tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-435726619082740612024-03-05T12:47:35.127-07:00Chris and Jane (plus Haven)Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.comBlogger280125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-65378940244014362622011-03-23T13:24:00.004-06:002011-03-23T13:39:42.597-06:00Our Neck of the WoodsChris is back from a week long trip to Salt Lake City. I had a glorious week staying at my parent's house and feeling like I was on vacation. Most of my nausea and tiredness has dissipated. Not all, but enough for me to feel like I'm human again. And, enough so that the Jane-sized indention on the couch is beginning to fade. Ugh, I dislike the 1st trimester of pregnancy so much.<div><br /></div><div>I reached the 12 week mark while Chris was away. Had a doc appointment where we heard the heart-beat again, and because it is getting increasingly difficult to hide the fact that I'm pregnant, I told the world. In case you don't have Facebook, then I guess you are just finding out.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had a cute way of telling Chris that I was pregnant. At least, I thought it was cute. We found out rather soon that I was, but I'd been cooking this idea ever since we decided we wanted Haven to have a sibling. I sent him an email with this picture:</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirqjmkyDWLQ8ArqHJjOA4ZUBlYbrVQovXUsNgKyNsrlkoP1oFcEeHtyCKy4nbND6b5RYUX0Xpt_BSAD1ChOSkw-MYuZEgNUmNZAYWGnKS438nz_R5LnuIQdLTA69y7BImkO-xRG18_tA/s1600/CIMG1608.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/AVvXsEirqjmkyDWLQ8ArqHJjOA4ZUBlYbrVQovXUsNgKyNsrlkoP1oFcEeHtyCKy4nbND6b5RYUX0Xpt_BSAD1ChOSkw-MYuZEgNUmNZAYWGnKS438nz_R5LnuIQdLTA69y7BImkO-xRG18_tA/s320/CIMG1608.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587360297571122722" /></a>It was my t-shirt when I was a baby. I thought it was a clever and memorable way of sharing the news. But, here is how he acted:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSa0HD-B5sH3hJrzuUd3z5ygLGze0sNfcyY58qyCUJv9MzT3PRKUr18W8DlhmA42O_IGICUs6Fi70NR9NTXrkvOl3B69pw_pegwr6s9pGWpHPKpK63e9qlOsQ3P5SnQaqz2tY62PcC_A/s1600/IMG_0221.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSa0HD-B5sH3hJrzuUd3z5ygLGze0sNfcyY58qyCUJv9MzT3PRKUr18W8DlhmA42O_IGICUs6Fi70NR9NTXrkvOl3B69pw_pegwr6s9pGWpHPKpK63e9qlOsQ3P5SnQaqz2tY62PcC_A/s320/IMG_0221.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587360295450689026" /></a>He wasn't sure if the t-shirt was just something I put on Haven that day or if there was a message. He did respond positively after I told him it was true. <div><br /></div><div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div></div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-80092020585183899612011-03-13T11:31:00.005-06:002011-03-13T11:42:10.541-06:00Chris & Haven's 1st time at the ZooI've had quite the blogging lull lately. I've actually considered giving it up. Because Chris hasn't been providing nearly enough material lately for me to laugh at. I'm not going to retire it completely yet, so in the meantime, here are some pictures from the weekend.<div><br /></div><div>I somehow convinced my animal-hating husband (well, maybe he doesn't hate them, but he certainly doesn't like them) to take Haven and I to the zoo. It was too pretty not to be outside this Friday. He told me he hated zoos, but I'm pretty sure that when we were watching the little baby orangutan playing and rolling around and showing off that he had a smile on his face. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGiuk473bmq_r3fYsQQjxVMilkfzwKc9Te_Tj4zXXDHRvmSQIVfXdlr_zWJzZwMePLT6dKI41kPeB3XreCoAjSlHPuGnqmJGDf4_DFfR8YLfyCuyB6vpUeNGhCTqc3ytoS3jupg4snw/s1600/CIMG1659.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGiuk473bmq_r3fYsQQjxVMilkfzwKc9Te_Tj4zXXDHRvmSQIVfXdlr_zWJzZwMePLT6dKI41kPeB3XreCoAjSlHPuGnqmJGDf4_DFfR8YLfyCuyB6vpUeNGhCTqc3ytoS3jupg4snw/s320/CIMG1659.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583619693143836130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a>And here is my little stinker of a daughter, who, when you tell her to smile for the camera, does what she thinks is "smiling." She's just a tad bit ornery. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhfBiVfmkYRKlDYXrSp5MGst4Gr-sgmYd2k6_qCwWLrhOMYkHbVjVjdZFMJ289uYvsrbOQNwSnzsPp8FKYPURjsOCcXz-jnWm-dUPEv4K9Meg8_AV2U-2OXfHhw1OQGPL6raY-4E2XA/s1600/CIMG1661.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/AVvXsEjFhfBiVfmkYRKlDYXrSp5MGst4Gr-sgmYd2k6_qCwWLrhOMYkHbVjVjdZFMJ289uYvsrbOQNwSnzsPp8FKYPURjsOCcXz-jnWm-dUPEv4K9Meg8_AV2U-2OXfHhw1OQGPL6raY-4E2XA/s320/CIMG1661.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583620411111820562" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-21184222053780234372011-03-13T10:10:00.001-06:002011-03-13T10:12:10.373-06:00Birthday Card Dance<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzBWh7G5joDV13U_hq1bA37I4tI5UFdXfAwVJ_Z837OOTSE25D9BJ2lIIF9HkwNeloVwhu4tkJ0MGoOTWw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-8529744151740321642011-03-06T08:45:00.002-07:002011-03-06T08:51:07.970-07:00Haven Turns TwoIt's Haven's Birthday Weekend. She had some special guests. Below are Carrie and Jacob and Cora and Lulu (a Trudy Lou look alike).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2FaxMPvNGNL0P5gFX60Clf3bkeznFsEz2mpO155Zdbw_7CiK0hdP08SAQFzJgrIhdXEn2hJXxrcRQE1zvdKAc7uvRxiGkv1HbXexdUQozccK-MIKb_aLiJclRo4Cpcyk30oNA8qjAg/s1600/CIMG1386.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/AVvXsEil2FaxMPvNGNL0P5gFX60Clf3bkeznFsEz2mpO155Zdbw_7CiK0hdP08SAQFzJgrIhdXEn2hJXxrcRQE1zvdKAc7uvRxiGkv1HbXexdUQozccK-MIKb_aLiJclRo4Cpcyk30oNA8qjAg/s320/CIMG1386.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580994192858624226" /></a>Haven had a birthday breakfast cooked by these sketchy looking characters. Despite the sketchiness, it was a delicious breakfast.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXW63LYXjTMULl7am_benR7279ARjjmO2gldeDVUPDGVHM_DGA9X_xiZtUFwrgssjBfKpwh9GM5o7AaCc1A3zYvuMmvBOpLJtZCMIB2YHdRsOHNb45NzptmsaplnvkKRoqzcalNejDig/s1600/CIMG1326.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/AVvXsEhXW63LYXjTMULl7am_benR7279ARjjmO2gldeDVUPDGVHM_DGA9X_xiZtUFwrgssjBfKpwh9GM5o7AaCc1A3zYvuMmvBOpLJtZCMIB2YHdRsOHNb45NzptmsaplnvkKRoqzcalNejDig/s320/CIMG1326.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580994192135470290" /></a>Cora was all pooped out from the festivities and fell asleep on her Auntie.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEignb64SfbEEwqJJg59ZV4qaKeUjUt_b0dAOQgFJcmwyV8V8XhDSYZ_ieywDeZj05lMq50dcuyazbO-9tlf8g75fDVJobTo2a_FXgCxXmts0qrvkTONOITntOwDsSNcvVMEUNPGjA6zEQ/s1600/CIMG1380.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/AVvXsEignb64SfbEEwqJJg59ZV4qaKeUjUt_b0dAOQgFJcmwyV8V8XhDSYZ_ieywDeZj05lMq50dcuyazbO-9tlf8g75fDVJobTo2a_FXgCxXmts0qrvkTONOITntOwDsSNcvVMEUNPGjA6zEQ/s320/CIMG1380.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580994183720877202" /></a>Haven's Aunt Hannah was here too and she gave Haven a birthday tiara. And, somehow, at two years old she seemed to know that this day was ALL about her.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5cSnInol8AoNQB1OFJlo2Q286VagWFF0539FqB2WitoH4IRBb3ggVi7WAgdQfNgsGRXmKe1Cg6PjFAV_0logUxsy-r3i5GQybtTkD39SOg51uNgdE5ww23ZeQcjT6mwGNF-gIaesrg/s1600/CIMG1329.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5cSnInol8AoNQB1OFJlo2Q286VagWFF0539FqB2WitoH4IRBb3ggVi7WAgdQfNgsGRXmKe1Cg6PjFAV_0logUxsy-r3i5GQybtTkD39SOg51uNgdE5ww23ZeQcjT6mwGNF-gIaesrg/s320/CIMG1329.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580994180405366226" /></a>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-88665257960206427492011-02-14T10:32:00.001-07:002011-02-14T10:34:33.924-07:00Happy V Day<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxagr62lDnrhEu-Q2dM21213azrNif7ulhiIsmYQ_9wThMCq8-1jeC7mjYMncsqosEi0xkvUL6kv3tdTk7B' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-89379948798721258442011-02-07T09:11:00.003-07:002011-02-07T09:13:03.257-07:00Poor Sick Baby<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB6Slgi2iKjSgKjAeCc9RBmruNeUpsU1FxObqnVrLqAGVlZseCEf0Iv6jolz6Y_uxMvAtE-fZPehJUy_ZZaThUei23Wf4SU4rXgmpDhj04RbvQ4RV2xJNUk3wAJpZmjpAXx5xNImvOAA/s1600/IMG_0239.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/AVvXsEjB6Slgi2iKjSgKjAeCc9RBmruNeUpsU1FxObqnVrLqAGVlZseCEf0Iv6jolz6Y_uxMvAtE-fZPehJUy_ZZaThUei23Wf4SU4rXgmpDhj04RbvQ4RV2xJNUk3wAJpZmjpAXx5xNImvOAA/s320/IMG_0239.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570981112851176722" /></a>Haven is the poor sick baby. Although, I don't look very well in this picture either. The only good thing about having a sick baby? They want to cuddle all day long.Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-19529438711908744602011-02-07T08:55:00.002-07:002011-02-07T08:58:41.691-07:00Workin' Hard<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwf3vZ3x2NOlZ6UugLu36VfOWDR1ASgAe9WKMSqIIEy_cly8tAzZc3AQpj-KjZ-k3lS89WHYYcxsKNTEdnw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-75217149647049317152011-02-03T09:49:00.002-07:002011-02-03T09:52:15.809-07:00RedirectSo, not much as been going on around here. But, Haven is always up to something or saying something amusing. Since my fingers are too cold to type much I'm going to direct you over here, if you so desire, to Haven's doings:<a href="http://littlespotofhaven.blogspot.com/2011/02/apples.html"> Haven's Blog</a>.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-65796491423631452772011-01-29T09:01:00.003-07:002011-01-29T09:07:36.446-07:00StuffHaven rode the carousel at the mall for the first time. She loved it. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4TtigJjhaUzbjeACYhZnCQ0IEa_YM-YRrumlA-Ev3mN_h2Rgi_RO59-7fj64ZbKIPmIKc5MbgL-9565RH6QPMMkeLH7pyZQWhFXNDy3KbvGmn26PP1_wcqTrK5SJ_UM9MWKC1U0keTw/s1600/CIMG1619.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/AVvXsEh4TtigJjhaUzbjeACYhZnCQ0IEa_YM-YRrumlA-Ev3mN_h2Rgi_RO59-7fj64ZbKIPmIKc5MbgL-9565RH6QPMMkeLH7pyZQWhFXNDy3KbvGmn26PP1_wcqTrK5SJ_UM9MWKC1U0keTw/s320/CIMG1619.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567639266554878770" /></a>This weekend we are enjoying Nick and Jenny's company. As well as Baby Greyson. Haven especially enjoys her little cousin. She loves babies. Especially when we take out all her old toys--she thinks they are more fun this time around. Just like with Ella, she's been in Greyson's car-seat (ironic because she hates her car seat). I set up the play mat this morning. And, thank goodness, stumbled across some pacifiers I'd put away ages ago when Haven decided she preferred her two fingers. She still prefers them, but if we have a baby around things are different.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3H5KquFDgoxlomgnu79yuFB62gsSCNlR69l2ljBzDc0vUZfJ-uIiM6_LAJeGpj9dRyfwokbKNHzKJrqR7yIn6K6UVua565hd7izurp-Ozzm-msN9qytSE3zor5qLZg8ZqYYa0Q40TQ/s1600/CIMG1624.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/AVvXsEgM3H5KquFDgoxlomgnu79yuFB62gsSCNlR69l2ljBzDc0vUZfJ-uIiM6_LAJeGpj9dRyfwokbKNHzKJrqR7yIn6K6UVua565hd7izurp-Ozzm-msN9qytSE3zor5qLZg8ZqYYa0Q40TQ/s320/CIMG1624.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567639261270790338" /></a>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-81693401706267162332011-01-05T08:44:00.007-07:002011-01-05T17:11:47.208-07:002010 All Over Again<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8oVc8J0EN72KRJdSAt_lev7ZnQKGptZpHZ3iCn9Bs73f5X75fGjR3OGFnSa0h-eEM5W8qLELtOj-EAJ7hs6XwCHDgnaHlhizFhVwDut8Xi75A1z17kOAdhozPJPPmKs60K9GTvMrIIQ/s1600/CIMG1580.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/AVvXsEi8oVc8J0EN72KRJdSAt_lev7ZnQKGptZpHZ3iCn9Bs73f5X75fGjR3OGFnSa0h-eEM5W8qLELtOj-EAJ7hs6XwCHDgnaHlhizFhVwDut8Xi75A1z17kOAdhozPJPPmKs60K9GTvMrIIQ/s320/CIMG1580.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558731656633126290" /></a><br />I don't usually do this, but I thought I'd reflect on this past year. It seems to have gone by so fast that I felt like I should remember what has happened. If only because other people do that and I want to be like other people sometimes. Not often, but sometimes.<div><br /></div><div><b>January</b></div><div>I can't really believe that a year ago I was still getting up with Haven numerous times in a night. Despite, or maybe because of, my sleep deprived state, I came up with the <a href="http://chrisandjanemckean.blogspot.com/2010/01/how-mckean-are-you-test.html">How McKean Are You Test.</a> Truly a significant achievement. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>February</b></div><div>Chris made some fantastic pottery in February and proved once again that he is much more creative than I am. Which is annoying because he's pretty good at everything. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>March</b></div><div>In March my baby turned one year old. I can't believe that in a few months we will celebrating number 2! It goes by so fast. </div><div><br /></div><div>My grandpa died in March. He wasn't in the best of health, but he died alone having pulled off his oxygen mask. I don't care to think about what it would be like to die not being able to breathe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chris took me to eat goat for the first time at a hole in the wall African restaurant in Amarillo. You know you are in for a memorable experience when the owners look at you curiously as you come through the door and the one other patron tries to warn you that you will be eating goat. Good times! The food really wasn't bad, but I'm a pretty adventurous eater. </div><div><br /></div><div>Chris broke his foot (again). Cut his cast off and then put it back on again. He's really the smarter of the two of us, but sometimes I think he experiences a testosterone surge and for those few moments I am the genius.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>April</b></div><div>I got to watch Nathan Taylor come into this world. Something that I will always remember with awe. One of the greatest things I've ever seen. Sure, I was there when my baby was born, but it's something quite different when you are not the one in pain.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chris and two of his brothers went on a mountain biking trip to Moab. Two of my sister-in-laws came and stayed with me. We had a blast. I can't say what we did or what we discussed because it is all very top secret. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>May</b></div><div>This month I went to Cali with Haven, my parents, and my grandma. It was fun girl-time. Chris's Papa died while I was there. As soon as we flew back, we took a road trip to attend the funeral in Texas. Not a good year for grandparents.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>June</b></div><div>I took up road biking in a big way. Attempting 100 miles in the ABQ century ride. It was not meant to be. After an hour late start, going miles out of the way because the route wasn't well marked, and 107! degree temp that day, my friend, Maren and I only accomplished 75. But, it started an addiction.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>July</b></div><div>My brother-in-law, Aaron married Eileen over the 4th of July weekend. I got trapped in a taxi cab during a flood for what felt like hours without a workable cell phone. In Houston. During the rehearsal dinner. Which is why I now own an iphone. Because after all the bitching, I mean, politely asking, my husband for a phone that worked over and over again, he gave in. I mean, he sweetly bought me one.</div><div><br /></div><div>Haven and I accompanied Chris to Keystone, CO where he had a conference. I had a blast. Chris and Haven? Not so much. Haven tried to kill herself by falling down stairs, testing the strength of an iron chair with her forhead, etc. Chris had to conference for three days. I bought some cute baby stuff and ate crepes. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>August</b></div><div>We took a real family vacation to Boone, NC where my cousin and aunt live. Alot of my dad's side of the family made up a very nice reunion. It was so incredibly beautiful. There were some wonderful down home moments with fiddlers on the porch and fresh from the farm food. I loved it there. </div><div><br /></div><div>My first niece, Eliana (Ella) was born. Although I had to wait a long time to be able to see her. </div><div>My first nephew, Greyson was born. I'm really racking them up.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>September</b></div><div>Took a trip south to Kingston, NM over Labor Day where Chris and Haven and I stayed in an old B&B in a town that boasts 6 residents. It was lovely.</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, FINALLY finished 100 miles in the Enchanted Circle Century. After 3 centuries I made it. From Red River to Taos to Angel Fire and back to RR. I actually thought I might die on the last hill. My chest started hurting. Finally figured out that it was the muscles in my chest that hurt from breathing so hard for so long. I had a great time with 3 of my co-riders afterwards. We stayed in Eagle Nest, NM and ate pizza and drank beer (well, that was me). And told off a rude lady at a bar (yep, me too. And, that was before I had a beer). I was hungry. I'd been on my bike for 9 freaking hours. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>October</b></div><div>I can't recall any special occurence this month. Except that for Halloween Haven was a respectable clown instead of an assassinated rapper (she was Tupac last year).</div><div><br /></div><div><b>November</b></div><div>We spent with Chris's family. I ran 3 miles with my sister-in-law Eileen for the first time in about a year. That's an achievement. Chris ate a whole cheesecake in two days. That's an achievement as well.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>December</b></div><div>Finally got to meet little Ella. Haven felt like she should be a baby too. Had a great Christmas with my bro and his wife. Went shopping, ate too much. The usual. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>January</b></div><div>My 2nd little niece was born to Carrie and Jacob in China. I can't wait to meet her!</div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-50471759839685357962010-12-25T20:56:00.004-07:002010-12-25T21:08:37.281-07:00If I Had Followed Through....with my intention of making Christmas cards you may have received one that looked like this:<div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3Gz1tVOl0c7A3VYq1CgchxepBAyVYwF6gaF3uJdUj7sG13t4Q-HBYr9Mmk6uVVlOZHQeh2GHCTqX31sQQPYPCzb7nQh02g2uINAR93VPUVQ1sEtJHEE45PkQEx26pKrAWFa4zOb72Q/s1600/CIMG1573.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3Gz1tVOl0c7A3VYq1CgchxepBAyVYwF6gaF3uJdUj7sG13t4Q-HBYr9Mmk6uVVlOZHQeh2GHCTqX31sQQPYPCzb7nQh02g2uINAR93VPUVQ1sEtJHEE45PkQEx26pKrAWFa4zOb72Q/s320/CIMG1573.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554835245377962162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a>or this: (I'm in the light because I'm much holier than the rest of my family). You can't see my halo because there's a bit of a shadow above my head. But, it's there. I assure you.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqgvcx6OTEvYlNIVy8mVaPMA_pf3alhns0QF6zrk0HM12o7dVUIOUCC0vMCriTw_KbhYn9437yF8vHTWD9dzgjSPXgTDn-dQWFD1H2bBBl74TyhpsG_SQh2GrJFlIJL2IiN0bWjV1lg/s1600/CIMG1562.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqgvcx6OTEvYlNIVy8mVaPMA_pf3alhns0QF6zrk0HM12o7dVUIOUCC0vMCriTw_KbhYn9437yF8vHTWD9dzgjSPXgTDn-dQWFD1H2bBBl74TyhpsG_SQh2GrJFlIJL2IiN0bWjV1lg/s320/CIMG1562.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554835234677721362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a>I asked my brother to take a few of us today because we never get family photos taken. Chris has to practically be bound and gagged in order to comply (which would make a very strange looking photo, I think). Today, though, it was both of those hoodlums who refused to comply. Out of a dozen Haven was cooperating in two. And, Chris, although outwardly complying, was not. Let me assure you. We couldn't take video because you can't send that very easily in a Christmas card and the griping that ensued when asked if he would grace us with his face for a picture was downright <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">grinchy</span>. We are talking about 5 minutes of sitting still and pasting a fake smile on your face. It's not like I asked him if we could burn the fingerprints off his hand or something.</div><div><br /></div><div>Regardless of the picture debacle, we had a great Christmas. If you were family I probably made you a pillow. My friend, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Faerl</span>, and I worked like dogs making pillows before and after Thanksgiving. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJT732GfIo4GQUG5h41VqnI10d-w_VPduvRh9ga8R44xdcl1OmD_iGG4SW1_rDosaGuzqdfXpV99VcQRFHeaHQb05QNBblyH0JQ77_yIYvXQk0OQT0C1gBO4P8CAfZTDOzii2N7x5T3w/s1600/CIMG1532.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/AVvXsEiJT732GfIo4GQUG5h41VqnI10d-w_VPduvRh9ga8R44xdcl1OmD_iGG4SW1_rDosaGuzqdfXpV99VcQRFHeaHQb05QNBblyH0JQ77_yIYvXQk0OQT0C1gBO4P8CAfZTDOzii2N7x5T3w/s320/CIMG1532.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554837126474953666" /></a>One very good reason I didn't get pictures taken and sent. Plus there's this little almost-two-year old that keeps me busy. <div><br /></div><div>Merry Christmas, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ya'll</span>! Hope it was special.<br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /></div></div></div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-1088240066879409312010-12-23T08:33:00.003-07:002010-12-23T09:21:43.791-07:00Sweet Cousins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTf7ajBkG8XLNx0Zzo7fL7BhTlEljbtlvYigXPMVfB1ZoXclAsmC9QwVZzFav9bnzzbSMWvOqUtWjkVtdSrzYs-rkIuh6QoD4KiehheBoIFU02wDttfqYaTNEyy2RCrUtzOnTZT50bg/s1600/IMG_0192.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTf7ajBkG8XLNx0Zzo7fL7BhTlEljbtlvYigXPMVfB1ZoXclAsmC9QwVZzFav9bnzzbSMWvOqUtWjkVtdSrzYs-rkIuh6QoD4KiehheBoIFU02wDttfqYaTNEyy2RCrUtzOnTZT50bg/s320/IMG_0192.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553912066229646802" /></a>Haven and Ella have been enjoying each other's company this week. However, it has led to a bit of regression on Haven's part. I had the privilege of babysitting Ella for a few hours while David and Christine went skiing (then I joined them and we left the kids to their own devices--Haven's old enough to care for herself and Ella.) Actually, my parent's came up, but the first story sounds more interesting). So, while I was in charge, I set up the swing for Ella. But, guess who thought she should be in the swing?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdYGKZFnrUvVTVTRkgwBgQZ2FOlDnLxgX3KQkU25zfjg6z-WCJt4alwkROxSiwgkxOpQgqPNV9opiZ-YJ8kUVRdyGuabSMg2q3o4S-c5dWz5rtGY1teG7Vgvl9PUffyqIGRRv3qCcjpg/s1600/CIMG1547.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/AVvXsEhdYGKZFnrUvVTVTRkgwBgQZ2FOlDnLxgX3KQkU25zfjg6z-WCJt4alwkROxSiwgkxOpQgqPNV9opiZ-YJ8kUVRdyGuabSMg2q3o4S-c5dWz5rtGY1teG7Vgvl9PUffyqIGRRv3qCcjpg/s320/CIMG1547.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553912061817130498" /></a>And, the paci? She's never cared for them because she loves her two fingers. Fortunately, Christine brought one for both "babies." I turned the swing on and let Haven cocoon herself for awhile. She was quite comfy in there. <div><br /></div><div>Ella is the easiest baby. She's only fussy when she eats. Which is ironic because based on her size you'd think she'd love it. </div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-92000525687087422022010-12-13T20:21:00.002-07:002010-12-13T20:27:26.474-07:00Finally!!got to meet my niece, Ella Keagy for the first time. I didn't get to see my brother, but he probably wouldn't have gotten any attention anyway. Because Miss Ella kinda steals the show. She's 4 months old and half of Haven's weight. It always blows me away how skinny my little girl is. She really liked Ella. But, she was so busy eating all day I didn't get any shots of her holding her cousin. And, she confused Ella with her other cousin Greyson. She's not real good with gender yet. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4B-1-zT_8d_assYEt7J3XOVfnK8xMYKjr3HPRjgiLnkM1sZAxMwtywTJgYBejupfl5uNmpelYeB-rkOxueKD-1bbi9SuTKrRueUJW3w9FqEBTmz6CqhonPxrZbujB8SC7ZNdmwTUxag/s1600/CIMG1536.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/AVvXsEj4B-1-zT_8d_assYEt7J3XOVfnK8xMYKjr3HPRjgiLnkM1sZAxMwtywTJgYBejupfl5uNmpelYeB-rkOxueKD-1bbi9SuTKrRueUJW3w9FqEBTmz6CqhonPxrZbujB8SC7ZNdmwTUxag/s320/CIMG1536.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550373077305829826" /></a>This is my naughty, adorable little girl in a box. She loves boxes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSaeHzM_hb12Wv135IzF2o1Jq6EpJewnM8wwpw8nr6egqkdm8xT3fSlDfvttqD6uc9eZ4Ledx9PtefMuNKxYAyQ27xYH3CJfHAo2cw_pkwF1HeZtJSr-lRhZC8nN66yJZZ2k093Q9f-A/s1600/CIMG1530.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/AVvXsEjSaeHzM_hb12Wv135IzF2o1Jq6EpJewnM8wwpw8nr6egqkdm8xT3fSlDfvttqD6uc9eZ4Ledx9PtefMuNKxYAyQ27xYH3CJfHAo2cw_pkwF1HeZtJSr-lRhZC8nN66yJZZ2k093Q9f-A/s320/CIMG1530.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550373070478653522" /></a>Funny story: we were at a friend's house last night. They have a little boy who is about 5 months older than Haven. They were playing in his room and it got awfully quiet. Which usually means that they are up to something. I took my shoes off and snuck down the hall, peeked around the corner, and spotted them in Gabe's crib. They'd climbed into the crib, Gabe had his arms around Haven and was kissing her. It was really cute and sweet. And, won't fly in a few years so they'd better live it up. Haven just sat there and stared at him. Maybe it wasn't quite as romantic a moment for her as it was for him? Which is usually the case between men and women if you ask me.Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-6303078945049962702010-11-14T14:55:00.003-07:002010-11-14T15:06:54.008-07:00Birthday Story<div><br /></div>I had a really great birthday. Rather than tell you how old I am I will tell you a little story:<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTHqMSMbSbAemlNfa9TpCiSZnYALv-Dr1x43usv4lyCCQKhkv6RnnKlq59vixqx2GTWj4bM241YYwFTlYBYd9pYMqN99xFAOyRVny0l_RHzaB4yk4GK7O1OfOPF8M6LaC9LvHNRopMQ/s1600/Photo+on+2010-05-25+at+20.25+%25232.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/AVvXsEgOTHqMSMbSbAemlNfa9TpCiSZnYALv-Dr1x43usv4lyCCQKhkv6RnnKlq59vixqx2GTWj4bM241YYwFTlYBYd9pYMqN99xFAOyRVny0l_RHzaB4yk4GK7O1OfOPF8M6LaC9LvHNRopMQ/s320/Photo+on+2010-05-25+at+20.25+%25232.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539530169086236850" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">This morning started out okay. I was peacefully sipping my requisite cup of coffee before taking on any kind of tasks required of a housewife/mother/dog owner. Chris was beside me doing the same. My darling daughter, who has for the past few days been a mama's girl (I don't know what happened to change her from daddy's girl to mama's girl--although I suspect it has something to do with teeth coming in, not because I am the coolest mom ever), was trying to climb into my lap. She hit my arm and my coffee spilled right into my lap. My pj's were rather thin, the coffee was warm.</div><div><div>"It feels like I've peed myself," I told Chris.</div><div>"That's probably going to happen a lot now that you are older," he said.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, yeah, I had a nice birthday. Will he be having a nice birthday in June? Doubt it.</div></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-90701259783605556762010-11-01T13:04:00.004-06:002010-11-01T13:24:09.877-06:00Good Timing, Carrie...I was Due for a New Blog Post<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; "><b><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">My lovely sister-in-law, Carrie, tagged me in a blog post. I'm supposed to answer all these questions about myself. Will this amuse anyone but me? Probably not. Does it matter? Probably not...</span></span></span></div></b></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEkjuWKPskJnkc3Yl4-pbK-94r2aa5TgA6OEcAGfWmyiVyroKAkbVCEaKuZgmhVXnaFb9yDEX_COumV-yC2z0Ws29gI_DHRWUnmvnE4vLcw-PPjZJ_NfQPQCOTbwomcobo2K8QLzoRg/s1600/IMG_0094.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEkjuWKPskJnkc3Yl4-pbK-94r2aa5TgA6OEcAGfWmyiVyroKAkbVCEaKuZgmhVXnaFb9yDEX_COumV-yC2z0Ws29gI_DHRWUnmvnE4vLcw-PPjZJ_NfQPQCOTbwomcobo2K8QLzoRg/s320/IMG_0094.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534663602656879458" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px; "><b><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b><div style="display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1. What is your biggest pet peeve?</span></span></b></span></div></b></span></div></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Hands down, without a doubt, the answer would be smacking. Smacking food, smacking gum. I will want to hit you. Also, and this is really gross, so it should be your pet-peeve too--you know when people have a stopped up nose and they inhale and you just know all those boogers are in their mouth?...and then they don't spit it out. Go ahead, spit it out--it may be rude to spit, but I can live with it because the other alternative is that you've swallowed all those boogers and that just makes me want to gag.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">2. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />By the ocean. A warm ocean where I could swim or snorkel every day. I LOVE the sea. It's so mysterious. It can kill you. For some reason that appeals to me. Which is ironic because I don't like spiders and they can kill me too. That's comparing apples and oranges and is probably <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ridiculous</span>.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">3. Have you ever been searched by the cops?</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />Searched? No. I've never done anything that would even warrant a ticket.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">4. What is the one thing on your mind right now?</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />Why isn't my child sleeping? She's supposed to be taking a nap and instead she is talking in her crib and has been for about an hour now. She's calling Sophie (our dog) and telling her to go outside.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">5. Favorite song right now.</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />Carrie, you're making me look bad with your Christian music favorites.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I like:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Nelly's "Just a Dream"</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and anything else I can dance to.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">6. What talent do you wish you had?</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />I wish I was crafty. Martha Stewart Crafty. I'm plenty other kind of crafty.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Creating things causes me great frustration. If it takes more than 5 minutes then it's probably already lost my interest.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">7. Favorite drink.</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />Well, at the risk of sounding like an alcoholic I like gin and tonics, bloody <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mary's</span>, and dark beer. But, not all at once.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">8. In one word, how would you describe yourself.</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Mischievous</span></span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px; font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />I'm supposed to tag other people. But, last time I did one of these Q&A's the people I tagged didn't do it, so I'm going to go clean my house now. </span></span><br /></span></div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-13294152536262201082010-10-12T12:27:00.005-06:002010-10-12T12:41:48.220-06:00When Hugs Go WrongWe went to the pumpkin patch today. After an incredibly uncomfortable hayride--hayrides, for the record, are for children, only a small child can appreciate being poked in the rear with an errant piece of hay--we were let out at a pumpkin patch where we could select our own pumpkin after much deliberation. Haven chose this beauty. And four others. Although only one gets to go home with us. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiillhcpgtL42Le0TU7T9trMssToM9mZdbakIAm3eeE0ChYY3xIkep_zUM4DLAdIp6LuICdk9oqdpCjIjvBXpAiqIMMcjPS_V5czEXIBBUE0UCEtSpGRtFp5GwUpXPpbQ0nQnrm21ElKA/s1600/CIMG1505.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/AVvXsEiillhcpgtL42Le0TU7T9trMssToM9mZdbakIAm3eeE0ChYY3xIkep_zUM4DLAdIp6LuICdk9oqdpCjIjvBXpAiqIMMcjPS_V5czEXIBBUE0UCEtSpGRtFp5GwUpXPpbQ0nQnrm21ElKA/s320/CIMG1505.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527228913376840978" /></a>Here is where the title of this post comes in. This is Molly and Haven (and Molly's sweet Mama, Felisa in the background). Molly and Haven love to hug each other. But, sometimes, the venue doesn't cater to affection.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHMkbanfmkrC4J56dwO0QYfCidQd6joVIPpyZyRKoI6Vxxq5kZaGsU0hnXu6Ywa4EiwJ7tmRlkAynnbNpjD6ASgnw3I_a3yG_AgE_0k5O5DlY6flVducZ70g1wSfFPBY-qzZDTQgb7g/s1600/CIMG1507.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/AVvXsEjJHMkbanfmkrC4J56dwO0QYfCidQd6joVIPpyZyRKoI6Vxxq5kZaGsU0hnXu6Ywa4EiwJ7tmRlkAynnbNpjD6ASgnw3I_a3yG_AgE_0k5O5DlY6flVducZ70g1wSfFPBY-qzZDTQgb7g/s320/CIMG1507.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527228910013604242" /></a>The ground is rather uneven and their hug ended up in a tackle. It was pretty funny. Instead of picking them up off the ground, I took a picture. It's one of the most enthusiastic hugs I've seen in awhile.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0T-VssyrgdsZ-vxBy4XIRRK7Y2lMt4BwxB7GtnJqJsGcFYIQ6fOYzmn9vgc0MY9DZQoajTSIClOGgrWb7vahzwxplmC9eR3e14HWxQCXzfoF3HPhQpvoedzW9KXg6xiwKQmzXJ_lW2A/s1600/CIMG1508.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/AVvXsEj0T-VssyrgdsZ-vxBy4XIRRK7Y2lMt4BwxB7GtnJqJsGcFYIQ6fOYzmn9vgc0MY9DZQoajTSIClOGgrWb7vahzwxplmC9eR3e14HWxQCXzfoF3HPhQpvoedzW9KXg6xiwKQmzXJ_lW2A/s320/CIMG1508.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527228901164439666" /></a>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-29443524382035653442010-10-03T19:42:00.002-06:002010-10-03T20:03:11.073-06:00Balloons & BabiesIt's Balloon Fiesta time in the city. I love this time of year here. Albuquerque is at it's best in the Autumn. The smell of green chile roasting, pinon wood fires, balloons in the sky (if you happen to live on the other side of the mountain you can see them almost every morning for two weeks), I could go on, but I think that's tempting enough. We stayed at my parent's house on Friday night so Haven (okay, so, I) could see the balloons in the morning as we drove to Bernalillo to eat Huevos Rancheros at the Range Cafe (hmm, I slipped another tempter in there without even trying to). It's easiest to see balloons in my mom's convertible, and fortunately for us, this weekend was warm. Usually you need a heavy coat to watch balloons. Here's Haven spotting one in the sky. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMqHjZs51SFmdgFd3Ef4AtISKDac79YoMenNrHveP1DktotUnTlt8rWmjg-aY6mlZGk56SZe8mMedIf7HtCt5FuROWo0ZHoJAxuqJLHD6R8PrBbeCKU430LNmPzuSZ-tCQVpBGrCleA/s1600/CIMG1468.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/AVvXsEjaMqHjZs51SFmdgFd3Ef4AtISKDac79YoMenNrHveP1DktotUnTlt8rWmjg-aY6mlZGk56SZe8mMedIf7HtCt5FuROWo0ZHoJAxuqJLHD6R8PrBbeCKU430LNmPzuSZ-tCQVpBGrCleA/s320/CIMG1468.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524001803012257346" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAT_GhaKXFIXuv1xJDZLqZ-IA860ECtZPyNrNBCBdzeXKXi94I4YtYAX7jrfSILOEaow50TJum5YQw-B1_ztrFAZ0ehmXARylgSOfp-56vR_U5D8iy-U8toZRRVPsZFrfpugfn47yAKw/s1600/CIMG1474.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/AVvXsEjAT_GhaKXFIXuv1xJDZLqZ-IA860ECtZPyNrNBCBdzeXKXi94I4YtYAX7jrfSILOEaow50TJum5YQw-B1_ztrFAZ0ehmXARylgSOfp-56vR_U5D8iy-U8toZRRVPsZFrfpugfn47yAKw/s320/CIMG1474.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524001793019850418" /></a>And here is Haven and her Mama cuddling. Because her Mama loves her so.<div><br /> <div>I wish I had a picture of her Daddy on the way to my parent's the night before. It would throw this whole happy scenario off, but it would be funny. Imagine a Toyota Matrix with a Mommy, a Daddy, a Baby, luggage for an overnight stay (if you've got kids you know that even if it's one night, you don't travel light), bikes on the roof, two dogs and a bunny in a cage (we were bunny sitting this weekend). Let's just say that I was like a pig in...poop and Chris was like a person in poop. You can pick which one of us enjoyed that little 35 minute drive into town more. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight we went over to the Taylor's for some super delicious dinner and some Nathan cuddle time. Haven was allowed to hold the baby. This is one of my all time favorite pictures of her. When she's tired she plays with her ear (as well as sucking the two fingers). Lately she's been playing with my ear or Chris's ear when she's tired. And, well, obviously she was a bit sleepy at the Taylor's house and Nathan's ear is as good as any.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fySzJqtqmFp7hR1P7RrrQQyCdPzM8uN9io_kXSrn9WWbH1DuLsMI45KYGKZ3unm6R2wUJteo8RspNL79gpJpUFUKnpeTZrXiZLsTFdJOua5GrJ5jwHkO26A3piV1cVaN7a17l8ivrg/s1600/CIMG1497.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/AVvXsEg9fySzJqtqmFp7hR1P7RrrQQyCdPzM8uN9io_kXSrn9WWbH1DuLsMI45KYGKZ3unm6R2wUJteo8RspNL79gpJpUFUKnpeTZrXiZLsTFdJOua5GrJ5jwHkO26A3piV1cVaN7a17l8ivrg/s320/CIMG1497.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524001790644244274" /></a>She LOVED holding him. She's not much bigger than he is (they wear the same size diapers!), but she could not get close enough to him. I guess she's ready for a little brother. Mommy isn't quite ready though. Maybe if she'd slept through the night before her first birthday I would be more inclined. Who can say?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfuddwUEaPT-uNYbNzcpT0PdulACoJOdLLmFOFwm0_KUeeHIfiC8TERsUij3DBIurv5aLjnZX6ioi4XFtmNb0BXgqlZkXINOqUzLNY1Xldf8usRemM2iAGr4k3l8qclf1kKrLHXFp7cw/s1600/CIMG1496.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/AVvXsEgfuddwUEaPT-uNYbNzcpT0PdulACoJOdLLmFOFwm0_KUeeHIfiC8TERsUij3DBIurv5aLjnZX6ioi4XFtmNb0BXgqlZkXINOqUzLNY1Xldf8usRemM2iAGr4k3l8qclf1kKrLHXFp7cw/s320/CIMG1496.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524001780720121874" /></a>Nathan was rather interested in her too. She didn't seem to mind having her cheeks pinched or her hair pulled. Aren't they adorable?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwzbgDd20FttoqTSQbyk4tOe0m9iGXzQ7FdWJSvrH1cit9rXUmP4g5ijF4r_EX9ZA5mnimQMEMttCQiVH8mn743KSRqs9skdsiu3FEFsqKL09-eo9_RxGxRIu_3O6Gnvl-zA8ZxZbrTQ/s1600/CIMG1489.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/AVvXsEhwzbgDd20FttoqTSQbyk4tOe0m9iGXzQ7FdWJSvrH1cit9rXUmP4g5ijF4r_EX9ZA5mnimQMEMttCQiVH8mn743KSRqs9skdsiu3FEFsqKL09-eo9_RxGxRIu_3O6Gnvl-zA8ZxZbrTQ/s320/CIMG1489.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524001779154124962" /></a><br /></div></div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-31466774761817867032010-09-30T17:52:00.003-06:002010-09-30T18:18:03.383-06:00The Poopy-Rocky Song<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dygGsBd7TcfW9lgZYaPS1ake2oKAUwLcydldcD3v5wY32zRV9YfjJ0DMtPOUseWtXFwR1vSCkeDboQaGjo' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div>Haven started singing the Rocky-Poopy song when we were outside a few days ago. I was picking up dog poop and she was watching me. She loves rocks (or rockies as she calls them)--they figure largely in her life as a source of entertainment. Possibly watching me pick up poop is also a source of amusement for her. Anyway, I was driving to the mailbox and I asked her to sing the song for me. </div><div>She improvised. Some of it I can't understand but I did hear a "Poopy...Sophie...[out]side" in there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Guarantee this song is going to hit the top 40 soon. It's catchy.</div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-47997750094816581662010-09-30T09:20:00.003-06:002010-09-30T09:24:58.079-06:00Bossy Pants<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kCkndPZHLTe0DBJA5sEPKbrotC4LhnQC-5JE-xtv2gXwJX6z02p-Hu0Y9ftPoT-pKV381JrDkCzlV1YxQMpyLNEEZ63yLBm6AG4Sk87-_JsisieQHSDB4g0rziFNCPBRe6oNuLd1Tw/s1600/CIMG1449.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kCkndPZHLTe0DBJA5sEPKbrotC4LhnQC-5JE-xtv2gXwJX6z02p-Hu0Y9ftPoT-pKV381JrDkCzlV1YxQMpyLNEEZ63yLBm6AG4Sk87-_JsisieQHSDB4g0rziFNCPBRe6oNuLd1Tw/s320/CIMG1449.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522727609767431618" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Wearing all of Mommy's bras</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Haven is only 18 months old but she has an ability to get what she wants across. For example, this morning I asked her if she wanted some chocolate milk after breakfast (she never says "no" to that question, by the way, but she has to say "please" either by signing it or saying it). After she performed the requisite requirements for chocolate milk I took her to the fridge. Apparently I was not moving fast enough because she said, "hurry!" She's never said that word before. At least she knows how to use it in a proper situation--even if it is bossy.Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-53061821996285587192010-09-20T14:01:00.005-06:002010-09-23T16:31:22.460-06:00Faith Healers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mycuteanimals.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/baby-squirrel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 333px;" src="http://www.mycuteanimals.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/baby-squirrel.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div>If you're looking for a controversial exchange on Faith Healing you haven't come to the right place....This is about Two Girls and a Squirrel. </div>This weekend my friend Faerl and I went on a bike ride. We both love animals--Faerl especially loves woodland creatures (bunnies, skunks, squirrels, gnomes). Well, we were cruising along at a very fast clip when a small squirrel ran out in front of us. I managed to swerve and avoid him, but he was in between our bikes and there was no way for Fae to avoid hitting him. She felt awful. I wasn't sure what to do. There was blood on the pavement and his little tail started to collapse and his eyes to close. <div><br /></div><div>I kept encouraging Little Squirrel to die because the only thing worse than something dying is watching it suffer. It looked like he was on his way out; he even had a sound like a death rattle going on. It was pitiful. Eventually it became apparent that he was going to linger. We didn't know what to do. I considered picking him up and throwing him in the river so he'd drown quickly. I looked around for a man walking or riding who could send Little Squirrel to Happy Squirrel Land quickly. There was nothing to finish him off and I really, really, really didn't want to be the one who killed him. I decided to pick up Little Squirrel. Expecting to see guts and more blood underneath him, I was surprised that he looked rather well for something that had just got run over. And, his little mouth was so cute with the two long front teeth. I will admit to glancing around wondering if there was anyway to carry him back home. But, the pack on my bike isn't big enough. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I laid him down on the side of the road. The rattling became more obvious. I told Faerl we should pray for him. We did. His little eyes kept closing and he kept looking like he was on his way out. We spent a couple minutes asking (read: begging) God to touch our little squirrel. I noticed my bike was still in the middle of the bike path and I needed to move it. As I did, Little Squirrel lifted his head up to watch me. I think all three of us were incredibly excited. We kept stroking his little body and praying. And then, all of a sudden....he jumped up and took off like nothing had ever happened to him. Do I think we are Faith Healers? Umm, probably not. But, I do think that God touched him. Because it really mattered to us. Believe what you will...however, I'm believing that Little Squirrel should be named Lazarus. </div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-40146825400097115912010-09-14T19:21:00.002-06:002010-09-14T20:09:03.491-06:00Like A RatI went over to my parent's house for the first time in about 3 weeks. Lugging baby and two dogs because my mom hadn't seen any of us for a long time in between their summer trips and ours.<div><br /></div><div>During the summer the wind had blown over their backyard fence. Insurance adjusters have never been accused of acting speedily and so in between them and finding a contractor to put up a new fence it still hasn't been completely finished. However, since I hadn't been over in awhile I assumed that by now (months and months later) it would be OK to bring the dogs.</div><div><br /></div><div>The neighbor that they usually share a fence with (when it is intact) is really strange. He hides behind shrubbery and trees that are about an 1/8 of an inch wide (and he's not that small) in order to avoid talking to people. My parent's share a pine tree with a few guinea fowl and every year their babies get eaten by skunks, raccoons, you name it--they aren't the best at defending themselves or their young. Stuart (the neighbor) shot a skunk last time we spent the night at my parents. I'm going somewhere with this--just keep reading.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, here we are. Me and my 3 girls. Two of which I can find. The third--that would be Sophie--is nowhere to be seen. My mom and I call and call for her and she won't come. About 15 minutes later, my mom is getting pretty worked up and worried that we can't find her. And, I was trying to work up something that would resemble sadness at the loss of Sophie; but well, my lunch was on the table and I was hungry. My mom jumped in her car to go looking for her. I ate my lunch convinced she'd come back and if she didn't I hoped a nice person got her. I did have the heart to hope she didn't get hit by a car. And, if she did, that she'd die quickly (the thought of extensive vet bills never, ever entered my head. Never).</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom came back without Sophie so we decided to investigate Stuart's back yard further since it was the only logical place she could be. Fortunately, he didn't appear to be home. We walked all around his yard, calling, peering into bushes. Then we heard Soph's unmistakable bay. Like she's howling at the moon. Except that we'd been talking so we couldn't quite tell where it came from except that she was close. I kept calling for her hoping she'd re-bay but she didn't until we were about to go explore somewhere else and I heard her whine. From Stuart's back porch. We hadn't looked there. We'd glanced in, but it seemed like an invasion of privacy to actually step foot in there. </div><div><br /></div><div>We looked all around his back porch. Obviously she was stuck somewhere or she'd have come. I had a fleeting thought that Stu may be holding her hostage just to be mean (I mean, if you're that strange then people are going to assume that you hold beloved pets that people have been looking for for ransom--boy, would he have been disappointed--he may have made enough off of Sophie to get a cup of coffee).</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I saw an animal trap. It was a catch and release kind and there were empty cans of cat food in it. Soph LOVES cat food. She was shivering like a leaf and barely fit in there, but somehow she'd managed. I was laughing so hard I couldn't figure out how to spring her from the slammer. My mom was upset and kept saying, "Poor Sophie." Poor Sophie indeed. It was her stupid stomach that got her caged like a wild, dumb animal. Trapped like a rat. We set her free but didn't reset the trap. Which would be very confusing, I imagine considering Soph ate all his bait.</div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-78443139701114905782010-09-14T09:57:00.002-06:002010-09-14T10:08:52.415-06:00Finally...completed 100 miles in a Century. It only took 4 times. And, nine hours. Kind of embarrassing when Chris does it in half the time I do. Here's a pic of Maren, Fae, and myself at mile 67. Heidi took the picture so she's missing, but she "won" the 25 mile ride--she's preggo so that's pretty impressive. You can't really win on these rides because they aren't races, but if you could, then she would have. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglcBesn9gzlj-XyAYrOdo-XRJA3C4EX_bMTA6425bxvF0X9MYCGnRknsD7RFziI3wDWCanHjhApTmbhzHaHHrJy4InMhfFoEzYq4ySdL_r1Cp72uaDOuhpG809kVIG0A4gXeCASKQ0SQ/s1600/IMG_0587.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/AVvXsEglcBesn9gzlj-XyAYrOdo-XRJA3C4EX_bMTA6425bxvF0X9MYCGnRknsD7RFziI3wDWCanHjhApTmbhzHaHHrJy4InMhfFoEzYq4ySdL_r1Cp72uaDOuhpG809kVIG0A4gXeCASKQ0SQ/s320/IMG_0587.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516800062372546546" /></a>And, here I am at the finish. Check out my hair. I was so exhausted from climbing Bobcat pass that when I got to go downhill towards the finish line I don't think I put the brakes on once. Thus the hair.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7plgDDbQzWlZAgP3RXxndA2liEFCZ4nrY-kGF0bLhAaIFTC_nXEgnfziDi5Vcs30TKEDFFEVwLt_sXm_KoaqNeiTMvmSCTWnRPGxX1RMvP9tDFHR51ecEY128bG6dyQ-QklVh-DsiA/s1600/IMG_0590.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/AVvXsEhv7plgDDbQzWlZAgP3RXxndA2liEFCZ4nrY-kGF0bLhAaIFTC_nXEgnfziDi5Vcs30TKEDFFEVwLt_sXm_KoaqNeiTMvmSCTWnRPGxX1RMvP9tDFHR51ecEY128bG6dyQ-QklVh-DsiA/s320/IMG_0590.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516800050813878146" /></a>It was such a great weekend. I finished my summer goal of riding 100 miles in a day. And, of getting one girl's weekend before the year ends.<div><br /></div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-92120742185804035042010-09-06T14:48:00.003-06:002010-09-06T14:59:54.988-06:00How We Labored This Weekendin Kingston, NM. Who knew Southern New Mexico was green! And beautiful. It reminded me of a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SouthWest</span> version of the Texas Hill Country. Here's Haven the Hiker who insisted on trekking with a big stick (I didn't teach her that).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi43zVNyBiwTvV-2ndz_x9lVDkNDeKfUFAbpkn1AKConod-a72Dzb72GpBlUfT6I_DOb9P9QFV0sPjdo_MzA-jPOIXefI808L-4BssM19fUvyZI-UuIRVgwBhlsb7tdONebbE1FNOTfPQ/s1600/CIMG1386.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi43zVNyBiwTvV-2ndz_x9lVDkNDeKfUFAbpkn1AKConod-a72Dzb72GpBlUfT6I_DOb9P9QFV0sPjdo_MzA-jPOIXefI808L-4BssM19fUvyZI-UuIRVgwBhlsb7tdONebbE1FNOTfPQ/s320/CIMG1386.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513905723426588050" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLO9xt5OjQfuMCORxSRN2ZpoFPPuOd1_B98pTCV2Dgl0v-BaYRks_tZcYlRyJn_r2Gre5FohyphenhyphenYgMGG1zfqq4E79RHUcj_ltDnuwbYNKUof9Jg6oAI0cJ3hymE1i-k10wTKdIlblYU74Q/s1600/CIMG1372.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/AVvXsEhLO9xt5OjQfuMCORxSRN2ZpoFPPuOd1_B98pTCV2Dgl0v-BaYRks_tZcYlRyJn_r2Gre5FohyphenhyphenYgMGG1zfqq4E79RHUcj_ltDnuwbYNKUof9Jg6oAI0cJ3hymE1i-k10wTKdIlblYU74Q/s320/CIMG1372.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513905482585032482" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chillin</span>' with Dad on the swing. I think a motorcycle drove up. She's fascinated with motorcycles but scared to death of how they sound.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvD4Uf7g8Y8fbAfqzFlnLkbuTC0FiSm02vTeDaGiEsbtsdtvq0F4pFq23LjHuMnk2GKL3akoBVEv8kXODZih1NrmfLSCJM7nAIhhIXaSlyKVMlBCX7pl4S5Jqbgouwwn2BZA1J_FyiQ/s1600/CIMG1369.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvD4Uf7g8Y8fbAfqzFlnLkbuTC0FiSm02vTeDaGiEsbtsdtvq0F4pFq23LjHuMnk2GKL3akoBVEv8kXODZih1NrmfLSCJM7nAIhhIXaSlyKVMlBCX7pl4S5Jqbgouwwn2BZA1J_FyiQ/s320/CIMG1369.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513905472344035730" /></a>We stayed at the Black Range Lodge in the ghost town of Kingston. It was lush. With fruit trees and raspberry bushes and friendly people. I actually had to utilize the friendly people...I went on a bike ride our first evening there and on my way back noticed my back tire was flat. To make a long story short, my tire ended up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">unrideable</span>. I ditched my bike in the weeds and started the 4 mile walk (uphill) back to the Lodge. Fortunately a man and woman stopped and they offered to give me a ride back. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Yay</span>! for friendly people.<div><br /></div><div>Yesterday we went to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Hillsboro</span> music festival and heard some great, great bluegrass. There was some awfully good pickin' going on. I'm not very country, even if I grew up in the sticks, but when I'm in the country I love that kind of music. It's difficult to sit still while listening to it. </div><div><br /></div><div>The music was a fitting end to a restful weekend. Haven had a blast feeding the chickens at the lodge and eating fruit off the trees. And, being spoiled by all the other lodgers because she was the only baby there.</div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-28029554850982184052010-08-31T10:15:00.003-06:002010-08-31T10:27:07.589-06:00Fun & Games Until Someone Gets Hurt...<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyE2Vr48iTgv6rGjvbi12rOQc9hipWiv4ooz1GMRjvXyvhN5MIyIgmXFRRXpqPH3UnMnXJd_O7DR5yvQaBq' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div>She didn't break my nose at the end, it just felt like it.</div>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43572661908274061.post-86287945304164866282010-08-25T13:14:00.002-06:002010-08-25T14:13:17.854-06:00How Not to DisciplineHere's a video of Haven pulling out all the stops right before nap time. It is also a very good example of my finely honed disciplinary skills. I have difficulty not laughing when Haven is naughty. We're working on it. The other day I discovered that I can cover my smile with my hand, close my eyes, and pretend like I am crying. I wonder if James Dobson teaches that particular skill set? If he doesn't, he should.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzxKcepMA59lgsaQL3NyoDqhwdIjw4ARoRt8FKttO_S8dBWNbmhk3puCsAmAF2UIjNyWOi5B44hU3FRcEg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Chris and Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03358319133517965649noreply@blogger.com0