to sound certifiably crazy; I recognise this and, after coming to grips with it, I'm now quite comfortable with it. Here is my dirty, little secret: these people are real. They talk to me (only in my head, duh!); I dream about them; I wake up at 2 in the morning with ideas and have to get up immediately and write. They say and do things while I'm writing that I never planned for them to say and do.<br />
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What, you say? How is this possible when I'm the author? My response: I have absolutely no idea. But I tell you true. I recently introduced a new character to the story with just the barest notion of her purpose. I wrote a full paragraph describing her without once stopping to consider what I was writing and now I'm twiddling with the notion of a second novel with her at the center. I have pictured particular scenes and then when read over what I had written I discovered everyone did what <i>they</i> wanted to do and I was utterly charmed with the results. Hopefully some publisher will be equally charmed and offer me an obscenely amazing contract!<br />
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The story is set at the end of World War II in one of my favourite villages in northern England. It's definitely a love story (never my genre of choice so another huge surprise) but there is heartbreak, huge life choices to make, a poisoning mystery, a lot of history and a blue Great Dane named Keeper. The characters are people who say and think things that depict, I hope, real life in a real time, which means mistakes are made and life is far from perfect but they have to learn to change, grow, and maybe even love again. Keeper has to learn that shuttlecocks are not his special chasing privilege.<br />
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I leave with you my protagonist's musings about returning to her childhood home after five years at war and after her husband has left her for a French woman. This a vulnerable thing to do but I'm interested to hear thoughts and/or similar writing experiences. (Someone please tell me I'm not alone in the universe!)<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'American Typewriter Condensed';"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oldfields had been a lovely place to grow
up. Aside from its fabulous proximity
just west of the Pennine Moor, a fantastic place for a ramble, on a clear day
from the back gardens one could just see the purple heathered Penistone Hill,
from which one could walk to Top Withens, long thought to be Emily Bronte’s
inspiration for Wuthering Heights.
Liz loved everything about the Yorkstone constructed country house,
especially the way its appearance altered according to light and shadows as
well as the weather. During an
early summer sunrise the traditional rusty red and brown stones blushed shades
of pink and deep mauve; if the day should darken into a thunderstorm, those
same stones appeared darkened and stained as though by the Viking blood that
was the genealogical inheritance of most of Yorkshire’s long time
residents. Yellowish inside,
Yorkstone has concretion lines of orange running through the stone, only seen
after an experienced delver rives it in two, thus, during a sunset, many times
the house smouldered in a blaze of fiery colours. Liz was astonished at how often the inorganic stone seemed
to breathe and change across the moods of a day, as beautiful as its
surroundings of living flora and fauna.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Yorkstone
was also liberally used to divide the pastures, surround the garden and hedge
off the drive. The massive, dry
stone walls had been present for hundreds of years and Liz marvelled at the
half-moon capstones of yellow sitting as sentries on the top of the wall,
silently keeping watch over Oldfields, aglow in the moonlight. As a little girl, on bright, sleepless
nights, Liz would lean out her open window trying to count each capstone,
losing count and starting again, until the seemingly never ending wall drifted
out of sight in the encroaching darkness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">It was
good to be home, a place Liz missed deeply and loved fiercely. Perhaps more importantly, it was a
place where she was loved fiercely in return. Such a haven is exactly where one takes a broken heart,
broken not so much for what Liz had lost in her faithless husband but for the
dreams she harboured of her future. At Oldfields, Liz would find rest, and, sustained by
serenity, support and fresh, moorland air, she would heal. </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;">So, no idea why the last paragraph won't double space and it won't let me fix it even though I cut and pasted directly from the book. It's sending my perfectionist tendencies into overdrive so I'm going to walk away and feed my family now.</span><br />
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</div>Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-5972338867003407602012-06-09T16:59:00.001-07:002012-06-09T16:59:05.923-07:00It's been brought to my attention by various means that I have been seriously neglectful of the blog. Honestly, what can I say? Starting blog because you are planning a yearlong RV trip and want to keep everyone informed and hopefully entertained is purposeful. Continuing the same blog when the RV trip is done and you've bought a house just doesn't seem exciting. Not enough alligators, breakdowns, lack of hot water and sewer hoses spewing over your spouse, I guess. <br />
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Not that I'm complaining about the sewer hose thing!<br />
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I suppose the purpose of this post is to play catch up once again. I'll feel like a more responsible blogger to my (20???) followers if I tell you what we've been up to and post the photos my mom has been asking for. I'm such a good girl! <br />
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So, for starters, I got a job. A real live job where I wear a dress sometimes. And heels. Don't get shocked; it's just Tuesdays and Thursdays. I'm doing bookkeeping and general reception for a tiny, old fashioned dental practice here in Salem. Really old fashioned. No fax, email or internet. I actually print out the billing statements and seal and stamp them the way we did in the good old days. Apparently the practice just graduated from an appointment book to a computer system in the last few years. <br />
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Shucks. I would have loved pencilling in appointments! There is just one dentist who does her own cleanings. No hygienist. There is an assistant who helps with the surgical stuff. And me. The job fell in my lap in an odd way. I met the dentist through a mutual friend back in February; we spent about two hours together but didn't really hit it off. For who knows what reason, when her bookkeeper resigned, she sent me an email asking if I wanted the job. Truly bizarre. When the email came, I didn't even remember who she was! I asked her why me and she literally said, "I wanted someone I didn't know."<br />
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Okay. Really weird but it is good to get out of the house and make a little money. Don arranged his schedule to be home on those days so he is doing school with the boys. That's also a big change because I'm learning that usually school doesn't get done the way I would do it, but it does actually get done. I just have to take a big breath and let it go.<br />
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We were sports crazy this spring with weekly swimming and nightly soccer/basketball practices. Back to back games on Saturdays but we really loved it. We've reached a time of life where our Saturdays are devoted to whatever the boys have going on but actually enjoy it. It must be my previous life as a cheerleader (how on <i>earth</i> did I ever do that?) but I absolutely cannot watch a game quietly. I'm nice, not a crazy critical, screaming parent. But I'm sure noisy! <br />
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Another new development is the discovery that with all the sports going on and having pre-teen boys, our food bill has skyrocketed. There is just not enough food in the house, according to them. It's astounding what they can put away and still be hungry. Just another new phase of our lives!<br />
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A big change has been the acquisition of a class A motorhome. Our 5th wheel has been on consignment since December and we got rid of our pickup shortly after. The RV was generating zero interest so we decided if we have to owe money on something ridiculously useless, we may has well have something useful. We were able to trade straight across for a 2000 Four Winds Infinity (35 foot). We took her out this past week for her maiden voyage and had a great time discovering one of Oregon's state parks. Having found out that as a disabled vet Donald can camp for free, we plan on getting familiar with as many state parks as we can until we can (please, God) sell this RV.<br />
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Maybe the last big news is that I've decided to write a book. I'm a little hesitant to say that because it's one thing to do a blog. A full blown novel is such an entirely different story (HA! -- get it?). Many people have told me to write about the whole PTSD thing and I've tried. Truly. But it just gets depressing. I think I need another decade or two for emotional cushioning. However, in March an idea literally just wandered into my head and I started writing. And writing. And writing. It's become a bit obsessive, actually. I hear the characters in my head all the time and sometimes they say and do things on paper that I never imagined. I have about 100 pages so far; I started chapter 9 this morning. I find myself feeling impatient, the way I do with a book I'm reading and I want to know what happens but I don't want it to end. It's a bit the same with writing. I want to know what happens, because I don't have it all worked out yet but I know I'll be sad when the whole thing is finished because the characters are becoming real to me, having lived with them for several months now. Sounds crazy, I know! Feels crazy to say it! Anyway, my brother-in-law encouraged me to use the blog as a platform for the book so maybe there will be excerpts along the way. <br />
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Now, I'll get on to the photos. We cut down every tree we had because they were hideous eyesores or one windstorm away from being an insurance liability. I've been busy gardening and repainting my kitchen walls and floor. Both turned out remarkably lovely, if I do say so myself. Sadly, we forgot the camera at every sporting event we attended this spring, so none of #1 and #2 in action! Aside from cutting down trees, we tore out the last of the carpet to discover some really beautiful wood that needs some professional refinishing and the boys and I ripped out three layers of linoleum in the kitchen in order to redo the floor myself. What I thought would be a few hours project turned into four twelve hour days and some very, very sore muscles. You decide if the finished floor is worth it!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There used to be six trees along this fence. The stump of the huge maple was fashioned into a throne of sorts! And yes, redoing the fence is this month's budgeted project.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Craigslist find, a 10 x 10 gazebo-turned garage.<br />Too bad there is now a 35 foot motorhome in this spot!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new wood in dire need of help but oh-so-much-better than the nasty carpet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend had a surprise 40th in May and I did a half sheet cake. . .</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhspd2N8sEqYo-fuEqXdVdopNFZbduh9CWe_dDNbPpdVglGuHEhgkFENRaYuJxtYO4m5r7sq52lhfowkT-dE5AVXpZfRJnEd_VFdAkXevTSUa8Qiwqd6gGmhTte1bbV5ZwAqonrqNKWhGYo/s1600/P1060945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhspd2N8sEqYo-fuEqXdVdopNFZbduh9CWe_dDNbPpdVglGuHEhgkFENRaYuJxtYO4m5r7sq52lhfowkT-dE5AVXpZfRJnEd_VFdAkXevTSUa8Qiwqd6gGmhTte1bbV5ZwAqonrqNKWhGYo/s320/P1060945.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">. . .almost 100 fairy cakes. . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">. . . and four dozen regular cupcakes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That same weekend, while tied to the kitchen making and decorating cakes . . .</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I decided I may as well paint. Crimson . . .</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and Brown Bread. Countertops are in the near future, too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys' creation from leftover homemade fondant.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And then #2 woke up 3 weeks ago and wanted a David Beckham haircut!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ripping out 3 layers of lino.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It took a whole day just to eliminate the green paper backing from the bottom layer.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht0tQzxkyWGlVkKlWze0QA2tm7k2i4w3oJ7kPyLjmcHwVIlG1OrCAOMFTyxGsZVnuuxs5Ji8lW2XGaixkIRI2WHEmefO8LIovVs-09s51o_l68ABZn891jXg-MEnjlYI9AgJJobWTKlCOq/s1600/P1060958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht0tQzxkyWGlVkKlWze0QA2tm7k2i4w3oJ7kPyLjmcHwVIlG1OrCAOMFTyxGsZVnuuxs5Ji8lW2XGaixkIRI2WHEmefO8LIovVs-09s51o_l68ABZn891jXg-MEnjlYI9AgJJobWTKlCOq/s320/P1060958.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then there were all the tacks and nails to rip out!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First coat of Brown Bread.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_OrZ5CDNI1Q5YfBMHhha4SZPbDWmMLlHFATu-cWnr1XUYGJD6e2WAlmamYjqCMOkdoYr1Eow_kG4W-nBP5yUGXrvlnu7pMeu1L5iKxqgVs6RjIESp5m-EeqcgiyNyig69kVYW6fLAHtDF/s1600/P1060960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_OrZ5CDNI1Q5YfBMHhha4SZPbDWmMLlHFATu-cWnr1XUYGJD6e2WAlmamYjqCMOkdoYr1Eow_kG4W-nBP5yUGXrvlnu7pMeu1L5iKxqgVs6RjIESp5m-EeqcgiyNyig69kVYW6fLAHtDF/s320/P1060960.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The squares took another whole day of measuring, masking, and painting. My knees were killing me!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Less than $100 and I have a brand new floor! Nice, right?</td></tr>
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<br />Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-91574018323003741252012-04-01T17:07:00.003-07:002012-04-01T17:10:59.561-07:00Happy AnniversaryOne year ago today the Twist family rolled their slightly crippled RV (remember, we had bottomed out our black tank drain hose at Mount Shasta) into Salem. We intended to be here for a two days and our friend Doug keeps joking that it has been the longest April Fool's Day ever. Oddly enough, today is also Palm Sunday which is the one year anniversary of our arrival at St. Timothy's Episcopal Church. Interesting that the one year marker for both events falls on the same day. Someone at church today told me that our family is a great testimony to following God even when we don't know why. I actually laughed out loud when she said it. Personally, I feel like a great failure in my faith because I spend way too much time trying to figure out the "why," which totally gets in the way of just having faith. Of just breathing rather than the gasping that it so second nature to me.<br />
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Living in Oregon is still such a surprise to me, having never set a toe over the state line before a year ago today. I really think God has such a sense of humor. We bottomed out our RV, thought we would be in Salem long enough to fix it and see old friends, and here we are, a year later. Homeowners. Jobholders. Oregon driver's licenses. Well, Don anyway. I still have to take care of that little detail. Taxpayers. Upstanding citizens with great neighbors, friends, and a wonderful church family. I'm positive God chuckles at me a lot, especially when I think I have things figured out. <br />
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Speaking of figuring things out, I am trying to figure out gardening and landscaping. For years I've held the conviction that somewhere inside me is a a gardener longing to be released. All that was needed was some soil of her own. I now have soil. And grass. And weeds. And trees. And a drainage problem. And no real idea of how to proceed. I also have a landscape consultant who, in a free consultation on Tuesday, will attempt to tell me what to do with all of the above. <br />
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I'm a brave girl and I love to have a good project so last week, armed with a rusty pruning saw, managed to take out 8 of 10 trees in the yard. I'm feeling reams of guilt because my friend Cassy made me promise not to get rid of the trees in the front yard for one year but when the landscaping guy, on his first visit, agreed that the trees were way too large for my yard and were probably wreaking havoc on my main water pipe, and subsequently whipped out his chainsaw, my promise crumbled in the presence of such temptation. I will humbly beg her forgiveness when I see her but man, does my lawn look better! In three and a half minutes he had both trees down, after Donald and I have been moaning about them for three and half months! Inspired, I went crazy on the trees in the backyard, all by myself. I issued handsaws to the boys, promised financial remuneration, and we spent the next three days cutting limbs into serviceable, S'more worthy, fire pit wood. I got to some crazy heights and actually fell out of one tree, escaping with only a large bruise. I'm pretty sure I made my next door neighbor, Saul, pretty nervous. And the guy across the street actually yelled to me, "Old Steve is rolling in his grave."<br />
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Steve is the deceased husband of the previous owner who not only took great pride in having the nicest lawn in a 10 block radius but also spent copious amounts of time actually watering his trees. Call me crazy but this is Oregon. There are only two months of the year when water doesn't pour down in great torrents from the sky on a daily basis. We discovered quickly that cutting down trees brings the people out. This is the great treehugger state and neighbors who have been hibernating all winter came out to see what we were doing. Cutting down trees is not The Done Thing in Oregon. We do plan on replacing some of them with fruit trees and other edible vegetation so maybe that will make up for our seemingly wanton destruction. And if they get too terribly angry, I know where to find sharp tools!<br />
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Here's to another year in Salem!Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-7204792705694292752012-03-01T09:38:00.001-08:002012-03-01T09:39:47.023-08:00Snow DayTuesday morning found me studying trees. A good portion of the trees here have just the slightest fuzz of green, just enough beginning buds to really spark the heart into believing that spring must certainly, after a dark and dismal winter, be right around the corner. I have grape hyacinth in my front yard. The sprightly heads of daffodils are dancing everywhere in Salem. I am busy sketching and planning my garden. And then I wake up this morning to this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5PXRuPXfkB_rWayWUthriRpi0hcGv37WzBX__bYax0Bd_6bwHt6nc9bAiG3xoDGaGVO9CXkQav0vAHJLKu3Ab2YKw_nr_JfHB1OWXYQ1g_NEsskKobrbM5aCUD8LQ4_jVg0W1RjUgpGJ/s1600/P1060883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5PXRuPXfkB_rWayWUthriRpi0hcGv37WzBX__bYax0Bd_6bwHt6nc9bAiG3xoDGaGVO9CXkQav0vAHJLKu3Ab2YKw_nr_JfHB1OWXYQ1g_NEsskKobrbM5aCUD8LQ4_jVg0W1RjUgpGJ/s400/P1060883.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor old girl, she's practically shivering!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You have to understand something. We don't get much snow in Salem. My first Oregon snow occurred in January and it was fat, thick and very wet flakes that collapsed wearily on the green grass and disappeared immediately. A week or two ago it happened again. It was pouring rain at two this morning so the temperature clearly dropped sometime before dawn and this paltry amount is the most we've had in the almost year I've lived here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This "accumulation" has led to an official, school closing, snow day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes, please. Digest that statement, all of you who live anywhere else. I lived five long, blizzardy, frigid years in the tundra of Minnesota and only twice was school ever cancelled. Once, for a freak 24 hour storm that dumped more than two feet of snow and left five hundred college kids to cavort madly in its wake, celebrating the joy of being childish again. The second was when the temperature dropped, with the wind chill factored in, to 80 below. And yes, that was my scheduled moving day and doggone it, we wrapped long johns around our faces and moved! It was warmer in my freezer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The sun is shining here today, something of a rare and welcome sight. The houses across the street have direct sunshine right now and their snow is already melted, at 9:30 am. This adds to my bemusement regarding the snow day. Shakespeare has been oddly calm this morning because there are no kids walking to school for him bark his "you're too close to my house, back off" routine. Really, you couldn't even begin a snowball, let alone a snowman out there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, that pretty much covers any big news for me. I have to go scrape my car (I'll have to use a broom because I don't even own a scraper!) and run some errands. Should be quiet out there!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3xuPztePZosW3VOhn97nAWCxnTTMaCXsmdS3iLD5K2hjj7pP0BJsxlIabqafgh-oZSVcQf_SFB_OGWB6f3jfL8TE3zmufWrUK92HmQochI9-1LcVssTUs6F3tKfLezEbT10S5Kcm-ui0/s1600/P1060882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3xuPztePZosW3VOhn97nAWCxnTTMaCXsmdS3iLD5K2hjj7pP0BJsxlIabqafgh-oZSVcQf_SFB_OGWB6f3jfL8TE3zmufWrUK92HmQochI9-1LcVssTUs6F3tKfLezEbT10S5Kcm-ui0/s400/P1060882.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This photo looks east so yes, that is the sun coming up!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-5807449673280137232012-02-08T13:28:00.000-08:002012-02-08T13:32:53.939-08:00Home Tour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YLZTSYo_afBQzSzAfBpAvPxxIBLfW9yOiVmmguyiknCEKxB1zSmpU8Og_RAS24uF2YLEepwR6p7THstVSEYWyRvKwBTuc3grQzTC8qOKP9ASKkGzFXI6_99feX1NHOcB0tP8bO8d3TDh/s1600/P1060839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YLZTSYo_afBQzSzAfBpAvPxxIBLfW9yOiVmmguyiknCEKxB1zSmpU8Og_RAS24uF2YLEepwR6p7THstVSEYWyRvKwBTuc3grQzTC8qOKP9ASKkGzFXI6_99feX1NHOcB0tP8bO8d3TDh/s320/P1060839.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">circa 1930<br />
Two large Japanese maples on the front lawn.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is post is mostly for my mom, my AJ and my friend Tegan, who have all, in various ways, hounded me for photographic evidence of my house. Here you go girls!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD6u-yKmdDYBFS-prGyRHnTOih7ArT-DnpGq40bu84WoknsWQDzao-o1HLj9sggK-KONr0_bK7hn7ADekM_kgqErz-lri4s3JS5r1bPBOQwixPoVcqt2ePkArqNAM2FL8dxsqznyyTy_wJ/s1600/P1060840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD6u-yKmdDYBFS-prGyRHnTOih7ArT-DnpGq40bu84WoknsWQDzao-o1HLj9sggK-KONr0_bK7hn7ADekM_kgqErz-lri4s3JS5r1bPBOQwixPoVcqt2ePkArqNAM2FL8dxsqznyyTy_wJ/s200/P1060840.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOgNwOkMu9Ssd63PdD2lj73I9f7f84P5C5W56VMPSLPlx3tr18RGGTxtRNsQAbZKjvZuxLXMCxYYWTRxDd6E6gU0jikA057M4eaavjpX8A_oa9J0zKKDV99xR_maEfeouy9oW3coODfWM/s1600/P1060848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOgNwOkMu9Ssd63PdD2lj73I9f7f84P5C5W56VMPSLPlx3tr18RGGTxtRNsQAbZKjvZuxLXMCxYYWTRxDd6E6gU0jikA057M4eaavjpX8A_oa9J0zKKDV99xR_maEfeouy9oW3coODfWM/s320/P1060848.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living room, to the right of the door. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHTOWwczX8Mc_NEsuQ5tiSn_u75jcSeGWk46WWBQrRybLgLUR8SLJy6ctDItSEJHLeC1AzfFSQWJeBRMFXL2cJviTGWDn-3xwu_GbrwLBg-k_VrK85PEocv8w7Lb-HoOdyodVHtgiiIi_/s1600/P1060850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHTOWwczX8Mc_NEsuQ5tiSn_u75jcSeGWk46WWBQrRybLgLUR8SLJy6ctDItSEJHLeC1AzfFSQWJeBRMFXL2cJviTGWDn-3xwu_GbrwLBg-k_VrK85PEocv8w7Lb-HoOdyodVHtgiiIi_/s320/P1060850.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dining room, to the left of the door.<br />
Yes, it came apple green and yes, we are leaving it for now.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzyp6VdfeeXuh1Lor0PQpTNiSP5SaMMZKW1z5DOniugPZhCIRACj3ilcRfyWuen7KWYjs-BTvsR2xztZYtO95WJ380CvJtIWY2bIn09qvHBEYlTYrIRbyyPkiOVyJPzfCZw3ulZKTu6xW/s1600/P1060862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzyp6VdfeeXuh1Lor0PQpTNiSP5SaMMZKW1z5DOniugPZhCIRACj3ilcRfyWuen7KWYjs-BTvsR2xztZYtO95WJ380CvJtIWY2bIn09qvHBEYlTYrIRbyyPkiOVyJPzfCZw3ulZKTu6xW/s320/P1060862.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wise words, given to me years ago by a good friend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFyQELvIEOqMNA3ViMjJZ1B-o4iZHJIFu8NCV8XZs4INpod9iCnu-t7b4PpB9w_rLMaxnFjHWpjcM2mZhzJ3nThBio5NHo2MY83qRp7-R4en8T7ZCcJf8e7WD1PtNwL8e2U22s-rRDFyB/s1600/P1060860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFyQELvIEOqMNA3ViMjJZ1B-o4iZHJIFu8NCV8XZs4INpod9iCnu-t7b4PpB9w_rLMaxnFjHWpjcM2mZhzJ3nThBio5NHo2MY83qRp7-R4en8T7ZCcJf8e7WD1PtNwL8e2U22s-rRDFyB/s320/P1060860.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking into my Pumpkin Toast kitchen.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdnLPLxb_FA2tWFMrEntaYyL2iCTrksRHCXF_OeNd3fLC7TJd9y1oo1JfWz-2LlwYGqY857v_p7u8mdp9JUKnPl8onwu5MlNvZzLobRMJ1GMJlDRXCszngaYkghxjctqEZipPi7DtDgjd/s1600/P1060861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdnLPLxb_FA2tWFMrEntaYyL2iCTrksRHCXF_OeNd3fLC7TJd9y1oo1JfWz-2LlwYGqY857v_p7u8mdp9JUKnPl8onwu5MlNvZzLobRMJ1GMJlDRXCszngaYkghxjctqEZipPi7DtDgjd/s320/P1060861.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out of the kitchen into the dining area.<br />
Love the arch?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsL-FMJCz1vN9CJz6AgOY2JcmEfYMAbNluMfkYik-3UFWm7uaA_4AuivNmyl_1gzF1p6RMO3GCALUsNE7MbnismVlc0GdwZncrj2BCEqmqOKBwos5kBtE-iP90AeZU9XJdqTr4kMfCJ92/s1600/P1060858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsL-FMJCz1vN9CJz6AgOY2JcmEfYMAbNluMfkYik-3UFWm7uaA_4AuivNmyl_1gzF1p6RMO3GCALUsNE7MbnismVlc0GdwZncrj2BCEqmqOKBwos5kBtE-iP90AeZU9XJdqTr4kMfCJ92/s320/P1060858.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool new backsplash. My handiwork, thank you!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQ4j2u6ADyAtfq1yeN_x-YckCuqsr-D91RG1N6QTquNHC-Liw41JAfdSbseyYwhAq2IyJkApkVAF7RNJyXDmqGl1_9wNywbZdmEmITYOJ-NX8WO0XAFjeSzi1iaZcsk9hiLuw-BU2Gkse/s1600/P1060859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQ4j2u6ADyAtfq1yeN_x-YckCuqsr-D91RG1N6QTquNHC-Liw41JAfdSbseyYwhAq2IyJkApkVAF7RNJyXDmqGl1_9wNywbZdmEmITYOJ-NX8WO0XAFjeSzi1iaZcsk9hiLuw-BU2Gkse/s320/P1060859.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the end of the kitchen, another arch, facing the back door and the pantry.<br />
And since we are facing the back door. . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfgwZ3MQbNi34l5iXe0BEUaqZbdygn038-mQITEdBI6TqfLpBgo6ijW9AMe8GPFFgL2EwqGn5yyi0toGsH29IEEFLHxKvXOXBzzZ2qAxbYf0LXNxkL81SUC1o1NL_Rw5SCgiTe9Wg3Vcz_/s1600/P1060851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfgwZ3MQbNi34l5iXe0BEUaqZbdygn038-mQITEdBI6TqfLpBgo6ijW9AMe8GPFFgL2EwqGn5yyi0toGsH29IEEFLHxKvXOXBzzZ2qAxbYf0LXNxkL81SUC1o1NL_Rw5SCgiTe9Wg3Vcz_/s320/P1060851.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To the Right of the back door. Large concrete patio area and storage shed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6D7nBo5k742ehOSfCo21DUlWJj1K4dEHYCVJzNpXxeV69cSGaElglp5dAWOlkFlzXIgvb_6G8-P5blHdPya0de47dQJAF2g6FQjAHSKFP2jxqsE3NMo3HJWdbJEK-me6oPGSSGnXmZt7/s1600/P1060852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6D7nBo5k742ehOSfCo21DUlWJj1K4dEHYCVJzNpXxeV69cSGaElglp5dAWOlkFlzXIgvb_6G8-P5blHdPya0de47dQJAF2g6FQjAHSKFP2jxqsE3NMo3HJWdbJEK-me6oPGSSGnXmZt7/s320/P1060852.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right of the back yard</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzxe0NpTzephJ9Kzy4VxfPsGFLmEzAW31JCVeErwwvWMc8myr-XFyyFA7qw9kMoKBl1gYSecHrabDcVJhNcR6KV25aQ1JezHMV65Jhyphenhyphen84dqbR2SqRxDqOwk77Jj-uYYpNWPFS7EVorVNw/s1600/P1060853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzxe0NpTzephJ9Kzy4VxfPsGFLmEzAW31JCVeErwwvWMc8myr-XFyyFA7qw9kMoKBl1gYSecHrabDcVJhNcR6KV25aQ1JezHMV65Jhyphenhyphen84dqbR2SqRxDqOwk77Jj-uYYpNWPFS7EVorVNw/s320/P1060853.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left of the back yard and garage. See the three raised beds, Tegan?!<br />
I can't explain the tire. I blame it on Thomas!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbY6zW7BkRxXYatvMpkUVP3IyqY-7eLbNm6xDteHzmyMRzPXH83VJ701s9QY4biPRo3wmE3r37f_RmwfVLWhkAofxoToGLrI4CJiujr320y6aWyoEBV0Yb5UL6gHn1BmiEdAOvyl7q6xtl/s1600/P1060856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbY6zW7BkRxXYatvMpkUVP3IyqY-7eLbNm6xDteHzmyMRzPXH83VJ701s9QY4biPRo3wmE3r37f_RmwfVLWhkAofxoToGLrI4CJiujr320y6aWyoEBV0Yb5UL6gHn1BmiEdAOvyl7q6xtl/s320/P1060856.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The school room is in the heated, insulated garage! <br />
Look at those boys, hard at work! <br />
Behind Thomas is a row of built in cupboards and drawers.<br />
The wall behind William is also lined with book cases<br />
and the washer/dryer is in this room as well.<br />
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Let's get back inside because this is Oregon and I'm getting wet!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbjgsl06KIfeusoFm6fwenBr5MQYO2aQfitoYWqTAH-WSqrQ1WQno4qqRtM0h14J8Nmu_X3WW0wDRv_J8Rpvlv1hXhWGi5ZEE11wP1CZnm6cOTImHtRbgS51nOBSIwPwPeKl97NkWtpvL/s1600/P1060842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbjgsl06KIfeusoFm6fwenBr5MQYO2aQfitoYWqTAH-WSqrQ1WQno4qqRtM0h14J8Nmu_X3WW0wDRv_J8Rpvlv1hXhWGi5ZEE11wP1CZnm6cOTImHtRbgS51nOBSIwPwPeKl97NkWtpvL/s200/P1060842.jpg" width="150" /> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZQl6b4RsigYlg4m9AoYjQBHjYwOzUohpiDU2XpgjpaJOGtBGKCxl3S02LE24UzfQWqUpQoGWV-wBD5pNd9zzo5PvjZBfN0-C2CHigWPYX2cz4qZHnOEE3IPchPfgONZ_c1fGjtreHY6x/s1600/P1060841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZQl6b4RsigYlg4m9AoYjQBHjYwOzUohpiDU2XpgjpaJOGtBGKCxl3S02LE24UzfQWqUpQoGWV-wBD5pNd9zzo5PvjZBfN0-C2CHigWPYX2cz4qZHnOEE3IPchPfgONZ_c1fGjtreHY6x/s200/P1060841.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br />
Entry into the bath and the vanity. No, I didn't choose the asparagus green and yes, I will be repainting to something less vile!<br />
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The master bedroom is to the right of the bathroom and stairs to the left.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOAguPXl4rkuzgM-Uaj-mPhF_d07paU3JHMZ0jLTtZ_HoY0JB7OxR22RhZv-IfKdXwrnrhO_QTL7cgZfPWw_jxQxgHuE75CodOBUiYIR0_PNjYV4ir0tcgKLbjoTSuHXc-Js4m_KQN1mVV/s1600/P1060866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOAguPXl4rkuzgM-Uaj-mPhF_d07paU3JHMZ0jLTtZ_HoY0JB7OxR22RhZv-IfKdXwrnrhO_QTL7cgZfPWw_jxQxgHuE75CodOBUiYIR0_PNjYV4ir0tcgKLbjoTSuHXc-Js4m_KQN1mVV/s320/P1060866.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Have a peer into my bedroom!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgudf3Tm0ggf7BocCVb1yNZsPEm_dwr6bDAjNTVGc1dSFqBhyphenhyphentL7yE7LBYpMTq9l8y6vW2PGacYA0SflMc_T0qiMUvyI8YH1LzDHmc-3MPoQ5pnejdLOJwZABIZUF9qODI3CP6ovhTS-wnB/s1600/P1060869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgudf3Tm0ggf7BocCVb1yNZsPEm_dwr6bDAjNTVGc1dSFqBhyphenhyphentL7yE7LBYpMTq9l8y6vW2PGacYA0SflMc_T0qiMUvyI8YH1LzDHmc-3MPoQ5pnejdLOJwZABIZUF9qODI3CP6ovhTS-wnB/s320/P1060869.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that's my street sign from Portsmouth!<br />
It's ancient and it came down in a Nor'easter.<br />
I "rescued" it!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrqiC_mGY-Q3G05l3lRfvZIFuFIwynrj2T0FsIpyX3AiXsN-wk7b4o7Bv6cQyQYUQzrD_40NZ0nj0DFLjNfCf3zGRf9LF5idg9xoQia8FzwIfzUU0Y8sHgqugPbowI1nke3JdhEFalJ0x/s1600/P1060870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrqiC_mGY-Q3G05l3lRfvZIFuFIwynrj2T0FsIpyX3AiXsN-wk7b4o7Bv6cQyQYUQzrD_40NZ0nj0DFLjNfCf3zGRf9LF5idg9xoQia8FzwIfzUU0Y8sHgqugPbowI1nke3JdhEFalJ0x/s320/P1060870.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The color is Tate Olive, same as in William's room.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXW7vYb59WoUlIfA8YVm3J586QzCMIrzrE0EB_kloq60qH_eEHbeip32YbhJklq6jmdeqj8WhQTqsfFbArwvuzQB6MmbO9bGUjGaDnUxWwPp794h9g9EwGU7y2UfzCPWoskvnYbEBNysl_/s1600/P1060845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXW7vYb59WoUlIfA8YVm3J586QzCMIrzrE0EB_kloq60qH_eEHbeip32YbhJklq6jmdeqj8WhQTqsfFbArwvuzQB6MmbO9bGUjGaDnUxWwPp794h9g9EwGU7y2UfzCPWoskvnYbEBNysl_/s320/P1060845.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shall we go upstairs? <br />
The stairs and the second floor had horrible blue carpet which we tore out to find lovely hardwood painted in brown.<br />
We will be refinishing floors, hopefully when the weather is nicer. The carpet in the LR will also come out because those floors are hardwood as well. And UNpainted! Whew!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsQzfeFoeMrsSCxEpSRNE1ealCCLkBr3wcAMrUzgpidFNWWWZP43HlqVWtRFz5WZozlxo8zHpDAsTc4rImAECzyhVfMDgiZF5kBErpcA8N-gRNU7mDbrLG8usVRh9hDoBa8_EqCUf6SYP/s1600/P1060844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsQzfeFoeMrsSCxEpSRNE1ealCCLkBr3wcAMrUzgpidFNWWWZP43HlqVWtRFz5WZozlxo8zHpDAsTc4rImAECzyhVfMDgiZF5kBErpcA8N-gRNU7mDbrLG8usVRh9hDoBa8_EqCUf6SYP/s200/P1060844.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Landing to the L and the R.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqN_NmhEVRGmDVqm7gawJPPL9pypTdJJ65MB3uChJdP-yk6CN91mS_wZhFUu5oC-d6dtGgkh2xWl8nJ266Zwyu4Bofv4HeKFnbi34bQmxBQ0NDV-ZLDES-EE5ptL_mxo9S8DByGo7xzVs/s1600/P1060843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqN_NmhEVRGmDVqm7gawJPPL9pypTdJJ65MB3uChJdP-yk6CN91mS_wZhFUu5oC-d6dtGgkh2xWl8nJ266Zwyu4Bofv4HeKFnbi34bQmxBQ0NDV-ZLDES-EE5ptL_mxo9S8DByGo7xzVs/s200/P1060843.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the built in cupboard?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGwJipx4dfEJZG2htK85HkfoLdCdL4O9fXr8wpj6Q5ADj9a1FZNo2eiY7qiD4ezEgPLvnQ2cm85ir9Qq9xIRYQ3WgiFKuwqK4KFwk5VQICmmhL4On_IG-_q9gETlFaVoCLgWoAmFTTw9V/s1600/P1060863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGwJipx4dfEJZG2htK85HkfoLdCdL4O9fXr8wpj6Q5ADj9a1FZNo2eiY7qiD4ezEgPLvnQ2cm85ir9Qq9xIRYQ3WgiFKuwqK4KFwk5VQICmmhL4On_IG-_q9gETlFaVoCLgWoAmFTTw9V/s320/P1060863.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William's room. <br />
Look at that built in cupboard and window seat!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_G2MBOI3wygoPwkDtDMxk8gNh4k8saHl2trOmyrSvzv4O2gFRb_1bEQBYV-O8cn7N9xxLNP9G5QOR7HZyWKarj4mJ5pXXA8LFWnMue2CYurMDdLg6HRYrB_0Xnsf-DCm3hraS5Kg7gyXs/s1600/P1060864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_G2MBOI3wygoPwkDtDMxk8gNh4k8saHl2trOmyrSvzv4O2gFRb_1bEQBYV-O8cn7N9xxLNP9G5QOR7HZyWKarj4mJ5pXXA8LFWnMue2CYurMDdLg6HRYrB_0Xnsf-DCm3hraS5Kg7gyXs/s320/P1060864.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The other half, and another built in cupboard.<br />
It's behind the huge Triceratops that, believe it or not, was<br />
in the RV with us. It's a leftover from VBS that he won't be parted with!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2K59GJdHPDCzY5AbGSVnpmsq1KQRKIrEFyX0Shv1xDEGcMaQAhTiD2hlmFNG0vEey-E6yKm2eO3upkSVP6BRUWQz-P_RFs5buiwfzZ3zZrqpIsFphOXBoowATtvop5XgW-q2Q0eyqbF-r/s1600/P1060865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2K59GJdHPDCzY5AbGSVnpmsq1KQRKIrEFyX0Shv1xDEGcMaQAhTiD2hlmFNG0vEey-E6yKm2eO3upkSVP6BRUWQz-P_RFs5buiwfzZ3zZrqpIsFphOXBoowATtvop5XgW-q2Q0eyqbF-r/s320/P1060865.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQaFd7rp245M5FqGyQvzesYq0KbBYndqLVwI0-599DrjM32ZZevF_nPh_CJ8fDLjyC5Ewq_0DUYR-2E70jYEd9DPAMVhuWfDhT3Qw49pPmX9BgDVpfD6Dgl0znL3B66zmv_N6HSHI7Vv5/s1600/P1060846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQaFd7rp245M5FqGyQvzesYq0KbBYndqLVwI0-599DrjM32ZZevF_nPh_CJ8fDLjyC5Ewq_0DUYR-2E70jYEd9DPAMVhuWfDhT3Qw49pPmX9BgDVpfD6Dgl0znL3B66zmv_N6HSHI7Vv5/s320/P1060846.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas' built ins in his Columbia Blue bedroom. His choice.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1nKiSD4Vbi1TP8iK0wn_8Kb42wM3g2RJCMTUcM9iNjRay1tM4V5GaUPE4HvDHfv50325DDeKsfbv0ENUQetzl3-G661gMJRwNZv3M2gmPJM4DXBJydKHlbqxoAZf4373x3r-B2eQRbI7/s1600/P1060847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1nKiSD4Vbi1TP8iK0wn_8Kb42wM3g2RJCMTUcM9iNjRay1tM4V5GaUPE4HvDHfv50325DDeKsfbv0ENUQetzl3-G661gMJRwNZv3M2gmPJM4DXBJydKHlbqxoAZf4373x3r-B2eQRbI7/s320/P1060847.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His unmade beds as well!<br />
I promised photos, not a perfectly tidy house!<br />
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</td></tr>
</tbody></table>There you go! Inside and out, bottom to top. 1,008 square feet, cozy as can be. We love it!<br />
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</div>Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-83494549821831855652012-02-04T17:51:00.000-08:002012-02-04T17:53:12.219-08:00In MemoriamI remember the first time I met Aunt Linda; it was at a family reunion and I wasn't even part of the family yet. It's fairly nerve wracking to meet a boyfriend's family en masse, especially when you aren't even engaged. I felt like such an outsider. Aunt Linda pulled me aside, sat down with me in a quiet corner and asked me lots of questions. When our conversation was over I really felt that she wanted to know me as a person, not just as potential family. Since that day, I have loved her for nearly twenty years.<br />
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Today my heart is heavy because yesterday, Aunt Linda ended her decades long, in-and-out of remission, battle with cancer and is now at perfect peace, even more beautiful, with a full head of hair and a completely healthy body. I just know that her eyes, always so sparkly and interested, are even more aglow.<br />
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Aunt Linda was an avid horsewoman, North Dakota born and a farm girl at heart. She traveled the world alongside her husband, Uncle Delbert. How my soul grieves for him at the loss of a fifty year plus best friend, lover, and soul mate. Together they raised a son and daughter and cherished their grandchildren, making efforts of time and travel to be with them.<br />
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Aunt Linda was a supporter. She, with my future mother-in-law, bought me seven cookbooks the Christmas that Donald and I were engaged. I think she was a little worried for her nephew! She flew from Washington to Minnesota for our wedding. She wrote letters of encouragement when we had miscarriages. She wrote personal notes to us in her Christmas letter. When we were stationed in Washington state we were fortunate enough to share our Thanksgivings with her. Aunt Linda's most valuable support, to me, is something I only recently found out.<br />
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Donald's grandma, Aunt Linda's mother, prayed for her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and each of their families every single day. By name. Having been privy to Grandma's morning devotions many times on the farm, I can attest that this was a lengthy exercise. When Grandma died in 2009 I felt a great sense of sorrow at the loss of this tremendous gift of love because I didn't know anyone else, besides my mother, so faithful and devout to pray for me, by name, Every. Single. Day.<br />
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When I began this blog it was under a time of massive sadness and upheaval. Aunt Linda turned out to be one of my most avid readers, evidenced by the frequent comments she left for me. One day she simply mentioned that she had been praying for Donald, and me, and the boys, every day and would continue to do so. I was beyond moved to know that evidently she picked up right where Grandma left off. I do not, for one minute, doubt her sincerity or honesty. To my soul, I know that she prayed for us daily. By name. With all her heart. <br />
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What a powerful legacy.<br />
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I hadn't seen Aunt Linda since 2007. I never took the time to thank her for befriending a young girl considering marriage into her huge family. I never took the time to verbally appreciate her steadfast love, affection, and devotion. I do so, now. Aunt Linda, thank you for being such an exemplary woman who loved Jesus, the great outdoors and her family. Thank you for being my friend, and my Aunt, and for being so faithful over so many years when we never even saw each other. I will miss you here on earth and know that our reunion in heaven will be unimaginably sweet.Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-46317777581909617712012-01-14T14:52:00.000-08:002012-01-14T14:52:09.835-08:00Homeowner Highs and LowsI love having my own house. I love knowing that I won't have to pay for nail holes or damage inflicted by my children. No, they haven't yet but it's only a matter of time! I love that I can paint my walls Olive Green, Pumpkin Toast, and Columbia Blue. I love looking at my backyard and imagining fresh produce for a summer evening al fresco meal and gorgeous flowers on a spring morning. I love talking about the renovations we'd like to do over the next twenty years. A second bathroom rates highly by everyone!<br />
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What I do not love is when the heat exchangers on my furnace crack in half two weeks after closing and I don't have a landlord to call. Or when my dishwasher suddenly refuses to drain and I find myself bailing slimy, murky water by hand at five in the morning. Then there is my toilet which, all the sudden, is intermittently making asthmatic sucking and gasping noises. Very disconcerting when actually sitting on it!<br />
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The good news is that our seller purchased a home warranty and all of these things are covered, minus service fees and installation. More good news is that we know for sure our home is extremely well insulated because it took two weeks for the brand new furnace to arrive and be installed. Two weeks without heat, in January! We ran two tiny space heaters (RV leftovers) and stayed reasonably toasty. We won't get a whole new dishwasher and it will take two weeks (must be a standard!) to get the parts but it will be good as new. As for the toilet, we'd love any suggestions from anyone who has even a thimbleful of plumbing knowledge. <br />
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We have several small issues with both our plumbing and our decrepit electrical system; we realize these will be major areas of renovation. Is it horrible to find myself half-heartedly hoping they will both go kaput before the warranty runs out? <br />
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Tomorrow marks our one month anniversary in the house and the honeymoon has not worn off yet. Each of us agrees that it is even better than the "perfect" house we were in last summer and even though we'd love to spend time on a sandy beach somewhere south during these grey, Salem days, we are all quite content to be putting down roots!Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-32593128876310804902012-01-01T07:32:00.000-08:002012-01-01T07:33:10.196-08:00Happy New Year!Moving into your own home is one heck of an adventure! We didn't get the keys (for one bureaucratic reason or another) until the evening of the 15th. I spent some seriously long hours painting and cleaning; the refrigerator had taken on a fuzzy green life of its own, unfortunately. We had an amazing crew of friends help us move; as one group was hauling in boxes and furniture, another group was tearing out the upstairs carpet. By Christmas Eve afternoon I was hanging the last pictures and having a celebratory Scotch. Then I had a nap in preparation for midnight mass, which is where, no matter what is going on, my Christmas always comes together. <br />
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To make the season even more interesting we've had four trips to Urgent Care/ER, two cases of strep throat, an actual Staph infection, a broken furnace and a partridge in a pear tree.<br />
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Just kidding about the partridge. <br />
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Our first house guests arrived the day after Christmas - Donald's parents. His mom, Bev, will be staying with us for a few weeks while his dad takes an extended hunting trip in Arizona. We thought we would kick off the New Year by having our rector do a house blessing followed by an open house. If you're in the neighborhood, swing by. Bev and I have been baking for two days so I promise you won't leave hungry!<br />
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If you can't make the open house, we would love to see you whenever you are passing through. I hope that our paths will cross during this New Year! Until then, may your year be bright with promise and brimming with hope.Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-2958463461822432962011-12-13T18:58:00.000-08:002011-12-13T19:15:17.524-08:00Finally!The signing was delayed until 2:30. Then it was pushed to 4 pm and they still weren't ready for us. However, we are happy to finally announce that, as of 5 pm this evening, we are first time homeowners. My first car and my first house all in a weeks time - what a grown up I'm becoming! We went out for supper to celebrate not getting writer's cramp from all the pages we signed but it was actually kind of a downer. See, the catch is that while while everything is signed, we can't officially take possession until the money clears the bank. Of course, no one is really sure when that will happen but we are crossing our fingers it will happen by Thursday. <br />
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That still leaves me 9 whole days to repaint, tear out carpet, move, unpack, plan a birthday and then get ready for Christmas. Did I mention that half the family is sick? Or that Donald is also writing papers and working crazy, holiday hours? No problem for this retired Navy wife.<br />
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Right? <br />
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I think all I want for Christmas this year is a replenishing stock of sticky notes and a glass of wine.Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-37208556637248251952011-12-06T19:26:00.000-08:002011-12-07T07:15:25.409-08:00My First Car!Every kid dreams of turning sixteen and getting their own car. Birthday, driver's license and car. They go together like peanut butter, jelly and milk. I did the birthday and got the license; as the old Meatloaf song says, "Two out three ain't bad." I had to be content with first driving my parent's beige, huge, early 80's, Chrysler New Yorker. Keep in mind, I got my license in the summer of 1989. My boyfriend called it the One-Eyed Beast because it had headlights that popped up but only one of them worked, giving the appearance of a wink. The next year my parents "upgraded" to an even bigger, 70's something, Ford LTD station wagon. Yes, complete with wood panelling down the side and the extra seats that folded down in the "way back" as my mom termed it. My friends called that one the Party Wagon because you could pack, well, let's just say A Lot Of People in it. The exact number will remain a secret because my mother reads this blog! She's too young for a heart attack! Love you, Mom!<br />
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I went off to college and never bought a car. Didn't need one. My school had everything I needed on campus. Besides, my mother mailed me a care package every single week freshman year. Her cookies made me a big hit with the football team! My roommate had a car and I borrowed it if I needed it. <br />
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Then I got married. Donald had a baby blue, two door Subaru which eventually gave out on a deserted highway in Montana on our way home for Christmas break. We were obliged to wait in a strangers house for five hours while my father in law came to save us. I was sick as a dog and there were ferrets. That's about all I remember. I do know the car sat in the same spot for nearly a decade before someone got rid of it.<br />
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Donald and I have had numerous vehicles since then. The coolest was a tiny Honda Prelude his dad gave us after the Subaru fiasco. The worst was a short stint with a Dodge Caravan mini van; we swore off mini vans forever after that experience. With all the cars we've owned, I've never had one that was just mine. Shoot, I don't even think my name has ever been on a title.<br />
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Today, I went for three out of three. At 38, I now have my very first car. Her name is Penny (as in "Mini Penny"- come on 007 fans!) and she is a 1983 Austin Mini, which makes her the exact age of my little brother. 6,100 original miles! She is even a Right Side Drive, a true British import! I fell in love with Minis on my first trip to England. Donald photographed me standing next to random Minis all over the country! The fact that her heater needs some work and her wipers gave out on the 60 mile drive home in a thick blanket of fog does not tarnish my excitement. The boys are pretty stoked too; they can't wait to be old enough to drive her! They can drive her but I already let them know that they, too, may be 38 before they get a car of their own!<br />
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</span>Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831755905977885774.post-19063806561465487242011-12-03T08:10:00.000-08:002011-12-03T08:10:10.188-08:00Closing UpdateI don't mind nit picking when I am the nit picker. I thrive on nit picky, especially when it involves spotting spelling errors on public signage. When I am on the receiving end of nit picky, it's not so fun. Must be what my husband feels like, living with me!<br />
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We finally got word of the VA appraisal on late on Thursday. The appraiser noticed some peeling paint on a couple of windows. He is requiring that all the paint be scraped, repainted and all paint chips removed. <br />
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<i>This </i>is all that is preventing me from moving out of my RV. Seems like an easy fix, right? I'd go do it myself if they would let me. Except that it has to be a contractor. And then an order has to be sent to get the appraiser to go back, for another fee, of course, and verify that the work has been done. Then three or four more days, minimum, for the appraiser to file his report. Then, maybe, just maybe, the loan processor will produce all the needed closing paperwork. <br />
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Have I mentioned how much I love it when my life's details are being handled by invisible, unreachable, anonymous people? Since we have nothing solid to go on, we don't have a new closing date yet. Probably just as well, for my mental well-being!Twists & Turnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10424017642244816665noreply@blogger.com2