tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24002598961827641382024-03-18T23:10:59.726-04:00Pickle JuiceHaving A Well Preserved Life That Is Both Sweet And SourKellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.comBlogger537125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-7843181424041495092017-01-11T10:54:00.000-05:002017-01-11T11:06:52.459-05:00Because it's been on my mind...<div style="text-align: justify;">
Last year my husband and I were having a conversation about marriage. He mentioned how a customer had shared with him a really heartfelt story about the end of her marriage to her husband. That, after many years of marriage, she had left because she wasn't fulfilled and that she wanted to show her daughters that they didn't have to settle for being unfulfilled in a marriage they were stuck in.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And then I said a swear word at him.</div>
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It was more of a swear-phrase really.</div>
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It's one I never say because it's outside of my first-tier swearing wheelhouse.</div>
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It was bull$#!*</div>
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<br /></div>
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Maybe I'll regret this later.</div>
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Maybe I'm an idiot.</div>
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Maybe I'm totally naive
and just plain wrong.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But I feel like it's kinda bull$#!*</div>
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Now, obviously there are marriages filled with abuse and affairs and other atrocities. But that wasn't what this woman was describing. She was describing growing apart. Not agreeing on things. Not "filling each other's needs".</div>
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<br /></div>
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If I ended my marriage after a really awful year (or years) of feeling really unfulfilled then our marriage would have ended in mid 2007. Our kids would have been torn between their parents and their lives altered forever.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Does my generation (where so many still have married parents) realize that the point at which your parents told you they were divorcing lives forever as the defining moment of your entire life?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Do spouses realize when they end their marriage that their children have to tell this as part of their story. That every first date, every life sketch, every new roommate they meet...they will include that sentence, no matter what? "My parents divorced when I was insert age here." Because it will. I don't think we take this seriously enough. I'm not sure my generation realizes that their divorce will effect every. single. relationship. their children have from that moment on. It's kind of awful.</div>
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I'm not trying to be judgmental of this group of divorcees. I'm just kind of baffled and heart broken by this (seemingly) new generation of my peers ending their marriages because they aren't happy anymore.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes marriages are miserable.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes marriages are miserable for a long time.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes you look at your spouse and think,</div>
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Holy crap. Is this the biggest mistake of my life?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes you look at your spouse and think,</div>
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I hate this person. A lot.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But I don't think you have to leave.</div>
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<br /></div>
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My husband and I have been through the depths of hell. Yeah, it's figurative, but it almost seems like this could be a moment when I make Millennials proud and say "literally".</div>
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<br /></div>
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But we keep going.</div>
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Because we said we would.</div>
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<br /></div>
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We said we would stay married even when it was hell.</div>
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Even when we were each other's least favorite person on earth.</div>
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Even when we felt completely "unfulfilled" and even "unhappy".</div>
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Even when we thought we couldn't go on.</div>
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Even after 2007.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I hope we always keep going.</div>
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I hope we never give up.</div>
</div>
Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-39942878875654979832012-12-18T18:21:00.003-05:002012-12-18T20:22:32.156-05:0027There’s nothing I can say about Newtown that adequately sums up my broken heart right now. I told Michael yesterday that I just don’t think my heart was made for a world like this. And this morning it dawned on me how true that statement is, for all of us. None of our hearts were made for a world like this. We were not created for this. I believe down to the core of my being that God is good, and that we were created in God’s image. This broken world is not our home. Which leaves me with two thoughts: one, thank God. But two, we have to do the best we can with this mess we have. Heaven is here everyday…and so is hell. It’s up to us to decide which we will nurture. And friends, we were created for good. You were created for good.
Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-56379929452713459592012-10-30T10:23:00.001-04:002012-10-30T10:23:25.898-04:00Tap-Tap-TapIs this thing on?
Contemplating blogging again. It's been awhile.
I suppose I'll think about it a bit longer...Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-75272270647509062232012-04-08T17:24:00.001-04:002012-04-08T17:24:59.760-04:00He Lives!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBSkYv__kMO6vAFzUxa4Tm9_xbQ_ZYqDDA58PjlclMGdMmUCvcw75oWQLUfkL3edBpIsW591_skL24XxTuET3PQXCROd6IyF57A-jXnrjhLzRkqbzWGRM6Ytko4933rZwcQHAVtlmPMsj/s1600/HeIsRisen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBSkYv__kMO6vAFzUxa4Tm9_xbQ_ZYqDDA58PjlclMGdMmUCvcw75oWQLUfkL3edBpIsW591_skL24XxTuET3PQXCROd6IyF57A-jXnrjhLzRkqbzWGRM6Ytko4933rZwcQHAVtlmPMsj/s400/HeIsRisen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729143998394134978" /></a>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-48130050554034474222012-02-23T11:50:00.001-05:002012-02-23T11:50:43.253-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpdIUdenk5_yBJ0Iemlc_rXOQb_KMBSG5_gGvESky-jQTnpvzH-y2_eKeSpFwXoYKYjvyMJknSqV3FqNluXHWbOV3y1-HSp4HNeP8sRMuShr8llIxlSNc2tEZ590eNhWEaxLPshFM5Ivo/s1600/God+orchestrating.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpdIUdenk5_yBJ0Iemlc_rXOQb_KMBSG5_gGvESky-jQTnpvzH-y2_eKeSpFwXoYKYjvyMJknSqV3FqNluXHWbOV3y1-HSp4HNeP8sRMuShr8llIxlSNc2tEZ590eNhWEaxLPshFM5Ivo/s400/God+orchestrating.jpg" /></a></div>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-11770373943406884812012-01-18T11:00:00.000-05:002012-01-18T11:01:07.203-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhI79FUkIdaJMZpEwjUx38yDEmfnDWojBPqHUt6c3QpM6-UWTqy7y-94UO3DKFve-SO1iqnVhdG_g6-w9vJ_JE1SadxVpuUoaMnyzZwH_pfmjqLWy-XEL0G4B-W7UqiDm7TSbdIjyg4GJP/s1600/194710383859113201_EceSfVUo_c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhI79FUkIdaJMZpEwjUx38yDEmfnDWojBPqHUt6c3QpM6-UWTqy7y-94UO3DKFve-SO1iqnVhdG_g6-w9vJ_JE1SadxVpuUoaMnyzZwH_pfmjqLWy-XEL0G4B-W7UqiDm7TSbdIjyg4GJP/s400/194710383859113201_EceSfVUo_c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699002681430378130" /></a>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-43778650203768118732012-01-15T18:55:00.003-05:002012-01-15T18:57:14.943-05:00What It's Like To Be MeClick on cartoon to see the entire thing.<br /><br /><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBM2fAmfr0tIzycZFDj6ox5mWiVfqqUPv2an7GqQRGE8wSPgZ3fanguQOF1m21Ee2MF5M_pLKsNGhGwaNjV9yin1Igit5x4_4uNWVA-tgIjTy-GM1In_SV25eNFPpFODP1zi37VwKdsRU/s640/blogger-image-651806811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBM2fAmfr0tIzycZFDj6ox5mWiVfqqUPv2an7GqQRGE8wSPgZ3fanguQOF1m21Ee2MF5M_pLKsNGhGwaNjV9yin1Igit5x4_4uNWVA-tgIjTy-GM1In_SV25eNFPpFODP1zi37VwKdsRU/s640/blogger-image-651806811.jpg" /></a></div>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-73816703677648580272012-01-09T20:30:00.000-05:002012-01-09T20:31:27.924-05:00The Truth<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvNIiYoyId_zu2NdAR8uaYJXmgBK0pvoh7ZVcgW4Dbfq2FTHD3phzhktB3MtMrH7jsPVPohkmI26DMVmB_FV0FE8-Iqygys2LlISoGLacpre50DdqK8FiYDpiTedEX2JxBuQ1Wtjc8y6k/s1600/37576978110600597_i7RihStu_c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvNIiYoyId_zu2NdAR8uaYJXmgBK0pvoh7ZVcgW4Dbfq2FTHD3phzhktB3MtMrH7jsPVPohkmI26DMVmB_FV0FE8-Iqygys2LlISoGLacpre50DdqK8FiYDpiTedEX2JxBuQ1Wtjc8y6k/s400/37576978110600597_i7RihStu_c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695809857641583618" /></a>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-66542536906787707992012-01-07T09:53:00.002-05:002012-01-07T09:58:31.182-05:00I Need SleepI have suffered from insomnia for years. It is not enjoyable. I am currently in a period of sleeplessness and I'm averaging 2-3 hours a night. I'm irritable and snappy. (Just ask the people I live with.) I really need a good 8 hour night soon, not sure how much more of this I can take.Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-47638239892256221032012-01-05T14:47:00.003-05:002012-01-05T15:42:03.604-05:00Confessions of a Christmas Nerd<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0XZPvMEIdwrV0L-hhitubrwoXVBTdvENkUDLxnW-zfSUJXdhpQdIZjgKZppTxJ7wV5MIPU25gi8UO9vVWnG2UZ7lsUwz2YUbkjW0w_DOJQ2EOqE97dVZp3rIoemN3TEo6dO6sOCOMBCX/s1600/514.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0XZPvMEIdwrV0L-hhitubrwoXVBTdvENkUDLxnW-zfSUJXdhpQdIZjgKZppTxJ7wV5MIPU25gi8UO9vVWnG2UZ7lsUwz2YUbkjW0w_DOJQ2EOqE97dVZp3rIoemN3TEo6dO6sOCOMBCX/s400/514.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694250960115505954" /></a><br /><br />My Christmas decorations are still up. Honestly, I don't want to take them down because they make me happy. I'm thinking that maybe I'll leave it up all year. Kind of like my own personal<a href="http://bronners.com"> Bronners</a>. Okay, so I really won't do this, but I really want to.Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-59551125062363223712012-01-04T15:16:00.000-05:002012-01-04T15:17:46.429-05:00Project 365After a 2 year break, I am back to posting on my <a href="http://kells-project365.blogspot.com">Project 365</a> blog. Stop by and maybe leave a comment.Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-13191836354142202012-01-03T18:19:00.002-05:002012-01-03T18:20:49.439-05:00Rules For 20121. Free your heart from hatred.<br /><br />2. Free your mind from worries.<br /><br />3. Live simply.<br /><br />4. Give more.<br /><br />5. Expect less.Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-63299980723895134972011-12-25T22:50:00.000-05:002011-12-25T22:53:16.197-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheu-LbEhkMLyI9awCLBMVFLg4D_l3KyfXjDDB2Gptatt8z0wzx_umUn9EiAroXNjntUmod05DvP5_-oqNohXHVJlOnsVNQEylfRc8_o47cmGtvF7Bem0C8xsQP4KMvsd9zG0NykQq4pr6d/s1600/christmasfacebook.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheu-LbEhkMLyI9awCLBMVFLg4D_l3KyfXjDDB2Gptatt8z0wzx_umUn9EiAroXNjntUmod05DvP5_-oqNohXHVJlOnsVNQEylfRc8_o47cmGtvF7Bem0C8xsQP4KMvsd9zG0NykQq4pr6d/s400/christmasfacebook.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690280126288225874" /></a>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-51755147769611981862011-12-14T08:44:00.000-05:002011-12-14T08:45:42.472-05:00December?Remember all of my well-laid December plans?<br />Of cookie making and shopping and present wrapping?<br />I haven't got any of it done.<br />Because I suck.<br />Bleh.<br />I am mad at me.Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-26264674246572766772011-11-27T19:43:00.000-05:002011-11-27T19:44:11.301-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWgmsbqwCiF8DW10A-_fitFqBZ1ad572TT9bRMUf5xNwg8lzPH4VDe8pbnxM7nu3wwndQ2PbDNykcQ6OQQ3TBRFqdQSq6H2BKwXled4O-kucCJDcKft-QoG8j8vKQcYlB8UAJruNta-g1/s1600/010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWgmsbqwCiF8DW10A-_fitFqBZ1ad572TT9bRMUf5xNwg8lzPH4VDe8pbnxM7nu3wwndQ2PbDNykcQ6OQQ3TBRFqdQSq6H2BKwXled4O-kucCJDcKft-QoG8j8vKQcYlB8UAJruNta-g1/s400/010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679841003116604578" border="0" /></a>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-82594565416811126272011-11-23T14:17:00.000-05:002011-11-23T14:23:41.003-05:00Maddy's Other LifeSo the other day I took Maddy with me to the store. This is how it went:<br /><br />[in parking lot]<br /><br />Girl I Don't Recognize: "Hi Maddy!"<br />Maddy: "Hi!"<br />Me, when she's out of earshot: "Maddy, who was that?"<br />Maddy: "Oh, a girl that goes to my school. She's not in any of my classes, though."<br /><br />[in produce section]<br /><br />Boy I Don't Recognize: "Hi Maddy!"<br />Maddy: "Hi!"<br />Me, when he's out of earshot: "Who was that?"<br />Maddy: "Oh, a boy that goes to my school."<br />Me: "Is he in your classes?"<br />Maddy: "No, but I see him in the hallway."<br /><br />[two minutes later]<br /><br />Woman I Don't Recognize: "Hi Maddy!"<br />Maddy: "Hi!"<br />Me, when she's out of earshot: "Maddy, who was that?"<br />Maddy: "Oh, that's Mrs. So and So, she teaches Senior history."<br />Me: !!<br /><br />This continued on throughout the store two more times. It was like grocery shopping with some sort of celebrity, I tell you. <br /><br />I am intrigued at this other life she leads, where she seems to know every single person in the universe.<br /><br />For the record: I did not see a single person I knew at the store.Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-466931620748852652011-10-29T08:53:00.003-04:002011-11-01T11:28:38.595-04:00HeartbrokenSweet baby Mandy Grace went to be with Jesus yesterday afternoon. I am heartbroken for my friend. Please keep Carrie, her husband, Don and their kids, Gabby, Moses and Melody in your prayers.Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-77037738889031704452011-10-08T10:32:00.001-04:002011-10-08T10:33:53.983-04:00Mandy Grace Update from Carrie<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMLZGiUMSERj8Aln0WsNx5A2LcJJKa9XLtmb2R72iq6XN_ry2Cx_Q9dpPcPS9hlRlguvCMSMJKpG-asO-YCFOXnMdE1ZjtHi58yvL9yuBRE6-U0dpsrJy1A2LcktoJNMSPOjnr5TcdZIPH/s1600/mand.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMLZGiUMSERj8Aln0WsNx5A2LcJJKa9XLtmb2R72iq6XN_ry2Cx_Q9dpPcPS9hlRlguvCMSMJKpG-asO-YCFOXnMdE1ZjtHi58yvL9yuBRE6-U0dpsrJy1A2LcktoJNMSPOjnr5TcdZIPH/s400/mand.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661129484980704290" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><div class="mvm uiStreamAttachments clearfix" ft="{"type":10}" style="margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; zoom: 1; "><div><div class="fsm fwn fcg" style="font-size: 11px; color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "><div class="mts uiAttachmentDesc translationEligibleUserAttachmentMessage" style="margin-top: 5px; word-wrap: break-word; color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">Day 19, Our baby has Trisomy 18. An extra chromosome. Three of the #18 chromosome instead of two. Well, so what? Sounds pretty benign. doesn't it? After all, we have what, 46 all together? What's one extra chromosome among friends? Well, it turns out that one little #18 chromosome has more power than all the others put together. It is a tiny tornado, packing a destructive force stronger than life itself. Each day is borrowed from here on out. Today we are going to try out our car seat in the house to see if we may be strong enough to travel... Possibly to Church and Thank Everyone in Person for Praying for Us!</div><div><br /></div></div></div></div><form rel="async" class="commentable_item collapsed_comments autoexpand_mode" method="post" action="http://www.facebook.com/ajax/ufi/modify.php" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiStreamFooter" style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); zoom: 1; "></div></form></span>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-71744595339331064402011-09-29T10:41:00.003-04:002011-09-29T11:08:11.835-04:00Q & A with Elek, Age 3 1/2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaITNKYlN1Nv5WwSmhdViwlNrbCv9T7cye9qQZY9TLpJgmfxmfsJEYo6o9WGjfXNgBFjCgbyJqyBTgzB8U3_d9QEO5uqBNunzY-Zg1twKlHwYwJcjmR2nfup_YT7pzCbTE9TLbev2-wHfK/s1600/Pocketbooth-11-09-27-17-08-11.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 75px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaITNKYlN1Nv5WwSmhdViwlNrbCv9T7cye9qQZY9TLpJgmfxmfsJEYo6o9WGjfXNgBFjCgbyJqyBTgzB8U3_d9QEO5uqBNunzY-Zg1twKlHwYwJcjmR2nfup_YT7pzCbTE9TLbev2-wHfK/s400/Pocketbooth-11-09-27-17-08-11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657792147896438226" /></a><br />1. How old are you?<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>3</i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div>2. What makes you happy?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>You do, Mama </i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>3. What is your favorite animal?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>My cow, Herbie. (he has an imaginary pet cow)</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>4. What is your favorite thing to eat?</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span">McDonald's Fruit Salad</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div>5. What is your least favorite thing to eat?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Boogers</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>6. What is your favorite thing to do?</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Exercise and Eat </span></i> </div><div><br /></div><div>7. What is your favorite TV show?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Peppa Pig </span><span class="Apple-style-span">(Peppa is a British pig. Elek now asks for pounds intsead of dollars, calls me mummy on occasion, and told me to turn on the telly.)</span></div><div><br /></div><div>8. What are you really good at?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Building towers with my blocks.</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>9. What is your favorite movie?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>10. What is your favorite song?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>ABC's and Jesus Loves Me</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>11. What is your favorite color?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Red</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>12. Who is your best friend?</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Xavier</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div>13. What do you and mom do together?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Clean up my mess. </span> (I think I do the majority of the cleaning up, he pretty much only makes the mess.)</div><div><br /></div><div>14. What do you and dad do together?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Wash clothes</i></span> (Michael does help with the laundry often)<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>15. What is your favorite sport?</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Skateboarding (his brother may be a slight influence)</span></i><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>16. Where is your favorite place to go?</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span">The corn maze</span></i> (he has never been to a corn maze, but has been bugging to go for several days. he wants to run around it "like a mouse".)</div><div><br /></div><div>17. What is your favorite book?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Little Red Riding Hood</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>18. What do you want to be when you grow up?</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span">A chef</span></i></div>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-82130320320758025502011-09-27T09:56:00.002-04:002011-09-27T09:57:44.166-04:00Update from Carrie, Mandy Grace's Mom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmu-vKJy2wz4j_Wk0kZvC0YHL63QdaF4mA9JvKpkemb4U0pbU9bYZZbsXW-nJxBXeDldi8UUpd4LzgU_ljYFvBzkPyEytSvIVI3L5qe8WfWPMty28vfqyEFvDe4bhvcTYy2B5fRxWcI3e5/s1600/mandy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmu-vKJy2wz4j_Wk0kZvC0YHL63QdaF4mA9JvKpkemb4U0pbU9bYZZbsXW-nJxBXeDldi8UUpd4LzgU_ljYFvBzkPyEytSvIVI3L5qe8WfWPMty28vfqyEFvDe4bhvcTYy2B5fRxWcI3e5/s400/mandy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657038017301955442" /></a><br />Praise the Lord Day 8 has arrived and we are all still in good spirits! Baby was cold last night and gave me a scare but this morning warm, cuddly and eating! We met our hospice nurse for the first time yesterday. Mandy was all dolled up bow and all. Lungs were clear of fluid and she looked good! Mat 21:22 — And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive....Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-37401464599780766502011-09-26T07:58:00.004-04:002011-09-26T10:50:35.467-04:00Mandy Grace<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi08Hzg__IMY9VNCAc_LrzFOQbOizZiI44DuEy6gRf-MWLXFkFevsfR5I8B_YbvMQaY1v35-z5PtkZDjJgLcnB2QF_8bu1_s4yUih_Ql3WgLhror1C4kbT1BKSMJPXVzRHltKcZqPBKu9Z3/s1600/Mandy+Grace.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi08Hzg__IMY9VNCAc_LrzFOQbOizZiI44DuEy6gRf-MWLXFkFevsfR5I8B_YbvMQaY1v35-z5PtkZDjJgLcnB2QF_8bu1_s4yUih_Ql3WgLhror1C4kbT1BKSMJPXVzRHltKcZqPBKu9Z3/s400/Mandy+Grace.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656636675313704690" /></a><br /><br />Was reminded this morning how truly blessed I am. My heart is broken to learn of my friend, Carrie, had her sweet baby girl, Mandy Grace...she was born with trisomy 18 which doesn't have a very long life span...usually 10 days. Right now they are at home enjoying each day with their miracle....Please, please, keep them in your prayers and that they have many days with her.Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-13368911223749342362011-09-08T20:45:00.003-04:002011-09-08T20:48:21.286-04:00My New Favorite Quote"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. <br />Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow. <br />She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book. <br />Buy her another cup of coffee. <br />Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice. <br />It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by God, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does. <br />She has to give it a shot somehow. <br />Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world. <br />Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two. <br />Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series. <br />If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are. <br />You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype. <br />You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots. <br />Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads. <br />Or better yet, date a girl who writes." --Rosemary UrquicoKellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-20518085793894018352011-09-08T09:08:00.003-04:002011-09-08T09:18:16.990-04:00Pinspiration - WordySo I'm totally addicted to the site<a href="http://pinterest.com"> Pinterest</a>. It's one of my FAVORITE places to find inspiration. Thought today I'd post a few things I've "pinned" and maybe it will inspire you. If you have never heard of Pinterest before - you don't know what you're missing! Let me know and I can send you an invite and you can start pinning goodies, too!<br /><br />Today I'm posting some word art that I love.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiT3yq_S8vjqTUbrZxRRJdThVPnGkomyTBse578_3M85HwBwC0pEjTAvNDvWW5k5Iq6FLmnGs9gsSS_lvB0cuKRV6gG89jgMVuYYNUtd8ascSU053TVQKEOOorbqhErBvg4gOllEGVSSTQ/s1600/116515132_pbCqgyVx_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiT3yq_S8vjqTUbrZxRRJdThVPnGkomyTBse578_3M85HwBwC0pEjTAvNDvWW5k5Iq6FLmnGs9gsSS_lvB0cuKRV6gG89jgMVuYYNUtd8ascSU053TVQKEOOorbqhErBvg4gOllEGVSSTQ/s400/116515132_pbCqgyVx_b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649976790131021122" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHtC9ny9TeoQ_Y0yecaCnGe2M2CIy8TuQexg87JgPEOJgyVhVdE-TIujTI3IbOj4hJfJeMARQYx-lHF22r-MsVjgpfPdfm6t1Durxw2y9JtlaOaNNxLnZrC_el36lba9ftSlhB_tHMFVl/s1600/131707991_Wh4D3T1O_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 64px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHtC9ny9TeoQ_Y0yecaCnGe2M2CIy8TuQexg87JgPEOJgyVhVdE-TIujTI3IbOj4hJfJeMARQYx-lHF22r-MsVjgpfPdfm6t1Durxw2y9JtlaOaNNxLnZrC_el36lba9ftSlhB_tHMFVl/s400/131707991_Wh4D3T1O_b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649976782091214034" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1mM9nQwrfi43aV0ncbINck-cBd9GG7o_2VM-tiq9GoPrPT-XJIbLXA1T_sT_G-QuDYTtaAPxTHR2FdTW_GuLRoPPewWS9_48ZFuLTu2h567llG2L11r7LsdWiyW0mZWbcOAuaHzyPlP6J/s1600/171193100_DqFhoM4g_c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1mM9nQwrfi43aV0ncbINck-cBd9GG7o_2VM-tiq9GoPrPT-XJIbLXA1T_sT_G-QuDYTtaAPxTHR2FdTW_GuLRoPPewWS9_48ZFuLTu2h567llG2L11r7LsdWiyW0mZWbcOAuaHzyPlP6J/s400/171193100_DqFhoM4g_c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649976776963836082" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqrkeN61hkHwtuWNwS2b1MXykLU3gawZPnCHHxWQRYxpk-nka0qsL15O_qCicynwkQmUR3GxkVHyPCq4a-H5pYKQ1GAzsfZXAqmrN6lAez70hf-LLkDGxeDbc5zn8Ng6D1D7BP9lkTW9z/s1600/il_fullxfull_175700695.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqrkeN61hkHwtuWNwS2b1MXykLU3gawZPnCHHxWQRYxpk-nka0qsL15O_qCicynwkQmUR3GxkVHyPCq4a-H5pYKQ1GAzsfZXAqmrN6lAez70hf-LLkDGxeDbc5zn8Ng6D1D7BP9lkTW9z/s400/il_fullxfull_175700695.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649976774127864530" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh-YHOBZp_H8WcuASPgEw63HCaNyP9fCwYfb8SqJBGyQpD9Kfhlf7YxhhCx_HFR6OUk_0ybkEzIMmWm9sKHh7SpIIHXBCA42vLbBoUSucpFno6kDh8QBw2WgVKNthFGgOT9tCIRf6CRBnS/s1600/lovegrows.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh-YHOBZp_H8WcuASPgEw63HCaNyP9fCwYfb8SqJBGyQpD9Kfhlf7YxhhCx_HFR6OUk_0ybkEzIMmWm9sKHh7SpIIHXBCA42vLbBoUSucpFno6kDh8QBw2WgVKNthFGgOT9tCIRf6CRBnS/s400/lovegrows.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649976763399926706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD41z8yYUdyi8hbqdW4K0TYfw7FX1XR0GwLAmdMW08J-5DA0QGDegVOzCpAXGcaFLj5qobDTaNIacqtVnKU35r1MsTX-qZOHQkLEZBDaBxi05uzRfV16UA4-Z90GY-du3u0YQqZ-cIoSET/s1600/31341936_eUD693U0_c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD41z8yYUdyi8hbqdW4K0TYfw7FX1XR0GwLAmdMW08J-5DA0QGDegVOzCpAXGcaFLj5qobDTaNIacqtVnKU35r1MsTX-qZOHQkLEZBDaBxi05uzRfV16UA4-Z90GY-du3u0YQqZ-cIoSET/s400/31341936_eUD693U0_c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649977267676845090" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-w88G279NY7zxGe-cfqWFKBZkH1HsYgf0jWD-74m1ZjGXWErTf7CQWxHk_Gpl2EhA_5__wz2w0OQZMkmPtR0o8k1c2BPl1xllhy5tIGlnImuXZUMxZ-CORHGOh5sQENwoV7yRcQj4PTi/s1600/91119719_B6DyXESP_c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-w88G279NY7zxGe-cfqWFKBZkH1HsYgf0jWD-74m1ZjGXWErTf7CQWxHk_Gpl2EhA_5__wz2w0OQZMkmPtR0o8k1c2BPl1xllhy5tIGlnImuXZUMxZ-CORHGOh5sQENwoV7yRcQj4PTi/s400/91119719_B6DyXESP_c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649977256421273602" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHk2gDRWr7xPlb7b1_Ormb9-aG7pq390HgbXGB4vnqAV1l-XodrJ7PBHt1CqKXt2iBVhsj3ZrqQAOavUeBx-Sk9XGSMmjCE8UgYVizF57N1Nnp8m-aD8KuH_O7n153gAQrQS9KwGjaLol/s1600/166195100_UTkGx9yM_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHk2gDRWr7xPlb7b1_Ormb9-aG7pq390HgbXGB4vnqAV1l-XodrJ7PBHt1CqKXt2iBVhsj3ZrqQAOavUeBx-Sk9XGSMmjCE8UgYVizF57N1Nnp8m-aD8KuH_O7n153gAQrQS9KwGjaLol/s400/166195100_UTkGx9yM_b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649977252113775778" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpT4-2Yf28a7cf6AATENp4QRwfz_ssj_GLOAHGRD9CVS1NrD2Oo76-XzSRAH6tanKjiHoNPS0SPJhyqsftWio8xe3oq6Uy2yCNyCe3SwRvgpJfSnpQMyJSogIQFkCGWZPIyn-gGFMF5chB/s1600/103455311_6O4boByf_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpT4-2Yf28a7cf6AATENp4QRwfz_ssj_GLOAHGRD9CVS1NrD2Oo76-XzSRAH6tanKjiHoNPS0SPJhyqsftWio8xe3oq6Uy2yCNyCe3SwRvgpJfSnpQMyJSogIQFkCGWZPIyn-gGFMF5chB/s400/103455311_6O4boByf_b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649977242958197522" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lZAmHaFgx3abfSCtX1PZVfm9EhPJp-0p6nuf53Sknodt5Movb3HuNe64yZjf1hnPyW6EdKGGjlb0Osl7o381rsA8Ou8HEZ3mQHGe_CI4ncVnCfLChmr6Z8j6mDelb4vPDsWsj4WVHG6B/s1600/109388474_OwUZWK1B_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lZAmHaFgx3abfSCtX1PZVfm9EhPJp-0p6nuf53Sknodt5Movb3HuNe64yZjf1hnPyW6EdKGGjlb0Osl7o381rsA8Ou8HEZ3mQHGe_CI4ncVnCfLChmr6Z8j6mDelb4vPDsWsj4WVHG6B/s400/109388474_OwUZWK1B_b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649977238540473442" /></a>Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-62761932955833560292011-08-29T16:23:00.001-04:002011-08-29T16:25:17.082-04:00Break the wrist and walk away.Do you remember that line from Napoleon Dynamite? I say it in my head every time I spend large amounts of time with my teenager. Every teenager has crazy good, if quite absurd, argumentative skills. They can walk you up and down, back and forth, till your dizzy in your head, with their theories, reasoning, evidence and debates. "Break the wrist and walk away," I tell myself. Which doesn't really involve any breakage of any wrists, just a quick cut and run. State your point (the wrist) and walk away. If you argue back, you might as well sit and get comfortable because it's going to be a long one. There is nothing like, "Because I said so", that terribly frustrating line we all said we'd never utter after hearing it ourselves years and years ago, but now come to learn it's the oasis in the middle of the stormy shore of adolescent.
<br />Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2400259896182764138.post-71194774565423129842011-08-15T11:40:00.005-04:002011-08-15T11:46:35.672-04:00Monday MusingsWhat's with Mick Jagger lately?
<br />Not Mick himself, but other song writers,
<br />writing about Mick Jagger. Weird.
<br />
<br />
<br />I first noticed this in 2009's MUSH
<br />(aka Mandatory Ubiquitous Summer Hit) Tik Tok by Ke$ha.
<br />
<br />
<br />And now, the dudes are lining up
<br />'Cause they hear we got swagger
<br />But we kick em to the curb
<br />Unless they look like Mick Jagger
<br />
<br />
<br />I remember thinking....
<br />"Hey Ke$ha. You DO know what Mick Jagger looks like...right?
<br />No? Here's the object of your desire..."
<br />
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGY6oTFxU5xnVU-2bW3bLK84PUL0EJQyp0Ha4lYPtTZGKR85KSwMSuPek2AtpXO7jcHXNqLsA-cVXeOxn72NKytE5zy-L3_u21h1uKZqecsH0HcuKz0e0tSofT7KyDYB1uQvbs72tU-nEi/s1600/mick_jagger_lead_narrowweb__300x4310.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGY6oTFxU5xnVU-2bW3bLK84PUL0EJQyp0Ha4lYPtTZGKR85KSwMSuPek2AtpXO7jcHXNqLsA-cVXeOxn72NKytE5zy-L3_u21h1uKZqecsH0HcuKz0e0tSofT7KyDYB1uQvbs72tU-nEi/s400/mick_jagger_lead_narrowweb__300x4310.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641108304219132386" /></a>
<br />
<br />
<br />I know, I know....That's not fair! Post a picture of Mick in his PRIME!
<br />Okay...
<br />
<br />
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUiWLelNwgzkUCIIfmIUFtw5KlyppGr2LjM7ENRZpbQSyEeEHjKV7farHnr2NulcbUh8AR8ace7AB_woRO9FSnm7F2TERD5DGAIUG1zTwhe_RbClwyKB0Lticids6U3W4NjZxCWkETexu3/s1600/600full-mick-jagger.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 384px; height: 384px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUiWLelNwgzkUCIIfmIUFtw5KlyppGr2LjM7ENRZpbQSyEeEHjKV7farHnr2NulcbUh8AR8ace7AB_woRO9FSnm7F2TERD5DGAIUG1zTwhe_RbClwyKB0Lticids6U3W4NjZxCWkETexu3/s400/600full-mick-jagger.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641108646859617074" /></a>
<br />
<br />
<br />Yeah...still not good.
<br />
<br />
<br />But then...it struck again!
<br />Imagine the humiliation of copying lyrics from the likes of Ke$ha...
<br />her name has a dollar sign in it.
<br />{shudder}
<br />
<br />
<br />From The Time by Black Eyed Peas
<br />
<br />
<br />All-all these girls, they like my swagger
<br />They callin’ me Mick Jagger
<br />I be rollin’ like a Stone
<br />Jet-setter, jet-lagger
<br />
<br />
<br />Is it possible they used it more stupidly than Ke$ha? Yep.
<br />
<br />
<br />And NOW...the most baffling of all.
<br />An entire song about Mick Jagger by Adam Levine
<br />(of Maroon 5 and "super-hot guy" fame)
<br />
<br />Don't need to try to control you
<br />Look into my eyes and I'll own you
<br />With them moves like jagger
<br />I've got the moves like jagger
<br />I've got the moves like jagger
<br />
<br />
<br />I'm just sayin'. It's a weird trend.
<br />Kellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02027140546224517699noreply@blogger.com3