tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32486039131246653692024-03-13T03:34:21.949-04:00Pearls & BootsAnne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-29793599187851842592012-05-14T16:44:00.001-04:002012-05-14T16:44:03.970-04:00A Thousand Years....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrC31GR1Qx-qLckldXRho1_aIR5xQsZnKpjjO4S6QN2V4v8FY13qZ3zFp3ruLO7ppqTGs4me2ULhcLbjI6sI9a6SbtvqPdPpXAF77B7XXRck_YMor6S13zWVSIXUuLuABol8WE8Fqi/s1600/Jolie+5+Months.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrC31GR1Qx-qLckldXRho1_aIR5xQsZnKpjjO4S6QN2V4v8FY13qZ3zFp3ruLO7ppqTGs4me2ULhcLbjI6sI9a6SbtvqPdPpXAF77B7XXRck_YMor6S13zWVSIXUuLuABol8WE8Fqi/s320/Jolie+5+Months.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
Dear Joliet, <br />
<br />
You turned five months old on April 19th. Month 5 was a fun month. You have been discovering wonderful things, and we love love love to watch you do it. You are mobile! You started rolling over, and you've gotten very good at rolling from your belly to your back. You scoot around a lot now too. We definitely can't leave you alone on the bed anymore. You are also drooling and blowing raspberries! Sometimes daddy and I need a poncho because you cover everything within 10 feet of your mouth with slobber and bubbles. It's wonderful. You haven't started really teething yet, but with the amount of drool that you like to save up and then spit all over the place, it can't be long now before teethies start appearing. You also started eating cereal this month. And you LOVE it. Love it. I added prunes to it, and it gets messy (<span style="font-size: xx-small;">it looks like you are eating poop. ew.</span>). You like to help me feed you by grabbing the spoon and putting cereal everywhere but your mouth. In your hair, up your nose, in your ears, under your neck... you know, all the good places. Then you get mad as a hornet when I have to clean you up. <br />
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You are also well on your way to talking. No real words yet, of course, but you do "mmmm....mmmm" a lot. I think you like how your lips vibrate when you say it. So cute. And of course, it won't hurt my feelings one bit if you say "mama" first!<br />
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When we carry you around, you always stick your arms and hands out like you are getting ready to grab something. Mommy's hair, daddy's chin, the wind, life... who knows?<br />
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Sometimes I look at you and my heart simply feels like it is going to burst with love. It's so overwhelming that I have to look away. <br />
Sweet Jolie-bird, you were in my dreams long before you were ever here. I waited my whole life to meet you. You are my love, and joy, and complete happiness. There is a song, that is a love song, describing a girls love for a boy. It describes my love for you. <br />
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<b>A Thousand Years</b><br />
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<span class="line line-s" id="line_12"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="156">"I have died every day</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_13"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="156">waiting for you</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_14"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="156">Darlin' don't be afraid</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_15"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="156">I have loved you for a</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_16"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="156">Thousand years</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_17"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="156">I'll love you for a </i></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_18"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="156">Thousand more</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s" id="line_20">Time stands still </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_21">beauty in all she is</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_22">I will be brave</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_23">I will not let anything </span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_24">Take away</span><br />
<span class="line line-s hover"></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_25">What's standing in front of me</span><br />
<span class="line line-s hover"></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_26"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="158">Every breath, </i></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_27"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="158">Every hour has come to this</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s" id="line_28">One step closer</span><br />
<span class="line line-s" id="line_30">I have died every day</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_32">Waiting for you</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_33">Darlin' don't be afraid</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_34">I have loved you for a </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_35">Thousand years</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_36">I'll love you for a </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_37">Thousand more.</span><br />
<span class="line line-s" id="line_38"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="160">And all along I believed </i></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_39"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="160">I would find you</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_40"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="160">Time has brought </i></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_41"><i class="smline sm" data-meaningid="160">Your heart to me</i></span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_42">I have loved you for a </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_43">Thousand years</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_44">I'll love you for a</span><span class="line line-s" id="line_45"> Thousand more</span><br />
<span class="line line-s" id="line_46">One step closer, </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_47">One step closer</span><br />
<span class="line line-s" id="line_49"></span><br />
<span class="line line-s">I have died everyday </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_50">Waiting for you</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_51">Darlin' don't be afraid,</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_52">I have loved you for a </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_53">Thousand years</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_54">I'll love you for a </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_55">Thousand more</span><br />
<span class="line line-s" id="line_56">And all along I believed </span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_57">I would find you</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><span class="line line-s" id="line_58">Time has brought </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_59">Your heart to me</span><br />
<span class="line line-s"></span><i><b><u><span class="line line-s" id="line_60">I have loved you for a </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_61">Thousand years,</span></u></b></i><br />
<i><b><u><span class="line line-s" id="line_62">I'll love you for a </span><span class="line line-s" id="line_63">Thousand more. "</span><span class="line line-s" id="line_63"> </span></u></b></i><br />
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Thousands upon thousands of years I will love you dear Joliet.</div>
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Love Mommy.<br /><br /></div>
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<br /></div>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-4540542454036033262012-04-24T22:17:00.002-04:002012-04-24T22:17:11.943-04:00Dear Joliet, Month 4.So I've had this letter written in my head since March 19th, but just now getting it down on paper...er, blogger. Between being a full time mom, full time wife, full time employee outside of the home, full time cook, housekeeper, launderer, etc.... (I say full time, there was many a night where Jason went to bed hungry I'm sure, I was too tired to notice that I hadn't eaten), while also trying to start up two businesses from home. One a photography business, and one a stationary business. My plate is FULL, I tell you. f.u.l.l. That's why I'm just now writing this letter to Jolie. Although, month 4 will be a month that will never ever ever be forgotten by anyone who lived within ear shot of our home or who is listed in my recent calls list on my cell phone.<br />
Month 4 with Jolie was the hardest month of my entire.<span style="font-size: xx-small;">entire</span>.<span style="font-size: x-large;">ENTIRE</span>. life. <br />
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Dear Joliet,<br />
Whoa baby. Let me just put this out there.... again, since it's been awhile since I've written it out, and I never want you to forget it. You are the light of lives. Our hearts didn't know true love until we saw your face. We find joy just watching you discover your world. Your smiles, your coos, your laughter, your tears. We love it all. Life is so much better with you in it.<br />
But my Lord did you give us some grey hairs during the fourth month of your life. The first three months you were a baby. Doing what babies do. Sleep, eat, cry, spit up, poop, pee, repeat. You did more than your fair share of projectile vomiting, and crying, but it was okay. You are a baby. Babies cry. Over the weeks it got worse. A lot worse. You cried from the time I picked you up in the afternoons, through the evening, until we put you to bed. It wasn't a frantic cry... yet. I took you to the doctor on a Tuesday, and told them that you cried. a lot. They took one look at your head cocked back while you napped, and immediately diagnosed you as a "classic reflux baby". They prescribed zantac, said "that should do it!", patted me on the back a little, and sent us home. You got worse. Your daddy and I went a little crazy, and I got an ulcer, and new crowsfeet. I'm sure you gave your mamaw a few grey hairs as well. "Mamaw Nita" is our neighbor who watches Jolie during the day, and I swear she is an angel in disguise. I spent hours on the phone with your grandmommy crying, cussing, and just generally bemoaning the fact that my poor little baby was miserable pretty much morning, noon, and night. I wondered how the crying could get worse. Was sure it couldn't get worse. We took you back to the doctor on a Friday, they prescribed prevacid. It got worse. It got so so worse. You no longer cried. You screeched. You screamed. You arched your back, and your tummy got hard as a rock and you howled so loud the dogs hid in the corner with their heads tucked into their sides. I wanted to join them. We felt so horrible. You were pitiful. Morning, noon, and night. For two weeks you no longer napped. You passed out from the fatigue of screaming so long and so loud. You screamed so loud and so long that your voice got hoarse. You would open your mouth to scream and no noise would come out. You wouldn't nurse, you wouldn't take a paci, you would only eat when you were so hungry that you <em>had</em> to. You were miserable. And we were miserable because we couldn't fix it. It wasn't reflux. I mean, it was reflux, but it wasn't only reflux. It was colic. Whatever that is. You had it. We tried everything. I stopped eating everything, but bread and water. We tried formula. We tried medicine that worked like a muscle relaxer (to try to ease the stomach cramps). We tried baths, and baby massages, and rice cereal in your bottle. We put you in the car, we put you on the dryer, we put you in the swing, we carried you around all day, every day. Nothing worked. We were burned out. Literally at the end of our pitifully fraying ropes. Finally, we just decided to take you off all the medicine, because it obviously wasn't working, and we didn't like the idea of you taking it anyway. That was a Monday. You got better. Not all at once. But one day soon after we woke up, lived our day, and went to bed that night, and you were a baby again. Not a demon child. I say that with tongue in cheek, because it wasn't your fault that you were hurting, and miserable, but it really truly seemed like you were possessed. It was that bad. We fully expected your head to spin around on your neck at times. You started to smile again. You started to grab things, and recognize me and daddy when we came in the room. You would hear our voices and look around till you found us. You started to grow and thrive again, and we started watching you again, and enjoying loving on you and living with you again not just existing and trying to stay sane. Never for a moment did we stop loving you, but those were two very long, very gut wrentchingly exhausting weeks. And then they were over, and I sit here now typing out the words, and it seems so distant, like it might not have even really happened at all. <br />
<br />
Through all that, there were little changes as well. Your thick, dark hair started falling out a little. You plumped up a lot! Your little thighs filled out, and you have chunky little wrists and still have your snuggly little double chin. Your blue eyes turned dark grey, and then got a little brown in them. And you love, love, love to be outside. I think you would stay outside watching the clouds move across the sky, and wind blow through the trees all day long and never get tired of it. We are so happy that you are happy.<br />
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4 Months little birdie. We love you every second.<br />
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Love Always,<br />
Mommy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-jnCqDOLMiop9_NuwC7-KKBaEs0-1IQEcQdogGlYhT8QoEhadOIo8Dyg2sWlR2kOQ9dl56Dso9r5ItbxWXDiDoNvRBAtT20OE3AaD512UW-IK5mq7Hsa0d1KAlqbfsetupg_qnaq/s1600/485800_10101212197807720_4927307_67012793_1265300547_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-jnCqDOLMiop9_NuwC7-KKBaEs0-1IQEcQdogGlYhT8QoEhadOIo8Dyg2sWlR2kOQ9dl56Dso9r5ItbxWXDiDoNvRBAtT20OE3AaD512UW-IK5mq7Hsa0d1KAlqbfsetupg_qnaq/s320/485800_10101212197807720_4927307_67012793_1265300547_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-68354711818409856292012-03-01T09:47:00.008-05:002012-03-01T11:28:51.642-05:00Dear Joliet Parker - Month 3<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GfP9IqfFaxmuB8M2UkmIpJRZS-Qvj0yDKMQ7kcHmDS6E9mfx8gFshQGRwsD8ZRjYqWU3MiY2i8bpt-2P9z9d3HgRG31ilbTy3DY8q7iW2cbreOA2T9HImZ4ccLqnPtfZhfrTtsoF/s1600/65447_10101126396324580_4927307_66563019_1944419220_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GfP9IqfFaxmuB8M2UkmIpJRZS-Qvj0yDKMQ7kcHmDS6E9mfx8gFshQGRwsD8ZRjYqWU3MiY2i8bpt-2P9z9d3HgRG31ilbTy3DY8q7iW2cbreOA2T9HImZ4ccLqnPtfZhfrTtsoF/s320/65447_10101126396324580_4927307_66563019_1944419220_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714964229306042274" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Joliet,<br /> You turned 3 months old on February 19th. Little lady, what gives? You are three months old and people swore to me that by three months you would be sleeping through the night, colic would be gone, and you'd be talking, walking, and potty trained... well, maybe not those last three, which is okay, because we don't want you growing up too quickly anyway!<br /><br /> It seems like the DAY you hit 3 months you revved up big time in the colic department. Now instead of just having meltdowns in the afternoon and evenings, you have them in the morning too. Good thing Mimaw Nita loves you like we do, or she might just tell mommy and daddy that Mr. Butler can watch you while mommy's at work, she can't do it anymore. But she keeps letting me bring you back every morning, so Amen for that!<br /><br /> This month you had your first bout of constipation which was almost as painful for mommy as it was for you. You cried for 2 days, and I finally called the doctor and they said bring you on in because they could tell over the phone that my hair was standing on end because you were screaming so loudly. We got you something that worked like a charm and after about 1 hour of almost constant pooping, you grinned nonstop for the rest of the night. And then geared back up for a full day of screaming your head off with daddy.<br /><br /> You also had your first real cold, and then you gave it to mommy and we were both miserable for about a week. We coughed and hacked, and had runny noses and no sleep. We cried a lot together that week. It was rough, but nothing serious and we bounced back once it moved on down the road.<br /><br /> This month you began to hold your head up for longer periods of time when mommy or daddy holds you, and you sit up pretty well when you're supported by pillows. One morning while I was getting ready for work you started whimpering and grunting and I walked back in the room and you were laying sideways and cockeyed, where had slid down and sideways and were looking at me out of the corner of your eye with an "are you kidding me? help me out here lady" look on your face. So, you're not there yet, but pretty soon, you'll be doing it all on your own.<br /><br />You are talking a lot more. Cooing and blowing bubbles, and being a regular old chatty cathy. You haven't said "mommy you're my favorite" yet, but I can tell you are getting close.<br /><br />You've also started reaching and grabbing for things. It's so cute to hold something out and see you swing your arms around in circles getting closer and closer to whatever I'm holding until you surprise yourself by actually grabbing it.<br /><br />You are growing like a stinkin' weed and mommy and daddy have a feeling you are going to be tall. Mommy still puts you in your 3 month onesies, and you look like you are going to blow out the feet of them any moment.<br /><br />You've also started drooling a lot which is a sign that teething may be just around the corner. With the spitting up and the drool, you and whoever(whomever? that one always trips mommy up!) is holding you goes through a lot of shirts during the day!<br /><br /> When you are starting to get fussy we can generally put you on the changing table and for whatever reason you will calm down, and start talking. I love snuggling you under your chin and blowing hard on your tummy. Your eyes get big like you have no idea what is going on, but you like it. Unless you don't and then you just get mad and scream, and mommy goes and sits in the corner, holds her knees, and rocks back and forth like a crazy lady. just kidding. maybe.<br /><br /> We've been taking you to church a lot lately, and you stay with us the whole time. Most Sundays you do well. Sometimes you sleep almost through the whole service, and mommy and daddy just smile and nod, and cut eyes at each other when people say, "Oh, what a good baby!". Other times you open your mouth and we can tell you're about to lose it, so Daddy jumps up with you like his britches just caught fire and heads outside before the whole place comes crashing down around us with your intense scream.<br /><br /> Some days it seems like you have been around for ever. Other days we look at you in wonder and just can't believe you're here. It's been 3 months, and for the life of me I can't remember what I did before you were born. Oh wait, it just came to me... sleep. I slept a lot before you were born. Some Saturdays the only decision mommy would have to make is how long to lay around on the couch before getting up and going back to bed for a nap. I don't sleep anymore. Haven't really since the day we brought you home, but that's okay. You're totally worth it. That crazy mommy with the dark circles, and bags, and new wrinkles, and oily hair, and well, you get it.... <span style="font-style: italic;">that </span>mommy loves you like she's never loved anything before in her life.<br /><br />Just in case we don't say it enough (though I think we say it a million times a day), we love you, we love you, we love you. If you are never sure about anything else in your life, you can be certain of that. Through the good, through the bad, through the long days, the even longer nights, the screaming fits, the feeling of "what am I doing wrong", all the moments, of all the days, of all our lives, we love you.<br /><br /> You are a whirlwind in a tiny body J-bird, and if this is any indication of the woman you are going to become, I do believe you will move mountains.<br /><br />Happy 3 months Baby Girl.<br />MommyAnne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-40665444143528220552012-02-15T09:57:00.025-05:002012-02-15T12:07:12.035-05:00What I ♥...<div style="text-align: center;">i love her.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrR5YmB03JUGSAdjB6Qu0Xt9ZuRk4Yi585vFFOxRRkr1-Ulol2we4KvW4RZMxvAQwXzwIoKS3foWCyjzZ-oOXEBsm-wGd9t1tEv2KV2-086jOrI8qaLBD9czEQoiL8qy3YFyo_xsO/s1600/377448_10100961735047100_4927307_65910093_1507272658_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrR5YmB03JUGSAdjB6Qu0Xt9ZuRk4Yi585vFFOxRRkr1-Ulol2we4KvW4RZMxvAQwXzwIoKS3foWCyjzZ-oOXEBsm-wGd9t1tEv2KV2-086jOrI8qaLBD9czEQoiL8qy3YFyo_xsO/s320/377448_10100961735047100_4927307_65910093_1507272658_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709397085132806290" border="0" /></a><br />i love them.<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDDRbF5CtnlZGGZFmpPUphkvEOzK3RUTpC6P4G8nMg7ptYpEBvA58fPcY2dUB51nbwGIOyP9Ie-Av9LQHIn56U3HBYgPsB6Fk_6X4nVE-VUMxGrmZYU1mIQvE8iu-UiJQZkauGe4V/s1600/409081_10100961819767320_4927307_65910640_936966826_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDDRbF5CtnlZGGZFmpPUphkvEOzK3RUTpC6P4G8nMg7ptYpEBvA58fPcY2dUB51nbwGIOyP9Ie-Av9LQHIn56U3HBYgPsB6Fk_6X4nVE-VUMxGrmZYU1mIQvE8iu-UiJQZkauGe4V/s320/409081_10100961819767320_4927307_65910640_936966826_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709397462769014098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">and him<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRx7X82zZecxUpedu_DddsS_PQjo9kBTuyoKzizer4fjcsKlcfjZgW_nMfzoBq2G4jHmKquSGpdRDbFgQtyFNqGYOANYCEz9haza4n_QhK8B-HoKge8vNxbdw4KMo-aXJ6mWidqse/s1600/11442_859670675960_4927307_52225017_6892554_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRx7X82zZecxUpedu_DddsS_PQjo9kBTuyoKzizer4fjcsKlcfjZgW_nMfzoBq2G4jHmKquSGpdRDbFgQtyFNqGYOANYCEz9haza4n_QhK8B-HoKge8vNxbdw4KMo-aXJ6mWidqse/s320/11442_859670675960_4927307_52225017_6892554_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709400657954489202" border="0" /></a><br />and them too.<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzmbksCSg4ab73SmTUAK2eXg68WiuwNWO3FaxV3cXp858jdGV866sDmo_wiGYk09Nah0qK4150Agk6I01l3R2Txe4-HPYFWAhIrAZ1QNbmlRLeeiXZDuBVVm8msZW9X9LBxxNyZKh/s1600/11442_859696244720_4927307_52226165_1550958_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzmbksCSg4ab73SmTUAK2eXg68WiuwNWO3FaxV3cXp858jdGV866sDmo_wiGYk09Nah0qK4150Agk6I01l3R2Txe4-HPYFWAhIrAZ1QNbmlRLeeiXZDuBVVm8msZW9X9LBxxNyZKh/s320/11442_859696244720_4927307_52226165_1550958_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709400660515946578" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">i love here.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvpue0IWF8blmSlkakZ75HvLIS9ml26gN0taysrw2rSPpIq0y75YE6Jj45OLel6riCIFug2fLkqMLSCVr4jQ2Ku82k3gdA44kNQ5CP6o8hNF-MTfyt3z2ATgNcU2gfNOqQ-nrXqKL/s1600/407478_10100961951333660_4927307_65911481_1635020056_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvpue0IWF8blmSlkakZ75HvLIS9ml26gN0taysrw2rSPpIq0y75YE6Jj45OLel6riCIFug2fLkqMLSCVr4jQ2Ku82k3gdA44kNQ5CP6o8hNF-MTfyt3z2ATgNcU2gfNOqQ-nrXqKL/s320/407478_10100961951333660_4927307_65911481_1635020056_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709399998433201586" border="0" /></a><br />and here<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIEZyPpiRlBpyPUMR-FApw5eAM_qeMqV58vJhjnWhpOwmNqS7gZD2IzRkK2CC3v-fcGnz-xQmWKEDD_E_u2oVzF6crw0Yt3Sh6k0kntk-il_kdrXWZipxBcrWVufCpsX3o5pZfh1C7/s1600/18638_893629876450_4927307_53419601_3841098_n.jpg"><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/AVvXsEhIEZyPpiRlBpyPUMR-FApw5eAM_qeMqV58vJhjnWhpOwmNqS7gZD2IzRkK2CC3v-fcGnz-xQmWKEDD_E_u2oVzF6crw0Yt3Sh6k0kntk-il_kdrXWZipxBcrWVufCpsX3o5pZfh1C7/s320/18638_893629876450_4927307_53419601_3841098_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709400003804696146" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">i love this.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8TfwXhAVCf9fjNp7BrmH5lqdrsPRJ5UdFpqICsE-cBAvLgEpfG72vnQo9Kkv93VQrSTG_SkPW2TpLyHnHEM0tM80Ynuw_ME5dp2vCC_NWmWo6aJRwXxGHJUzliMH9uLkr2XiFjWUL/s1600/18538_868527641530_4927307_52518212_3694945_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8TfwXhAVCf9fjNp7BrmH5lqdrsPRJ5UdFpqICsE-cBAvLgEpfG72vnQo9Kkv93VQrSTG_SkPW2TpLyHnHEM0tM80Ynuw_ME5dp2vCC_NWmWo6aJRwXxGHJUzliMH9uLkr2XiFjWUL/s320/18538_868527641530_4927307_52518212_3694945_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709398784806121138" border="0" /></a><br />and that.<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9AyDDKPLom81Ims5YvRfQiie7il-tDI3E6FK0SlSvsiSBweRFkBpHCX4N5DiZo4NhZs_1j4V4lIbZQ4tEjbnzgJrhYFVW53CDkc60gsaP0oRvDa1pqlmJHMjH6jfeKfVP68-NR43/s1600/24702_922772309780_4927307_54488441_4725153_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9AyDDKPLom81Ims5YvRfQiie7il-tDI3E6FK0SlSvsiSBweRFkBpHCX4N5DiZo4NhZs_1j4V4lIbZQ4tEjbnzgJrhYFVW53CDkc60gsaP0oRvDa1pqlmJHMjH6jfeKfVP68-NR43/s320/24702_922772309780_4927307_54488441_4725153_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709398786809695090" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br />i love....<br /><br />being a mommy<br /><br />when big j gets up with little j at 5 o'clock on saturday mornings so i can sleep in<br /><br />that my daughter has slept 8 hours on 3 different occasions, <span style="font-size:78%;">not consecutively but that's still progress!</span><br /><br />that my mom seems to always know when i'm having a bad day, and calls to "check on" me without me having to call her first.<br /><br />that the honeymoon period of my marriage is over, but i am more in love with my husband today than i was the day i married him<br /><br />the way my dad knows how fix e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g<br /><br />when i let mr. butler out of his crate in the morning, he stretches out as wide as he can and then jumps up and hugs my leg<br /><br />the smell of lemon zest<br /><br />the inside jokes i share with my brother<br /><br />a good tube of mascara<br /><br />taking pretty pictures and making pretty papers<br /><br />the way my daddy says "you're so pretty, i love you so much" to my daughter<br /><br />a good book<br /><br />my mother's hands<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">they are always soft as butter and cool to the touch</span><br /><br />mismatched antique silverware<br /><br />dancing around with jolie to motown music when she's having a meltdown<br /><br />old christian, gospel, & camp hymns/songs<br /><br />a long nap<br /><br />the smell of jolie's laundry<br /><br />the feeling i get when we pass over the causeway to the island<br /><br />hearing jolie and her daddy 'talk' to each other<br /><br />repeating 'i love jolie' over and over again and having her coo back at me each time<br /><br />telling jolie that she's smart, pretty, kind, loving, generous, patient, respectful, humble, grateful, all the words of traits that i want to instill in her as she grows.<br /><br />creme brulee<br /><br />the feeling of coming home i get when i walk through the door of the house in ssi<br /><br />the dual feeling of coming home i get when i walk through the door of our home every day<br /><br />pinning things on pinterest<br /><br />lewis grizzard<br /><br />when tiki-belle puts her paws up on the side of the bed and looks over the mattress with a hopeful look on her face asking to be let up on the bed<span style="font-size:78%;"> (works every time)</span><br /><br />lunch dates with my grandmother<br /><br />when i cook something that actually tastes good<br /><br />driving through emerson and seeing my uncle riding down the road on his lawn mower<br /><br />planning all the little and big things i/we want to do to the house<br /><br />singing along with adele and <span style="font-size:130%;"><code style="font-family: times new roman;" id="strikethroughResult">k̶n̶o̶w̶i̶n̶g̶</code> </span>thinking i sound exactly like her.<br /><br />researching my family history<br /><br />looking up words in a thesaurus<br /><br />play dates for mommy<br /><br />when all the laundry is finished and put away <span style="font-size:78%;">(until j gets home) </span><br /><br />that our neighbor/friend who watches jolie during the day loves her like a surrogate granddaughter<br /><br />the face jolie makes when she wakes up and stretches<br /><br />watching and laughing at 'how i met your mother'<br /><br />$1 sweet teas from McDonald's<br /><br />pronouncing McDonald's "Macdonalds" and driving Jason crazy in the process<br /><br />the way jolie's hair sticks up after her bath, nap, playtime, nursing, etc... and we nearly have to slick it down with spit to get it to stay down<br /><br />when jolie pokes her bottom lip out right before she starts whimpering. it's not a real cry, it's more of a 'feel sorry for me' look that is just so pitiful and funny at the same time<br /><br />myrtle street beach access<br /><br />puppy breath<br /><br />the fact that i lost all of my baby weight +some within 4 weeks of giving birth, that was 50 pounds people <span style="font-size:78%;">(i'm sure i'll gain a good bit back when i stop nursing!)</span><br /><br />when jason brings home fresh flowers<br /><br />air purifiers<br /><br />decorating on a shoestring budget and it turning out like i envisioned<br /><br />whimsically designed fabric patterns<br /><br />eclectic farmhouse style<br /><br />tufted furniture<br /><br />when jason wears a bow tie<br /><br />when jason wears wranglers and a pearl snap<br /><br />when jason wears.... well, you get it <span style="font-size:78%;">(he makes anything look good)</span><br /><br />mixing metals in my decor (gold, silver, pewter)<br /><br />cigarette pants<br /><br />being unexpectedly, but pleasantly surprised by life<br /><br />sunday sermons<br /><br />sunday dinners after church<br /><br />the way sweet pea gets excited when i go down to feed her<br /><br />sitting by the campfire on a crisp, cool evening as the sun goes down and comes back up <span style="font-size:78%;">(with a good night of sleep in between)</span><br /><br />the sounds of birds, and crickets, and squirrels running through the trees<br /><br />vintage tea cups and saucers<br /><br />fair food <span style="font-size:78%;"><br />(as in funnel cake, fried oreos, corndogs, etc... not impartial, equal food) ps. i got to look up <span style="font-style: italic;">fair </span>in the thesaurus. winning.</span><br /><br />claw foot tubs and farmhouse sinks<br /><br />bubblegum<br /><br />my husband's laugh<br /><br />jolie's funny faces<br /><br />vintage luggage<br /><br />i guess i can wrap it up here, although i could probably write a list a day on the things i love.<br /><br />i hope everyone had a very happy heart day!<br /><br />xo,<br />asm<br /><br />ps- i love my daughter.... can you tell?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-30230176205475123522012-01-20T10:43:00.020-05:002012-01-20T12:04:25.934-05:00Baby Mine - 2 Months<span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Jolie turned 2 months on Thursday, the 19th. Um, excuse me, but how did that happen? It was just last week that I was getting up at night every 2.5 minutes to go to the bathroom, fighting the acid reflux with giant bottles of tums, couldn't see my feet, or get in and out of the car without "heave ho-ing" myself out of my seat. Wasn't it? Actually, it's no wonder I have absolutely no sense of time these days. Everything just kind of runs together now. I guess that's what happens when said 2 month old wakes up to: eat, spit-up, 'talk' (</span><span style="font-size:100%;">ie. grunt, groan, blow bubbles)</span><span style="font-size:100%;">, poop, cry, play the stimulating game of 'put paci in, spit paci out', all.night.long. I'm back to work now, which adds an even more exciting element to the new mommy game. I pretty much stay in a state of moderate to severe delirium depending on the day. But I'm still trying to just take in every moment, because in the larger scheme of things, I know these days are fleeting, and one day I'll look back, and </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >really </span><span style="font-size:100%;">wonder where the time went.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;">wearing mommy's bonnet<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACxFdemrL6Sv7DVoc5lkZcS8_A_El3h7c3NCU4PFBfkC0Tat6e_J2889G-EDkeP_1Pwgs7gQx1QtCX5Iu6HPdzok1sWPVrB1vyv1YicerQo7v_nw2H-XX3SCM-G5nitlYqo1TannZ/s1600/395783_10101002352100200_4927307_66105080_495186413_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACxFdemrL6Sv7DVoc5lkZcS8_A_El3h7c3NCU4PFBfkC0Tat6e_J2889G-EDkeP_1Pwgs7gQx1QtCX5Iu6HPdzok1sWPVrB1vyv1YicerQo7v_nw2H-XX3SCM-G5nitlYqo1TannZ/s320/395783_10101002352100200_4927307_66105080_495186413_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699758040203805794" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br />Dear J-bird,<br /> You are two months old. And I didn't think it was possible, but daddy and I love you even more than we did the moment we first saw your precious face. Some things haven't changed in the past month, you still keep mommy up most of the night, and you still spit up, a.lot. Between you and your daddy, my pretty pink couch is pretty much ruined. Daddy likes to drop food on it when he's eating dinner in front of the t.v., and you like to projectile vomit </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >your </span><span style="font-size:100%;">dinner all over it when daddy goes to burp you. For some reason we had a delayed response to the fact that it happened every time, and now keep the cushions covered with blankets when we feed you on it. Daddy sometimes forgets though, but it's okay I would take you over a pretty pink couch any day of the week.<br /> Especially because now you are cooing!!! It startled me the first time you did it. I was changing your diaper, and you looked right at me, and made the sweetest little sound that I've ever heard. You don't do it very often, maybe once or twice a day, so it's such a surprise and treat when you do it. Daddy and I crack up every time we hear you. And argue as to which one of us you are telling 'i love you' to! You also move your mouth in such a way that it looks like at any second your are just going to spout off a couple of sentences. <br /> When you hit about 6 weeks you found your tongue, and when you are wide awake that little thing is just poking in and out of your mouth constantly. It makes our hearts so happy to see you discover your world. <br /> Another first, is you are now crying real tears. For the most part, it's still just a lot of noise when you cry. But every once in awhile, when you are really upset with something</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="font-size:78%;">(usually mommy taking too long before she feeds you)</span>, </span><span style="font-size:100%;">big ole crocodile tears squeeze out between your lashes, and it's just the most pitiful thing. They are usually accompanied by the most woebegone little frown, that just makes mommy and daddy feel so bad for you, but we usually still giggle because it's the cutest thing at the same time.<br /> You still have most of your hair, but you seem to be getting more of a receding hairline. Looking more and more like daddy every day! Haha. It's getting thinner, but still dark and lovely.<br /> Mommy finally broke down and put you on your tummy to sleep. This was a biggie for me. I don't know why I've been so worried or against it. I suppose it's because ALL the baby books, doctors, etc. say to put you on your back. But when you think about it, there is no animal in God's great kingdom that sleeps on it's back. I can't do it, so why do we think you will sleep comfortably doing it? You didn't. You're still up a lot, but I've seen a difference in how quickly you fall asleep when I put you down for bed. I think it helps with your reflux too.<br /> Ah, acid reflux. How I loathe thee. I had it the whole time I was pregnant, and it was miserable, so if your reflux is even half of what I had, I hurt for you. You were diagnosed as a 'classic reflux baby' at 7 weeks, and put on medicine. I don't know how much it is helping because you still have screaming fits that the doctor said was caused by the reflux, so we may have to up your dose or change meds completely. We have your 2 month check up next week, so we'll find out more then.<br /> Here's a fun fact. After two months of giving you a paci, mommy figured out that you've been sucking on a toddler pacifier <span style="font-size:85%;">(parents of the year, right here man!).</span> I didn't even look at the packaging when I opened it up several days after we brought you home. I hope it doesn't mess up your sweet, pretty mouth. Another thing to ask the doctor. I tried giving you a new one that is made for a newborn, but you just kind of moved it around in your mouth and spit it out, and gave me a 'what exactly are you trying to pull lady?' look.<br /> Your eyes are a dark, steely grey color, but I'm pretty sure they will stay dark and turn brown or hazel like mommy and daddy's. Your face shape is changing little by little. We think you look like daddy from the eyes up, and mommy from the nose down. And you still have the cutest little double chin <span style="font-size:85%;">(you get that from mommy too, yours is way cuter though!)</span>. Your legs are long, with just a roll or two up on your thighs, and your sweet little hands have dimples on the knuckles. Your lashes are long, but light in color, and your eyebrows are finally starting to darken up a little. Your fingernails are razor blade sharp and last week you swiped mommy on the cheek accidentally and drew blood! You've cut yourself several times, and even made the inside of your ear bleed like mad at one point. We nearly had a heart attack before we realized it was just a tiny scratch, and not some tragic injury of a sort that we were imagining when we first saw it.<br />The doggies and kitties are finally used to you. But Mr. Butler still gets upset when he hears you cry. I put Tiki-Belle up on the bed with us the other day, and she curled up at your feet. She's my love too, so I'm so glad that she seems to be taking to you more.<br />You're 2 months old, and lots and lots of changes my sweet girl.<br /> All in all, you are a bright, shining, lovely, happy baby bird. Mommy's love, and daddy's pride & joy. We think we'll keep you.<br />Love you for always.<br />Mommy</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-50303933742309512472012-01-09T16:52:00.021-05:002012-01-10T09:52:04.624-05:00The 'Bird's' NestSince Handsome and I didn't find out that Jolie was a little lady until the moment the doctor put her in my arms, we couldn't really decorate her room until she got here. We decided on neutral colors beforehand, which were gray and yellow. We picked the wall color and Jason turned into superman and changed out the flooring on the second floor, including her room, and painted. We got the crib, and then we just had to wait around to finish the rest. I did order what I thought was a solid white crib bedding set, but when it came in, J opened it up and found out that there were tiny pink flowers all over the inside bumper and crib sheet. I thought about sending it back, but wound up deciding to keep it just in case... it was a sign!<br /><br />Everything in her room but her bedding and a painting is used, borrowed, or handmade. And although I still for some reason tell people her room is 'gray & yellow', it's more accurately 'gray & every color in the rainbow'. There's no real theme, which I'm okay with because I'm not a boxed room kind of girl. I like more of an eclectic or whimsical look. There are a few more things that need to be completed, I still need to hang the custom birth announcement wall art that I made. And I'm still looking for the perfect yellow curtain to go on the window, a rug, and a red or yellow glider to replace the rocking chair. I also still have to get my dads old Boy Scout box and clean it up to use as her toy box under the window.... So, all in all, it's still a work in progress. It may be finished by the time she gets her drivers license.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The cow painting was the first purchase we made for the nursery. The few people that have seen it, have been "wow. a cow. in a nursery", but we love it. The 'M' was made for me by a sweet friend who threw us a beautiful baby shower.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhok8TCk2e8YNv3o1j6jRMKD1LkcjxF6TdTXDDzlqw0I2jUAaVgHpdLghJlR0BarFB4FhcHyDyUwctOboeaaSqZ_7IaGGnH2KjOhUVLL5cZHh78r8okcxN4mQGB2C5DQsCsCWmEcffX/s1600/jbirds+room+004.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhok8TCk2e8YNv3o1j6jRMKD1LkcjxF6TdTXDDzlqw0I2jUAaVgHpdLghJlR0BarFB4FhcHyDyUwctOboeaaSqZ_7IaGGnH2KjOhUVLL5cZHh78r8okcxN4mQGB2C5DQsCsCWmEcffX/s320/jbirds+room+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695759274144261922" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnaBMWRVL57U2u_i-J4wb4x7ZPs1jV63lbw6qe02olquHObbyN7RG1njOpNv2YGOzbBdPCS72B9mJ1mXXo_mRrRZ7vfdrG-RqHL3_hRKUNC8bjtPkM-_1PpH0MFHyl61Z5jTIcJxT/s1600/jbirds+room+003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnaBMWRVL57U2u_i-J4wb4x7ZPs1jV63lbw6qe02olquHObbyN7RG1njOpNv2YGOzbBdPCS72B9mJ1mXXo_mRrRZ7vfdrG-RqHL3_hRKUNC8bjtPkM-_1PpH0MFHyl61Z5jTIcJxT/s320/jbirds+room+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695778202797898530" border="0" /></a><br />I painted this chair 'ballet slipper pink' and recovered the seat with a pretty new fabric. The lamb I bought at the Goodwill for .50 cents. Double washed it, and it's good as new.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxS6ARGsbkTYAjglnO4HWBjAPdBuZUnWqeNehunRV_jdyDPi7SSjRsmPfoC2-b-NTMzlQMx6jmMFafy0KF1OXLFM8rpx8uZiZW3A4leVPznXw2iiEDaFPibFjIfRlAA7nIqmhs_qF7/s1600/jbirds+room+046.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxS6ARGsbkTYAjglnO4HWBjAPdBuZUnWqeNehunRV_jdyDPi7SSjRsmPfoC2-b-NTMzlQMx6jmMFafy0KF1OXLFM8rpx8uZiZW3A4leVPznXw2iiEDaFPibFjIfRlAA7nIqmhs_qF7/s320/jbirds+room+046.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695776304647991362" border="0" /></a>These little porcelain farm life figurines were in my room when I was a little girl. The table was given to me by a friend, and I changed out the original black knobs to give it a little more color.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQnmq7102b7Tl_hGb1nxd4HO9ACrjwOuYl1yLSmOw8u5f8rs6vFHSkl8-g_CW-ZxuIsCbxb8dJ0IEjHYVbPBmF9Mz28MiDZbwZqLJoml6SLbhO4hTHTwwh8bexXaTXbGaFgC05U-R/s1600/jbirds+room+045.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQnmq7102b7Tl_hGb1nxd4HO9ACrjwOuYl1yLSmOw8u5f8rs6vFHSkl8-g_CW-ZxuIsCbxb8dJ0IEjHYVbPBmF9Mz28MiDZbwZqLJoml6SLbhO4hTHTwwh8bexXaTXbGaFgC05U-R/s320/jbirds+room+045.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695776303010517442" border="0" /></a>The Texas & Georgia wall art I made<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisM9LGMf9ICfl4fc3apBHgRzeB1xQkPiofWBNbZSbKGl7PzpO4kJ77UQkFgU59_0I7B8YgUqCiFv1Ai5vbLGeZVldpb16qp3_SMMAe5Ifa6Tj88F1-xkzWnuy5hSrZwbdaiYS8lyh2/s1600/jbirds+room+047.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisM9LGMf9ICfl4fc3apBHgRzeB1xQkPiofWBNbZSbKGl7PzpO4kJ77UQkFgU59_0I7B8YgUqCiFv1Ai5vbLGeZVldpb16qp3_SMMAe5Ifa6Tj88F1-xkzWnuy5hSrZwbdaiYS8lyh2/s320/jbirds+room+047.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695776319416808482" border="0" /></a>Gold frame and chicken wire display (made by my daddy) of "pretties". vintage purse, hankie, and kid gloves belonged to my Great-Grandmother<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJiQu1kXnaXFP1Y1bfYOuptJ_vMObLjb25uyn6qvwUcUQZbkqKc8CKoiS3FQIKZlHhZuC-9EwRamexgbzgyls90uuYwNRaOXSL3gyZd-49XkXm032K61RAotvC-8wed3C7F_Sk9zhY/s1600/jbirds+room+041.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJiQu1kXnaXFP1Y1bfYOuptJ_vMObLjb25uyn6qvwUcUQZbkqKc8CKoiS3FQIKZlHhZuC-9EwRamexgbzgyls90uuYwNRaOXSL3gyZd-49XkXm032K61RAotvC-8wed3C7F_Sk9zhY/s320/jbirds+room+041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695773735056704290" border="0" /></a>antique lamp, picture of Jolie's mommy and mumsey, & a book "A Southern Belle Primer"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZFoHlZH8DEDOAPIIWvcnRpqJAXZ3xyN-Z0z4izY3nsNxosXqEbSFk5OeUAY5J2GTkShKu3C_OBl5buNAiCwNvt_15jYocJKF_s1W_Esb7jIyYgbmk19wAPWXUmgLajb5pQeUOmzI/s1600/jbirds+room+042.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZFoHlZH8DEDOAPIIWvcnRpqJAXZ3xyN-Z0z4izY3nsNxosXqEbSFk5OeUAY5J2GTkShKu3C_OBl5buNAiCwNvt_15jYocJKF_s1W_Esb7jIyYgbmk19wAPWXUmgLajb5pQeUOmzI/s320/jbirds+room+042.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695773737779179474" border="0" /></a>Embroidery hoop + fabric makes for inexpensive & custom wall art<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnk-rEIo6JEYQ_MaVOwOmY8zEYR45Zx7Xygpmwz7N-CNUXDWrhX15lh7lEMZp8rh1GG_v1Je1XIfDfqF1OsQnubq-ol5PltM8noepzBqYjC7HOYmGPjzoK7YQkQDMUcvSckzU509Vd/s1600/jbirds+room+036.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnk-rEIo6JEYQ_MaVOwOmY8zEYR45Zx7Xygpmwz7N-CNUXDWrhX15lh7lEMZp8rh1GG_v1Je1XIfDfqF1OsQnubq-ol5PltM8noepzBqYjC7HOYmGPjzoK7YQkQDMUcvSckzU509Vd/s320/jbirds+room+036.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695772704884120194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLIP0j37agEtYYLlS1ZM-2hd_rwNV7juO18JMJSsBqawEEhk0ibRfj3quAOWd3eWsXN_095F6STlnizgHgzhyOgtAbjApHbBCld4OHrOvb8j1bG0yoAsvmAJVDUl9ZaJ7NLE4ABPU/s1600/jbirds+room+040.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLIP0j37agEtYYLlS1ZM-2hd_rwNV7juO18JMJSsBqawEEhk0ibRfj3quAOWd3eWsXN_095F6STlnizgHgzhyOgtAbjApHbBCld4OHrOvb8j1bG0yoAsvmAJVDUl9ZaJ7NLE4ABPU/s320/jbirds+room+040.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695772707337085746" border="0" /></a>antique lamp base, with a pink shade & fabric rosettes I made for less than $5<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3raLhVNS9XaPH-Am-vTyLri8RHUB8GlVKpwYAq5lfbEXzVIGsrNOb1mZRsDBzdXLxrw-V3AT2lTsNXqdEPzvlcgYAf3ARoBzpBwUv8wgA3b536BY9t2_OUy05MEiuZjvdc5XeCULl/s1600/jbirds+room+030.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3raLhVNS9XaPH-Am-vTyLri8RHUB8GlVKpwYAq5lfbEXzVIGsrNOb1mZRsDBzdXLxrw-V3AT2lTsNXqdEPzvlcgYAf3ARoBzpBwUv8wgA3b536BY9t2_OUy05MEiuZjvdc5XeCULl/s320/jbirds+room+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695771924068301842" border="0" /></a>vintage beaded coin purse collection. (still need pictures in several frames)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJF-CsI9WSO9a0Gns-SI9QBfbZQxsrZdYDyc-a2lm2s3Fu39sU3eFisJh3ic44q0wUXz-xw3B5AhugNh70DaKDYz2zT8Bz42QpiT8rHZ-GpI14dfohs_e760CoxXEAjWkyI3lTMZQn/s1600/jbirds+room+032.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJF-CsI9WSO9a0Gns-SI9QBfbZQxsrZdYDyc-a2lm2s3Fu39sU3eFisJh3ic44q0wUXz-xw3B5AhugNh70DaKDYz2zT8Bz42QpiT8rHZ-GpI14dfohs_e760CoxXEAjWkyI3lTMZQn/s320/jbirds+room+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695771411289751346" border="0" /></a>I purchased this sweet angel at a local boutique in town. I've had it for several years. It's like it was made for her nursery.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLs39HSUFDye3dVPpT6Lb8CUdbHplQK1UbHY1XEDMW99A-DLh7uv8ncpQzVWo6lPh0sX4Zk2wHPBvHHKbhk4lOYbdG2up_YSNRTuXQoSH63AoFr3g5QF7UcuiUjUIZnabpkHPdHdxT/s1600/jbirds+room+033.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLs39HSUFDye3dVPpT6Lb8CUdbHplQK1UbHY1XEDMW99A-DLh7uv8ncpQzVWo6lPh0sX4Zk2wHPBvHHKbhk4lOYbdG2up_YSNRTuXQoSH63AoFr3g5QF7UcuiUjUIZnabpkHPdHdxT/s320/jbirds+room+033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695771414548523234" border="0" /></a><br />floral painting was painted by Joliet's Great-Great Aunt Scarlett<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnW06jA5uwd75uTfc2zwMNaD2hD2BcO8HgoNZ6_Mw8esTeHyFYlCqhK2wF3JVv3j609_aHp3sb8ZUyKTGAhFWogmrMZgqhIHxx1ate8PsbwbaFmxGxIIEYHvuA1kPmccjXIoebLJx/s1600/jbirds+room+025.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 198px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnW06jA5uwd75uTfc2zwMNaD2hD2BcO8HgoNZ6_Mw8esTeHyFYlCqhK2wF3JVv3j609_aHp3sb8ZUyKTGAhFWogmrMZgqhIHxx1ate8PsbwbaFmxGxIIEYHvuA1kPmccjXIoebLJx/s320/jbirds+room+025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695766412657527970" border="0" /></a>a sweet little white dress from when I was a baby<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyl3Vl1bRqjnu_r40eJELbUC-ZDmGvA8SJ6P2Q6fBVu6Cn0-X4VtrCdqFdXYGh6c-DEthn2FCad35jGEwOej8ObaMXm8hC8dpbXw0iN_jROuK_Q4qK1k2fYnjQiVA1HPib5_Go2R1/s1600/jbirds+room+021.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyl3Vl1bRqjnu_r40eJELbUC-ZDmGvA8SJ6P2Q6fBVu6Cn0-X4VtrCdqFdXYGh6c-DEthn2FCad35jGEwOej8ObaMXm8hC8dpbXw0iN_jROuK_Q4qK1k2fYnjQiVA1HPib5_Go2R1/s320/jbirds+room+021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695765865966035234" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWINELCbzW3bc4U3EqkvhGT6D9GimQSSliR6gSK3t_f1aJEsgwU7g1vJiuQBxkZ2y17xCkmsC1oglM2nYuqPcRMNxfs3RkqmXxSDriLQR4SL3U9QehoOISBVBjKIyhJDISB6g6gPm/s1600/jbirds+room+019%25282%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWINELCbzW3bc4U3EqkvhGT6D9GimQSSliR6gSK3t_f1aJEsgwU7g1vJiuQBxkZ2y17xCkmsC1oglM2nYuqPcRMNxfs3RkqmXxSDriLQR4SL3U9QehoOISBVBjKIyhJDISB6g6gPm/s320/jbirds+room+019%25282%2529.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695765037376850466" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9UrxgD44R38Yss_YGyq4YXWb5UFrI0ZTe4vgbHrlnz1QqVrDfNNhZe9AaLjNRJH3E4WQ7FMTHwTimQxhNDS4M8MYg0RbesQPKJzRRk0SzrNL9a4fFRDdM9O6e3GWcu15ndFM7b9Wy/s1600/jbirds+room+012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9UrxgD44R38Yss_YGyq4YXWb5UFrI0ZTe4vgbHrlnz1QqVrDfNNhZe9AaLjNRJH3E4WQ7FMTHwTimQxhNDS4M8MYg0RbesQPKJzRRk0SzrNL9a4fFRDdM9O6e3GWcu15ndFM7b9Wy/s320/jbirds+room+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695759287968204402" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNq7UL2tcq8Hk0X2tV4v2niqgZicaQNEBgnfMfkZuzToBOrAICfoFryD93wAadQydT6MUEHwLgxSJFHNd5bRA_Z1afnA-Zz_XyXy6nkbinZHdWCYDFLgLg7Dgk0lQ_VaHHVFceHS5S/s1600/jbirds+room+007.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNq7UL2tcq8Hk0X2tV4v2niqgZicaQNEBgnfMfkZuzToBOrAICfoFryD93wAadQydT6MUEHwLgxSJFHNd5bRA_Z1afnA-Zz_XyXy6nkbinZHdWCYDFLgLg7Dgk0lQ_VaHHVFceHS5S/s320/jbirds+room+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695759284549833474" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This curtain isn't staying. I'm still looking for a pale yellow cotton print to make a panel for the window.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1aiaeBWaklQT4KzB5L7wjcSfUS1LiHtiDpbq7xqlsh5RkWZFs5Dh0CTlYBNZGPER1-pttviztD0Dt6hnq3ByDod16QIJkJY0OKa0fnEx9OzIpPTZV-Zz_eC3zt5V4NgDu09XVmRf/s1600/jbirds+room+016.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1aiaeBWaklQT4KzB5L7wjcSfUS1LiHtiDpbq7xqlsh5RkWZFs5Dh0CTlYBNZGPER1-pttviztD0Dt6hnq3ByDod16QIJkJY0OKa0fnEx9OzIpPTZV-Zz_eC3zt5V4NgDu09XVmRf/s320/jbirds+room+016.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695759295899616354" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So that's Little Bird's nest as it is for the moment. Can't wait to get it all finished up!<br /><br /></div>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-3610631611685208322012-01-05T13:36:00.013-05:002012-01-05T14:46:12.910-05:00Wait... What?okay, so life with a newborn/infant/almost 7 week old isn't easy. wait... nobody said it was? how could i have missed that? Actually, I didn't... it used to drive me crazy when people said, "enjoy your sleep, the peace and quiet, and time to yourself now, because once the baby comes, it's all over" with that smug little, 'i know something you don't know' look on their face, and a little giggle almost to themselves as if they had waged a war at some point and come out victorious and much wiser on the other side. It was then followed up by a quick, "but they are totally worth it" and I wondered if they were trying to convince me or themselves of that fact. I <span style="font-style: italic;">hated </span>when people said that. They made having a baby sound like the choosing to have a child was equivalent to a bad toothache followed by a root canal, followed by a week long hangover. Okay, maybe not <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> bad, but rough going nonetheless.<br /><br />Ahem....<br /><br />The first few weeks, Little Bird slept, ate, pooped, slept, ate. a.lot. My nights were spent awake, and that made sense, but I assumed that by 4 weeks or so, something would change. She would sleep more and eat less during the night, start self-soothing more, and semi-entertaining herself some so I could do a few things around the house. W.R.O.N.G. She has gotten consistently worse. Last night I slept for 23 minutes total. Jason got about 45 probably, and Jolie got about 3 hours. That's when she wasn't eating every 1 1/2 hours, and screaming her head off the rest of the time. I don't know what's going on, but for the past 3 days, she's been what I deem "colicky", screaming<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" > .screaming. </span>for no reason for minutes at a time. She'll go from perfectly content, interacting and making faces at me, to her face turning beet red and legs and arms locked out tight, with a noise coming out of her little lungs that is so high pitched at times only the dogs can hear it, and I know this because Mr. Butler will look at me with a pained expression and go sit at the door to be let out (25 degrees outside or not). I'm typing this up during a lull, but her legs have started kicking so I know the storm is about to rear its ugly head at any moment. I didn't know colic had a late-onset type, from everything I've read it tends to start subsiding by 6 weeks, not gearing up (maybe I'm not reading the right stuff). And this is right at the time I'm supposed to go back to work. Today was actually supposed to be my first day back, but I postponed it till Monday to hopefully buy some time to let this little fit work it's way out (in the name of Jesus, Amen). I don't know if this crying is caused by something I am eating and passing on to her that doesn't agree with her tummy, but I've cut out almost everything and have been eating bland prison food like water and bread for the past several days, so I don't know what much more I could do from that end....<br />Jason called and made a doctor's appointment for her for later this afternoon just to make sure it's nothing serious. I couldn't call because every time I picked the phone up, she would let out a holler that would frighten the crows, so talking to anybody on the phone was out of the question. Although I'm sure I could have just held the phone up to Jolie, and they would have scheduled me an appointment with no words being exchanged. My conversation with Jason went as follows:<br />Jolie: <span style="font-size:130%;">SCREAMING</span><br />Me: Please call...<br />Jolie: <span style="font-size:130%;">SCREAMING</span><br />Me: the...<br />Jason: what? I can't hear you... is she screaming?<br />Jolie: <span style="font-size:130%;">SCREAMING</span><br />Me: doctor<br />Jolie: <span style="font-size:130%;">SCREAMING</span><br />Jason: should we take her to the doctor?<br />Jolie: <span style="font-size:130%;">REALLY SCREAMING</span><br /><br />Okay, so maybe it didn't go exactly that way, but it was close. The screaming part though? dead.on.<br /><br />I'm hoping it's just gas, they'll give me some gas drops, and we'll be on our merry way, and she will sleep through the night, and be back to her cheerful, happy self in the morning (in Jesus name, Amen). At this point, if she's not eating or sleeping, she is in my arms and we are walking. walking. walking. If I stop walking or put her down, here comes the noise. Bless her.<br /><br /><br />I have a baby, and so now 'i know something you don't know" too, and now I can shake my head and smile a little when I come across another soon-to-be mother and just tell her to enjoy her sleep, peace and quiet, and time to herself while she can, because "trust me" once the baby comes, it's all over. I also know and promise, that your child <span style="font-style: italic;">will </span>make nights shorter, make you feel a little <span style="font-size:78%;">. a lot .</span> insane, and wring every last drop of love out of your heart and they are totally, and absolutely worth it. Every last sleep deprived second, day 4 of no shower, 16 piles of dirty laundry, no food in the house because you can't get to the grocery store, bewildered looks between yourself and your husband, frustrated spells (there have been quite a few), and memory loss, W.O.R.T.H. I.T.<span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><span style="font-size:78%;">(and I'm not just trying to convince myself, haha)</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">peek-a-boo. i see you little girl. and you are the most precious thing in my life.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuIvJOLldYGMf5Bi0xpz_wK7zcsdz3H9JGhcOEKWVg_0ybYpaIx84TB6h-84GsxmuHpVREfx82DX4JpB1jOM6UHkEMztYShxskwcKUSW_p856hfSFM0GCiG-Ys5OpVVMnisrq0eMA/s1600/peekaboo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuIvJOLldYGMf5Bi0xpz_wK7zcsdz3H9JGhcOEKWVg_0ybYpaIx84TB6h-84GsxmuHpVREfx82DX4JpB1jOM6UHkEMztYShxskwcKUSW_p856hfSFM0GCiG-Ys5OpVVMnisrq0eMA/s320/peekaboo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694231709315222722" border="0" /></a></span></div>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-48581701441530061652011-12-22T19:28:00.012-05:002011-12-22T20:52:38.687-05:00Month 1<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCLQfsB-v-LkaTmcA389Qn9AV4YVjZQvup-UBXuPr1oV-_czcz-_pNwtDa9R0nR40guY6vvtmsXcbSGYf3uGlQc87C-NFXZk-S1roXbJ6HghmnHXSNsC_WLCEPKdkHj-qo5bc5Y0d/s1600/month+1+19.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCLQfsB-v-LkaTmcA389Qn9AV4YVjZQvup-UBXuPr1oV-_czcz-_pNwtDa9R0nR40guY6vvtmsXcbSGYf3uGlQc87C-NFXZk-S1roXbJ6HghmnHXSNsC_WLCEPKdkHj-qo5bc5Y0d/s320/month+1+19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689124429933496546" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My little baby girl is already one month old. I am only in a<span style="font-size:100%;"><code id="strikethroughResult">l̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e̶ ̶b̶i̶t̶</code></span> a lot of denial about this fact. In order to remember all the little changes as they happen, I decided to keep a month to month record of changes including a picture... or pictures. J-bird keeps me up almost all night long so as punishment, I spend all day taking pictures of her. she.hates.it. Too <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">stinkin</span>' bad little girl. Shouldn't be so cute.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Month 1<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Joliet</span> Parker Marrow<br />December 19, 2011<br />10.15 lbs. 23 3/4 ins.<br /></div><br /><br />You are one month old. You get prettier and prettier every day. And everybody falls more in love with you every time they see you.<br />You and mommy still get up 4 times a night. And feedings generally take 1.5-2 hours due to diaper changes, nursing, burping, and hanging out to let the milk settle. Makes for some long nights. For the past week you've been fussier than usual and I think it may be something in mommy's diet, so mommy has cut out dairy, tomatoes, mexican food, onions, anything spicy, chocolate, <span style="font-size:78%;">basically all the good stuff. .. </span>hoping it will help your stomach settle. You are staying awake more which is a joy because we get to see those big ole beautiful eyes. You have the best time looking at the Christmas tree lights. You stare at them for hours. You've started turning your head to the sound of mommy and daddy's voice when we come in the room. You make the cutest face when you get finished nursing and start your stretching. Your face tightens up and you purse your lips. You usually have milk running down your chin and your face is damp from it, and mommy has to stop herself from squeezing and snuggling you too hard from you being so cute. You haven't had any projectile vomiting in a week or two, but do spit up on occasion <span style="font-size:78%;">a lot.</span> I think you must grow an inch a day because every morning you look noticeably longer than the night before. Your eyes still cross from time to time, but that just means you are learning to control and focus them. Mr. Butler and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Tiki</span>-Belle still haven't quite figured you out, and mostly ignore you unless you are crying and then Mr. Butler whines and tries to jump up to get you. Your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Mumsy</span> found Crete sleeping in your crib yesterday, but that's pretty much the extent of the cats relationship with you. We haven't taken you out to meet Sweet Pea yet, but she probably won't have anything to do with you either, unless you have food for her. We still haven't quite figured out who you look like. You definitely have your daddy's hair. You even have his power alleys. Mommy doesn't see a whole lot of herself in you yet, <span style="font-size:78%;">except for the forehead. </span> maybe that'll come or maybe you'll always just look like you. A beautiful, big eyed, pouty lipped little munchkin. One month baby girl, and we are loving every minute.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkEH7L7F2ycst1EpLsXijasjUSW12qA7jeD5vTNZuep1ZZoLAlxgdrp649bLVps9aoHMPYaX-RQuWHe7yASXg993cWdBnFR7obgBozY8LskwG4vCenSjkGRlA3__trcu3RqPg6slrD/s1600/month+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkEH7L7F2ycst1EpLsXijasjUSW12qA7jeD5vTNZuep1ZZoLAlxgdrp649bLVps9aoHMPYaX-RQuWHe7yASXg993cWdBnFR7obgBozY8LskwG4vCenSjkGRlA3__trcu3RqPg6slrD/s320/month+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689126328221060546" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuqbng_l_9VyfkNmmYxEOlxPM5626t5bjkGRWDsXacjxO5pr0nneV6zcENW8MixrWWcSGu-jpQGWjrYgIDaAYdu0_YAHOHCBXvmEy9iO5-HTcsajXgD-H7iM0e5A0588vL1yaNOIX/s1600/month+1+10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuqbng_l_9VyfkNmmYxEOlxPM5626t5bjkGRWDsXacjxO5pr0nneV6zcENW8MixrWWcSGu-jpQGWjrYgIDaAYdu0_YAHOHCBXvmEy9iO5-HTcsajXgD-H7iM0e5A0588vL1yaNOIX/s320/month+1+10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689126319054650130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UNz5sLIZVTFJeE045lNiDPiGV6D-IuTjYlhT9qYIKPkeRpDPocUwM5D0u1li4w-cLxVPwYtrBP4547r_k2lVBdBjlMDVKmNFxN56e4tUKjj8Wm6gzgcX-T2gPlsMM9nZ7fso7azi/s1600/month+1+12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UNz5sLIZVTFJeE045lNiDPiGV6D-IuTjYlhT9qYIKPkeRpDPocUwM5D0u1li4w-cLxVPwYtrBP4547r_k2lVBdBjlMDVKmNFxN56e4tUKjj8Wm6gzgcX-T2gPlsMM9nZ7fso7azi/s320/month+1+12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689126302694743090" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg659hfSI8WqkeUWT72GHk6CZEhq2XoLwUQ4OkwGmKwmSJ0sbipP3jVM7dlGfRbgH8OknF4toPyf_14nzPTYGs8NFBmUIrV0imDbRjd8EbwP7GdzlqcLOcp2so8irC7DcWIOwNpI4hE/s1600/month+1+13+%25282%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg659hfSI8WqkeUWT72GHk6CZEhq2XoLwUQ4OkwGmKwmSJ0sbipP3jVM7dlGfRbgH8OknF4toPyf_14nzPTYGs8NFBmUIrV0imDbRjd8EbwP7GdzlqcLOcp2so8irC7DcWIOwNpI4hE/s320/month+1+13+%25282%2529.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689126297225476098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIa0LLkY9e4XVHRMVxmkyg10u8LNlVextb_dh_P4MHNxqikbgx0BdFmSvyhOoaNE7cRXAnGrBFenZ6KDOQLcyrM0suQppCviK5i9DbPRdpZu25tetX1VM2WTCtFHfz7gkeMdZtC6B/s1600/month+1+16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIa0LLkY9e4XVHRMVxmkyg10u8LNlVextb_dh_P4MHNxqikbgx0BdFmSvyhOoaNE7cRXAnGrBFenZ6KDOQLcyrM0suQppCviK5i9DbPRdpZu25tetX1VM2WTCtFHfz7gkeMdZtC6B/s320/month+1+16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689124434980208178" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCh1O7Ls2IW4ZfLTClqlmmp9vPQ-C-Z7kGDfAYYWzH4S6rgelc2N1pTrhUFAaRpZVSME4aaWraKvgqqD2FlpFI0cKcM0M_ppalrqzsFycZeyf_Lzi0oh2yfGTq8YTjMSj_H_g9qkc/s1600/month+1+20+%25282%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCh1O7Ls2IW4ZfLTClqlmmp9vPQ-C-Z7kGDfAYYWzH4S6rgelc2N1pTrhUFAaRpZVSME4aaWraKvgqqD2FlpFI0cKcM0M_ppalrqzsFycZeyf_Lzi0oh2yfGTq8YTjMSj_H_g9qkc/s320/month+1+20+%25282%2529.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689124416911625618" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1SXs3valjeXpREcgJUvEqCJUWpSEwxMIYWdNuSifOWT-DEI4-oCMlz-8QSXkuOB5l8Vdlg1wzrI6OTIqtqP07K3d34c40eBBN37bT3VY1HGA2ekpLV9oBbhyphenhyphendcEEsSLZWO8EfNNo5/s1600/month+1%25282%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1SXs3valjeXpREcgJUvEqCJUWpSEwxMIYWdNuSifOWT-DEI4-oCMlz-8QSXkuOB5l8Vdlg1wzrI6OTIqtqP07K3d34c40eBBN37bT3VY1HGA2ekpLV9oBbhyphenhyphendcEEsSLZWO8EfNNo5/s320/month+1%25282%2529.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689124411796078994" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br />for some reason her headband reminds me of a spider crawling across her head.... eeeekk.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kGua2q1yEWsOtQWkgyC12BW7wgmu3HYTQurJ2DjG8y54NOwVRiqiUvzHUAYtbV_TO-WVyay5WQk6aorMxKLNyaPkm1pebg2jOCPrRLsis4bdXrUzmaUzp5NJKqYG0UNno1gpVPcq/s1600/month+1+15.jpg"></a></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuai-qIkPtHuwdzCSAudn11DzcCw_ITDkwB93c669CZZFNkWlrnr8X8BJN_HCDb1nMINSMbD2mdY-tTXJfGN4oOYYGk1MN-9jfibOoVwwxSU0s2XVG51OSJnKUTuEWlNg7Q5rygCTn/s1600/month+1+9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuai-qIkPtHuwdzCSAudn11DzcCw_ITDkwB93c669CZZFNkWlrnr8X8BJN_HCDb1nMINSMbD2mdY-tTXJfGN4oOYYGk1MN-9jfibOoVwwxSU0s2XVG51OSJnKUTuEWlNg7Q5rygCTn/s320/month+1+9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689120274630139010" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0ORnNMlQvOdsCwWAg1qtCekheRFzatN9Y8XpnGdkBCUYRinV1uxiydOv6n1UvN-wqMPWGgjEj6nl8NOiO1cWknra3yYCaxBscbz0J93VEjwQvv3HHGglXzZVZ8gd7NiRfjoOcywj/s1600/month+1+6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0ORnNMlQvOdsCwWAg1qtCekheRFzatN9Y8XpnGdkBCUYRinV1uxiydOv6n1UvN-wqMPWGgjEj6nl8NOiO1cWknra3yYCaxBscbz0J93VEjwQvv3HHGglXzZVZ8gd7NiRfjoOcywj/s320/month+1+6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689120272047754786" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvDMsh4-kxAZe-X9aj5_Njb8adPCbqNUaJmHEQIkp5UPRHAT-nlfTU7dAI6XSXFnwbLFq4RAGLMfVVWTJNnSFziVV5cIO0fl6918LqZi2cuWyXDMtJCzgTJbWUaXQ4YI8LCLGPQGx/s1600/month+1+4%25282%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvDMsh4-kxAZe-X9aj5_Njb8adPCbqNUaJmHEQIkp5UPRHAT-nlfTU7dAI6XSXFnwbLFq4RAGLMfVVWTJNnSFziVV5cIO0fl6918LqZi2cuWyXDMtJCzgTJbWUaXQ4YI8LCLGPQGx/s320/month+1+4%25282%2529.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689120261766749954" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVs70hUNnYBlhD5EWDg8Dk-tPBEwMz98EQSoFQ5v9d4cZIBnm9z2eab0IYRNKCcfx4kNbwLnt-NvO_yno0X2vx0U3bOyZyUNlOlOSHA-13fyMwPE1LQGMDMf488AAL5OrzqljBBTW/s1600/month+1+10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVs70hUNnYBlhD5EWDg8Dk-tPBEwMz98EQSoFQ5v9d4cZIBnm9z2eab0IYRNKCcfx4kNbwLnt-NvO_yno0X2vx0U3bOyZyUNlOlOSHA-13fyMwPE1LQGMDMf488AAL5OrzqljBBTW/s320/month+1+10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689120285095192866" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">and one more....<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGSJOYQmztYx8KwdHddkkFxotMTU52AXtlR3zul6CPlPBMo_snPqBH1U7yPgJCALypiwTqQHBR_3rbQO1NV9o_oVkN6eRFFy_NyHez-sLHcQQt4weZNBKpm-wjs8DJ9Vi7GZO4m9A/s1600/month+1+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGSJOYQmztYx8KwdHddkkFxotMTU52AXtlR3zul6CPlPBMo_snPqBH1U7yPgJCALypiwTqQHBR_3rbQO1NV9o_oVkN6eRFFy_NyHez-sLHcQQt4weZNBKpm-wjs8DJ9Vi7GZO4m9A/s320/month+1+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689118391040481762" border="0" /></a>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-90082587886414759782011-12-14T13:07:00.017-05:002011-12-14T14:52:03.109-05:00She Has My Whole Heart...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJSh-TVORlWJdToslB-NhnCWErs4Jm-3PgfH84C7CMt-7hjVFr5O2Ifl6GFbjlSDq7w0uZbZ2y2pyuxBdg7nzOCBXBcn1cVIXBz_RB1EKJGDZyNMF_JDu-e6vGAz_aCeOpFO5gTzk/s1600/bird.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJSh-TVORlWJdToslB-NhnCWErs4Jm-3PgfH84C7CMt-7hjVFr5O2Ifl6GFbjlSDq7w0uZbZ2y2pyuxBdg7nzOCBXBcn1cVIXBz_RB1EKJGDZyNMF_JDu-e6vGAz_aCeOpFO5gTzk/s320/bird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686072767118727634" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I love surprises. Birthday parties, Christmas presents, anniversary trips, things like that.... and a good surprise engagement story will melt my heart like butter every time.<br /><br />Over November 18-19, I received the surprise of my life. Friday the 18th started off like any other (cue the whimsical music, and fade in), Jason happened to have the day off so he went with me to my twice a week Doctors appointment for my blood pressure check and non-stress test for Little Bit. I had been going to these appointments twice a week for the past month. Each time, they checked me and the baby, and determined that although my BP was high, they felt safe enough to let the pregnancy continue until the risk of continuing outweighed the benefits of waiting. However, they told us to be prepared, that at any time they could make the call to induce. Because they had been sending me home each time for the past month, when we went in Friday we assumed that that time would be the same. We went in and the nurse checked my BP and it read 150/90. She then said, Well, we're not going to do the NST today, we'll probably do something else. She then walked us back to the exam room, and told us to sit tight for the Doctor to come in and talk to us. Jason and I just sat there wondering what kind of other test they were going to do since they weren't doing the non-stress test. Well Dr. Little comes through the door and starts talking about the dangers of high blood pressure in pregnancy and all the side effects that it could cause to me and the baby. She then proceeds to say, so I think today is the day we need to make the call to go ahead and make plans to have this baby. Jason and I immediately look at each other, kind of dazed like, and I asked, "so, maybe induce Monday or Tuesday then?", and she said, "Oh no, we need to get this baby out a.s.a.p, we need to do this tonight." Holy Cow, it's kind of funny how surprised we were seeing as we had been told to be prepared for this for a month and half. <br /><br />So as we are wrapping our heads around the fact that we were going to be parents soon, Jason heads to the house to get his and baby's bag, that had been packed, but not put in the car. I head over to labor and delivery to get started on the paperwork (fun!). I was walking around on a semi-cloud, because even though I knew we were having a baby, I didn't <span style="font-style: italic;">feel </span>like I was having a baby. No contractions, no broken water, none of the stuff to know that I was in labor, and would soon be holding my baby on the outside instead of inside.<br /><br />Apparently, that weekend was the most popular weekend of the year to have a baby because there was no room at the inn, meaning they didn't have any beds available to put me in, so I had to go sit in the waiting room with all the families who were waiting on their bundles of joy to arrive. Jason finally blew through the doors with all 50 of our bags, and there we sat for about 30 more minutes. A room eventually became available, come to find out we "stole" one from a mom-to-be who was ahead of us, but we were triaged to her room due to my preeclampsia issue. The l&d nurse got me all hooked up to the monitors, and gave me a pill around 8 that was going to "get things started" The plan was to get things rolling, and then they would give me pitocin Saturday morning, and hopefully we would have a baby by Saturday evening.<br /><br />Once I was given the pill I started having contractions, and although they were uncomfortable, they weren't painful... I was like, man if this is as bad as it gets, "I've<span style="font-style: italic;"> got</span> this". I've had two bouts of kidney stones in the past, so I went into the labor thing with this big idea that I'd been through that kind of pain in the past, and the contractions I was feeling weren't that bad, so I had an overinflated sense that "HEY! maybe I can do this without the drugs...." Then, Dr. Little came back in to break my water. At that time she says, "the contractions will get noticeably stronger." That woman is a liar!! Within two minutes it felt like my insides were being turned inside out and I was hollering for the epidural! The anesthesiologist came in and hooked me up to the drugs, the problem was, it only took on my right side. My left side still felt like it was being screwed to a wall. He came back in about 30 minutes later and had to redo it, and the pain finally started to fade on my left side as well, thank you Jesus! Jason was probably pretty thankful too, because although I hate to admit it, I definitely would have been one of those laboring mothers who is jerking her husband by the collar screeching "you did this to me, I hate you!" haha. So again I say, thank you Jesus for modern medicine!<br /><br />Well, the nurse came back to check me around 5 am, and was shocked to see that I had dilated to an 8 cm, would not be needing the pitocin, and would be pushing within the next hour or two. Jason quickly started calling family to let them know. By 7:30 I was at a 10 and had started pushing. I've always been under the impression that when you are having a baby with an epidural, you just kind of push, and there's the baby. No real work involved. HA! I don't know where I got that idea, but good thing I'm not a betting woman, because I would have lost my shirt on that one. I only pushed for 45 mins, but each time I just knew my head was about to blow off my neck. Thank goodness it didn't because that would have just added a whole other level of mess I wouldn't have been prepared to deal with.<br /><br />Well, Handsome and my mom coached me to push one more time, and then there she was. <span style="font-style: italic;">SHE. </span>we have a daughter. Since Jason and I didn't find out the gender of the baby, that was the second surprise in 24 hours, and it was the best, most beautiful, heart stopping, life changing surprise. They put her up on my chest, and I got one good look at her before they took her away because she wasn't catching her breath immediately, and they had to work on her for a few minutes. But in that moment, I was forever changed. When I heard that first reedy cry, my breath stopped, and I understood in that moment, what "they" mean when they say, that "deciding to have a child is to decide to forever after have your heart go walking around outside your body." For the rest of my life, my heart belongs to a dark haired beauty with big, bright eyes. I don't know where her life will take her, or what plans God has for her, but I do know that her daddy and I will always be her biggest fans. She will always be the love of our lives, and we will love her with our whole hearts until the end of time.<br /><br />So that's our delivery story, minus a few details that are better left unwritten about. For the record, labor and delivery is not pain free, elegant, and/or a clean event. And whatever modesty you may feel, is soon gone right out the window.<br /><br />But trust me.... it is also the most awe-inspiring, overwhelmingly beautiful moment that life can offer. Children are a gift from God. A miracle in its purest form.<br /><br />Joliet Parker Marrow.... our joy, our happiness, our heartbeat, our miracle.Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-72077533915454693752011-11-17T12:48:00.010-05:002011-11-17T14:26:27.214-05:00Rock-A-Bye BabyWell, Tuesday we hit 37 weeks, Full Term!! Whoo Hoo.... we are 3 weeks away from our original D-Day, December 7. But due to my being diagnosed with preeclampsia, the docs say little sweet will definitely be here before then, whether I go into labor on my own, or we induce still waits to be seen. I've been on bed rest since October 24, and for the record, I am slowly.going.insane. Bed rest is no where near as fun as I was expecting it to be. They put me on bedrest on a Monday, by 9 am that Tuesday, I was talking to the dogs and put out that they wouldn't talk back. But as much as I complain about it lately, I know that it has done exactly what it was supposed to do, which was buy more time for the baby to continue to grow strong and healthy, to lessen the chance of underdeveloped lungs, etc... Jason has been so incredibly patient with my mood swings, and the fact that much like the first trimester, where I became a living, breathing bump on a log because of the fatigue, most of the burden falls on him to cook, clean, grocery shop, paint, and put down flooring. This baby is one lucky little bit to have him as a daddy, and I'm incredibly lucky to have him as a husband!<br /><br />We go tomorrow for another NST, which is a non-stress test they perform on the baby that they've been doing twice a week for the past month. This test is to determine whether or not the baby has been affected by my high blood pressure, which thankfully up til this point, he or she has not. All signs are pointing to an active, healthy, good size baby. So AMEN for that!!! Tomorrow, we will also hopefully set a date for induction. YaY for a plan!!<br /><br />We still have finishing touches to put on the nursery, so I'm not doing any pictures yet since it's very basic at this point, because I really want to wait til little sweet gets here to finish it up.<br /><br />I have made some artwork for the nursery.... Nothing is in a frame yet... Still looking for some pretty barnwood frames.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXYTGVSppk3DEyCvEaK3DyCP9SLXza_LYIu9LfYYV6QgfcAt57hUKAS4y_Vc9L9y1wwGXjFBDWGqFPDkIllP7RP3iGkQdzpvPv-zOOQLIJKnJq0pnGONgXuPX0_dt95Eriqazragq/s1600/love.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXYTGVSppk3DEyCvEaK3DyCP9SLXza_LYIu9LfYYV6QgfcAt57hUKAS4y_Vc9L9y1wwGXjFBDWGqFPDkIllP7RP3iGkQdzpvPv-zOOQLIJKnJq0pnGONgXuPX0_dt95Eriqazragq/s320/love.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676041217505657330" border="0" /></a>This is a quote I ran across on Pinterest, that makes my heart skip a beat every time I read it.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj80fUqP0Agoqu53Uba352nBqWZMvr_9yNyWNY4Dy1q8t05m2zCbfCBJuFvZAJm9d2nAjotNIPyT2wL-qT1cQ3M17Tyyjzb2hSEufjemV3oc1UIkc-f9ozzzwB4qXeVyzAbzlLd7AhC/s1600/Texas+Artwork.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj80fUqP0Agoqu53Uba352nBqWZMvr_9yNyWNY4Dy1q8t05m2zCbfCBJuFvZAJm9d2nAjotNIPyT2wL-qT1cQ3M17Tyyjzb2hSEufjemV3oc1UIkc-f9ozzzwB4qXeVyzAbzlLd7AhC/s320/Texas+Artwork.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676042141312412658" border="0" /></a>Jason was born in Texas, and I really wanted to include that somewhere in the nursery, so I made this, and then of course had to represent the great state of Georgia where I was born... so I made this companion piece....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hFWj_FkIDA-pRAAGQWYR1pAm2H7In8s_9_ma2cFqT1TvHnivW6JSMUmTaKFXgDxYtH4yKJGnVIBa2GbIJuCMLtJj_UUlzBXbbKv7GgnT1WQxtzzevTByHO1aa1iMkh3j-NwoY1VF/s1600/Georgia+Artwork.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hFWj_FkIDA-pRAAGQWYR1pAm2H7In8s_9_ma2cFqT1TvHnivW6JSMUmTaKFXgDxYtH4yKJGnVIBa2GbIJuCMLtJj_UUlzBXbbKv7GgnT1WQxtzzevTByHO1aa1iMkh3j-NwoY1VF/s320/Georgia+Artwork.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676042929819845074" border="0" /></a><br />These are a little girly, so if little sweet, is a little sweet boy, I'll probably redo these and use more "manly" colors... and maybe save these and frame them and hang them over the oven in the kitchen.<br /><br /><br />This is the antique cradle Jason got me for the baby. We've actually had it for well over a year, and I have been in love with it since the moment I first saw it. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in it's simplicity and what it represents. All it needs now is a baby!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzapl9XzfEv1UJepX7YHZMLHBsUoJc7btoZ5OzqZYbVlwcyMhoMCe_5tHIzJgj2-YGxaWi44jHDA2JIckqMEsEuPz5yb4LS9d1n6EWxcRlB4y4GGcCqjVodTMqUlZ1AWFe5fsi93uo/s1600/baby+bed.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzapl9XzfEv1UJepX7YHZMLHBsUoJc7btoZ5OzqZYbVlwcyMhoMCe_5tHIzJgj2-YGxaWi44jHDA2JIckqMEsEuPz5yb4LS9d1n6EWxcRlB4y4GGcCqjVodTMqUlZ1AWFe5fsi93uo/s320/baby+bed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676047793084585858" border="0" /></a>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-8843191977238432542011-09-23T12:29:00.002-04:002011-09-23T12:30:24.903-04:00About the Boy....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuypqsflDTNW0BK_s3RYkvjLFCGQN1QC_XQbTog604OznRAArpMTH5Ak3wubLh8eC6GXLo4QXLuasR90sd-XQMEXGwB2QhTDUiGXuMr3MT96I_8MwAlneHXw5e_y7YTWmX88KYU1Y4/s1600/untitled.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuypqsflDTNW0BK_s3RYkvjLFCGQN1QC_XQbTog604OznRAArpMTH5Ak3wubLh8eC6GXLo4QXLuasR90sd-XQMEXGwB2QhTDUiGXuMr3MT96I_8MwAlneHXw5e_y7YTWmX88KYU1Y4/s320/untitled.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655593217156552082" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">He...<br /><br />is a soon-to-be first time daddy.<br /><br />is Texas born, and North Georgia raised.<br /><br />loves the Bulldogs, the Braves, buying American, fly fishing, and spending time in the woods.<br /><br />loved Pat Green even before he “went Nashville”.<br /><br />opens car doors, restaurant doors, and always lets the girl walk ahead of him.<br /><br />brought flowers and a card to his girl's mom for mother's day... and nobody asked him to.<br /><br />has 535,326 baseball caps (give or take a few).<br /><br />has just as many t-shirts.<br /><br />would take a bad day of fishing over a good day at work any day.<br /><br />is as comfortable in a pearl snap and wranglers as he is in a seersucker suit and bow tie.<br /><br />looks dang good in both.<br /><br />is the first to grab hands with his girl when they are walking together.<br /><br />watches Keeping Up With the Kardashians with his girl, and doesn't complain.<br /><br />hates gas grilling, only grills with charcoal.<br /><br />gets frustrated when he spends hours cleaning and washing his girl's car, and then she leaves fingerprints all over the door, junks up the car with stuff from work, and leaves candy wrappers & receipts in the cup holders.... but he keeps doing it anyway.<br /><br />likes reading crime thrillers.<br /><br />brought his girl a bouquet of wildflowers, and took her to a haunted corn maze for their first date, and didn't think she was a weirdo for freaking out, and climbing all over him in the corn.<br /><br />called her for a second date,.... and married her.<br /><br />has a criminal justice degree from the University of Georgia, but wound up in surveying and spends a lot of his time with a machete in the woods.<br /><br />is great with kids, and they love him, except when he grows out his beard and then they freak out a little because the wooley-bugger look can be a bit intimidating.<br /><br />buys Dawn dish soap, "because they donate money to save the whales and stuff."<br /><br />is a much better cook than his girl.<br /><br />will eat anything she cooks, sometimes he actually likes it.<br /><br />is the oldest of four, and fits the "oldest child personality" to a <i>T</i>.<br /><br />plays baseball with an adult men's league baseball team, and he's pretty good. (+ looks super cute in the uniform).<br /><br />thinks he is always right. always.<br /><br />usually is right.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br />has always wanted a dump truck to drive around "just because".<br /><br />drinks his coffee strong, and black. you could throw a horseshoe in his cup, and it would stand up straight.<br /><br />is a natural in a cowboy hat, and saddle.<br /><br />wants to live in Montana, meet Nolan Ryan, and hike the Appalachian Trail, before he dies.<br /><br />could have played golf and gone to Reinhardt for college on someone else's dime, but chose UGA and doing it "on his own" instead.<br /><br />irons his own clothes because she is terrible at it.<br /><br />rescued a dog off the side of the road, that wound up loving him more than life itself.<br /><br />is no nonsense, independent, strong willed, and honest.<br /><br />looked like he was 12 until he was 20.<br /><br />sings along to lady gaga and britney spears in the car.<br /><br />is affectionate, patient, thoughtful, and kind hearted.<br /><br />tolerates his girl's ability to make everything more complicated than it should be.<br /><br />is a firm believer in picking yourself up by the boot straps, and not relying on others to make your life happen for you.<br /><br />says he doesn't care if his first baby is a boy or girl, but she knows he really wants a boy so "he can watch over the others", (& so there will be another person in the house who will willing watching espn with him <i>all </i>day long).</p> <p class="MsoNormal">is as american and southern as apple pie and cornbread.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">is the only boy the girl will love for all her life.</p>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-52381702284671683752011-09-21T12:51:00.019-04:002011-09-22T09:28:11.051-04:00About the Girl....She....<br /> <br />loves anything in a mason jar <br /><br />is a soon-to-be first time mama<br /><br />loves eating honey off the spoon<br /><br />loves Dolly Parton's attitude<br /><br />will risk snake bites, and scratched up arms & legs to eat a fresh blackberry off the vine<br /><br />loves her rust bucket '89 Ford Bronco, but enjoys the air conditioning & reliability of the Cadillac<br /><br />loves people who think outside the box<br /><br />loves flannel, campfires, & roasting marshmallows for s'mores<br /><br />loves her mr. butler & tiki-belle (dogs), and crete (cat), and sorta likes petra (other cat, who doesn't like her back)<br /><br />has a pig (sweet pea) that likes being scratched behind the ears, and loves mexican food, sweet potatoes, and twinkies.<br /><br />will pick the cupcake over the carrot stick every.time.<br /><br />loves riding horses with her cowboy.<br /><br />is not a big fan of summer, or sweating, or exercise of any kind.<br /><br />loves mixing rustic and feminine elements... if she could live in a barn with crystal chandeliers, she would.<br /><br />loves shoes, but tends to wear flip flops 24/7<br /><br />loves bluegrass, motown, red dirt/texas country, & beach music<br /><br />semi-likes growing a garden.... it's hard work.<br /><br />loves that her man still opens doors for her<br /><br />loves country gold saturday nights<br /><br />likes the idea of fairies, but not aliens.<br /><br />preferably likes to hear "dinner was good" rather than silence when her cowboy eats the food she cooked.<br /><br />is not a good cook.<br /><br />can sing every word to ray stevens' "mississippi squirrel revival"<br /><br />loves when people adopt a dog rather than buy a pure bred.<br /><br />loves sunny sweeney.<br /><br />will choose to read a good book over watching t.v. any day<br /><br />loves standing in a meadow at dusk, a slow dance in the backyard, and a painted wooden porch swing.<br /><br />thinks that renee zellweger is a perfect example that if you make a face long enough, it will in fact get stuck like that.<br /><br />is not a fan of folding fitted sheets, white laundry, and cleaning out the refrigerator<br /><br />is a big fan of her husband, her family, and her friends.<br /><br />found ants in the bronco feasting on a bag of candy corn in the glove box that had been there for years, "for emergencies- cause you just never know" - she doesn't know which one she should be more embarrassed about.... the ants <span style="font-style: italic;">in.the.car</span>, or keeping candy corn for emergencies<br /><br />doesn't like fishing, she likes catching.<br /><br />loves southern colloquialisms including, but not limited to the following... "haven't seen you in a coon's age"... "knee high to a grasshopper"... "he's nuttier than a squirrel turd" et cetera.<br /><br />will misspell the words "wednesday, misspell, particularly, guarantee, and conscious" the first time, every time.<br /><br />can't stand when people misuse, "lose & loose, they're, their, there, and your & you're"<br /><br />loves a good knee slapper<br /><br />breaks for cats, dogs, squirrels, and box turtles.Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-42858437000255916542011-08-29T09:54:00.008-04:002011-08-29T12:58:32.650-04:00Firefly NightsI've been meaning to blog about this for 2 weeks now, but since I've been expecting, I've been a terrible procrastinator.... actually that's a lie. I've always been a procrastinator, but I like this pregnancy thing, cause I can blame EVERYTHING on it! And people just kind of shake their head and say you poor thing, whether they believe me or not. It's great.
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<br />Anyway, last weekend, J planned a date night that was a total surprise, and absolutely perfect. We haven't gotten out much lately, because for one, I'm not a whole lot of fun lately, and two, I'm not a whole lot of fun lately. At this point, you could give me the option to a) Fly to New York and go shopping with unlimited credit or b) take a nap, and I can honestly say, I'd probably take the nap. no lie. All I can say, is this baby better be worth it, cause it sure is sucking the life out me. I mean, who would give up a shopping trip to NY to take a siesta? Exactly. (<span style="font-size:78%;">just kidding little baby, i love you to the moon and back, so you just keep on keeping on kid!)</span>
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<br />So, anyway, we got all gussied up, and went to dinner at Appalachian Grill so I could stuff my face with a grilled chicken salad that is.to.die.for. and listen to the sweet audio flavors of the Appalachia.
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<br />J then drove us up to Barnsley Gardens in Adairsville for their summer Firefly Nights in the Ruins Event that they host several times a summer each year. I'd never heard of it before, but can honestly say I'd recommend to anybody. It was especially nice because it's a no charge event. And that's saying something for a resort like Barnsley. They do getcha on the cost of their specialty drinks though. They have a special cocktail called Firefly <span style="font-size:78%;">of course</span> that I obviously couldn't partake in, but it smelled like a jolly rancher and made my mouth water, and it <span style="font-style: italic;">glowed.</span> Pretty nifty. They have the cocktail and wine bar set up inside the ruins along with a live romantic music singing group who sang all the good beach and motown music that I love. And these folks were on.their.game. They made me want to get up and dance, but I didn't cause nobody wants to see a fat girl dancing around looking like a beachball trying to shag. Plus my feet were swollen and about to blow out the sides of my shoes. <span style="font-style: italic;">But</span>, the urge was definitely there!
<br />They have tables and chairs set out inside the ruins and on the lawn, and garden lights strung everywhere. The evening we went was warm and breezy, and there was not a bug in site. We either got very lucky, or they sprayed the heck out of some skeeter repellent before we got there, <span style="font-style: italic;">cause I didn't get not one bite</span>!
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<br />I would say it's adults only event, not that children wouldn't be welcome, but they'd probably be as interested in it, as they would going grocery shopping or getting their teeth cleaned.
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<br />We actually met a high school friend of J's there who was with her husband and in-laws, and thoroughly enjoyed their company for the evening. There was also some side show entertainment from a small group of 40 somethings acting like they'd never had a liquor drink before, or been out in public for that matter, that got into a heated exchange on whether the candle holder on their table was called a candelabra or a chandelier.... for the record it was a candelabra, but I didn't have the hankering to put my two cents into <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> particular conversation, so we just listened to them bicker about it every 30 minutes or so, because for some reason it kept coming back up in their conversation.Just in case you were not aware, when you are not drinking, it's almost painful to listen to a group of drunk people try to have a conversation amongst themselves.
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<br />All in all it was a fantastic night, and I stayed out way past my 8:15 bedtime, and wound up missing Sunday School the next morning, but it was a perfect evening with my love under the stars.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0w-d41USFq-hmPCSyhKTjEo505gihk6oFmo2GdAbYpvk5Q1Ey-fMYGgnu5QK43UG_3x_OIgcH94ho8NoQQdgWtd7-Ucv89eSrQ2pcEiHq2cT37B_SBXz30_wnqcdWeTCHKcWwWudG/s1600/fn.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0w-d41USFq-hmPCSyhKTjEo505gihk6oFmo2GdAbYpvk5Q1Ey-fMYGgnu5QK43UG_3x_OIgcH94ho8NoQQdgWtd7-Ucv89eSrQ2pcEiHq2cT37B_SBXz30_wnqcdWeTCHKcWwWudG/s320/fn.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646286895450166498" border="0" /></a>
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<br />P.S.- I don't recall seeing any fireflies, but there was one rather large stinkbug that kept crawling around our table, that's kinda the same thing right?
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<br />Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-1187613492102225492011-07-21T10:52:00.016-04:002011-07-21T12:19:27.175-04:00A Woman Blessed....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbplv30UxsWwDDsS6pZDIQoD95_sg26cmEL3XrCRaDFHY-ANxlTyMIqWexswoUAQxcU2VZQrFTEc7QR0qpeZJ5y4dzsR4sQy36HXZkHCmCah4FVAiKMDYdsq322UMu9fVWNicKGSt/s1600/SCARLETT.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbplv30UxsWwDDsS6pZDIQoD95_sg26cmEL3XrCRaDFHY-ANxlTyMIqWexswoUAQxcU2VZQrFTEc7QR0qpeZJ5y4dzsR4sQy36HXZkHCmCah4FVAiKMDYdsq322UMu9fVWNicKGSt/s320/SCARLETT.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631829725440018418" border="0" /></a><br />Well, I suppose we've kept the secret long enough, and it's time to tell the world, that Baby Marrow is on schedule to introduce him/herself to us on December 7!!<br /><br />This is a baby that I've dreamed of and hoped for and prayed for my whole life, and we are simply overjoyed at being blessed and called on by the good Lord to be <span style="font-style: italic;">Baby's</span> mama and daddy.<br /><br />Although we could have found out if we have a he or she several weeks ago, we've decided to be surprised. We want the moment of excitement of the Doctor holding up our butter bean and telling us to buy baseball cleats or ballet shoes.<br /><br />I've been getting my online updates weekly to see what type/size fruit our baby is compared to weekly. It's always fun to text J and tell him, "today we have a beet...today we have a bell pepper" and so on and so forth. For the record, this week we have an... heirloom tomato...? I'm supposing those are bigger than normal tomatoes? When we went Friday, we were told Baby is weighing in at 11 oz., and is measuring in right on schedule.<br /><br />When the tech took the above picture, she accidentally snapped the image while the forehead was in a shadow, so you can't really see it... which I'm okay with. Jas and I both have rather large foreheads, so I know there is no way I'm getting away with delivering a baby without the family trait. Therefore, I'm totally cool with not picturing it for the next 5 months.<br /><br />This is the only real good "sweet baby" picture we got on ultrasound day. In the rest of them, Baby is staring straight at us, and looks rather alien like. Cute, but strange. Baby also stuck it's tongue out at us once or twice which was sweet, and made a tear or two run down my face.<br /><br />For the record, this growing a baby deal is harder than it looks. For nearly 2.5 months I was sick as a dog all day... the nausea and chronic fatigue was indescribable. Unless Jason cooked, he ate sandwiches for dinner for nearly the whole time. Thank goodness the extreme mono like symptoms have abated, and I'm only tired now, most of the time instead of all the time. And I like food again. Love food again. My baby bump is sorta spread out all over. Gonna have to reign in the wild feeding frenzies I've allowed myself over the past several weeks, or they may have to lift the roof off the house like in those Jerry Springer episodes to get me to the hospital to deliver. <br /><br />So there it is. Our happy, exciting, life changing, no longer "we" but 3 news...<br /><br />I end this post with some of my hopes, wishes & prayers for our little one...<br /><br />To Baby,<br /><br />I hope you learn to..... dance in the rain.<br />I hope you aren't afraid of... taking chances. Even if you fail or are disappointed... never.stop.taking.chances.<br />I hope you love.... to read.<br />I hope you appreciate... your elders... those with "been there, done that" knowledge and experience are indispensable to your life.<br />I hope you get... your daddy's crooked little grin.<br />I hope you laugh... at yourself.<br />I hope you embrace... the differences in people.<br />I hope you ignore... bullies.<br />I hope you never... lose the ability to believe in magic, miracles, and yourself.<br />I hope you become... whatever it is you wish to be.<br />I hope you respect.... the Earth.<br />I hope you stand up for... yourself, and for others who are unable to stand up for themselves.<br />I hope you grow.... in the knowledge that you can change the world.<br />I hope you always...find a reason to smile.<br />I hope you have...somebody beside you always that reminds you that you are precious, and loved, and cherished.<br />I hope you don't...worry, your life and everything in it is going to be amazing.<br />I hope you never forget... that you were, are, and always will be, God's child.<br /><br />We love you Baby. You have already changed our lives in ways you cannot even imagine. <br /><br />Love you for always,<br />Mommy<br /><br />p.s.- I hope you aren't a picky eater. Even mommy has food I don't like, but if it's set in front of you, you try it anyway.Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-79666921323988651872011-03-09T10:00:00.025-05:002011-03-09T16:57:34.424-05:00Day 16: I'm eating junk and watching rubbish! You better come out and stop me!<div><strong><em>Day 16: Something That Stresses You Out</em></strong></div><br /><p>Staying Home Alone.<br /></p><br /><p>Okay, to share a bit of an embarrassing side of my personality today, I've finally accepted the fact that the older I get, the more of a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">scaredy</span> cat I become. </p><br /><p>I've always been a bit of a wimp when it comes to staying home alone, but it's gotten progressively worse over the past few years. In college, it didn't bother me much. But it was after I moved back home, met and married Handsome that I have become a full blown, all out pansy when it comes to staying overnight by myself. J tells me about a trip he's going to have to go out of town for, and I turn into a clingy, blubbering, crying, ball of childish emotion. Okay. maybe it's not quite that bad, but it's pretty <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">dern</span> close (J will probably tell you it <em>is </em>that bad.) And then I quickly get on the phone and start calling all my closest family and friends that know I'm a big fat baby, and start scheduling nights that I'm going to borrow their guest room, because I'm a 27 year old, grow woman, who cannot stay home alone without practically peeing in her pants at the thought of it. </p><br /><p>We have three dogs, yes. But 2 of them are under 20 pounds, and the big one that's 90 lbs. and would conceivably be the one to "defend our house" is deaf, blind, and dumb and would sooner play handshake with an intruder than bite them in their boy parts and save the day.</p><br /><p>We have neighbors, but not the kind that are so close in proximity to us that you could pass a cup of sugar back and forth through the kitchen windows. So there's a good chance, they would be unable to hear me scream.</p><br /><p>Plus the house is in the woods. Plus we live right off the highway. Plus we live in America, in the 21st Century, and there are all kind of crazies out there. </p><br /><p>We <em>are</em> a household that proudly takes advantage of our Right to Bear Arms. But it's hard to shoot an intruder in the dark. Plus, I'd probably be sleeping when they grab me anyway, so my gun wouldn't be very useful at that point.</p><br /><p>I know that this fear is cultivated by the fact that the only shows on t.v. I watch are crime dramas. I'm a <strong><em>big</em></strong> Law & Order (all of them), <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span>, and Bones fan. <span style="font-size:85%;">(I also love Jersey Shore... <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Snookie</span> is a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">trainwreck</span>, that likes pickles, and bad fake tans, and she cracks.me.up). </span></p><br /><p>I have tried staying home alone. And in fact, have done it on multiple occasions. But, I.don't.sleep. I sit up in bed, with the door barricaded, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">boobie</span> traps set up, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">tiki</span>-belle (my 20 lb. dog who has the most ferocious growl of the 3) in my lap, surrounded by various self-defense paraphernalia, (you know numb-chucks, and throwing stars, and all that good stuff), 911 dialed into the phone just waiting on me to hit "send", listening for any noise that means <em>there must be somebody in the house with me. <----</em>Oh good times.</p><br /><p>Yes, I'm a big.fat.baby. I'm not proud of it you know. Some people just love being home alone. Nobody to tend to, make meals for, clean up after. Peace, quiet, and solitude. I get it. And I like that too, until the sun goes down.</p><br /><p>Have you seen the movie The Strangers? No? Well, let me just tell you. The couple in that movie get tortured and left to die, just...because...they...were...home..... I'M HOME ALL THE TIME. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">OMG</span>. I feel the hair on my skin standing up as we speak. </p><br /><p>Anyway. Today's post is about "something that stresses you out"</p><br /><p>Something that stresses me out?</p><br /><p>Being <em>home alone. </em>Jason just left for a 5 day fishing trip. perfect.</p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582202365448199618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMBRrYTqxAq90OxYTvJQawq1wyjLEllIA6lkJZeFpNWkeSnNlK1tQnB3Ulsw4uwBrpBYkN5qbtdM8ICNTIFTUhL8Gt5uKaoXhB2IYBrRRI0suNI14sPT8WrqrPZep23OSdcCivyVj/s320/259_scaredy-cat.jpg" /><br /><p></p>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-49748314485150679952011-03-08T11:59:00.024-05:002011-03-08T16:33:09.048-05:00Day 15: Regrets<span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 15: Something You Regret</span><br /><br /><br />I believe in having no regrets. One of the single most things I pray for is that at the end of my life, I can look back and honestly say that some days were good, some days were bad, some were perfect, some were heartbreaking, some were just so-so and easily forgettable, but not one of them do I regret, not one thing would I go back and change a choice I made for me and my life.<br /><br />Okay. Having <span style="font-style: italic;">said</span> that I do have to confess that I have a few things in my past that if I could take back I would.<br /><br />There are people that have passed through my life, that I don't care to see again. There are events and circumstances that have happened that have been unpleasant and sad. But those are things that I wouldn't necessarily take back because they have helped shaped me to be who I am today. They have been the people I have met, things I have done and experienced, and the roads that I have taken that have put me exactly where I am in this moment.<br />Of course, having the knowledge I have now, there would be a few things I might have nudged in a different direction. There are people I have lost, and circumstances that have happened to loved ones, that I would without a doubt change for them if I could, but choices that I have made?<br /><br />Things I <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> regret?<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span>I didn't go on a family trip to Egypt my senior year of college. My grandmother has always had a love for Egyptian history<span style="font-style: italic;">, </span>archeology, and culture (& alcohol, not just Egyptian alcohol, but alcohol in general). She has made several trips to Egypt over the past decade or so, and this last time she offered to take my family. Of course they went. I mean, duh. Yes, <span style="font-style: italic;">they</span> went. But I didn't. I might have blamed it on studying for finals, and having to wrap up and present my senior history thesis. But the real reason I didn't go was I was terrified to fly. I have flown many times in my life. My aunt and uncle lived in San Francisco for years, and we went out there occasionally to visit. I've flown to Washington State, once for a cousin's graduation, and once for a skiing trip. I've flown places on various family vacations. I've flown to Europe TWICE. I mean, I've done it plenty of times. Yet, I was 24 years old, my grandmother offered to take me on a once in a lifetime trip, and I turned it down because I was completely paralyzed with fear of stepping foot on that airplane. This phobia seemed to develop over time, and several years after 9/11. I've never had a flying experience that would cause this intense fear. (Side note... we did miss our flight from New York to Atlanta due to weather, and had a random layover in St. Louis, the plane we hopped back home was basically a tin can with wings. The toilet didn't flush, and the cockpit door was broken, and we couldn't hear ourselves talk over the noise of the engines, but overall it <span style="font-style: italic;">was </span>an okay flight). I'd even flown cross country since the day I my phobia started. This fear is not so much being terrified that an extremist with an ax to grind and a hatred of my country would choose <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> plane to fly through a building (I mean, that would be terrible), but rather it's a fear that one of the any million little pieces that keep <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> plane in the air for the required length of time, (as in, until our chosen destination was in site and the landing gear down, and seat backs and tray tables in their upright and locked positions). I have this recurring nightmare that I look out the window, and the wing of the plane has just fallen off, the oxygen masks have just dropped out of the ceiling, I can't get my seatbelt fastened, and we start the spinning downward decent of death, and can do absolutely nothing about it, but scream and really regret taking that specific flight <---nice huh? It's that thought that makes my heart seize up, and my chest get tight, and it's what makes me tell my grandmother over the phone when she offers me an all expenses paid trip to visit the cradle of civilization, "um, yeah... no thanks, but y'all have fun!" She was tentatively planning another trip towards the end of this year, or the beginning of next, but that may be shot due to the fact that the middle east is in complete turmoil, and can't get their acts together. So yeah, I completely hate and regret that I passed on that experience with my family. <br /><br />Second thing I regret? my tattoo. eeeekkkkk!!! I forget I have it most of the time. Usually, until I see one on somebody else, and I roll my eyes until I remember and think, "who are you to judge? you have the most obvious tattoo, in the most obvious place that any teenage girl, drunk out of her mind, at Panama City Beach has" Yes folks, that's right. I (me!), has a tattoo of a butterfly on my lower back. *hangs my head* I'm so ashamed! Haha. I was young, and dumb, and apparently bored. And for some reason what little bit of creativity (and good judgement) I have was taking a day off, when I looked at my best friend, and said "ya wanna go with me to get a tattoo?" of course she said yes. And so we drove down to Marietta, I walked into the shop and up to the biggest, burliest, tattoo covered man there and said "I want a tattoo, but I don't want it to show, and I want it to be different" <---- butterfly on my lower back. Reeeally unique. Anyway, it's not that I hate tattoos. I'm just not a<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">permanent</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> ink drawing, faddish kind of girl, </span>and yet here I am with one <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> it's forever....Oh the irony! The thing is, I don't even regret getting it. I just really regret where it is, and what it is. If I was going to get one, it should have meant something. It should have been personal. And it wasn't/isn't. Oh well, not much to be done about it now. At least, it may help me relate to my future kids better if one of them goes off their rocker a little bit. Never tried drugs, never been a boozer, don't listen to grudge metal bands, don't wear emo clothing, don't cheat or steel, but hey! mommy's got a tattoo, so she is totally relate-able! *wink*<br /><br />Thirdly? I totally regret eating those two rows of samoas girl scout cookies I just scarfed down.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_iq2ywKqil8ZWM00f72iSaeGAma3Pyhg5vcycFy2PK_jD7ddgXVSqxcwr-Ebn3QUcHMu0YF2GIK5tsy7406CJleAvl1phQhfQCIz7JJCyoRjLKqvPAQaZCgQzIyCpWutdIkptkcF/s1600/funny-dog-pictures-regret-view.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_iq2ywKqil8ZWM00f72iSaeGAma3Pyhg5vcycFy2PK_jD7ddgXVSqxcwr-Ebn3QUcHMu0YF2GIK5tsy7406CJleAvl1phQhfQCIz7JJCyoRjLKqvPAQaZCgQzIyCpWutdIkptkcF/s320/funny-dog-pictures-regret-view.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581776212770229730" border="0" /></a></span><br />xoxo,<br />asmAnne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-14180936551282633112011-03-07T11:32:00.012-05:002011-03-07T11:52:27.757-05:00Day 14: The Saddest Place on Earth<span style=";font-family:Georgia;font-size:12pt;" ></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Day </span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">14: A Place</span> You've Traveled To</span><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><br /></span></b><span style="font-family:Georgia;">The summer between my junior and senior year of high school, I was fortunate enough to be able to go to </span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Europe</span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> for a second time. This time, we traveled to </span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Italy</span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> (my favorite), </span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Austria</span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">, and </span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Germany</span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">. The first time I went to Italy, our travels included Rome and it's surrounding suburbs, Florence, and up into the Tuscan countryside... on a side note....it was there in the little town of Montecatini, that I had my first taste of socialized medicine, when I developed a horrible skin rash due to a knee brace I had been wearing over my linen pants (the knee brace was from a 4 wheeling accident I had been involved in 2 weeks before my Europe trip!). And I had to go into the city to the local hospital, have x-rays, antibiotics, blood cultures (the doctor was worried I had developed a blood infection), and then sent to the local spa for a short round of physical and warm water therapy. The spa trip was quite the foray. There I was sitting in a hot tub wearing a swim cap (it was required, trust me, I wasn't wearing that sucker for it's stylish charm ), surrounded by pleasantly plump, older Italian women. Who chattered non-stop, and kept looking at me, to see if I agreed with whatever they were talking about. Thankfully, smiling and nodding in feigned agreement is generally, universally understood regardless of one's mother tongue. Anyway, it was quite the experience. One of which my parents paid less than $50 for, in the form of a new leg brace that could be worn <i>under</i> my linen pants, and a tube of cream, whose name, ingredients, and instructions were in Italian, and therefore I had no idea what it's purpose was. But the pharmacist made a rubbing motion with his hand hovered over my knee, so I got the point of what I was to do with it. These were purchased over the county at a small pharmacy. Everything else was...<i>"free." </i>I didn't have a long wait, the doctors I saw were very thorough. <i>They called my parents to update them, and check on me</i>. All in all, a much more pleasant experience than I have ever received at any hospital here in the States. I'm not saying socialized medicine is perfect or <span style="font-style: italic;">the answer</span> to the problems in today's US healthcare crisis. I'm not educated enough on the subject to have a very valid opinion, but I will say the experience was very interesting.<br />Wow. I got a little off topic here. So, where were we? My first trip to </span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Europe</span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> was amazing, and fun (this was the trip that included the gypsies). But it was the second trip where we visited </span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Venice</span><span style="font-family:Georgia;">, that I lost my heart to. I'll talk more about Venice later.</span><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">The point of this blog is to tell about the place I visited on that trip, that invaded my soul, and has lingered ever since.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Auschwitz II-Birkenau </span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">It is entirely strange that the two words that I would use to describe the atmosphere at that Holocaust death camp on that day, would be, both peaceful, and haunting. It is estimated that anywhere from 700,000 to 1 million, men, women, and children walked through the gates of that camp, to their ultimate deaths. My mind cannot comprehend that. I can sit here and type out those numbers, and not truly understand what that means. My husband. My mother. My father. My brother. My friends. Everybody I love. Myself. If we had happened to have been there, under those circumstances. The odds are, we would be dead. We would be there as each of us were divided into categories, and separated. More than likely, my parents at the age they are would have been sent straight to the gas chambers. My husband and my brother would be sent to work digging ditches for their bodies, or for their ashes. And me? what would I be doing? Would I have been worth anything to keep alive for a bit longer, to waste away until I was nothing but skin and bones, or would I have been taken to the "showers" and done away with as well?<br />In the cruelest sense that is hard to write, it's hard to read, it's hard to think of. So, we don't think of it. And maybe it's because we can't, maybe we can't think of and reflect on things like genocide because it's simply too hard to comprehend without going a little insane at the basic, primordial evilness of it. But it is important to remember. It's important to reflect on what damage and devastation, pure hatred, nonacceptance, and corrupt and evil power can do. Because it could happen again. It does happen.</span> That <span style="font-style: italic;">was</span> somebody's husband, somebody's parents, somebody's brother... and friends and loved ones. Somebody's.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Peace. That's a hippie word right? Tree huggers, and vegans, and liberals, and people who home school their kids, and push coexistence, peace<i> </i>is <i>their</i> word right? wrong. peace is something that every human being on every inch of this Earth should strive for, and be accountable for. Don't get me wrong. I'm a big believer in the Second Amendment. I support our troops. I sing the national anthem with abandon. I'm conservative in many of my beliefs. But I also pray from the bottom of my heart that my children would be able to grow up in the world where madness, and violence, and hate, and dominating power were not the driving forces of so much in this world. The Holocaust is the prime example of what can happen when these things are left unchecked, and when peace is not looked to as the answer.</span><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;">We walked around the grounds that day for hours taking pictures, and reading plaques and monuments. We went into the memorial museum, and looked at the pictures that were blown up to poster size so the viewer could see the look of desperation on the faces of the men and women standing behind the razor wire fences... there were no children....But more times than not, it wasn't desperation in their faces, it was a vacancy. A total lack of life and energy. And doesn't that make perfect sense?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> There was a reverent quite there that day. There were little groups of tourist here and there, from every walk of life, from every different country, speaking different languages, and yet we all wore the same mantel of grief for those who did not get to get back on a bus at the end of the day, and drive back out of the gate, and continue on with their lives. There were birds chirping, and singing, and squirrels that ran this way and that, and there was a peaceful calm that seemed somewhat ironic and out of sorts for the magnitude of what took place there 60 some odd years ago. Yes, it was peaceful. And calm, and haunting, and breathtakingly sad.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Well, now I'm depressed. Sorry if you are too. I didn't intend this post to be so dark and gloomy, but once I started thinking about it, and remembering. It just naturally took me there.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 20pt;font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMBpEZVhvpubT9TUayTNalpTzFQCyk2iFL0Fs6VUhsDswKnF85_NycK37XPOk1oq8EA_l4_5dmE6iiCak5ogSqYMQYPp1J8y8zLxxdmyIsR8J3U1qtO0dk6O_AmIiN5s2K5apWpIM/s1600/anne-frank-s-house.jpg"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></a></span></p><h1><span><span style=";font-family:Georgia;font-size:12pt;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjheVrDqJGb1ZpSm2_So-CoTgD8gbWACAklMRrrz2oG9OMq3MqqO5LfhRh3dSf8RNugRLXL96BAFbm8QpTc_VRX0NGZGAGyusZ9bq7mgpjxNoHHy5d8aoU4OAeBv5LWF7Gh3LTtyqPr/s1600/anne-frank-s-house.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjheVrDqJGb1ZpSm2_So-CoTgD8gbWACAklMRrrz2oG9OMq3MqqO5LfhRh3dSf8RNugRLXL96BAFbm8QpTc_VRX0NGZGAGyusZ9bq7mgpjxNoHHy5d8aoU4OAeBv5LWF7Gh3LTtyqPr/s320/anne-frank-s-house.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581377062321681618" border="0" /></a></span></span></h1> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><br /><b><i><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Are people really good at heart? I'd like to think so. I hope so. I pray it's so.</span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-24453400222175349742011-03-01T10:06:00.005-05:002011-03-01T10:25:59.384-05:00Day ? : I Believe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQ1qyOE6dLmp63f7RZSepAGDk1Uor9k5RP-E2op3k1ad18VbBArgMl3NCWZPLZjk-QZ7YdBSd2qDMV0Jjf1vxgFQiidjpsx2j7H3nvO6aCSxkvJCjQqJ-L7JRq4rn_FBQszF9UyG3/s1600/Stapler.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQ1qyOE6dLmp63f7RZSepAGDk1Uor9k5RP-E2op3k1ad18VbBArgMl3NCWZPLZjk-QZ7YdBSd2qDMV0Jjf1vxgFQiidjpsx2j7H3nvO6aCSxkvJCjQqJ-L7JRq4rn_FBQszF9UyG3/s320/Stapler.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579128224656141746" border="0" /></a><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /><br />I have absolutely no idea what day this is....<br /><br /><br />I believe in God, in Jesus. I believe that there is no more special and magnificent gift than the gift of forgiveness and eternal life. And if you don’t know Him yet, just know that He is waiting for you. He is right beside you. You are n.e.v.e.r. alone. He was, He is, He always will be.<br /><br />I believe in sunrises and sunsets.<br /><br />I believe that you can always spot a person who likes to drama and gossip because they will always be the first to say how much they hate drama and gossip. I believe the truth is, they only hate it when people talk about them, but they love talking about other people.<br /><br />I believe the world has enough hate, but not enough love.<br /><br />I believe that we are only given one life... and if you don't live it to the best of your ability than you have no one to blame but yourself.<br /><br />I believe that people can want to change for the good, but sometimes they just choose not to. I believe that is unfortunate.<br /><br />I believe that being angry at somebody only hurts <span style="font-style: italic;">your</span> own heart.<br /><br />I believe in happy endings.<br /><br />I believe there is nothing sweeter than a baby's smile.<br /><br />I believe that no matter where you are, just before the sun goes down, the world is never more beautiful.<br /><br />I believe sometimes you have to call a spade a spade, (quit trying to make it more than it is.)<br /><br />I believe that dogs really are man's best friend.<br /><br />I believe that more people should quit complaining, and actually <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span>.<br /><br />I believe that being politically correct is overrated.<br />That being said, I believe more people need to open their hearts and quit being so judgmental.<br /><br />I believe in Karma. What you do, will come back on you. Good or bad.<br /><br />I believe people don't give more, because they think "well, what can my dollar do?" If we all just gave anyway, what <span style="font-style: italic;">couldn't</span> it do?<br /><br />I believe in the power and majesty of the Great Outdoors. <span style="font-weight: bold;">get out in it</span>.<br /><br />I believe I live in the greatest country in the world. I also believe that that goes to "our" heads sometimes.<br /><br />I believe you have to stand for something, or you will be led around and told what to do your whole life.<br /><br />I believe that people who abuse animals, children, and the elderly should be taken out back with a shotgun and a shovel, and done away with. (I don't know if I mean that literally, but maybe I do)<br /><br />I believe good health is worth more than wealth.<br /><br />I believe reducing, reusing, and recycling is way <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">underrated.</span><br /><br />I believe social networking is just another way for nosy people to be nosier. (myself included).<br /><br />I believe God gave us the ability to laugh and the ability to cry, for the same reason. Release. And to laugh so hard you cry is the best feeling in the world.<br /><br />I believe in make-believe.<br /><br />I believe in having no regrets.<br /><br />I believe that when life throws a stick in the spokes, the only thing you can do is abandon the bicycle, and keep moving forward on your own two feet.<br /><br />I believe that caring too much about what other people think of you will only hold you back.<br /><br />I believe in the question "Why?"<br /><br />I believe that regardless of how much you love, marriage takes work.<br /><br />I believe in naps. (like, big time believe)<br /><br />I believe in the power of words and positive thinking.<br /><br />I believe in taking responsibility for your own actions, and teaching your children to do the same.<br /><br />I believe in Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.<br /><br />I believe in saying you're sorry...and meaning it.<br /><br />I believe in self-confidence, but more in humility.<br /><br />I believe in peace, tolerance, and turning the other cheek.<br /><br />I believe in the restorative nature of a hot bath and good book.<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >I believe in seizing the day.</span><br /><br />xoxo,<br />asmAnne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-11049825176844359652011-02-18T12:41:00.032-05:002011-02-22T14:38:11.341-05:00Day 12: "Two Thumbs Up!"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkT8QfrD09dIcUw2PlLu6c_CizOZfIOdMrVe6r05Gx-nGPfYQtHbxWOVmdYrp-v2t8bA510pdABD9g_oVTS2ZGdoFM_qoMVSEoPQBhKXDYvhlVsDfifZ9IcmkmJ7C8jS8kTtrIf5Tm/s1600/two+thumbs+up.jpeg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkT8QfrD09dIcUw2PlLu6c_CizOZfIOdMrVe6r05Gx-nGPfYQtHbxWOVmdYrp-v2t8bA510pdABD9g_oVTS2ZGdoFM_qoMVSEoPQBhKXDYvhlVsDfifZ9IcmkmJ7C8jS8kTtrIf5Tm/s320/two+thumbs+up.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576598821684823170" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Day 12: Favorite Movies</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Australia</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">- There was so much going on for the first 5 minutes of the movie it made my head spin, but once it settled in, and the story started to unfold, I was captivated. I love the Australian slang/colloquialism that peppers the movie. Also, I want to take <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Nullah</span> home with me.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br />Legends of the Fall</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> - I love the cinematography of this movie, the setting (Montana has my heart, it just doesn't know it yet), and the plot. If Gone With the Wind was a Western, this would be it.</span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br /><br />August Rush- </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">A movie about an elf-like orphan musical prodigy "calling" to his birth parents with his guitar? um, yes please. Heartwarming and sappy. I love it.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br />The Sandlot</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">- Nostalgic. Host to one of the greatest movie quotes of all time, "you're killing me smalls"</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br />Practical Magic</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> - that house.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Son In Law- </span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">One of the only movies I will watch when it plays on cable.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br />8 Seconds</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">- I have a thing for cowboys, and wranglers, and good manners.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br />Cold Mountain</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">- another epic, drama filled movie that I am in love with.</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> However. </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Renee <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Zellweger</span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">. </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">I cringed every time she opened her mouth. A British native (Jude Law) pulled off a stronger and more believable southern accent than Texas born and bred Renee did. Love the soundtrack.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Goonies</span>- </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">because <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Goonies</span> never say die! Duh.</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br /><br />Fried Green Tomatoes- </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Female empowerment without all the bra burning. </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Thelma & Louise</span> set in the Depression era south without the ultimate plunge over the ravine. Feel good with a gritty edge. Southern. Honey bees. Kathy Bates. BBQ.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Steel Magnolias</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">- I've heard the dialogue in this movie described as "each of the women talk like they're reading a bumper sticker."...I'll take one of each. I laugh and cry </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">every.time.</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> I watch this movie.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Little Women</span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">- It brought Louisa May Alcott's story to life for me. Beautiful film-making.</span><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Shawshank</span> Redemption</span>- Morality. Camaraderie. Redemption. Morgan. Freeman.<br /></p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Forest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Gump</span></span>- There's a reason this is one of the most successful movies ever made. As "comforting as an afternoon nap, but also as refreshing."</p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Pretty Woman</span>- A modern day Cinderella? He pays her $3000 and they fall in love... Hollywood. But I still love it. Her laugh when Richard <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Gere</span> closes the jewel box on her hand, makes me giggle every time. And when she tells the snotty sales lady she "has to go shopping now".... favorite part.</p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Almost Famous</span>- anybody with a love affair with music gets.this. movie.<br /></p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Amelia- </span>adorable. charming. french.<br /></p><em style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">The Sound of Music</em><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">- </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> it's a musical. meaning they sing their dialogue. I think we should do this in real life. I think somebody telling you ...♫ you're a jerk, and your feet smell♪..., set to a tune is easier to take than somebody just saying it out right. anyway. I can quote every line and every song of this movie. It's the one musical that I can honestly say I love. I loved it so much that I went on a Sound of Music tour in Austria, and </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">liked</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Love Actually</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">- romantic. entertaining. fun. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">british</span> accents. Only problem? I could never watch it with my parents. if you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about.</span><br /><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Pride & Prejudice-</span> lovely. in every sense of the word.</p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Boondock</span> Saints</span>- a moral black hole, but it definitely taps into a secret desire for vigilantism.</p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Superbad</span></span>- another one I can't watch with my parents. but.i.crack.up.<br /></p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Euro Trip-</span> funnier than it should be.</p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The Holiday-</span> a little predictable, but overall one of my favorites. </p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Beauty and the Beast</span>- talking/singing/dancing household wares. princess dresses. happy ending. classic Disney. favorite.</p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Chocolat</span></span>- fabulous. teaches about tolerance and forgiveness. and how chocolate can cure all ills <---- I get it. </p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I'm sure there are more, but that's all I can come up with at the moment.</p><p style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">What are some of <span style="font-style: italic;">your</span> favorites?<br /></p><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" ></span></span>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-7045098232368922102011-02-17T09:20:00.016-05:002011-02-17T11:45:09.646-05:00Day 11: Bag Lady<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Day 11: What's In Your Purse</span><br /><br />The more appropriate question here would be <span style="font-style: italic;">what's not</span>?<br />I think I might have been a squirrel in my past life, because I don't like to throw anything away. I'm not a hoarder.....yet. Handsome says I'm toeing the line. BUT I hereby solemnly swear you will never find any dead cats that are so paper thin they make a crinkling noise and you can see through them, in my purse, or my possession for that matter (poor kitties).<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> This is not my purse. I wish it was though.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy3zoTzQTiNy_b-OCQ3mEJuKIhzruMjF7mPjSlD1tVpnJJAVZGt4EpT9-mImnOdVjxvaTbvzpCEdmJDXtteM0ltdvjtdeBfcPOsw_YVOYGRG35ZmWwFyLH6a0bck_ZC-7n6ieQElPJ/s1600/Anthro+Bag.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy3zoTzQTiNy_b-OCQ3mEJuKIhzruMjF7mPjSlD1tVpnJJAVZGt4EpT9-mImnOdVjxvaTbvzpCEdmJDXtteM0ltdvjtdeBfcPOsw_YVOYGRG35ZmWwFyLH6a0bck_ZC-7n6ieQElPJ/s320/Anthro+Bag.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574696542231813074" border="0" /></a><br />I'd also like to call this little sweet gem mine as well....<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgeOfBJtoH0s80ZOlGPyaRX0IF2sWKLVkBZcU4VfsoHKl0GG8iE2ndFT1_lgO8RqlVibzJOCrbfJb_K4OTKOvTvHN1YENpIlvb8Q_6H6GCxVZhpzvdfRr8LRDxhi7jL_c80NiA05aD/s1600/Great+and+Small+Coin+Purse+-+Anthro+28+19+Feb+2010.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgeOfBJtoH0s80ZOlGPyaRX0IF2sWKLVkBZcU4VfsoHKl0GG8iE2ndFT1_lgO8RqlVibzJOCrbfJb_K4OTKOvTvHN1YENpIlvb8Q_6H6GCxVZhpzvdfRr8LRDxhi7jL_c80NiA05aD/s320/Great+and+Small+Coin+Purse+-+Anthro+28+19+Feb+2010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574696396785578594" border="0" /></a>and, this one....<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60d2jXcEGwAim5Y9SK7ZE7daLN1rd61JH4GeEekZLANaISx6Uyz0J_qWtFyNpE_XEXeH-ehYAslTwuHrNh81RCNZUFNBIcDHn3Quij264YwOLrwBOxpjKPyLf6k-mA7n1-Zlaavqk/s1600/sail-away-bag.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60d2jXcEGwAim5Y9SK7ZE7daLN1rd61JH4GeEekZLANaISx6Uyz0J_qWtFyNpE_XEXeH-ehYAslTwuHrNh81RCNZUFNBIcDHn3Quij264YwOLrwBOxpjKPyLf6k-mA7n1-Zlaavqk/s320/sail-away-bag.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574699424688585794" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">okay, I could do this all day. <span style="font-style: italic;">moving on.</span><br /><br /></div>I just dumped <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> purse out on my desk.... <span style="font-weight: bold;">Good.Lord.</span> I was even a little bit taken back by the amount of stuff in there... and that's hard to do.<br /><br />*3 tubes of lip gloss....all pink<br />*86¢ (that's enough to make a phone call right?)<br />*2 Matchbooks from Canoe (where we went to eat for Valentine's Day)<br />*1 Comb<br />*1 Makeup bag (with it's own set of clutter problems)<br />*4 Packets of Twinings of London English Breakfast Tea (I love my hot tea!)<br />*1 Set of Keys... ah! that makes me feel better, at least I didn't lock them in the car. I <span style="font-style: italic;">was </span>a little worried about that.<br />*1 Wallet with 500 receipts sticking out of either side.<br />*1 Small bottle of hand lotion in my signature scent...BVLGARI Eau Parfumée au thé blanc<br />*Enough paint swatches, in a multitude of colors, to tape over all the yellow in my kitchen.<br />*A print out of the haircut that I want (that I <span style="font-style: italic;">still</span> have not made an appointment for)<br />*17 Napkins (if you feel the need to wipe your hands or blow your nose throughout the day, feel free to ask for one... I obviously have plenty)<br />*1 News bulletin from the church we visited this past Sunday... actually I have 2 of these. Must have grabbed J's and stuffed his in there too.<br />*1 Mini Snickers wrapper <span style="font-style: italic;">sans</span> the Snickers<br />*1 Bottle of hand sanitizer<br />*3 paper clips<br />*All 3 of my dogs rabies tags that I keep meaning to put on their collars... I honestly don't have a clue why or how they wound up in my bag, but it totally explains the jingling noise I've heard emanating from my purse every time I pick it up lately.<br />*1 sticky note with the word <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">call</span> underlined and exclamated, but no further information than that. It's in my handwriting so it had to have been me who wrote it. Preetty sure whoever I was supposed to call never heard from me... hope they're not mad!<br />*1 USB cord for my camera<br /><br />It seems my memory is going, since a lot of this stuff is not ringing any bells on how it actually wound up in my bag... rabies tags, sticky note, cord.... no clue.<br /><br />*1 Roll of tape in it's dispenser. We're talking the large, office desktop size dispenser. I was posting up Missing Dog fliers in my neighborhood, and obviously thought my bag was the perfect place to put the tape when I was finished with it.<br />*3 Missing Dog fliers. I ran out of signs in the neighborhood to post them to. (These are not for me, all our dogs are present and accounted for... a lady in the neighborhood down the road from us is missing her pup)<br />*And last but not least, a pair of pearl earrings that I thought I had lost.... so <span style="font-style: italic;">that's</span> where they've been <span style="font-size:130%;">this whole time</span>!<br /><br />Moral of this story? If I have misplaced something, the first place I should look is inside my purse.<br /><br />xoxo,<br />asmAnne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-56015102406107076262011-02-15T10:46:00.057-05:002011-02-15T16:39:15.260-05:00Day 10: Bee Charmer<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdMlNHNVOUIhWKa2qj_c6b3xKYa2zSqSenLM4p_9vP0Bwtg1i-R-wMD_m5JeyB66TFzYlxtQqiCyg-C4C3FB7OFMJqpsNjCNd_PsysthZNWLqefnjopoT7hpmsS-simNU4qexBnkg/s1600/bucketlist.gif"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdMlNHNVOUIhWKa2qj_c6b3xKYa2zSqSenLM4p_9vP0Bwtg1i-R-wMD_m5JeyB66TFzYlxtQqiCyg-C4C3FB7OFMJqpsNjCNd_PsysthZNWLqefnjopoT7hpmsS-simNU4qexBnkg/s320/bucketlist.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574013627209214226" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 10: Goals</span><br /><br />I'm glad nobody is holding me to this "30 Days" thing, cause I'd be in some kind of trouble if they were.<br /><br />This is going to be more like a bucket list rather than simply goals....<br /><br />I have a <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">ton</span> </span>of things I want to accomplish in my life before the good Lord calls me home.<br />As a Christian, my greatest wish should be to be sitting at the feet of our everlasting Father, surrounded by His heavenly saints and angels.... and that is of course, my ultimate "goal," but I'm just selfish, and <span style="font-style: italic;">human</span> enough to want to be there, <span style="font-style: italic;">after</span> a full, happy, life well-lived. But who knows really what that means anyway? If I am called home today, I would be okay with that too.... I believe the choices I have made for my life have put me right where I'm meant to be... and knowing and accepting <span style="font-style: italic;">that,</span> is a life well lived in my book.<br /><br />-------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />1. Become a mother... and watch my children grow, prosper, be happy, accept & <span style="font-weight: bold;">know</span> our God all their lives. This is a two birds with one stone kinda thing, because I want to give my husband children and my parents grandchildren!<br /><br />2. A friend recently told me that one of the prayers for her life would be to have a glimpse of Heaven, but without all the scary stuff that usually accompanies those types of experiences. I feel that some days, I <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span> seen glimpses of Heaven. When I see striking, color filled sunset, or sunrise. When I have had a good, long, soul cleansing cry and prayer time and my soul just feels so fresh and so clean... but I know what she means. A truly awe-inspiring, miraculous glimpse of where God lives outside my heart. <span style="font-style: italic;">Paradise.</span> Yeah, I'd like to see that too.... ("glimpse" is the key word here... for those of you not listening! ;-)<br /><br />3. I'd love to find my true niche in life. What am I supposed to be doing?? Am I doing it, but don't even realize it? I am thankful for each and every blessing in my life. Again, I believe that any choice I have made in the past has been utilized by God to put me right where I am supposed to be, and even if I am discontented in a current position, I am there for.a.reason. But I'd love to wake up one morning, and just have the satisfaction of loving where I am in my life. This really pertains to my job folks, I am truly happy in every other aspect.<br /><br />3. That being said... I would love to be a children's photographer... But I am having to teach myself <span style="font-style: italic;">everything...<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span>and it can be overwhelming and daunting, most of the time. Also, everybody out there with a digital camera is a "photographer" these days, and that is intimidating also. How do I break through that and establish myself in a flooded market when I'm not all that much better (yet!!!) than the competition? It's nerve wracking sometimes.<br /><br />4. Also, I've always had an obsession with pretty papers... stationary, note cards, sticky note pads... If it's pretty, i love it. I have kept literally every card, invitation, and thank you note I have ever received. I would love to design a set of paper products fashioned with vintage and eclectic graphics. I have several that I have put together... but am really too nervous to show anybody. Also, I don't know where to start finding a printing source in order to produce my products that is not so expensive I price myself out of the market I'm going for. The goal here? Design, produce, and effectively market a suit of paper products that reflect my love of color and vintage design.<br /><br />5. Carry my dog Mr. Butler around in my purse on Rodeo Dr. like I'm somebody (and have him <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Not</span> poop in it)<br /><br />6. <span style="font-weight: bold;">GET OUR HOUSE TO REFLECT WHO WE ARE AS A COUPLE.</span> Before I'm dead or so old and crotchety I can no longer hold a paint brush. This is a biggie, and probably the easiest of my goals in terms of labor and actual method. However, I cannot seem to pin down the exact look I am going for in terms of color. Some days I'd love to paint everything turquoise and chartreuse, and other days I want everything white and creams... finding a balance between these, and making sure Handsome can live there happily too? That is a biggie.<br /><br />7. A garden. I want one. Why? <span style="visibility: visible;" id="search"> “Because that's what Southern women do – we wear funny looking hats and grow things in the dirt" <em>Favorite move line e.v.e.r</em></span> I also love the idea of producing and eating my own food. I think this day in age, people depend too much on things other than themselves... And while I don't plan on making my own clothes, and start walking everywhere, gardening is great way to really take pride in the accomplishment of something you've done. I'd love to eventually have a green house, but I'll settle for a patch of earth that will grow tomatoes, squash, and beans. I'm starting my seedlings tomorrow, and hopefully this weekend, Handsome and I can get outside with the tractor and start tilling up our packed down red, Georgia clay, and start preparing the ground for growth. Will definitely be blogging about that adventure!<br /><br />8. Become a Bee Charmer. I have had a private, life long obsession with bees, Honeybees to be exact. Although I don't like when they fly so close to my face that I can see my reflection their eyeballs, I'm not one to freak out and start swatting at them when they buzz by for a closer look. I would love to have a set of hives and cultivate the honey. Besides Ouiser Boudreaux in Steel Magnolias, one of my other favorite characters is <span style="visibility: visible;" id="search">Idgie Threadgoode the tom boy, free-spiritited, bee charmer in <span style="font-style: italic;">Fried Green Tomatoes</span>.<br /><br />9. Travel. I want to travel with my husband, and experience worlds outside our own existence. I am incredibly lucky to have been able to travel way past the county line before I was 20 years old. I've been all over the United States, and have been to the Bahamas, France, Spain, Italy, Austria, and Germany. I've seen other cultures, ways of life, ideas, values, and customs. I've seen sunrises and sunsets over places other than Emerson, Georgia. I have breathed in the air, swam in the waters, eaten and drunk things that are different from what I've always known. I haven't stayed at these places long, but long enough to see and appreciate that there is a great wide world out there... and I want more of it.<br /><br />10. Lead at least one person to Christ. I don't necessarily feel that entails knocking on people's doors, or "preaching" to people about how they are not living a Godly life and are bound for Hell... I mean, maybe that's what it takes sometimes, but that has often turned <span style="font-style: italic;">me </span>off in the past. I want to live a life that is for Christ, that is open to Him, and one where He can use me so that others may know of His goodness and glory. I want to be a light in the world.<br /><br />11. I want to learn how to sew. Although I don't have the time it takes to sew my own clothes, I'd love to <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> how to do it. Sometimes I go shopping with a particular clothing item in mind, I can either a) never find anything close to it or b) it never look exactly like what I want it to. It'd would be so awesome if I could just go home and "whip a little something together." So when people ask about it, I could say, "what? this old thing?" haha. just kidding... maybe.<br /><br />12. Learn to dance. Not the stuff people call "dancing" these days. That stuff is generally vulgar and disgusting. And if you turned the music off, you would really look extremely ridiculous. I want to learn how to ballroom dance, and salsa dance. Those types of dancing are beautiful. You could turn the music off, and still be moved by it.<br /><br />13. Take up a ballet class as a form of exercise, poise, agility, and strength training. Somebody in C'ville should start an exercise ballet class.<br /><br />14. Learn to speak another language fluently. I was almost there in college... had I pursued it and used it a bit more, I could probably be pretty dern good at Italian by now. But you don't use it, you lose it, and that's the case with </span><span id="result_box" class="short_text" lang="it"><span title="Click for alternate translations" class="hps">il mio</span> <span title="Click for alternate translations" class="hps">utilizzo</span> <span title="Click for alternate translations" class="hps">italiana (my Italian usage). Would love to get it back.<br /><br />15. Recycle more. We only have one life to live. And until they set up condos on Mars, we also have only one Place to live. Gotta take care of what we have been entrusted with.<br /><br />16. Learn to be more forgiving and less sensitive.<br /><br />17. Take a survival course that teaches you how to live off the land, (with the less is more approach), and be more aware of your surroundings. At some point in my life, I would like to take this a step further, and "live off the grid" for a time. The wilds of Montana has been calling our names for awhile now...<br /><br />18. I know that true peace will never happen on Earth. The majority of humans don't truly understand or accept the concept of peace... they (we?) are too selfish for that... but I would love to live long enough to see some sort of peace in the world.<br /><br />19. Be involved in a mission. I would love to bring the Gospel to a foreign soil, but hope to be at peace with it, if God decides to use me in my own community.<br /><br />20. Dry our sheets and clothes on a clothesline in my backyard. Silly? maybe. Something I've always wanted to do? yes. May have to get Jason to string that line up this weekend....<br /><br />21. Buy some Tom's Shoes. I think they are pretty much ugly as a mud fence, but I get a new pair of footwear, and so does someone else in the world. Win!<br /><br />22. Be debt free at an early age. J and I are pretty economical with our money. We still enjoy our lives and doing things, but we aren't a slave to our possessions. We don't have credit card debt, we are making plans to lower our car payment, and we are putting more than the average into our 401k. Would love to be able to buy/pay off the house, and become truly debt free before age 40.... we'll see.<br /><br />23. Get a new hair cut. This seems like a silly goal, but I have been growing my hair out for about 2 years now. Always with the intention of cutting and donating it in honor of my mom's battle with cancer. I just haven't done it yet. And although I'm grateful for my hair.... it is driving me crazy. It's everywhere. It gets wrapped around my face when I sleep;</span></span><span id="result_box" class="short_text" lang="it"><span title="Click for alternate translations" class="hps"> It gets wrapped around J's face when <span style="font-style: italic;">he </span>sleeps</span></span><span id="result_box" class="short_text" lang="it"><span title="Click for alternate translations" class="hps">. I wake up half suffocated with it tied around my neck. I.can't.take.it.anymore. Making that appointment today....<br /><br />24. Learn to cook... and like it. I am not a cook. It doesn't come naturally at all. And when I've tried to "wing it" in the past, and just throw in a dash of this and that, it came off completely inedible. On a good day, I'll only scrape half the food off of J's plate.... on the bad days, the dogs won't even eat it.<br /><br />25. Become less of a homebody. I like being at home. I really and truly do. I like moving from my bed, to the couch, to the chair on the deck, back to the couch, to my bed. I'm the friend my friends always rolled their eyes at, and complained I was such a bore. Don't get me wrong, I love to go out with friends, and have drinks, and a good time, but I also like to be at home in my pj's by 10:30... I would like to do less of that, maybe... and enjoy being <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">OUT</span> more.<br /><br />26. Go on a cross country road trip. I did this once with my best friend. It was the summer between 7th and 8th grade. We road out with her dad, and sister and <span style="font-style: italic;">her</span> friend to California to pick up a horse. We spent the majority of the road trip hanging out in the living quarters of the horse trailer, which was probably illegal, and more than slightly dangerous, but I think her dad could only take so much of "are we there yet" from 4 tweens. Watching the world go by from the bunkhouse of the trailer, we saw way more of where we had been than where we were going. Would love to do that again. But not in a horse trailer, but definitely with my best friend!<br /><br />27. Make my mark on the world. This is a biggie, and I have absolutely no idea how I will accomplish this one. Or even if I will. I think people's obsession with the rich, and famous, is not so much the rich part, but the famous part. And what that really means. It means they won't be forgotten. It means they made a mark. However good or infamous one is, if they are known throughout the world, they will continue to be known throughout the world. I think I have a fear of being forgotten when I am gone. That's a big thing for me to admit. But there it is.<br /><br />28. Help the homeless in my community. Every time I see somebody wrapped up in crusty, dirty, old blankets under random bridges, my eyes well up with tears and I feel incredibly guilty about my life. I will almost <span style="font-style: italic;">always </span>give extra cash or change I have to a begger on the street. I don't have any problems with that. Some people say I shouldn't do that because they will just go buy drugs or booze with it, but my thinking is, I give with an open heart, what they do with the money is between them and God. I heard from a friend about a woman who puts together little "hygiene pack" for the homeless and she carries a few with them in her car all the time. They contain socks, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a bottle of water, travel aspirin, washcloth, bar of soap, vitamin c tablets, hand sanitizer, comb, rubber bands, high protein bars, a pack of cards, a few pieces of paper for letters, and stamped envelopes, and a $5 bill. These would cost a little bit of money to get together, but I could only imagine how grateful I would be if I received one of these little packs if I had nowhere to go, and most people passed me on by without so much as a second glance, much less a little bit of help, and room in their prayers at night.<br /><br />29. Surprise my parents with a ____? I have no idea. Something fun and unexpected. Gotta think about that one!<br /><br />30. Surprise my Husband with a bright red Dump truck with chrome side panels. On our first day and from time to time in between, he's told me he's always wanted a dump truck to drive around... must be the little kid in him? I'd like to get him one.<br /><br />31. Become an aunt to my brother's kids. He's 21, not married, no girlfriend, and totally living the life of a 21 year old boy. That's okay. I <span style="font-style: italic;">want</span> him to. But I also want him to marry a nice, sweet girl, who adores and loves him, from a good family, who will give me nieces and nephew to love and spoil.<br /><br />32. Have a small retreat somewhere in the mountains. (Must include a bubbling brook.)<br /><br />33. See in concert, the following, not necessarily together (but that would be so cool), Bob Seger, Elton John, and Van Morrison, before <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">they</span></span> die.<br /><br />34. Be a grandma... so I can love 'em up, feed them tons of crap that's bad for their teeth and their energy level, and then send them home to their parents.<br /><br />35. Stand inside of a Redwood tree before they are gone. I'm pretty sure I've done this with my parents when I was a kid, but I'd like to do it again, and remember it.<br /><br />36. Buy back the family property in Brunswick that has our Family cemetery on it, then rebuild the house for reunions and getaways.<br /><br />37. Learn about my dad's family. We have literally overload information on my mom's side, but I know very little about my dad's people. Knowing "<span style="font-style: italic;">where</span>" and "<span style="font-style: italic;">who</span>" I came from is very important to me.<br /><br />38. Get our sailboat <span style="font-style: italic;">Cirrus</span> in the water, and sail her to Margaritaville.<br /><br />39. Do something completely out of character, and maybe even illegal (eeek!!), like I don't know... wipe my muddy feet on the carpet in the oval office, spitting out my gum to where Queen Elizabeth walks on it and it gets stuck to her shoe, cheat on my taxes (but not get caught!), You know... stick it to tha' man! actually... I'm feel a panic attack coming on just thinking about these things... nevermind.<br /><br />40. Go camping in every State park in Georgia, and then move on from there...<br /><br /><br />41. Raise our children in the same house and on the same land where my brother and I were raised. It's perfect for children. It's safe, secluded, and full of sweet memories. Memories from my childhood, and memories that my husband and I are creating there now. I hope and PRAY that it's in God's plans for us.<br /><br />42. Eat more fiber.<br /><br />43. Learn to <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">be happy in the moment</span>. I love plans. I love <span style="font-style: italic;">planning</span> things, and the excitement that builds up to the next occasion. I often find myself saying, "I can't wait till Saturday" or "I can't wait till 5 o'clock" (okay, I will probably always want it to be 5 o'clock!), or "I can't wait till _____" <--- fill in the blank with any of the possible millions of things that I find myself wishing away time for. I want to learn to revel in the moment, to leave the excitement of tomorrow in tomorrow... and be excited for the today. To not wish my time away to hurry up to the next big event in my life, but to really and truly love the here and now. Okay, I could go on and on, but my eyes are starting to cross, and I'm getting a headache from thinking about this. In case you didn't deduce this for yourself, I have <span style="font-style: italic;">A LOT </span>I want to do in my life, with my life. But I am grateful for each and every breath I <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span> been given, and will count myself extremely lucky and blessed for each and every breath I<span style="font-style: italic;"> will</span> be given.<br /><br /><br />xoxo,<br />asm<br /><br />ps- <span style="font-style: italic;">If</span> you hear of some tour where Van, Elton, & Bob are going to be performing live, in concert, & together! buy me a ticket... I'll pay you back. fo' rillz.<br /><br /><br /></span></span><span style="visibility: visible;" id="search"> </span>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-82586028068157155612011-02-10T11:14:00.000-05:002011-02-10T14:06:08.581-05:00Day 9: Mom & Dad<span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 9: Your Parents</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNccQUVo3gKDIfxjTOMUwnaAeMEZtNKzvLepJg0obXWf8Yf609kTMzayqIwrfL2kamQw8ETBHrWFhnFk4wKM0wH9tBDjg1ICmCV3wR9uGkaDvonJiG1OG4743YGdcclXrhRsc7X2Z/s1600/momdad3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNccQUVo3gKDIfxjTOMUwnaAeMEZtNKzvLepJg0obXWf8Yf609kTMzayqIwrfL2kamQw8ETBHrWFhnFk4wKM0wH9tBDjg1ICmCV3wR9uGkaDvonJiG1OG4743YGdcclXrhRsc7X2Z/s320/momdad3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572131693430595506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">"Let's raise children who won't have to recover from their childhood."</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" > - Pam Leo</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><br />Where do I start?<br /><br />God, in all His infinite wisdom, gifted me with an incredible set of parents. One of my greatest wishes is that one day, Jason and I can be at least half the parents to our children as mine were and continue to be to me.<br />Throughout my life they have been a constant source of strength and encouragement. They've seen me at my absolute worst, and still managed to love me unconditionally.<br />I have seen <span style="font-style: italic;">them</span> happy, sad, frustrated, uplifted, disappointed, and proud. I have seen them struggle, and overcome, and every other condition in between. Along with my brother, there are few memories from my past that do not include them in it.<br /><br />When I think of somebody who is infinitely kind spirited, compassionate, and charitable, my mom immediately comes to my mind. And I daily try to love, honor, and trust the Lord in the complete, and unassuming way she does. Trusting His plans for her life, seems to be an unquestionable trait of hers, and it is one that I struggle with. She gives monetary, and material gifts with an open heart, even at times when a more economical person would not, with the full faith that God will provide her and my dad with assistance in others ways and other times. <span style="font-style: italic;">He always has.</span><br />She has cool hands, that are soft like butter. And she hums gospel songs, when she vacuums, and on long car rides, and when she cooks. She does it <span style="font-style: italic;">a lot</span>. She is a cancer survivor, and my greatest inspiration on how to handle trials and tribulations in my own life. When going through treatment, she had my dad shave her head, and she never wore a wig. She's not perfect (I did get my temper from her), but she is perfectly beautiful in spirit, and presence. Her battle with cancer opened my eyes to the fragility of the human life. The experience we had, has definitely helped me to better appreciate, the weight of each moment, of each breath I take, and the time I spend with those that possess my heart.<br /><br />My daddy, he was the first man in my life, and the one that I measure all others against. (I am so very lucky that God blessed me with a husband that has so many traits that I need and desire from the love of my life.) He is strong, and resolute, he is honorable in the purest sense, uncompromising, and loyal. He can literally do anything with his hands it seems. He's a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">McGuyver</span> for sure. I've never seen anything broken that he can't fix. They definitely don't make them like him anymore. I never knew what a maintenance man, plumber, or electrician looked like till I went to college. Actually, I did... he was daddy. He can do it all.<br />I used to dance on his feet. He would throw me up and catch me, and I felt like I could fly to the moon. I don't think I can go to the moon anymore, but <span style="font-style: italic;">he</span> still thinks I can.<br />Again, he's not perfect, (and boy have I heard some stories about the <span style="font-style: italic;">younger</span> him!!), but he has taught me so much over my life... not the least of which to check my oil once a week...(it's the life on the engine! and hey, the Bronco is still rocking right along). He is a good man. The best kind of man. And he's my daddy.<br /><br />I have my mamas flash-pan quick temper, that sometimes explodes at the most inopportune moments, (I also like to be right...<span style="font-style: italic;">all the time</span>), and I can be pretty set in my ways like my daddy, but I like to think the good, important, positive aspects of my character are from the greatest role models in my life.<br /><br />Because they have made such a huge impression on me, I sometimes have a hard time separating myself from their lead, and feeling a need to check with them before making many decisions in my life. But one thing that my mom has constantly said throughout my life is that, she will know she and dad did good, if my brother and I can go out in the world, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">on our own</span><span style="font-style: italic;">,</span> set our own goals, and succeed. With my husband's help, I'm working on it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This is mama around age 7.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLOrfV9MDkTQd4Q9pyZbK54cp04HJuoUJ4UALtjiZrpQShduCNdxUd6XU_zd6TnLYETs7ILjmmndIEgLhxwgFg0hgVPmtQCsvXEcf7YP1DbF7GHEJ6y-_cOCuLtRbrAQMgU48c63K/s1600/mama.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLOrfV9MDkTQd4Q9pyZbK54cp04HJuoUJ4UALtjiZrpQShduCNdxUd6XU_zd6TnLYETs7ILjmmndIEgLhxwgFg0hgVPmtQCsvXEcf7YP1DbF7GHEJ6y-_cOCuLtRbrAQMgU48c63K/s320/mama.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572116833075420114" border="0" /></a><br />This is mama at 18... she looks like a movie star.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikpW4dMrhLVjilIpN_DLoIx6eUeY7XF0Sy7cc_nTbdw3bNChkqIPwdEFjT_53x3d8yzM4GaokXAKw_9pfYIgh-I7NFLcSZCXj6l6IrVuFoOm4bpdjMJH19lLFVUBNxMNU6w5tcH6Xw/s1600/mama.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikpW4dMrhLVjilIpN_DLoIx6eUeY7XF0Sy7cc_nTbdw3bNChkqIPwdEFjT_53x3d8yzM4GaokXAKw_9pfYIgh-I7NFLcSZCXj6l6IrVuFoOm4bpdjMJH19lLFVUBNxMNU6w5tcH6Xw/s320/mama.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572117810297902002" border="0" /></a><br />This is my daddy around age 6... isn't he cute?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDP5WmHnJBe2qH1sy-YUUH1vD41yuZyHiQPeAHX4452TLuW_wv350ogtiVQf3_7RhedYLt02l_-XVDFRuKDEI74Gj9vBcLB3KvFiNkjclbLacxNc2JrlQbXpMZV5G38WU3HEr0FJp/s1600/Scan0001-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDP5WmHnJBe2qH1sy-YUUH1vD41yuZyHiQPeAHX4452TLuW_wv350ogtiVQf3_7RhedYLt02l_-XVDFRuKDEI74Gj9vBcLB3KvFiNkjclbLacxNc2JrlQbXpMZV5G38WU3HEr0FJp/s320/Scan0001-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572118754549324738" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">About the same age.... I just love this one.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOA7TkVkEndTdHXtEA4K4LNFjiWrUYcnF2tHW324XJCaHY6hITs5_x1cvqxoI5gVjmj9xkuyqGLE-xi6KAkMKjkWg3cLaNYERuggFMBB_MnKq1_S8AhF_-yLyhiIWrNdOz01IWRRFO/s1600/Scan0001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOA7TkVkEndTdHXtEA4K4LNFjiWrUYcnF2tHW324XJCaHY6hITs5_x1cvqxoI5gVjmj9xkuyqGLE-xi6KAkMKjkWg3cLaNYERuggFMBB_MnKq1_S8AhF_-yLyhiIWrNdOz01IWRRFO/s320/Scan0001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572119185523803522" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Wedding Day, I think this might have been the second one? The first one they were married by a blind judge at the courthouse... they had a ceremony later for family and close friends.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5x8uj7JViqz8_H8GdMyn7K3nRfGKN3Wt8JDyGcsKu0yBSOY0s8iYrrGIHcbHtowufQRv6-sSQIdpY6WAoPio8FoNZQ_xHw8cI1NWUYXiQJfEDP5Q_mnNaxIk857Nr89W9p042o68h/s1600/Scan0002.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5x8uj7JViqz8_H8GdMyn7K3nRfGKN3Wt8JDyGcsKu0yBSOY0s8iYrrGIHcbHtowufQRv6-sSQIdpY6WAoPio8FoNZQ_xHw8cI1NWUYXiQJfEDP5Q_mnNaxIk857Nr89W9p042o68h/s320/Scan0002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572119493283271378" border="0" /></a><br />my wedding day.... (the only one!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioh9o6IwQmDZUqYQiU7CWR6pbBqHlUTyGyTR2IVrV4aFeMuJYGPNKjrL7vwg4yooQIkothdqR_b_T9TFJhfBqWn9tm-KATqC22VJFFxoGWTAA3CzARudyJL5xhBkSX4BmD0ENoM3GT/s1600/momdad2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioh9o6IwQmDZUqYQiU7CWR6pbBqHlUTyGyTR2IVrV4aFeMuJYGPNKjrL7vwg4yooQIkothdqR_b_T9TFJhfBqWn9tm-KATqC22VJFFxoGWTAA3CzARudyJL5xhBkSX4BmD0ENoM3GT/s320/momdad2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572131957052344178" border="0" /></a><br />There's no denying I'm my dad's kid!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGay-Yyz2QZj1dKAmbvwCVfmp6-7GhesLk9uNZ8XrY6-ncZImOqe8jt1hQZVxuJdtEfyaQWgPErYtm7yLd3kI1NTrAynZ7snTRG2gcjIhC5yy9yQNcmksjdPeUl2-DKR9E6v20evJv/s1600/medadmom.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGay-Yyz2QZj1dKAmbvwCVfmp6-7GhesLk9uNZ8XrY6-ncZImOqe8jt1hQZVxuJdtEfyaQWgPErYtm7yLd3kI1NTrAynZ7snTRG2gcjIhC5yy9yQNcmksjdPeUl2-DKR9E6v20evJv/s320/medadmom.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572132551843584194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><br />I'm a lucky girl. I don't have to recover from my childhood.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">xoxo</span>,<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">asm</span>Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-39971932750244838642011-02-09T15:08:00.000-05:002011-02-10T08:19:47.664-05:00Day 8: Message In A Bottle<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgMhlD8p2bKAt8H-kz8p6PmKMgEppq3igi3E9y-uzx-beIjwoWtpSa-WMvnbMPdEJSRF2RBLznMkCdCYU6NNUkMnmOCas0gOz2bHZQS9ijGBRG_BxGUhmPTBJk6z2-Xb8tpgueKg4x/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgMhlD8p2bKAt8H-kz8p6PmKMgEppq3igi3E9y-uzx-beIjwoWtpSa-WMvnbMPdEJSRF2RBLznMkCdCYU6NNUkMnmOCas0gOz2bHZQS9ijGBRG_BxGUhmPTBJk6z2-Xb8tpgueKg4x/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571759149921406066" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Day 8: Something You've Done That Sets You Apart</span><br /><br />Well, I didn't really know what to write about when I got to this topic, so since I've been meaning to blog about it for awhile now, I decided to talk about something Jason and I did during our wedding that was a little different than the norm.<br /><br />Jason and I got married October 10, 2009 in the backyard of a home on Hampton Point, St. Simons Island. I've always known that I would marry my husband on St. Simons, a place that is as dear to me as my own childhood home. Calling it my "second home" doesn't really do it justice. It's where the other half of my soul resides. When J and I began actually planning our wedding, friends and family assumed it would be a beach wedding, since we were <strike> dragging </strike> kindly asking them to travel 5.5 hours south to attend a wedding in the backyard? But it was the marshes, and the Spanish moss, and the shadows and light that I was after to be the backdrop and setting of my fairytale wedding.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWOHQsPe9tMKH0YmAeh1lXQMAHB1v2YvBDI4vNaBlw-23qelwSjFtezalza22N2FOL8aESPCKTwvmYuW-3tYvp_VYySyZNUvpE3MF_7me6wTQvUQiluQVmWbJ47m9btX5nltY6sTm/s1600/232323232%25257Ffp63254%2529nu%253D3336%252965%253B%2529749%2529WSNRCG%253D344+77+5+9337nu0mrj.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWOHQsPe9tMKH0YmAeh1lXQMAHB1v2YvBDI4vNaBlw-23qelwSjFtezalza22N2FOL8aESPCKTwvmYuW-3tYvp_VYySyZNUvpE3MF_7me6wTQvUQiluQVmWbJ47m9btX5nltY6sTm/s320/232323232%25257Ffp63254%2529nu%253D3336%252965%253B%2529749%2529WSNRCG%253D344+77+5+9337nu0mrj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571789365438428738" border="0" /></a><br />If you've been there, you know that the Golden Isles are not your typical paradise of white sandy beaches and crystal clear blue water... truthfully it's gray sand, and muted, opaque sometimes green, sometimes not, always brackish waters... and it's absolutely, captivatingly, beautiful. So we planned an October wedding, in the backyard of a friends home (we could have fit <span style="font-style: italic;">maybe</span> us and the preacher in mama & daddy's backyard), and it poured down rain 10 minutes before the music was to start, and stopped just as Jason was walking his handsome self to the end of the aisle, (can I get an AMEN!), leaving a rainbow and crystal drops of sweet southern raindrops on the leaves. It was a rather warm evening, but very few bugs (another Hallelujah here!), and because of the short shower, everything was a little "dewy" but the day was absolutely, perfectly wonderful.<br />I always love anything unique, different, fanciful, etc..., that being said, I knew I didn't want us to do the traditional unity candle, because they never seem to stay lit during an outside ceremony, or unity sand because I felt that was too predictable (no offense to anybody who does that at all! i think it's a wonderful memento/keepsake), and I just knew I wanted to do something whimsical and unconventional. I thought how fun it would be to really take advantage of the island/ocean setting by incorporating a message in a bottle as the "unity" aspect of our service ... so I told J about it, and surprisingly he went right along with it (I often come to him with off the wall suggestions/opinions on things, so I was expecting the <span style="font-style: italic;">look</span>, thankfully he's super patient with his wife...that'd be me, and he really got into this idea of mine....now if I can just get him to agree to a pink refrigerator!).<br /><br />So, basically, we wrote love letters to each other that neither one of us had read. We put them in a heart shaped glass bottle my mother gave us. She got it years ago, and kept it because she'd loved the shape. It couldn't have been any more perfect... I suppose it was serendipity that had made her hold on to it for so long. So J and I put in our letters, along with a letter to the finder, a self-addressed envelope, and an albino peacock feather that had been in my bouquet and J's boutonniere.<br /><br />After the wedding we sealed that puppy up, waited for an outgoing tide, and threw her into the great, wide-open ocean off Gould's Inlet.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure the thing probably sunk like a rock the second we turned out backs on it. But maybe it's still on it's way to China (or maybe it's caught up in one of those floating junkyards in the middle of the Atlantic that Greenpeace is always yapping about). Who knows. We will probably never see it again, but I think the mystery of where it winds up is part of the fun in it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This is the letter we included in the bottle,<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQGSlu0yVHXL9u9W481xA5AnUFvnHmQI-BVfHqwsf5WiI3QZNU35MRkdthsD6XpZ1-dLcrk4Gq7SHlZCDa-kCSTO9pRtMMjQqvRC561vjF2mxppoRqk4WOsKgWF63Gy8s0WFu3yID/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQGSlu0yVHXL9u9W481xA5AnUFvnHmQI-BVfHqwsf5WiI3QZNU35MRkdthsD6XpZ1-dLcrk4Gq7SHlZCDa-kCSTO9pRtMMjQqvRC561vjF2mxppoRqk4WOsKgWF63Gy8s0WFu3yID/s320/001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571763470883052226" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I have really, (like whoa!) terrible handwriting... and I apparently can't write a straight line. don't judge.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This is us putting our love letters in the bottle....<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xW7VMRW-gZrhvHOQPGRYeDMvY-eMdoO5thvhpS5Vyr3wW9F_LZ6qg9QymAhfL-EmhE4dVuWG1_Hs41Duma9d1ck10ieQw8da5lDz6YrySBMCGMFYpQMTDaV42A8Nwiz2NXW0iwR6/s1600/11442_859670596120_4927307_52225003_6504835_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xW7VMRW-gZrhvHOQPGRYeDMvY-eMdoO5thvhpS5Vyr3wW9F_LZ6qg9QymAhfL-EmhE4dVuWG1_Hs41Duma9d1ck10ieQw8da5lDz6YrySBMCGMFYpQMTDaV42A8Nwiz2NXW0iwR6/s320/11442_859670596120_4927307_52225003_6504835_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571758280399723122" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This is the bottle.... we realized after we did it that it looks like a seagull did his business all over it, but <span style="font-style: italic;">whatev</span>. We poured enough wax over that cork to make multiple candles, we didn't want that cork going a.n.y.w.h.e.r.e. (it probably popped of the second it hit the water).<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNU4yvui9cM-lViCJN56xfgUzeVb28ZgBmvOOOJ7Yvddm8VjQheUu71AKyAReNAKiKbuP1Xbv1jaUXreU0eMZzyiTB1FyK-x_an6-ERWdoxsYXrdfUWO-HBn-qHwpEpswaAbAJBMZS/s1600/ssi+2011+279.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNU4yvui9cM-lViCJN56xfgUzeVb28ZgBmvOOOJ7Yvddm8VjQheUu71AKyAReNAKiKbuP1Xbv1jaUXreU0eMZzyiTB1FyK-x_an6-ERWdoxsYXrdfUWO-HBn-qHwpEpswaAbAJBMZS/s320/ssi+2011+279.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571762909908751730" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And this... this is a little something I put together for your viewing pleasure. Be forewarned, I, nor J has any experience in cinematography. what.so.ever.... as is blatantly evident by how choppy, bouncy, poorly focused, and overall inferior quality it is.... but, I<span style="font-style: italic;"> LOVE</span> it!<br />ps- if you decide to watch it, i suggest you scroll to the bottom of the post and pause my "blogger tunes" first, or it might give you a headache!<br /><br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AbVsCQ0ahXo" allowfullscreen="" width="480" frameborder="0" height="390"></iframe><br /><br /><br />xoxo,<br />asmAnne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-61589538572224069252011-02-08T11:46:00.000-05:002011-02-08T12:05:27.618-05:00Day 7: Let Your Soul ShineBet you thought I'd forgotten about my blog didn't you? Well, never fear, I am back to bore you with more inconsequential details about me and my life...<br /><br />Thursday Handsome and I bid adieu to the farm, left the kitty cats to fend for themselves, and took a much needed mini-vacation to St. Simons to visit my family. (I miss them. All the time.) I hesitated to leave the purr babies for so long to fend for themselves in the wilderness, but J said they have their claws for battle, should the need arise, and I also saw it as a good opportunity for Petra to realize how important a person I really am in her life, and thought it may make her appreciate me more after my return. It didn't. Once we came home, and settled in, she preceded to jump up on the couch, walk right <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">across</span> me, and curl up in the crook of J's arm. No loyalty that one.<br /><br />Our trip....we did a lot of laying around, reading (me), playing online poker (J), and eating. I ate a whole pack of Oreo's on Friday. by.myself. <span style="font-style: italic;">And</span> they were double stuffed, meaning I really ate TWO packages of Oreo's on Friday. by.myself. Yikes. I had to lay flat on the bed this morning to get my jeans zipped. Nice image huh? Anyway... it rained. A lot. But we got to spend some good quality time <strike> walking the dogs, cleaning up after the dogs, running after the dogs when they ran off </strike>with my family. I miss them. All the time.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlnrloK0Yn9kixqO9LYpmo8m26G_8X2RmWTtfiLs1rq-egkkFsgfVnARRA1T7lrp9X2DnBf69e1cK0wUTGJ80TKUNZKxE3Wkl05_jMthpMyHkzNdWixUfW0QwEjdd6EcfzreUG4-r/s1600/179800_1842968238408_1366673468_3468152_1246335_n.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlnrloK0Yn9kixqO9LYpmo8m26G_8X2RmWTtfiLs1rq-egkkFsgfVnARRA1T7lrp9X2DnBf69e1cK0wUTGJ80TKUNZKxE3Wkl05_jMthpMyHkzNdWixUfW0QwEjdd6EcfzreUG4-r/s320/179800_1842968238408_1366673468_3468152_1246335_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571337402954477234" border="0" /></a><br />J and I also took a couple of poles and wet a hook for a little bit. We caught nothin'. But had a good time at it anyway.<br /><br />Here I am feeding the seagulls our leftover shrimp. J took this. He's quite proud of the action shot, (me, in the air looking like the biggest goon). It happens to look even more silly, because there's not the slightest sign of a bird anywhere in that picture. But trust me, they are there, about to swoop in from all sides.<br /><br />So, that explains my absence from my blog. Did I mention, I miss my family?<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 7: Put Your Ipod on shuffle, list the first 10 songs that play.</span></span><br /><br />Well, J broke my Ipod. He says he didn't, but I know the truth. Actually, I don't really think he did, but it did just so happened to have stopped working while in his possession. Dern thing won't even turn on. I keep meaning to google it, but I just never can seem to find the time.... Anyway, the Ipod is shot, BUT, I did run across a CD of mine that I burned a while back that just happens to have playable songs on it, so, that's what ya get. Beggars can't be choosers round these parts. I really am amazed that the CD even plays, I have a tendency to scratch the bejeejesuz out of anything that says "do not scratch." Cell phones, CD's, the sidewalls of my tires....It's a gift.<br /><br />1. <span style="font-style: italic;"> Soulshine.</span> This is an Allman Brothers Song. It's now performed by Gov't Mule (sometimes I feel like one of those don't you? A gov't mule? anyway...) And one of my all time favorite songs. E.V.E.R. It's one of my theme songs that I would have playing somewhere on the soundtrack of my life... you can listen to it <a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDIQ7Otf1mw&feature=fvsr"><span style="font-style: italic;">here.</span></a><br /><br />2. <span style="font-style: italic;">Chances Are.</span> This is a duet by Bob Seger and Martina McBride, and it's in the movie Hope Floats... another one of my favorite songs ever recorded. This song was J's and my first dance song at our wedding... for that reason it will always, always, always have a special place in my heart. He's definitely the best I've ever met. Gives me chills every time ---> <a style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hl7LdevJ71c">here</a><br /><br />This must be a CD I made right before the wedding, because it has a lot of songs that were played during the ceremony and reception.... I'm listening as I go, and it's totally taking me back...<br /><br />3. <span style="font-style: italic;">Galloway Girl</span>. If you've ever seen P.S. I Love You, this song probably sounds familiar. Gerard Butler <span style="font-style: italic;">AND</span> Jeffery Dean Morgan sing it to Hilary Swank's character.... lucky girl. Anyway, it's by one of my favorite southern rock, country, bluegrass artists Steve Earle. J and I had this on our wedding website, and the bluegrass band we had at the wedding played it. l.o.v.e it. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Lcnvd8BNFE"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"> here</span></a><br /><br />4. <span style="font-style: italic;">In Your Eyes</span> Is originally a 1980's hit by Peter Gabriel, but this particular version is by the Vitamin String Quartet. I walked down the aisle to this version. Another one of those that gives me chills. Minute 1:16, uh, yes. please. <a href="http://ilike.myspacecdn.com/play#Vitamin+String+Quartet:In+Your+Eyes:41258065:s43369012.11333475.19294885.0.2.24%2Cstd_0332801b8bcc4426acb34c38af0ed242"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-style: italic;">here.</span></a> The lyrical version is awesome too, but we're going with the CD here folks... it does get kind of repetitive around minute 3, so feel free to cut it short, and head back this way.<br /><br />5. <span style="font-style: italic;">Father & Daughter</span>, by Paul Simon. Danced to this song with my sweet daddy at my wedding. You can dance to it with your daddy too, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzMh7zHir1I"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">here</span></a>.<br /><br />6. <span style="font-style: italic;">Daughter</span>, by Loudon Wainwright, this was somewhat of a contender for my daddy/daughter dance, but lost out because it basically would have made me sound like a spoiled little brat. which I'm not (I hope!), but my daddy (+mama) definitely blessed me with a lot in my life.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>you can listen to it <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVam-fshUgw"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">here</span>.</a><br /><br />7. <span style="font-style: italic;">If The World Had a Front Porch, </span>by Tracy Lawrence...<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BkfeyD7DRI"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">here</span></a></span> Don't get more country than that! When I youtubed this song, this video that I linked was the first one available, so I grabbed it. I really loved the artistic nature of the video.... Visuals for virtually every line of the song. Perf! the bowl of ice cream was my favorite. ;-)<br /><br />8. <span style="font-style: italic;">Blue Skies</span>, written by Irving Berlin, recorded by many, sung <a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" href="http://ilike.myspacecdn.com/play#Willie+Nelson:Blue+Skies:84006:s308545.8164890.7736170.0.2.239%2Cstd_562d54483e844124bbdfc37c488addf6">here</a> by Willie Nelson.... another one of those life soundtrack songs... I love how mellow his version is. Just an amiable, afternoon of soft rain, curled up on a porch swing with your sweetheart kinda song.... Blue October also has a song also called Blue Skies, <a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gsoNQZnTPeU">here.</a> This one is less mellow, makes me want to grab a jump rope and start double-dutching or something... if i had a jump rope, or knew how to double dutch...<br /><br />9. <span style="font-style: italic;">I Wish It Would Rain, by </span>Nanci Griffith. She's one of my favorite artists, and this is one of my favorites of her's, feast your ears on this little "folkabilly" jewel <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vh94WNjV8Ck"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">here</span></a>.<br /><br />10. <span style="font-style: italic;">The Weakness of Me</span>, by Joan Armatrading is a haunting, somewhat gritty, totally relate-able track. <a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pjMwzujbHE">Here</a> ya go!<br /><br /><br />If any of those links don't work, or take you somewhere in cyberspace that you really shouldn't be, I apologize. I'm still learning. Aren't we always?<br /><br />xoxo,<br />asmAnne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248603913124665369.post-12458476413565959062011-02-03T08:55:00.000-05:002011-02-03T10:48:14.412-05:00Day 6: "Animal House"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizX3U0YEJ9vUC0lrTccXXTE3Q9lSlMcXh9jU19oXKVn8z1wCt5g6pSFAQyc7Zo1yLmapXcMIwaPb2OMhTGJ8mVAWnWV2Z3Vj8TZu78j_qSYjnu6q6nBfns0YOVUvz5ntbeIwF9Ftil/s1600/20538_897006679310_4927307_53557942_3513997_n.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizX3U0YEJ9vUC0lrTccXXTE3Q9lSlMcXh9jU19oXKVn8z1wCt5g6pSFAQyc7Zo1yLmapXcMIwaPb2OMhTGJ8mVAWnWV2Z3Vj8TZu78j_qSYjnu6q6nBfns0YOVUvz5ntbeIwF9Ftil/s320/20538_897006679310_4927307_53557942_3513997_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569487863344163874" border="0" /></a><br />Day 6: Pets<br /><br /><br />That one's not mine. But every time I see it. I.crack.up.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVyR4H10fDWWzUx2CBDnryMEH6XLBCtP4HwyB0cODW5Bvryv93ZqEvlKTXtJ-wjzfJPDZMkmtwKJmv1xmS-yo5HNYgHTIXU7tMSL4NHOQomUesrUaBq4QhziG29tSiiMID8snoj3K/s1600/11442_859769343230_4927307_52229613_6263546_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVyR4H10fDWWzUx2CBDnryMEH6XLBCtP4HwyB0cODW5Bvryv93ZqEvlKTXtJ-wjzfJPDZMkmtwKJmv1xmS-yo5HNYgHTIXU7tMSL4NHOQomUesrUaBq4QhziG29tSiiMID8snoj3K/s320/11442_859769343230_4927307_52229613_6263546_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569465464654540290" border="0" /></a><br />This is Sutton. Jason and I got him about a month after we started dating. We found him wandering around a dump up in Resaca, Georgia. We were shocked that somebody could just throw him away like a piece of garbage, and we determined that we would take him home with us. We'd had him about a day, when we figured out his tendency to go on "walk abouts" and not come back. I've since concluded, maybe his old people didn't throw him away, more likely, he went for his afternoon jaunt, and "forgot" to go back home. It's happened on more than one occasion with us. Although, lately he's been doing much better about coming back to the house. Which I'm happy about because it means I no longer have to run up the road like a mad woman with my nappy house shoes and bathrobe flying when I see him hit up the fire hydrant and then keep going. To be fair though, I think it was a conspiracy thought up by my <strike> sweet </strike>devious Tiki-Belle.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkO1T71y-ozgsvkoMkrxdTX-fMRd9ZL-r8uMy_7sxDdTKNY2irA70lBhHpfPEtZqpgp3x5lpOmbU89Ul7QyLuVprU_RueVo4DzOsOcausoywJBYqb2fLU9RVhujFSIPmSQ_JzbjV31/s1600/11442_859769373170_4927307_52229615_3426013_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkO1T71y-ozgsvkoMkrxdTX-fMRd9ZL-r8uMy_7sxDdTKNY2irA70lBhHpfPEtZqpgp3x5lpOmbU89Ul7QyLuVprU_RueVo4DzOsOcausoywJBYqb2fLU9RVhujFSIPmSQ_JzbjV31/s320/11442_859769373170_4927307_52229615_3426013_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569468152368499154" border="0" /></a>That's Tiki-Belle. Don't let that sweet face fool you. She's as slick as the day is long. She's the one who you often see leading Sutton up the road, tail swishing, with a particular set of her head, that you know means business. She's on a mission. A mission to become an only dog. You can actually watch her get to a certain point of the road, then leave Sutton to his own devices (which bless him, are not the brightest), and then turn around and head back to sit on the front porch, and reign over her territory. While ole Sutton continues on down the road, oblivious that Tiki has just abandoned him. If she had hands, you can bet that she would do that dusting off motion of a job well done. But when she's not plotting, she really is the best snuggle buddy. She can't jump up on the bed, so she'll put her two front paws on the side of the bed, and peak over the top of the mattress with her ears back, just looking all precious. I'm telling ya, that dog <span style="font-style: italic;">knows</span> exactly what's she's doing. I saved her from being euthanized at the animal control in Brunswick, Ga my freshman year of college. I think she some how knows she got a second chance, and has been grateful for every day she's had since. You could learn a lot from this dog, on how to enjoy life. When someone walks in the room she just lights up. She loves being inside, she loves being outside, she loves car rides, she loves sleeping, she loves laps, she loves running and jumping and chasing, she loves to sit on the step of the deck and study the world. <span style="font-style: italic;">This</span> dog, when it comes to living and loving life, "gets" it.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVq7Rpze-IgejMhGw2H0wyivJaKuu_jB2kx16KkoIUuy-Bw5kUpl42ZU6VjRxFaqq1qsja7ejpfmO0p8Y3Zdv7YUaLwLCGDNbcu65yNICu34l5JmW7cjfqNqZnUzmhxLavwgyIg-gE/s1600/18538_868527631550_4927307_52518210_5429469_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVq7Rpze-IgejMhGw2H0wyivJaKuu_jB2kx16KkoIUuy-Bw5kUpl42ZU6VjRxFaqq1qsja7ejpfmO0p8Y3Zdv7YUaLwLCGDNbcu65yNICu34l5JmW7cjfqNqZnUzmhxLavwgyIg-gE/s320/18538_868527631550_4927307_52518210_5429469_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569472434126451474" border="0" /></a>That's Mr. Butler. This picture is a year old. I can't believe I don't have anymore recent pictures of that little mess. But this picture pretty much sums up everything you need to know about Sir Butler. If you could bottle the energy that this dog has in one little toe nail of his, you could probably power the town of Cartersville for a week. I get tired just thinking about him. I adopted him from a friend who was a couple months shy of having her second baby. He wasn't house broken at the time, so I got a good deal on him....free..and a year later he's still not house trained. Oh he will use the potty outside all day long, but he will also use it inside 2 minutes after you've let him in after an afternoon in the back yard. God love him. I know a big part of the problem is that he still has his boy parts, so a lot of the incidents are territory marking. <span style="font-style: italic;">gotta.get.that.fixed.before.i.lose.my.mind. </span>I've done some researching, and from everything I've read, some teacup breeds never really "get" the housebreaking down to a science. say it ain't so. We love him though. I love to snuggle him, and baby talk him, and throw toys that are as big as he is, but he always drags back. He's my "meeester bootler" <---- that's what I have to yell to get him to come back to the house, (try it, it's fun to say....haha). He's a wanderer too. Gotta get some tracking devices to put on these animals. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5tMP0KUOJNrENceLkFAuk3ME4Y02LQHrv2JNedaZrFvQu1dJ802KDt6rR-XT2kgXRQHUtY4zBVW0adzQWQt-793FAQ4KPzMxU-9dQtZIkHEolap2UHS3nXjd_wwQOagxpblEv2i_/s1600/4416841303_568a3e2f3c_b.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5tMP0KUOJNrENceLkFAuk3ME4Y02LQHrv2JNedaZrFvQu1dJ802KDt6rR-XT2kgXRQHUtY4zBVW0adzQWQt-793FAQ4KPzMxU-9dQtZIkHEolap2UHS3nXjd_wwQOagxpblEv2i_/s320/4416841303_568a3e2f3c_b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569483733282700066" border="0" /></a><br />That's Crete. She's a cat. She has turquoise blue eyes. And she is sweeter than her sister Petra. I don't have a picture of Petra, but she's just like Crete, except she's calico, fatter, yellow-green eyes, and meaner. So actually, they are really nothing alike....except they're both cats. Crete is my sweetheart, but she's glutton for punishment if she doesn't quit sharpening her claws on my living room chairs, and pooping in the guest bath tub. <---I'm pretty sure that's my fault because I don't have a litter box in the house for her, and sometimes I lose track of who's been out and who hasn't. She likes Jason better than she does me... so does Petra for that matter. He can have that one. She's mean. I love her, but she's just nice enough to me so I'll continue feeding her, and let her sleep on my stomach when we watch t.v., but no more than that. I'm not allowed to look at her, talk to her, put her outside to potty, or pet her. If I do any of those things, she'll hiss, growl, and strike at me. So I don't. We have an understanding, she and I. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnSkqnIPBTlFmY6A-Gibtcpxx1fQOlgrz9AUb8NjqhBqzf1CLZWHeECxHf-hSG03y3ZWYLLGWRiJclhv3BB6MKsoYgsRKQ_HjulkjzhB4gKeF95Sw6FkVVVCyLsyH8zQVV6GZS8a7H/s1600/9732_1241205234709_1366673468_2048063_4227741_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnSkqnIPBTlFmY6A-Gibtcpxx1fQOlgrz9AUb8NjqhBqzf1CLZWHeECxHf-hSG03y3ZWYLLGWRiJclhv3BB6MKsoYgsRKQ_HjulkjzhB4gKeF95Sw6FkVVVCyLsyH8zQVV6GZS8a7H/s320/9732_1241205234709_1366673468_2048063_4227741_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569477823101379650" border="0" /></a><br /><br />That's Sweet Pea or Ms. Pea (it's interchangeable). I got her from the North Georgia Fair for my 17th birthday, and I've had her ever since. She's the last of our actual "farm" animals. And I love her. In this picture she's eating leftover cake. That pig loves cake, and twinkies, and chips from El Nopal. For a time she lived in a dog house in a pin, but one day she decided she needed bigger quarters so she moved her belongings (seriously, she drug her bedding and hay with her), to the shed outside of the fence. We kept an eye on her for a few days to make sure she didn't head over to the neighbors and start rooting around in their yard. She didn't, so we left her to it. We get some funny looks from people who stop by the house from time to time. I was home a couple of weeks ago, and the termite guy knocked on the door, and said "ma'am, I think you've got a wild pig running around loose in your backyard." I just smiled and said, "oh that's just Sweet Pea, she won't bite." She never travels farther than the barn... although one time we did come home from vacation and she had rooted up pig trails all in the front yard. As long as you feed her every other day, and make sure she has fresh water she just kinda hangs out. She <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> almost blind, so when you bring her food, you have to kind of yodel "sweeter peater" to her so she can follow your voice to her food. She's pretty cool.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWF2hOJaBXDZZdD7xzTSMZT261MvOpsOo2pr-Vjj5aKdNFkNqMQTCYruaAX4rroUk_vXmeBB2ue0CSPC9PgTZg13M6wYjjJa-Qe4B-zBXDYyiJdM8DFvNiGHR4aBfB6fsVwK78vofL/s1600/39523_10100122446498080_4927307_58206212_2095742_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWF2hOJaBXDZZdD7xzTSMZT261MvOpsOo2pr-Vjj5aKdNFkNqMQTCYruaAX4rroUk_vXmeBB2ue0CSPC9PgTZg13M6wYjjJa-Qe4B-zBXDYyiJdM8DFvNiGHR4aBfB6fsVwK78vofL/s320/39523_10100122446498080_4927307_58206212_2095742_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569481430546078498" border="0" /></a><br />These were our horses. Baylady, Bella, and Kid. We lost them all in terrible twist of fate accident. But they were our babies, our pets, and we miss them every day.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAGkLGrSVmrEHMZIfWxYE1KPSuRTOcBrAKCo4TdwQuqa7mkiwK_FS12gr5zBRcVZMZeX1wksPfklfFZHQ9kEJeKHdfJmh9tuIKiMzlrnbs8O6fR59ZLTUfoeRXqczTnWj6E2rwgl3/s1600/73052_10100131208159640_4927307_58428791_7770334_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAGkLGrSVmrEHMZIfWxYE1KPSuRTOcBrAKCo4TdwQuqa7mkiwK_FS12gr5zBRcVZMZeX1wksPfklfFZHQ9kEJeKHdfJmh9tuIKiMzlrnbs8O6fR59ZLTUfoeRXqczTnWj6E2rwgl3/s320/73052_10100131208159640_4927307_58428791_7770334_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569481936030044562" border="0" /></a><br />This was Pauline. She thought she was a horse. She liked to stand on top of the round bale of hay to eat... she was also bad about stealing Sweat Pea's food. She's gone now too.<br /><br />Some days I want to just want to send them all packing... usually on mop days. When I've just swept, and spit polished the floor, and then Jason comes through the door and our fur covered posse with him, and they all run pell-mell through the house leaving tracks everywhere, and doggy fur tumble weeds come out from wherever they were hiding. The cats are weaving themselves in and out of my feet, hollering to be fed, and batting at the dogs because they are ornery like that. <--- That will take a lot out of you. But then everything calms down for the evening, everybody is fed and in as happy a mood as they will be in. The dogs are curled up on top of each other sleeping, the cats are in their respective laps, and for once Petra is allowing me to pet her, and it's just, <span style="font-style: italic;">nice</span>. A houseful of pets, of<span style="font-style: italic;"> family</span> members, and everything that goes along with it, and yeah, it's good.Anne-Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16640064748919510002noreply@blogger.com2