tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63728973601428697412024-03-05T10:57:34.220-08:00MarjarazziLife, Love, and the Pursuit of Pop Culture.Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-30862053329543991322013-11-07T17:04:00.000-08:002013-11-07T17:10:52.354-08:00So Fall, So Good<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/AVvXsEi7QXHG7p7c2ueLOwGUBa89P0lY_mP15mDukPfN0JzfCE0f1FlIgyUASq-iUDwOJVCGJhz0Z7dxhbdW0heVcOQyVk5MA8MrLAk7oYnfjuw5I5XwVqZFkyPWHVRUr-CP04et8Mo_nupwjCbU/s1600/boysoffall.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7QXHG7p7c2ueLOwGUBa89P0lY_mP15mDukPfN0JzfCE0f1FlIgyUASq-iUDwOJVCGJhz0Z7dxhbdW0heVcOQyVk5MA8MrLAk7oYnfjuw5I5XwVqZFkyPWHVRUr-CP04et8Mo_nupwjCbU/s400/boysoffall.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Boys of Fall aka Backyard Boys<br />
#maybethatwillbetheirboybandname<br />
#dontworrytheywillplayinstrumentstoo<br />
#theirfirstsinglewillbequitplayingamesinmypark<br />
#amamacandream</td></tr>
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It's no secret that I love this time of year (<a href="http://marjarazzi.blogspot.com/2011/09/that-old-fall-feeling.html" target="_blank">as previously mentioned here</a>)! The weather (in California) is still lovely and warm during the day. The boys have a blast being able to play in the backyard any time (translation: Kellan tries desperately to crawl after his big brother who is busy catapulting himself from one end of the yard to the other), without the intense Summer heat interfering. The evenings are cool and crisp and at dusk you start to smell the first fires of the season cropping up around the neighborhood. What is it about the familiar smell of a wood burning fireplace in the cold of night that is so comforting? And the cooler nighttime temps can only lead to cozier sleep thanks to an extra quilt or two on the bed.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I LOVE me some long days of Summer. And Winter brings the best holiday of them all, as far as I'm concerned. But there is just something about Fall. It truly is the best of both worlds (sorry, Spring, you haven't been around much in the last few years so I am nixing you from this blost).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCz8KCWcydgC6muAFF30ne1eWl4S6j5M-_ph4_HXWMWfn7Rt8IeLSw_g3GYEjfeHZZJLCDRRcqWbOX9MtOy5GBcp6TrJHCfhyphenhyphen__kkA8bC8yeYVenCoRNU4y84C4CREqNinv8RJES91Iwf/s1600/fallisintheair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCz8KCWcydgC6muAFF30ne1eWl4S6j5M-_ph4_HXWMWfn7Rt8IeLSw_g3GYEjfeHZZJLCDRRcqWbOX9MtOy5GBcp6TrJHCfhyphenhyphen__kkA8bC8yeYVenCoRNU4y84C4CREqNinv8RJES91Iwf/s400/fallisintheair.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fall is in the air. WAY up in the air.</td></tr>
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AND, the scenery is amazing. Although Mr. Razzi (my husband and resident leaf raker) would beg to differ (we have three ginormous trees in front of our house that shed from the end of August until the end of time), all the leaves, that come in a plethora of Autumn hues, are just fantastic.<br />
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<b>Enough about my favorite season. What is yours and why? I'd love to read what you share in the comment section below! </b>Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-74957777894645470012013-10-30T11:10:00.001-07:002013-10-30T11:10:33.926-07:00Not So Creepy Crawler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Things that go bump in the night? No, I am more scared of the thing that goes "waa" in the night. And now . . . IT CRAWLS.</div>
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When he started rolling over (and just kept rolling and rolling), they told me to be afraid.</div>
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When he started rocking back and forth on all fours, they told me to be very afraid. </div>
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I knew the day was going to come before I was ready, but I thought to myself, "I'm sure I have another month before he REALLY gets it. He's only 6 months old." Boy, was I wrong. My second baby has zero interest in being a baby. He has a big brother to keep up with, after all.</div>
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Last week, Kellan started crawling and hasn't looked back (except that one time when I am pretty sure he turned around, mouthed the words "eat my dust", laughed in a rather maniacal fashion, and kept going). And we're off!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wfYUOBWpaPNkck_p6neoRv1d6Hqj8AMLLPPjXPip5XSMQQb9TJ1paHQiiLRAVBVo8o2LQEMm2ROIequiggolJzO5McHw9NQtT7gbhUiHKktcRSf_n5XdqgXVjhOm3t0V5dZSvI_ObMHb/s1600/IMG_3302-MOTION.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wfYUOBWpaPNkck_p6neoRv1d6Hqj8AMLLPPjXPip5XSMQQb9TJ1paHQiiLRAVBVo8o2LQEMm2ROIequiggolJzO5McHw9NQtT7gbhUiHKktcRSf_n5XdqgXVjhOm3t0V5dZSvI_ObMHb/s320/IMG_3302-MOTION.gif" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Security footage that I obtained of the suspect at large.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjSKeRFnoa2QEJa3xJaJW0UzMOdvRji8cOgGBc_0-3oWLw85GGwt5Wmme2laElLB7r5qZl9K8LEktmC-FbzZAYWvDCfMlb_MtrzeVrbvrSWE1g4S50Ey74ryUaQjodzSgIMydXGLzsz1I/s1600/IMG_3317-MOTION.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjSKeRFnoa2QEJa3xJaJW0UzMOdvRji8cOgGBc_0-3oWLw85GGwt5Wmme2laElLB7r5qZl9K8LEktmC-FbzZAYWvDCfMlb_MtrzeVrbvrSWE1g4S50Ey74ryUaQjodzSgIMydXGLzsz1I/s320/IMG_3317-MOTION.gif" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IF YOU SEE THIS BABY, please stop him from crawling under the table. <br />He hits his head EVERY time.</td></tr>
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<br />Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-89568042140049851282013-10-15T15:38:00.000-07:002013-10-15T15:42:03.372-07:00Lyrics I Love'Tis finally time to enjoy one of <a href="http://marjarazzi.blogspot.com/2011/10/halloweenies-movie-guide.html" target="_blank">my favorite seasonal cinematic treats</a>!<br />
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"This is Halloween, this is Halloween<br />
Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Halloween!<br />
Halloween! Halloween!<br />
Tender lumplings everywhere<br />
Life's no fun without a good scare<br />
That's our job, but we're not mean<br />
In our town of Halloween"<br />
<br />
-Tim Burton's <i>The Nightmare Before Christmas</i><br />
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If reading the lyrics aren't enough, click below to feast your eyes on the movie's introduction to Halloween Town!</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/vHLgob-PpIk" width="420"></iframe>
Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-92021787913999466812013-08-22T12:22:00.000-07:002013-08-22T12:22:29.331-07:00You Know You're A Mom When . . . #2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBz1GEgBtMt2WKwkniQj0I1-_MDuqEiUGlnXDsjus7BuCtTdZFLjanJElLQMHL6OfvYiwETpv44_-yQbvbo22cFlEpejLMAGZiR6NBa1TKd2Zq-96rodASjfGQo83iAfMMXltU9mbB-Su/s1600/Winnie-The-Pooh.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBz1GEgBtMt2WKwkniQj0I1-_MDuqEiUGlnXDsjus7BuCtTdZFLjanJElLQMHL6OfvYiwETpv44_-yQbvbo22cFlEpejLMAGZiR6NBa1TKd2Zq-96rodASjfGQo83iAfMMXltU9mbB-Su/s320/Winnie-The-Pooh.png" width="172" /></a></div>
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The biggest S.O.B. you have been dealing with lately is that Silly Old Bear aka Winnie the Pooh. </div>
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And I have no complaints about that! He is so wise, and so quotable.</div>
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"It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like 'What about lunch?'" </div>
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-Winnie the Pooh/A.A. Milne</div>
Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-5084598189595919412013-08-07T14:11:00.000-07:002013-08-07T14:11:17.435-07:00Willoughby Wallaby WHAT?!<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/AVvXsEg1pqDyVT1GJNnnOLJgqSL0MAJ_BaAVot7o_o_Lx539Q6wbv-xUGsl9LWYVf6fpr48QE1_uPzJ7PEddR2B_-_3Aq8Kg26UNGwYSZTmn8DBQWFOVH7Av0WN0_L_ypXnmaEh4jv61bQV-sET6/s1600/IMG_1307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1pqDyVT1GJNnnOLJgqSL0MAJ_BaAVot7o_o_Lx539Q6wbv-xUGsl9LWYVf6fpr48QE1_uPzJ7PEddR2B_-_3Aq8Kg26UNGwYSZTmn8DBQWFOVH7Av0WN0_L_ypXnmaEh4jv61bQV-sET6/s320/IMG_1307.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poppin bottles of every kind. Photo credit: My husband.</td></tr>
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Cade is heavy into Raffi these days. So heavy that when the CD ends, he immediately requests that we "Start it over please, Mama!" I am a Raffi fan gal myself (from so far back I can still hear that familiar crackling sound of the vinyl mixed with the strangely mesmerizing timbre of Raffi's voice, and trusty guitar), so who am I to deny my first born the gift of "Singable Songs for the Very Young"? Plus, anything to give "Call Me Maybe" or "I'm Glad You Came" a much needed break from their constant rotation (C did NOT get the memo that this is the summer of 2013, NOT 2012). But, as always, I digress.</div>
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Yesterday, while playing a serious game of Lightening McQueen meets Thomas (I've decided it's his live action equivalent to <i>The Jetsons Meet the Flintstones</i>), he started singing the Raffi classic "Willoughby Wallaby". He rhymed Wenny with Jenny and remembered Wennis went with Dennis, and then came time to rhyme Woosen with Susan. But my 3-year-old son could not remember Woosen. So, he went to his ever expanding arsenal of vocabulary, pulled out the one word that would make most people shudder with disapproval (Raffi included) and belted out: "Willoughby Wallaby BOOZIN', an elephant sat on Susan."<br />
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While I am confident that the word has been used in my home, and that my echo (aka Cade) has heard it quite recently, it could have also just been C being C and "making up" a word that rhymed and worked for him in the moment. Either way, I laughed. I laughed because it could always be worse. It could have been "Willoughby Wallaby Trucker" that he had to find a rhyme for. And I REALLY don't want to pull him out of preschool before it even starts. Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-13208277239552264412013-08-02T22:35:00.001-07:002013-08-02T22:35:55.088-07:00Are You There Blog?It's me, Marja.<br />
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It has been exactly one year since my last post. Unacceptable but unavoidable because life happened. Literally.<br />
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Within the month of August 2012, my hubby and I were thrilled to find out I was expecting baby #2. And then, just like that (*snaps fingers*), my body betrayed me and the Hyperemesis gravidarum reared its ugly head (much more severely this time around) and set up shop for the long haul. I was sick my entire pregnancy (but thank you for some relief, Zofran!). On the days the meds worked, I thought about pulling out the laptop and getting back in touch with my creative side. Alas, they never worked THAT well. I was far too nauseous, <a href="http://marjarazzi.blogspot.com/p/glossary-of-marjisms.html" target="_blank">barfy</a>, and all around exhausted to do anything beyond taking care of Cade (thank you, Disney movies!). And that even became difficult on many occasions (thank you for making the trip so often to help, Mom!). That is the super short version. Ahhh, the miracle of life.<br />
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Of course it was ALL worth it. My wonderful husband picked up the slack everywhere (thank you, David!) and our adorable, amazing, wide-eyed, and super smiley second son, Kellan, joined the party in April. He arrived a little over one month early but I delivered him via successful VBAC (*high fives everyone in the vicinity*). Although he has had some unfortunate ailments to overcome since then, he is growing bigger and stronger every day and we are SO in love with the missing piece to our family. Cade is a sweet and loving big brother and so smart and funny and . . . (I'll save it for future blosts). We are blessed.<br />
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So it's not like I have been neglecting my writing on purpose. It just became less and less of a priority as Cade got older and we got busier and then it wasn't a priority at all . . . until now. Because I miss it. I need it. Writing challenges me, gets my synapses firing, AND is something I love. All in very different ways than motherhood challenges me and uses my brain. Plus, it's an amazing way to vent, share, keep in touch, and work through things. We all have "our thing". This is mine.<br />
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I love being a stay at home mom but having a second baby seriously steps things up a notch. It is HARD and it is WORK and I want to be doing it but I don't want to lose myself IN it. This week I reached a point where I realized that if I don't create some me time away from my kids, the line between "want to" and "have to" will become blurred and I don't ever want that to happen. So I NEED to be writing. Whether it's once a day, once a week, or once a month. Whether or not anyone besides my husband (I love you!) grandmother (thank you, Nomi!) or dear friends (#imbackbabies #blessyourhearts) ever reads it. <br />
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Mama needs this. But, more importantly, Marja needs this. It feels good to be back.Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-85925724807331388142012-08-02T19:38:00.000-07:002012-08-02T19:38:51.260-07:00Hair Affair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DMrDlxy6GeY/UBs4YH25KbI/AAAAAAAABIE/qMHpfpqXQx0/s1600/mufasahair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DMrDlxy6GeY/UBs4YH25KbI/AAAAAAAABIE/qMHpfpqXQx0/s1600/mufasahair.jpg" /></a></div>
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I have big hair.<br />
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Those of you who know me personally can vouch for this fact; those that don't will just have to take my word for it. If it helps to convince you, one of my nicknames in high school was Mufasa. I literally woke up one day during my 12th year on planet Earth and had curly hair ("Thanks, puberty!" *sarcastic thumbs up*). For years I waged a losing battle against Mother Nature, doing everything I could to tame the mane, and keep the curl out. That included an ill advised chemical straightening, long before the art had been perfected, that left me with Barbie hairs (translation: super short strands all along my part, where the rest of it was singed off).<br />
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Flat irons didn't exist until I was a sophomore in college so I actually used a curling iron to straighten my hair. Long story short (and yes, most of my stories are long so you're lucking out here), I have never been able to trust just ANY hair stylist to care for my coiffure. For the last 9 years or so I have embraced my naturally curly hair and that's how it stays most of the time. However, whenever I can scrounge up the time, I LOVE to blow it out and iron it until it's stick straight (cut to me making crazy googly eyes).<br />
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My point?<br />
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When it's time to get my "do" done, I need someone who can give me a versatile cut, that can be worn curly AND straight. And after years of spending serious cash to find the right person for that daunting task, I took a chance on an affordable neighborhood hair salon (where my husband, who is, shall we say, rather persnickety about how his tresses are trimmed, goes), and hit the jackpot! The lovely young stylist who cuts my hair now does a SUPER job and handles my hair even better than the last one who cut it and charged me four, yes, four times as much. It just goes to show me, and you, that there are ways to look and feel good without spending a lot of dough!<br />
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Your turn! Please share your bargain secrets in the comment section below. Where are you are able to "cut" corners (I know, SO punny!) and save a few bucks in the beauty department . . . and beyond?Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-15553249298421984292012-06-05T22:15:00.002-07:002012-06-05T22:21:48.569-07:00You Know You're A Mom When . . .You find yourself repurposing song lyrics from sweet 90s jams to convince your son to eat dinner.<br />
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For example, Blackstreet's "No Diggity" recently morphed into MamaMarja's "Hot Diggity (Dog)" and is pretty much me repeating my homemade chorus over and over; which goes a little something like this:<br />
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"I like the way you cook it (hot diggity)<br />
I got to eat it up<br />
I like the way you cook it (hot diggity)<br />
I got to eat it up"<br />
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My remix does no justice to the original, included below for your listening enjoyment, but Cade always seems to appreciate dinner and a free show.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3KL9mRus19o" width="420"></iframe></div>Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-87516310433258284642012-05-31T19:38:00.000-07:002012-05-31T19:39:59.646-07:00Lyrics I Love<div>
I hope Cade always takes the time to chase bubbles. Watching him play brought this song to mind . . .</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0DmMAiJ4tahVDhzXYhT6NCWNdYuDbTgVEo31vlJUgSjE8rHzwTduNwrwnKQKvXmoUvdAWMQC3CNssLP0cnr8rv1hZ5e13dLTI47EHMfwTvClgnNEakrIN0xdVU3BIcETtntWRPbgKHhO/s1600/cadenbubbles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0DmMAiJ4tahVDhzXYhT6NCWNdYuDbTgVEo31vlJUgSjE8rHzwTduNwrwnKQKvXmoUvdAWMQC3CNssLP0cnr8rv1hZ5e13dLTI47EHMfwTvClgnNEakrIN0xdVU3BIcETtntWRPbgKHhO/s320/cadenbubbles.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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"May your wishes all come true<br />
May you always do for others<br />
And let others do for you<br />
May you build a ladder to the stars<br />
And climb on every rung<br />
May you stay forever young"<br />
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~Bob Dylan "Forever Young"Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-59300199357664531752012-05-01T16:13:00.001-07:002012-05-01T19:32:19.032-07:00The Young and the Soapless Too<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rljxd2y167g/T6BuBxN9EQI/AAAAAAAAAVk/8UCejC6DdUE/s1600/dramaheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rljxd2y167g/T6BuBxN9EQI/AAAAAAAAAVk/8UCejC6DdUE/s1600/dramaheart.jpg" /></a></div>
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My <a href="http://marjarazzi.blogspot.com/2011/08/young-and-soapless.html" target="_blank">first round of Soap Culture observations</a> was SO much fun to document (<a href="http://marjarazzi.blogspot.com/2011/08/young-and-soapless.html" target="_blank">click here</a> to get caught up) that I couldn't help giving it another go. Thank you to those readers who inspired a few of these additional and oh-so-sudsy notes.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>If you piss someone off enough, you will be buried alive and left for dead (typically in an encasement fully equipped with a video camera so the burier can relish live footage of the buried's struggle at all times). But, don't fret, because the odds are good that you'll escape somehow. Plus, you'll have your cell phone on you, which will miraculously have just enough cellage ("bars") for you to make a rescue call.</li>
<li>Why stop at a love triangle when you can experience the heartbreak and agony that comes along with a love rectangle or even a love pentagon (ooooohhh, ahhhhh)?</li>
<li>Well-tanned (and toned) men and women are always answering doors in nothing but a towel (still damp from the shower, of course). Seriously, who does that?</li>
<li>Clothes tear off easily during fights AND passionate moments.</li>
<li>Every time you open a door, the person you were just alluding to, talking or thinking about, will appear on the other side.</li>
<li>You will never actually see a swimming pool in Soap World. When someone jumps in a pool you see the water that splashes up (as if everyone does a cannon ball when entering a body of water) or you see the "edge" of a pool and what's supposed to be the reflection of the water on nearby buildings, houses, etc.</li>
<li>In Soap World, it is rare to marry for love. Husbands are easily ensnared, entrapped, and voila! -- engaged.</li>
<li>With each marriage, the diamonds get larger and more sparkley. Especially if the couple is re-marrying eachother for the second or third time. Wowza!</li>
<li>Everyone gets married in the same church. As if there's only one place of worship in town. Baptisms, and funerals are also held there. But, you never see anyone attending church "just because".</li>
<li>Weddings are planned and cancelled at the drop of a hat. Almost as quickly as couples fall in and out of love.</li>
<li>When you go blind in Soap World, you wear sunglasses 24/7 to signify your loss of eyesight.</li>
<li>People who live in mansions leave their doors unlocked on a regular basis. This LITERALLY leaves the door open for swift retaliation, etc.</li>
<li>Blackmail and bribery are more commonly used problem solving tactics than good ol' fashioned honesty or a conversation.</li>
<li>Pictures are often thrown in the trash, frame and all. Why waste a perfectly good frame?! You can still create a dramatic effect - just take the pic out and burn it or rip it up but spare the frame.</li>
<li>Your back will be stabbed (literally AND figuratively) by everyone (mostly family and friends) at some point in time.</li>
<li>Someone is always in the hospital for something MAJOR.</li>
<li>Everyone has the entire town's phone numbers (whether you're living, deceased, or in the witness protection program) saved in their phones.</li>
<li>Coffee is a beverage you drink at all hours of the day and night. Someone is always "grabbing a coffee".</li>
<li>Which brings me to the lack of sleep in Soap World. People make sweet love more than they get their beauty rest.</li>
<li>"You bastard!" (at times preceded or followed by a slap) is as common a greeting or exit as hello or goodbye.</li>
<li>While you are spilling your deepest, darkest, most intimate secret of the moment, the person you want least (in the whole world) to hear it, is lurking in the background (or on the other end of a telephone in the pre-cell days) soaking it all in and preparing to use it against you.</li>
<li>Every Soapy scenario is a worst case scenario.</li>
</ul>
<br />
Did I miss anything? I'd love to hear your additions so please share in the comment section below!Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-44181877011785224042012-04-28T18:32:00.002-07:002012-04-28T18:32:55.624-07:00Quintessential Quote<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ss_U1nJ5Pq0/T5yaHUfiHMI/AAAAAAAAAVY/CkUVHtERV6Q/s1600/the_outsiders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ss_U1nJ5Pq0/T5yaHUfiHMI/AAAAAAAAAVY/CkUVHtERV6Q/s320/the_outsiders.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
"Stay gold, Ponyboy, stay gold."<br />
<br />
-Johnny Cade, <i>The Outsiders</i>Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-28708973000920901042012-04-27T15:37:00.004-07:002012-04-27T15:39:52.127-07:00Cade Chips InEarlier this week I was feeling nostalgic (as I do whenever I look at Cade and think about how he's more little boy than baby these days) so I went through my Blackberry photo album to relive some of my son's most photo worthy moments of the first few months he was mobile (on two feet). As I did, I realized a pattern. Since he's been able to walk, Cade has really started pulling his weight around the house and I've caught [most of] it on camera! Behold, all the ways that Cade chips in . . .<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpa_jtLWsPxweh-r_Uz35lpCthzaoLiEqkWNEMhAv51CfaKFgd4PxJsQkeg5hYaAO8EhLFg2J8tIQwvhgZDn_8sAK0gCUzb938pTXT5ZO55chH9puyl80gINTCv_5np7bTr3Wcd_NtpO5/s1600/bedmaking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpa_jtLWsPxweh-r_Uz35lpCthzaoLiEqkWNEMhAv51CfaKFgd4PxJsQkeg5hYaAO8EhLFg2J8tIQwvhgZDn_8sAK0gCUzb938pTXT5ZO55chH9puyl80gINTCv_5np7bTr3Wcd_NtpO5/s320/bedmaking.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He helps make the bed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMvmkl0wy3lizH4FRQlHPFRQYv8nxZorb_b1hbB5rUjoSTxo_x9ecaGiELUvdkPXNcqDypVXlMXqiqOY0zyePjsomaDfqT7MHqiw6nw7BiVnG0Z8kV0PT7Rpi6xUax0fDt5r2iw4jt7Qs/s1600/bedpillows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMvmkl0wy3lizH4FRQlHPFRQYv8nxZorb_b1hbB5rUjoSTxo_x9ecaGiELUvdkPXNcqDypVXlMXqiqOY0zyePjsomaDfqT7MHqiw6nw7BiVnG0Z8kV0PT7Rpi6xUax0fDt5r2iw4jt7Qs/s320/bedpillows.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He makes sure the pillows are in their proper places.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDAPT3VUdaUDXd7k77ZMH0QoE3mOsmkk5Vcu1tKYaKF6KKua7O_ZEBt9NI6EPhHeziMyTOU6FD7kVsojryjJAHyQKkYPKQQsevA7JOzcD-Rybvmd7U0byllhEDRQW1CsysijlYco2XR7r/s1600/curtains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDAPT3VUdaUDXd7k77ZMH0QoE3mOsmkk5Vcu1tKYaKF6KKua7O_ZEBt9NI6EPhHeziMyTOU6FD7kVsojryjJAHyQKkYPKQQsevA7JOzcD-Rybvmd7U0byllhEDRQW1CsysijlYco2XR7r/s320/curtains.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He dusts the curtains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXh92-l0b4GaLpLvv_Ot0reWMttXY6n6BiBwbl087ikliRM6Jq9lqWNq19a-SzaIzeFFTYNwSC6ElMyCOHGy6Yqv1zcuU6ipA0dYwWs7Tw5XgYq75Wji1nWdWkrXDk2lS8nycKKfSY4bR/s1600/dictionary+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXh92-l0b4GaLpLvv_Ot0reWMttXY6n6BiBwbl087ikliRM6Jq9lqWNq19a-SzaIzeFFTYNwSC6ElMyCOHGy6Yqv1zcuU6ipA0dYwWs7Tw5XgYq75Wji1nWdWkrXDk2lS8nycKKfSY4bR/s320/dictionary+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He takes a break to work on the expansion of his vocabulary.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWrg44RQ48vBNO76r1lC6TYgP9o5r5cz_N3gh5Fbg06GII9oXFNG5eQleG1b45rlwjGteyAY2Sp5qCuM3nlkAdpxRz9gv8V6y3qqMPsWazRV_hXgAW4EEWVPhnZmysovu8BQxRa-9fhjN/s1600/dictionary+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWrg44RQ48vBNO76r1lC6TYgP9o5r5cz_N3gh5Fbg06GII9oXFNG5eQleG1b45rlwjGteyAY2Sp5qCuM3nlkAdpxRz9gv8V6y3qqMPsWazRV_hXgAW4EEWVPhnZmysovu8BQxRa-9fhjN/s320/dictionary+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beginning with the letter A, natch . . .</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZNh0jAAWQ1yu97dgvdiVCDfxjZU8HMKwFmSY0WHWFZ7vjt0V1YH7g9dSF004_hbp86kbnIQ6GwIir6674qmI4xiiiLdKc2Bj1yQ_XVkiJTV84In7-jsc6_O_1esFGzHI6KKw1y-W_8a6/s1600/dishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZNh0jAAWQ1yu97dgvdiVCDfxjZU8HMKwFmSY0WHWFZ7vjt0V1YH7g9dSF004_hbp86kbnIQ6GwIir6674qmI4xiiiLdKc2Bj1yQ_XVkiJTV84In7-jsc6_O_1esFGzHI6KKw1y-W_8a6/s320/dishes.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He makes sure the cabinet hinges are in proper working order.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeH6Ab2gYUWPCs4xYvkl9Kbd2awwctPxsyikTyJdklzHonjwCGmxcI7HytbVoRH7_-8YZTvib5FCRVirPaTAsxP7rCIOS_hyphenhyphenX93Y17H7rNR0d98ZWRto01J0EvUoLpEmUjPBg4gH3ocjpN/s1600/grocerysnoozing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeH6Ab2gYUWPCs4xYvkl9Kbd2awwctPxsyikTyJdklzHonjwCGmxcI7HytbVoRH7_-8YZTvib5FCRVirPaTAsxP7rCIOS_hyphenhyphenX93Y17H7rNR0d98ZWRto01J0EvUoLpEmUjPBg4gH3ocjpN/s320/grocerysnoozing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He LOVES grocery shopping, just like Mama.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfVupi1Gl8vWuBrGNt1yhNreehyphenhyphenFu9Bb5MhXfq1Qc8sZ4IbVWn4t2f13RTVUwJ_wNjbya9HVHlydMG6cW8SuoDOB4XYf_QPt28ARU_m4b47axl1sM44AOxGActpRL4fpILuuAin4FecXV/s1600/magnets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfVupi1Gl8vWuBrGNt1yhNreehyphenhyphenFu9Bb5MhXfq1Qc8sZ4IbVWn4t2f13RTVUwJ_wNjbya9HVHlydMG6cW8SuoDOB4XYf_QPt28ARU_m4b47axl1sM44AOxGActpRL4fpILuuAin4FecXV/s320/magnets.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He has a vision for how the fridge magnets should look . . .</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5Y9qPun11s0CqCjd1nRpZKkNNkwfrwwN5KGPwRvzjsb4r2gKhepa2nOvRckn4OskzEnCUYYldsaaNRRliE1eQLuVzqn1bcZCeQTajWB4iSAidEm9N3AdE3RiSm1blGdJNV-Zm_i70gz_/s1600/magnets2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5Y9qPun11s0CqCjd1nRpZKkNNkwfrwwN5KGPwRvzjsb4r2gKhepa2nOvRckn4OskzEnCUYYldsaaNRRliE1eQLuVzqn1bcZCeQTajWB4iSAidEm9N3AdE3RiSm1blGdJNV-Zm_i70gz_/s320/magnets2.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">. . . and he rearranges them accordingly.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ihKf7_654avRDMEfkM5HQloVOa2Jg8R7Evgbj2wOCA0E6HbirbC9bbjWxLphqXds4MPdaKuJB3w5AZ2QQX7TzjexYWbs3kAcgZV3kDJkwe5Kikx6mlQJ4-oV_OKw6DncHkD5zJzkQ62Z/s1600/pots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ihKf7_654avRDMEfkM5HQloVOa2Jg8R7Evgbj2wOCA0E6HbirbC9bbjWxLphqXds4MPdaKuJB3w5AZ2QQX7TzjexYWbs3kAcgZV3kDJkwe5Kikx6mlQJ4-oV_OKw6DncHkD5zJzkQ62Z/s320/pots.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He puts clean dishes away.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX144Z17ErksSFpCC1PgrKPZhVZVcU5OIoPErJ86EVXfCc-sv3m0t6ZZV2r_qkL1nrnUZtEVxkuDrvmZajB5-Pu9V8cTEkvvmXGDDryePv4JKHD4pLWfqYIAPjRaMe7ge-KuMLdJNKqVJs/s1600/pans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX144Z17ErksSFpCC1PgrKPZhVZVcU5OIoPErJ86EVXfCc-sv3m0t6ZZV2r_qkL1nrnUZtEVxkuDrvmZajB5-Pu9V8cTEkvvmXGDDryePv4JKHD4pLWfqYIAPjRaMe7ge-KuMLdJNKqVJs/s320/pans.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pots and pans are his favorite!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuRaNi3nYzglXUMdGbfoztng6VtxvlTjUfWgts2Awr5uzjz6s9k998q2WTPHzlmyRkVJBJwlD1isAWpzZQu-GreZ6zt3FFfazCeu6E6VR4eZNdJk_ihzvCmBDTvbNR5KCKDR_SxTYEDrO/s1600/pillows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuRaNi3nYzglXUMdGbfoztng6VtxvlTjUfWgts2Awr5uzjz6s9k998q2WTPHzlmyRkVJBJwlD1isAWpzZQu-GreZ6zt3FFfazCeu6E6VR4eZNdJk_ihzvCmBDTvbNR5KCKDR_SxTYEDrO/s320/pillows.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He makes sure the couch pillows are nice and fluffy . . .</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEigj6YDHbuPoNQgcJ62qaViLWOtIHvVfCsMZzFyoBTwW-jtGjbw-fiT3yb7Eif8IgrNbSQBl0YtXE6_F1MxvFsZfUBMlV1oB0_FPVCT6tGiNzl_VpPfj1IaRZt4SNMCyhWUSW4REFGpzpYI/s1600/resting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigj6YDHbuPoNQgcJ62qaViLWOtIHvVfCsMZzFyoBTwW-jtGjbw-fiT3yb7Eif8IgrNbSQBl0YtXE6_F1MxvFsZfUBMlV1oB0_FPVCT6tGiNzl_VpPfj1IaRZt4SNMCyhWUSW4REFGpzpYI/s320/resting.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">. . . which is exhausting and inevitably leads to a much needed "test" of the fluffiness.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9otfaPzQ9OP5y43EAt4HqfZH32A1xu7iwKb5QG3m9-0sWLIBRixHJXnINw79CHL5-mq5330iiRzK25Z0AqE0PEpmtZkI_V8XQIa2OhZVIE7Dd2tAvMjUYtaIAMw6RR-VqcfB1FrS0Ooj/s1600/costco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9otfaPzQ9OP5y43EAt4HqfZH32A1xu7iwKb5QG3m9-0sWLIBRixHJXnINw79CHL5-mq5330iiRzK25Z0AqE0PEpmtZkI_V8XQIa2OhZVIE7Dd2tAvMjUYtaIAMw6RR-VqcfB1FrS0Ooj/s320/costco.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's a big helper at Costco! Check out those muscles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacx2ifv8Rii48DhF80vSDnlhGTOKfpDgyn7Bk_6ZSzYRRm6PsCjq3b98oNjZJfZktZrhQbyLWHpEIZGMOc3q7k9d6pGu8yEsTVJoErf99Xbc7gHmc98gK_SkZoQ5D9zzcdTHB5JA4opH2/s1600/sortingsocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacx2ifv8Rii48DhF80vSDnlhGTOKfpDgyn7Bk_6ZSzYRRm6PsCjq3b98oNjZJfZktZrhQbyLWHpEIZGMOc3q7k9d6pGu8yEsTVJoErf99Xbc7gHmc98gK_SkZoQ5D9zzcdTHB5JA4opH2/s320/sortingsocks.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He does his part with the laundry; including folding (translation: holding) socks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8fpmUoCQT1AtiiJksxZom0rksEDdW3Cm1gt02jIdz3vfhwhjwWpgTPbAJjffC8ICDTSvgluYNyOE96FvDc5lcAATbqmBbgm1l44eFxpWdxEiaLeK_ygKkxXsxXOig6nAc9DQFKoyZw1W8/s320/haulinglaundry.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He hauls the laundry basket.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0ybJ6rqJtd-irz1o4mqQib7PSU4EmOGGaN921WvQ-0RoNsbIBtbyEdxdmbjSuZMN8ODICYmAhR-21zHCfQNYLPJWiTkRoXhkKauVX1-J8UCiel2i1LNcrGaNiedF7lwh_z9S2HqWiRwa/s1600/sortinglaundry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0ybJ6rqJtd-irz1o4mqQib7PSU4EmOGGaN921WvQ-0RoNsbIBtbyEdxdmbjSuZMN8ODICYmAhR-21zHCfQNYLPJWiTkRoXhkKauVX1-J8UCiel2i1LNcrGaNiedF7lwh_z9S2HqWiRwa/s320/sortinglaundry.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And has his own method of "putting away" clean clothes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5j5ClA2LjVBl6QTrUOjagOyNJtpL7SMLfRwG8-ldpR4EfZKvOwGL1e4zmn9LPoyF0AnGB9ZEwx1YLnB3-AA0si5ZFee58dIH0LNQQgrPJbPXN_OtTXyThwwsctqGcQEXhg5puQzfDz64c/s1600/restingdaddyshirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5j5ClA2LjVBl6QTrUOjagOyNJtpL7SMLfRwG8-ldpR4EfZKvOwGL1e4zmn9LPoyF0AnGB9ZEwx1YLnB3-AA0si5ZFee58dIH0LNQQgrPJbPXN_OtTXyThwwsctqGcQEXhg5puQzfDz64c/s320/restingdaddyshirt.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When he sees Daddy's laundry, he usually takes a break to cuddle with it *SWOON*.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpSUUkjRRPT_-9X_BzI5EddWQWwZCRkuuz7Q3-Npt31fQfvlgTYOpHyG1kXvJ2T7VO6UYKoE_mm4k2TQupg0NO9fxLe60DOeFk2R6Ot5ZuxCw3Ui0SeVDVfpk4M4rdIg8VdJwaYaINurTE/s1600/dvds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpSUUkjRRPT_-9X_BzI5EddWQWwZCRkuuz7Q3-Npt31fQfvlgTYOpHyG1kXvJ2T7VO6UYKoE_mm4k2TQupg0NO9fxLe60DOeFk2R6Ot5ZuxCw3Ui0SeVDVfpk4M4rdIg8VdJwaYaINurTE/s320/dvds.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phew! Alphabetizing DVDs (without even being asked) is HARD work!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYh9gDrzekiqWexeHon-dJntgT45R7jDrm0G7WBvowfUjhN-DDdChNKAvmmmoZ-5S4Cb236ATlB9ltvK1RwdwDuTgM3IWEFwKF7pBeE9hpOHNIbp9NV8hk1DWax9aSHaXkKPoPjmFyQtIL/s1600/mopping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYh9gDrzekiqWexeHon-dJntgT45R7jDrm0G7WBvowfUjhN-DDdChNKAvmmmoZ-5S4Cb236ATlB9ltvK1RwdwDuTgM3IWEFwKF7pBeE9hpOHNIbp9NV8hk1DWax9aSHaXkKPoPjmFyQtIL/s320/mopping.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He dusts . . . </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJKcy1H_Q1h0HH4XAhyphenhyphenJn5GJPU1oKVj4M49kHR57BOpB2DrWDNUDvhNp5eGZLStu1KfQ2s3KszVFP4rKFaEiI8dU6yqLYUDLNGcRTwJzKFvOHCKNIzsvQKeFIICwjzHOg8ieI0QjBk4th/s1600/dusting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJKcy1H_Q1h0HH4XAhyphenhyphenJn5GJPU1oKVj4M49kHR57BOpB2DrWDNUDvhNp5eGZLStu1KfQ2s3KszVFP4rKFaEiI8dU6yqLYUDLNGcRTwJzKFvOHCKNIzsvQKeFIICwjzHOg8ieI0QjBk4th/s320/dusting.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">. . . and he mops!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghGR4GYLvAWo0lksD3NhKKjgWVbGbjSctzWJYwbzx491E7rk3XZcFMyCJfhNKEadc-ebxmeCKDDaBnmsqv4QvwOQof_PnJoEaADLGZOijAmaGTx_f8gvohSgp2gx5qsRQHP94kLK-UUOO9/s1600/restingfeetup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghGR4GYLvAWo0lksD3NhKKjgWVbGbjSctzWJYwbzx491E7rk3XZcFMyCJfhNKEadc-ebxmeCKDDaBnmsqv4QvwOQof_PnJoEaADLGZOijAmaGTx_f8gvohSgp2gx5qsRQHP94kLK-UUOO9/s320/restingfeetup.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And, finally, he takes a load off, after an especially trying day of chipping in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-22661565627181989042012-02-23T21:14:00.001-08:002012-02-23T21:14:45.704-08:00Sippy Cup CommunicatorBatman had the bat phone. Inspector Gadget's niece, Penny, had the video watch. The d-bag in line in front of you at Starbucks this morning had a bluetooth earpiece that he unnecessarily shouted the [likely exaggerated and mostly fabricated] details of his wild Vegas weekend into. <br />
<br />
Cade has the sippy cup communicator.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrEIOSjOHB8GUgnErZBF7zptBggA38zRdfl4Z0g4MJqBh6bT5Ap28dVYQZWRIiGYPJ0KBX8qA31oJ5dxdSki6kz2DlghyphenhyphenhqG-Z8-euStaGtDiBxm7hdwOJ92KcPyJg9naxkD_0cSsDMCuH/s1600/sippycup1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrEIOSjOHB8GUgnErZBF7zptBggA38zRdfl4Z0g4MJqBh6bT5Ap28dVYQZWRIiGYPJ0KBX8qA31oJ5dxdSki6kz2DlghyphenhyphenhqG-Z8-euStaGtDiBxm7hdwOJ92KcPyJg9naxkD_0cSsDMCuH/s320/sippycup1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Go for Cade.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIM5VGKIsMT5t7xy0GG4s3IUhFA0OX0NttR_NR4ZvR3wAiyPORhmAvnMRtTW6b34etZrvx3Lnv61honUaFBzMZyqozcLpXadDSv2muvN5-xNmRAxRVpKdV_KHKYtRhOiNGpNszGihGTdc/s1600/sippycup2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIM5VGKIsMT5t7xy0GG4s3IUhFA0OX0NttR_NR4ZvR3wAiyPORhmAvnMRtTW6b34etZrvx3Lnv61honUaFBzMZyqozcLpXadDSv2muvN5-xNmRAxRVpKdV_KHKYtRhOiNGpNszGihGTdc/s320/sippycup2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is serious.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What is this MacGyver-esque contraption, you ask? Why, it's an international cell phone cleverly disguised as his milk container. How do I know he can make calls abroad with said phone? a. I'm not sure what language he's speaking when he uses it but b. with all the inflections in his voice and the animated storytelling going on, I'm convinced there is someone on the other end who understands every word and they are working together to make the world a better place. <br />
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My hero!Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-35952558346608628362012-01-20T00:08:00.000-08:002012-01-20T00:12:58.554-08:00Holiday HighlightsNo, sillies, I didn't change my hair color! I thought that I'd [rather belatedly] share some of the highlights of my family's holiday with you. Highlights that make all the time spent in the car (which was, thankfully, much less than normal this year) well worth it!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmT4g_YyWog4tVnrz2btGNhNR70Hx65rYo_ENCaEL7h6OCTubvbc4nzQ8e4eF-f_MfdJXPqJ0WOf_4uWy159DCqjGxMbakgU5LgDskJUptdXyGkHaeQutw2XsoAQTHTwnDRHsemFTzpYzb/s1600/CadeCalls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmT4g_YyWog4tVnrz2btGNhNR70Hx65rYo_ENCaEL7h6OCTubvbc4nzQ8e4eF-f_MfdJXPqJ0WOf_4uWy159DCqjGxMbakgU5LgDskJUptdXyGkHaeQutw2XsoAQTHTwnDRHsemFTzpYzb/s320/CadeCalls.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Go for Cade." Little Mr. doing business on our holiday road trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Family time. It has never been easy living "away" from our families but since Cade's come around, the time we have to visit with our loved ones is even more precious and we definitely soaked it up this year.<br />
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Cousin time. Seeing Cade play with his cousins is so so special. I want to make sure he spends as much time as possible with them as he grows up, so they'll always be close.<br />
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Husband time. David and I carved out an evening to ourselves and left Little Mr. with my parents. It was a great date night; we ate at <a href="http://www.delspizzeria.com/" target="_blank">Del's</a>, our favorite Central Coast pizzeria (if you go, the buttery fresh rolls will change your life, guaranteed!), and saw "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" (which held up nicely compared to the book).<br />
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Friend time. Cade and I caught up with some of my dear friends and he made some new ones at the same time (shout out to Bode and Lola Bird).<br />
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Cade's Cafe. Open for business since Christmas Morning 2011. Patrons are encouraged to wear the most causal and comfy of attire (translation: no one in pajamas will be turned away). Mama is hoping that all the practice he gets in his kitchen will turn him into a great chef *fingers crossed*. Maybe he can teach me a thing or two?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Ll6Fx1fDfCbSc2KbkVm7Pw1PWIEkis8J2YfDO7K8clwOeSIZwPEJ_jOkHWdFD0Vv_yCW1Ss-kQjmFPJsS_1qrI2U5Hm5ATHlAAN4XsMb4ZAgEj9bhuyVl6zMz4I4iVYPynVA_S-BXJX0/s1600/CadesCafe1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Ll6Fx1fDfCbSc2KbkVm7Pw1PWIEkis8J2YfDO7K8clwOeSIZwPEJ_jOkHWdFD0Vv_yCW1Ss-kQjmFPJsS_1qrI2U5Hm5ATHlAAN4XsMb4ZAgEj9bhuyVl6zMz4I4iVYPynVA_S-BXJX0/s320/CadesCafe1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cade's Cafe</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEKEPot7x7dZoWWxnx-Dh64MHhTLDUgk1gLM0zvQV3-1Uv1N4-eVoHO1stE-XaNyldg7JMwItgyW_uOhzS80aRF6j_4ue8_ETHN2GqEKXqOdZaUJtTUdcred_uf33JWkBLGcdwZ_qZoh6/s1600/CadesCafe2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEKEPot7x7dZoWWxnx-Dh64MHhTLDUgk1gLM0zvQV3-1Uv1N4-eVoHO1stE-XaNyldg7JMwItgyW_uOhzS80aRF6j_4ue8_ETHN2GqEKXqOdZaUJtTUdcred_uf33JWkBLGcdwZ_qZoh6/s320/CadesCafe2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Don't tell the health inspector but Chef Cade is a big believer in the 5 second rule.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkOB5h4zCOIvZvZmPzWWnqju0k_uLTuEZOzO8Qq7mBJ0g0DofUwiJvFjwc8FCqnCPOZcoLv2xkmTadYcyry4NpPIi9giKapussQhPz9C1eRm2pFL5n3EPt3l8LsdroSxCzloBjBi0cux9/s1600/CadesCafe3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkOB5h4zCOIvZvZmPzWWnqju0k_uLTuEZOzO8Qq7mBJ0g0DofUwiJvFjwc8FCqnCPOZcoLv2xkmTadYcyry4NpPIi9giKapussQhPz9C1eRm2pFL5n3EPt3l8LsdroSxCzloBjBi0cux9/s320/CadesCafe3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The proud proprietor.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Thanks for letting me share. What were your holiday highlights?Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-66430269583475443282011-12-17T15:09:00.000-08:002011-12-17T15:09:02.520-08:00Carpe Christmas!<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/AVvXsEgF9xGw7oQWRlFPkwAOvZFWeWpsAH3CrD6wnvvRwqrFme_zZaQpF1FOkUBqsLXYVhiF_yv4EQgFYH5cR84fcAYd1N11fIbZOcy-TV7SrocFNfngOMuB_kUdm8pI7Ixb0lTGGxTD0i53qbWR/s1600/cadevschristmastree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9xGw7oQWRlFPkwAOvZFWeWpsAH3CrD6wnvvRwqrFme_zZaQpF1FOkUBqsLXYVhiF_yv4EQgFYH5cR84fcAYd1N11fIbZOcy-TV7SrocFNfngOMuB_kUdm8pI7Ixb0lTGGxTD0i53qbWR/s320/cadevschristmastree.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I said "Seize the Season!", Cade took it literally. Here he is, attempting to scale the tree and "redecorate."<br /></td></tr>
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<br />
It's official. The [equal parts] excitement and anxiety of the holidays have officially set in for yours truly. I love this time of year but it goes by WAY too fast! Fortunately, I got my cards out nice and early and our beauti-FULL tree has been top-half-decorated (we have a busy toddler in the house, after all) for a couple of weeks, but there is still so much to do and Christmas Eve is 7 days away. We are not finished shopping for everyone on our list and not a single present has been wrapped. How did this happen? I have said it before, but this year, and December in particular, have most definitely been on fast forward. Long gone are the days when it would take FOR-EV-ER for Christmas morning to arrive *sigh*.<br />
<br />
So, I've decided that one of my New Year's resolutions will be to seize the season and start Christmas shopping in November. Like, early November. And, to actually buy things for people, as I stumble upon them, throughout the year (tune in to a future episode of <i>Hoarders: Holiday Edition</i>, to see how that turns out). As much as it pains me to step on Thanksgiving's toes, there's no way around it. Taking little ones' (at the very least) wish list requests pre-Turkey Day should alleviate some of the pressure that distracts from the enjoyment, and true meaning, of the season.<br />
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I want to be spending more time with friends and family. I want to be [somewhat] relaxed and enjoy wintertime activities with my son, maybe even get some crafts going (for fun and gift-giving purposes). But it's hard enough to get the have-tos done, let alone get started on the want-tos (although my sis and I do always make time for cookie baking, natch). I truly feel like this must change. What do you think? Too ambitious?<br />
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I know that everyone feels this way at some point. So, how do you stay sane during this time of year? PLEASE share your tricks 'n tips in the comment section.Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-19805032517435450572011-12-15T22:22:00.000-08:002011-12-15T22:25:36.044-08:00Christmas Confession<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTt9fAlJ6pNQSwfRauAS0yAIeKrPLDhKYRu0hF96fO4lhogIxxMssGVZLbWs3wy1vbxUWx5unATvhIyKjgKZrfdFXTSIwinJDhTX5j1Xh-NNDpE-gu4qdFyNF2Kjmjgbf3oiWc78X-b_f_/s1600/christmastree11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTt9fAlJ6pNQSwfRauAS0yAIeKrPLDhKYRu0hF96fO4lhogIxxMssGVZLbWs3wy1vbxUWx5unATvhIyKjgKZrfdFXTSIwinJDhTX5j1Xh-NNDpE-gu4qdFyNF2Kjmjgbf3oiWc78X-b_f_/s320/christmastree11.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our beautiful, half-decorated, toddler-friendly-ish, Christmas tree!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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O Tannenbaum!<br />
<br />
Forgive me, Father Christmas, for I have nearly sinned. I had impure thoughts that led me to consider buying an artificial Christmas tree. One look at that perfect synthetic one and I could not get it out of my head. It was just the right shape (tall and trim) for the limited space in the living room where we usually display our trees (this year's does not fit -- too full), it stood at a reasonably majestic 7.5 feet and featured a plethora of perfectly dispersed white lights. No water (translation: upkeep) necessary. And wouldn't it be so "green" (pun intended) of us to not buy a real tree every year?!<br />
<br />
This is the first time in my 31 years that a faux tree has tempted me. David and I have lived together for almost a decade's worth of Christmases and never, in all those years, have I thought twice about heading to a tree lot to pick out our annual greenery. It's a family tradition that I have ALWAYS cherished and I believe that you don't mess with tradition. And that is especially true this year, when we have a little one who is becoming more and more aware of the world around him (and LOVING the lights, the wreath on the door, all of the decorations, the music), so you would think it's a no-brainer to get the real deal.<br />
<br />
[For a good 2 hours] I hemmed and hawed and guiltily lusted after the simplicity of a tree that required such little effort. But as soon as we stepped foot on the tree lot, Cade's little paw tucked tightly in mine as he led me to a new adventure (I doubt he remembers picking out his first tree last year) . . . poof! Just like that, I snapped back to reality and the joys of hunting for a Christmas tree to call ours for the season. After chasing the little guy up and down the rows of green, we settled on a larger-than-planned but oh-so beautiful noble fir. Cade gave his seal of approval by attempting to hug it (and, if you can believe it, the attempts continue to this day).<br />
<br />
The lovely, piney, smell of the "real thing" makes it all worth it. Well, that and the fact that, every morning, when I turn the tree lights on, my son gasps like it's the most amazing thing he's ever seen. The coolest part? It probably is . . . for now . . .<br />
<br />
And, we get to do it all again next year!Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-64759970580929775202011-12-13T19:28:00.000-08:002011-12-13T22:52:44.484-08:00Too Cute Tuesday<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTBurnUMqKnNe4uON4qCvdabt__8PbkaHWClt6jR_1piXTiGOkuThnBIeYT4bguJMH9oNZqhgxxT6aTQvJuIVlfW37pjPRc5sYkvQ54hsPkJhDglVO181PdWihNnjbl7Y0elCU6YlaBFU/s1600/IMG00779-20111203-1031.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTBurnUMqKnNe4uON4qCvdabt__8PbkaHWClt6jR_1piXTiGOkuThnBIeYT4bguJMH9oNZqhgxxT6aTQvJuIVlfW37pjPRc5sYkvQ54hsPkJhDglVO181PdWihNnjbl7Y0elCU6YlaBFU/s400/IMG00779-20111203-1031.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fire truck. Footie pajamas. Face.</td></tr>
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<br />
Shortly after this picture was taken, Cade needed a diaper change. After chasing him around for a sufficient (translation: asinine) amount of time, unsuccessfully, I decided to vocalize his options to him.<br />
<br />
"Son, we need to go to your room and get you changed. I can carry you or we can hold hands and walk there together." In true toddler fashion, Cade proceeded to scurry toward me, smirk guiltily, turn around, and bolt in the opposite direction.<br />
<br />
So, I gave up for a moment and resumed the conversation that David had I were having. When I looked back at where Cade was last spotted, he was gone (duh). That's when I felt a gentle tap on my leg and looked down to see him standing right next to me, looking up, one arm outstretched, holding his little hand out for me to take. And, just when I thought the mini guy couldn't make my heart melt any more (I'm convinced it has a super special way of replenishing itself), he succeeded. *Swoon 'n Sigh*<br />
<br />
This moment was TOO cute for two reasons.<br />
<br />
1. It was simply the sweetest gesture. When did my son become a little person?! Without saying a word, he was telling me, "C'mon, Mama, let's get this diaper changing show on the road."<br />
<br />
2. He LISTENED to me. He heard me tell him his options, he considered them for a bit, and then he took action. I repeat, when did my son become a little person?!<br />
<br />
This whole parenting gig continues to baffle and amaze me. There are so many moments that literally take my breath away. Do you have a too cute moment to share? Please do so below.</div>
</div>Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-40932201756011908172011-12-11T17:08:00.000-08:002011-12-11T17:22:29.409-08:00Merry Merry Movie Guide'Tis the season for viewing all of your favorite holiday movies! Toss in a couple of those [mostly ridiculous] made-for-TV gems, for good measure, and you have yourself one heck of a holly jolly film fest.<br />
<br />
Here are the ones I try not to miss:<br />
<br />
1. <i>It's a Wonderful Life </i>(1946)<br />
<br />
2. <i>Elf</i> (2003)<br />
<br />
3. <i>Miracle on 34th Street</i> (1947) - And while I don't LOVE the 1994 remake, I will watch it when it's on.<br />
<br />
4. <i>A Christmas Story</i> (1983)<br />
<br />
5. <i>How the Grinch Stole Christmas </i>(2000)<br />
<br />
6. <i>Home for the Holidays </i>(1995)<br />
<br />
7. <i>Home Alone </i>(1990)<br />
<br />
8. <i>How</i> t<i>he Grinch Stole Christmas! </i>(TV 1966) - The original cartoon.<br />
<br />
9. National Lampoon's<i> Christmas Vacation </i>(1989)<br />
<br />
10. <i>A Charlie Brown Christmas </i>(TV 1965)<br />
<br />
Ho-Ho-Honorable Mention: <i>Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer</i> (TV 1964), <i>Frosty the Snowman </i>(TV 1969), <i>Meet Me in St. Louis</i> (1944), <i>Mickey's Christmas Carol</i> (1983), <i>The Kid Who Loved Christmas</i> (TV 1990), <i>Love Actually </i>(2003), <i>The Nightmare Before Christmas </i>(1993), <i>While You Were Sleeping </i>(1995), <i>Holiday Affair</i> (TV 1996).<br />
<br />
Which movies are must-see in your house this time of year? Please share in the comment section below.Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-45501478682987749582011-12-11T15:43:00.000-08:002011-12-11T16:04:47.819-08:00Silly Sunday SnapshotsCade was on a mission this particular evening. A mission to complete his first ever kitchen art installation. The captions tell the story . . .<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrWU-NKjIk_BVh3N_z4yiJ8PmDbK2RoV4uGfgrbCgzsPYxGg9XE8HnCL-ocOvNs4vS_RAHJNiXLuEfIBGIy6hu4L32EoQupyNduL_pbdrDHeCed0L0wZBYjdHAXxSB4zwXJEUPUv56qhl/s1600/kitchen1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrWU-NKjIk_BVh3N_z4yiJ8PmDbK2RoV4uGfgrbCgzsPYxGg9XE8HnCL-ocOvNs4vS_RAHJNiXLuEfIBGIy6hu4L32EoQupyNduL_pbdrDHeCed0L0wZBYjdHAXxSB4zwXJEUPUv56qhl/s320/kitchen1.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cade's thought bubble: "Hmmm, this looks good but it's missing something."</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFOawem96LdlocSfcp25jwJoHw1S6NREJoLczcm0zK41CS9us_58vukvHMZQBcnTz7wzJ4g9a-fNBMjSgdOfNCFV8B5yU4n4SneVgxIz-QW7_P5RpAl-3D5B3CP8LhEYOiPIF4Gl-h9fI/s1600/kitchen2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFOawem96LdlocSfcp25jwJoHw1S6NREJoLczcm0zK41CS9us_58vukvHMZQBcnTz7wzJ4g9a-fNBMjSgdOfNCFV8B5yU4n4SneVgxIz-QW7_P5RpAl-3D5B3CP8LhEYOiPIF4Gl-h9fI/s320/kitchen2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The blanket and the bag were good additions, and the laptop definitely needs to be included. But . . . what else?"</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzUmFejklTxj7xTxFYouLAuHBOY3Dk2C3TnILatOrxIlMWHw2a5JbOJpdmErXNQkW6FNxYBFN3eCSRWaBxPuEoR8yjye3rq3kAaBalSq3HUg7l_fGArFVY4J2gTl6qiJPPH-SeqhpRYoq/s1600/kitchen3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzUmFejklTxj7xTxFYouLAuHBOY3Dk2C3TnILatOrxIlMWHw2a5JbOJpdmErXNQkW6FNxYBFN3eCSRWaBxPuEoR8yjye3rq3kAaBalSq3HUg7l_fGArFVY4J2gTl6qiJPPH-SeqhpRYoq/s320/kitchen3.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The fire truck is definitely the missing piece! Now if I can just get it over this gate . . . " </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS04XgBVLYSLu0xXLccWIJr4o5-bnH86obaQB18qJ05FPy1-WPZMK3WZF9DGdHz0q7fLRKFMGGu8gP4QTdIo8z9ZwWBViMP9mBpHkH2FwQ6akw3_Nc-vxCWKyulK2s2plgeXx-zeLIEwYV/s1600/kitchen4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS04XgBVLYSLu0xXLccWIJr4o5-bnH86obaQB18qJ05FPy1-WPZMK3WZF9DGdHz0q7fLRKFMGGu8gP4QTdIo8z9ZwWBViMP9mBpHkH2FwQ6akw3_Nc-vxCWKyulK2s2plgeXx-zeLIEwYV/s320/kitchen4.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Man, this thing's heavy!"</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0doesgkMm6x56ByM9KvX9iR3biZ3TIt_pONeqTVMwojwfDzWWXsex0F-24mH2UOL7xx5qm-50VyQI6bDYPyR-AiN4omOWTi4SJvkmEkhiz8Mt305P_Lfib3ZV-To5Xmr63r-1zVjNsF11/s1600/kitchen5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0doesgkMm6x56ByM9KvX9iR3biZ3TIt_pONeqTVMwojwfDzWWXsex0F-24mH2UOL7xx5qm-50VyQI6bDYPyR-AiN4omOWTi4SJvkmEkhiz8Mt305P_Lfib3ZV-To5Xmr63r-1zVjNsF11/s320/kitchen5.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cade takes a quick break.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBU_OC8zdvPUHEguml1otwG_F9WUJGxBilmzzPC72WgH3hiK5HJTCELY09UNCqCSM0xQ6OP2167eDRRipkaLqvLsGapfcnAMtLtsQv1mf4t928UJbgejzvmJrX4QRpjxpWLVOLehnvXP_/s1600/kitchen6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBU_OC8zdvPUHEguml1otwG_F9WUJGxBilmzzPC72WgH3hiK5HJTCELY09UNCqCSM0xQ6OP2167eDRRipkaLqvLsGapfcnAMtLtsQv1mf4t928UJbgejzvmJrX4QRpjxpWLVOLehnvXP_/s320/kitchen6.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And with a final, heave-ho . . .</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd2frBQStgZuXGsJaBOewArFOIKCoqbY83P6gc2fSw8OGS3hpdbfipEnAww1lSEupfqKFgIaPFqM5i83OgKGSjeU9ZeTT0BZRgPJLZwZH2iEzDhW8p3pB7eutvyB4ID9q07QQFly9pLJpz/s1600/kitchen7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd2frBQStgZuXGsJaBOewArFOIKCoqbY83P6gc2fSw8OGS3hpdbfipEnAww1lSEupfqKFgIaPFqM5i83OgKGSjeU9ZeTT0BZRgPJLZwZH2iEzDhW8p3pB7eutvyB4ID9q07QQFly9pLJpz/s320/kitchen7.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pièce de résistance! The fire truck is on the "right" side of the gate and Cade's kitchen art installation is complete.</td></tr>
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Possible names that I've come up with for this project: "The Kitchen of Misfit Toys" or "Kitchen Avalanche". If you have any ideas you'd like to share, please do in the comment section below! </div>Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-3756452277470849612011-12-06T12:37:00.000-08:002011-12-06T12:48:04.125-08:00Quintessential Holiday Quote<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/AVvXsEgbYNukMX2q1gBzLsA2d0vncu1JEdyJYPFZYEzXgd6T6UZwqQF8fc9iIqyirKIWqTP3kW8TYVtxVO2i0-9EYhwXmICHHJD3LL6NT2BP_mpTkv1_ThAkhFF6E4Y_Qx-37z3Wpwzi362h09eA/s1600/elf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYNukMX2q1gBzLsA2d0vncu1JEdyJYPFZYEzXgd6T6UZwqQF8fc9iIqyirKIWqTP3kW8TYVtxVO2i0-9EYhwXmICHHJD3LL6NT2BP_mpTkv1_ThAkhFF6E4Y_Qx-37z3Wpwzi362h09eA/s1600/elf.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smiling's Buddy's favorite!</td></tr>
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"The Code of Elves:<br />
<br />
1. Treat every day like Christmas.<br />
2. There's room for everyone on the nice list.<br />
3. The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear."<br />
<br />
<i>-Elf </i>(2003)Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-5886342044813124872011-11-30T18:02:00.000-08:002011-12-01T11:03:17.121-08:00Day 30 of Thankfulness aka Ode to Rach<table 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/AVvXsEg1x_bSCuzpC9GtO_MHe6I9kv0znqm8f9QzpIN-R-2wPVqEsd5Fs9Mp0YVn97ht7Splsc8pR_x9_nU1spUiW9vBno2aYlUnyNHcIqdFlnLO2fCYntyU8KKFA8yVnVhWywB-vtB6iW6qqH_Q/s1600/scan0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1x_bSCuzpC9GtO_MHe6I9kv0znqm8f9QzpIN-R-2wPVqEsd5Fs9Mp0YVn97ht7Splsc8pR_x9_nU1spUiW9vBno2aYlUnyNHcIqdFlnLO2fCYntyU8KKFA8yVnVhWywB-vtB6iW6qqH_Q/s320/scan0001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L-R: Rach, Marj, Creeper (1998)</td></tr>
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I am thankful for one vintage friendship in particular and the forever friend who comes with it. Waaaay back in 2nd grade, when I was the new girl at our elementary school, Rachele was the first person to approach me on the playground and invite me to join her and some other girls on the bars (as opposed to where you could find us circa age 21, IN the bars).<br />
<br />
Since it was clearly magic that brought us together all those (almost 24) years ago, I shall put it in terms that loyal fans (us) of the magical Harry Potter, will truly appreciate.<br />
<br />
If ever we were forced into the Dark Arts (in desperate times beyond our control, of course), there wouldn't be enough Horcruxes in this world to contain our friendship. Alas, I've started making a list of items we can use (J.I.C.):<br />
<br />
A Mariners cap, a Rockies cap (Benny's Dodgers cap and Charlie Sheen's Giants cap would be too obvi), both halves of an old school BFF necklace, Senor Delgado's sombrero, one of our yearbooks (one that Rach is actually in), a Firestone chicken strip, a boy band CD (preferably *NSYNC), the key to Edward's Volvo (or Brando's Mustang or Dylan's Porsche (sorry, Steve)), Grandpa Cleo's fave cowboy hat, the napkin JK started writing HP&TPS on, a VHS tape with "My Son is Innocent", "Mother, May I Sleep With Danger?", and an episode of MMC recorded on it, black and gold pom poms, one of Grandma Jo's crocheted originals, Cher's Jeep, the Lifetime logo, a piece of Nat's famous peach pie, Victor's mustache, my two-line phone, one of Joey Mac's or JRT's former curls, The Plastics' "slambook", my 8th-grade-who-needs-to-wear-a-dress-to-every-dance-palazzo-pants (vest and choker optional), Mason Betha's $ chain, the hatchback to a petite, rust Civic, a cassette single of LLCJ's "Loungin' (Who Do You Love)?" featuring Total, the curling iron used to sculpt "the bangs" in the late 80s/early 90s, the bell from the Albatross, the headset Brit Brit lip syncs into, one of Mama Del's buttery rolls, Dobby's freedom sock, a whole lotta hubcaps, the letterman jacket Freddie Prinz Jr. prob wore in every horrid movie of his that we've paid good money to see, my preeeccccciiiiiooooouuuusssssss, the ciggy Ryan Gosling was puffing on when we DIDN'T talk to him, a CMSF concert ticket (any of the hundreds of artists we've seen together will do), a tube of Jabot lipstick, the blanket that played Devon Sawa's baby brother in NOTT, one mother of a magnet (aka Ohio Tech) . . .<br />
<br />
This list is literally neverending (much like Atreyu's story) and the fact that we're adding to it every day is a heartwarming comfort to me.<br />
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What I guess I'm getting at is that our bond can never be broken. Not only because no one in their right mind would take the time to decode all of the above but because as long as we have each other (and I'm pretty sure we have no choice in the matter at this point), we can never be destroyed (*insert evil, maniacal laughter here* or simply the RMF version: ha ha ha ha ha hee hee hee hee ha ha). I love you FOR-EVVVV-ERRRR and beyond. XOMarjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-89492894885567912912011-11-30T17:05:00.000-08:002011-11-30T17:05:49.684-08:0030 Days of Thankfulness: Days 24-29Day 24: I am beyond thankful for my son. He has changed our lives for the better and everything is most definitely brighter and shinier since he's been around. Toddler Bonus: Who wouldn't want a personal toilet paper unroller? I don't even have to ask . . . it's unrolled when I get there.<br />
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Day 25: I am also beyond thankful for my husband. He has surpassed every expectation I ever had for what an amazing boyfriend turned best friend and hard working husband, father, and all-around great man should be. And, you gotta love those sideburns *swoon*!<br />
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Day 26: I am thankful for my family. Not only the [aforementioned] fab lil' family unit that my husband and I have created, but our extended families as well. I always say, where there is a whole lot of dysfunction, there is also a whole lot of love *wink, wink*. In all seriousness, we are blessed in the fam department.<br />
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Day 27: I am thankful for open hearts and open minds. This world would be an ugly place without them!<br />
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Day 28: I am thankful for my parents. I owe them everything and can never thank them enough for my beautiful life!<br />
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Day 29: I am thankful for YOU! If you are reading this blost, you are supporting me and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. THANK YOU!Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-66835332557136693372011-11-23T12:43:00.000-08:002011-11-23T12:43:19.179-08:0030 Days of Thankfulness: Days 18-23Day 18: I am thankful for my current gig aka being home with Cade. I always hoped that when we had kids, I would be able to stay home with them and I am so grateful we're making it work. I could not ask for a more fulfilling job, a more challenging "boss", or more amazing payment (kisses all day).<br />
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Day 19: I am thankful for my former career in radio (a medium that is alive and kicking, thank you very much!). I am honored to have worked for and alongside some fabulous women in the radio world and with some pretty amazing men as well.<br />
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Day 20: I am thankful for friends, old and new. My relationships mean the world to me and even if I don't say it enough, I appreciate my longtime bonds and the friends that I have made in recent years sooooo much.<br />
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Day 21: I am thankful for the holiday season. The rest of the year is alright too, but nothing beats the magic (see also: food and drink) of this time of year!<br />
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Day 22: I am thankful for my childhood. I grew up in a loving family in San Luis Obispo, CA (aka the happiest place in the U.S. of A.), surrounded by extended family and friends and a supportive community. I feel so fortunate to be able to "come home" again and again to such a great place filled with people I hold so dear.<br />
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Day 23: I am thankful for wine and champagne. Relaxing with a bottle of vino or toasting with a bottle of bubbly makes any event (even the end of a crazy weekday) feel like a celebration. Cheers!<br />
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What are you thankful for today?Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-36661280636916435962011-11-21T21:38:00.000-08:002011-11-21T21:41:49.824-08:00Mama Memo Monday #3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Full disclosure: I intended to blost this edition of Mama Memo Monday a couple of weeks ago. However, between Halloween craziness (a day chock full o' ridiculous celeb buzz) and soothing a sad and sick toddler who is getting like ALL of his teeth in at once, it got put off. But let's face it, I'm a Mom so flexible is my other, other name. And speaking of flexible . . .<br />
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Long live stretchy pants!<br />
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I cannot sing the praises of loungy clothes enough. I have been a fan of stretchy pants (or the like) since I was a child. I have always been one of those people who comes home from school, work, errands, etc. and immediately changes out of my outside world (translation: presentable) clothes into comfy (translation: can double as pajamas) clothes. I believe it was my Nana who instilled the love of comfort in me and my fam because every Christmas, without fail, there'd be a pair of cozy sweats waiting for each of us under the tree.<br />
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Pondering parenthood? Well do yourself a favor and stock up on stretchy pants now. Any kind of exercise pants will do, even if that's the last thing you use them for. After my C-section I could not put "real" (aka non-elastic waist band) pants on for a good couple of months. My yoga pants saved the day then and continue to many months later.<br />
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Whether you are the one giving birth or not, you will be up with the baby all night and taking care of it all day for the first couple of months. And, unless you're one of those people who likes to be put together and dressed up ALL the time (man, I respect that effort), there are numerous reasons to sport the stretch. Here are a few:<br />
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1. You will be spit up on (and later thrown up on).<br />
2. You will be peed and/or pooped on (sometimes simultaneously).<br />
3. Food will be thrown at/dumped on you.<br />
4. You will often need to dress in a hurry.<br />
5. In the beginning, you will want to nap every chance you get and if you've got your stretchies on you are ready for nap time, any time.<br />
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Do you really want to be wearing your favorite "dry clean only" slacks when any of the above happens? I think not. It's imperative that you can wash and wear. Trust me.<br />
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And don't think it's just the ladies who like to get comfy . . . the menfolk are fans of stretchy pants as well:<br />
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<br />Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6372897360142869741.post-28000703449816631232011-11-20T17:37:00.000-08:002011-11-20T18:17:17.196-08:00Silly Sunday SnapshotsSince he discovered our DVD cabinet, one of C's favorite things to do is empty it. My husband and I have quite an eclectic collection of movies (<i>Fight Club</i> can be found in the vicinity of <i>Babes in Toyland</i>). On this particular day, for reasons that I can only assume (and hope) are color and not content related, he kept coming back to one DVD -- <i>Reservoir Dogs</i>. Call it a Poor Mothering Moment on my part but I think it's hilarious that out of ALL of the movies we own (the majority of which are family friendly, with warm and inviting covers), he is drawn to one of the most "unsavory". I think it's because the flap on the front cover is bright orange and opens like a book (which I believe is what Cade thinks it is). Don't fret, I only let him look at it long enough to snap a couple of pics so I don't believe I did any long-term damage to my child (*knock on wood*).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYol65IIx3uRzsXD8dOeR2G0x6mAvbY4c1pKUQlYuuxbNySjRxoASe5SjlpdQ0fPSnR_pmm05Zgu31zDe9Y4OJf9qVRlVZOK-upMR5rjeGjBkW1XqwddMk56jmuXmFZEl8hzGjzuNJlqXS/s1600/resevoir1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYol65IIx3uRzsXD8dOeR2G0x6mAvbY4c1pKUQlYuuxbNySjRxoASe5SjlpdQ0fPSnR_pmm05Zgu31zDe9Y4OJf9qVRlVZOK-upMR5rjeGjBkW1XqwddMk56jmuXmFZEl8hzGjzuNJlqXS/s320/resevoir1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hmmmm . . . they're both about doggies but what am I in the mood for? <br />Disney or Tarantino?"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"This is a pretty short book."</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Let's play peek-a-boo, Mama!"</td></tr>
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<i>Reservoir Dogs</i> has been relocated to a baby-free zone and I suppose it's time to separate all the grown-up movies from the kid ones.</div>
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Did you baby/kid-proof your movie collection? As long as the little ones aren't watching the movies do you need to separate the cases?</div>Marjahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038731192556262031noreply@blogger.com1