tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-338225282024-03-07T11:07:34.692-08:00And together we learnA hodgepodge of homeschooling, crafting, cooking and daily life.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.comBlogger339125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-24719350658105058142011-04-07T09:26:00.000-07:002011-04-07T10:03:08.752-07:00The sounds of MexicoSo you're going to have to be a little patient with me here. Due to an unfortunate spill a few months ago, the E, R, S, G, and C keys are...fickle. Capricious. They either don't work at all, and I spend many minutes jiggling them, caressing the keys, hoping they'll work. Or they hyper work--giving me a steady stream of rrrrrrrrrrrrr's, when all I wanted was one! Now is a good time--things are moving nicely, but who knows how long this will last? And let's face it, e,r,s,g and c are kind of important letters!<br /><br />So I'll take advantage of the good keyboard moment to actually post.<br /><br />Let's talk about the sounds of Mexico for a minute. The sounds of Mexico are...loud. And there are lots of them. For starters, there are the horns. Every time our assistant starts or stops her car, the horn beeps 4 times. This is entirely normal, and no one thinks anything of it. If I try to get into my car by *unlocking the door with the key*, then opening the door--the car alarm goes crazy. You have to use the clicker to unlock. Anything else and you're a car thief. Once I was inside the car in the passenger seat and needed to get out to open the trunk. Bad idea. Loud, long honking ensued for my audacity.<br /><br />So the horns. There are lots, and they're loud, and it's kind of funny.<br /><br />There are other great sounds, too. The flag raising ceremony every morning at 7, with drums, bugles, and singing. Raucous, exotic bird calls remind me constantly that we are very far south. The sounds of people calling out what food or services they're selling. Bells from the cathedral ring every half hour, then sometimes for no reason at all (that I can figure).<br /><br />I live on a little street with 14 row houses-7 on each side. I can clearly hear my across the way neighbors (who speak Cantonese at home, and Mandarin with me, btw) in casual conversation. I hear the small baby kitty corner from us who cries in the evening. I hear tantrums of the 3 year old Chinese girl.<br /><br />Do you realize what this means????? That every. single. noise. that my preshus ones make can be heard. By everyone out there. And people, they make a lot of noise. Wild rumpuses that would have been normal at home are amplified by our close proximity and tile floors. I nag and plead and hiss and fuss at them, but the noisy is still with us, and that means with our neighbors, also. Sigh. At least they're normally quieter than the car alarms!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-91625287700275528062011-04-01T22:28:00.000-07:002011-04-01T22:41:32.534-07:00So we live in Mexico now. Been here for a month. Crazy, no? Since living in a foreign country is kind of a big deal in terms of life experiences, some kind of a record is probably in order. So, Andrea, Stephanie, Emily, Britt, and everyone else who has been hinting---this is for you!!!<br /><br />Our maid came today. The one who works for 12 dollars a day. She comes at 7 in the morning with 2 liters of fresh squeezed orange juice. Seriously. Then she spends 4 hours mopping, scrubbing, and washing dishes. She might be one of my very favorite things about this country. 12 dollars a day??? Tell me you wouldn't do the exact same thing if you were here.<br /><br />We kept the kids home from school today--there was a field trip that we didn't send them on, and sometimes I just miss them. The boys played with water in the sink and the girls had a Barbie extravaganza going on. And of course we watched The One and Only Genuine Original Family Band. I was super smart and packed exactly 4 movies. TOaOGOFB being one of them. I'm so glad I've watched it 15 times now. And also that Calvin thinks the US has 38 states. If you haven't seen this Disney classic yet, it's darling. Just a bit much after the 15th viewing. But there really isn't anything better than hearing Sammy sing all the songs word for word.<br /><br />Steve took the big kids to the Purissima (farmer's market) late tonight. They bought 3 kilos of mangos for $1.50, 2 kilos of strawberries for $3, fresh pineapple, and apples. Oh, and a kilo is 2.2 pounds. Steve says that when he's weighing the pros and cons of living here permanently, the purissima instantly throws the balance in favor of staying here forever. I'm not quite so convinced, but there are definitely some pretty amazing things about this place.<br /><br />There. Now the first post is done, and that was the hardest part. Pictures, stories, you name it, they're all going to be flowing here at my little URL!!! What else am I going to do with my life of leisure here?Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-18277335727834562502010-04-21T23:48:00.000-07:002010-04-21T23:59:40.093-07:00A perfect, perfect dayIt was my birthday!! I love birthdays. Even as an adult, you just feel so darn special to be walking around, knowing that it's your time to shine. Knowing that I could walk into any restaurant and command a free dessert, just by virtue of being born.?It's a giddy feeling.<br /><br />My darling girls made me pancakes for breakfast, on their own, for the very first time ever. And they fed the little boys and I got to play on facebook. There's bliss right there for you.<br /><br />Lunch out with the sisters and family people. Huge salads and yummy ice cream. This day was already looking fabulous!<br /><br />Stephanie came home with me and we talked of weddings and finals and all manner of sisterly things. We had a wild rumpus with the children that ended with a screaming contest (they won), and she fled the bedlam and left me to calm them down. I led the four of them in a nice meditation exercise, complete with deep breathing and soothing visualizations. After many minutes of calm, I used a mellifluous voice to instruct them to open their eyes.<br /><br />They looked at each other, and without missing a beat, commenced the high pitched shrieking again. Rascals. So much for meditation!<br /><br />I piled them in the car and we headed for Barnes and Noble. It was such a wonderful drizzly, hailing, thundering kind of day-- the bookstore was the perfect retreat. They played on the train table for TWO HOURS while I sat and read chick novels. Oh yes, I was happy. Then we headed home where I fed them hot cocoa (with marshmallows) and buttered popcorn for dinner. I left all the dishes for tomorrow, and I read books all night.<br /><br />Seriously, how could this day have been any more fun?<br /><br />Well, it would have been MUCH better had my darling husband been home, but he was on a business trip. I think we did a pretty good job of living the day well, and now I have all the fun of celebrating again when he comes home!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-32138578684580426922010-04-20T21:22:00.000-07:002010-04-20T21:46:18.314-07:00Been servedWhy is it that some things are ever so much easier in theory than they actually turn out to be? Why is it that I thought that keeping up with the miles and miles and miles of flower beds around my home would be a piece of cake? Cause I sure did, at one point. Not so much anymore, but there was definitely a time I thought this wasn't a laughable prospect.<br /><br />The children I have, while excellent for some purposes, really are terrible when it comes to major weeding. Crazy, right? I totally thought they'd be able to assist me in this not-so-hard job. In retrospect it's all perfectly clear--the madness. But at some point this all made sense.<br /><br />So the yard got away from me in a big way last year. And this year when I went out to attempt to tame it, it wasn't pretty. The field that is my backyard turned into flowerbeds of field, and they don't lend themselves beautifully to hand weeding. Heavy machinery, maybe, but that's not really an option.<br /><br />So after many many hours of trying to make my yard a presentable place, I realized this was a job far beyond me. I called in help, in the form of two little 11 yr old neighbor girls. They worked diligently for hours and made a tiny dent.<br /><br />The next morning I got a call from my neighbor. She told me she does a once monthly family home evening for a group of youth, and could she please bring 25 kids over to weed my yard and clean my toilets?<br /><br />First reaction: shame, embarrassment, mortification, and guilt.<br /><br />Second reaction: flooded with relief and gratitude.<br /><br />Third reaction: gotta clean my entire house and the yard to get it ready for people to come over! Crappy!<br /><br />Last night we went from oceans of beds looking like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbjpLGjs6BZu7TltqN9ypigWc12U6EdLXnOY71svWycGGQY28JS36bm4hV5Kgnmr_9aypu3sSL_FGGf6NnL1VBzF10OTdWccJC4GVE8oaP346CB8ceU1wi34mEQE7vti9M2gY/s1600/DSC06012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbjpLGjs6BZu7TltqN9ypigWc12U6EdLXnOY71svWycGGQY28JS36bm4hV5Kgnmr_9aypu3sSL_FGGf6NnL1VBzF10OTdWccJC4GVE8oaP346CB8ceU1wi34mEQE7vti9M2gY/s320/DSC06012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462442618242551122" border="0" /></a><br /><br />To oceans of flower beds getting shown who was boss:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGpZ3zEEtoXB7cZRgFZ85H34QvOJ74OemBRaIXo5jgBzz0FNX_Zg6TC6y1D5Wkr6aVBUK8jjbPGDzklTR40zsepsQ2GpYTnCykr7dn1CxiFozQDAuZ3ahJzizfRDkcOULtA8J/s1600/DSC06009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGpZ3zEEtoXB7cZRgFZ85H34QvOJ74OemBRaIXo5jgBzz0FNX_Zg6TC6y1D5Wkr6aVBUK8jjbPGDzklTR40zsepsQ2GpYTnCykr7dn1CxiFozQDAuZ3ahJzizfRDkcOULtA8J/s320/DSC06009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462442602401229234" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My darling sister contributed beautiful cheesecake pops left over from a wedding she catered. I made sure to tell them all the origin of the fancy schmancy treats. Cause going to someone's house to do service when you think they've been spending their time supposedly dipping chocolates and putting pretty pink chocolate flowers on each one of them instead of doing their own darn weeding? That's just a bit awkward. With the provenance of the goodies accounted for, everyone felt happy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCbmtNFueQMDla9ARTSZXUaRpp8aJ6TSoApR09nf47V3uTqZVFGa5YcqjwBkRcyxYBCM7JXuewZvkyMtvp1yKUsIVuvS36Qqj_WIglNX9Krjc1HofG22kuOu98prNkZFmFde0/s1600/DSC06019.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCbmtNFueQMDla9ARTSZXUaRpp8aJ6TSoApR09nf47V3uTqZVFGa5YcqjwBkRcyxYBCM7JXuewZvkyMtvp1yKUsIVuvS36Qqj_WIglNX9Krjc1HofG22kuOu98prNkZFmFde0/s320/DSC06019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462442597739756706" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Still a bit chagrined that I'm a project, but oh, so very grateful that this Sisyphean task is now under control!!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-535689950350013012010-04-06T04:41:00.000-07:002010-04-06T05:00:01.283-07:00Spring is in the air. Literally.Despite the inches of snow on the ground, it really is spring. I know, because it was Easter, and that definitely means spring. Of course we did all the normal activities--bunny baskets, dyeing eggs, talk of the resurrection--the usual. But now I'd like to present the more...unique way that sister Andrea came up with of celebrating the vernal onset. I present to you, the chick flick.<br /><br />It started out innocently enough. I was incredibly crafty this year, so I planted wheatgrass and nestled some darling little chickies in it. Festive centerpiece, no?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguM-yf-gBkPx5bOcwoYAVN1sKiovmq6miQPQEZUei_xnRF4iFgXfQDqvjXirWUbWhPd1xztf6Cvcf2ryEJ8l1Rz_qDq_8XR7nH-IISiKZTYgXaVIOOYyO3S73j_tdZ59tbHvxJ/s1600/Spring+Fling+9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguM-yf-gBkPx5bOcwoYAVN1sKiovmq6miQPQEZUei_xnRF4iFgXfQDqvjXirWUbWhPd1xztf6Cvcf2ryEJ8l1Rz_qDq_8XR7nH-IISiKZTYgXaVIOOYyO3S73j_tdZ59tbHvxJ/s320/Spring+Fling+9.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456990755994762162" /></a><br /><br />Then Andrea (it always always starts with her. We're not sure if she's just mischievous, incredibly easily amused, or a combination of the two) decided to use her spoon to try to launch the chick into the grass. <br /><br />Then we all had to try, because that's just too random to not be fun.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbc_I2xS-TI006XddXuqbvcdzxzOmja79XpMEDRiW1PGwrOqJ4pSD4-d58-qJfUEbyx_eaz0W6h1wmhKDIuAke35yUmEM84H2nFfTB4-CIjF4KtjaS5-QvApxdlhKtbiaZPR9i/s1600/Spring+Fling+3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbc_I2xS-TI006XddXuqbvcdzxzOmja79XpMEDRiW1PGwrOqJ4pSD4-d58-qJfUEbyx_eaz0W6h1wmhKDIuAke35yUmEM84H2nFfTB4-CIjF4KtjaS5-QvApxdlhKtbiaZPR9i/s320/Spring+Fling+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456990748815717874" /></a><br /><br />We got pretty good. Look at the height on these babies!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3BuM7X7ULFLNkxTfnvzBZhg9kR0s2juZsdSNXSotunNypL7yBe4yIXRFwjzxqTuwpVTaskHtbcc_XEGJAu8ZgdStg0WkKXWDX5m4pk355E5MFjjCRKyXAQqvyy3TG1CJcoIc/s1600/Spring+Fling+6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3BuM7X7ULFLNkxTfnvzBZhg9kR0s2juZsdSNXSotunNypL7yBe4yIXRFwjzxqTuwpVTaskHtbcc_XEGJAu8ZgdStg0WkKXWDX5m4pk355E5MFjjCRKyXAQqvyy3TG1CJcoIc/s320/Spring+Fling+6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456990734622550130" /></a><br /><br />Tyler (now fully clothed--TMITYS did not come to Easter dinner) concentrates on getting just the right trajectory.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPe4TDpjy7OsjMyCepb4E2he1vXHgz4KQpV3FyUC4To8N8X_-JKoMn2DZCHeXtbAjMCwSYXvFn_gV3EhWoqpbvDZdNN2ZT_tRsnJZhDDNdSVvy_AxW6ZmXeMjELtXgrVfhDqt/s1600/Spring+Fling+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPe4TDpjy7OsjMyCepb4E2he1vXHgz4KQpV3FyUC4To8N8X_-JKoMn2DZCHeXtbAjMCwSYXvFn_gV3EhWoqpbvDZdNN2ZT_tRsnJZhDDNdSVvy_AxW6ZmXeMjELtXgrVfhDqt/s320/Spring+Fling+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456990730738677938" /></a><br /><br />My sister in law Catherine took the photos. Apparently it's a little tricky to photograph paper chicks as their being flung across the table, but she did an incredible job. Must. Not. Covet. Her. Camera. She photographs and blogs at <a href="http://www.catonalimbphotography.com/index.html">catonalimbphotography.com</a>.<br /><br />Easter randomness. What else would you expect around here?Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-52302182104749627292010-04-04T22:29:00.000-07:002010-04-04T22:33:39.207-07:00Happy sighSound of Music is on tv tonight. I'm sighing a happy sigh. Could there possibly be anything more romantic anywhere than the gazebo scene?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPAw_482MXRDbOmvyf7nEbE_Pin6FX7ueG8m4Kk3ySJm0iHEtZeVo26BbISDihkKw4uf2sZSqK8qNeg8m81W3YdkMxiydBODJChD3GTvpQfCoE97uNw17WeKstwZwgC1gwabf/s1600/sound_of_music-gazebo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 227px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPAw_482MXRDbOmvyf7nEbE_Pin6FX7ueG8m4Kk3ySJm0iHEtZeVo26BbISDihkKw4uf2sZSqK8qNeg8m81W3YdkMxiydBODJChD3GTvpQfCoE97uNw17WeKstwZwgC1gwabf/s320/sound_of_music-gazebo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456522075990807826" /></a><br /><br /><br />There's a Sound of Music sing a long in a local theater every Christmas. Anyone want to come?Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-19263737044139521892010-04-01T22:04:00.000-07:002010-04-01T22:23:43.909-07:00Fool's GoldI know I mention it a lot, but I love my family. Here's yet another reason why I think they are some of the most enjoyable people on the planet.<br /><br />April Fools is a favorite holiday for my mother and my kids. In fact, they've been including the auspicious day in their prayers (please bless that it will get here fast and that we'll laugh all day long). The pressure was on. For my kids I gave them banana splits for breakfast, then taught them the classic French game where you try to stick a fish on someone's back, then yell 'Poisson d'Avril' and laugh hysterically. This game was a hit, except they wanted to say it in English, and somehow 'Fish of April' is just not as funny.<br /><br />But I digress. The real story, the real blog post here is the one you're wondering about. Why on earth is there a picture of a man in a yellow speedo running through the house???<br /><br />Let me 'splain. <br /><br />For the last 20 years, my mother has had a scapegoat. Diet Coke open in her cart at the store? Wasn't her, it was the Man in the Yellow Speedo (MITYS). Bag of chips consumed? Him again. He was the convenient answer to any bad behavior she didn't want to fess up to. This MITYS has been confusing poor innocent checkers at grocery stores all over the west for many years. <br /><br />Thanks to my amazing sister Andrea, her intrepid husband Tyler, and the awesome purchasing power of Amazon, the MITYS was able to make his first live appearance.<br /><br />We had just bowed our heads for the prayer of our wacky dinner where we have to eat spaghetti and salad with crazy kitchen utensils, when the MITYS burst through the back door, snatched up the pot of spaghetti, and disappeared through the front door. It all happened in a flash; all I had time for was a shot from behind. Perhaps that's best, though, for everyone involved!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLSiZjUZFGj8lGAblkVWqFzxkHzuKxT_tS7tVMQ1VqWTxzWA2fajLI6b-m0Ffzbpu3pdeP2JGrRDA7UBQcjghg4oQiwEcaWWxhzUOZQg_X29R-50DKvXcGo4XJ9Ifq7scW5A0/s1600/CIMG0424.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLSiZjUZFGj8lGAblkVWqFzxkHzuKxT_tS7tVMQ1VqWTxzWA2fajLI6b-m0Ffzbpu3pdeP2JGrRDA7UBQcjghg4oQiwEcaWWxhzUOZQg_X29R-50DKvXcGo4XJ9Ifq7scW5A0/s320/CIMG0424.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455401905076999554" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I think my favorite part was watching him stash the pot in the garage, grab his pre-hidden ratty bathrobe, and run up the street at lightening speed, barefoot. Only Tyler. <br /><br />The kids were a bit mystified by the whole thing, but they didn't let that dampen their enthusiasm for eating spaghetti (recovered from the garage) with whisks and beaters. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGrace(fully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuAvxgisvGRbVwYCH_r_0Gifu2kYyaKVA8S368Xe9q_ceU-GWaWVCT-wu8aM-LB4UwRkz4gWyntSUxbTUW1W3cDjsLqWXkgfY3EKid2MxrLu5MWFTUQ03brolH3_XDhyphenhyphenbvu1Z/s1600/CIMG0425.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuAvxgisvGRbVwYCH_r_0Gifu2kYyaKVA8S368Xe9q_ceU-GWaWVCT-wu8aM-LB4UwRkz4gWyntSUxbTUW1W3cDjsLqWXkgfY3EKid2MxrLu5MWFTUQ03brolH3_XDhyphenhyphenbvu1Z/s320/CIMG0425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455401899191213314" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYzIS7GsDH2A_WokuF834dslzf-YfOpj7wOdpWOKdt-_M7_NoSEVd1udcrOHYA6kY91cJ5TSM0RhQA8VvyOitJjYyGwJ4mKvRRcoJv3Ec1dzdXNLc9tcGIcUDmizIgrBrmnhM/s1600/CIMG0426.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYzIS7GsDH2A_WokuF834dslzf-YfOpj7wOdpWOKdt-_M7_NoSEVd1udcrOHYA6kY91cJ5TSM0RhQA8VvyOitJjYyGwJ4mKvRRcoJv3Ec1dzdXNLc9tcGIcUDmizIgrBrmnhM/s320/CIMG0426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455401891320118402" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrCwa8c_K5eMFleQyXtgNrzs-UJzJeIDc8kvJ_Z7rhQnvtAttHdQeAEnQ2annX2YBDkUKq2FluBA3K1QMHcivbc2L8F2BB6S5tkWyfUSLIDJbgIbcvkbF1awiv4o1Ha8v6nhF/s1600/CIMG0427.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrCwa8c_K5eMFleQyXtgNrzs-UJzJeIDc8kvJ_Z7rhQnvtAttHdQeAEnQ2annX2YBDkUKq2FluBA3K1QMHcivbc2L8F2BB6S5tkWyfUSLIDJbgIbcvkbF1awiv4o1Ha8v6nhF/s320/CIMG0427.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455401886133159250" border="0" /></a>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-36815486727550914822010-03-31T23:24:00.000-07:002010-03-31T23:37:07.302-07:00Four thousand wordsI don't have tons to say, but there's always something to show. There's something about seeing photos of my kids that makes me cherish them so much more. I mean, they're always with me--constantly present and underfoot and sometimes driving me nuts. But a picture makes me pause, and really see them. They are so absolutely sweet!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79VnVC3F4ViAGTjHiAkIqFDOcXAWfeSzhZ21zAZGlaKObA7JXdy2-9hefI8gs9CIPS78Jc30iawjGEcVFH1KhGToLJqbn8W5sVKYBj1F0pLC4Z6vdkfxZQQ5Hl72qhSIFVUb6/s1600/CIMG0416.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79VnVC3F4ViAGTjHiAkIqFDOcXAWfeSzhZ21zAZGlaKObA7JXdy2-9hefI8gs9CIPS78Jc30iawjGEcVFH1KhGToLJqbn8W5sVKYBj1F0pLC4Z6vdkfxZQQ5Hl72qhSIFVUb6/s320/CIMG0416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455052237948725714" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8t5_E_QYEHLV3xz0AxII2PP9IGwZQeRzsmlNrqSU8JSgtr84EZkZDkWa3o6cZzSq2UfDNOox-oRJSsuX_hKa0iAJ_Xn636UT9NjzC6Ito3S-g3xWmka0eon1VfnYs2zbz7Xmg/s1600/CIMG0413.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8t5_E_QYEHLV3xz0AxII2PP9IGwZQeRzsmlNrqSU8JSgtr84EZkZDkWa3o6cZzSq2UfDNOox-oRJSsuX_hKa0iAJ_Xn636UT9NjzC6Ito3S-g3xWmka0eon1VfnYs2zbz7Xmg/s320/CIMG0413.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455052228656799490" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XJqTTD1RvcI_hRTuRjDYTGb33UmZH5_94g2yGrgyL2CB4sNsL8s3yinnmykhY4s_EcJ8U3tFXMV6LRNm9l7WCBJa1K4_JbTJaaxOlmC9TZGn1Ob0hgIhqEH5ZpYCZ_A_hsj1/s1600/CIMG0411.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XJqTTD1RvcI_hRTuRjDYTGb33UmZH5_94g2yGrgyL2CB4sNsL8s3yinnmykhY4s_EcJ8U3tFXMV6LRNm9l7WCBJa1K4_JbTJaaxOlmC9TZGn1Ob0hgIhqEH5ZpYCZ_A_hsj1/s320/CIMG0411.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455052223076807538" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOafvfmEAVbP1d2FeGQp1cWvPwbzCDCbOaD_J3ZVdznqrqsiEks9zj3Wl5Dxog4SzZHKIO2zC5y7IMyNUzk-aJtGC9ZwfU02VG4POuC7v5Dl8niBmVqC1LdHBvQ2uk1e_x9nR/s1600/CIMG0410.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOafvfmEAVbP1d2FeGQp1cWvPwbzCDCbOaD_J3ZVdznqrqsiEks9zj3Wl5Dxog4SzZHKIO2zC5y7IMyNUzk-aJtGC9ZwfU02VG4POuC7v5Dl8niBmVqC1LdHBvQ2uk1e_x9nR/s320/CIMG0410.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455052219503257634" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydix2kK8Sw7UaOWZcqkogbZtxm-vxA4h4jlgAduvCMatBjCN60JL2duuNwCYjPcob1z6ovKGzqUomNlrsa5GQ4yrzsZKTOQ2EBbXlCNrkxtCzFMv_o007tz8fnwbSN4Dyr1Qw/s1600/CIMG0342.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydix2kK8Sw7UaOWZcqkogbZtxm-vxA4h4jlgAduvCMatBjCN60JL2duuNwCYjPcob1z6ovKGzqUomNlrsa5GQ4yrzsZKTOQ2EBbXlCNrkxtCzFMv_o007tz8fnwbSN4Dyr1Qw/s320/CIMG0342.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455052209796757218" border="0" /></a>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-51405406364959922492010-03-28T12:49:00.000-07:002010-03-28T13:04:56.464-07:00MulticulturalismEvery morning as I'm serving breakfast, I hear the cheerful chorus of "Tauts meeywi, xie xie Eetsa!" I hear it from all the kids, including Sammy. And just what is this merry greeting?<br /><br />Why it's good morning, thank you mother, in the original combination of Mandarin Chinese and Nez Perce Indian! But like you didn't know that. Of course that's what it is!<br /><br />I speak Chinese, or used to any ways. The kids pick up random words here and there, hence the xie xie. And by the way, you haven't really lived till you've heard a very small boy who can't really speak English yet trying to speak Chinese. Priceless.<br /><br />The girls are in a club based on the American Girls, and we're studying Kaya right now. She happens to be Nez Perce, so there you get the rest of the mouthful. They have cradleboards for their dolls that they wear all over the house, they love to wear headdresses, but they really really love the language. I think it's because the words are so dang fun to say--for example, they called themselves the Nimiipuu. See if you can say it without giggling!<br /><br />I wonder how many families get to start their days with this extraordinary greeting! Not many, I'm guessing.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-48718648989782397602010-03-25T20:37:00.000-07:002010-03-25T20:45:48.455-07:00Baby steps to bloggingDeep breaths, just keep taking deep breaths. <span style="font-style: italic;">I can do this. I can blog</span>.<br /><br />I'm coming out of my internet shell. Oh, it's not that I don't spend enough time on the internet--heaven knows that will never be the problem! I've just been in a bit of a funk as to having things to say. So in a rare, unprecedented move, I'm flooding the internets with my words. Facebook--oh yeah, status updates and even comments on other peoples pages. Message boards that I've lurked on for years? Commenting right and left. And even blogging.<br /><br />I know, wonders never cease. But it had to happen eventually. I think part of the problem is that I have no idea what to make this old blog space. Food blog? I love to cook and I'm dang good at it, but the web is chock jam packed full of food blogs. Ditto with craft blogs, and I'm not creative enough for that. As a homeschool blog I fail completely, because our days are so completely haphazard. And mommy blogs are just boring.<br /><br />So tell you what. I'll post smatterings of all of the above, and hopefully some of it will be interesting. At the very least, it will get me motivated to actually take some pictures of my children for posterity's sake. (I want that SLR so much I can taste it. I just know that when I have a beautiful camera, <span style="font-style: italic;">then</span> I'll be a great blogger!!) ((same with a serger. I know the lack of one is the only thing keeping me from true sewing proficiency.))<br /><br />What do you know? This is kind of fun! Spilling all my random thoughts out is actually kind of therapeutic. I just might have to keep this up!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-53047890629509680382009-08-27T10:52:00.000-07:002009-08-27T10:54:27.538-07:00Racism and utensilsConversations around here lately have been great. Case in point:<br /><br />We were just talking about how to make spoons. Calvin theorized that you start with flour and butter.<br /><br />Chloe corrected him, saying that you need, "some metal, and a Black Man."<br /><br />???????<br /><br />Me, gently, "do you mean a blacksmith, sweetie?"Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-39416510416547798762009-08-24T13:04:00.000-07:002009-08-24T13:12:21.466-07:00Dang language barrier!Sometimes I forget just how confusing it must be to be little.<br /><br />Exact conversation from a car ride last week.<br /><br />Calvin: Mom, when are we going to die?<br /><br />Me: long discussion about how no one knows exactly, but Heavenly Father is aware of us and Mommy and Daddy will keep you safe and blah blah blah.<br /><br />Calvin: But what is it to die?<br /><br />Me: long discussion of spirit leaving body, heaven, blah blah.<br /><br />Calvin, later: Mommy, I really want you to die.<br /><br />Me, slightly shocked: stay here on earth, be your mommy, love you, blah blah.<br /><br />Calvin, frustrated: But then I WANT TO DIE!<br /><br />Me: Why??? Life is so wonderful, it's a gift, wonderful family, mission to fulfill, blah blah.<br /><br />Calvin: Because you SAID we got to dye with the kool-aid and scarves.<br /><br />Oh. <em>DYE. </em>Gotcha. Yeah, we'll get right on that one, Calvin.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-68691201459624189092009-08-16T11:45:00.000-07:002009-08-16T12:28:25.965-07:00Peace, Love. Music. My backyardWe've thrown some pretty good parties around here. There was the <a href="http://andtogetherwelearn.blogspot.com/2008/07/ice-cream-for-days.html">Steve birthday party ice cream day</a>, the <a href="http://andtogetherwelearn.blogspot.com/2008/08/poutine-anyone.html">poutine party</a>, various fabulous parties with <a href="http://andtogetherwelearn.blogspot.com/2008/09/food-yummy-yummy-food.html">beautiful food</a>--all delightful gatherings of friends and family. But last night might have just trumped them all.<br /><br />If you haven't noticed by now, my Steve is a bit spontaneous. He thinks of something, then does it. Doesn't really accept the words 'impossible' or 'impractical'. So I should have learned long ago that what he proposes doing actually really happens.<br /><br />A few months ago, he told me that it was the 40th anniversary of Woodstock, and we should have a concert to commemorate it. In my mind, that means "what a slightly random and crazy, yet fun idea. I'm glad it will just be an idea." In his mind, it means, "let's get to work."<br /><br />The next thing I knew, he was auditioning bands.<br /><br />So he ended up with 5 bands that agreed to come play in our backyard, on the deck. We have an acre, so can easily fit tons of people. We spread the word around facebook and the neighborhood, and soon had around 200 people wanting to come.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3ThDWiP8OZHXy8qVNMjINPIKa4wQR5UlzMWgrCO54NAT3UhAMTidRbacun8pnLhVgTOitq_-VSR48mLwgco1f5TTyPoTYSh4ZhoNyZCPT5cedkA6LFpAmFO3WETPkazVSRyp/s1600-h/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+198.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3ThDWiP8OZHXy8qVNMjINPIKa4wQR5UlzMWgrCO54NAT3UhAMTidRbacun8pnLhVgTOitq_-VSR48mLwgco1f5TTyPoTYSh4ZhoNyZCPT5cedkA6LFpAmFO3WETPkazVSRyp/s320/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+198.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370637355953243522" border="0" /></a>We got a portapotty for the weekend, because 200 people are just more than we were comfortable with using the bathroom in the house.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HTHHpuXTdEG5R_Rqo0wxZJKO6oD5z1j0SHN49a86nY8aPxCid_H3zJ6Deou3ucMkcnhQXLlv9VscZam0A9CAzxmRgu6hr1x_FC33hIUW7YR13_SHa3P5t92hkrFmtc8hoGno/s1600-h/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+191.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HTHHpuXTdEG5R_Rqo0wxZJKO6oD5z1j0SHN49a86nY8aPxCid_H3zJ6Deou3ucMkcnhQXLlv9VscZam0A9CAzxmRgu6hr1x_FC33hIUW7YR13_SHa3P5t92hkrFmtc8hoGno/s320/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+191.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370636753053427538" border="0" /></a>As luck would have it, it stormed incredibly yesterday morning. Lots of rain. Wind. The works. But by the afternoon it couldn't have been prettier. Problem is, I think that 7/8 of those 200 people had been scared off, so we ended up with a much smaller group. Oh well. If we hadn't have gotten the potty, of course there would have been 300 people in my house. It was a huge hit, however, with the 7 and under crowd. There was always a line of them waiting to use it. My favorite moment was when my 3 year old niece came out with her pants around her ankles and flashed the crowd. Woo-hoo!! Nudity! This was Woodstock, afterall.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0KO7tE6troXPuYG4ZijSsxi3TZdm9BoYFExHN41gVsXljHc2gdrvMEzrlCbLhAp-xz1wLo3u6KsN4UH9EQuPI3wAlCNzb3cftAVjiR_j3-ovRB0HwOoiPCte7ITrIVm5dBRe/s1600-h/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+196.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0KO7tE6troXPuYG4ZijSsxi3TZdm9BoYFExHN41gVsXljHc2gdrvMEzrlCbLhAp-xz1wLo3u6KsN4UH9EQuPI3wAlCNzb3cftAVjiR_j3-ovRB0HwOoiPCte7ITrIVm5dBRe/s320/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+196.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370636745857337682" border="0" /></a>The bands were all very gracious and understanding about the sparse audience. People just had a relaxed and wonderful time. One of the bands didn't show up--they were all under 16, and one of them ran away and was picked up by the police. He was grounded, so couldn't play. Yes, I did laugh all day about that one.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxCpmpi7TaCVB9paQtmBOdJIMl4G71DRXf7PD0fMmI0SJoWWuFI2GjvIJsiV6DZyD0P6f1GYiPDEmHPIslFZnLqVfRVzIV8JJ4guO8-cZTuBHugtgwDrstn6L99k4xZIqoNPv/s1600-h/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+206.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxCpmpi7TaCVB9paQtmBOdJIMl4G71DRXf7PD0fMmI0SJoWWuFI2GjvIJsiV6DZyD0P6f1GYiPDEmHPIslFZnLqVfRVzIV8JJ4guO8-cZTuBHugtgwDrstn6L99k4xZIqoNPv/s320/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370636733168461554" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5v59jd3I87g2kK88yLpivqPaDUOUWA2M_Gz-l4aLVWud3B6ufbUv8T8dXF-n-Aa8UHS37K5v3xzCS5PTrEinpEWR8iFT_V-o6I8LTL88a7lz2KQgWHC4N9J_FPUzqXcF56sy/s1600-h/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+207.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5v59jd3I87g2kK88yLpivqPaDUOUWA2M_Gz-l4aLVWud3B6ufbUv8T8dXF-n-Aa8UHS37K5v3xzCS5PTrEinpEWR8iFT_V-o6I8LTL88a7lz2KQgWHC4N9J_FPUzqXcF56sy/s320/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+207.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370636722907936178" border="0" /></a>It grew darker, and people lingered and listened to the amazing music. Neighbors dropped by to listen. We barbecued hamburgers and had cookies, the kids ran through the yard and fed the chickens bits of lettuce. We built a fire in the chiminea to chase off the chill of a cold evening.<br />An absolutely beautiful night that I hope will become a new annual tradition.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSo45CV3kwbvQzZCzXaHvOpuD9I1bDPrESD2FZARLb3FeAWKYJi60qA_RKIwnMcxSpIMSBNd6OcYpwfRuxbrRqyiLoMzB654dQOOleQa0uU48BIfhsby93jXDVg1iS0rejYb7/s1600-h/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+212.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSo45CV3kwbvQzZCzXaHvOpuD9I1bDPrESD2FZARLb3FeAWKYJi60qA_RKIwnMcxSpIMSBNd6OcYpwfRuxbrRqyiLoMzB654dQOOleQa0uU48BIfhsby93jXDVg1iS0rejYb7/s320/august+09+woodstock+and+wedding+212.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370636715288803170" border="0" /></a>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-42465266355150965452009-08-13T22:14:00.000-07:002009-08-13T22:24:36.232-07:00BountyDinner tonight was beets, potatoes and onions roasted with a bit of olive oil and sea salt. We had a tomato cucumber salad with vinaigrette and a plate of red peppers, cucumbers and tomatoes without dressing. All veggies. Every single bit.<br /><br />The beets and potatoes were from my garden. I've come to a truce with the garden this year. It won. Or rather, the weeds did. But that's another story. The point here is that it DID produce something, and we ate it. Enough beets and golf ball size potatoes for a meal.<br /><br />The cucumbers and tomatoes came from the farmer's market. Only the red pepper and onion weren't local.<br /><br />I was a bit nervous to serve an all veggie dinner to the kids, but figured they could always eat bread with peanut butter, if they needed to. The rule of the house is that you take one bite, even if you think you hate it. So each one of my kids tried the beets, and each one liked them. Calvin even had thirds. They were Chiogga beets, with the beautiful candy cane stripes, so that helped immensely. They ate every morsel on their plates and were all happy and content.<br /><br />Good mothering moment, that.<br /><br />Of course, a veggie dinner does leave you a bit hungry 4 hours later, especially after seeing Julie and Julia. That movie is full of fabulous, glorious food. Late night ice cream with the best <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2009/02/hot-fudge-sauce/">hot fudge sauce</a> in history was the perfect solution. Oh, and if you make the hot fudge? Please buy Valrhona or Scharfennberger or something equally wonderful. You'll be so so grateful you did.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-89604937868221105612009-08-10T22:01:00.000-07:002009-08-10T22:09:16.304-07:00A place where the sun don't shineDo you ever find yourself doing something that the sixteen-year-old you would never ever believe? Sixteen-year-old Becca would be shocked at some of the things that go on around here, but I think some of today's activities take the cake.<br /><br />Calvin and I went out to check on the chickens this morning, as is our morning routine. One of the chickens wasn't doing so well, and blood was dripping down her rear feathers for some reason. My first instinct was just to run away, but grown-up Becca decided to handle this one, instead of channeling the 16 yr old.<br /><br />I picked her up (gingerly) and carried her over to the faucet where I <span style="font-style: italic;">scrubbed her bloody chicken bum and examined it to see what was the problem then applied copious amounts of Neosporin.</span> Are you getting the visual here????? I just got far more familiar with a chicken bum than I ever could have imagined. And can I just say for the record that wet feathers smell really really gross.<br /><br />Don't have a clue what's wrong. I have consulted the all-knowing internet, and I'm doing all I know to do. Short of taking her to the vet. Because it's a chicken.<br /><br />How differently life turns out than what you expect. Most days I'm pretty convinced that's a good thing, but I'm wondering right about now.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-86536865780291395292009-08-08T21:44:00.000-07:002009-08-08T21:57:45.893-07:00The children meet VermeerI've been reading a fascinating book called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Forgers-Spell-Vermeer-Greatest-Twentieth/dp/0060825421/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top">The Forger's Spell</a>. There are so many things in this world to know, and most of them you don't even know they exist. I had no idea about forgeries of Vermeer paintings during WWII that fooled the world. The book is a little rambling, but it's goes deep into the reasons that people could have actually believed these horrible paintings were genuine Vermeers. Basically, people wanted them to be real, so they believed. The Nazi's were 'buying' everything they could get their hands on, and the Vermeers were the jewels. Paintings were surfacing right and left, and a man named Van Meegeren capitalized on it all. Once he had one painting established as a masterpiece, it became the new standard that all future forgeries were based on.<br /><br />Anyway, interesting stuff. I checked out a big coffee table size book of Vermeers, because after reading about them I wanted to know more and more. I always knew his stuff was beautiful, but wow, it's pretty amazing.<br /><br />So this book was lying around, and the kids wanted me to read it to them. I pulled them all on my lap and we went through every page of this book of paintings. My kids can all (even Calvin) identify about 5 qualities of Vermeer paintings--light from the left-hand corner, blue and yellow colors, meditative women, serene settings, and pearls. We examined the different textures he shows, marveled at how fur can look like fur and satin like satin, and talked about what the women might be thinking as they read their letters or dreamed at their instruments.<br /><br />Calvin asked to read it again today. How cool is that??Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-31781286261229362032009-08-03T21:56:00.000-07:002009-08-03T22:32:46.935-07:00The bard and the babiesI'm currently somewhere in the middle of rural Utah--maybe around Panguitch. Definitely past Beaver, though. Isn't an imbedded wireless an absolutely beautiful invention? We've spent the weekend in Cedar City going to the Shakespeare Festival.<br /><br />This was a really great weekend, everyone.<br /><br />First of all, wonderful siblings Drea and Tyler and Jev and Em came along. Only Stephanie was missing, and missed she was indeed!! But let me tell you that when the lot of us hang out, there is riotous laughter, and lots and lots of small noisy people following.<br /><br />We stayed with my dear grandparents. The relationship there hasn't been as close as it could have been, so this was a great step in bridging the gap. They were extremely hospitable to our twelve person group, and we had a wonderful time with them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLWimB8j_yNytm2phXcuFIniJRd6IA0frqEJ_omOsyUvIFjMRhFNcupUuyaGbsjlUroXVLS1OEZXF8Vk0yPfkuveYnMKBRlnIHva-h_aIkixQyrKkAwRkDOBo56a8RQzIGgzL/s1600-h/cedar+city+summer09+246.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLWimB8j_yNytm2phXcuFIniJRd6IA0frqEJ_omOsyUvIFjMRhFNcupUuyaGbsjlUroXVLS1OEZXF8Vk0yPfkuveYnMKBRlnIHva-h_aIkixQyrKkAwRkDOBo56a8RQzIGgzL/s320/cedar+city+summer09+246.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365971001498065218" border="0" /></a><br />We call my grandma 'Maman' (pronounce it French). She's reading with Chloe here--a little book half in French and half in English. This picture here is worth the trip to me. It's a lucky thing to be able to have a relationship with your great-grandmother.<br /><br />The six of us went to see As You Like It, which was absolutely so much fun. We were in the outdoor theater, perfect weather, great company, and how can you go wrong with a little Shakespeare?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihr2UyFqjC58sSdq2JGi18VAofqp269xKYvqWcI-GhmD33HivXREUnOdH_mCtUFDQiaVnqnuqY01L5j-nebCrmVR35CS8lVQOnJCJNmG4bX_Wggd1by8-LhkMDcrcpZcOuCTU9/s1600-h/cedar+city+summer09+264.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihr2UyFqjC58sSdq2JGi18VAofqp269xKYvqWcI-GhmD33HivXREUnOdH_mCtUFDQiaVnqnuqY01L5j-nebCrmVR35CS8lVQOnJCJNmG4bX_Wggd1by8-LhkMDcrcpZcOuCTU9/s320/cedar+city+summer09+264.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365971020804330578" border="0" /></a>During intermission, Tyler went out to procure refreshments for the group--tarts. 7 of them. Every good Shakespeare play needs a tart seller, don't you think? So he bought lots, passed them to Jevan who stood on a bench and made the handoff to Andrea in the theater. A daring move to satisfy our collective sweet teeth.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwFe44faVeogz7EZ1s7GOzb03qlXeb2Ao3QCPlvD_CzNtD8Cnw9I_zTSvoJlRzwAApHf0mklm66_d6RgkmAppSVkFjur107Cp4oNtF18ghvJTZdqLdlQG176flT4V1jJFSYGV/s1600-h/cedar+city+summer09+265.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwFe44faVeogz7EZ1s7GOzb03qlXeb2Ao3QCPlvD_CzNtD8Cnw9I_zTSvoJlRzwAApHf0mklm66_d6RgkmAppSVkFjur107Cp4oNtF18ghvJTZdqLdlQG176flT4V1jJFSYGV/s320/cedar+city+summer09+265.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365971023225061586" border="0" /></a><br />Tonight I took my sweet girls to see The Comedy of Errors. I wasn't too sure about how they'd do with the Iambic pentameter, but they were great. The acting was so broad and slapstick, you could follow the plot and just let the language wash over you. They were enthralled, and it was a perfect night out with my ladies.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmXFJzpcklmEslG2yG7aKjxPl3zPKsGx2h0vH9lW9QuztDgyVmk3nu17_zh8Gk3o4Y6upuDKUhT30iL0E5yV4xUuRx7VyGIx9HN41LiwmOgQN9ztIySxthECOtcratfY_LQIIa/s1600-h/cedar+city+summer09+293.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmXFJzpcklmEslG2yG7aKjxPl3zPKsGx2h0vH9lW9QuztDgyVmk3nu17_zh8Gk3o4Y6upuDKUhT30iL0E5yV4xUuRx7VyGIx9HN41LiwmOgQN9ztIySxthECOtcratfY_LQIIa/s320/cedar+city+summer09+293.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365971029208862258" border="0" /></a><br />A few more hours of driving and we'll be back in our own beds. Vacations are delightful, but so is coming home!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-4186491504983373842009-07-31T08:58:00.000-07:002009-07-31T09:23:54.547-07:00My budding astrologerChloe has this thing with birthdays. She absolutely loves connecting people with their birth month and everyone else who was ever born in that month. She loves that she shares a birthday with George Washington Carver, inventor of thousands of peanut products. She's researched that Hazel was born in the same month as Abigail Adams. Sammy? Oh yeah, same month as Teddy Roosevelt. But she couldn't find an August birthday for Calvin to connect with.<br /><br />She pulled out the entire set of Power Tales story books, and started hunting for Calvin's Leo soulmate. She came dancing down half an hour later, jubilant.<br /><br />"Mama, it's Francis Scott Key!! He was born on August 1!"<br /><br />I was duly impressed by this fact, and continued loading the dishwasher. <br /><br />"Mom, can we celebrate his birthday? It should be very important to us."<br /><br />I agreed, and proposed singing The Star Spangled Banner on the auspicious day. She sighed with happiness, then told me that, "this needs to be our new family tradition for YEARS to come!!"Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-88328103855801892082009-07-28T22:21:00.000-07:002009-07-28T22:24:45.238-07:00Now hear this!So I just spent the last hour reading through my archives. I laughed and I cried as I remembered some of the amazing things that have happened in the past few years. And do you know what else?? I have a dang cute blog! I have things to say, I can occasionally say them well, and it's really quite fun to read. If I can amuse MYSELF for an hour, surely there are people out there who would read a quick story every day or two. <br /><br />Moral of the story: just because I don't have easy access to pictures doesn't mean I can't blog. Cause I can. And I should. And I will.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-66632508056689999192009-07-28T21:01:00.001-07:002009-07-28T21:08:54.116-07:00My kingdom for 17 centsI'm not sure if I'm updating this because I have anything to say, or just to shock Stephanie. Actually, I'm sure there's nothing to say, but I'll give it a go, anyhow.<br /><br />The girls are gone for a sleepover with their cousins, so I had the rare treat of an evening with just the little boys. After the red-letter event of Wii party with dad, we decided to go to Ikea for meatballs and noodles. Always a hit. Actually, Sammy has entered that random phase of toddlerhood where they will go for days and not consume any food at all. I think they live off crumbs on the floor and sippy cups of milk. So Sammy threw meatballs on the floor and squeezed his juice box all over himself, and Calvin and I feasted on Ikea goodness.<br /><br />I bought storage containers of all shapes and sizes. I just know this is the missing ticket to perfect home organization for ever and evermore. Calvin happily brandished the scanner gun and beeped me through the self checkout. Everything was peachy until I realized my wallet was at home on the counter. Oops.<br /><br />Fortunately, I had some leftover vacation money in my bag (I never have realio cash on me, so this was a bonus). I sheepishly returned the prettiest and most expensive box, and that brought me tantalizingly close to the total I had in my purse. 17 cents short. I dumped my purse out, praying a spare quarter would jump out at me. It was at that slightly humiliating moment that a girl in the checkstand next to me quietly gave me a dollar. Aren't people sweet?<br /><br />So I'm home, my boys are tucked in and dreaming, and my brown sugar and lentils have never looked so tidy.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-29742876074277877432009-04-07T22:30:00.001-07:002009-04-07T22:42:41.869-07:00Computers and chickensThere's actually a reason for the complete absence of posts lately. It's not good, but it's a reason. You see, my beloved laptop died a cruel death last fall. With the economy the way it is, buying an extra laptop just for me to be able to blog conveniently isn't really all that high on the priority list. It's not like we're hurting for computers--there are after all, 2 desktops and Steve's laptop plus all the little baby work laptops. But, and here's the big clincher--none of them are <span style="font-style:italic;">mine</span>. <br /><br />You know, kind of the same feeling that you have for your own personal scriptures. Oh sure, the words are the same, but the emotional connection is so different. <br /><br />I'm also the red-headed step-child of the computer totem pole. If Steve needs either the desktop or the laptop, I need to go. The other desktop is for business, and the baby ones are always gone on trips. So, there's my reason.<br /><br />The other reason is that I can only download pictures onto a laptop--I don't have a cable, just the memory card. But Steve's laptop is the one I'm least likely to be able to use. And what's the point of a blog post with no pictures? It doesn't do a bit of good to tell you what the chickens look like right now, but a PICTURE, now that tells a story!<br /><br />And so, I continue in silence, mentally composing blog posts that are doomed to remain purely cerebral. Good thing my dear mother-in-law spurred me to action this morning!<br /><br />I suppose all of you have imaginations, and can probably make a mental picture of things. So here goes for updates.<br /><br />The chickens are doing splendidly. At least, the egg layers are. All 15 of them are happy in the front room. They love to eat plain yogurt, strawberries and worms, and they're getting their big girl feathers. They actually look a little awkward, in the way that many animals look awkward as they transition from adorable baby to adult. The meat chickens, well, they're not doing so hot. They're outside in a brooder that we built (insert picture) out of an old bookshelf. They're absolutely ginormous and a little scary. Problem is, they keep dying. So far, I have 19 left out of the 25 we bought. <br /><br />Calvin was most concerned about this. "But Mommy, if dey die now, we can't eat them all up!"<br /><br />Exactly, my boy. He's got that whole circle of life pretty figured.<br /><br />Steve is home now from his long trip. That means that the lappy is home also, and I'll someday be able to pull the pictures and show them. But at least there is this post to assuage my guilt!!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-27637989247562936832009-03-18T22:34:00.000-07:002009-03-18T22:43:15.362-07:00Look!!!Look what I got today!!!! 40, yes that's right FORTY teeny tiny baby chicks. After all, what's the point of moving to a house with a whole acre if you're not going to use it any way? So after months of talking about it, I actually and really truly went and bought forty tiny chickies. Aren't they adorable??<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1hZPVRVaZaueA31e1_-9jbUu6xeOEd1mK7ikDc14Ghp-M1zyRrzntb6xwGq6aTu9Fr8gIjbJbnPnPXvKehx3NG5caCU_pAwUDRrOiWAes09gZx9ss2AIC4TgGKixXuqEITmf/s1600-h/chicks+and+a+floor+018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1hZPVRVaZaueA31e1_-9jbUu6xeOEd1mK7ikDc14Ghp-M1zyRrzntb6xwGq6aTu9Fr8gIjbJbnPnPXvKehx3NG5caCU_pAwUDRrOiWAes09gZx9ss2AIC4TgGKixXuqEITmf/s320/chicks+and+a+floor+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314768843125937970" /></a><br /><br />The kids are in heaven with them. They don't want to leave their fluffy little sides.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTRazxrGuA3JIH4qv4_1f1tTMXeYB8sT0WlVgBAthfZGsM1CxxPMOY8nlvk1Uv2Aghj3CGNfDN3jb-1ddhP_ioVsFeq4eQN-fG3uit03FqWRFXRcob8Ij48GCMGKZgjUFlkIi/s1600-h/chicks+and+a+floor+017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTRazxrGuA3JIH4qv4_1f1tTMXeYB8sT0WlVgBAthfZGsM1CxxPMOY8nlvk1Uv2Aghj3CGNfDN3jb-1ddhP_ioVsFeq4eQN-fG3uit03FqWRFXRcob8Ij48GCMGKZgjUFlkIi/s320/chicks+and+a+floor+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314768853163544258" /></a><br /><br />Sammy is a VERY big fan. He's getting quite frustrated with the mean big people who won't let him grab those fun little chirping toys. Doesn't stop him from trying, though.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0R9I2Z6ZpATAdDopMr_VLoPSzWSkBzgoyejY61qhFYMX4N6YJ_EIWylCBDKMyrGFRg6isBCYYwuq7IBwo9xBpoSZv4wcLTGkQjm1j94i8DElO1zzq88HalxREYETFRHMDba2/s1600-h/chicks+and+a+floor+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0R9I2Z6ZpATAdDopMr_VLoPSzWSkBzgoyejY61qhFYMX4N6YJ_EIWylCBDKMyrGFRg6isBCYYwuq7IBwo9xBpoSZv4wcLTGkQjm1j94i8DElO1zzq88HalxREYETFRHMDba2/s320/chicks+and+a+floor+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314768855868267842" /></a><br /><br />So much fun!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-26640392072102746852009-03-13T22:47:00.000-07:002009-03-13T22:59:49.228-07:00ImpromptuToday started as the normal sort of day-after-a-rough-night-with-the-baby kind of days. A little sluggish, breakfast at 11, lunch at 3--that kind of a day. I had to run some errands and Hazel wanted a little friend from the old neighborhood to come and play and eat over. No problem!<br /><br />Then the doorbell rings. A clump of very earnest faced and shrill voiced youngsters looked up expectantly with their pajamas in hand. "We're here for the late-over!!!"<br /><br /><br />???<br /><br /><br />Apparently a few days ago I put off the clamoring hordes of children wanting to play later with a vague suggestion of doing a late-over "maybe on Friday or something."<br /><br />Vague enough in my mind that it didn't even register, but in their minds this was the highlight of their social calendars. What to do? They were so excited, there was nothing to do but smile excitedly and welcome them to the big party.<br /><br />Then the little brothers started showing up. And the four children across the street. And the aforementioned Hazel friend. My sister-in-law with her two cute kids were spending the day with us already because of some pipes being worked on in their home. The grand total we ended up with?? <br /><br />14 children. Oy vey.<br /><br />I made a homemade pizza, had at least 10 (thankfully washed!) hands helping me with toppings, and broke into my hidden stash of oreos for dessert. Goodness, but 14 children eat a lot!<br /><br />We haven't been able to find the Wii since we moved, and the VCR and DVD players aren't hooked up either, so we improvised with no electronic help. On the docket was a piano/harmonica contest, hide-and-go-seek, and storytelling. At the exact stroke of 9, I heaved a thankful sigh and started to scoot them all home! <br /><br />Octuplet mom is so in trouble.Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-16972204947506184792009-03-10T21:54:00.000-07:002009-03-11T09:38:56.416-07:00The promised landI think I've moved to Zion. Or maybe the promised land. Something fabulous and almost unbelievable. This is a neighborhood where people actually <span style="font-style:italic;">care and are kind.</span> Listen to the evidence:<br /><br />We had 5 people drive from this neighborhood to our old house on moving day, load up the vans there, then drive back to new house to unload. In a snowstorm.<br /><br />Our massive driveway has been shoveled twice, both times anonymously.<br /><br />The other day, a man was out joyfully aerating the lawns of everyone in the circle. Just to be nice.<br /><br />There are scores of children who play together in the same kind of way we played 25 years ago in neighborhoods. It's a night game neighborhood.<br /><br />My neighbor across the street called me today just to see how I was doing.<br /><br />An awkward boy of about 15 showed up on the doorstep--think a pudgy Napoleon Dynamite. He wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood and see if we needed anything.<br /><br />Last week my kids and I were invited over for lunch with another 5 moms and kids. <br /><br /><br />Incredible, no? These things just didn't happen in my last house. It was a nice area, very standard suburbia. The new neighborhood is much more eclectic, and it feels very rural, despite the fact that it's 3 minutes from the freeway. <br /><br />All I can say is--it feels like coming home!Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33822528.post-27668790509091732692009-02-20T20:46:00.000-08:002009-02-20T20:55:20.257-08:00The ultimate in misc.You know that packing got a little crazy towards the end when you uncover a box like this one:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-Ni1ehswjr94RhvsvcG3FzvHnDfG8aI7JX8z6oyfA_Y4XRZIm-cQA_TSdy7rHBpq0Vp2FfvEZ-mDTJjpUS_vBq7EObs1Zk7yL50i2bTjbyddiTF75tE-X2PW9gXhGgRETe-6/s1600-h/feb+09+029.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-Ni1ehswjr94RhvsvcG3FzvHnDfG8aI7JX8z6oyfA_Y4XRZIm-cQA_TSdy7rHBpq0Vp2FfvEZ-mDTJjpUS_vBq7EObs1Zk7yL50i2bTjbyddiTF75tE-X2PW9gXhGgRETe-6/s320/feb+09+029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305107928327762898" /></a><br />The contents? <br /> 1 American flag<br /> 1 backpack 72 hour kit<br /> 2 badminton rackets WITH birdies<br /> 1 toilet bowl brush and assorted cleaners<br /> 1 blue headband<br /> 1 piece of a wooden train set<br /> and last but certainly not least (and in my opinion these really give this box that extra oomph)...Mr and Mrs Potato Head Halloween Costumes, including Pop-Bead necklace and matching felt clutch purse!)<br /><br />As soon as I opened this box I got really really happy. You couldn't have made a more random assortment even if you tried!!<br /><br /><br />And then, just because I think they're really cute, here are my sweet babies.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFxdtXamfS3zaTCw6cY6jv_OAD2mqhIIdFnJCEXqGqQo2ZUSSbyFD4qOOSBaWlsj-DfVYhfueTJO00fs69ix6NwD-oWbW52s4IHAubuw3T9QCXCH0MfC_n9xNVpWcaOSrswsuh/s1600-h/feb+09+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFxdtXamfS3zaTCw6cY6jv_OAD2mqhIIdFnJCEXqGqQo2ZUSSbyFD4qOOSBaWlsj-DfVYhfueTJO00fs69ix6NwD-oWbW52s4IHAubuw3T9QCXCH0MfC_n9xNVpWcaOSrswsuh/s320/feb+09+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305107930929055570" /></a>Beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04728293098691973906noreply@blogger.com8