tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29162577322637586472024-03-04T20:11:14.803-08:00Joyous TomorrowsAs we face changes in life, we need to choose the path we take. You can not let circumstances push you willie nillie. God had a plan for us and we need to discover what that is.--Hummer-FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.comBlogger182125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-58875046250542579192021-11-03T21:04:00.022-07:002021-11-04T18:45:03.906-07:00My "I got an Idea" Girl Just Joined Her Father in Heaven<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jlOZ0RrPIP0S9ntDAIF4fTQ48vZkBC5V6BHT7Ae1eRCEHysI5HHWr7w5cIiRrNU1zZPqB_RjdSLtTLpn-AmO1IBvTnQ2zumBXsIofupqcyOQH3-74U9UZf4FtaRYs42nczMbUcSArog/s2048/aine+life.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1316" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jlOZ0RrPIP0S9ntDAIF4fTQ48vZkBC5V6BHT7Ae1eRCEHysI5HHWr7w5cIiRrNU1zZPqB_RjdSLtTLpn-AmO1IBvTnQ2zumBXsIofupqcyOQH3-74U9UZf4FtaRYs42nczMbUcSArog/w268-h368/aine+life.png" width="268" /><span></span></a></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Aine Maura Schulmire </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> May 14 1971 - 11 3 2021 </span></h4><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I will write here so I can just tell everyone at the same time. My first born child and bright eyed loving girl has passed from this life to the arms of her Heavenly Father and to be with her earthly father. She loved them both with all her heart. Those of us left behind, a loving husband, 8 children and one grandchild that she never got to see, are left bereft.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She was a loving person, who helped others and taught her children to help others. Her 5 siblings looked to her as a leader in the family as the oldest. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Let me tell you some of her history. She loved reading, writing and had joy in service. She was also competitive. She started out playing a matching game with her dad at 3. He would have to work to stay up with her. In school, she would work hard to be the best. She was so upset when she lacked half a point being 10th in her class. She was a cheerleader, a twirler, played the flute, and she ran long distance track. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When she became an adult and married, she embraced being a wife, and then mother. She taught others about having a food storage in case of challenges. She was a full charge bookkeeper for her grandfathers business for years as well as another building company before they moved from Texas to Idaho. Learning was a joy for her, and as life progressed, she became a teacher for her children whom she home taught. When she had a non verbal autistic son, she dove into the world of how to help him. She worked hard at building her children to become good people.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">This year she and Russell celebrated their 30th anniversary. They, 3 years before, were blessed to travel to Rome, Italy to join in the celebration of a Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Temple opening. It was also a chance for Russell to show her where he went to for his mission. They had a wonderful time. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am not capable of actually showing what a beautiful soul she was, suffice it to say she was a giver, she brought smiles to many faces, and she was a joy to her mom's life from the day she was born. I will miss our two hour talks on the phone, and her bright ideas, and she has a challenge because she didn't finish her stories she was writing... I love her with all my heart... 'Til we meet again my sweetheart... mom </span></p><p><br /></p>FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-69130384665476737512017-07-23T11:45:00.000-07:002017-11-19T09:47:25.429-08:00Write 25 reasons Why I chose You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Your eyes sparkled when I first met you.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQW38SDHVMJ7a3sX7fyxQxJXrY5WG2xNRtNlezNOqjCOfM2ykYu1N7Vjc2oGJlMZxKzB-J_uwktRNUvWhK0mplR6unp2lcL9uThhFS-ZH0Xy26msZ0mMp09cq7oZ4EUbnDQPAhXcnMHJo/s1600/nedmilitary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="404" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQW38SDHVMJ7a3sX7fyxQxJXrY5WG2xNRtNlezNOqjCOfM2ykYu1N7Vjc2oGJlMZxKzB-J_uwktRNUvWhK0mplR6unp2lcL9uThhFS-ZH0Xy26msZ0mMp09cq7oZ4EUbnDQPAhXcnMHJo/s200/nedmilitary.jpg" width="176" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You spoke of ideas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were a dreamer.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWh3z92i7Dr-fOpNLXfip13qfS0XjXi5RFI5RINU4xTgoFEeO0H5cDWJQgBJbfqictOgmZfYuNNs3-EICfp5ueUS6glxLIsQXhBv-L20cInat6k4Wiu2U11BCY5OO78wrV6Xl05zFs2I/s1600/ned+thoughts+1967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="1145" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWh3z92i7Dr-fOpNLXfip13qfS0XjXi5RFI5RINU4xTgoFEeO0H5cDWJQgBJbfqictOgmZfYuNNs3-EICfp5ueUS6glxLIsQXhBv-L20cInat6k4Wiu2U11BCY5OO78wrV6Xl05zFs2I/s320/ned+thoughts+1967.jpg" width="282" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You hoped for the best.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You made me laugh.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWa6itHHRzl-Sh2s5gRUVIyHPJ6e0p5rdM8HomUEG0sMKLpA_h0kHQD2_dqcqUNbXn4SK_w3hGb5C1sdw5qylt15uozwMwglRmTpirXAbr6MvPMvUo8XxQ0S9bOabug9YIOl-O7n5YGCo/s1600/me+and+ned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="384" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWa6itHHRzl-Sh2s5gRUVIyHPJ6e0p5rdM8HomUEG0sMKLpA_h0kHQD2_dqcqUNbXn4SK_w3hGb5C1sdw5qylt15uozwMwglRmTpirXAbr6MvPMvUo8XxQ0S9bOabug9YIOl-O7n5YGCo/s320/me+and+ned.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were honest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were a thinker.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were a writer, especially of poems </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">(which you read to me)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You cared about people</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were family oriented.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You wanted children.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDInixpsMB_GwPtAK25oqahq-UcD2lywy5-4NEsBoABBbOiGi1O40TsK9o8HeS1VXQrDva8QyuxVRY76XxzzNu_iYTORicPlG08EQqBiV-BMbW1Qoss4tvjSgC1NantN7NUkMb4TgwGZw/s1600/Frances+Ned+and+Ainebw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="603" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDInixpsMB_GwPtAK25oqahq-UcD2lywy5-4NEsBoABBbOiGi1O40TsK9o8HeS1VXQrDva8QyuxVRY76XxzzNu_iYTORicPlG08EQqBiV-BMbW1Qoss4tvjSgC1NantN7NUkMb4TgwGZw/s320/Frances+Ned+and+Ainebw.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were interested in finding truths.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You read and studied even when it wasn't necessary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You cared about me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were a talker, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I could feel safe being quiet in a social setting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You encouraged me to grow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You held my hand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You excited me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You loved life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You loved to travel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were able to look at each as a unique individual. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were a hard worker.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You were willing to do what it took to overcome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You loved me back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When you held me in your arms, I knew I was safe.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_wi31nawUq6SJoqiule2yx43EQdmL1EQruYc9qoVfoZOJuSzQKhDT-iIjPDPcVJyAxPmsG8usW8mxw45D_Kd_UILIzmuroHVxWAEuI_wJe835hazf_jclyHrohW8JtKps7xhofgre6ps/s1600/nedandfrancesincenterareasm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="385" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_wi31nawUq6SJoqiule2yx43EQdmL1EQruYc9qoVfoZOJuSzQKhDT-iIjPDPcVJyAxPmsG8usW8mxw45D_Kd_UILIzmuroHVxWAEuI_wJe835hazf_jclyHrohW8JtKps7xhofgre6ps/s320/nedandfrancesincenterareasm.jpg" width="312" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We are one for all eternity, For that I am grateful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Aine posted a prompt at <a href="https://blueraspberrysky.blogspot.com/2017/06/20-reasons-why-i-chose-you.html?spref=fb">Blue Raspberry Sky</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">want to join?</span></div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-85409868991757142422016-11-19T08:33:00.000-08:002016-11-19T08:33:17.479-08:00Trying to Balance My Passion of Genealogy and Family<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I posted this on a <a href="http://worldwidegenealogy.blogspot.com/2016/11/apologies-and-reporting.html">collaborative Genealogy blog</a>, but wanted to have it for my kids too in case the blog should go away. </div>
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I will share with you the past
few months of my life. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I worked with the <a href="http://www.preservethepensions.org/">Preserve the War of 1812 Pensions campaign</a>
for 3 years. I loved the purpose and the
activity of searching the files and finding living descendants. When the funding was accomplished, my
activity there was little needed, and I turned to other projects.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At the same time, my children decided they and their
children needed equal time with me and this is a bit of my journey into
creating family history with my grandchildren and as I have written about
before, bridging the generations.<o:p></o:p></div>
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During the summer, we had our first family reunion. This was important for those who could go
because family had not gathered as a unit since my husband, their father, died
in 2008. All but two of 6 children could
make it. The single son who was working and a daughter who was pregnant and
expecting her 4<sup>th</sup> child any minute.
There were 28 plus myself, who made it. Two grandchildren were working
and could not attend. Since no one other than myself had ever visited the
California family’s home, that was the focus. They planned 4 days of activities
for the children and I was excited that they included some time for
themselves. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The trip started with my 20-year-old grandson and I leaving
Texas and driving to Salt Lake to meet the Idaho family whose father was flying
in. They needed to send one child with me as their car only seated 7 and they
had 8 with dad. The connecting 3 different groups at the Salt Lake terminal was
a story. The trip from Salt Lake to California and then back to Idaho was an
awesome memory for my three grandchildren and me.<o:p></o:p><br />
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In California, we went to the Sequoia Forest, the beach, and
learned about railroads going over the mountain grades. The young and new
grandchildren were able to create relationships with the older ones. These are
a couple of pictures from that family activity.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Once back at home, the two daughters in Texas decided since
I had taken time from my genealogy activities for this, I must be up for grabs
for activities at home. The Idaho daughter not to be out done scheduled every
Monday in September for a Skype class on World War II ending in a lesson and
stories about their great grandfather who served and I have written stories
about him here. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The classes were successful, and one Texas grandson sat in
on a lesson. At the time I was not sure
who was listening, but as the months go by, questions and statement tell me
they were. One of the grandson’s chose to be his great grandfather for
Halloween, dressed up like a WWII army soldier.
Cool right. History and family stories passed down two generations.<o:p></o:p><br />
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gOm3ujhjaNrTCQytWjSkcSnF93d0JzPvG2BjG-OlyXc0qhcqlWw6iu02uMmGHuMSblYWe7vvO5IB-IbZuTH_ShnOii9oxm4Y_MSA1FcHezJzM_SIXxHT4QtJV4NiY2sDNziaUPaglvI/s1600/14925798_10154915990667454_1976817507549883455_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gOm3ujhjaNrTCQytWjSkcSnF93d0JzPvG2BjG-OlyXc0qhcqlWw6iu02uMmGHuMSblYWe7vvO5IB-IbZuTH_ShnOii9oxm4Y_MSA1FcHezJzM_SIXxHT4QtJV4NiY2sDNziaUPaglvI/s320/14925798_10154915990667454_1976817507549883455_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two were dressed like book characters. I helped the Scot Warrior and the WWII soldier on the right. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I went with another daughter to see the preview for
Christmas lights at the Houston Zoo. We
took one of my other daughter’s children with us. There was fun, sharing, and
memories made with young and old.<o:p></o:p><br />
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This week I went to a Civil War reenactment at the Texas
Liendo plantation that served first as a Confederate headquarters, then when it
fell, as a Union prison camp. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My grandson, who is 10, began trying to sort in his mind who
and what generation of his family served in the Civil War. We had fun talking
about both sides of the war and how he had those that served on both sides and
one in the Confederacy that died in Savannah.
My grandfather from Michigan served in the Michigan 3rd Cavalry Regiment
from 03 Oct 1861. He was promoted to Full Qtr Master Serg on 19 Jan 1864 and mustered
out on 12 Feb 1866 at San Antonio, TX. <o:p></o:p><br />
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAhVZde6A3KLR88NqKicFBts9c1dvu-KuZWboOWEKb0C_tqxELonYmxgK81JGbEHBvAPctSSAfhw3dVp1Qn5PxN7ShHkIUmFPS79a0lpZkttAeYBMuTkRwJJFT-TfEVDcyLcN3qlEpKk/s1600/15037294_10209574821879384_2798076658046658049_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAhVZde6A3KLR88NqKicFBts9c1dvu-KuZWboOWEKb0C_tqxELonYmxgK81JGbEHBvAPctSSAfhw3dVp1Qn5PxN7ShHkIUmFPS79a0lpZkttAeYBMuTkRwJJFT-TfEVDcyLcN3qlEpKk/s320/15037294_10209574821879384_2798076658046658049_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His comment was the rifle (an antique) was "sooo heavy!" </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We also visited the blacksmith shop and I was able to tell him about his great great grandfather who was a blacksmith.<br />
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So there you go, while I am AWOL occasionally, I am keeping
the dream alive trying to share with the generations following, so the story is
not forgotten.<br />
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-16266642583807268842016-10-13T09:43:00.000-07:002016-10-13T09:43:16.583-07:00School By Skype and Fall Happenings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In September, my daughter decided that I could teach an hour class for 4 Mondays by Skype on World War II. It was so much fun looking at the screen and seeing my 6 grands looking back at me from Idaho. I shared my screen with them and told them of the years leading up to WWII. They were interested in the happening and choices made by the governments, and the people of the world's reactions from old newspaper clippings.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpbiehPNZ8RqF0De9oRpDThGGhSqVZKTnswLZ24REYAwfQCKKPMV8bzYv_BgQ1F1Kg16e4pHWJFgWBVo2xkbAp-rV7UHT5vh7C0vrCGEPv14P_JSVRA8EM-ZKmzT9xbLmRd74daD2TKI/s1600/germans+invade+poland.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpbiehPNZ8RqF0De9oRpDThGGhSqVZKTnswLZ24REYAwfQCKKPMV8bzYv_BgQ1F1Kg16e4pHWJFgWBVo2xkbAp-rV7UHT5vh7C0vrCGEPv14P_JSVRA8EM-ZKmzT9xbLmRd74daD2TKI/s320/germans+invade+poland.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
Their main goal was to hear about their great grandfather's experience which I had researched through old newspapers and his file and wrote about on a genealogy blog, <a href="http://worldwidegenealogy.blogspot.com/2015/12/do-you-ever-wonder-about-christmas-for.html">Worldwide Genealogy </a> We had mediocre discussions, but I ended it with an appeal to them to learn of history and search out information for themselves so they would know what is truth. They were given documentaries, and things to read to remind me of what we had covered. The ages were from 3 to 15, learning abilities autistic, ADHD, dyslexic, and normal. They all learned a little, and one even decided for his Halloween costume he wanted to be a WWII soldier like his great grandfather.<br />
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Speaking of Halloween costumes, we are down to the wire on creating the costumes now. Another of the Idaho grands has asked for a Scottish warrior costume. I found a kilt reasonably priced on Ebay, that was a LOT cheaper than buying fabric and making one. The Sporran was a different story, buying scrap leather and making it was a lot CHEAPER. Of course, it is not as classy and fancy, but it might be more authentic. (laughing at myself).</div>
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These are the pictures of my sojourn I had making the sporran. It was fun and if the mom takes pictures, I will add to this post later.</div>
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This was a first for me sewing with leather. The patterns I found were for soft glove leather or too large for a 12-year-old boy. I took the measurement and scaled them to a youth size. My sewing machine couldn't do the thicker leather, so I had to use an awl and try to make matching holes on the side and front and back. Not my most perfect creation, but I did feel like 'TaDah' when I finished. I am sending him his flint for starting the fires, and his dad is giving him a honing stone... so he is good to go.</div>
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Thanks for stopping by and visiting.</div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-12729265934727837502015-10-11T20:38:00.000-07:002015-10-11T20:38:02.994-07:00Sunshine in My Soul<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"There is sunshine in my soul, when the peaceful happy moments flow..."</div>
While listening to a variation of this song, by a young woman who was singing of her little daughter and the joy she brought to her, I was transported back in time. My mind took me on a journey of my six sunbeams in my life, and the tears flowed. I decided to write a brief love note to each so they will know how much I love them then and now.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just after Ned's funeral in 2008</td></tr>
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There was the life changing first child a sweet little bundle of joy, a girl. She was so full of "I've got an idea", bright smiles and loving life to the fullest. She has never failed to amaze me with her abilities to overcome and her capacity to love and give. We are waiting patiently (lol) for her first novel. She is now a mother of 8.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first trip at 6 months old.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">18 months old</td></tr>
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Number two child and daughter began her life as a little ray of sunshine and continues to strive today to bring sunshine into others' lives. She has always lived life with a flair. If she has a challenge in life she turns it around to help others, and never fails to reach out to give me love. She is now a mother of 6 and 2 step children.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our favorite past time riding in the back pack with mom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then there were two.</td></tr>
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Our first son and third child was named after his dad and those before him, making him the fourth. He was a bright eyed, imaginative little boy, and as he grew older, he chose to think in black and white. Not the easiest choice when faced with others ready for some gray areas. He has been a great example of strength to me as he has become a man with a family of his own. He too helps others and seeks his strength from the Lord. He is a father of 3.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First arrival at home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkGVfrUAgP8sIJ20ZzCk0B8BDZYafq2Qu0MAbL4ue18HyJcv80c2rEDQaUbDdqYGubXW9asZZEHQexQvmQcEHIrYVoePQGjqVdI89zQT28ro77XcGIdpDcnFOZUuOvFlcNb0coQgs_5EM/s1600/Nedandkids.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkGVfrUAgP8sIJ20ZzCk0B8BDZYafq2Qu0MAbL4ue18HyJcv80c2rEDQaUbDdqYGubXW9asZZEHQexQvmQcEHIrYVoePQGjqVdI89zQT28ro77XcGIdpDcnFOZUuOvFlcNb0coQgs_5EM/s320/Nedandkids.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then there were three.</td></tr>
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When number four child came, we all knew a special spirit had come into our midst. Was she perfect, her siblings will tell you NO, but she was one who looked at life in a loving way. She had big eyes, a big smile, and wide open arms to embrace us all...especially me. Her choices have put her in a place to be of light and help to family and friends. She is now a mother of 5 girls.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My cutie pie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpP-NLoEWv3b4N8vnFgOecx5C0noejQmyAvOpR4XPzxaqRGNyCvthTEg7J1YLyyG273ep5iHkyif-ivwVAlgpaIE7pF54SiCyd5ZNMm2HsbxDzp6yPiceJ3LQZ_-d3_E2pIat3plfX0MI/s1600/SCAN1292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpP-NLoEWv3b4N8vnFgOecx5C0noejQmyAvOpR4XPzxaqRGNyCvthTEg7J1YLyyG273ep5iHkyif-ivwVAlgpaIE7pF54SiCyd5ZNMm2HsbxDzp6yPiceJ3LQZ_-d3_E2pIat3plfX0MI/s320/SCAN1292.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then there were four.</td></tr>
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When Ned and I greeted our fifth child and fourth daughter, it was with gratitude that all went well in the delivery. She was the tiniest of my children. Many times in her life she has tugged at my heart strings as she has struggled to survive in this life. She is a joy. She is a mother of 3.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77GVtfdydBd2On4OpZEe0NTe0wrgjHNHkgIYfCiJ_HWNTA4qti9s45jmbQMXn9flnL5rbuIUyrCC5iAiAy3ci0sv0bhyphenhyphen4q72m-efQ4k9kfwt21rikDlyWO-Zjm671Mb-u-RB0CRraP9s/s1600/Sarahsfirstdayatschool.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77GVtfdydBd2On4OpZEe0NTe0wrgjHNHkgIYfCiJ_HWNTA4qti9s45jmbQMXn9flnL5rbuIUyrCC5iAiAy3ci0sv0bhyphenhyphen4q72m-efQ4k9kfwt21rikDlyWO-Zjm671Mb-u-RB0CRraP9s/s320/Sarahsfirstdayatschool.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first day of school</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVUYAoW2K6fbXEeon70W4P2tHl9MU6b0lflk1_8QlxOmtMM7frWjrmSgntJfq-gdSva8gIzgXn5n9yi96_jXD1HxqGS33_KeUie3WOkxdyfFHtZYPNqN-WxlztvgZeNeL_NbISAb7oPQ/s1600/five.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVUYAoW2K6fbXEeon70W4P2tHl9MU6b0lflk1_8QlxOmtMM7frWjrmSgntJfq-gdSva8gIzgXn5n9yi96_jXD1HxqGS33_KeUie3WOkxdyfFHtZYPNqN-WxlztvgZeNeL_NbISAb7oPQ/s320/five.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then there were five</td></tr>
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I am now to my sixth child and second son. What fun it was watching him grow. When Ned died, he was 19, and chose to hang around to make sure I was okay. (he wouldn't tell you so) He has managed his own ambitions, and has actually helped me monetarily. He is now moving on in life which is good and I find joy in this. I pray he finds a young lady who will appreciate him.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5zF0UQSir8ejNXIyLGRuHE9Pf9nsobTwhv6-to9TdCaW-xFCF7rJqtDPRkMNw324b4S6Q7Ve4OLnr4z_BM7OtDic4W8lb560Y05x-6icjyjdcRthjNsA4v132d3Y-mBcRkZr7ho4ihw/s1600/Spring+in+Oklahoma+Aunt+lynn+Redbud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5zF0UQSir8ejNXIyLGRuHE9Pf9nsobTwhv6-to9TdCaW-xFCF7rJqtDPRkMNw324b4S6Q7Ve4OLnr4z_BM7OtDic4W8lb560Y05x-6icjyjdcRthjNsA4v132d3Y-mBcRkZr7ho4ihw/s320/Spring+in+Oklahoma+Aunt+lynn+Redbud.jpg" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">can not find a picture of him with me alone. Our camera was broken. This is him with his two older sisters.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmprrQPPBdVfX5WUT04NSOVtmhw6vVTw0agyw4eYKCjQE5kVMYMAB6Cpln2ZfurxT9nCNow2OVkkFNzyM7-FP30qYBYPN13Cxn4dYS6HegyvIIOrHzxzsyHYTIinFoIRPEWtSm4g1DyZo/s1600/SCAN0896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmprrQPPBdVfX5WUT04NSOVtmhw6vVTw0agyw4eYKCjQE5kVMYMAB6Cpln2ZfurxT9nCNow2OVkkFNzyM7-FP30qYBYPN13Cxn4dYS6HegyvIIOrHzxzsyHYTIinFoIRPEWtSm4g1DyZo/s320/SCAN0896.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then there were six. My joys.</td></tr>
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The good thing about this exercise is I have found many pictures. The bad thing is I have found I was not good early in my family life about being in pictures, with the excuse, I don't look good. Lesson learned the hard way. I was there, just behind the camera. <div>
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I enjoyed my moment of reminiscing, and searching through the pictures I still have. I gave most to them as they left home and started their own home. I love my family. We have enjoyed laughter and tears together. They have given me sunshine in my soul in the joy of knowing that as my little angels have grown, they have kept a testimony of Christ and each has a desire to follow his teachings. </div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-54516067170323565062015-09-01T09:29:00.002-07:002015-09-01T09:29:13.518-07:00Books!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Back home now after thoroughly enjoying my visits with my two daughters and their families. It has been so much fun getting to know them again, sometimes a month or two can bring big changes in your family's lives. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCbdqa3J9FuuULFgwYacb9t9NbTVwHjHQvQgqVtXN7pfoMEw-YYaqEsu-axgAY6xanYlpx8yoh2tQO20AxJ6eVpFQRxGCyJPMFejLlhaecL8QH2esTY2Ez8sU5pvCFLUvKI-aKwfVlts/s1600/11951277_10206395713125540_8191911158628067520_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCbdqa3J9FuuULFgwYacb9t9NbTVwHjHQvQgqVtXN7pfoMEw-YYaqEsu-axgAY6xanYlpx8yoh2tQO20AxJ6eVpFQRxGCyJPMFejLlhaecL8QH2esTY2Ez8sU5pvCFLUvKI-aKwfVlts/s320/11951277_10206395713125540_8191911158628067520_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">While visiting with my daughters, I saw that my love of books as they were growing up touched their lives too. There is joy in reading books. I called my granddaughter last night to wish her a happy 8th birthday and asked if she had been helping her mom. (smiles)... Her answer was "No, I was up on my bunk reading a new book. I love it! It is "The Secret Garden"." Later, her mom told me it was one of the old books she had from her growing up. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Loved the old cover.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As my children grew up and moved out of the house, I let them pick books from the library that I had accumulated while homeschooling them to use for their own families. Now, let me explain. A large number of my book were books from the late 1800s to the early 1900s. When I would find old book, if it was of good rapport that would help my children with character development and knowledge, I would buy it. My sweet hero loved the old books too, but he did begin to cringe a bit after the library shelves had filled and stacks had started. He was the best guy about books.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Back to my thoughts, as a result, my shelves have grown bare. I find it sad, but I travel so much now so it is not bad thing. I have found an alternative for myself. Many of the Public Libraries are now sharing their old out of print books through the Internet Archive. I was thrilled to find this website on <span style="background-color: #fafafa; line-height: 20px;"><b><a href="http://www.envisionthepast.com/library-7/#anchor649">Cooking, Home Management & Child Care</a> . </b>This website has a catalog for other books also, but I wanted to keep track of this specific one. Information in the 1830's books are priceless. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fafafa; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 20px;">This link is the<a href="https://archive.org/stream/americanfrugalho00chil#page/n0/mode/2up"> American Frugal Housewife</a> . </span><br />
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When my mother-in-law was alive, I had found this the old play <a href="http://www.archive.org/stream/sallyannfindsher00barb#page/n0/mode/2up">Sally Ann Finds Herself</a> for her as she had been in the play when she was in Jr High. So, family history can be filled out with old books.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My mother-in-law was excited to see it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/">Project Gutenberg</a> is awesome too. Oh and <a href="http://library.si.edu/books-online">Smithsonian Libraries </a> and<a href="http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/"> Page by Page books </a> There are more... Love to read.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I just thought I would share in case you didn't know. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">P.S. If you are new to my blog, you can click on the words in blue and it will take you to the website. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">J</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-87122751668652005382015-06-13T08:56:00.004-07:002015-06-13T08:56:44.905-07:00Welcome Grandchild Number 25!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We, meaning the dad, the mom (of course) and I arrived at the hospital Tuesday evening at the suggestion of the Doctor who said the mom was at 5 cm and should have the baby soon. She was 4 days over her due date. At the hospital, they were busy, and a mother not having hard labor, (her contractions were spread apart) was not something they wanted to see, so they sent her to the waiting room to "wait and see". The room was so full, I had to go to the entrance waiting room to wait for word as to whether they would admit her or not. Sigh.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After an hour, my son-in-law came down and said there was room, would I come up and wait with them. Sure. Once there, it was about another 30 minutes before they asked them to come back to the Triage room, only room for the mom and dad. That's fine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They waited until about 11 pm. She wasn't making progress so the nurses wanted to send her home. A call to the doctor changed their mind. He said, keep her. At about midnight, she was moved to a labor room, and I was allowed to come back to stay with them. The dad snuggled down next to her on the bed and I sprawled out on the "couch". The night was filled with nurse visitations, but no baby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The next morning the doctor was doing surgery during the day, so he asked them to watch her and he would be by after his surgeries. We filled the day with checking on Facebook posts, planning, visiting, and the son-in-law had to attend a web meeting. Later, we asked if the mom could go for a walk. Funny girl had me look up exercises that would increase the chance of starting labor. She was so funny taking large steps, squatting, then rubbing her tummy, followed by taking large steps and then making a lunge. This was repeated until she says..." I need to rest." L</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">aughing gives you exercise too. A short rest, the doctor came by and gave her a choices, start a pitocin drip, break the bag of water, or go home. He gave her a short time to think about it. The nurses changed; we had dinner, and decision time was upon her. After visiting with the nurse, she said, "break the water". The doctor, nurse, and the parents were expecting a long night. I watched. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Immediately her contractions began their intensity picking up. Their plan was to sing hymns and the dad to speak encouraging words in low tones to keep her calm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The events during the labor are too long to blog. Once the membrane was broken, it was 1 hour and 50 minutes to the entrance of Matti, our little bundle of joy. She was born on a Thursday. June 10th at 9:50 pm, 7 lbs 6.7 oz, 19 1/2 inches. Her dad cut the cord, and mom immediately reached out to hold her, as the nurse was going to whisk her over to bathe her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Life is good. As my obstetrician said after my 6th child's birth... "God is good". And so He is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The next day, it was decided that the dad would take me home, so I could rest then we would take the four girls down to meet their sister. (side note: the family lives a little over an hour from the hospital in a different town over a mountain. I had flown out to California, the reason I did not have a car, and a family friend had my son-in-law's car and he had theirs).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">That evening we took the girls down. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They loved on their mother, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">greeted the new baby,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and then we took mom and the baby home with us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Quite an experience, went with a milestone... number 25 grandchild. Writing the memory before it fades for Matilda Crystel. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-65425740634154490622015-01-18T16:58:00.000-08:002015-01-18T16:58:21.370-08:00Kissing and Telling<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Gosh I can't... well yes I can believe I am this far behind. Going back to December, I missed the December prompt of "Kissing Stories"by Blue Raspberry Sundays... I didn't remember mistletoe being particularly a part of Christmas, so I hesitated writing a post for that. My number two daughter said, not so, she has pictures to prove it. Well yes, when she put up mistletoe at her apartment, we smooched under that, but I will tell you my Hero did not like ODA, his acronym for Obvious Displays of Affection, out in public. Funny guy, it set him up for so much teasing by me. I was a terrible tease. I only have one picture that shows me teasing him (a favorite of mine). <br />
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I would start to give him a peck on the cheek out in public and I would be admonished... "no ODA". Well, confession is good for the soul, so I will tell you, I would wait until we got out of site of people or in an elevator and give him a big kiss. This was okay until he began worrying there were camera's in the elevators, then I would have to sneak a kiss. I guess I was a mess. <br />
This is the only picture I have of a kiss between the two of us, and it was on the special day of my life when we two became one. That time I was shaking so bad he had to hold my had to calm me down. <br />
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Life with my Hero was never dull. At least, that was what he said to me. </div>
FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-91924556444494800382014-12-22T22:55:00.001-08:002014-12-22T22:55:23.037-08:00Confessions of a Grieving Widow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I haven't written about the death of my sweet husband. My heart has been heavy in that area since 9:00 am on December 23, 2008. <br />
The 22nd had been a busy time. Children coming in and out of the house to visit with their dad because we all knew that time for him was getting shorter by the day. <br />
I had cleansed his wounds, and tucked him in, then I had lain down on the sofa next to him to rest. I apparently fell fast asleep, because I was awakened by my son and his wife as they prepared breakfast in the kitchen. I sat up and immediately noticed that Ned wasn't breathing right. I ran over to the side of the bed, and saw his oxygen had slipped off. I quickly put it back on, but he wasn't responsive to my touch or to my calling his name. I could tell he was in a Cheyne-Stokes breathing pattern. I called to my children and then reached for my phone to call the Hospice team that he was dying. While I was on the phone, he took his last breath with my son holding his hand and trying to coax him back to us. I was not by his side. These events have bothered me so much. I fell asleep and didn't catch his oxygen mask had come off... I was calling the nurses and wasn't by his side when he passed to the other side. From there, every thing then moved on without me. I hope he knows that my heart was heavy and so sad, because I really didn't want him to go, and I was so sorry I was not holding his hand when he left this world. I pray that he does know. I look forward to seeing him again some day. He is a special part of me and will be forever.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhen3UBCIcE8qgRZYuHqBB5i8pnfRAFNX7UUY13riEjvZ0t15yYoCfIXG_iIcp2lps6htGGcXsIL2eyOrYpqcKVl2IdacGuLFHUhJKhobZT1mJh5eiH30CBLKxP8DpbhCQAwJtgIJiiBos/s1600/FrancesheldbyNedsmall.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhen3UBCIcE8qgRZYuHqBB5i8pnfRAFNX7UUY13riEjvZ0t15yYoCfIXG_iIcp2lps6htGGcXsIL2eyOrYpqcKVl2IdacGuLFHUhJKhobZT1mJh5eiH30CBLKxP8DpbhCQAwJtgIJiiBos/s1600/FrancesheldbyNedsmall.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My forever sweetheart<br /></td></tr>
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Now I have let this piece of my guilt at having let him down out, I hope you all understand. </div>
FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-28981905220135369612014-12-14T20:36:00.000-08:002014-12-15T07:06:43.456-08:00Christmas Past er Photos Blue Raspberry Sunday prompt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Aine urged us to go through our photos for the last 10 years and create a post using the photos for the past 10 years.<br />
I am in a world of hurt. When my children left home, I sent the bulk of pictures of them with them. After that along came digital cameras (love them) BUT I had saved all my pictures, organized beautifully, on my external hard drive so I would not lose any... Guess what, computer is fine... external is in the shop, with prayers. <br />
Since my picture capacity is low, I (this is with a wink) decided to have a historical reenactment of Christmas's past. Last year (repeat "last year") I purchased some awesome Christmas fabric with the goal in mind to make pillow cases for all my grandchildren for the following Christmas. Do you think I actually followed through with that? You are right... I did not. So on Thursday (3 days ago) I got my fabric out, and began my marathon to finish my pillowcases in time to mail them with in 3 days. I have finish 5 of 25. When my children were little it was always the last 3 days before Christmas and half the time I worked all night to finish what I was working on. The dad was always putting something together. <br />
This is part of my project still in progress.<br />
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPPEV1OydZ1hvfech1hbETz5z25nPtQNiGwzPshRSXW-hqsrW2be8HagzIHeE5-_WQ_RgFwxG6lRJQF72ZyTe1oG3zstdDkaYVcC8Af-Whng-scNguKR8wC7KTWI0_LM6XKePKcxu7Ehw/s1600/schulmire+fabric+ironing+board.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPPEV1OydZ1hvfech1hbETz5z25nPtQNiGwzPshRSXW-hqsrW2be8HagzIHeE5-_WQ_RgFwxG6lRJQF72ZyTe1oG3zstdDkaYVcC8Af-Whng-scNguKR8wC7KTWI0_LM6XKePKcxu7Ehw/s1600/schulmire+fabric+ironing+board.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys' fabric for their pillow cut and ready to sew.<br />
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This is the finished project ready for California<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4D3mf5ZxyAQNv-Jk5QqMDzi6NeQm9MUQ_DD8bIfz1imkPgtBTqXbnwDRfp5Ind_SLZkDp7gYVrQItdpJBno5KAtJKTo1gGO9bW8YSmZ2TkqUuYC_l9nIWoIGhPBwsy49CWXvsHjmi91E/s1600/Emily+family+pillow+cases.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4D3mf5ZxyAQNv-Jk5QqMDzi6NeQm9MUQ_DD8bIfz1imkPgtBTqXbnwDRfp5Ind_SLZkDp7gYVrQItdpJBno5KAtJKTo1gGO9bW8YSmZ2TkqUuYC_l9nIWoIGhPBwsy49CWXvsHjmi91E/s1600/Emily+family+pillow+cases.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are five. There are 4 girls and one on the way.<br />
I am thinking of telling the mom, I am going to join the red hat society and the one who chooses the Red one I will add with me. ;-)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWg2vfxx91POlOo3IGfviXfFo6MADimty240KmSU5JC6_pRzcwalCxLVGwUEnWEnxpu5yiv4fLebFlu-cM5Sj3Fd6Q7zMhD0YUWcabTuewabckCXERwm_GFTBOohiRyRUujbt-orXFjU/s1600/Pillow+cases+done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWg2vfxx91POlOo3IGfviXfFo6MADimty240KmSU5JC6_pRzcwalCxLVGwUEnWEnxpu5yiv4fLebFlu-cM5Sj3Fd6Q7zMhD0YUWcabTuewabckCXERwm_GFTBOohiRyRUujbt-orXFjU/s1600/Pillow+cases+done.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pillow cases folded out.</td></tr>
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I have blogged about Christmas on both this blog and my genealogy blog. Here are the links if you would like to see the pictures and read about the fun and memories with pictures.<br />
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<a href="http://joyoustomorrows.blogspot.com/search?q=Christmas">Joyous Tomorrows Christmas Posts.</a> <a href="http://branchingoutthroughtheyears.blogspot.com/search?q=Christmas">Branching Out Through The Years Christmas Posts.</a></div>
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The most memorable Christmas was when my daughter and son in law played Santa at a time her dad and I were in financial straights and were very depressed. <br />
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We went to bed having done the best we could and were very surprised when we woke up the next morning to a Santa visit that was not known. They had snuck in the back door, we never locked it, and had put presents under the tree that delighted the younger siblings. Years later my son in law played Santa again to our family. He drove through snow storms, sleet, and winds to deliver my daughter and 7 wonderful grandchildren to a hard hit family on December 23rd 2008, just hours after her father died. He had tried to wait for his present, the Lord was in a hurry for him. </div>
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I miss my Santa baby... He was so much fun at Christmas. Of course, when he made everyone wait to open presents until he had read the Christmas Story from St. Luke, he wasn't held in high regard by the little ones. He loved everything about Christmas, it was his favorite time of the year. </div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-46650217541900088052014-12-07T14:35:00.001-08:002014-12-07T14:35:29.240-08:00God Given Talent<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Aine at <a href="http://joyfultoday.blogspot.com/">Blue Raspberry Sunday </a> gave the prompt writing about a talent
that you or an ancestor had. </div>
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Since I am trying to write my stories for my family about me, it will
be a talent I have. </div>
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A talent I have been blessed with would be called God given. I did nothing to develop it, it is just me.</div>
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I was blessed with the talent of looking outward and caring for
others. Looking back one incident that
stands out to me, probably not the first time I had done, but a memorable
experience; was when my mother caught the hillside on fire. </div>
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We live halfway up a sizable hill, not a mountain, but definitely
could wind you if you walked up it.
(Side note: Rocky Mountain states
say Oklahoma mountains are hills. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>) In the 1950s, people burned their trash in
the country. My dad, to be safe, had a 50 gallon
barrel with a mesh wire top to keep the fire contained. This day, my mom had lifted the lid to add
some paper to what she was already burning and the wind caught something loose in the barrel and blew it out
onto the dry grass. She was horrified as
the small spark on the grass exploded into a line of fire that quickly began to
spread, she used the towel to try and smother the flames, but it was spreading too fast. We did not have a phone, but our neighbor about a mile or so down the
hill did. The only solution to her was
to run down and call the fire department.
She told me to stay at the house and she would be right back. Well, now you will see what my talent was not…
obedience. Just after she was out of site, I saw the fire headed toward the
barn… Our cows, chickens, and pig were in that barn, so without one single
hesitation, I ran to the barn with my dog, and opened all the pens so the
animals would get burned. I was not
scared for myself, although many years later, my mom told me her regret was she
had not taken me with her because the fire was near our butane tank. Of course she might not have gotten help in
time had she not done what she had.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5gACRaoEmlKVtMjW9ivYEC1jP34Y9KLqGc8JCCUpnMOqZIrYPMktZxViBKgx8F2j9g6Y-zg6x0eaP2kcvRaHVJABi0xGEmOWST8gPaUeV383w4ccrMwXlv72KKsvGhTJOxIHS_zbobI/s1600/Frances+with+her+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5gACRaoEmlKVtMjW9ivYEC1jP34Y9KLqGc8JCCUpnMOqZIrYPMktZxViBKgx8F2j9g6Y-zg6x0eaP2kcvRaHVJABi0xGEmOWST8gPaUeV383w4ccrMwXlv72KKsvGhTJOxIHS_zbobI/s1600/Frances+with+her+dog.jpg" height="292" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my trusty dog in front of the house.</td></tr>
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After letting the animals loose, I went to the end of the driveway, waited
and cried. A kind black man, never knew
his name, pulled up and knelt down and comforted me saying my daddy would be
there soon. He was right; my daddy did come soon, with a whole lot of other men
with burlap feed bags, hoes, and shovels. </div>
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After they took off down the pasture to help the firemen to stop the
flames. I went into action. I got my red wagon, and started the job of carrying
water down to the men. I always worried
about my daddy since he had lost his leg, and I became his feet while he was
healing. Soon, the flames were stopped before
any homes were burned, and all the men were okay in spite of the heat and hard
work. I am sure I slept soundly that night tucked in by my thankful parents.</div>
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This trait of thinking of others first has always just been a part of
me, so I guess it was meant for me to help those that I can.</div>
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Share or write your own talent story… Leave me a link about it. I
would love to read your story. </div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-42869600213630747952014-10-19T16:43:00.001-07:002014-10-19T16:43:40.886-07:00Raspberry Sundays ~ Be the Bridge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I first began my genealogy blog <a href="http://branchingoutthroughtheyears.blogspot.com/">Branching Out Through The Years</a>, my purpose was to preserve the memories of my husband known on the blog as "The Hero"for our grandchildren. He really wanted to know them and wanted them to know him. His choice was taken from him by cancer. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEEIxivGGmGGYwe6BAziXurkOYpVYNDtp-xQmLiIUMFQ35XA75J9C-VuI89-3WaRXhf43i2okFqHCx-4Yy07laUH9E7yD8vejiNTom-8qyRAO3sbxgJfdwcPibCfHKGDCMepqfSYSHG0A/s1600/grandmomanddadEllsworthwthrion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEEIxivGGmGGYwe6BAziXurkOYpVYNDtp-xQmLiIUMFQ35XA75J9C-VuI89-3WaRXhf43i2okFqHCx-4Yy07laUH9E7yD8vejiNTom-8qyRAO3sbxgJfdwcPibCfHKGDCMepqfSYSHG0A/s1600/grandmomanddadEllsworthwthrion.jpg" height="290" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Hero and I with oldest daughter's first son.</td></tr>
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After that, I decided to write the stories of my associations with my relatives, aunts, uncles, grandparents for my children and grandchildren because for the most part they never met or really knew any of them. This grew to posts about ancestors I wanted to know about and sharing findings with those who were also interested.<br />
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When I started on my mother-in-law's family, it was very exciting for her. She shared her personal stories. Many times I sat on the floor at her feet and wrote down as she told me. My sister-in-law also had her write down her personal history so now we have it in her writing. There is something special about seeing their handwriting as opposed to transcribed. <br />
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Every time I find a book, story, document about an ancestor, I will connect it to the <a href="https://familysearch.org/">FamilySearch Family Tree </a>, which is a collaborative effort, as a source for others and myself to go back and read to learn more about that ancestor. Their stories make them real, not just a name. <br />
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I am using this blog and meme to start writing some of my stories that I have not written down, If you don't tell the stories, they are lost. I can't tell you how many times I look at at family name and wish I knew something of their story. I have envy that I have to fuss at myself about, when others talk about their family journals. My dad's family was closed mouth, and now I am recreating their stories.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDgAY2QXYTRwNQ7KlaOmcaksgbUNYgjtzbkqh-C3ok60LLLhz0S1Vcb2SkiFutMeKdn861jSeu4uGvJGZX4gIz1ORbJ-1OoNKeBOpV3vyq2xJPgkxcXpMYiKEdtnIqHUz-iwilqUJIwM/s1600/Anti+Horse+Thief+association.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDgAY2QXYTRwNQ7KlaOmcaksgbUNYgjtzbkqh-C3ok60LLLhz0S1Vcb2SkiFutMeKdn861jSeu4uGvJGZX4gIz1ORbJ-1OoNKeBOpV3vyq2xJPgkxcXpMYiKEdtnIqHUz-iwilqUJIwM/s1600/Anti+Horse+Thief+association.JPG" height="320" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least they weren't horse thieves. :D</td></tr>
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There has been research and studies done that shows how sharing your family history and stories shores up your family members when they have challenges, or even national trauma. It is called <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/17/fashion/the-family-stories-that-bind-us-this-life.html?pagewanted=1&_r=0&smid=fb-share&adxnnlx=1413750738-PGAbSU3FZsMmLoJaReStlg">The Stories That Bind Us</a><br />
I ask you to join in saving the stories for future generations, Be the catalyst in your extended families for sharing and caring.<br />
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-27247542184158474592014-10-12T23:02:00.000-07:002014-10-12T23:02:35.453-07:00Blue Raspberry Sundays: The Biggest Mistake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Not only is this a hard prompt, it is being addressed late. Oh, my.<br />
Without a doubt, my biggest mistake in life was in a sequence. <br />
I never took to time to learn to organize my household. I let circumstances rule me, not the other way around. Don't get me wrong, I love organization. When I was a work, everything was in its place and there was a place for everything. Of course, I kept things simple.<br />
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At home, oh my, a totally different story. I did have things kind of organized, if you call a place for cloth in boxes, and crates for piles of papers (yes, if you are a genealogy friend, I am a pile organizer).<br />
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There were book shelves, and when the books were on the shelves they were organized to subjects. The big problem was I spent more time going out and helping people, spending time doing things with my children, and helping my husband, as well as working, than I did on keeping a clean organized house. This was a big mistake. My husband would have been much happier had I been organized.<br />
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It translated into I did not teach my 6 children how to keep their homes and lives organized. For this I feel very bad. Although, I will say, most have been much better than I am to the point of perfectionism. Maybe it was because I drove them crazy and they didn't want that kind of life themselves. I don't know. The oldest daughter was a light for me when she taught provident living classes, and among that was how to organize yourself. My other daughters remind me to keep calenders, and my sons, just look at me and shake their heads. <br />
Thank goodness I know God loves me and accepts me, BUT I also know he wants me to stretch and grow and become better. I had a wonderful friend who once (also a professed pile organizer) said that she was afraid to achieve an organized life because she figured she would be translated then and she had a lot to do for her kids. I guess we all have our excuses. This is in truth my biggest mistake. Some day, I hope to over come. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; text-align: justify;">J</span><br />
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-78949323793413211152014-10-06T11:33:00.000-07:002014-10-06T11:33:07.735-07:00My Halloween Ghost, True Story. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: 'Juice ITC'; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 27.6000003814697px;">My Halloween Ghost, True Story. </span></b><b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 27.6000003814697px;">J</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Juice ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: GulimChe; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Once there was
a ghost who lived in a house in Edmond, Oklahoma. The little girl there saw him in her closet.
A dark headed man who just hung around her room.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Juice ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: GulimChe; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">At night she
was careful to cover her head so just her nose stuck out. He couldn’t touch her then. This was because one night, she woke up and something
was holding her hand. Weird. She knew he meant her no harm so she just
kept an eye out for him. </span></b></div>
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<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Juice ITC"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: GulimChe; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"> She knew when he was around because she felt ...</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Juice ITC"; font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: GulimChe; mso-no-proof: yes; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75"
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<b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Juice ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: GulimChe; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">When she had
grown up and went away to college, her parents found her portrait off the wall,
sitting on the floor facing the wall.
She was missed, or he was ticked she had left.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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gone, a big warehouse sits there now, wonder where the ghost went, if he found
peace. The legend was, he was a man found who had hung himself in the chicken
house when the area was a farm. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-41347803027740482002014-09-28T21:44:00.000-07:002014-09-28T22:29:00.786-07:00Blue Raspberry Sunday "Texas Homecoming Traditions"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Looks like joining the meme <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/125096320849302/">Blue Raspberry Sundays</a> is getting me back blogging. Would love to have you join in. <br />
Today prompt is Homecoming memories and or other Fall Traditions.<br />
This one is again, a personal story. My daughter and her sweet boyfriend were going to her homecoming. She was a twirler so it was important to go. He lived about 30 miles away and drove and old green Valiant (that has some funny stories in itself). I knew the long distant challenges, and that he was preparing to go on a church mission, so I took pity on them and said I would make the mum corsage. Before coming to Texas, I had never seen this tradition, but had worked as a school nurse at the High School for 8 years, thus I was prepared. <br />
I went down to the local Michael's and stocked up on the materials I needed. It took 2 weeks to get it all assembled and just to her liking. I think it turned out great.<br />
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She kept it for a long time, but many moves made it impractical to keep.<br />
We thought this was large, but you could pin it on. A far cry from what the mums of today are. They are so huge that the girls have to have a strap that goes around their neck to hold it up.<br />
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The following is a picture of the Hero's nephew's mums for his date just this weekend. </div>
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This is one a friend shared on the internet.</div>
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This is a Texas tradition. I giggle at that thought which brings up another... In Texas things are always bigger... The story of the Texas mums has made it to the internet. Check it out<a href="http://yestotexas.com/12-things-non-texans-need-to-know-about-homecoming-mums/"> here<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; line-height: 115%;"> </span></a> So, if you live in Texas you might have a mum tradition. <span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">;) </span></div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-21369166782694875672014-09-21T22:18:00.001-07:002014-09-21T22:18:44.422-07:00My Favorite Candy...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My daughter has started back blogging and has new meme to get us to share our stories with family and friends. The old meme was Sharing a Slice of Life. This meme is <a href="http://joyfultoday.blogspot.com/2014/09/blue-raspberry-sundays-my-favorite-candy.html">Blue Raspberry Sundays</a> follow along and even better join in.<br />
Now, to the subject matter. My favorite candy is, chocolate covered cherries, especially Dark Chocolate covered cherries. <br />
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I am not sure my children remember the depth of my Hero's love for me regarding chocolate covered cherries.<br />
When I was expecting my first child, I was a transplanted Okie. In Oklahoma, I had grown up getting the candy at any store. It was the most wonderful candy bar imaginable. It was called "Cherry Humps". I loved the taste, texture, and mmmm the cherry in the middle.<br />
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I would let it slowly dissolve in my mouth and slide down the esophagus. Yeah... I really loved that candy bar. Here I was expecting, and most desirous of having a Cherry Hump candy bar.<br />
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I was told it was too hot in Texas, so they only carried it in the winter. It was June! I was going to die without the candy my heart was set on. The Hero solved the dilemma by driving up to visit my parents. He was so sweet. He stocked up on the candy bar and even took me to get my other favorite a fresh squeezed Cherry Limeade from <a href="http://www.braums.com/">Braum's Ice Cream</a> store. You can imagine how happy the Hero was when I found out that downtown Houston Walgreen's had the candy bar and made fresh squeezed Cherry Limeades.<br />
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It became a tradition that every Christmas, my dad bought a box of chocolate covered cherries for the family. I bought some for my mom last year. I don't eat candy very much any more, but if I find a box of chocolate covered cherries, it will probably find its way into my home. </div>
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This post was fun... Had forgotten I had not posted about this for a Hero story. Brought back some great memories. This candy bar is no longer produced. The last time I went to Oklahoma, I looked for something similar like the cello chocolate covered cherry but all they had was Cherry Mash, which I am not fond of. </div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-71033733959167207732014-07-01T10:01:00.000-07:002014-09-21T23:03:22.747-07:00Patriotism for our Country.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As we move toward Independence day I thought this was an apt quote...<br />
“Patriotism,” said Theodore Roosevelt, “means to stand by the country. It does not mean to stand by the President or any other public official save exactly to the degree in which he himself stands by the country. … “Every man,” said President Roosevelt, “who parrots the cry of ‘stand by the President’ without adding the proviso ‘so far as he serves the Republic’ takes an attitude as essentially unmanly as that of any Stuart royalist who championed the doctrine that the King could do no wrong. No self-respecting and intelligent free man could take such an attitude.” (Theodore Roosevelt, Works, vol. 21, pp. 316, 321.) And yet we should pray for our civic leaders and encourage them in righteousness<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Depicts the first battle of two of my ancestors and<br />
a quote of Lemuel Roberts who wrote his Revolutionary War memoirs</td></tr>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-6847573714631934272014-01-01T15:46:00.000-08:002014-01-01T16:13:05.389-08:00A Christmas Memory and More<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A little fun for you, my grandson and granddaughter chose a gift for their uncle that gave them a giggle. Hope you get a giggle out of it too. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK52FOMalzgrA2TFVDCoubWUWZRw3NBy2CvOb3U3jl-UKeBZ9b0Dw0Fsu6cn-SMzzgsvM9AP9CkYsNrD2_LDOOGs5jMtXw2S3ZdHCoPSqUfOOvKl9ByBsZwEsMct4X1O8ZIxIbni0mdNo/s1600/DSCN2908.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK52FOMalzgrA2TFVDCoubWUWZRw3NBy2CvOb3U3jl-UKeBZ9b0Dw0Fsu6cn-SMzzgsvM9AP9CkYsNrD2_LDOOGs5jMtXw2S3ZdHCoPSqUfOOvKl9ByBsZwEsMct4X1O8ZIxIbni0mdNo/s320/DSCN2908.MOV" width="320" /></a></div>
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Of course after walking through the store with the 2 year old pushing the button ever time it stopped, her teenage brother was ready to squash the toy, sister, and grandma.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUq9eNnVQzoHqI5MeV2oJG4NYRj6kzYl3fDmAZ0vwrqUnzR_AV4FfWYs32hO_sTQOMFB09JRu9gmsllLiab7WKNd7t-d95vQPkRcfJV3TKI22Zc-2GocqyEKZ0F9Y1QNZJGWVCf8AFerY/s1600/Amadeus+18th+birthday+with+lexi+and+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUq9eNnVQzoHqI5MeV2oJG4NYRj6kzYl3fDmAZ0vwrqUnzR_AV4FfWYs32hO_sTQOMFB09JRu9gmsllLiab7WKNd7t-d95vQPkRcfJV3TKI22Zc-2GocqyEKZ0F9Y1QNZJGWVCf8AFerY/s320/Amadeus+18th+birthday+with+lexi+and+mom.jpg" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big brother in Cap. Littler sister in arms</td></tr>
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I hope to finish some important projects from last year. I need to learn when to stop adding and just get the job done. Sigh. <br />
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Saying this very quietly, I am hoping to have spring time at home this year. My daughter keeps talking about me moving into town, but I have to say, I love the country and how there isn't anyone dictating how I should live. I know not so good for the property values, but then who is to say the people who live down the street in a trailer and own their land, isn't as good as the person living in a half a million dollar home in town and still owes most of their mortgage. Okay, I need to stop there. The door to moving is not closed.<br />
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The following are a few pictures from Christmas. Wishing you all a Happy and Blessed New Year! Thanks for coming by.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrky6JxUbLqNbeiVmixkoSr249Q0Q_CC4uSbNIWbrDovwKGztGteLfBQPahD-ODD4birmknxHFnEFtYL9fIxMMgN41H8LpIAbg2U1evy-PAvSNEFtE24I2zRHeCWns109mKhQbq3hwL8/s1600/me+and+Christina+showing+off+new+baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrky6JxUbLqNbeiVmixkoSr249Q0Q_CC4uSbNIWbrDovwKGztGteLfBQPahD-ODD4birmknxHFnEFtYL9fIxMMgN41H8LpIAbg2U1evy-PAvSNEFtE24I2zRHeCWns109mKhQbq3hwL8/s400/me+and+Christina+showing+off+new+baby.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My daughter making me laugh because she had to show off her pregnancy #6</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXESzmm7ftYCE0XCzf4UVtjuuLFhvIAj8_rapzCGN94_U9pvVoMTkoaxZYwYwywAz7-7anLZ6cYowWfNnUGKGwQehtUPUHK1HFBlw9BA_ygbuF1pQikr9ECdljxl3iGI6XcYqduiCYcg/s1600/DSCN2834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXESzmm7ftYCE0XCzf4UVtjuuLFhvIAj8_rapzCGN94_U9pvVoMTkoaxZYwYwywAz7-7anLZ6cYowWfNnUGKGwQehtUPUHK1HFBlw9BA_ygbuF1pQikr9ECdljxl3iGI6XcYqduiCYcg/s320/DSCN2834.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gave my daughter-in-law a sewing machine. She has started to sew for her children. My first gift when I was married was a sewing machine from my parents. Her old sewing machine was a student one, pretty worn. :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt56W7qheeBggO2mnPcecD0pcaUjfTTLJVWwtBALVriWoXTZZtqLowRRU0Y2jchVERJ71kL9a4FkYSiTjviQ38fkjYEggE6sGoTelh_mvRIMaUycD7rvvLNBfgpnA9e-IBEKwxMI8qbA/s1600/DSCN2791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt56W7qheeBggO2mnPcecD0pcaUjfTTLJVWwtBALVriWoXTZZtqLowRRU0Y2jchVERJ71kL9a4FkYSiTjviQ38fkjYEggE6sGoTelh_mvRIMaUycD7rvvLNBfgpnA9e-IBEKwxMI8qbA/s320/DSCN2791.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Son with his three children at a Christmas Ward party was supposed to be like Bethlehem. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieUNP0Gv542rDtvdOeADgYXz8Yxm61Dc9tD9n-oqpDCAhl3J-kcHBjPiHTKsX5IArm2dW-3bxPoHj6Sl3_JCo4Lv9o0pd4BYZ8k9cHg3zU3exGiWT_4Dd7t-8_eUx8Ztqg4JC_bZ9U82U/s1600/Schulmires+buffalo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieUNP0Gv542rDtvdOeADgYXz8Yxm61Dc9tD9n-oqpDCAhl3J-kcHBjPiHTKsX5IArm2dW-3bxPoHj6Sl3_JCo4Lv9o0pd4BYZ8k9cHg3zU3exGiWT_4Dd7t-8_eUx8Ztqg4JC_bZ9U82U/s320/Schulmires+buffalo.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandson's in t-shirts I bought for them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdru-X2N5LgQAn9Ovn5bo17LG92Id3dFya2rYuAISr_oUOqhS9SaHJ5YDXRqms4TW86W4aydlR9BzPlihTqqw_Yswox91N7lZeWWXacvWItKKrBFUku_NDCM6lWgQemv-PB1d6tl8wMa4/s1600/Desi+christmas+present.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdru-X2N5LgQAn9Ovn5bo17LG92Id3dFya2rYuAISr_oUOqhS9SaHJ5YDXRqms4TW86W4aydlR9BzPlihTqqw_Yswox91N7lZeWWXacvWItKKrBFUku_NDCM6lWgQemv-PB1d6tl8wMa4/s400/Desi+christmas+present.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Kewpie Doll granddaughter. She has always reminded me of this doll, so when I found one this year... it became hers. She played with it a long time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ4xgXdPfWNwmARRvoE3kygl3lzs_dD9mUip3HRTetP7zjiMlPQes2fNR0NBhWP1lY7VgFUERb1fjeETg-dhmza-gaAn0yHRaBoIZ_kinX5Pb6PqQf-yN9CpHMX0uZUOYV2QiHWsUO_xg/s1600/Blessing+Dec+29+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ4xgXdPfWNwmARRvoE3kygl3lzs_dD9mUip3HRTetP7zjiMlPQes2fNR0NBhWP1lY7VgFUERb1fjeETg-dhmza-gaAn0yHRaBoIZ_kinX5Pb6PqQf-yN9CpHMX0uZUOYV2QiHWsUO_xg/s320/Blessing+Dec+29+2013.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Granddaughter was blessed the 29th. My son was able to meet them in Utah and participate in the blessing. The Hero is missed, he never missed a blessing or baptism of a grandchild.</td></tr>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-10974719569523602162013-12-16T14:04:00.002-08:002013-12-16T14:04:56.655-08:002013 Christmas Season<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This last week end, I spent with my son, his wife and their 3 new children. It was a special week end, starting out with visiting when I arrived. The mom had to go pick up a daughter from sports, and the dad was giving his last presentation for his classes for the semester. There was the making of gingerbread houses. Always a fun Christmas activity. Of course, afterwards, there were the territorial markings of MY gingerbread house (and candy.) But nothing out of the ordinary.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKsOGq0fQRWXZXNp1fnZPoJHLRXtxZrBpEaH2VB1b4xwPvXtO1Upa3NtkbgkYoPYyE5ZYzPzBuKpbJ9ca6RIRehTiaZGzi-QDLsxoZWyzsOuVQzHWtgXuXVdCj2_I5JbhyphenhyphenuG59HtT-ec/s1600/DSCN2778+group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKsOGq0fQRWXZXNp1fnZPoJHLRXtxZrBpEaH2VB1b4xwPvXtO1Upa3NtkbgkYoPYyE5ZYzPzBuKpbJ9ca6RIRehTiaZGzi-QDLsxoZWyzsOuVQzHWtgXuXVdCj2_I5JbhyphenhyphenuG59HtT-ec/s400/DSCN2778+group.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">starting construction.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31Mrl7Zw1lk0iLbW_IpdPLI0A7ENbQ9k0Pd2kBYsS935FYb1nuPIC61-Om51I97SL78uHxkJopCTM-cJz-cAshFhN6Zcn3S_swUyfeTg3ieBhrg6n71eOribcWcM1qLgpqD_oNO_LDe4/s1600/DSCN2786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31Mrl7Zw1lk0iLbW_IpdPLI0A7ENbQ9k0Pd2kBYsS935FYb1nuPIC61-Om51I97SL78uHxkJopCTM-cJz-cAshFhN6Zcn3S_swUyfeTg3ieBhrg6n71eOribcWcM1qLgpqD_oNO_LDe4/s400/DSCN2786.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nibbles were required to make sure the product was good. :)</td></tr>
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The next day we were up and it was 31 degrees outside. Did the family let that stop them? No, we were out walking on the green belt just huffing and puffing. It was fun.<br />
There was shopping to do later and in the evening we went to the church ward party. The dad had to create a stall for their part in the party, it was a night at Bethlehem event. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNTnCSFib_9xnpp_F3mzksjMSK44It1ab8BTsIbbqXslaWlqMm4e4uk2mpjxMJY5T8UtaKO2AssG3h92akjTrd6LIUmgwC87Ziht8daj98ScYwaxBbKwbvy2Z6g3LHcjXwsWpXgxzXLsA/s1600/Stall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNTnCSFib_9xnpp_F3mzksjMSK44It1ab8BTsIbbqXslaWlqMm4e4uk2mpjxMJY5T8UtaKO2AssG3h92akjTrd6LIUmgwC87Ziht8daj98ScYwaxBbKwbvy2Z6g3LHcjXwsWpXgxzXLsA/s320/Stall.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stall and creator.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7nX-WY7eLP8FtBn0yPQnO6OGmsFf9AiNMJ1ttlBQcPFUrL3MKsIicLVd_HwyuduljSQPdp6C66nwpcvoutk1BhKPe70m6mCoaNi7fOncBnjn99xAHzLeeRWnLtvwnUwVk2w64216ze4/s1600/DSCN2794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7nX-WY7eLP8FtBn0yPQnO6OGmsFf9AiNMJ1ttlBQcPFUrL3MKsIicLVd_HwyuduljSQPdp6C66nwpcvoutk1BhKPe70m6mCoaNi7fOncBnjn99xAHzLeeRWnLtvwnUwVk2w64216ze4/s400/DSCN2794.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stall keeper and wife.</td></tr>
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Of course, Mary and Joseph had to stop by the stalls looking for a place to stay to end up at the stable.<br />
When the baby was born our own little angel was in attendance.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTfWwxmHd8B01DalnP_YNRViNtya8gaS6kn9sdK_8M5AXqNpU5IjhsMEPIFsF8Ni5eChzxK8n2WqU7QNxLa7H0kRT9y46L7VkQws0UQCO_PFsEk5BjMLh2oahmXyq7GAOmkJ9135ueGCI/s1600/angle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTfWwxmHd8B01DalnP_YNRViNtya8gaS6kn9sdK_8M5AXqNpU5IjhsMEPIFsF8Ni5eChzxK8n2WqU7QNxLa7H0kRT9y46L7VkQws0UQCO_PFsEk5BjMLh2oahmXyq7GAOmkJ9135ueGCI/s320/angle.jpg" width="162" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom's creative costuming and a bid smile.</td></tr>
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We contributed a wise man... it was touch and go at first because we were looking for a Sheppard and they changed the roles in the back. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">J </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1y7EE62LJM84L3ihG6fHC6pyU3CCRfnQ1anPLhe7QgP7qDuHnPxru5a_kw-6p731Y52B-FhvDdcCh8BoXP0JT1hGZgJsfTuo3tltyJ7NY2pshyphenhyphenphDj4QnvmdOcZC7LQPBIcnrdXbLsBc/s1600/DSCN2803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1y7EE62LJM84L3ihG6fHC6pyU3CCRfnQ1anPLhe7QgP7qDuHnPxru5a_kw-6p731Y52B-FhvDdcCh8BoXP0JT1hGZgJsfTuo3tltyJ7NY2pshyphenhyphenphDj4QnvmdOcZC7LQPBIcnrdXbLsBc/s320/DSCN2803.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
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The next step was to visit Santa Claus. How special is it that someone would take the time to give young girls and boys so much fun.<br />
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There was fun to be had by all. Afterwards, we went home and they were allowed to open my presents to them.<br />
The next day we went to church and I headed home. Yes, with a tear in my eye. It is so hard to leave your loved ones, but love modern days so we know it is easier to visit than in days of yore.<br />
Chat at you later. --Hummer--<br />
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-66388072680548427472013-11-30T18:27:00.000-08:002013-11-30T18:27:42.819-08:00Grandma Langley's Fry Bread<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As I was looking for a recipe by my grandmother Lenora
Gildon Langley to post on FamilySearch's Family Tree, I realized she did not have specialty recipes like we see
today. Grandma Langley was a pioneer camp
cook in her methods. Everything was
cooked with bacon, and she used stuff from the garden. There weren't steaks or chicken like we have
now in abundance. They would kill their own chicken, dress it and most of the time,
boil it with dumplings or noodles, and carrots.
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My favorite memory of her was my early teen years. She lived in a small house my dad had bought
for her behind us. When I got home from
school, she would pull out her handy wash bowl full of flour and whip up some
of her version of Indian fry bread and serve it up with homemade jelly or
strawberry jam from the store. Sometimes, there was honey. I watched her as she made it, so I continued to
make this for my children as they grew up.
Yummy days. </div>
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I know my oldest aunt Della Langley Whitaker, and grandma had
the same type of wash bowl they kept by the stove ready for anyone who dropped by for a
quick snack. I inherited the bowl from
my grandmother, and still have it. It is pictured on the scrapbook page.</div>
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My grandmother only put flour and water in her fry bread. You
would have to put yourself in her surroundings as she grew up. It was a
tradition. When they traveled in the wagons, and apparently they moved more
than we thought, it was easy to have
flour and water to mix up bread and fry in a pan of grease over the fire. You pour
the water into them middle of the flour well, mix with your fingers, make a patty
and fry in grease (oil). Every time I eat it now I feel I am
experiencing a taste of the past. I have
created a scrapbook page for a visual. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>
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Sorry, I didn't wait for you it was finger lickin’ good. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-11348734550946134362013-11-01T22:43:00.001-07:002013-11-01T22:43:54.598-07:00Let a Child Alone and They Will Create <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I love children’s creativity. </b></span></div>
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWCXkJWeZ9eeJPTJC5u2DmMJjmISwv4VkCuHGlvF51yfvzKFIfgwX76RJdInAocGHvlvI9V9uDFvHRGVjjLTU6cNtrg3qjMqUzvHo-1MvUEAWrrA3Brr1F6nBNC_6fOXykxeHrJYKvbs/s1600/486468_10151705489997454_1230909806_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWCXkJWeZ9eeJPTJC5u2DmMJjmISwv4VkCuHGlvF51yfvzKFIfgwX76RJdInAocGHvlvI9V9uDFvHRGVjjLTU6cNtrg3qjMqUzvHo-1MvUEAWrrA3Brr1F6nBNC_6fOXykxeHrJYKvbs/s320/486468_10151705489997454_1230909806_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">multi-media art by my granddaughter</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">As my 6 children grew up, we would have a room full of toys
and they would always go for the oatmeal box as a drum or my pots and pans. Don’t
know how many spoons were taken outside for shovels, I still find some
occasionally.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">The youngest used a hanger
to jump out of a loft to catch his fall… that didn’t turn out too well. (oh
my)</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">However, there weren't any broken
bones… the daughter twirling knives caused that. Laughing at the memories of
the oldest son galloping across the yard with his stick horse his father and I
had made for him.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">He ended up on the
front page of the local newspaper when he took it to town, and the reporter was
amazed at a child that was happy with a toy that didn't do anything. Oh yeah it
did.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">It spurred imagination.</span></div>
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Now that I have 23 grandchildren, it has been a delight
seeing my grandchildren continuing in the world of imagination and creativity. </div>
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The oldest daughter has 8 children. She has an area of dress up and her boys will
take sticks and anything (and I mean anything) and create boats, bridges, “scientific
experiments”, just to name a few.</div>
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The second daughter has 5 children. The oldest is 19 now and he writes stories
and illustrates them. His little
brothers will take boxes and create anything you want or never dreamed of. The redhead took his sister’s gift bag and
was sitting in the middle of the room with scissors. When asked what he was doing, he replied… “I
am making a TV for when the lights go out.”
Now that takes a moment to process, but on reflection it makes perfect
sense. (giggling at the memory of his
mom’s face) </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzEPQrsNjGRBwUsEwIT0zQVrcnYADLaTh3Dhu0Eyh47IXKbgvB4sJlaS6yQbYYXTq5vmwyPZM6udbtdy7Ab9J6mM3a62BfmGfsXJ9f5GC_tsAQhN-8Yu3xf5lwt3B3DPiZ3yv3vRMbD4/s1600/john+Unicorn+with+wings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzEPQrsNjGRBwUsEwIT0zQVrcnYADLaTh3Dhu0Eyh47IXKbgvB4sJlaS6yQbYYXTq5vmwyPZM6udbtdy7Ab9J6mM3a62BfmGfsXJ9f5GC_tsAQhN-8Yu3xf5lwt3B3DPiZ3yv3vRMbD4/s320/john+Unicorn+with+wings.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An attempt to be a unicorn... that is his wings behind</td></tr>
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The oldest son’s son will find a piece of metal, or a screw
and it becomes a treasure. The girls
will go off into a world of dreams and imagination of dressing up. They had their first pumpkin experience of
creating a Jack O’ Lantern and how cute they were dipping the hands in the raw pumpkin.</div>
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Number 4 child and 3<sup>rd</sup> daughter has 4 little
blonde girls. The oldest goes from
scientific experiments in the bathroom with “whatever” and being a ballet
dancer in film fabric from the sewing room.
The second daughter always has paper and pencil or crayons going drawing,
or following her sister’s lead in dress up.
The third’s mind goes into how to get into the cupboards to find snacks
(and usually succeeds), but she likes playing pretend too. Number 4 is getting ready to learn to crawl.</div>
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The 5<sup>th</sup> child and Number 4 daughter has three
sweet children. The oldest boy likes
pretending in the super hero world or with his sister creating a box into
something. (Boxes are wonderful tools for children) the youngest is learning to
walk and I am certain will be quickly creating on her own… She thinks for
herself. </div>
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My sixth child has not married, but he continues his own
world of creative thought and putting life into motion with his own way of
thinking. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejnyBY9X2HZ_QTmuwxKddMusI6_KdZOrst98Pif708hGrRDsxvLH8QcG_MPoDweuyWUKk9O6bPEh1WTrimwmpEvveSJiavwflM6eI2aezCCP6Qg3a6GHkDiHqQCbL_7bPDfQblzwK8YQ/s1600/sean+and+Jamie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejnyBY9X2HZ_QTmuwxKddMusI6_KdZOrst98Pif708hGrRDsxvLH8QcG_MPoDweuyWUKk9O6bPEh1WTrimwmpEvveSJiavwflM6eI2aezCCP6Qg3a6GHkDiHqQCbL_7bPDfQblzwK8YQ/s320/sean+and+Jamie.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking time for his imaginative nephew who keeps him laughing.</td></tr>
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Of course Halloween activity was what triggered this post,
so here are a few pictures and scrappy pages to show you my creative family. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxj29XkWLHUkaRzFv0s6Bq8X6unZ2HFgIxvR13o2sUpRLIdwq5Iz6hq1MemfYHTnI1vXrhO65ikec-s1uBADKfuBGyN3tJhSRY9bLOKe3weVxVq9b8tatdCp_3jIh8pihyphenhyphenBMRUVigtfB0/s1600/cece+prep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxj29XkWLHUkaRzFv0s6Bq8X6unZ2HFgIxvR13o2sUpRLIdwq5Iz6hq1MemfYHTnI1vXrhO65ikec-s1uBADKfuBGyN3tJhSRY9bLOKe3weVxVq9b8tatdCp_3jIh8pihyphenhyphenBMRUVigtfB0/s400/cece+prep.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">fun things to do.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYWfRTyj5z0vTRkq1QoO5AtBpK4yi8MUPH5o4eJTpiEkQLGvK3wB7SqzCgBOzfM7IeKLDs7QD94dpXBbjJv0v2NdKRy_gc8BO2cqsgUCrSC5Vzk3PBilRdhntJBg59bhKXzvmFaQpa_I/s1600/Edward+and+alex+scrap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYWfRTyj5z0vTRkq1QoO5AtBpK4yi8MUPH5o4eJTpiEkQLGvK3wB7SqzCgBOzfM7IeKLDs7QD94dpXBbjJv0v2NdKRy_gc8BO2cqsgUCrSC5Vzk3PBilRdhntJBg59bhKXzvmFaQpa_I/s400/Edward+and+alex+scrap.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">memories made<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOL2iRLwxc4NupnuSvMofPMHpab70ZZe_5NIt3naJWA-9VonqEfHhYO-DZPnX7A0fZXi2vJCbQl3N1J9UOiBCPtEL4H3CfjFiTTx7hlZgMNOzkXRLyvWhMsjW7FnEKhidcbn8-HJ9Oco/s1600/edward+and+john2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOL2iRLwxc4NupnuSvMofPMHpab70ZZe_5NIt3naJWA-9VonqEfHhYO-DZPnX7A0fZXi2vJCbQl3N1J9UOiBCPtEL4H3CfjFiTTx7hlZgMNOzkXRLyvWhMsjW7FnEKhidcbn8-HJ9Oco/s400/edward+and+john2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cowboys are always fun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixoyeCKKf9Uv_naJfGi320v0f3ZKXEAmzfNDgLN_ulRFrirde6_qJr7Zv4Fhuy3t_qZ8NEIQvUVtwynUO99_0nqsrEZfGrnGq5fEhPFJxAGU9dlbJKCJsJ_SNa1zlIOUPawcJCQ_BEzCA/s1600/emily+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixoyeCKKf9Uv_naJfGi320v0f3ZKXEAmzfNDgLN_ulRFrirde6_qJr7Zv4Fhuy3t_qZ8NEIQvUVtwynUO99_0nqsrEZfGrnGq5fEhPFJxAGU9dlbJKCJsJ_SNa1zlIOUPawcJCQ_BEzCA/s400/emily+girls.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I arrived home, my granddaughters decided to write me a letter. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxslkPN5Q951I3AFiF4xtgPduNSDsgb445aAfTN992olIWf2wbbqfNvYuJFOHeXgY4jZK8q0GEKyz6O2Ng5Obr-ios5IUV-QmiMRjCCTqPsNO74pFY2wjbpWgCLLAcsRgY8FhK8MFrjBs/s1600/Girls+dress+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxslkPN5Q951I3AFiF4xtgPduNSDsgb445aAfTN992olIWf2wbbqfNvYuJFOHeXgY4jZK8q0GEKyz6O2Ng5Obr-ios5IUV-QmiMRjCCTqPsNO74pFY2wjbpWgCLLAcsRgY8FhK8MFrjBs/s400/Girls+dress+up.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All my girls love to dress up and act some have been in plays.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6C7vyeAQXP7yddZ1dy-glcfR7MxeP7VudKDGFazenl5SxVELXIzByNNodw1upSNEKs-JVeXa3FjtllEqg-afGvJhzcUiEba24a1VlmqZebvpRS4eVs5Zv4yfyJI3Xabs9a7IKVxXsRM/s1600/pumpkin+carvnd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6C7vyeAQXP7yddZ1dy-glcfR7MxeP7VudKDGFazenl5SxVELXIzByNNodw1upSNEKs-JVeXa3FjtllEqg-afGvJhzcUiEba24a1VlmqZebvpRS4eVs5Zv4yfyJI3Xabs9a7IKVxXsRM/s400/pumpkin+carvnd.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carving Pumpkins... Old pros and newbies.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghOWcRtPnhLuN3hcxmnnrJxFLuE14gBhyEjTffPDkeII-hqW3rNykRiiwgaWgBJMUbBhS18emNUXMhZRU-WIJ3BEeC707Mx37BAOgG8Npyl8cMvJjsYZN6-Rm6MeO9MXlAZzJ6lg4YVZE/s1600/halloween+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghOWcRtPnhLuN3hcxmnnrJxFLuE14gBhyEjTffPDkeII-hqW3rNykRiiwgaWgBJMUbBhS18emNUXMhZRU-WIJ3BEeC707Mx37BAOgG8Npyl8cMvJjsYZN6-Rm6MeO9MXlAZzJ6lg4YVZE/s400/halloween+2013.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only 4 families represented. California didn't get pictures to me. The two in the masks made the ones they are wearing.</td></tr>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-39707226334202508142013-09-22T23:30:00.004-07:002013-09-23T08:40:22.271-07:00A New Way to Exercise. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday I went shopping with my daughter and son-in-law when they were looking for appliances for their new house. While they were doing the comparisons, I took the two older granddaughter out to the garden center to look at the plants. (You knew this would happen.) We looked at the different plants. I told them the names of each as well as why they would or would not do for the new house. A front apparently rolled in because the wind picked up and the temperature dropped about 10 degrees.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQsFocxmxjlQX2YvRKKxLAp-kB5GIbz6Ehj8okyPzH9DVfNF1Q7c6ACIwVNP0mFOKAaYgm8bGWomR6e6rPQBIX8Xt43qoxF9saOm7DMiH_vbUlsFPuWVOy6GNjnqM6StiZhqBPH7RGK4/s1600/storm+clouds+no+rain+92013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQsFocxmxjlQX2YvRKKxLAp-kB5GIbz6Ehj8okyPzH9DVfNF1Q7c6ACIwVNP0mFOKAaYgm8bGWomR6e6rPQBIX8Xt43qoxF9saOm7DMiH_vbUlsFPuWVOy6GNjnqM6StiZhqBPH7RGK4/s320/storm+clouds+no+rain+92013.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
We chose to go back inside and looked at yard art and the seeds. We found Butterfly Weed seed <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmys-kH0-LV3FMgcz7ECmeBnHTzl3kgGu2rMCvj5Omm-4WETQY_s_3I2lEKvjHbc7bCFZUm7lsa112ceZ7OsVbJbLzJh3g6A96O0QqykwxQTXixV_G0l7u0d2-t3mMkNecmISIukwE5yc/s1600/Butterfly+on+Butterfly+Weed..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmys-kH0-LV3FMgcz7ECmeBnHTzl3kgGu2rMCvj5Omm-4WETQY_s_3I2lEKvjHbc7bCFZUm7lsa112ceZ7OsVbJbLzJh3g6A96O0QqykwxQTXixV_G0l7u0d2-t3mMkNecmISIukwE5yc/s200/Butterfly+on+Butterfly+Weed..jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why we wanted the Butterfly Weed.</td></tr>
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... only one package left so we picked it up, some Johnny Jump ups, and Nasturtiums they could plant in the hanging back which could be brought in on cold days. Of course I found one or two other things I could buy to spoil them with.<br />
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The transaction for arranging delivery was taking a while so the parents suggested we check our stuff out and wait for them on the benches in front. We picked up some water, and chocolate coconut water ( this was a hit with the girls) to keep cool with... (didn't I just say a front came in?) We checked out, I declined a sack, thinking no need, then we headed to the benches... Oops, the benches had been removed for winter time. Our second choice was to go sit on the back of the pickup tailgate and drink our drinks. That was a hit with the girls. I put them in the back of the pick up and started unloading the basket. <br />
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We forgot, no keys. As I put the plant in the back, the wind picked up again, and before you could say Jimmy Cricket off went a package of seeds that were sitting next to my purse. I went in pursuit. Smack, I heard another package hit the ground behind me as the wind came again swooping the first further away. I jogged to it and started back for the second. By this time the oldest girl saw what was happening as two more seed packets took flight. She stood on the back of the tailgate and giggled as she pointed out where each packet had gone while I jogged from one side of the parking lot to the other in pursuit. I finally retrieved them all, and stuffed them in my purse. By this time the little girls decided it was cold and we snuggled and drank our coconut water until mom and dad came out to let us in. <br />
When I got home, I sat down in the chair and put up my feet. Fun? Yes, but maybe planned exercise might be better... Where is my Curves membership card? </div>
FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-46193439137943169282013-09-18T21:10:00.000-07:002013-09-18T21:10:03.545-07:00Humiliated by a Gopher. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Since I began blogging in 2009, I have had photo envy of Carol at <a href="http://reflectionsfloraandfauna.blogspot.com/">Reflection's Flora and Fauna </a>. I love the way she catches wild life. I have been trying so hard to catch an animal, bird, insect, or reptile in a nice pose or at least a realistic pose instead of a blur. <br />
This last weekend I had my chance, or so I thought at a picnic the family went on at a local park in California. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRCThLmDVcEtQrkofohVhyphenhyphenegl6TZa1gtE08tYfKzksJw1A0zADjoXlCXjqC_6u-I03MS_Lgv6aWwbG5z20zNjtSPGZT8s01jKj9YhfN_8CuoFGHDNSZdNCvPsEAfbNa2mssvpOWuXTV8/s1600/DSCN2259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRCThLmDVcEtQrkofohVhyphenhyphenegl6TZa1gtE08tYfKzksJw1A0zADjoXlCXjqC_6u-I03MS_Lgv6aWwbG5z20zNjtSPGZT8s01jKj9YhfN_8CuoFGHDNSZdNCvPsEAfbNa2mssvpOWuXTV8/s320/DSCN2259.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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My son in law, called my granddaughters attention to the fact there was a gopher digging next to us. In a few minutes it was evident he was coming up. <br />
I grabbed my camera and rushed to stand near enough ( I am terrible with zoom coming out clear) so I could catch a shot of him as he emerged. There I stood, camera aim... so I thought, first picture was of grass, second was of freshly dug grass.<br />
Then! I caught a shot as he emerged. I clicked 3 more times but only got him once as he paused to look at me considering what I was doing. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXR1PVml28VzsYz-2F6Jw0zWJ3da2VlO8qiUNd1cAoKS99v4rdjpFjwt-GxQCHPTL4q3iaJbkfaIZzaUJRG-igqDHanCu8w3RqksoXi6LzfosLXEDjAlk4YlBEK96upBdwP_2DFZJ2Vgs/s1600/gopher+eyes+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXR1PVml28VzsYz-2F6Jw0zWJ3da2VlO8qiUNd1cAoKS99v4rdjpFjwt-GxQCHPTL4q3iaJbkfaIZzaUJRG-igqDHanCu8w3RqksoXi6LzfosLXEDjAlk4YlBEK96upBdwP_2DFZJ2Vgs/s400/gopher+eyes+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The quick as a flash he flipped and I was left with a picture of his backside. I stood for 10 min with my camera ready to catch him coming back up... I hoped...but he never came back and I looked quite foolish with my camera aimed at a pile of dirt. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuz4mejfGvJsyLN-Ws1_MNBa-M70f2uN136tfvTbkAO9coCQXZQsAipECB1auu5_8svd8TauRW3oFr_wVgQurD_SPsczWcDaRXLSlGPi2ETCXYk4fWIOGROP6FY0mgtyav6cJ2URj8JDE/s1600/gopher+bottom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuz4mejfGvJsyLN-Ws1_MNBa-M70f2uN136tfvTbkAO9coCQXZQsAipECB1auu5_8svd8TauRW3oFr_wVgQurD_SPsczWcDaRXLSlGPi2ETCXYk4fWIOGROP6FY0mgtyav6cJ2URj8JDE/s320/gopher+bottom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Not giving up though. I love taking the time to capture pictures of nature and beauty around me. Hope you are having fun too. </div>
FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-60101547491924142212013-08-16T23:18:00.000-07:002013-08-16T23:18:36.973-07:00Gardening and Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This morning I went out to start planting the shrubs I had chosen to replace the rosebushes my daughter had lost to gophers. Just the thought of having your landscape eaten by gophers was a new one to me. <br />
As I started to dig the first hole, I realized I had the wrong tools. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPkAIslbxhUF-HIMgAL_qk7gHq2i7dkwnDVKfAWm3P15QG3aO2yhCy7tiEIC65e4eTIUcaG-khIo9u5JIwmSC6QzPnBzUVT3r9VCG9c01Z3_trPjKPOeIXNyirTelZh7_DzWFJTonv5g/s1600/dirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPkAIslbxhUF-HIMgAL_qk7gHq2i7dkwnDVKfAWm3P15QG3aO2yhCy7tiEIC65e4eTIUcaG-khIo9u5JIwmSC6QzPnBzUVT3r9VCG9c01Z3_trPjKPOeIXNyirTelZh7_DzWFJTonv5g/s200/dirt.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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A hand spade and small shovel would not work. I had not dug in dirt this hard since I had tried to get some dirt for an experiment in the frozen tundra of Idaho in March of 2004. Oh my! It was time to get out the pick ax and the heavy duty shovel. As I chopped and dug through the hard clay and rocks, my thoughts went to the pioneers that had gone to climates like this and had to create fields to grow crops. Well, just the few holes I dug were tiring, can't even begin to put myself in their shoes. Hats off to the pioneers!<br />
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My young padawan was disappointed when I informed her that the tools would put her in danger and she would have to wait until we were ready to put the plant in the ground... Oh wait! That wasn't true... What do you have to do when planting in Gopher Land? Why yes, you have to build root protectors called gopher baskets. That means, if you are cheap like me, wire cutters and chicken wire. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaIMsyKwRJwVQU5BNOtSCT7vztRXLHKndfqg2NV_Csrxhv9sIHlstb4HIFroQ8bEIIDrCg7H82AzIY9BPOCsLSCPBvrz2ftE-YtYPXvFX5tf-68wxV7k2-Q5UpsFtGpWknkrXQFaaaDk/s1600/best+making+gopher+basket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaIMsyKwRJwVQU5BNOtSCT7vztRXLHKndfqg2NV_Csrxhv9sIHlstb4HIFroQ8bEIIDrCg7H82AzIY9BPOCsLSCPBvrz2ftE-YtYPXvFX5tf-68wxV7k2-Q5UpsFtGpWknkrXQFaaaDk/s200/best+making+gopher+basket.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Yes, I was sitting on the job. With the slant of the yard, it was easier to keep my balance.)</td></tr>
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Nope, young padawan, you will have to trim the dead blooms off the Butterfly Bush to make it pretty, which she did a nice job of.<br />
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There was another glitch, since we were buying so late in the season, the plants had become root bound at the small nursery. We found the sized we wanted so it was our choice. I just added some special TLC and Super Thrive. </div>
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Things went fairly well today, I finished the bed next to the driveway. The youngster that just had her tonsils out came out to inspect... Hey! I'm not done! It's not that bad. (smile)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of the older sister who needed something to do. ;) </td></tr>
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Tomorrow, we tackle the front beds. Think I will keep my hat on and wear a cooling neck band. Since it is smaller plants, the young padawan should be able to dig a hole or two before she gets too tired. </div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2916257732263758647.post-57000178781074966812013-05-08T22:28:00.000-07:002013-05-08T22:28:11.795-07:00Florist Fun For Mother's Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was helping a special friend today, who does not have a car right now. We were in town at the bank, when I received a call asking about my address. I was hesitant to answer the woman speaking because no one was at home. After a few moments of conversation, the woman explains she is trying to deliver flowers for me. She is at the address that I gave her. Well, I couldn't get home, and had left our sweet dog outside, who was barking at her.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJS_RcppM5frU4vVqwhkvOTGtmh7CXTDuI4NG-3jJG2PgVmOHregT-nWeJ3i5A-D0Qq8ivDOrvSeDvLMU2LnNWbbweNoM5N-5faMl5AtWthxm33xeZ41uZQTT3mpXW1sR7T8pmBmxux7Q/s1600/Kai+pensive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJS_RcppM5frU4vVqwhkvOTGtmh7CXTDuI4NG-3jJG2PgVmOHregT-nWeJ3i5A-D0Qq8ivDOrvSeDvLMU2LnNWbbweNoM5N-5faMl5AtWthxm33xeZ41uZQTT3mpXW1sR7T8pmBmxux7Q/s320/Kai+pensive.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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She was delivering from a Florist that was 25 miles away, so neither of us wanted to repeat the trip. I finally said, put the phone out and I will talk with our dog and get him to sit down. She said, "I'll try". She puts the phone out the door and says "Here he is..." my cue to talk with him. I told him it was okay and told him to sit down, in a stern tone. She walked up to the door and sat the flowers down on the porch. I asked if she needed to keep the phone on while walking out to the car. She said, "no, he sat down next to the porch and just watched, still looking at the phone." My friend and I laughed visualizing my dog looking quizzically at the phone trying to figure out where I was. Shades of technology.<br />
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Back to the flowers. </div>
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When I arrived home, there was the sweetest arrangement of Daisies and Roses with a pink gingham ribbon around them...</div>
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Beautiful and simple. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you my son and daughter in law! I love them!</span></div>
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FranEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00727917499152200255noreply@blogger.com4