tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-513956807769941702024-03-12T20:33:41.061-04:00Crickett's CacheBarbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.comBlogger634125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-52231903092906688222018-08-17T18:19:00.002-04:002018-08-17T18:19:14.511-04:00Happy Birthday, Big Al!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IIphskogaEU/W3dJf6IAm_I/AAAAAAAADvE/RpCrcarnF0YMZ-ms4wSkzA86V90GS6u2wCLcBGAs/s1600/Big%2BAl%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="238" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IIphskogaEU/W3dJf6IAm_I/AAAAAAAADvE/RpCrcarnF0YMZ-ms4wSkzA86V90GS6u2wCLcBGAs/s1600/Big%2BAl%2B2.jpg" /></a></div>
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Sometimes someone enters your world</div>
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When you're least expecting it.</div>
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Sometimes they brighten your world</div>
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And everything that's in it.</div>
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You know immediately that you love them,</div>
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They have that effect on you.</div>
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And that is true with you Young Man</div>
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That's exactly what you do.</div>
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Wishing you a Happy Birthday, Big Al</div>
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A Happy Birthday - to you!</div>
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Love you to the Moon and back!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Love,</div>
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Mom-Mom</div>
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-79933217558242396952018-08-16T08:14:00.001-04:002018-08-16T08:15:46.538-04:00Happy Birthday, Goldilocks!<div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cvaGF5saFVY/W3VqeYxTYqI/AAAAAAAADu4/Z63rNKQa_OkBeV6AnBfpQJI24AZz0-engCLcBGAs/s1600/Helena%2Band%2BSkateboard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="313" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cvaGF5saFVY/W3VqeYxTYqI/AAAAAAAADu4/Z63rNKQa_OkBeV6AnBfpQJI24AZz0-engCLcBGAs/s320/Helena%2Band%2BSkateboard.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>
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Happy Birthday to my Goldilocks</div>
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Who turns fourteen years old today.</div>
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It's not been that long ago</div>
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You came into our lives to stay.</div>
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I can still remember the wonderment</div>
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Excitement and awe</div>
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And the curiosity you had</div>
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With everything you saw.</div>
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I want for you to have those things</div>
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As you grow with age</div>
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And learn to read what life gives to you</div>
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Just like a book, turn page, to page, to page.</div>
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Keep that spirit within you strong,</div>
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And sweet and full of grace</div>
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And you shall go far, my girl</div>
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Winning life's hectic race!</div>
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Happy Birthday, Goldilocks!</div>
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I love you to Infinity and beyond times a million!</div>
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Love, </div>
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Mom-Mom</div>
Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-23510245661784083902018-08-10T17:24:00.001-04:002018-08-10T17:24:43.763-04:00Happy Birthday, Mr. Beefy!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1Av0tBnwS3o/W24CX_7KjSI/AAAAAAAADus/MWJvsdOblTQNCdVyhqr16kf_i5jFQspswCLcBGAs/s1600/Mr.%2BBeefy%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="513" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1Av0tBnwS3o/W24CX_7KjSI/AAAAAAAADus/MWJvsdOblTQNCdVyhqr16kf_i5jFQspswCLcBGAs/s320/Mr.%2BBeefy%2B2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Happy Birthday, Mr. Beefy</div>
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Hope your day's going great</div>
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Tis time to say "Good-bye" </div>
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To the "The Grand Ole Thirty-eight"</div>
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Forty's next on your rung</div>
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Of life's ladder, I do believe</div>
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Then life shall amp up her gears</div>
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To neck breaking speed.</div>
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So enjoy this year, Mr. Beefy</div>
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Embrace her gifts to you</div>
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'Cause the next time you blink</div>
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You'll be turning forty-two!</div>
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Happy Birthday!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Love,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Barb</div>
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-73344390168504407842018-07-16T11:06:00.000-04:002018-07-16T11:06:49.927-04:00Did You Ever Wonder?Did you ever wonder when taking road trips about the goings on of those traveling the same road?<br />
Or, of those who live in the town you are going through?<br />
<br />
I often wonder when I see the other drivers going to and fro where they are going or coming from. <br />
<br />
Are they traveling on vacation? Where is their destination?<br />
Are they moving from one location to another to start new roots?<br />
Are they on their way to or from work? Where do they work and what do they do?<br />
Are they shopping?<br />
Are they just out and about for no other reason other than they can be?<br />
Are they happy? Sad? Angry? Angry that they are being inundated with excess traffic?<br />
Are they kind? Or are they of the unpleasant sort?<br />
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I wonder these things and then some. But I think mostly I wonder about the folk living in the area we are traveling through, especially at night when you can see the town lit up.<br />
<br />
I wonder if they are cozy and warm, or cool and relaxed, in their homes?<br />
Are they sitting at the dinner table discussing the day's events?<br />
Are they zoned out in front of the TV?<br />
Are children running through the house ~ or getting their baths before bedtime? <br />
Are they already nestled in bed?<br />
Are families happy and chattering, or are they angry and bitter, torn apart by life's events?<br />
Is someone where they're not suppose to be or doing something they're not suppose to be doing?<br />
Maybe they are getting ready to start their shift at work for the evening. <br />
Are they lost in the chaos of this world or do they know their purpose and live accordingly?<br />
<br />
I wonder these things all the time when I travel. It seems when you leave what is familiar to you, you enter a foreign country. But the raw truth is: people are pretty much the same everywhere. They work, they play, they laugh, they cry, they plan, they clean, they fuss at their children, they are kind, they hug, and they love. They get angry and feel pain and disappointment.<br />
<br />
They are, as I am, after all, mere human beings.<br />
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-28952034817942906902018-04-23T08:35:00.001-04:002018-04-23T08:36:09.320-04:00Happy Birthday, Hope!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P-RzHpX9e3g/Wt3QJP3QMTI/AAAAAAAADuU/2SjLpakOu4QvpZX3OsncUie9vXrQgxmwgCLcBGAs/s1600/Hope%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="380" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P-RzHpX9e3g/Wt3QJP3QMTI/AAAAAAAADuU/2SjLpakOu4QvpZX3OsncUie9vXrQgxmwgCLcBGAs/s320/Hope%2B2.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>
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Happy Birthday to a girl</div>
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Who's smile can light the sky</div>
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You bring joy to my heart</div>
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And you don't even have to try!</div>
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Your carefree spirit suits you well</div>
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Your energy makes me sigh</div>
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It's as if you could wear wings</div>
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You'd surely take to flight!</div>
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An aura follows you around</div>
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A warm and cozy light.</div>
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I love you more than you could know</div>
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My girls who smiles so bright!</div>
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Happy Birthday, Hopie!</div>
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Love,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom-Mom</div>
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-13761095439005277482018-04-22T12:20:00.000-04:002018-04-22T12:25:11.616-04:00Happy Birthday Moonbeam!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8RUOsQnUGHA/Wty1-U9-W1I/AAAAAAAADuE/M89eariccKAjEr7SHE2rN8gJ1y36fDDlACLcBGAs/s1600/Walton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8RUOsQnUGHA/Wty1-U9-W1I/AAAAAAAADuE/M89eariccKAjEr7SHE2rN8gJ1y36fDDlACLcBGAs/s320/Walton.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>
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I want to wish you joy</div>
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On this day that you turn three</div>
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I want you to be happy</div>
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And your spirit to be free</div>
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I want you to grow up strong</div>
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And remember you are loved</div>
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I want to wrap my heart around you</div>
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Our Moonbeam from above.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So Happy Birthday Little Boy</div>
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To you - just from me<br />
On this special birthday<br />
That you are turning three!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Love, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom-Mom</div>
Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-55595817691105155282018-04-20T11:32:00.002-04:002018-04-20T11:43:40.390-04:00School ~ Not Just For KidsOne would think that when you graduated from school you would be done with the rigors of learning stuff in books. Nope. Not so. It continues. And continues. And continues some more. Sometimes the "learning" is actually the "teaching". I know. It doesn't make sense, but, really, it does. Make sense, that is.<br />
<br />
Let's look at Math. I don't know of any one of my grand-daughters that likes Math. Me, I loved it. And when you love something someone else doesn't care for it's hard to convince them how useful it is and will be. Trust me, I've tried. The only thing I can think of to convince at least a couple of them is the fact that they have an interest in quilting. That alone will challenge your basic (if not a little more advanced) math skills. I told them they would have to know their basic fractions, multiplication and division tables, in addition to addition and subtraction. Otherwise their quilts might look more like shredded wheat than - quilts. We'll see how that translates.<br />
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Then we have Grammar and Literature. Reading has always been a passion of mine. I am pleased to see it in quite a few of my grandies (The Boy and My Squirley Girlies). Reading broadens your mind and creativity immensely. Your imagination can be stretched beyond the decades and moments in time in a good novel . It's pages create wonderful places to be lost in. Not to mention the vocabulary I learned. My youth was saturated with reading. It became hard to devote my time to reading when my kiddlings were young. Oh, I read. Story books and such, but my books sat and waited, but that was ok. My babes were only small for a time. Then, when they became self sufficient and could read on their own, I was able to welcome back my long lost friends. <br />
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Grammar, on the other hand is, well, challenging. I like Grammar. I still study it. I don't understand today's lack of good grammar and the misuse of common, every day words. People, that's why Mr. Webster exists. Or, if you don't like turning the pages of a "book", then google the word. PLEASE.<br />
I have the pleasure of critiquing papers for my college kiddos. Not necessarily for content as much, but for grammar and sentence structure. It's hard when basic foundations are soft and they haven't had much to build their grammatical skills on. I get it. I've had to critique elementary teacher's papers that were sent home. If the teachers can't seem to grasp it, then how on earth are the kids suppose to?<br />
Geeze. And don't get me started on cursive writing. Just don't<br />
<br />
Then we have History ~ Nope. Don't like it. Don't want to like it. Not because I don't care about historical facts, because I do. I just can't keep those dates and places in my brain. It's like looking at a thousand stars and being expected to know their names and constellations. Won't happen. <br />
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So I <strike>teach</strike> help with what I know. I continue to use Mr. Webster (and spell check) quite often. When I sit down to clunk away on this keyboard, the only words that go down are mine, so I better know (kinda) how to use the words I write. Otherwise, well, otherwise. . . . . . . .<br />
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Don't get me wrong. I've seen my share of grammatical flubs in my writing, and it causes me great angst. Sometimes I remember to correct them, and sometimes they just go down in the archives of faux pas. You can correct me if you wish. Or not. Either way, I'd still love ya.Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-42255464324712273612018-04-15T12:25:00.000-04:002018-04-19T12:30:32.218-04:00Happy Birthday, GGG!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jXnpHoJxMXo/WtjCHOFYooI/AAAAAAAADt0/B6Ou6uVjMIYcgTUSmdLeED82WdIAgwrZgCLcBGAs/s1600/gabe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="475" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jXnpHoJxMXo/WtjCHOFYooI/AAAAAAAADt0/B6Ou6uVjMIYcgTUSmdLeED82WdIAgwrZgCLcBGAs/s320/gabe.jpg" width="289" /></a></div>
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This Little Bit of Stardust</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Has reached the age of two!</div>
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He's growing up so quickly</div>
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As most youngin's do!</div>
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I can only imagine the joy</div>
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He spreads to all around</div>
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Just look at that face</div>
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It speaks without a sound!</div>
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So here's to another year</div>
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Happy Birthday just for you</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This Little Bit of Stardust</div>
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That's reached the age of two!</div>
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Happy Birthday, Gabe!</div>
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Love,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Aunt Crickett</div>
Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-9106516028517893842018-03-27T10:46:00.000-04:002018-03-27T10:46:22.281-04:00Happy Birthday, Little Boy Blue!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUW06N2DggU/WrpXQCAtfsI/AAAAAAAADtk/oeMiVgahjswslpYXvt7KNTmXlSVN0ElKwCLcBGAs/s1600/Preston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUW06N2DggU/WrpXQCAtfsI/AAAAAAAADtk/oeMiVgahjswslpYXvt7KNTmXlSVN0ElKwCLcBGAs/s320/Preston.jpg" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He wears that ketchup with pride!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I love this little "ginger".</div>
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He surely stole my heart.</div>
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I fell madly in love with him</div>
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Right from the very start!</div>
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<br /></div>
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He's full of boundless energy,</div>
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The ornery kind, you know</div>
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Not one little ounce of him</div>
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Does anything too slow.</div>
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He runs on pure adrenaline</div>
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The kind that makes life fun</div>
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You can't make this boy walk</div>
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When all he can do is run.</div>
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<br /></div>
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He's turning five years old today</div>
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I can't believe it's so</div>
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I wan to bring him home with me</div>
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I want to watch him grow!</div>
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<br /></div>
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I love this little "ginger"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He surely stole my heart.</div>
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I fell madly in love with him</div>
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Right from the very start!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy Birthday, Little Boy Blue</div>
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I love you!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Love,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom-Mom</div>
Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-44913514434256258482018-03-27T10:00:00.000-04:002018-03-27T11:03:23.290-04:00Happy Birthday, Matt!Happy Birthday, Matt!<br />
<br />
Time sure flies when you get older! <br />
Not old like me, but, older.<br />
Not older than dirt, but, older. <br />
Not too old to run, but not as quickly.<br />
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Not too old to run after a toddler, but needs to run quickly</div>
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Not too old to stay up til at least midnight, if you dare, but prefers the 10 o'clock hour.</div>
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Not too old to flash that smile that shows me who you are.</div>
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Not too old to love.</div>
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NEVER too old to love.</div>
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Have a wonderful birthday.</div>
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I love you!</div>
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AC</div>
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-73508248398955058122018-02-21T15:03:00.000-05:002018-02-21T15:03:06.620-05:00Christmas in FebruaryChristmas in February? Why not? Sometimes the hectic, whirlwind, over-stretched, over-stressed feelings really put a damper on what we are really celebrating. So stepping back and exchanging gifts with extended family later on is refreshing. That's what happened this year ~ a delayed exchange.<br />
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I always love the gifts I get. They are fitting for me. I'm all about simple and sweet without all the fluff-n-stuff. Fluff-n-stuff is nice, but sometimes it's irrelevant. Simple and sweet means thought out for me specifically. That's what touches me ~ that someone has listened to my needs and sometimes my wants. ;). <br />
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I received a February gift that really spoke to me. It wasn't a "want", nor was it a "need". It was, however, geared specifically to me. It was a Willow Tree figurine, a "Generations" piece. A grandmother, a daughter and a granddaughter comforted by a quilt. Yes, this was me. I love to make quilts and I love even more teaching my lovelies how to make them. Very fitting. Yes, very fitting indeed. It was the note that came with it that made me do some serious thinking. So, I guess, this post is more about the effect of this exchange rather than the timing of this exchange (although God's timing is always perfect).<br />
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The note that accompanied it simply stated: "Crickett, When I saw this I instantly thought of you. You are the anchor in your family....even on the days you don't feel like you make a difference to anyone. Love you more than you know, Donna"<br />
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A simple note with a profound statement. I can assuredly say I don't feel at all like any anchor. More often than not I feel as I've let my entire brood down. I can't for the life of me see them tethering themselves to me for anything, let alone, stability. I feel more like the buoy in the ocean, bobbing to and fro, insecure in where I'm placed. The only thing keeping me from drifting out to sea is The Anchor tethered to me. Perhaps my minuscule affect on my family has trickled it's way upward from The Anchor to the buoy to them. Perhaps. Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-32976879724321213922018-01-27T09:16:00.000-05:002018-01-27T09:21:20.509-05:00Happy Birthday, Annalynne!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy Birthday to this Half Pint! She turns a whopping two years old today.<br />
Generally I would write a little poem for birthdays, but this girl here, she almost needs a book!<br />
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She is one of the feistiest little people I know. She knows what she wants and you can barely convince her otherwise. She has grown so much in one year ~ from learning to walk, giving up her bottle, feeding herself (mostly) and talking (in a French accent). She still has her "Ninny", or should I say: "Nin-nay", at nap time though. <br />
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I love it when she comes to visit. She chatters like a magpie. I love watching her "run". She moves her elbows back and forth, swings her butt, all faster than she is moving!<br />
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Her little voice kills me. I forget how stinkin' sweet little people sound! I miss that ~ terribly.<br />
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So here's to a new year for this Little Thing. It will be interesting to see how it all pans out, especially when her Mama starts potty training. (Won't miss that!)<br />
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Happy Birthday Sweet Pea!<br />
I love you to infinity and beyond!<br />
<br />
Mom-Mom<br />
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-5919201650966372842018-01-24T12:34:00.000-05:002018-01-24T12:36:56.347-05:00Not Sure WhyNot quite sure why I haven't written to myself lately. It's not like I haven't had anything to write about, because I have ~ lots. Actually, more than lots ~ a boat load full of stuff. I'm guessing I just haven't been serious enough to grab the bull by the horns and hunker down with the keyboard. It's not like we're not friends or anything. We are well connected, tethered by years of confessions, silliness, pain and anguish, nonsense, and the like. I miss our time together ~ me clicking away, it gladly absorbing the light pounding (well, maybe sometimes the pounding is a little more than <i>light) </i>of my fingers. Our quiet time. Our time for reflecting. Our sad and happy time. Yea, all those times and then some.<br />
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I'm going to try to make it a goal this year to be more consistent in sharing my thoughts with this keyboard. So much so, that I may just break down and give her a name. Maybe that is what's missing ~ the name of my trustworthy recorder. Hmmm . . . . <br />
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I feel if I don't get back in the groove I will lose track of all the daily goings on around here and in the Land of Horses. These things need to be recorded for posterity. My lovelies like seeing their names in print. I like printing them. I love being privy to the memories they create. It reminds me of why were<b> are</b>. Of the important things in life. I truly think of it as the electric shock to my heart. It makes me come alive and the emotion contained within as a result is beyond words. But I do my best to capture the moment(s).<br />
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So, here's looking forward to a brand new year of memories and looking back at last year and pulling from those life filling, life changing events.<br />
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Here's to the love that will be wrapped around each word. <br />
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Here's to my Family and Friends. <br />
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And here's to my keyboard.<br />
<br />
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-74209272542580251922017-10-10T08:07:00.000-04:002017-10-10T08:07:13.570-04:00Happy Birthday, Benjamin!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy Birthday to my youngest.</div>
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Turning 30 can seem a little daunting, </div>
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But it appears you've got it covered!</div>
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Conquer the world if you must</div>
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But remember to do what is just</div>
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Be yourself in all you do</div>
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Just let the Lord guide you through</div>
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And you will certainly be amazed</div>
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At what you've accomplished at the end of the day.</div>
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Love you now</div>
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Love you forever</div>
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Mom</div>
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-3874080114487095662017-10-01T08:16:00.000-04:002017-10-10T08:18:15.747-04:00Happy Birthday, Daniel!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy Birthday, Dan!</div>
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Praying your life is filled with all that is great and good. </div>
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Love you bushels!</div>
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Aunt Crickett<br />
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PS ~ Had to snag a FB pic :)</div>
Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-77892717417962494452017-09-24T12:28:00.000-04:002017-09-24T12:28:52.846-04:00BirthdaysI've pondered all the Birthday wishes I have to catch up on from the past few months. I don't know why I let life sidetrack me so. At any rate, it will be done. I will catch up. But there was one Birthday I was fixated on all week. I worried how it would affect my lovelies in Kentucky. It was their Dad's Birthday. The 23rd of September. The first birthday without him. It weight heavy on my heart for them. I knew there would probably be tears and brokenness. But I prayed for strength for them. Near the end of this week, his birthday to be exact, I had a thought. A very eye opening thought. . . . . .<br />
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We celebrate the day we are born. Our "traditional" birthday. Then, if you are a Christian and can remember the exact day, we celebrate the day we asked Jesus into our hearts. Our "salvation" birthday. But ~ in reality ~ as believers ~ when we close our eyes to this world and open them in glory ~ isn't that <i><b>our true Birthday</b></i>? The day we die is actually the day we shed away all these old bones and nonsense and take on a new body. We are literally a new being. A new "person". Knowing this helps to ease the pain of "death anniversaries" and prompts me to want to celebrate "Heavenly Birthdays". And if I see it this way, my Mom would be a mere 39 years old! Thirty-nine! <br />
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It's just a thought to ponder.<br />
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It's not text book material.<br />
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It's not even written anywhere.<br />
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I just found comfort in that thought.<br />
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I eases the heartache.<br />
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<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-13212335802106790562017-06-02T10:10:00.001-04:002017-06-02T10:10:26.870-04:00Bat At It. . . . AgainJust when you think it's safe to rest your weary head after a week away from home you are reminded of why you shouldn't. Although we've been home a week since our vacation our "reminder" showed up unannounced. (That's what happens when you make mention of it on your way home ~ you jinx yourself.)<br />
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Last night The Hubs and I had to run to Sam's Club to pick up a couple things. The Boy left while we were gone (leaving TV on and front door open ~ so glad we have honest neighbors). When we got home we went about our business ~ which actually consisted of watching "The Shooter". Love that movie. After the movie, The Hubs went up for his shower, came back down and we locked up the house, having no idea what time the Boy would be home. We trust our neighbors, but not the "Night crawlers". We literally had just laid down when we heard The Boy pull up. We heard him rustling around and I think Hubs and I both hit that doze state just before sleep. Next thing I know it sounds as if an all out brawl broke out downstairs! I heard fussing and running of feet. The Hubs ~ who never hears anything (or so he says) was even a bit worried. He called down asking what was wrong. No answer. What on earth was going on down there?! Hubs gets up (another rare thing) and goes into the hall way and calls down again. I can hear The Boy, but can't make out the words. Then I hear Hubs say it: B. A. T.<br />
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So it begins. The Hunt. I was in a quandary as to whether or not I should leave the safety of my room. I could stay in there and lock everyone out and let them deal with the Creature, or I could suck it up and go help. Who am I kidding? I'm as worthless as a plugged nickel when it comes to Bat Hunting. So I ventured downstairs ducking and dodging thin air. You know, just in case. This isn't my first rodeo, but it evokes the same anxiety every, single time. I cautiously assess the situation, intending to interrogate The Boy (he may have been hallucinating). I find The Boy on the kitchen floor, on his stomach, looking at his phone. He seems all chilled out. However, he has positioned himself between the counter and the stove, feet pointing to the wall and facing the living room where he had encountered the Creature. <i> What was he thinking</i>? Where was he going to run if the Creature had decided to enter the kitchen? He had pinned himself into a corner. Seems The Boy, The Ben, The Beast had been squashed by The BAT. I questioned as to whether he really saw it or not giving the fact he wasn't being very co-operative. The Hubs backed his sighting ~ he saw it when he came downstairs.<br />
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The rundown: Ben: *I came home, got some chocolate milk, kicked back on the sofa with the intentions of watching some TV. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye over by the fireplace. Then I saw it, circling the living room.* It was more than he could handle.<br />
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The Hubs, in the meantime, is frantically searching (not for the Creature) for the tennis rackets. They can't be found anywhere. So as The Boy and I are scanning the downstairs, Hubs goes in the basement and retrieves two crab nets. They try to hand one off to me. Nope, not happening. We searched and peeked and scanned every area we could downstairs. We were all CSI with our flashlights. Hubs even went outside with his trusty, high lumen flash light to check the windows ~ (Um, Hubs, I think they call that creeping. I'm not bailing you out if the Sherriff rides by.) you know, just in case the Creature was trying to leave. Nothing. I think he needed some fresh air and a moment to think. <br />
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That leaves us one thing to do. Go to bed. I'm a mess. I can't sleep with my head under the covers. Some how I end up with a crab net on my way up. What am I suppose to do with this? Sleep with it? Because if I put it anywhere in the room that means I will have to get up and retrieve it while The Creature is flying around. I don't know. That doesn't sound like a good idea to me. I feel I can't breathe.<br />
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The Boy did clean up the chocolate milk that catapulted out of his cup and onto the love seat, pillow and floor. That would have been the brawling noise and sounds of fusing we heard earlier. (Actually, it was him running and cussing the bat.) One cannot think of being careful or quiet when eluding flying creatures!<br />
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We decide to close all doors upstairs in case The Creature decides to take flight. But. . . . what if it is already up there and we close him in with us???? (hence the crab net, I suppose) So, we opt to turn on the AC. Don't know how that's going to help, but if it makes The Menfolk feel better, sure, why not. We, meaning The Hubs, gets the windows down upstairs and proceeds back down to the scary place. I hear him say in a quiet voice: "I found him." Is he quiet because it's flying, or is it perched somewhere obvious, like on the back of the couch? Nope. He had closed him up in the window. The same window I had checked earlier. (I'm sweating). He didn't mean to. It had worked up between the top and bottom trying to get out and got caught when he lowered the window. <br />
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I told The Boy The Creature had been contained. The Hubs said he was rather small. The Boy begged to differ. He said it was the biggest bat he had seen, holding his hands about 14 inches apart. All I can envision are the bats from Jumanjii. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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Yep, this looks about right.</h3>
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Needless to say, I DID NOT SLEEP WELL. Suppose it had a friend.<br />
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What is it anyway with bats and our house? I'm not Motel 8. I don't "leave the light on". But an even bigger question: How. Do. They. Get. In????<br />
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Side note: Do you know bats are protected? You CANNOT kill them. At least around this area. True story.<br />
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-5026238077387643162017-04-25T11:46:00.000-04:002017-05-02T11:48:46.463-04:00Helicopter BallroomThey're twirling madly in the air<br />
These helicopters, everywhere<br />
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But this year they've upped their game<br />
They don't look, to me, quite the same.<br />
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Instead of that motley shade of brown,<br />
They've donned a different color gown. <br />
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This color is quite new to me<br />
I had to look twice to see what I did see<br />
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Brown has always been the norm<br />
For these "helicopters" in their swarm.<br />
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No, these weren't that shade of brown<br />
That fluttered gracefully to the ground<br />
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But a delicate shade of pink<br />
A lovely shade that made me think<br />
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What a delightful sight to see<br />
A ballroom of pink dancing on the breeze.<br />
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<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-31633248242638121042017-04-23T09:21:00.000-04:002017-04-23T09:21:05.651-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Eighteen years ~ like yesterday</div>
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You came to grace our hearts</div>
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Eighteen years ~ like yesterday</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We've loved you from the start</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eighteen years ~ like yesterday</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You know the time has flown</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eighteen years ~ like yesterday</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just look at how you've grown</div>
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<br /></div>
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Eighteen years ~ like yesterday</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your spirit is still sweet and strong</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eighteen years ~ like yesterday</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You make life seem like a song!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eighteen years ~ seems like yesterday</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I can't believe my eyes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I loved you then ~ I love you now</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'll love you 'til I die.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Happy Birthday, Hopie!</div>
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Love you a bushel and a peck</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
With a hug around the neck!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom-Mom</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-46501497620375714412017-04-22T11:38:00.000-04:002017-04-25T11:39:50.195-04:00Happy Birthday, Moonbeam!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4K7WXbpyqVQ/WP9qW3TkOWI/AAAAAAAADro/3nByoy7NXD4qz-ItTt6klzu8zP-CImhegCLcB/s1600/Walton%2B2B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4K7WXbpyqVQ/WP9qW3TkOWI/AAAAAAAADro/3nByoy7NXD4qz-ItTt6klzu8zP-CImhegCLcB/s320/Walton%2B2B.jpg" width="202" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Our Moonbeam from the Sky</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Turned two years old this day</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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It's hard to fathom such a thing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But Time does have his way.</div>
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<br /></div>
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He's out to conquer this old world</div>
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Such a pistol, as you can see</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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It won't take him very long</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He has vast supplies of energy</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And when he's done, at day's end,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And all the villains put to rest</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He will, in sweet slumber sleep</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And dream of his next great quest.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy Birthday, Little Moonbeam!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Love,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom-Mom</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-56542265910036916942017-04-15T07:00:00.000-04:002017-04-15T07:00:26.428-04:00Happy Birthday, GGG!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SbQOnFT471E/WPFxq1X3TUI/AAAAAAAADrI/YSR37lcrhM0w63rRXxl5G-6H9JmyDYU9QCLcB/s1600/Gabe%2B2a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SbQOnFT471E/WPFxq1X3TUI/AAAAAAAADrI/YSR37lcrhM0w63rRXxl5G-6H9JmyDYU9QCLcB/s320/Gabe%2B2a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Our Little Piece of Stardust <br />
Is turning one today.<br />
He's growing up so fast<br />
And he changes every day.<br />
<br />
I just love his baby eyes so blue,<br />
And those chunky little cheeks.<br />
Let's not dismiss that tiny mouth<br />
So perfectly round and sweet.<br />
<br />
I hear he has a tender spirit<br />
Easy going as can be<br />
Take a look at that little face<br />
That truth is plain to see.<br />
<br />
So Happy Birthday to this babe<br />
Sent for all to love<br />
One year old today<br />
Our Stardust from Above.<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday, GGG!<br />
Love,<br />
Aunt Crickett<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-49031380534319575402017-04-11T20:00:00.000-04:002017-04-12T08:10:05.418-04:00What Are You?Sometimes an early morning conversation sets the tone for the whole day.<br />
Such was the case today.<br />
<br />
Itty Bitty and I were sitting on my front steps waiting for the school bus. She always has random thoughts in her little noggin. Out of no where she tells me she heard pop music last night. They (her family) weren't playing pop music, she heard it in the Village of Quantico. I feel my heart fluttering. "Village". What a descriptive word. My mind immediately went to a cobblestone setting. <br />
<br />
She proceeds to tell me she used to be a Townsman, but now she's a Villager. Mommy, Effan, Rease, Helena and Annalynne are also Villagers. Mom-Mom, Pop-Pop, Ben, Mr. Paul, Miss Carrwy, Rease and Helena are Townsmen. Well, she says, Rease and Helena are Villagers and Townsmen because they live there (little hand swings right) and here (other little hand swings left). I can hardly stand it. Of course MY imagination has little pointy caps or flat little beanies on everyone's head.<br />
<br />
She then proceeds to tell me that maybe she's a Villager and a Townsman if her daddy lives in a town. And she thinks for a second and concludes that she's could be considered a Farmer too since Granny Bell lives on a farm. Be still my heart. <br />
<br />
I put my Little Villager on the bus here in Town, waved goodbye and came in to ponder this morning's chat. I knew I had to record this one for posterity. I don't want to forget. Ever.<br />
<br />
But on a sad note, my Little Villager arrived back in Town after school with her jacket on. It was only a gazillion degrees outside. I don't say anything, but the minute she gets inside she wants me to take her temperature. She's been coughing all day she says. I test her forehead, it's warm and her cheeks are flushed, so I oblige her after she removes her shoes, visits the Little Girl's Room and washes her hands. That gal had a temp of 101.4! I asked if she had been cold or chilly today. No, says she. I had my jacket on. Alrighty then.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure she will ever know the imprint she's leaving on my heart. The innocence of a child is the most refreshing thing you will ever experience. I try not to change one bit of her. I love the way God made her. In fact, I love the way God made all my family. He knew them and formed them and I'm thrilled He did!<br />
<br />
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-78472914892561478462017-04-04T12:42:00.001-04:002017-04-12T08:16:50.214-04:00I Live In A Small Town . . . .<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Small towns have their advantages. They are quiet. They are quaint. And seemingly,</div>
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everybody knows everything about everybody. Seemingly. Just ask any kid you</div>
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see perusing "The Boulevard". They will fill you in on the latest happenings.</div>
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And. . . . . occasionally you will run across <strike>a Nosey Nellie</strike> an adult with the same "super powers".</div>
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<br /></div>
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Anywho ~ our Small Town is getting <strike>overtaken by giant metal beasts</strike> an upgrade.</div>
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First to arrive were the sidewalk people, followed by the wire people.</div>
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(Like my formal titles?)</div>
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They paved the way for the paving people.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NxmgqMY8_mU/WOO-0Cg_srI/AAAAAAAADqY/LcJvP-ZWJl8wxyTHKxEPWvlYg9zv7pPQwCEw/s1600/P1060294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NxmgqMY8_mU/WOO-0Cg_srI/AAAAAAAADqY/LcJvP-ZWJl8wxyTHKxEPWvlYg9zv7pPQwCEw/s320/P1060294.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
These massive beasts parked outside my house like big black Carpenter Ants on a paved path.</div>
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They were awesome to look at. I don't recall ever seeing such clean and shiny paving trucks.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They are mesmerizing . I am fascinated with them. Please don't ask me why. Just don't, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
'cause I don't know why. I just am. I want to drive one. <br />
I do.</div>
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You can tell they are built for hard labor and in it for the long haul. </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8iTCRd8IV-0/WOO-1ctFAWI/AAAAAAAADqg/yZ-X-xd6lFoy65KbjW_Q9GapYUH2pOF6wCEw/s1600/P1060296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8iTCRd8IV-0/WOO-1ctFAWI/AAAAAAAADqg/yZ-X-xd6lFoy65KbjW_Q9GapYUH2pOF6wCEw/s320/P1060296.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
They moved stealthily around each other . . . .</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pCMqn0Ls32g/WOO-05GasgI/AAAAAAAADqc/ENRCxP77u_YXNITFDrooeI7fqe3hWF4IwCEw/s1600/P1060295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pCMqn0Ls32g/WOO-05GasgI/AAAAAAAADqc/ENRCxP77u_YXNITFDrooeI7fqe3hWF4IwCEw/s320/P1060295.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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but mostly maintained a straight line behind the street wetting machine. Another beast. </div>
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They would move and pause ~ waiting for the "Leader of the Pack" to do his thang.</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-STGsLS0tbDs/WOPCcaj6Y6I/AAAAAAAADqs/kCMjSgA7wN8P6oYoYefBVGc6U2HYtLQtACLcB/s1600/P1060299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-STGsLS0tbDs/WOPCcaj6Y6I/AAAAAAAADqs/kCMjSgA7wN8P6oYoYefBVGc6U2HYtLQtACLcB/s320/P1060299.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It was a "Slow Ride", and some were takin' it easy . . . . .until</div>
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time to move along.</div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i8l0BhK2sLw/WOPLzo5Ql7I/AAAAAAAADq4/MhHQi132AYgpgQ9x0XoXktDN_bLyvTIpQCLcB/s1600/Convoy%2BCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i8l0BhK2sLw/WOPLzo5Ql7I/AAAAAAAADq4/MhHQi132AYgpgQ9x0XoXktDN_bLyvTIpQCLcB/s400/Convoy%2BCollage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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"Mercy sakes alive, looks like we've got us a convoy!"</div>
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About to put the hammer down for THIS . . . .</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UFgR-35kptQ/WOO-mrS-hFI/AAAAAAAADqI/6rUxYiYiUHIqKkR_rPTdm9HDYFBBZt4cgCEw/s1600/P1060301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UFgR-35kptQ/WOO-mrS-hFI/AAAAAAAADqI/6rUxYiYiUHIqKkR_rPTdm9HDYFBBZt4cgCEw/s320/P1060301.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
"Ain't she a beautiful sight?"</h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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THIS, this thing is a BEAST. I thought my house was going to shake off its foundation!</div>
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Scared the dickens out of me when everything rattled.</div>
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I was thinking a "1 "on the Richter Scale. Yep.</div>
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Then we had this cutie bringing up the rear. . . . .</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p9xrADgWqRw/WOO-mbRAyoI/AAAAAAAADqA/HBa0ZikDE6kY8h10T2v1PdjUuUYfhSM8wCEw/s1600/P1060302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p9xrADgWqRw/WOO-mbRAyoI/AAAAAAAADqA/HBa0ZikDE6kY8h10T2v1PdjUuUYfhSM8wCEw/s320/P1060302.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It reminded me of that little rhinoceros on Jumanjii. </div>
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You know, the one at the end of the stampede. Huffing along.</div>
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Only this guy wasn't huffing along. He was "Smooth Sailing"!</div>
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He was smoothing out all the stuff the BEAST was laying down. </div>
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so the road would start to look like a road again and not a scraped knee.</div>
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It's the beginning to the end. . . . .</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qv1CM4B1ceE/WOPFINIYCeI/AAAAAAAADqw/3yQNXibGmeoSg3qqbXPEVfB0rp5ADCwFACLcB/s1600/P1060303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qv1CM4B1ceE/WOPFINIYCeI/AAAAAAAADqw/3yQNXibGmeoSg3qqbXPEVfB0rp5ADCwFACLcB/s320/P1060303.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Now all they have to do is finish smoothing and stripe that baby up!</div>
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-15697670247947987332017-04-02T11:27:00.000-04:002017-04-03T11:28:31.146-04:00Happy Birthday, Ellie Bean!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rrmYm5tFOt8/WOJokFMGxBI/AAAAAAAADps/PE_GT71BKRMjrUnRcJPRorxu_hytYjHdACLcB/s1600/Ellie%2BBean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rrmYm5tFOt8/WOJokFMGxBI/AAAAAAAADps/PE_GT71BKRMjrUnRcJPRorxu_hytYjHdACLcB/s320/Ellie%2BBean.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There's a Queen</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Named Ellie Bean</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That rules with a tiny hand.</div>
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<br /></div>
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She reigns alone</div>
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Upon her throne</div>
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In The Jappa Land.</div>
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<br /></div>
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She just turned two</div>
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This Queen who rules</div>
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Over her loving home.</div>
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<br /></div>
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She bends for none</div>
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'Cause she's no longer one</div>
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This Queen upon her throne!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Happy Birthday, Ellie Bean</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
From the Land of The Eastern Shore</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Love,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Aunt Crickett</div>
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51395680776994170.post-41432690063059682712017-03-28T11:54:00.000-04:002017-03-29T12:07:10.730-04:00The TruckSometimes. . . . . . .<br />
<br />
We have a thing here where we try to wave goodbye to family and friends as they leave. Most of the time we make it. However, this morning, we missed waving to the Boy. Ittty Bitty, Turtle Dove and I were standing at the door waving goodbye to their Mommy. I made the comment that we had missed the Boy this morning. Itty Bitty said: "He drove his truck." Not sure if that was justification for missing him or not. But, she continues on:<br />
<br />
Ittty: "He won't let me drive his truck." <br />
Me: "Oh, yea? He won't let me either."<br />
Itty: "He'll let Rease drive it."<br />
<br />
Pause ~ thinking. . . . .(<i>never</i> a good sign)<br />
<br />
Itty: "He won't let me."<br />
Me: "Well, you're too little to drive his truck."<br />
Itty: "Well, you're too old!" <br />
Me: "I'm not too old!"<br />
Itty: "I can drive it. I drive Annalynne's all around."<br />
<br />
If she doesn't stop telling me I'm O.L.D., I think I may start believing it! Maybe I'll even act it!<br />
Now let's just move on to normal, everyday things like, I don't know, singing?<br />
<br />Barbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16971066799529858531noreply@blogger.com0