<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839</id><updated>2009-11-10T11:47:49.140-09:00</updated><title type='text'>Simply Blissful</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>125</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-459660749951064404</id><published>2009-09-08T19:24:00.009-08:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T19:48:47.934-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bits'/><title type='text'>Giuliana &amp; Bill</title><content type='html'>So I'm watching Giuliana &amp;amp; Bill and don't even get me started on what's wrong with that sentence. I know. But I'm watching Bill spend the evening with his nieces making friendship bracelets, the kind made from embroidery floss? Then they go around to a couple stores &amp;amp; sell them for, get this, $5 each! Really? That's some profit margin, and I know this for fact because I've just started embroidering and embroidery floss is like, 37 cents each. Anyway, the store starts with a "small collection" and pays the girls $100. I'm thinking, how sweet. The store manager is supporting the girls, even though their asking price is a oh, a &lt;em&gt;tad&lt;/em&gt; high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the little interview sessions Giuliana &amp;amp; Bill did together, Bill said he "might have made a few calls before going to the stores". And I'm just not sure what to think of that. Again, I'm completely horrified that I'm A. watching Giuliana &amp;amp; Bill and that 2. I'M PUTTING THIS MUCH THOUGHT INTO &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;GIULIANA&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;amp; BILL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is, what is teaching the kids really? They seemed like perfectly nice young girls, and they seemed genuinely surprised that they received $100 for their wares, but it was hardly realistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just saying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-459660749951064404?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/459660749951064404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=459660749951064404&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/459660749951064404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/459660749951064404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2009/09/giulana-bill.html' title='Giuliana &amp; Bill'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-3576715746374813171</id><published>2009-08-29T20:08:00.008-08:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T23:54:42.133-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anxiety'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breast feeding'/><title type='text'>I can only take so much</title><content type='html'>Ellis just. stopped. crying. After far too long. She normally goes to bed without too much fuss. I've been weaning her from her before-bed feeding, and she still hasn't screamed &amp;amp; cried to this extent. She called for me....&lt;em&gt;mama, mama, mama...&lt;/em&gt;over and over again. I couldn't take it. It was breaking my heart. The anxiety continued to swell until the tears blurred my eyes. I wanted to sit &amp;amp; have a good long cry but for some reason, my body wouldn't comply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I don't want to talk. I don't want to listen. I don't want to think. Can't I just sit and watch &lt;em&gt;Flight Plan&lt;/em&gt;? Except that A., now my husband is pissed because I just told him I didn't have it in me to conversate right now (doesn't stop him from trying), and B. watching movies where children are missing/harmed/killed causes me anxiety in ways that I never experienced before motherhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My former boss and I once shared a hotel room in Vegas while there for training, and after spending the first few nights at the casinos, we opted on the last night to stay in with pay-per-view. Get your minds out of the gutter, we watched &lt;em&gt;Minority Report&lt;/em&gt;. A few minutes into the movie, my boss says, &lt;em&gt;Oh, I just remembered I didn't like this movie because of what happens to his son&lt;/em&gt;. At the time I thought it was so strange that a movie could affect her so deeply. Little did I know, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom sent me a link to a video of some company in Arizona that teaches babies how to roll themselves over and float on their backs if they should fall into a swimming pool. I watched the video clip of a toddler, probably just about Ellis' age, walk to a swimming pool, fall in, roll himself onto his back and float there, waiting for someone to rescue him. I was having a hard enough time watching the clip until I was insane enough to turn the volume on. I listened to this poor child babbling away (not even crying, really), and my anxiety reached such levels that I had to stop the video halfway through. I &lt;em&gt;knew&lt;/em&gt; the baby was going to be fine and I couldn't take it. Not only could I not take it, but I promptly e-mailed my mother &amp;amp; asked her to please, never, ever, not &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt;, send me anything like that again. I worry puh-lenty about something horrific happening to Ellis that I don't need to worry about babies I don't even know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, just in case it wasn't clear before, I have emotions. Lots of emotions. They live really close to the surface all the time and can come out of nowhere, often causing me to do or say things that I later regret. Lately it seems that my capacity for handling these emotions, good or bad, is diminishing. (One of) my mechanisms to deal with that, is to simply shut down. Retreat. Withdraw from the world in general, except that which is absolutely necessary to function.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Ellis was first born and in the months after, I was fueled by a need to be a better person; to be the best person I could be for my daughter. I wanted her to be proud of her mother. I had dreams. Dreams that in true Tracy fashion, never made it past the early excitement phase. Now I feel like I have lost that drive. I feel.....blah. I have found myself squarely in the middle of a depression-cycle that, if I were to be completely honest with myself, has been going on for months. I know it is partially due to external factors that are out of my control to change, making me feel like I'm in a rather hopeless situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's difficult to verbalize this, but lately, I have found myself thinking...&lt;em&gt;how did I get here? Is this really my life?&lt;/em&gt; Please don't take this to mean that I don't love my daughter or husband. I know that in my heart I am not disatisfied with my life but when one is in the midst of depression, it's hard to see things objectively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of being able to see all the wonderful things, I see (on the days that I'm home with Ellis): wake up, change a diaper, put Ellis back in her crib with toys to keep her occupied, take a shower, take Adam to work, stop for a non-fat mocha on the way home (my Monday &amp;amp; Friday treat), come home, put on PBS Kids, keep Ellis from pushing all the buttons on the tv, watch as she trashes the living room in under two minutes, make breakfast, watch helplessly as she throws half of her food on the floor, listen to Porter whine outside because I won't let him inside while Ellis is eating because she tries to feed him, wipe Ellis' hands &amp;amp; face, let Porter in, let him eat Ellis' leftovers, chase Ellis around the house to send her into fits of giggles, change a diaper, Swiffer the dog hair, playtime, naptime, pick up Ellis' toys (why do I bother with this?), crafttime for mama, kiss Ellis after her nap, change another diaper, lunchtime, change a diaper, pick up toys, errands if my mood allows me to leave the house (don't forget to pack snacks &amp;amp; sippy cup of water!), (don't forget to take off slippers and put on shoes!), come home, change a diaper, chase Ellis through the house to encite giggles, keep Porter from "protecting" Ellis from my tickling, will Ellis have an afternoon nap today?, pick up toys, pick up Adam from work, come home, hope that Adam is understanding that I don't have anything left in me to give to him, fix Ellis dinner, change a diaper, playtime, change a diaper &amp;amp; put on jammies (jammies on Ellis; I am most likely already in jammy-bottoms by this point), brush her teeth, look at books, wonder if I'll have the energy to do all the things I had planned to do after Ellis was in bed, have Ellis kiss dada night-night, put her to bed, hope that she goes down easily, wonder if I'll have the energy to do it all over again tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, PLEASE don't take this to mean that I don't love my daughter. I LOVE MY DAUGHTER WITH MY ENTIRE BEING &amp;amp; WOULD BE LOST WITHOUT HER. I love taking care of her, I love being with her, I miss her like mad when I'm at work. That's the sucky thing about depression: feeling such intense &amp;amp; contradictory feelings simultaneously. How can I love Ellis so freaking much &amp;amp; still feel so disatisfied with my life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, I have hobbies &amp;amp; they help keep me occupied. I clean. I organize. I try to create order to calm the chaos in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think the bigger picture is that Ellis is my constant reminder that time is passing. Every day that goes by is one day closer to her leaving me &amp;amp; that's just too sad to think about. One week ago today, I started Ellis' final weaning . We were down to 2 feedings a day; before bed &amp;amp; when she woke up oh so early in the morning, so mama could get another hour of sleep. Once I've eliminated that early-morning feeding, that will officially mark the end of my pregnant body and that has hit me &lt;em&gt;hard&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies, how did you cope with weaning your little ones and moving onto the next chapter?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-3576715746374813171?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/3576715746374813171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=3576715746374813171&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/3576715746374813171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/3576715746374813171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-can-only-take-so-much.html' title='I can only take so much'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-2535922004680414609</id><published>2009-08-17T12:11:00.013-08:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T14:35:13.039-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays and events'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='in the kitchen'/><title type='text'>34</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SonHLSzHGMI/AAAAAAAABN8/DBKM0KdNWJk/s1600-h/TG%4034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 240px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371043027454728386" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SonHLSzHGMI/AAAAAAAABN8/DBKM0KdNWJk/s320/TG%4034.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today is my birthday. My 34th birthday. And this is a photo of me, taken with my new iphone (paid for via birthday money proceeds). I can't install Adobe Flash, so I couldn't upload directly to Flickr, but at any rate, here I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am waiting for Ellis to wake up from her nap, and in the time she's been asleep, I have spent (wasted) a ridiculous amout of time trying to install Adobe Flash, I Swiffered the entire house (don't get too excited; it's a small house), including pulling out the fridge to get the rat's-nest of Porter-hair that had been mocking me for weeks, unloaded the dishwasher, tidied the living room, and scrubbed the shower/bathtub. I'm even giving Ellis rights to the first bath in the clean tub, but only because she has food in her hair &amp;amp; I do have some standards when it comes to my child's grooming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a short-list of errands to run today, time allowing, and then I have Action Appliance Repair coming sometime between 2 and 4 to look at our washer &amp;amp; dryer. Talk about an afternoon killer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Boy do I know how to have a good time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, after Adam gets home from work, we're having dinner at my mom &amp;amp; step-dad's house for my FAVORITE dinner: grilled pizzas. The first time my brother said he was making pizzas on the bbq, I couldn't quite wrap my head around it. &lt;em&gt;Pizzas? On the grill? Really?&lt;/em&gt; In my head, it was a "bbq pizza", with bbq sauce. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And it was not bbq pizza, but only the BEST PIZZA IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD. I'm sure the homemade dough, made by my sister-in-law Michelle, has much to do with it. We generally make several small-to-medium pizzas, but my favorite is a mediterranean, with feta, greek olives &amp;amp; things of that nature. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It has been a quiet day, but rainy &amp;amp; windy. The first of our fall weather is upon us, and I can't say as I'm all that happy to see leaves on the ground already.  When the weather starts to turn like this, I usuallylook forward to fall. But this year I'm still clinging to summer. I could sit &amp;amp; wonder what's different this year, but the answer is sleeping blissfully 2 rooms away. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SonGSUhEyUI/AAAAAAAABN0/VcyZLxrKJ7g/s1600-h/08+09+09+031.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371042048663406914" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SonGSUhEyUI/AAAAAAAABN0/VcyZLxrKJ7g/s320/08+09+09+031.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I don't want to admit that she's nearly 16 months old, which means she's nearly 18 months old, and that just means she's on her way to being a teenager. And I'm not ready for that. I want her to stay innocent and pure, imaginative, silly, my sweet little girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-2535922004680414609?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/2535922004680414609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=2535922004680414609&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/2535922004680414609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/2535922004680414609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2009/08/34.html' title='34'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SonHLSzHGMI/AAAAAAAABN8/DBKM0KdNWJk/s72-c/TG%4034.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-8626316950722398224</id><published>2009-08-11T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T22:48:04.975-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellis'/><title type='text'>this one's for Jaye</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SoJCL9C56pI/AAAAAAAABNU/ThySwMt8MeQ/s1600-h/DSCF8597.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368926478911793810" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SoJCL9C56pI/AAAAAAAABNU/ThySwMt8MeQ/s320/DSCF8597.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;While on vacation in Spokane a couple weeks ago, I was laying in my mother in law's bed (they were gracious enough to give up their bedroom for us) nursing Ellis before bedtime. My niece Katelyn (age 3) decided she wanted to go to bed as well so I let her snuggle in beside us thinking, &lt;em&gt;how cute is this?&lt;/em&gt; But because it was quite early compared to Katelyn's normal bedtime, I figured she would change her mind about all this &lt;em&gt;going to bed nonsense&lt;/em&gt; in about 28 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As you can imagine, a 3 year old isn't terribly quiet when she's not &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;ready for bed so I kept trying to quiet her while trying to keep Ellis on the task at hand. As you can &lt;em&gt;also&lt;/em&gt; imagine, Ellis' schedule, limited though it may be, had already been completey obliterated on day 1 of our vacation so I'm thinking this was a losing proposition all the way around but really, how cute is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I was nursing Ellis, and Katelyn was asking questions, and I was saying &lt;em&gt;shhhhh, we need to be quiet. I'm trying to put Belles to bed&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I continued to nurse, and Katelyn continued to ask questions, and I said, &lt;em&gt;shhhhh, we need to be quiet. I'm trying to feed Belles so she can go night-night&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Katelyn asks me, s&lt;em&gt;he's eating&lt;/em&gt;? And I say, &lt;em&gt;uh-huh, shhhhhh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;And this is the point where she sat upright, peered over my side, and said IS SHE EATING &lt;em&gt;YOU&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SoJCLNuiTrI/AAAAAAAABNM/d-vQ3rJW0-o/s1600-h/Belles+%26+Katelyn+in+white.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368926466209894066" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SoJCLNuiTrI/AAAAAAAABNM/d-vQ3rJW0-o/s320/Belles+%26+Katelyn+in+white.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, man, how to you keep your composure after that? That was, easily, one of the funniest moments I've ever had in my entire 33 years, 359 days of life. And to know that that was just the tip of the iceberg in terms of funny shit to come is one reason I became a parent. The other is when she sits on the couch calling out &lt;em&gt;hi!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;hi!&lt;/em&gt; to me, like she is right now. Okay, there's about a thousand other reasons, but that's a story for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rest is a bit fuzzy, but I believe I answered her with something to the effect of, &lt;em&gt;ummm, well, sort of, you see, there's milk and......&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katelyn lost interest in both me &amp;amp; bedtime shortly thereafter, and scooted off to find one of the many other family members who were still awake and/or not dispensing milk through their boobies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after Ellis fell asleep, I had the pleasant task of explaining to Katelyn's mom why she may come asking if she had milk, too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-8626316950722398224?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/8626316950722398224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=8626316950722398224&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/8626316950722398224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/8626316950722398224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2009/08/this-ones-for-jaye.html' title='this one&apos;s for Jaye'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SoJCL9C56pI/AAAAAAAABNU/ThySwMt8MeQ/s72-c/DSCF8597.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-4663011549342082844</id><published>2009-07-22T11:57:00.025-08:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T20:30:10.682-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stuff I made'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creative share'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellis'/><title type='text'>sew crazy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SmfhW_jZTAI/AAAAAAAABMs/02V6ZcYokv4/s1600-h/07+19+09+016flickr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361501666541128706" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SmfhW_jZTAI/AAAAAAAABMs/02V6ZcYokv4/s320/07+19+09+016flickr.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This week, my crafting endeavors have been Ellis-centric. In part, it was need based, in part because I love to sew (when my machine is not jamming, which I discovered is mostly due to lame thread) and in part because I’m just plane nuts. The “nuts” part refers to the fact that I decided I "needed" to make a mini-quilt for Ellis to take on vacation with us next week. As in, we leave on Saturday. As in, I haven’t even started my to-do-before-we-leave-list nor my multiple need-to-pack-lists. Oh, and I've never made a quilt before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But because we didn't have a scorching hot week like the week before, it was a good excuse to spend lots of time indoors playing...and when it wasn't raining, a little time outdoors, too. Honey took this picture of Belles and I at the Mendenhall Glacier this past Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;This bib was crazy-cheap to make (gotta love the little projects!) and something I could actually start &amp;amp; finish in one sitting provided Ellis is napping. The pattern is modified from Amy Carol’s &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /&gt;&lt;st1:place style="FONT-STYLE: italic" st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Bend&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt; the Rules Sewing&lt;/span&gt;, and if you’re familiar with &lt;a href="http://treefalldesign.typepad.com/"&gt;Manda at Tree Fall&lt;/a&gt;, it should be pretty obvious where I get much of my inspiration from. And where does one draw the line for inspiration versus just plain stealing? My sincere apologies to Manda if I have overstepped.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361499389229794850" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SmffSb6EBiI/AAAAAAAABMc/eIKNuvJBkoI/s320/07+20+09+017flickr.jpg" /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I was so pumped for having FINISHED a project ~ two even! ~ and from having just finished sorting &amp;amp; organizing my fabrics that I couldn’t stop there. My mind started formulating color &amp;amp; fabric combinations &amp;amp; as soon as Ellis woke up from her morning nap, we were off to Joann’s. I picked up a set of square quilting templates, a rotary cutter, and hello? Why have I never purchased one before? That little baby made my life INFINITELY easier.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; At least in terms of sewing :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361499394869752306" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SmffSw6u8fI/AAAAAAAABMk/o9ZqoWhna7E/s320/07+20+09+014flickr.jpg" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;That evening I managed to get all my squares cut (seriously loving the rotary cutter) and put together my pattern. This actually came easier than I thought it would. It only took a couple tweaks to get the pattern the way I wanted it, and then a bit longer to fix my mis-placements. Around 11:30pm, I called it quits. Then all day yesterday, I could not. stop. thinking. about getting home to work on Ellis’ quilt! I was determined not to let this much needed burst of inspiration and motivation slip by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Last night, I pieced together my squares &amp;amp; after laying out my rows, discovered only one mistake. After a short deliberation &amp;amp; virtually no anxiety (yay me!), I decided to leave it as is. I figured that after I added my alternating rows of off-white fabric, the mis-placement would be hardly noticeable, and more importantly, it’s good for me to be okay with producing something less than perfect. Ellis will love it and is she &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;going to care that there’s a green square where a red square should be?&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361499385506219538" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SmffSOCSxhI/AAAAAAAABMU/vJ7ro7oQk0k/s320/07+22+09+004flickr.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I’m a little over half-way done with the front of the quilt, and barring any complications of either the sewing machine or of the toddler variety, I should be able to finish tonight. Am I being too optimistic? Maybe, but I really, &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; want to have this finished for our trip. Don’t ask me why, I’m just compelled to do so. I wanted Ellis to have a little lap quilt while we’re away, something from mama, something from home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I foresee another quick trip to Joann’s this evening for batting &amp;amp; possibly the backing fabric as I’m not sure if I want to use something I already have or not. Maybe a nice chenille backing? Maybe something lighter? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Be sure to check back for the finished product!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-4663011549342082844?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/4663011549342082844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=4663011549342082844&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/4663011549342082844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/4663011549342082844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2009/07/normal-0-false-false-false.html' title='sew crazy!'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SmfhW_jZTAI/AAAAAAAABMs/02V6ZcYokv4/s72-c/07+19+09+016flickr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-2544714609222464435</id><published>2009-06-25T20:23:00.017-08:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T23:05:30.233-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellis'/><title type='text'>still getting to know her</title><content type='html'>Ellis is full of life. She is, as I call her, the super-silliest. And she has the greatest laugh. She draws people in and they can't resist talking to her. The most surprising of whom was the brooding, rocker teenager at a Wal-Mart somewhere between Seattle &amp;amp; Portland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351526703930916386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkRxLwHRviI/AAAAAAAABLk/i6EKehbQXOs/s320/06+20+09+019cflickr.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Once you know Ellis, she is a total &amp;amp; complete charmer. That last trip to Seattle, I could sense the darkness looming overhead as Ellis &amp;amp; I boarded the plane and walked down the isle. By the time we had landed, she had won over everyone within a two row radius, including the perpetually-annoyed looking fellow sitting behind us. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351526702280241250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkRxLp9ucGI/AAAAAAAABLc/rTLzd9UeJx4/s320/06+15+09+028flickr.jpg" border="0" /&gt;But, to strangers, this is more likely the look you'll be met with. Little Miss Serious. Ellis' standard m.o. is to check you out for about 15 minutes, and once she decides she likes you, she turns all cute, and is all, &lt;em&gt;Look&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;at me! Hey! See all the really cute things I can do??&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351526712304936098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkRxMPTzJKI/AAAAAAAABLs/w9rXKKIu3WQ/s320/06+24+09+001flickr.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Since we frequently have short interactions with people, I always wondered how she would react to those who fall into the "under 15 minute" category. Will she be trustful to a fault or will she be a good judge of character? Will she sense when people are weird and it's okay to ignore them? I know it's my job to teach her not to take candy from strangers &amp;amp; not to get into the van to see the puppy, but what if someone is able to convince her otherwise? (I realize with each passing day that I have much to be paranoid about when it comes to my daughter). Bottom line is, will she know when to back away. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Today I got my answer. We went to Safeway after work, and since we had just picked her up from my mom's, I didn't realize how tired she was until we got into the store. Poor thing had dark circles under her eyes. I'm trying to hurry through my list as well as the remember the things not on my list that I knew we needed, she's pulling on her seat belt, indicating that SHE WOULD LIKE TO GO HOME NOW, and would you believe I didn't even forget anything? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time we get to the checkout, she's fighting to keep her eyes open, which I'm trying to explain to the checker who keeps asking how she's doing. She's of course not responding because A, she's exhausted, and B, he was inside his 15 minute window. I am glad she's not responding because C, he's a weirdo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;He's trying to high-five her, still asking her how she's doing, referring to himself as grandpa (whoa, buddy), and while we're waiting for a price check on strawberry jam, he starts waving around the &lt;a href="http://www.robscape.com/"&gt;Pirate's Booty&lt;/a&gt; going &lt;em&gt;pirate booty, pi-ret booty, pirate boo-tay.&lt;/em&gt; I'm thinking, &lt;em&gt;Dude, if my kid, who up until now has been behaving like an angel, has a meltdown because she's tired &amp;amp; you're waving her favorite snack around in her face? So help me.....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351526700008297122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkRxLhgDUqI/AAAAAAAABLU/1tT7Vgw-zVU/s320/06+13+09+02flickr6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;And this is the really good part. The part you've been waiting for. He tries to high-five her again, and then a low-five because she won't budge, and then she actually scrunched her face at him &amp;amp; pushed his hand away. She DOES know when people are weird! I was thrilled. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;As we walked away from the check stand, I concurred with her that he was indeed, very weird, and didn't he overstep &lt;em&gt;his&lt;/em&gt; boundaries. On the way home, she chattered a bit from the backseat of the car, and about halfway into our 4 minute drive, she was completely crashed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351526695470447698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkRxLQmJPFI/AAAAAAAABLM/bCkoBrf2h2o/s320/06-25-09_1842%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Maybe now I can worry about one less thing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-2544714609222464435?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/2544714609222464435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=2544714609222464435&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/2544714609222464435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/2544714609222464435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2009/06/still-getting-to-know-her.html' title='still getting to know her'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkRxLwHRviI/AAAAAAAABLk/i6EKehbQXOs/s72-c/06+20+09+019cflickr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-5022456820665591859</id><published>2009-06-23T21:38:00.017-08:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T08:10:32.670-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stuff I made'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creative share'/><title type='text'>Creative Share</title><content type='html'>For the past six months there have been so many things I've wanted to share. Little things like how I'd become obsessed with watching the Real Housewives of New York and then New Jersey. (man, those ladies sucked me in!) Or really incredible things like what it felt like the first time Ellis hugged me or said mama. Or how I look at her every. single. day and think how freaking amazing she is and oh my god how did I get so lucky to have a daughter as gorgeous &amp;amp; perfect as Ellis? Seriously. Have you seen her? And she loves to garden! What more could I ask for? &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350781176125995346" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHLIUnWOVI/AAAAAAAABKE/WM6gUP4bRTY/s320/%2806+16+09+005%282%29.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope that this post marks the end of my unintended blogging hiatus. That being said, one of the things I have looked forward to every day is reading &lt;a href="http://donnadowney.typepad.com/"&gt;Donna Downey's blog&lt;/a&gt;. She's actually one of the very first blogs I found and I wish I could remember what I Googled to make her name pop up, but there she was, and I think I read her entire archives in one, long sitting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Donna is insanely creative and has allowed her art to evolve naturally over the years. I love her no-fear approach to art, how she can take ordinary bits &amp;amp; pieces and turn them into something beautiful, and how she inspires women to find their artist within. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The latest in her &lt;a href="http://www.donnadowney.com/index.php/campaign-for-creativity"&gt;Campaign for Creativity &lt;/a&gt;is Inspiration Wednesdays where she encourages you to take a chance with your art. The whole notion of Inspiration Wednesdays goes much deeper than that, but in its simplist form, it's just finding time to be creative because sometimes, its good for the soul. I'm expanding that to include writing one blog post per week, even if it's just to post a photo because I've got LOTS of those.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lately I've satisfied my creative urges with greeting cards: creativity born from necessity! Most recently have been Father's Day and in my family, that's no easy task. Husband, check. Dad, check. Step-dad, check. Father-in-law, check. I do feel badly that I didn't have them made in time to send a hand-made card to my father-in-law, but his birthday's in August, so I have a second chance where that's concerned.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyhoo....here are this year's Father's Day cards. I generally use one or two or ten eyelets on any given project, but this time I tried to branch out &amp;amp; use some of the other embellishements I'm so fond of hoarding and not using. Like, what, I can't buy more hinges?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350772536230441634" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHDRafucqI/AAAAAAAABJk/hSvf4MmEXfs/s320/06+21+09+001cs.jpg" border="0" /&gt; (font is ddscript)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350772535971220946" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHDRZh7DdI/AAAAAAAABJs/Rpb8Fpu-D18/s320/06+21+09+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350772540343368690" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHDRp0Uu_I/AAAAAAAABJ0/eN7Fs3_WiO0/s320/06+21+09+006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I felt the inside needed a little something extra, but all in all, I was really pleased with how it turned out.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350795512660482530" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHYK0Xh2eI/AAAAAAAABKc/qWUpTFrmcxg/s320/06+21+09+008cs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;With this card I had a very vague idea of what I wanted, which was lots of rough edges, and striped paper resembling a men's shirt. And that was about it. After layering the striped paper with the green scrap and attaching the "happy father's day" printed on vellum, it wasn't quite enough. Enter the rustic wire! Now, this is where I pat myself on the back for actually using my supplies instead of the aforementioned hoarding. Adding a rough boarder of wire and attaching with the &lt;a href="http://store.scrapbook.com/ch-th92800.html"&gt;Tiny Attacher &lt;/a&gt;was exactly what it needed. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350772531643051522" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHDRJaAbgI/AAAAAAAABJc/B--9unij6OU/s320/06+20+09+049cs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Next up was my mom's birthday, and I made this little gem on my lunch break today. The day &lt;em&gt;of&lt;/em&gt; her birthday. See, I knew last week that her birthday was on Tuesday, but that was &lt;em&gt;last&lt;/em&gt; week, and by the time Tuesday rolled around, well, let just say it's a good thing I noticed the birthday card on her counter this morning. I know, I'm a terrible, terrible daughter. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350795075095056354" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHXxWTzT-I/AAAAAAAABKM/_nWzdLbo0mE/s320/06+23+09+017cs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;And as you can see, I'm now a HUGE fan of the rustic wire. (and the tiny attacher) I was originally going to fashion a heart, but it started to resemble more of a balloon so I went with it. What did Bob Ross say? Happy accidents? The red &amp;amp; white paper is actually wrapping paper that I scooped up from Fred Meyer a while back, and the eyelets? Did I mention that I can't make anything without eyelets? (font is ali edwards)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350795081284582882" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHXxtXf_eI/AAAAAAAABKU/Ykc4T-d5fUc/s320/06+23+09+018cs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;It feels good to create again, and it feels good to write again. Thanks, Donna, for offerring up this outlet and giving me the push I needed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-5022456820665591859?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/5022456820665591859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=5022456820665591859&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/5022456820665591859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/5022456820665591859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2009/06/creative-share.html' title='Creative Share'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SkHLIUnWOVI/AAAAAAAABKE/WM6gUP4bRTY/s72-c/%2806+16+09+005%282%29.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-4148069813306392345</id><published>2009-01-11T20:50:00.007-09:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T21:21:50.711-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juneau'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellis'/><title type='text'>snow baby!</title><content type='html'>We've gotten a little snow in the past few days! I think somewhere in the pallpark of 40 inches. I had been in Anchorage for a seminar on tax changes, where it was painfully cold (sorry I didn't call, &lt;a href="http://mtngrlinak.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sherrie&lt;/a&gt;!), so I missed all the actual snowfall. I know, bummer, right? &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290284051247484642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrdUMOFTuI/AAAAAAAABHA/YYYBAByRBuY/s320/snowy+house.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Our street has essentially turned into a one-lane road, and the snow is so high in our yard, Porter can walk across the fence. Can, and has. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Adam's on the phone with his sister, and apparently she shares the same joy in seeing a dumptruck full of snow as I do. Why am I so amused by the sight of a dumptruck full of snow? Who knows. But I always get a kick out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290281846864548018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbT4QPELI/AAAAAAAABGo/M158nFaXOM4/s320/snowy+street.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbURhi0mI/AAAAAAAABG4/wTV9PEYpPN4/s1600-h/snowbaby1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbURhi0mI/AAAAAAAABG4/wTV9PEYpPN4/s1600-h/snowbaby1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbURhi0mI/AAAAAAAABG4/wTV9PEYpPN4/s1600-h/snowbaby1.jpg"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We bundled Ellis up &amp;amp; took her out for her first real taste of snow. She'd been in snow before, but only from the car to the house, and vice versa. I think we may have had more fun with it than she did, although we'll just blame it on the fact that she didn't have much mobility in her snow pants &amp;amp; coat. Think Randy in the &lt;em&gt;Christmas Story. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290281853648032354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 248px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbURhi0mI/AAAAAAAABG4/wTV9PEYpPN4/s320/snowbaby1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290281842531807378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbToHOsJI/AAAAAAAABGY/0Wk1IPEGFvs/s320/snowbaby.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290281849036810450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbUAWJKNI/AAAAAAAABGw/KuurX-dKjbg/s320/snowbaby2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbTqT1oxI/AAAAAAAABGg/mLVaIm7SJ5g/s1600-h/sowbaby3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290281843121562386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrbTqT1oxI/AAAAAAAABGg/mLVaIm7SJ5g/s320/sowbaby3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure she'll thank us for these photos someday :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-4148069813306392345?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/4148069813306392345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=4148069813306392345&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/4148069813306392345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/4148069813306392345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2009/01/snow-baby.html' title='snow baby!'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SWrdUMOFTuI/AAAAAAAABHA/YYYBAByRBuY/s72-c/snowy+house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-2065378867708227238</id><published>2009-01-05T23:49:00.002-09:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T23:49:00.175-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childbirth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>in case you were wondering</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That baby finally did come out. Ellis Olivia was born May 3 at 3:03 A.M, after about 60 hours of labor. That's first contractions to me asking Is she still a girl? And if I do say so myself, she's awfully damn cute. Really, have you seen a cuter baby? (I started this post so long ago, Ellis is now 2 months older than in these photos.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SUlga1LI_rI/AAAAAAAABGQ/1y-Q1t-o5KY/s1600-h/belly.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280858052135288498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SUlga1LI_rI/AAAAAAAABGQ/1y-Q1t-o5KY/s320/belly.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I was in denial when I first began having contractions Wednesday afternoon (was 40 weeks of waiting finally here?? and THIS is what contractions feel like??), and by Friday morning, I was ready to throttle my doctor if she dared tell me I was not in labor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;After hooking me up to the monitor, I was thrilled to hear my contractions were 3 minutes apart. Woo hoo!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I called Adam, who was at Temsco training (his part-time, 8th season, glacier-guide summer job) and said it was time to go to the hospital. Ummm, after I finish packing my hospital bag.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My doctor appt was around 11 am, and I think we were settled into our hospital room around 2:00 or 3:00 pm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When the on-call doctor first examined me, I was already 4 cm dilated, and I felt like a first-time-birth-super-star. Of course, I had been in labor for 2 days, so it would stand to reason I would be dilated. I made it to 5 cm within the hour, and that's where the dilation stopped. No amount of walking the hospital corridors or trying a different position would help. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;By about 8:30 pm, I decided some IV drugs were in order. And when they say IV drugs just take the edge off, not completely take away the pain, they weren't lying. It was also about this time that the doctor made the call to administer pitocin to kick the contractions into gear. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Another couple hours of that (maybe I had also entered into the "transition" phase?), and I was begging for an epidural, trying to count in my head how many more contractions I would have to endure before the anesthesiologist arrived on site, and (realizing later) completely misjudging the number because I was high on pain meds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280858049118977026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SUlgap7_vAI/AAAAAAAABGA/_DmwaVoeh0I/s320/belly2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Anyhoo, it was too late for an epidural so I got my wish about a (almost) natural childbirth. I had a hard time looking Adam in the face because I didn't want him to know how much pain I was in. Ha! Ha ha! Who did I think I was kidding? Adam said the wailing sounds coming from my mouth resembled someone trying to climb up the swim ladder on a boat, while being eaten by a shark. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pushing seemed to take for-ever. Hours, I think. And lots of me saying &lt;em&gt;I can't do this!&lt;/em&gt; I think the doctor was a little disappointed in my progress, or lack thereof. He may have a medical degree, but has he ever pushed a human being out of his vagina? What? No vagina? That's what I thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280858044427014178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SUlgaYdWECI/AAAAAAAABF4/5rWihNbmh9Q/s320/belly1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And then finally, FINALLY, I pushed her little head out, and I felt her body slither out, and the pain was gone just like that. And then we had a baby! She was perfect &amp;amp; beautiful, and I was so happy she was out. She wrapped her hand around my finger within the first hours of her life &amp;amp; just like that, the connection was made. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Our body's ability to forget the mind-blowing pain that is childbirth is an amazing thing, no? I mean, I was lying in my hospital bed the day Ellis was born, and said to Adam &lt;em&gt;Well, that wasn't so bad; I could totally do that again.&lt;/em&gt; His response? &lt;em&gt;How 'bout we wait until we've left the hospital before we discuss another baby, shall we?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;For the chance at another Ellis, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SUlgap7_vAI/AAAAAAAABGA/_DmwaVoeh0I/s1600-h/belly2.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280858053537030594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SUlga6ZV4cI/AAAAAAAABGI/ZxrcXN5Q7L0/s320/belly3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-2065378867708227238?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/2065378867708227238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=2065378867708227238&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/2065378867708227238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/2065378867708227238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/11/in-case-you-were-wondering.html' title='in case you were wondering'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SUlga1LI_rI/AAAAAAAABGQ/1y-Q1t-o5KY/s72-c/belly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-906946060079167277</id><published>2008-05-01T19:17:00.011-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T20:04:23.175-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Porter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juneau'/><title type='text'>Romeo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Romeo is a wolf who lives around Mendenhall Lake, where we normally walk Porter. Now, before Honey reads this &amp;amp; says "&lt;em&gt;we&lt;/em&gt;" walk Porter, I need to qualify my statement &amp;amp; say that since my X-Tra Tuff boots stopped my fitting my sausage-like feet months ago &amp;amp; I refused to buy a new pair, I haven't been on a dog walk in quite some time. My brother Bucky &amp;amp; his dog Kona took over as Honey &amp;amp; Porter's dog walking partners, and this week, they finally met Romeo. Romeo, who for the most part just wants to play with dogs, is still a wild animal with wild animal instincts. and has killed at least one small dog.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195618905316043186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SBqL3eeqqbI/AAAAAAAAAtw/ldF6rVDuTVY/s320/Romeo.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Kona, Romeo &amp;amp; Porter:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195618896726108578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SBqL2-eqqaI/AAAAAAAAAto/Ntx-WRVvto4/s320/Kona+Romeo+Porter.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Hard to believe how naturally they're playing with a wolf.  &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195623805873727938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SBqQUueqqcI/AAAAAAAAAt4/jO-_fpAwUu0/s320/checking+out+Romeo.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Romeo really just wants to play.  When Adam &amp;amp; Bucky made the decision it was time to leash the dogs again, Romeo whimpered &amp;amp; whined, and followed them along the beach for quite some time.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195623814463662546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SBqQVOeqqdI/AAAAAAAAAuA/hV8ATQHJox8/s320/porter+%26+romeo+(1).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195623818758629858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SBqQVeeqqeI/AAAAAAAAAuI/PXTSp_3kgyE/s320/Romeo+%26+Porter.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And PS, I'm beginning to think this baby is never coming out. Yeah, yeah, I officially have 9 days until my due date, but I'm ready &amp;amp; I firmly believe, so is she. I've been having mild contractions for days, and last night they came every 7 minutes from the time I went to bed until this morning when they only came inconsistently. I'm uncomfortable, the pressure on my pelvis is...I don' t even know what to say about how that feels, my back is sore, as are my hips,  I lost my mucous plug yesterday &amp;amp; have been leaking ever since, and I don't want to spend another night of waking up writing down damn contractions every 7 minutes.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-906946060079167277?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/906946060079167277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=906946060079167277&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/906946060079167277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/906946060079167277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/05/romeo.html' title='Romeo'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SBqL3eeqqbI/AAAAAAAAAtw/ldF6rVDuTVY/s72-c/Romeo.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-320822761476074188</id><published>2008-04-22T20:14:00.010-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T21:26:35.675-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stuff I made'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='decorating and nesting'/><title type='text'>the cute...and the not so cute</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;These are the fabrics I used for the nursery curtains. The red ticking I bought for crazy-cheap at WalMart, and the floral (Moda Summer In The City Strawberry Poppies) I bought last summer &amp;amp; only had one yard of. The striped fabric &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://miastoriadivita.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Jerusalem &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;found in the sale pile at Joanne's, and if I had seen it, I don't think I would have looked twice. On it's own, the wide stripes &amp;amp; pinks were a bit of a departure from what I would normally choose, and it had a circus-tent quality that I was unsure of. But Jerusalem convinced me we could make it work.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192292551929538946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA66kOeqqYI/AAAAAAAAAtY/hZd5DZ1OuiI/s320/nursery+curtains+fabric.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Back at my house, she looked through my piles of fabric &amp;amp; chose the ticking &amp;amp; poppies as accents. After washing &amp;amp; drying the striped fabric, I loved the natural fray that resulted. Now, I'm not a great seamstress &amp;amp; can barely cut or sew a straight line, but I did have the good sense to sew a seam along the bottom to prevent it from fraying further the next time I wash them. Jerusalem also suggested using the back of the ticking rather than the front to give it a more vintage look. That is one clever gal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Here is the finished product, and I couldn't be more pleased with how they turned out. I love the three patterns together, and I love them up against the Plume Bleu paint. I also love the impact floor-length curtains make in a room.   In my head, I imagined all sorts of colors going with this paint color, and I hoped I was right. Turns out, I was.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Love the chandelier?  I do.  I saw it in Pottery Barn, and my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://500pieces.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;mom &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;bought it for her granddaughter.  Aren't I lucky?  I absolutely fell in love with the pink gingham shades.  I wanted touches of pink in the room, but I didn't want it to look like a pink explosion, and I think I'm achieving that nicely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192292543339604322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA66jueqqWI/AAAAAAAAAtI/BJ5Mebz1lAQ/s320/nursery.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The baby-girl's room isn't finished, but it's coming along. Especially since a very short time ago, it looked like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192301721684715922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA7C5-eqqZI/AAAAAAAAAtg/objCMBORmQs/s320/my+worst+nightmare.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Today I had my weekly baby appointment. At previous appointments, despite my insanely-swollen feet &amp;amp; ankles, my blood pressure has been fine so my doctor wasn't concerned with preeclampsia. Last week, I was having headaches and spots in my vision, so they ran some blood work, which turned out fine. This week, my blood pressure was elevated and my urine was registering protein, so the doctor is still thinking preeclampsia is a possibility, and to be completely honest, I'm not even sure what that is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;At any rate, I go back on Friday to have my blood pressure tested again. I really hope they don't mention the words "bed rest" because I am &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; wasting my leave on bed rest. I'd prefer they'd induce labor, which I'm not thrilled about either. I'd rather my body go into labor when it was ready to, but if given the choice of bed rest or being induced, induce me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now: the not so cute:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Isn't this just about the ugliest foot you've ever seen?? You'd think I'd be embarrassed by it, but the truth is, I am oddly compelled to show off my swollenness. Honey said it's a good thing he doesn't have a foot fetish otherwise he wouldn't be able to sleep in the same room as me. Not that he enjoys sleeping in the same room with me as it is with my trucker-like snoring. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192292547634571634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA66j-eqqXI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/Fna5al1j9v0/s320/swollen+foot.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This evening we were sitting on our front deck, enjoying  the simple act of sitting outdoors in short sleeves &amp;amp; no jacket. Our neighbor Nathan stopped by, and while Adam was on the phone with his brother Rob in California who had just finished watching Expedition Alaska on the Discovery Channel, featuring the Mendenhall Glacier where Adam guides in the summer (hi Rob!), Nathan &amp;amp; I were discussing the births of his 2 kids. After commenting on how "puffy" my feet looked, Nathan asked if he could touch it. I think &lt;em&gt;he&lt;/em&gt; may have a foot fetish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-320822761476074188?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/320822761476074188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=320822761476074188&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/320822761476074188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/320822761476074188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/04/cuteand-not-so-cute.html' title='the cute...and the not so cute'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA66kOeqqYI/AAAAAAAAAtY/hZd5DZ1OuiI/s72-c/nursery+curtains+fabric.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-753016358156068600</id><published>2008-04-22T19:50:00.011-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T20:13:27.329-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Porter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juneau'/><title type='text'>changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's hard to believe we went from this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA61POeqqTI/AAAAAAAAAsw/PYSqH5G_kBc/s1600-h/DSCF7372.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192286693594147122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA61POeqqTI/AAAAAAAAAsw/PYSqH5G_kBc/s320/DSCF7372.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;to this. In 2 days. In all fairness, the real temp was nowhere near 80 degrees, but it was 58 degrees, and do you see me complaining?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA61PeeqqUI/AAAAAAAAAs4/hu12yGq88hg/s1600-h/DSCF7410.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192286697889114434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA61PeeqqUI/AAAAAAAAAs4/hu12yGq88hg/s320/DSCF7410.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Doodles sure isn't. He will always find the sunny spot in the house. My little heat seaker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA61P-eqqVI/AAAAAAAAAtA/I5Z3RH628mk/s1600-h/suny+side.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192286706479049042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA61P-eqqVI/AAAAAAAAAtA/I5Z3RH628mk/s320/suny+side.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-753016358156068600?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/753016358156068600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=753016358156068600&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/753016358156068600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/753016358156068600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/04/changes.html' title='changes'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SA61POeqqTI/AAAAAAAAAsw/PYSqH5G_kBc/s72-c/DSCF7372.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-5600133598003484861</id><published>2008-04-17T08:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T08:33:03.639-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>getting close</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's hard to believe how fast time flies.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Little Hunter is almost 5 months old &amp;amp; as cute as ever. Me? I've packed on 64 pounds &amp;amp; am left with very few shirts that actually cover my belly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189721322217652514" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SAWYC9YNwSI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Z8K16AsCIfY/s320/DSCF7345.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And at about 36 weeks, I'm just a &lt;em&gt;little&lt;/em&gt; uncomfortable. My feet &amp;amp; ankles are painfully swollen. The other night Honey's boney ankle bumped up against my fat ankle &amp;amp; oh, my, did it hurt! Yes, yes, I know I'm in for it when it comes time for labor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189719479676682450" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SAWWXtYNwNI/AAAAAAAAAro/R20p7uLeUlU/s320/DSCF7325.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Rolling over in bed is an ordeal in itself, and actually getting out of bed? The achy hips, the legs so sore &amp;amp; stiff from the swelling, the ankles that hardly bend anymore...all things that make me wish I could just stay in bed. Except that unless I'm cuddling with Honey, even bed isn't comfortable anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The baby thinks it's great fun to head-butt my bladder on a regular basis, and this past week, she has also been putting pressure in my, ummm, posterior-region. I know all you ladies know exactly what I'm talking about, but man, does it feel strange! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's difficult to breath, and I find myself emitting a snort when a laugh should be coming out of my mouth. And if I can't control my breathing when I'm awake, imagine how I must sound when I'm asleep. Poor Honey doesn't have to imagine. I think he said something to the affect of ~ &lt;em&gt;Honey&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;you sound like a trucker&lt;/em&gt;. But unlike me who kicks him when he's snoring, he has learned to just let me sleep. Because I told him he wasn't allowed to wake me up to tell me I'm snoring. But, still, he lets me sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My body refuses to keep up with me anymore, which I don't like one bit. Doesn't it know I have things to do? That this baby will be here in 3 weeks &amp;amp; I'm not ready for her? I have a nursery to finish, thank-you's to write, a hospital bag to pack, and a life to say goodbye to. And I don't mean that last bit in a negative way, just that I have not yet come to grips with the fact that our life is changing in the hugest way imaginable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Like the other day, my brother was over with Hunter, who for no apparent reason, started crying. Not just whimpering, but that stiff-bodied, eyes-shut-tight CRYING. For no reason. And when I asked Bucky what was wrong with his child, he said, &lt;em&gt;ummmm, yeah, this is what babies do. Get used to it.&lt;/em&gt; And then he plucked his child from my arms and immediately calmed him down. Can I just say that I am so proud of the man &amp;amp; father my little brother has turned into?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But despite my complaining and feeling ready to get this little fatty out of my belly (as of my ultrasound on March 5th, the technician estimated the baby at nearly 5 pounds. 5 pounds at 29 weeks, people!), I am going to miss being pregnant so much. I won't miss those months where I went crazy, of course, but I will most definitely miss being pregnant. It's the most amazing thing I am capable of doing &amp;amp; I hope I never take it for granted. For so long, I felt like being pregnant was something that happened to other women, not to me. It was all so surreal. After the first ultrasound when we saw the baby &amp;amp; were told it was a girl, it still didn't feel right to refer to her as a &lt;em&gt;she&lt;/em&gt; or a &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; instead of an &lt;em&gt;it&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Even as my belly grew &amp;amp; it became quite obvious that I was pregnant, both from the outside &amp;amp; from the inside, it still didn't feel real. And now, with a closet full of tiny pink clothes, it doesn't entirely seem real. Except that right now I can feel her feet jutting out from my belly and her butt making my belly lop-sided, and I know she is real. How can I not miss something that has been a part of me for 10 months? A little something that I was solely responsible for growing into a little person? A little person Honey &amp;amp; I made because we wanted to share our love &amp;amp; life with a child. A little person we will try our best to keep the worst parts of ourselves from seeping into.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I wouldn't trade the past 36 weeks for anything. Even when I was in that very dark place, I was still incredibly grateful for being pregnant. Grateful that it happened as easily as it did, and grateful that after various blood tests, the worst result was that I'm RH-,which actually makes me feel special to have a rare blood type. I am grateful to have a husband who loves me enough to have a baby with me, and who always tells me good job on making a baby when I forward him my weekly updates from babycenter.com. I'm grateful for my family who I know will never let me fall too hard. I'm grateful for my friends who have all been so supportive and made me feel so special during my baby shower. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Even though I'm going to miss her presence in my body, I can't wait to meet her &amp;amp; hold her &amp;amp; tell her how much we love her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-5600133598003484861?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/5600133598003484861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=5600133598003484861&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/5600133598003484861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/5600133598003484861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/04/getting-close.html' title='getting close'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SAWYC9YNwSI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Z8K16AsCIfY/s72-c/DSCF7345.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-3715668824773391467</id><published>2008-04-16T20:15:00.008-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T08:29:46.564-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juneau'/><title type='text'>clearly, mother nature hates us</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;either that or she's just on strike.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190068093582164306" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SAbTbtYNwVI/AAAAAAAAAso/QYspUPYsC-Q/s320/spring+snow.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and to add insult to injury, there was an avalanche early this morning that took out the hydro-electric towers leaving the town to rely on diesel generators for power. the electric company is estimating that our bills will be increased by 500% for the next few months while they repair the towers, and they aren't even going to start repairs for at least a month. it sucked enough to pay $180 a month for electricity and we don't even use our electric heat (which reminds me, I need to pay our oil bill), but to have that increased by 500%?? I could say, at least it's coming up on summer when our electricity bill drops, but it's not going to matter much this year.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190068080697262386" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SAbTa9YNwTI/AAAAAAAAAsY/PnKoJOPU50M/s320/spring+snow+after.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the only good thing about today? costco now carries Izze. yippee! I totally blame &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com/daily-style/2008/02/06/izze-sparkling-drink"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;dooce &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;for my Izze addiction, and although the 12-pack at costco doesn't contain my favorite flavor, pink grapefruit, I'm still giddy. almost enough to make up for spending $200 at costco.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190068084992229698" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SAbTbNYNwUI/AAAAAAAAAsg/T-Yl2UHgu7U/s320/izze.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;EDITED:  we woke up to 8 inches of snow this morning.  excuse my language, but this is CRAP!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-3715668824773391467?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/3715668824773391467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=3715668824773391467&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/3715668824773391467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/3715668824773391467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/04/clearly-mother-nature-hates-us.html' title='clearly, mother nature hates us'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/SAbTbtYNwVI/AAAAAAAAAso/QYspUPYsC-Q/s72-c/spring+snow.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-448496033635540221</id><published>2008-03-05T18:29:00.006-09:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T19:35:17.238-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='decorating and nesting'/><title type='text'>butter cream yellow</title><content type='html'>Fluffy butter-cream towels.  I splurged on these towels when we bought our house.  At the time, I didn't know exactly what color I'd be painting the bathroom (as long as it was not the dark teal-green paint that was on the walls with the maroon floral wallpaper ON THE CEILING) but I did know I wanted butter-cream towels.  &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pFBiu1xI/AAAAAAAAArA/e5MRDxxbSDo/s1600-h/bath+towels.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174470031906363154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pFBiu1xI/AAAAAAAAArA/e5MRDxxbSDo/s320/bath+towels.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The rest of my bathroom is accented with bits of green (see yesterday's post) and more butter-cream yellow.  This vintage napkin came in a set which I purchased at the &lt;a href="http://shoppesonwoodlawn.com/"&gt;Shoppes at Woodlawn &lt;/a&gt;last summer in Little Rock.  They were so dainty, I couldn't resist.  &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174470057676166978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pGhiu10I/AAAAAAAAArY/m2CsrfpRALE/s320/DSCF7123.JPG" border="0" /&gt;And this...I'm not &lt;em&gt;exactly&lt;/em&gt; sure what it is or what it's intended purpose is except that I like it and that's all that matters.  I'm sure it's a towel of sorts, but it's way to pretty to actually use.  You can't much tell from the photo, but it's also a lovely shade of butter-cream yellow, and the flowers are embroidered in brown.  I purchased this in Little Rock last summer, as well.  &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174470061971134290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pGxiu11I/AAAAAAAAArg/Dm2SvZKo3cs/s320/DSCF7121.JPG" border="0" /&gt;The little dish, resembling a gravy boat, I found at an antique store in Seaside, Oregon.  Adam &amp;amp; I spent a few days there summer before last and it was my favorite part of our 2+ week vacation.  That trip, he was such a trooper, following me from antique store to antique store and never once complaining. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received several of these vintage botanical prints from my step-dad.  He got them from a family friend's house he was helping to clean out after they passed away.  I have them scattered around the house on various shelves.  At one point, I had them hung on the wall, but because they're so small, it just didn't work.  They seem to lend themselves as background-art on a shelf, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pFhiu1yI/AAAAAAAAArI/YBg4ir2Hi-0/s1600-h/DSCF7148.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174470040496297762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pFhiu1yI/AAAAAAAAArI/YBg4ir2Hi-0/s320/DSCF7148.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I don't know what prompted me to search for vintage trays, but one day I did, and oh, man.  This was the first of about 5 that I have, and is probably my favorite.  I had to stop looking at them on e-bay because I kept finding more that I HAD to have, and certainly did not need.  E-bay is dangerous.  I find it best to just stay clear unless I'm looking for something very specific.  At any rate, this one is on the side table next to my chair in the living room.  It works well to keep a drink from toppling over because the wicker is not really conducive to that.  This piece of furniture used to be fairly useless at keeping anything upright but was turned into an extremely functional side table by adding a tray.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pGBiu1zI/AAAAAAAAArQ/lLZiTDlM_ec/s1600-h/yellow+tole+tray.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174470049086232370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pGBiu1zI/AAAAAAAAArQ/lLZiTDlM_ec/s320/yellow+tole+tray.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Thanks for stopping by!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-448496033635540221?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/448496033635540221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=448496033635540221&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/448496033635540221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/448496033635540221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/03/butter-cream-yellow.html' title='butter cream yellow'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R89pFBiu1xI/AAAAAAAAArA/e5MRDxxbSDo/s72-c/bath+towels.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-8751550244757422968</id><published>2008-03-04T17:59:00.016-09:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T20:16:20.047-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='decorating and nesting'/><title type='text'>a sea of blue &amp; green</title><content type='html'>Well, I certainly don't have the same knack for color &amp;amp; composition as &lt;a href="http://miastoriadivita.blogspot.com/"&gt;Miss Jerusalem&lt;/a&gt;, but here is my blue &amp;amp; green contribution to her week of color ~ a few of my favorite things....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At long last, my new coffee table. No, it's not round; I gave up on that search. This one did fit in perfectly with the overall look I've been transitioning into for the last few years, though ~ cottage, colorful, and comfortable. It was on sale in Pottery Barn, and I doubt I would have bought it had it been full price.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84SjRiu1pI/AAAAAAAAAqA/ufcKF09GmeQ/s1600-h/green+coffee+table.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174093419109078674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84SjRiu1pI/AAAAAAAAAqA/ufcKF09GmeQ/s320/green+coffee+table.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I purchased this darling little bathtub-soapdish from Anthropology when we bought our house. A sweet deal for $10, if I do say so myself. At one point, it used to have soap in it, but because I have a thing against bar soap (hate to use it, love pretty bars in pretty wrapping as decoration....except they get dusty &amp;amp; are impossible to clean, which I also hate), it is now used to hold earings &amp;amp; clips &amp;amp; things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84Sjxiu1qI/AAAAAAAAAqI/_VZp9XvFni0/s1600-h/bathtub+soap+dish.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174093427699013282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84Sjxiu1qI/AAAAAAAAAqI/_VZp9XvFni0/s320/bathtub+soap+dish.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;A couple more of my favorite bathroom items: the green tumbler I bought from &lt;a href="http://www.seejanework.com/"&gt;See Jane Work &lt;/a&gt;a few years back. It came with a little dish, as well, and I think I spent about $16 for the set. And $16 for the set I also purchased in white. Really glad I bought both as they are no longer available. The hand soap was a Christmas gift from my &lt;a href="http://500pieces.blogspot.com/"&gt;mom&lt;/a&gt;. Not only does it alleviate my bar-soap issue, but the bottle is really lovely to look at. And it smells good. Fresh and not a bit overpowering. With as much time that is spent in the bathroom, I think it only fitting that it be filled with pretty things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174098658969179890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84XURiu1vI/AAAAAAAAAqw/JBpbst-XFEM/s320/green+tumbler.JPG" border="0" /&gt; An assortment of my favorite green dishes. They have all come from my mom, the miniature planters (candles) from &lt;a href="http://tajbryant.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tanya&lt;/a&gt;, the antique apothocary bottles from a day-trip to Tenakee Springs Honey &amp;amp; I took a few summers ago, and the tiny white pitcher from the Habitat for Humanity store (50 cents) last summer in Little Rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84Skhiu1rI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/rzxO8ggj9A0/s1600-h/blues+%26+greens.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174093440583915186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84Skhiu1rI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/rzxO8ggj9A0/s320/blues+%26+greens.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I have always loved daisies. There is even a photo of me at about age 4 with my face painted in daisies at the State Fair. I bought this blue hand-towel, far too pretty to actually use, in &lt;a href="http://www.leavenworth.org/"&gt;Leavenworth&lt;/a&gt;, Washington summer before last. Honey &amp;amp; I spent a little over 2 weeks traveling around Oregon &amp;amp; Washington (we put a lot of mileage on the rental car), and his mom &amp;amp; step-dad thought I would enjoy Leavenworth. I did indeed ~ besides the fact that it was August &amp;amp; about 112 degrees, it was a charming little town with Christmas stores open all year round, and I had a great time with my in-laws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84SlBiu1sI/AAAAAAAAAqY/wWCR4WnBusY/s1600-h/daisy+handtowel.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174093449173849794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84SlBiu1sI/AAAAAAAAAqY/wWCR4WnBusY/s320/daisy+handtowel.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This "G" is one of the few items Honey brought into the relationship that has had a place of prominance in our home. He remembers it being in his house since he was in kindegarden, and isn't sure where it came from before that. It was previously painted black, but I of course had to add my cottage-blue flare. It sat in the garage for several months awaiting a second coat, which never happened. I think I had run out of paint. Some of the blue wore off showing the black underneath, but despite its imperfections (or maybe because of them) I decided it needed to be rehung. It is truly one of my favorite things, even before I took Honey's last name. Because it's special to him, it's special to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84Slhiu1tI/AAAAAAAAAqg/rrfmZ6HVWP4/s1600-h/G.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174093457763784402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84Slhiu1tI/AAAAAAAAAqg/rrfmZ6HVWP4/s320/G.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was treasure-hunting for colors last night, I took this photo of my Tiffany boxes. As Jerusalem said in her post, there are few colors finer than Tiffany &amp;amp; robin's egg blue, and I couldn't agree more. I doubt I'd have the same affinity for a lovely blue Tiffany box if I weren't so in love with Audrey &amp;amp; Breakfast at Tiffany's, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174098650379245282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84XTxiu1uI/AAAAAAAAAqo/NiBxegi6hU4/s320/Tiffany+boxes.JPG" border="0" /&gt; This picture frame, a wedding gift from Adam's cousin Sue, has more or less been the inspiration for what is now my decorating style. The frames are handcrafted from pieces of 150 year old cypress plantation buildings, and you can find them &lt;a href="http://www.lavilleframes.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. I loved the frame so much, I hung it on the wall sans photo until I found just the right photo worthy of being placed inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174098667559114498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84XUxiu1wI/AAAAAAAAAq4/HYAD-rxNamM/s320/shabby+frame.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see, I kinda like blues &amp;amp; greens...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-8751550244757422968?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/8751550244757422968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=8751550244757422968&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/8751550244757422968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/8751550244757422968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/03/sea-of-blue-green.html' title='a sea of blue &amp; green'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R84SjRiu1pI/AAAAAAAAAqA/ufcKF09GmeQ/s72-c/green+coffee+table.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-8379540810841864929</id><published>2008-03-01T18:09:00.007-09:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T18:32:57.513-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='decorating and nesting'/><title type='text'>pink!</title><content type='html'>Pink has never been a prevelant color in my home, but now that we're having the baby-girl, it seems to be showing up a bit more :) Below are a few of my favorite pink items, some old, some new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8odu842i9I/AAAAAAAAApo/bemkpEOKRog/s1600-h/pink+shoes.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172979814444207058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8odu842i9I/AAAAAAAAApo/bemkpEOKRog/s320/pink+shoes.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Too cute pink shoes from my &lt;a href="http://500pieces.blogspot.com/"&gt;mom&lt;/a&gt;. I think she's been enjoying shopping for her granddaughter ~ what do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8odzs42i_I/AAAAAAAAAp4/pWZ5Zxx_Fmg/s1600-h/tree+fall+bib.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172979896048585714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8odzs42i_I/AAAAAAAAAp4/pWZ5Zxx_Fmg/s320/tree+fall+bib.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This gorgeous bib, handmade by the fabulous Manda at &lt;a href="http://treefalldesign.typepad.com/"&gt;Treefall&lt;/a&gt;, couldn't be more perfect. I've been coveting one of Manda's bibs since I first saw them but was holding off purchasing one until we knew the sex of the baby. Then I found out, if you wait long enough, and you have a mother who knows you love Manda's creations, she will buy one for you :) Thanks mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8odtM42i8I/AAAAAAAAApg/R8fJrJKRay0/s1600-h/dried+rosebuds.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172979784379435970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8odtM42i8I/AAAAAAAAApg/R8fJrJKRay0/s320/dried+rosebuds.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;These dried rosebuds were given to me by my friend Nicole as a completely random just-saw-them-and-thought-of-you gifts. Aren't those the best kind of gifts? The rosebuds used to hang in my walk-in closet in our old apartment, but they now add a perfect, delicate touch to my bathroom. I've had them for years, and never grow tired of looking at them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8ody842i-I/AAAAAAAAApw/3st9-ZDHPc8/s1600-h/teacups.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172979883163683810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8ody842i-I/AAAAAAAAApw/3st9-ZDHPc8/s320/teacups.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who doesn't love beautiful teacups?  The first one  mom bought for me for my bridal shower, which had a garden-tea-party theme.  The second teacup I've had for years &amp;amp; years, and I'm sad to say, I can't remember where it came from.  The third teacup, not quite visible in the photo, was from my sister-in-law Michelle (assuming she &amp;amp; by brother ever set a wedding date!).  She bought if for me after Adam &amp;amp; I had gotten into a &lt;em&gt;huge&lt;/em&gt; fight a few years back, and knew I was extremely distrought over this particular argument.  She dropped the teacup off for me, just because.  It's wonderful to have such sweet &amp;amp; thoughtful people in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-8379540810841864929?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/8379540810841864929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=8379540810841864929&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/8379540810841864929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/8379540810841864929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/03/pink.html' title='pink!'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8odu842i9I/AAAAAAAAApo/bemkpEOKRog/s72-c/pink+shoes.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-1869108770777513284</id><published>2008-02-29T21:23:00.003-09:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T21:32:50.540-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>be nice or I'll sit on you</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8j4WM42i7I/AAAAAAAAApY/_j6Qqz1Whz8/s1600-h/29ish+weeks+(2).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172657232335506354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8j4WM42i7I/AAAAAAAAApY/_j6Qqz1Whz8/s320/29ish+weeks+(2).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, apparently when people say to me these days, &lt;em&gt;you sure there aren't twins in there?, &lt;/em&gt;there's something to it. This week, I measured at 32 weeks instead of the 29ish weeks that I am. My doctor said it's common to measure a centemeter or two off, but not 3. She suggested I have another ultrasound, just to make sure everything's okay. People have put the fear of twins into my head, but I think we've just got a really fat baby in there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-1869108770777513284?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/1869108770777513284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=1869108770777513284&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/1869108770777513284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/1869108770777513284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/02/be-nice-or-ill-sit-on-you.html' title='be nice or I&apos;ll sit on you'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8j4WM42i7I/AAAAAAAAApY/_j6Qqz1Whz8/s72-c/29ish+weeks+(2).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-6440919086961701650</id><published>2008-02-28T19:01:00.015-09:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T20:23:30.214-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='decorating and nesting'/><title type='text'>it's been so long...</title><content type='html'>It's been so long, it's hard to know where to begin....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so long, Honey has pointed out on more than one occasion that it's been a &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; long time since I've blogged. And honestly, I don't know why he cares, because he knows what I've been doing! I do like that he reads me, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so long that I've since forgotten all the little stories that I've wanted to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so long that the snow is down to about a foot in my yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so long, I FINALLY found a coffee table!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so long, I didn't even post my super-cute Valentine's card I made for Honey. But you can see it on my Flickr. And FYI, Honey made me a super-sweet Valentine's card filled with wedding photos &amp;amp; photos of the animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I turned back into a human after the months of being a raving lunatic, Honey &amp;amp; I have been busy finishing up the many house projects that we (I) have started &amp;amp; not finished. I figured that if we don't get them done now, before the baby comes, they won't &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; get finished. And with 11 weeks to go, let's just say I'm motivated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eMHs42i2I/AAAAAAAAAow/UuQz_fVmoPI/s1600-h/DSCF6942.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172256760994892642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eMHs42i2I/AAAAAAAAAow/UuQz_fVmoPI/s320/DSCF6942.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We emptied out the spare room and it became project-central. First ~ kitchen cupboard doors. Honey was adamently against painting them, and said this project was all me. And it was so much fun, I wanted to spread it out....for a year &amp;amp; a half. That's right. I started to paint the cupboards &amp;amp; doors somewhere around September of 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would have been much easier to paint them had I not been 7+ months pregnant. Honey did help prime some doors, but even better? He bought me lillies because I had been working so hard for so many evenings taping off &amp;amp; painting &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eQDM42i3I/AAAAAAAAAo4/ofsYWVhUOoA/s1600-h/cupboard.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172261081731992434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eQDM42i3I/AAAAAAAAAo4/ofsYWVhUOoA/s320/cupboard.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;those damn doors. It seemed like the project would NEVER end. And, oh, man, did my back ache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The colors are Benjamin Moore White Dove and Spring Morning. Once Honey installs the knobs, I'll post photos of the finished kitchen. Well, if I had my farmhouse sink, it would be finished, but for now, that remains a fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eTr842i6I/AAAAAAAAApQ/ZDgriqtjDdA/s1600-h/plume+bleu.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172265080346545058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eTr842i6I/AAAAAAAAApQ/ZDgriqtjDdA/s320/plume+bleu.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I re-painted the walls because I had done a crappy job when I painted them originally. Note to self: don't paint in a poorly lit room. The color is French General's Plume Bleu, and I love it. I also painted what was the craft room, which is now going to be the nursery, in Plume Bleu, and I love it so much, I'm not re-painting for the baby. And it didn't have a thing to do with the fact that I've got a huge to-do list before she comes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eQDs42i4I/AAAAAAAAApA/6HP1YCEWeIo/s1600-h/DSCF7068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172261090321927042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eQDs42i4I/AAAAAAAAApA/6HP1YCEWeIo/s320/DSCF7068.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Next,  Honey ripped up the carpet and primed the subfloor with Kilz paint to cover where Riley-Cat peed. Here's Honey is laying the "vapor barrier" (I had to ask just now what "that red stuff is called"). Doesn't he look handsome doing manual labor? I think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eQEM42i5I/AAAAAAAAApI/IzRVxo5b3Sc/s1600-h/honey+%26+flooring.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172261098911861650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eQEM42i5I/AAAAAAAAApI/IzRVxo5b3Sc/s320/honey+%26+flooring.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We'd been saving money for months to purchase the flooring for the spare room and for our bedroom, but we waited so long, the flooring we have in the living room, hallway, and nursery had since been discontinued and we had to pick another color &amp;amp; brand altogether.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new flooring, Pergo, isn't going down as easily as the Harmonics did. From what Honey tells me at least, and as evidenced by the slow progress he's making. (Honey, that's not a complaint, I'm just saying)  He thinks he'll be done by the end of the weekend ~ yippee! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots more to share....will write more over the weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-6440919086961701650?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/6440919086961701650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=6440919086961701650&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/6440919086961701650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/6440919086961701650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-been-so-long.html' title='it&apos;s been so long...'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R8eMHs42i2I/AAAAAAAAAow/UuQz_fVmoPI/s72-c/DSCF6942.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-6362896693214196769</id><published>2008-02-09T11:21:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T18:57:39.632-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Porter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>totally worth the $9.50</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64NhQ_9PZI/AAAAAAAAAoY/_KOrQtvWlnc/s1600-h/doodles+%26+his+polo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165080687790603666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64NhQ_9PZI/AAAAAAAAAoY/_KOrQtvWlnc/s320/doodles+%26+his+polo.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The other day, while looking for more maternity clothes because my work tops barely cover my belly any longer, I came across dog clothes on Old Navy. Adam said that anything that could make me laugh so hard after months of depression was worth buying. And, man was he right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64Nhw_9PaI/AAAAAAAAAog/lSH-lXaCNd4/s1600-h/doodles+%26+his+polo1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165080696380538274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64Nhw_9PaI/AAAAAAAAAog/lSH-lXaCNd4/s320/doodles+%26+his+polo1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I can't say as Doodles liked his new outfit as much as I did, but I haven't laughed that hard in months. So hard my stomach hurt. Harder than when Adam got his subscription for Fitness Magazine, and harder than when we tried putting socks on Porter and my brother's dog Kona. And believe me, that was FUNNY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64NiQ_9PbI/AAAAAAAAAoo/Dh_hsSvAjCU/s1600-h/26+weeks.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165080704970472882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64NiQ_9PbI/AAAAAAAAAoo/Dh_hsSvAjCU/s320/26+weeks.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And it feels so good to feel like &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt; again. The me who doesn't freak out over idiot drivers. The me who isn't compelled to throw heavy objects in the general direction of my husband. The me who can't wait to see Doodles when we get home from work instead of being annoyed at his affections. The me who has the energy to clean my house and get on with the projects that have been on hold for months. The me who is finally enjoying my pregnancy ~ back aches, swollen feet, itchy skin, and all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-6362896693214196769?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/6362896693214196769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=6362896693214196769&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/6362896693214196769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/6362896693214196769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/02/totally-worth-950.html' title='totally worth the $9.50'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64NhQ_9PZI/AAAAAAAAAoY/_KOrQtvWlnc/s72-c/doodles+%26+his+polo.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-4558758957688567824</id><published>2008-02-09T10:36:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T18:52:48.075-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Porter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juneau'/><title type='text'>enough already!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64JYQ_9PYI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/6rpxvqdLGK8/s1600-h/doodles+in+the+snow.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165076135125269890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64JYQ_9PYI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/6rpxvqdLGK8/s320/doodles+in+the+snow.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Snow, snow &amp;amp; more snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today we are forecasted to get 24 inches of snow. 24 inches!! Old man winter can, in the words of &lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com/"&gt;Dooce&lt;/a&gt;, suck it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64E6g_9PWI/AAAAAAAAAoA/ffvgd5QJiqM/s1600-h/external+temp1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165071225977650530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64E6g_9PWI/AAAAAAAAAoA/ffvgd5QJiqM/s320/external+temp1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This would be the temp as we were driving hom from work yesterday. The temp when we were driving &lt;em&gt;into&lt;/em&gt; work? -12. -12! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64E6Q_9PVI/AAAAAAAAAn4/6nMO-NzodP8/s1600-h/bottle+%26+the+snow.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165071221682683218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64E6Q_9PVI/AAAAAAAAAn4/6nMO-NzodP8/s320/bottle+%26+the+snow.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The only good thing I can say about all this snow, is that it has shown me what sweet neighbors we have. Not that I ever thought they were bad neighbors, but the last week, they've been really wonderful. Last Saturday while Adam was in bed with the fever, I was attempting to shovel our driveway with the worst designed shovel &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt;, and not making much progress. Neighbor Dave from across the street came over with this snowblower and finished the job for me. He even came over in the evening after the snowplow had come by. The next day, after receiving several more inches of snow, our other-half neighbor Kelly had completely snowblowed our driveway. I'm telling you, the best neighbors ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-4558758957688567824?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/4558758957688567824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=4558758957688567824&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/4558758957688567824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/4558758957688567824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/02/enough-already.html' title='enough already!'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R64JYQ_9PYI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/6rpxvqdLGK8/s72-c/doodles+in+the+snow.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-3367695950527605813</id><published>2008-02-01T18:43:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T20:15:01.521-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Porter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>week in review</title><content type='html'>Can I just say that this was one loooonnngggg week? I still can't hardly believe it's Friday and I can finally exhale. We arrived home from work to find a care package from Adam's parents (baby clothes &amp;amp; some Valentine's goodies) AND my diploma! After working my ass off for 5 years, taking about 5 years off, finally finishing my last two classes a couple years back, putting of submitting my graduation application, battling with my so-called advisor on whether or not I had fulfilled my degree requirements, I officially have a degree in Bachelors of Business Administration with an emphasis in Accounting. All would be grand if Honey weren't currently caccooned on the couch with a fever of 101.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R6PvE1CbaqI/AAAAAAAAAnw/2Eq--Bq9vMo/s1600-h/DSCF6870.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162232464132500130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R6PvE1CbaqI/AAAAAAAAAnw/2Eq--Bq9vMo/s320/DSCF6870.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last night I gave my feet a good soaking. I realized at about 3:00 in the afternoon that my left foot was incredibly swollen. So much so that it didn't fit into my slip-ons anymore &amp;amp; hung off the edge of my shoe by about a 1/2 inch. Yes, I have officially entered into the uncomfortable phase of pregnancy. Other than that, I was having a decent day. Until I dropped my Country Home into my tub of water, and it pretty much went downhill from there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; give me a good laugh this week? Getting the bill for a Fitness magazine subscription. See, Honey decided to enter us into the Publisher's Clearing House win-$5000-a-week-for-life contest. To do so, they of course try to get you to buy various subscriptions. (did anyone else collect the PCH magazine stamps when they were a kid? I used to &lt;em&gt;hoard&lt;/em&gt; them.) Anyway, Honey had to uncheck all the boxes so he could just enter the contest &amp;amp; not wind up with a hundred subscriptions. So when we got the bill for Fitness magazine (one of the most unlikely magazines you will ever find in our household), I about peed my pants from laughing so hard. He said ~ &lt;em&gt;one must have slipped by me!&lt;/em&gt; Then yesterday, he received a package for 3 children books. Looks like he missed more than one box....and signed up for a children's book membership in the process. Good thing we're having a kid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I made the very difficult decision to go back on zoloft. I tried really hard to make it through my entire pregnancy, to give my baby the best possible environment to grow in, but I just couldn't do it anymore. It has put too much of a strain on me, on Adam, on poor helpless Doodles, and on my family in general. My doctor assured me that my baby is fully developed, that she's just growing at this point. I still worried that it would put too much of a strain on her delicate little system or that she'd go through withdrawals after she's born, but as the nurse pointed out today, babies survive far worse traumas. I have to believe that this is the right choice for my family. What I've gone through in the past months have to be far worse on her than me being on medication for the remainder of my pregnancy. So, here's to me feeling better and bringing some peace back into my home. Honey, thank you for putting up with me all this time. Thank you for not leaving me when I screamed at you to. Thank you for not giving into me when I believed I wasn't fit to be a wife or a mother. I love you all the bits...plus one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R6Prp1CbaoI/AAAAAAAAAng/gclTxZmcoP4/s1600-h/play+with+me.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162228701741148802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R6Prp1CbaoI/AAAAAAAAAng/gclTxZmcoP4/s320/play+with+me.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And finally, your requisite Doodles picture:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Play with me!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R6Prp1CbaoI/AAAAAAAAAng/gclTxZmcoP4/s1600-h/play+with+me.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R6PrpVCbanI/AAAAAAAAAnY/GL1pqcf4bKg/s1600-h/he+won%27t+play+with+me.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162228693151214194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R6PrpVCbanI/AAAAAAAAAnY/GL1pqcf4bKg/s320/he+won%27t+play+with+me.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mom ~ he's not playing with me!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;gotta love that Doodles!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am sorry, but is he not the most handsome dog you've ever seen?  I know we're obsessed with him, but how could we not be??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-3367695950527605813?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/3367695950527605813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=3367695950527605813&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/3367695950527605813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/3367695950527605813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/02/week-in-review.html' title='week in review'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R6PvE1CbaqI/AAAAAAAAAnw/2Eq--Bq9vMo/s72-c/DSCF6870.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-7430305432170311069</id><published>2008-01-30T20:29:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T20:45:05.495-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bits'/><title type='text'>call me amazed...</title><content type='html'>or not so bright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me, or is anyone else shocked at the ease you can find the answer to your question via the magic that is GOOGLE?  Just now, because my curiosity finally won over, I googled "AT&amp;amp;T commercial with monkey" to find out who sings the song, and BAM!  Amos Lee, "Sweet Pea".  Sweet pea, apple of my eye....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I googled "macbook envelope commercial song", and BAM!  "New Soul" by Yael Naïm.  The internet rocks!  I had to add "song" to the search, because believe it or not, when you just google "macbook envelope commercial", the song does not immediately show up in the results list.  Go figure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing I think is really cool?  All the other people out there doing there doing exactly the same thing as me.  Googling not to find out more about the product, but to find out who sings the songs in the commercial.  Do you think the product developers and ad execs intended on that??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And PS, Honey googled the HP commercial last year to find out who sung the Picturebook song for me, and bought me the Kinks cd.  It really is the little things in life that make me happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-7430305432170311069?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/7430305432170311069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=7430305432170311069&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/7430305432170311069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/7430305432170311069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/01/call-me-amazed.html' title='call me amazed...'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-6188634221321927471</id><published>2008-01-29T18:27:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T19:17:51.695-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Porter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juneau'/><title type='text'>good stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_x0VCbajI/AAAAAAAAAm4/aAD44n-4lWY/s1600-h/february+magazines.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161109579292699186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_x0VCbajI/AAAAAAAAAm4/aAD44n-4lWY/s320/february+magazines.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Pretty in pink! Some might say I have a magazine addiction. "Some", being my husband. He also says I have a fruit addiction. (out of a $65 grocery bill, about $50 of that was fruit. seriously) Anyhoo, I loved all the February magazines, as I'm sure you did, too. I actually haven't read the Country Living yet, but if it's as good as last month's which featured bits on Russell &amp;amp; Hazel (love, love, love R &amp;amp; H), See Jane Work (love them even more than R &amp;amp; H), and Amy Butler (who &lt;em&gt;doesn't&lt;/em&gt; love Amy Butler?), I'm in for a treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_x1lCbalI/AAAAAAAAAnI/VuN9esE0XcY/s1600-h/snowy+escape.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161109600767535698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_x1lCbalI/AAAAAAAAAnI/VuN9esE0XcY/s320/snowy+escape.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Not gonna lie ~ we had a bit of snow last weekend. And because we love him so much, we bought Porter a new car ~ a Ford Escape. It was our intention to buy a new vehicle before the baby was born, one that we could put Porter in the way-back &amp;amp; he wouldn't step on the baby. It was our intention to shop around a bit, do some test drives, do some research on-line, and be ready to negotiate like pros. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; our intention to test drive one vehicle, hang out in the car dealership for 2 1/2 hours, and drive home with a new car. But that's what happens when you spend 2 1/2 hours in a car &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_29lCbamI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/SUh_BEK7L1o/s1600-h/DSCF6837.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161115235764628066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_29lCbamI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/SUh_BEK7L1o/s320/DSCF6837.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;dealership while they "run some numbers", and check with their boss because we were "lucky" enough to get the guy so new, he didn't even have business cards printed, and then they run some more numbers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They get you.  And I didn't even get to drive my Jetta one last time.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, the car is growing on me, and in my heart, I know it was the right choice for our growing family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_x1FCbakI/AAAAAAAAAnA/kXLCrGmZFhU/s1600-h/books+from+honey.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161109592177601090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_x1FCbakI/AAAAAAAAAnA/kXLCrGmZFhU/s320/books+from+honey.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;He really does love me!  Honey went on-line to buy a gate for the back of the new car so Porter wouldn't be tempted to hop over the back seats, and don't think he wouldn't try.  Honey also bought me 2 new books!  I asked if they were from my Amazon wish list, and he said that no, no, they were from &lt;em&gt;his&lt;/em&gt; recommendations.  Since he only buys things for me on Amazon &amp;amp; never anything for himself, Amazon is of the impression that he's gay.  And I don't mean to offend gays, I just think it's funny that Amazon recommends things like decorating books and chic-flicks.  Tell me that's not funny!  And I love these books.  I want to crawl inside and live in the pages of these books.  Thank you, Honey ~ I love you! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_x1FCbakI/AAAAAAAAAnA/kXLCrGmZFhU/s1600-h/books+from+honey.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-6188634221321927471?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/6188634221321927471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=6188634221321927471&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/6188634221321927471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/6188634221321927471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/01/good-stuff.html' title='good stuff'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5_x0VCbajI/AAAAAAAAAm4/aAD44n-4lWY/s72-c/february+magazines.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915551909553399839.post-7256076888972454816</id><published>2008-01-18T20:50:00.000-09:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T23:18:56.455-09:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juneau'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Oh, did I say SUNDAY?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GTtMMuNWI/AAAAAAAAAk8/TTtRwIfVTO0/s1600-h/100th+post+prize.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157065452893910370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GTtMMuNWI/AAAAAAAAAk8/TTtRwIfVTO0/s320/100th+post+prize.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ummmm, yeah. So I missed the mark by a week. Or two. We'll just say that I was having some bad days and leave it at that, shall we? I've had 3 WHOLE day without tears, though, so that's some good news!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The 100th post winner ~ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://mtngrlinak.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sherrie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;! If you want to see some really amazing photos of Alaska, check out her blog. She's a total bad-ass, is one of the sweetest girls I know, and I think I can safely say she was one of Adam's favorite people to work with on the glacier. Thanks for your encouraging comments, Sherrie ~ I hope you like your notebook!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Honey &amp;amp; I have had an adventure of our own, although nothing like climbing ice falls. This past weekend, we went on an annual camping trip to celebrate the 3rd anniversary of our dear friend &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://billkozlowski.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Bill's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;death. Through Billy, we have made some equally amazing friends; people who accepted us into their group for no other reason than because we were okay in the eyes of Bill. And if there was anything I could say about Bill, it's that if Bill said it was a good idea, you believed it was a good idea, too. That was just Bill's way. To be in Bill's world was something incredibly special, and those who knew him know exactly what I mean. I could say I felt slighted that I knew him for such a short time, but I don't think Bill would approve of that sort of thinking. Instead, I will be grateful for the months that I did have him in my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The camping trip was at Cowee Meadows, a 2.1 mile hike from the road. Adam &amp;amp; I have done this hike several times, but never in these conditions. And FYI, hiking in thigh-high snow while 6 months pregnant: NOT EASY. Ordinarily I would rather shoot myself in the foot than say anything negative about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com/daily-photo/2008/01/11/isolated"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dooce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;, but I'm sorry; her snow is &lt;em&gt;nothing&lt;/em&gt; compared to this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GaO8MuNZI/AAAAAAAAAlU/2Fgh2Pc5Q9U/s1600-h/honey+%26+doodles+hiking+to+Cowee.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157072629784262034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GaO8MuNZI/AAAAAAAAAlU/2Fgh2Pc5Q9U/s320/honey+%26+doodles+hiking+to+Cowee.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Honey went first to pave the way for me &amp;amp; Doodles, not that it didn't still suck. This is where we made the foolish, foolish mistake of cutting out into the meadows rather than stick to the trail in the woods, which under normal circumstances would make the hike considerably shorter. Not the case when there's 2 feet of fresh snow on the ground. We cut back into the woods as soon as we could, but by that point, I was already so sore I could hardly lift my legs. I was not anticipating the strain it would put on my hips and on my body in general. And when one falls, which I did about a dozen times, it's really, REALLY hard to get back up when you're in that much snow, and totally off balance with a backpack &amp;amp; a big belly. I am not ashamed to say I used Doodles as a brace to get myself back up on more than one occasion. He just looked at me like ~ &lt;em&gt;Excuse me? What is this we're doing??&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GaPcMuNaI/AAAAAAAAAlc/wVHDXoMrrog/s1600-h/me+hiking+to+Cowee.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157072638374196642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GaPcMuNaI/AAAAAAAAAlc/wVHDXoMrrog/s320/me+hiking+to+Cowee.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And this would be me, wearing Honey's outdoor gear because none of mine fits anymore, and obviously early enough in the hike that I'm still smiling. Trust me when I say that I would only make this trek in this condition for Billy K. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GaOMMuNXI/AAAAAAAAAlE/Sf2ue1Q3vsE/s1600-h/Cowee+Meadows+Cabin+2008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157072616899360114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GaOMMuNXI/AAAAAAAAAlE/Sf2ue1Q3vsE/s320/Cowee+Meadows+Cabin+2008.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This is what relief looked like to me on that day: seeing the cabin after 2 VERY long hours of hiking. Cowee Meadows is one of my most favorite places to be, although we only camp here once a year. We used to come out with 2 other couples on another annual trip, but they've since moved away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GaOsMuNYI/AAAAAAAAAlM/JMZ3bhnKhb0/s1600-h/Cowee+Meadows+Jan08.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157072625489294722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GaOsMuNYI/AAAAAAAAAlM/JMZ3bhnKhb0/s320/Cowee+Meadows+Jan08.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This trip, there were 3 other couples, 3 dogs, and one toddler named Meadow ~ named for these meadows. Six of us slept upstairs in the loft while the couple with the toddler slept downstairs. Between the crinkling of sleeping bags, pacing dogs, the fear of a mouse coming into my sleeping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;bag, multiple snorers, and Meadow, who woke up screaming in the middle of the night, I got very little sleep. Oh, and because I didn't have the strengh to move my legs, to roll over I had to either manually lift my legs or use the slope of the cabin's roof for momentum. And worrying about a mouse coming to visit? Not for not. I woke up to the light of a headlamp because a mouse was on Bret's face. ON. BRET'S. FACE. He handled it much, much better than I would have.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5Go4sMuNbI/AAAAAAAAAlk/VEW5lKP8rFc/s1600-h/DSCF6801.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157088740206589362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5Go4sMuNbI/AAAAAAAAAlk/VEW5lKP8rFc/s320/DSCF6801.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The drive home was no piece of cake, either. Not for Porter, of course, who slept the whole way. There was about a foot of snow on the road, and there is no road mainenance that far "out the road". There were times that the car got a little squirrely, heading dangerously close the edge (the edge being a cliff that dropped off to the ocean). I'd put my hand firmly on Honey's leg, as if &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;, not his seatbelt, was going to keep him from being tossed through the windshield. It somehow makes me feel better, though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My poor body has since recovered, and even though I am so glad we made the trip, I don't think we'll make it next year with an 8-month old baby in tow. I may have been a trooper this year, but I have my limits! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GxZsMuNdI/AAAAAAAAAl0/mZ2NJKJBTfM/s1600-h/24+weeks.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157098103235294674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GxZsMuNdI/AAAAAAAAAl0/mZ2NJKJBTfM/s320/24+weeks.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Me at 24 weeks. I'm not thrilled with my face getting fatter &amp;amp; fatter, but I rather like my belly. Sometimes I still can't believe this is my body, that I've got a real little person growing inside me. Until she starts kicking &amp;amp; punching. I think I will miss that feeling. I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; I will. She's kicking hard enough for Honey to feel, which I'm sure makes this more real to him, too. Sometimes we sit with our hands on my belly going ~ F&lt;em&gt;elt that! Felt that! &lt;/em&gt;Even though my pregnancy hasn't been easy for me, I am still amazed every day that there's a baby in there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4915551909553399839-7256076888972454816?l=simplyblissful.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/feeds/7256076888972454816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4915551909553399839&amp;postID=7256076888972454816&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/7256076888972454816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4915551909553399839/posts/default/7256076888972454816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplyblissful.blogspot.com/2008/01/oh-did-i-say-sunday.html' title='Oh, did I say SUNDAY?'/><author><name>tracy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13341796133896796756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08578457507075185418'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5GfehrVa0Xc/R5GTtMMuNWI/AAAAAAAAAk8/TTtRwIfVTO0/s72-c/100th+post+prize.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry></feed>