tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86395482128236860502024-03-05T05:15:56.684-06:00Notes of a NewlywedKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-5811018369774911122011-01-05T10:45:00.005-06:002011-01-05T11:16:01.194-06:00Auld Lang Syne<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Every year, <span style="color:#3333ff;">New Years resolutions</span> intrigue me. People make the <span style="color:#ffcc66;">strangest </span>resolutions sometimes, and yet very rarely are they ever fulfilled. I have half-heartedly made resolutions in the past, but I never expected to <span style="color:#ff6666;">stick</span> to them for an entire year. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />That's why, this year, I didn't make resolutions. I made <span style="color:#009900;">goals</span>. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#009900;"><br />Goals for 2011</span>.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />It just sounds catchier.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Not only do I have goals instead of resolutions, but I am <span style="color:#cc66cc;">posting</span> them on here so that <span style="color:#990000;">you</span>, my readers, can hold me to them. If I finish this year without meeting these goals, you can point a finger in my face and laugh at me. I <span style="color:#000099;">give</span> you that right. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />So here they are <span style="color:#996633;">in all their glory</span>.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#009900;"><br /><br />Goals for 2011</span>:</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff9900;"><br />1) Run a half-marathon</span> - this will help me lose weight, get in shape, and earn bragging rights!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#3333ff;"><br />2) Create and Stick to a cleaning plan for the house</span> - Mondays are dusting days. Tuesdays are</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">bathroom days...</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#33cc00;"><br />3) Organize my house</span> - I want to have a place for everything, and know that everything is </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">actually in its place.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><br />4) Make prayer a more integral part of my day</span> - I want to learn how to pray without ceasing.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#993399;"><br />5) Finish a knitting project</span> - I know the basic stitches and have started several projects, but this</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">is the year I finish one.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff6666;"><br />6) Pass a PT test</span> - G.I. Joe has already agreed to test me when I am ready. I'm talking Army</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">regulation push-ups and everything...</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />Of course I hope to accomplish <span style="color:#999900;">much</span> more in 2011, but these are the things that I am sick of wanting. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />So <span style="color:#009900;">good luck</span> to you with your <span style="color:#ffcc00;">resolutions</span>/<span style="color:#33cc00;">goals</span>/<span style="color:#000099;">whatever-you-decided-to-call-them-so-you-might-actually-meet-them</span>! Or if you are smart enough to say "<span style="color:#cc0000;">psh</span>" to New Years resolutions, maybe one day I can enter your <span style="color:#33ccff;">world </span>of contentment.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Until then, I will keep you <span style="color:#ff9966;">posted</span> on my goal-meeting.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />And <span style="color:#993399;">Happy New Year</span>!</span></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-65451361396426544512010-12-19T15:14:00.004-06:002010-12-19T15:19:23.584-06:00As If You Haven't Heard Enough Christmas Music<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Being a musician, I love just about any kind of <span style="color:#000099;">music</span>. However, if I could only listen to one musician for the rest of my life, I would have a <span style="color:#ffcc00;">very</span> hard time choosing between <span style="color:#cc33cc;">Alison <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Krauss</span></span> and <span style="color:#33cc00;">Yo Yo Ma</span>.<br /><br />So...guess what I found on YouTube the other day? <span style="color:#666666;">Oh yes</span>. Alison <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Krauss</span> singing a beautiful and <span style="color:#666600;">not-so-familiar</span> Christmas song to Yo Yo Ma's gorgeous <span style="color:#993300;">cello</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">accompaniment</span>.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6666;">It's like musical cheesecake</span>.<br /><br />Not only is the musicianship <span style="color:#66cccc;">brilliant</span>, but the lyrics of the song portray the birth of Jesus so beautifully.<br /></span><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iX7pHu88hm8?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="425" height="344"></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">How beautiful that a God gave up <span style="color:#000099;">perfection</span> to come down to our<span style="color:#ff6600;"> crazy</span>, <span style="color:#006600;">messy</span>, and <span style="color:#3333ff;">sad</span> world just to show us that He loves us.</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I love Christmas time. It is just so exciting. I hope you all have a wonderful <span style="color:#cc0000;">Christmas</span>!</span></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-65909133756370454632010-11-18T22:55:00.010-06:002010-11-18T23:20:26.058-06:00Music City<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541121877364619890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yMcyF-Z1eqwO8_uI0ZJFgl95laR1oQbt00WEb07VLX9ubXkVVASWXuLd96JQNYVj-a8bcEyqTBmrY_9L09xmcubh6bDWexGzyvw12dVgfp54LRiUpb5vS_tJoplbdaYgy2W_gn1X-2M/s320/119.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">So I have been a <span style="color:#cc0000;">very bad</span> blogger. It has taken me about two months to put this post up, but in my defense...yeah I have no excuse. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">So about two months ago, my friend and I went to <span style="color:#33cc00;">Nashville </span>for the day. We had a lot of fun visiting the little shops and walking around downtown. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I got a picture with <span style="color:#3333ff;">Elvis. </span><span style="color:#666666;">I don't know, but I</span> think he may have been an <span style="color:#6600cc;">impersonator</span><span style="color:#000000;">...</span></span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541123143958899650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCYi2YsTo_HAw6A6ARr5S8s5cdMagRVlWOpv-Lpckeg8F2ZM6rRhCzFsa4yraHZW5cuBDK1EpdW_m6qDJMMDM0_s7AMIMh6qXLlT3swbwTEP4JHbQYpdiHq6HVvdju1VTa64ZAAbVvZqs/s320/121.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">We got pictures with the giant boot, but my <span style="color:#ffcc00;">favorite </span>boot picture was the one with my friend and the <span style="color:#33ccff;">random man</span> who asked to be in the picture. Him and his friend thought it was so funny that he asked, we just couldn't tell him no.</span> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541122170195115410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 263px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHrogbZv2OBggHTjnkoocfpetdzZWyvmN3uvIx-gTnTAvQamwtQFEQDCRpaXcvyEHyS-Nfeq0KtcdcyOt2wFqKDKrJHJgJRVv_QmI9x0fkZhsZIj6Xp4I-3ZVXmVoE8AqjR3r32-IbPKU/s320/125.JPG" border="0" /> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">This was one of my <span style="color:#006600;">favorite</span> parts of the day. We went to a little <span style="color:#ff99ff;">ice cream parlor</span> (which had really good iced coffee drinks I might add). The tip jar had this sign on it:</span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541122120695453778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbILeJKwwGHMZVyrrdbkZ-Ock4qQqTO-tktmDauAglfK-68NanVU2B3cXQu5UNkURjfw1YGpTw6SIQEZA44QcAIW27fvAKt2QMRUU-nVIR5bhPypqF_f74cp2SPzcFNd9_YiCk84p8Mk/s320/129.JPG" border="0" /> </span><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Who can resist giving to a cause like that?</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541122070425837298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUyvITX6Nuabj7778ouq0_ioW1QaQCLOTTRlK1Uja1VqTXAoqMzHg5MW5oU0W_TwJQBjMcojNJoF7RW8pZaXRrkA7O5XOnEpuNvYcSanb8Gvr67ubTLnPXiSKG2vOLJDxl-oz6TzrhzWU/s320/130.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:130%;"> Right across the river was the <span style="color:#000099;">Titans</span> stadium. So cool! Too bad I'm a <span style="color:#ffff33;">Steelers</span> fan...</span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Since we splurged on <span style="color:#cc9933;">iced coffee</span>, we went ahead and splurged on <span style="color:#ff6666;">cupcakes</span>, too. But not just any cupcakes. <span style="color:#33cc00;">Gigi's Cupcakes</span>. Mmmm. I got the Tiramasu and my friend got the Chocolate Attack (that's not the real name, but it should have been). If you are ever in Nashville, I would encourage a pit stop at <span style="color:#33cc00;">Gigi's Cupcakes</span>. Just sayin'. <br /><br /></span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541122018196059234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMgAgq5teyLzHoAb2e2du6ymtcQl-SDZ0vVn9g_b2a-R5HbUPCMLI-_vb6mJyTk7BISkcPmLrBcsKX-RDScmQVmcJXaLyd2r_VF3RZffuAGlIsbpcI4eggR0BIeNzFKhQ_GRK5_7GIAuw/s320/137.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541121960853988082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIZIUab8piRwrTCBW2GMjm6EK-VjlEbZ-c4SXR2fGrwokI_tbw7bJ2MjnlCWwCA8Oy0dJaFdgr-7F8cWZTm5hSlC6-kCKLQZm1EeK5fxagSzazOmM44jrcqUYFDzuVV7cNiexHwOtnPw/s320/139.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Final Verdict: Nashville is a cool place to visit. But, I better not do it too often or I will have to be there buying a new wardrobe...<span style="color:#339999;">in a larger size</span>. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </p>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-52179956813225268092010-11-06T22:29:00.006-05:002010-11-06T23:16:07.337-05:00Trick Or Treat, Trick Or Treat, Give Me A Sucker To Eat!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Q7gExFoYGCzmirYZWbt3iFRWFLzrHqVBYd0yqITnJ3bJPuP61wqCaerYJI6DTpESvv7FT-2JO5PMAVTlOT-BClCMVSKoM8wSo7jL7FMRoEFJMOMOWSJ8LT0oNcBEP_e4tSPCHFComO8/s1600/emily,+me,+and+the+babies.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536647855955841394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Q7gExFoYGCzmirYZWbt3iFRWFLzrHqVBYd0yqITnJ3bJPuP61wqCaerYJI6DTpESvv7FT-2JO5PMAVTlOT-BClCMVSKoM8wSo7jL7FMRoEFJMOMOWSJ8LT0oNcBEP_e4tSPCHFComO8/s320/emily,+me,+and+the+babies.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> <br />I spent <span style="color:#ff9900;">Halloween</span> with my sister, her husband, and my two favorite kids. I have named my little neice. She will be <span style="color:#ff6666;">Princess</span>. This is her name because she was a princess ballerina for Halloween. She was so pretty! </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />My sister and I took her two days before Halloween to get her <span style="color:#33cc00;">little ears pierced</span>. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Prettiest. Baby. Ever. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />For Halloween, my sister dressed up as <span style="color:#ff6666;">Sleeping Beauty</span>, and my brother-in-law was <span style="color:#000099;">Prince Philip</span>. They were adorable. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />My brother-in-law loved his costume, except for he forgot his shoes had felt bottoms until he ran full-speed into the <span style="color:#339999;">linoleum-floor</span> kitchen...</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Magellan was an <span style="color:#6633ff;">alien robot</span>. He loved being in his costume as much as his daddy did. He didn't fit in the carseat because he was so <span style="color:#cc33cc;">puffy</span>, but he cried when we had to take it off of him! </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />We took him trick-or-treating around our old neighborhood after we scared some friends of ours. Magellan doesn't quite understand the <span style="color:#ffcc00;">goldmine</span> of sweet treats that were at his disposal. The only candy he has discovered so far are <span style="color:#3333ff;">suckers.</span> And he loves suckers. At one house, he actually <span style="color:#990000;">pushed</span> the man's hand full of Snickers bars away and grabbed a sucker out of the man's bowl. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />That's my nephew. He knows what he wants. <br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRL6DvCkqhuTRU9viifD3gya6dWinaJMMjutK5orPVl5H1QmHpxKwpfuxMYk_X1X0IPbRnPtx_l-spvVWwXtq9iTu7PDHvtWEHXczRI4DXO9bYVOwNWOH53bahmnuxs7lj9MXled4usEI/s1600/036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536647689813288130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRL6DvCkqhuTRU9viifD3gya6dWinaJMMjutK5orPVl5H1QmHpxKwpfuxMYk_X1X0IPbRnPtx_l-spvVWwXtq9iTu7PDHvtWEHXczRI4DXO9bYVOwNWOH53bahmnuxs7lj9MXled4usEI/s320/036.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I dressed up as Medusa, the <span style="color:#33cc00;">greek goddess</span>. Not because of Percy Jackson or Clash of the Titans, though. G.I. Joe always calls me Medusa because of my crazy, curly, wild hair (especially when I first wake up...<span style="color:#999900;">frightening</span>! I was just about punched in the face by my brother-in-law in the middle of the night because of it!). </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Here is my sister and I just before the Halloween party at our church.<br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536647496806258194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NCxkigD3xc2euvVGd3eA37tCcpjKV7YfL14kzpEk0_Gc5LPneMEhx1tD54r7NUkEPuwWrZCSetcUXhv_AihbSv3uHAvT0SxPhDHMMIb6iNAIzEAZfvO4gIUBvJuVkvR_8L79JdRCWtg/s320/046.JPG" border="0" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />My sister teased up my hair and fixed <span style="color:#999900;">rubber snakes</span> all in it. Then, a friend of ours did my make-up. She did an amazing job. I especially loved my fake eyelashes with <span style="color:#ffcc00;">golden</span> tips. </span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536647572185021986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6o2J2FYn9qnjfi4QLN4eGjZ8MdkEGyVXHqqADPXz34xvBo4qEg2a76Cjxyeqlzn5qv21X8JNR-FNTiIFMmtn0TFAmZBrxxZa2BzHyvTFZrOADwBOM7nFPIUXcQyV-epR_yFcdznlctiQ/s320/055.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Creepy!<br /></span></p>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-89677633719575129942010-09-27T15:46:00.007-05:002010-09-27T22:16:18.397-05:00The Hunt<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"> I have not written in a long, long time. I have many reasons why, but I won't bore with my <span style="color:#33cc00;">excuses</span>. But today, I am so excited about <span style="color:#ff9900;">my finds</span> I just had to get back on here! </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">This morning, two friends of mine and I decided to go <span style="color:#999900;">antique shopping</span>. I wanted a wooden bench for my living room, and they just wanted to look. Well, we visited four stores, and they were <span style="color:#663366;">all closed</span>. Bum-mer. </span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">But, I was on my way home when I remembered the indoor flea market near my house. I was still in "hunt" mode. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">After putting down the <span style="color:#ffcc00;">yellow, glass, Liberty Bell cookie jar</span> and the <span style="color:#cc6600;">mini moonshine jug salt and pepper shakers</span>, I found a stepladder for $5! Something that I have been needing desperately.</span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521796255507873474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqoC2HlW5XI_B3hj3H-OiH0cZHRpRFdSte28zqOvSXS52tBpW7qvjU4Z3WEh_XBlPKYS5nfcZ46k8UGsdrq2Gq_0G_179vSX-JlI2sm_-7dP8obaVUZrl05qaS9UuHLaekkv4mac6Jw4/s320/010.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">And it is <span style="color:#3333ff;">just so cute</span>!</span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Background info: I am trying to pull a <span style="color:#cc0000;">dark red</span> into my living room and thought a red trunk under my window would look really cool. Guess what I found next? <span style="color:#ffcc33;">Bingo!</span> A red trunk.</span> </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521796388240891378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyXtbYORqK5oAYFuT_Lbt-fipiP50S9SALKhWPTn7dho9eI_a1MEw50M6Wv25Wty5gW4EMxuqNuIFc12E1LC16dn02d82v4FWNuI_i8kl1dmPVsY6k7zJdHHJisiqdxmjMQdlSB8UVSaw/s320/001.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">It definitely needs some work. But the best part, is that I only paid <span style="color:#ffcc00;">$10</span> for it!</span></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521796320939536642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51LAtGQkQou1xQjCAf7wlrUb6t2KdH4mVF7BYLq1CU4zTmokeQa75zSxxRYZ1ruGpTnmwjI6Df0Cr7cM-6NMUDqbcl5r9bp4CtQ5f6f4wzpffqUuFn8dvvprDguHZXUti_RG7MCULwo0/s320/005.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Maybe I am more in love with the<span style="color:#009900;"> hunt</span> than the <span style="color:#ff9900;">stuff</span>, but I am excited about the stuff, too!</span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Now I have to get to fixing them up...</span></p>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-71207720131942700372010-08-29T14:49:00.005-05:002010-08-29T15:15:06.923-05:00Peace and Fire Shows<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Sometimes God does <span style="color:#ffcc00;">funny</span> things. He really threw something at me the other day while I was driving. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I was listening to the radio, and the song "Light Up the Sky" by The Afters came on. One of the band members explained that the song was talking about how God sent a <span style="color:#ff0000;">pillar of fire</span> to the Israelites while they were wandering in the desert. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Do you ever just picture yourself in someone else's shoes, and it kind of just shocks you?<br />Maybe I just have a <span style="color:#33ccff;">really good imagination</span>, but I was imagining I was an Israelite during that time. I imagined myself exhausted because I was walking through the desert (one of the few things I haven ever had the desire to do). I imagined it starting to get dark and <span style="color:#009900;">feeling worried</span> because the pillar of clouds that was guiding us would no longer be visible. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I can hear myself going, "God...um, should we stop now? Because we <span style="color:#cc66cc;">can't really see</span> where you want us to go...and I'm kinda tired anyway...the desert is really big, in case you haven't noticed...some of the kids could wander off..."</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />And then, out of nowhere, this giant pillar of fire comes down. I picture it kinda like "The Prince of Egypt" portrays it. Random thought, I wonder if it was hot? I've heard the desert gets cold at night. I wonder if it provided some heat, or if it was so hot they just had to stay away from it. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />But more than just the cool image in my head, it made my realize something. That, and this is the point of the song. It made me realize that God is always there. And <span style="color:#999900;">not only</span> is He always there, He will <span style="color:#ff9900;">ALWAYS </span>show you where He wants you to go. He <span style="color:#6600cc;">doesn't </span>leave us high and dry! Even when my circumstances feel like He has. No, He has some awesome cool plan, and <span style="color:#ff6666;">He will show it</span> to us (even if it is just one step at a time). We don't have to play hide-and-seek in the dark, He will shoot down some cool fire show, send someone to encourage us down a particular path, or just give us a peace. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />My fire pillar has been an incredible <span style="color:#3366ff;">peace</span>, in spite of crazy circumstances. That doesn't mean that pain from the circumstances isn't still there, because it is. But, I <span style="color:#cc6600;">don't have to be afraid</span>. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Paul said, "For you have <span style="color:#33cc00;">not</span> received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you <span style="color:#ff9900;">have received a spirit of adoption</span> as sons by which we cry out, 'Abba! Father!'" (Romans 8:15 NASB). </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />This song inspired all of that. I hope you like it too!</span> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><object height="295" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/h3Q-R4esGf4?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/h3Q-R4esGf4?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-59699872764969941312010-08-28T18:42:00.006-05:002010-08-28T18:57:28.490-05:00Review and Opinion<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Since we got married, I have wanted a picture of my handsome G.I. Joe in his <span style="color:#33cc00;">Army uniform</span>. I couldn't talk him into the dress blues, but I <span style="color:#3366ff;">did</span> manage to get a picture while he was already dressed.</span> </div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510612253979258354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB6fHZ3pFAvIB3fcvi05lS_g8oL7rbUzuu7k03uP7iT8xmDtWvgNm84F99TMxbpozf6T-wPzx2Q-LCJHT_Lr_qFiWt_ii5V8xyrLcWJUIZ8y9yzIHnHoMJgA3KLuWn7W953f3WKSvo0-8/s320/021.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Unfortunately, not much has been happening around here. I just read the <span style="color:#cc0000;">Inkheart</span> series. When I get into a book series, I am like a kid who just got twirled around the living room. I keep coming back for more until I drive someone <span style="color:#cc66cc;">crazy</span> - like my husband who wants supper and clean laundry. Oops.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Finally, I finished it. The whole series. It took about a week and a half. And yes, they were written for young adults. <em>(I like children's books - what of it?)</em> The first book in the series was great. I loved it. It had a great plot, the characters were a lot of fun, and I was on the edge of my seat <span style="color:#999900;">the entire time</span>.</span> </p><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510612466653327698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7a6HbfkJmSlNKOwfEq513URLLpzmX6SLhW5tZQIi0y9DUW_dYctBM282Z1fPxOlty3-HXRmOjAYXgoQP3AB80uPeUJvjvyp7gcJfVheCS8t1qw_iJCkyN7VN2Vhe2ISeNwp6VDXGWNM/s320/inkheart.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">The second and third books were <span style="color:#cc9933;">disappointing</span>. First of all, it seemed that the first book ended just fine without them. Also, the second and third books were filled with curse words, sketchy situations, and things I wouldn't want my young adult reading <span style="color:#ff9966;">if I had a young adult</span>. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">One more thing, the movie just about killed the book for me. It made the characters beyond cheesy and ruined the story. <span style="color:#ffcc00;"><em>In my opinion</em></span>.</span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">So that has been my last few weeks. There have been no posts because there has not been <span style="color:#33cc00;">anything</span> to post about. However, I do have a couple projects up my sleeve so <span style="color:#3366ff;">hopefully</span> those will be up soon. And I haven't forgotten about my love story series. The next installment will be soon as well!</span></p>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-50178434141399565032010-08-16T09:15:00.014-05:002010-08-16T10:13:59.897-05:00Games, Dates, and Poison Ivy<div align="center"> <span style="font-size:130%;">G.I. Joe has had some time off work, so I have been spending time with him instead of writing on here. Maybe that makes me a bad blogger, but I just can't give up any time I have with him. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#000066;">Even to do something as fun as blog!</span></span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">G.I. Joe and I love to just hang out together. Usually, we do free at-home stuff though. We love to play games like <span style="color:#cc0000;">Scrabble</span> </span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506023366702187218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJYriwSrpyGfDwxSozmQZ-xipkaQuPko4I3cC7giywAmwNrjOWVt6Ai7Uk11dZauH82BEonBNH7cXBU74b3Umy5YXg0LEg6zF_nfCv5MU7JxJRV5wB9ncAPzL2OvSHaMN5Th9FuD3u9H4/s320/002.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">(we used <span style="color:#ff6600;">every single letter</span> in this game...and were really proud of it),</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#009900;">Upwords</span>, <span style="color:#3366ff;">ERS</span> (a card game), <span style="color:#ffcc00;">Dutch Blitz</span> (the best card game ever invented), and now <span style="color:#ff0000;">Uno</span>. </span></p><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">We just added Uno over the weekend. We bought the <span style="color:#000099;">Toy Story</span> version. There is even a "Claw" card which, when played, the opponent has to lay down a card with a small <span style="color:#33cc00;">alien</span> in the corner. We love it.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Another thing we do in our spare time is explore. One day we walked all in the woods behind our house (ended up in the apartment complex half a mile up the road). We love to visit old army forts and parks. <span style="color:#ffcc00;">Swinging</span> is my favorite.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">It is kind of rare for us to go out on a "date" date, but Saturday night we did. And we had so much fun.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">We went to O'Charley's. As rarely as we go out to eat, this is our <span style="color:#006600;">restaurant of choice</span>. Their <span style="color:#cc33cc;">rolls</span> are just perfect and they have <span style="color:#ff9900;">half-price appetizers</span> from 2-7pm and 9-10pm. We usually get just appetizers. SOooo yummy. I wanted to take a picture, but all the food was gone before I remembered. <span style="color:#339999;">Ooops</span>. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Then we went <span style="color:#339999;"><span style="color:#ff9966;">bow</span></span><span style="color:#ff9966;">ling</span>. We have only lived here for a few months, so we are still learning where things are. Saturday night we found the bowling alley. And it is adorable. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506023520522045058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 247px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKJhoR0lgDcq2xNMJxLnEFkRmA3xHTdESRRh9YKsrLSuqul_vtPvrjQcecXw6EMkvmOHe9tmEebODDVpd4nwT6ErdRFKEsnoKlsRebIjthuysdVOuFSTJnHvh065C0J9Fmc53AVrBrWc/s320/007.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">It is in a barn. They call it "<span style="color:#ff0000;">The Bowling Barn</span>". How cute is that? And only in the south do you go "bowlin".</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506023471252545394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9HYrimx7VouUg1w0V6NWG6Zf9InyYJizWZofI_HMorcSoxvUi6F15AfzcGvwnmjJXk-SaojOqW31xuHxQ_DJ5fUtDPfckgoOUbV5vNUF7chQQOhPPPS6QBrFK4mYQVC58oGzub5Dc7OU/s320/005.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">We had a lot of fun. G.I. Joe beat me...<span style="color:#009900;">soundly</span>...both games. In fact, his score was double mine the first game. I never boasted of being a good bowler. Maybe I need to work on my stance... </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506023830008859218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MKNZtrEIUIASchLCaWFr6rkbbEBlwNHuJyPJ9pfiBRQPc1ht-Omr-i1H0hUKRR5d4dFSua9zaFQAXA0r__ofSNes1i3Q-vhRdNeocmhtgB9xQStV9INZHISX7iMDqqiMhxTd-DDX_d0/s320/033.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506023690124878642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWnEDxxb2vzV2wfXpupUrZGNqJQHTaHaHWgVBI6sPhxsl4mnHlUAWTcSSJ77hEfWvnc8E3BxnMC9hspKfQu7q-GtXzTD-O6rH-fC8gcB44J0sZNQJUT8n2dEXfeLoGlsWSq7DKG8Pf7Q/s320/023.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506023895728062930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 202px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWgSw7_dQt6OmhHXzEHuMYtlMSQtXfyNGTWSWzPKEfxPYyCZLzfXA2f1c_Ihv0vc7AJF807VGSGPn9rGdsOpal883pSg7sRW7TP_G_P1mG-_CgNFlHP2FzUEqJtuRC8glSUqHvzDZbuE/s320/035.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I don't know what it is about bowling shoes, but I <span style="color:#990000;">love </span>them. If I could, I would wear them out. I know they're supposed to be ugly, but I have never thought so. Maybe it is just because I associate them with something so <span style="color:#000099;">fun</span>.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506023590994880194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYDlifB7uoSYqlrIyO1UtOrQbYL2XgUDYIvQEmvmgOQG93bgX_hsFDyB4vGipuD1wxdScJC8FE1LBDvbKU166aTMWbx0f0W3mRRU-1lNXjTD_FCLpshyphenhyphenCwNvnZmnO-2sv9r_vyFqzCEg/s320/018.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Then, to top it all off, we went and saw a movie. After a <span style="color:#663300;">hot fudge sundae</span> and <span style="color:#33ff33;">lemonberry slulsh</span> from Sonic. It was a perfect night. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">It may seem simple, but it doesn't take much to entertain the two of us. I guess that's why we get along so well!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />And an update on my <span style="color:#006600;">poison ivy</span>. It definitely got worse before it got better. It spread all over my legs, my arms, my shoulders look like they are just sunburnt, and my neck is <span style="color:#cc33cc;">covered</span>. It is still itching like crazy, but the swelling and the <span style="color:#ff0000;">redness </span>are starting to go down. </span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506023974590380210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiocadSkqayOPgwj3EkalrbHEQYElbg2G2GYJZs9ueMlo3o48fXVa1buAkaXbA__QwNp78O6T53WiHgj2Szgv30smYisZHiNEjvQYTrpMESMYKTxklJfgyRvNT-3BX24hmNfKvsDB1A1Gk/s320/038.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I tried Ivy-Dry, Hydrogen Peroxide, Alcohol, Ivy-Rest, and just plain hot water. <span style="color:#000099;">Honestly</span>, the hot water worked better than anything. The other things were really starting to burn my arms, so I quit using any of them. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">This is one of those times when, just as it starts to get better, I think "I <span style="color:#cc0000;">should have</span> gone to the doctor." Oh well. </span></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-4968744148849762552010-08-11T10:07:00.008-05:002010-08-11T10:28:07.991-05:00"And Take a Glance at the Fancy Ants..."<div align="center"> <span style="font-size:130%;">I am a <span style="color:#3333ff;">huge</span> fan of Louis Armstrong. I always have been. </span><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">G.I. Joe and his mom danced to his song, "It's a Wonderful World" at our wedding. </span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504170815900165010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFgAvxwNKyFqJNZWh7Gx48cP4vblDhMQuKpmypNGeM06yzkxu9-yTXYJ8SHIahsu4mtWCEoVmWhmtTcdVstZVmlX0YQk6v_XaBD4kc0ZFOv00oxjVCoJI6kv7iHW_ij5DBy54_HxTUr4M/s320/IMG_1943.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It was really <span style="color:#ffcc66;">precious</span>.</span><br /></p><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">A couple of weeks ago, G.I. Joe and I were at a store here in town. It is similar to Barnes and Noble, but a <span style="color:#339999;">little less fancy</span>. They sell used books, CD's, movies, and games, as well as new ones. They also rent movies and TV shows. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">We don't have TV so we have had fun renting TV shows. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Anyway, I found a Louis Armstrong CD. I have always wanted a Louis Armstrong CD, but I never actually bought one. Actually, I never found one, but I wasn't looking very hard. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">This particular store had a <span style="color:#00cccc;">three disc album</span> for $3.99!!!</span></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504172940554406722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zxp11N53UbNm5SI8vQiIzXa6luXo2VUkfNalEFqoMiXyfa_VQQGDYft6gO7Bu0bYaDkLOUAVydh4Ni3_DicG-gw6XFqkyplaIYhdaaU4DYBMR8vfoOpwt5v6Dq_BW3Hjb5KmVnpLl_c/s320/002.JPG" border="0" /></p><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I <span style="color:#ff6666;">love</span> good deals.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I have one of the discs in my car and another in the stereo in the house. </span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Cooking to the horn of Louis Armstrong is one of the most fun things ever!</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Because I have been enjoying his <span style="color:#990000;">music </span>so much, I wanted to share him on here. I found this video on YouTube and decided to post this particular song because my nephew is <span style="color:#33cc00;">crazy</span> about "The Jungle Book". </span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>I don't know if he appreciates Louis Armstrong yet, but he is showing quite a bit of musical promise so I'm sure he will.</em> </span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aXwEBp3cKfM&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aXwEBp3cKfM&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I just love watching him <span style="color:#3333ff;">sing</span>! He looks like he is having <span style="color:#ffcc00;">so much fun</span>. And listening to him is <span style="color:#ffcc00;">so much fun</span>!</span></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-87207985720367875312010-08-09T17:44:00.013-05:002010-08-09T19:01:51.478-05:00My House Smells Like Calamine Lotion<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Next to our mailbox is a small flower bed. Earlier in summer, the most beautiful <span style="color:#cc33cc;">irises</span> bloomed there, but lately all that has been blooming in that spot is the <span style="color:#33cc00;">poison ivy.</span> </span></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Last week, I decided I would weed the little flower bed because it was starting to look really ridiculous. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">My mom and my sister have always been <span style="color:#ffcc33;">highly allergic</span> to poison ivy. I never got it that bad. I might get one little spot, but it would usually go away within a couple of days.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">That was my mindset going into this weeding job. Sometimes, I just do <span style="color:#ff9900;">stupid</span> things. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I did wear gloves, but also wore short sleeves and shorts. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503560416882045458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW6q61pUbho4tk-T-RgREtN3F2eiFApySfyTTZlFj4eP9nTzJUUu08P9ulE5EREWs8flbDYLS159U36u6GT6FtRzdh65SmOg-E72CagRS9dQpnbQtMwCqwjc10lgmMHJ00phg_FZGFfmQ/s320/024.JPG" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">My arms are the worst, but it is on my shoulders, my legs, behind my knees, on my neck, ears, and two small patches on my face. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503561739164191538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cemAg6mafIbOEZg17nZvELI-R2l9JW6qW6AQDg4rPCdareUC6mJO4bdqJjBRwoZkrWgHIK1dQonRqSLlpH3dW271iYFmiwq_M-M6wTyi87LjpGsdsn6TnUgMInyw-H2r7dWktMcQ6NI/s320/037.JPG" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Needless to say, I have been pretty <span style="color:#666600;">miserable</span> the last few days. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;">BUT</span> on a <span style="color:#3366ff;">happier</span> note, I have to tell what my wonderful husband did for me last week!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">First of all, since I moved into our house, I have had a hope of one day putting a bakers rack in the kitchen. There is a perfect spot for it, and the counter space in the kitchen is very limited. I didn't want to pay full price for one, I just kept my eyes out for one at Goodwill, consignment stores, yard sales, etc. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">A couple of weeks ago, G.I. Joe and I woke up early on a Saturday morning and checked out yard sales. We were driving through our neighborhood when we noticed one house had the most <span style="color:#cc0000;">beautiful</span> bakers rack sitting outside!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I said, "Turn around! That was a yard sale, and they have a bakers rack!" </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I was already turned around in my seat and jumping up and down. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503560208178683042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 168px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0d1BZoXy_OPSqgB15FGb5WCAOpBtVyhYUJzz8cu65j8iqEX0bOJKIUsB_82vgvPGlTjjgBb_5gbGxNdv2m_9A_PtXkciP4MEEuOecOctx6wRaZkk23ibl218Aq61C_whvoqzHKhOTqw/s320/001.JPG" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">G.I. Joe turned around and we drove back by, but we realized that it wasn't a yard sale. There was stuff sitting outside, but the owners had apparently just set boxes and this bakers rack in the yard to get it out of the house. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We drove by that house <span style="color:#33ccff;">four</span> times trying to figure out why it was outside and to gather up the courage to ask them. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We never did get the courage.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We went home, but I could not forget about it. I called my mom, who is amazing with these types of situations, and she immediately encouraged me to knock on the door and ask, with some cash. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Well, I am a bit of a sissy and wouldn't go by myself. So I tried to talk G.I. Joe into asking, but we never had time to go.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">A couple of days later, he went for a run. He came back only ten minutes later and said, "Quick, put on your shoes. I want to take you for a ride." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">At first, I thought he was just being crazy, but then I remembered the bakers rack.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">He had knocked on the door and asked the man who answered about the bakers rack. Apparently, they had given it to someone else, but that someone else never came to pick it up. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">He said we could have it. For <span style="color:#ffcc00;">FREE</span>!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I was about to flip my lid. We loaded it in the truck and brought it home. I Clorox wiped it down real well and brought it in the house. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503560275007639282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpsW22Ga7B_mDnag8J8Rmf-bf7eOd8JUG-FZ2DYleuxevGA_3N3SwgnmgJvdlUP13Dj1zDhDpt0St5JoxWZ_l8ayiUyO46BzN58EeGeCUQWM9UeEe04dU5ChSoykUUBAhEZa6zXRQ_hYE/s320/002.JPG" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">It fits perfect in the spot I wanted it! I cannot walk into the kitchen now without a happy little sigh and a little stare. I love it. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503560340061122290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70yeKt14Uh1WfvMEWBiYPb2P7aMOcPMJzQzy-4dGmTQlKto2NescmDx0pgccFoBHn6uaFsGALTeJWZP_G1EGj-VcRPc704hyAJlfZCAcP0NrFHQyW84l1cVCLBeU1gdrdApIesJy5ZJY/s320/013.JPG" border="0" /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">G.I. Joe added his own little touch to the top.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">That old saying, "It never hurts to ask," was definitely true for us!</span></div></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-7498569939202036282010-08-04T12:14:00.006-05:002010-08-04T12:37:10.307-05:00A Place<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Four months ago, yesterday, G.I. Joe and I were married. I can't believe it has already been four months! It seems like four weeks. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Ever since I moved here after our wedding, we have been searching for a church. We have visited so many in the area, and liked and disliked different aspects of all of them.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />A few weeks ago, G.I. Joe's commander was telling us about the church he and his wife had been visiting. So we checked it out this past Sunday. I must say we were <em>very</em> impressed. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The church building itself took up <span style="color:#6666cc;">several </span>blocks downtown. We went to the contemporary service and really enjoyed it. The musicians were very talented and sincere. The pastor who spoke was not the senior pastor of the church, but did a very good job. Everyone was so friendly to us. I was so excited to discover in the bulletin there is a ladies Bible study every Wednesday, starting in two weeks, for <em>30 weeks</em>! </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />G.I. Joe and I really enjoyed the service and were VERY excited about all of the different ministries we saw offered. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Then it got better.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Last night, G.I. Joe and I were just chilling at the house talking about his deployment. I asked him, "What happens if my car breaks down while you're gone?" G.I. Joe got sad because he <span style="color:#cc0000;">hates</span> the thought that he can't be right there to take care of me. He told me that we would sign up for Triple A and find some good towing services. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />As we were talking, we saw a car pull up and two people get out. They started walking toward our door. We looked at each other, but neither of us recognized them. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />There was a man and a woman at the door. They introduced themselves and explained they were from the church we had visited! We invited them in, and they proceeded to tell us all about their church and ask us if we had any questions. We had put on the card we filled out that G.I. Joe was in the Army. The woman looked at me and said, "We have all kinds of ministries for military wives, including a class for women to help them cope with deployment." Then the man said, "It seems like everything breaks down when your husband is gone. We have a ministry to help you when your fridge breaks down, the washer stops working, or if your car breaks down on the side of the road." </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I looked at G.I. Joe, and he looked as shocked as I did. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em><br />I cried a little.</em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />It is amazing how God can answer prayers, even little ones like that. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Needless to say, G.I. Joe and I are planning on joining this church. We are so excited. I already have two classes I am going to get involved in, and the children's minister is supposed to contact me soon about getting me in as a volunteer in the children's ministry (something I really enjoy). </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />God works in mysterious ways. Maybe not on our time frame, but He <span style="color:#33cc00;">always</span> has <span style="color:#6600cc;"><span style="color:#6633ff;">perfect timing</span>.</span></span></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-75479871839051576662010-07-31T12:10:00.017-05:002010-08-03T06:36:30.724-05:00Newest Family Member<div align="center"><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I have not written in a while because my <span style="color:#ff6666;">beautiful</span> neice just arrived! She was born on July 22. She is healthy and <span style="color:#6633ff;">so so sweet</span>!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501138745078491074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 231px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixdMyqc_jRtz-mHmJB8uIJ8IgyYTrenQn_b2PjbhsC3pC0VH8qdWgm7esjev2rBlMJWBoAZ8xMxmm_l6d2QFMl2k_sO-2kfSePaEzKRkf57dLKz3kfI-sjT7bQr5cCmJWl3-uzf9X_B04/s320/Conley.jpg" border="0" /><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;">G.I. Joe and I could not make it the day she was born because we had a Batallion Social that evening. Here we are all dressed up:<br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501138922462318610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5eD-mamjuDUijmq4r9ktLiM5zHjWX_095KfS_NNvxwm0CbPr5LE8QFEFwpuK3lE9sj-t0ctQonxHXhTD_GMljI-TmanD7A8Am2lJH565bEdyvrQoRXKq8Y_z7UT7no072XPQtD3J1ruw/s320/Social+better.jpg" border="0" /></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />We were able to leave the next morning and spend the weekend with my parents. My parents had the weekend job of watching Magellan so G.I. Joe and I were able to help out. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">G.I. Joe and Magellan had a lot of fun together. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501138487647130306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqaz-2nCJe2ufdTG4Ty2k5Jzds0Vbb7AqbITP8x0hy1wcMY6qBZsIJKgKNtm_9iUteu__AQc9FUyZZQcOLUkswMwBhJGNNqSk1GfDg48XBwjH92iZJYfOdNlYOZP-Qhf8QSxgTx_lpJc/s320/Rob+Putting+on+Jacks+Shoes.jpg" border="0" />Magellan is learning the sounds that different animals make:</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx4COAVXNEfg0XADEzFcsJrwyIRQXsIAWkZvuk90vby6Wr13khaviFJ7zgYj2kOImRUTgtiMwgMH87XtC7jsQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>The reason he does the "Hut, hut" for the elephant is because "The Jungle Book" is his favorite movie, and the <span style="color:#666666;">elephants</span> are his favorite part. He runs to the TV before the scene even begins, start dancing, and saying "Hut, hut" on beat when the elephants start marching. So because of that movie, he thinks the elephant says "Hut, hut".</em> </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>It's too cute for us to correct.</em></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501138848180287042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzka2kfXD1nOkYKeLOO82lWES-7eVDlIahIW0gxIwVmd25conOiq8BUWBUNE0r739PztDLhqzjgnPT0NRKv4N_7b61KsiDiKF2El37sr650obHYS1qqsX5xWM7_M1st0E-eSwiF1ueoo/s320/Emily+and+Jack+Walking.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">On Sunday, G.I. Joe had to come back home to go to work the next day. I stayed with my sister for several days to help her with transitioning to two babies instead of one.</span><span style="font-size:130%;">We ran some errands and just had fun with the two babies. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Magellan is really enjoying his little sister. He is ready to share with her:</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501139208842736738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFUOMWtWl8_hEgBS4mYd-w_RSBVJPEWj8eaexmkaDDXvDMaqqDtW2EsioYFsVmg9X3_1E-hqrF6Et4woIyLGrZI_3evWaJE0gIU3yljXjHDszg7ReyYen833d-B8LA6A8TEng4vP_BbI/s320/jack+sharing.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">One day, my sister and I were sitting on either ends of the couch. She was holding the baby, and Magellan was crawling back and forth between us. All of a sudden, he just <span style="color:#993399;">reached</span> for his little sister! So we set Jack down and let him hold her for a minute.</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501139129068411394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62Y866bq8R5-Rwsxv9QgdJsCkjTFGddLs4D5F_aGQk3mGpfkb0L4uO0g2PthECQXP4Q8vT52GeEU2A3yobX14hbDBJKt_UHUkl2HfSpccUsUy-085Soatfp5bCzoKmq3WHceqps0C5HQ/s320/jack+and+conley.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Every time we say, "Give Sissy some love," he puts his head to her head and says "Ohhhhh". That is what he is doing in this picture. After about <span style="color:#33cc00;">30 seconds</span>, he handed her back. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">He's going to be a<span style="color:#3366ff;"> tough</span> but good big brother.</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">My sister is an <span style="color:#ff0000;">awesome</span> mom. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501139044988927138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXVcoRnI6qen13AZoQswSNCY8TIVlilr_QqINb3y-Z5-z3jqMVWUaYLTEPJBP6kY48HJXLVNKfq0VSc1An2iIozqdSORHmp6oumycekGSmo9R0rUgs9ICtJfCqXLxELyiFHLyEmsvlVk/s320/Emily+Jack+and+Conley.jpg" border="0" /></span></p>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-68918012629769217932010-07-21T20:15:00.026-05:002010-07-22T12:55:37.976-05:00Treasures<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">My house is <span style="color:#ffcc00;">incredibly</span> dull. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Most blogs show these <span style="color:#ff0000;">beautiful</span> houses that are perfectly decorated. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><span style="color:#33cc00;"><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Weclome to my blog.</span></div><div align="center"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Here is a picture of the view from our couch:<br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496782982475637682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivNRYUvFE5Qn6Qc2YzhUkLt2nPmJs6mcXtqEd34E3vk9gJ3pHnrawePJu7kidD0P_1k1uJHi_IzWAxvoWYDpUFzaOpM0Zl8r9ATa3TKmge1c3mAv6X0vRsK9JGBfpVbfomecpWam1ePA/s320/010.JPG" border="0" /> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I can show this picture, though, because I am <span style="color:#00cccc;">hopeful</span> that it won't always be dull.</span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">This is a <span style="color:#333333;">Before</span> and <span style="color:#ff0000;">A<span style="color:#ffcc00;">f</span><span style="color:#000099;">t</span><span style="color:#33cc00;">e</span>r</span> event.</span></p><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">In my defense, we haven't even been married four months yet. And also in my defense, I have only ever decorated </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">a childish bedroom and a college dorm room/apartment. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Never a whole house, and <em>never </em>without <span style="color:#ff6666;">Disney princesses</span>. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">G.I. Joe has been telling me that he really wants to see some pictures <span style="color:#999900;">or something</span> up</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">on the walls, but I am <em>terrified</em> of putting anything up! You would think with all of the</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#666666;">spackle</span> experience that I have under my belt, I wouldn't be so <span style="color:#330033;">afraid</span> of holes in the </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">walls. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">But I am.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Sometimes the only thing to do is to face your fears. My mom and sister can't come and help me because the <span style="color:#ff6666;">stork</span> will be visiting my sister's house any minute.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">So I went shopping.</span></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Adult decorating shopping.</span></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff6666;">No Disney princesses</span>.</span></em></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">First I went to <span style="color:#000099;">Tuesday Morning</span>. One of the best stores ever.</span></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I found this:</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496550330581001122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXhyJ7HZMdZlltl6TwQZSI9hI_GmxSFTrTkuMt7fY_W-vOG_M0mBxe1ro6h8LM8AhSFAzJICD9gpem9fQhSlcq3LCi0irE6fiqQSTTfODtjpOW1xv_qP1nr9W_NdEgVzFafEKR8K5NJ0/s320/007.JPG" border="0" /><br />I love, love, love it. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496777094095846978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVo-QKsc22WPiym7G4CHVxVM-FgXYvIwqPB0xyLBkZZ2qufNm9Resi1AGU8s23du_GrcNBrldDsaYrc2j_14aL3oKDoJxm7kS0uVvNUA0FOhsUDY8-hRTfYGdzxxCGMFEygSgqMkprE4/s320/010.JPG" border="0" /><br /></span><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff9966;">(I love, love, love him too.)</span> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I also found this adorable frame. </span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496783259355333490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIXWeDl4D5TdR9u9NtvXIEZk7mT_yRW217b_lB6amzFHzEksCYkfHmDdMB2fVVH4gUZPMOHG24mRHe1OnpJMte5zEBCg-mjHhAZw9KZ1f0BIhgpJhVT-n-pQhItZXFBWlOSzZe_XNuho/s320/003.JPG" border="0" /><br /></span><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I am going to blow up one of our wedding pictures and put it in it. </span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">My <span style="color:#ff9900;">wish/dream/goal/plan</span> is to get a pretty little table, </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">put it against a wall that I have picked out in our living room,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">hang the <span style="color:#33cc00;"><span style="color:#ff0000;">gorgeous</span> </span>mirror behind it,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">and put picture frames all on top of the table. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff9900;">Wish/dream/goal/plan</span>. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">That means I have to find a table.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I also ran by <span style="color:#009900;">Kirklands</span>. Another great store. They just so happened to be having a <span style="color:#ffcc00;">HUGE</span> sale </span></div><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496783793074093810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 243px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYOBAgrQ7tfy9QyysyolRI2lOCIzEPD2y58LNF0BuW7CQCJiuWVAtayBjN0lmdA6nGoNMI61SU9pDaeu_VkK3LW3E35YCDRN4kON-G0IE-I7ZqC3Z9G12nfrqxFgqsLVxLef-RsUIfgD4/s320/0047.jpg" border="0" /><br />I got <span style="color:#cc0000;">both</span> of these for $35.00. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">They were marked for $40, but the girl gave me a $5 coupon!</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I love cool cashiers!</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496783743879314706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYaDkgM802q_Cz2YBevBt2zz0IE4REP9f6T7bt8qqno_OHf3weJgmho8GpvVjZNp2ka_H9q2PljvhxDmZ19U0HVdQo_w_3oU8TpU_6UFJuofnNIGsgBkESs_Icf0KvdvqMoAdOzI7kNmo/s320/009.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I hung them above our couch. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I can't decide if they need to go <span style="color:#999900;">closer</span> together, or if they need something in between them.</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Like this <span style="color:#333399;">amazing</span> clock we got as a wedding present from the secretaries at my dad's church.</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496783883004379682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4whXv9N79WEhmI6S7elgM9c-KXCgBbSNtunT9bRfMAAK6ms8lDcR6um83PacKpPHJw_Ce0f3J39KHrZLufSOO6b2ez2f3Mqxbcpqi6LQpq4fbn9ZhYQgAu4mBydMY7X3GTNkm9NROHo/s320/007.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Hopefully, I will have prettier pictures to show you of our house soon...<span style="color:#009900;">and no more blank walls</span>!</span> </p>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-15612991131810980052010-07-21T06:01:00.006-05:002010-07-21T06:56:33.744-05:00That Kind of Night<div align="center"> I am married to the most patient and incredible man in the world.<br /></div><div align="center">I have been suspecting that, but last night proved it. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Last night was one of those nights that is funny today, but we weren't laughing last night. </div><br /><div align="center">In case you haven't figured out the G.I. Joe reference, my husband is in the Army. He is a Second Lieutenant. He has been commissioned for a year now, so we are Army babies.</div><br /><div align="center">Last night, we had our first FRG meeting. </div><div align="center">FRG = Family Readiness Group</div><div align="center">The FRG is what keeps family informed about what is going on with their soldiers, </div><div align="center">especially during deployment.</div><br /><br /><div align="center">Our first FRG meeting was a picnic on post. The FRG leaders split up some of the food items as potluck. I was supposed to bring a side. So I made a watermelon basket.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496326000429696082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwq7rz9K9VwFzghcbWD-8jprTkdv_4beYulSnmKjSt1HwA4gL97LJizaSa9T6ecIRSdZGyG4ZwGJuSefDCmyklQgwFRlQWDR0jwHO10EZ5uFRn7ciHl2tMpblVlfwXdWzYBKSAxnnBqCs/s320/017.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center">I am actually pretty proud of it, just don't look to closely...</div><br /><div align="center">We had a lot of fun. I got to meet a lot of G.I. Joe's soldiers and commanding officers and their families. </div><br /><div align="center">Things were great until the picnic ended. </div><br /><div align="center">G.I. Joe was put in charge of taking the giant grill to get rinsed out, and to count and put up all the chairs. I had to drive separately to the picnic because G.I. Joe came straight from work. </div><div align="center">So we had two cars there. </div><br /><div align="center">Being the <em>adoring</em> wife that I am, I didn't want to go home while G.I. Joe had to run around post cleaning off the grill and putting up chairs. I wanted to go with him. Mistake #1.</div><br /><div align="center">Since we are Army babies, we still have a hard time finding our way around post. The picnic was at a park just inside Gate 6. (There are a lot of gates to get onto an Army post) So we left my car at the park, and I hopped into G.I. Joe's truck with just my phone and keys. </div><br /><div align="center">G.I. Joe decided that he would go out of Gate 6 and head up the road to the next gate because he was familiar with that particular gate. Mistake #2.</div><br /><div align="center">As we were pulling up to the next gate, G.I. Joe says, "Do you have your ID?"</div><br /><div align="center">Okay, for those of you who know less about the Army than I do, let me stop and explain something.</div><div align="center">Everyone who is in the Army or an Army spouse must get a military ID card. Not only does the military ID card get you lots of great discounts in stores and the movies, it also is a requirement to get onto an Army post. No exceptions. </div><br /><div align="center">When G.I. Joe asked, I realized my ID was in my wallet, in my purse, in the floor of the back of my car. On post. I was off post. Are you understanding the problem? Mistake #3.</div><br /><div align="center">So G.I. Joe turned around to go back to get it. Further complication. We can't even get back through Gate 6 without the card. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Dangit.<br /></div><div align="center">G.I. Joe had another guy waiting to help him count and put up the chairs, so we didn't have a whole lot of time. So G.I. Joe said, "I'll just leave you at Wal-Mart, take these chairs, get your ID, then come pick you up." </div><div align="center">Great plan. </div><div align="center">Except for I brought my keys into Wal-Mart with me.</div><div align="center">Mistake #4.<br /></div><div align="center">After an hour of shopping at Wal-Mart (most of which I enjoyed by walking around and talking to my mom on the phone), G.I. Joe came back.<br /></div><div align="center">We went to Gate 6, but it was closed. Certain Gates close at certain times. </div><br /><div align="center">So we went to the 24 hour Gate. I had to wait inside the Guard Shack so G.I. Joe could go onto post, get my ID, and bring it back, <em>so that</em> he could then bring me onto post, and I could drive my car home. </div><br /><div align="center">I walk into the Guard Shack and sit down. And guess what I am still holding. </div><div align="center">Yes. </div><div align="center">My keys. </div><div align="center">Mistake #5.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I called G.I. Joe, and he answered by saying, "I know, the keys." He came back, I gave him the keys, and he left again. When he drove off the second time, I realized something else.</div><br /><div align="center">The whole reason that we had driven off-post in the first place was because we didn't know how to get from Gate 6 to anywhere else. Now G.I. Joe had to find Gate 6 in the dark, drive back to the Gate I was waiting at, and then Find Gate 6 again with me.<br /></div><div align="center">Oh, and the truck has no gas during this entire adventure. Just to make things more exciting.<br /></div><div align="center">Anyway, he finds Gate 6, gets my ID, comes back to get me, takes me back to Gate 6 to get both cars, and we started home.<br /></div><div align="center">As I am following him, the grill starts spitting out hot coals. </div><br /><div align="center">I took a picture. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496325113049047714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEn_eScCW3R_TfpSrNV472fvnPAdzTWpXezWnEJx27j3tIhcUEsqptA_t_Slu9IxOI26RgKIW6wqcVLD5pbEzRCKAACJfiX6ep2eLRIAunfT46vsfBe_YoRSlz2FoPXRgv4K49s5k8BDo/s320/035.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">(Don't think about the complications of my driving and taking pictures at the same time)</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">The arrow is pointing to the hot coals that had just fallen out of the grill. I quickly braked to miss them, so that is why everything is a little blurry.</div><br /><p align="center">Yes, the picture was that important.</p><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Anyway, we finally got home. I kept waiting for G.I. Joe to explode at me for </div><div align="center">1) insisting on going with him, </div><div align="center">2) forgetting my ID,</div><div align="center">3) taking my keys in Wal-Mart</div><div align="center">4) taking my keys in the Guard Shack</div><div align="center">5) just for being dumb,</div><div align="center">but he didn't. We got home, and he kissed me and said, "I love you," with a smile on his face.</div><div align="center">I said, "I wouldn't have blamed you for leaving me at the Guard Shack all night."</div><div align="center">He pulled me really close, hugged me, kissed the top of my head, and laughed. </div><div align="center">"I wouldn't do that."</div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">He is incredible. Sometimes it takes that kind of night to appreciate what you have. </div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-47959426706859116732010-07-14T21:02:00.014-05:002010-07-15T14:47:06.029-05:00"We were both young when I first saw you..."I have mentioned G.I. Joe in just about every post so far, but I have not explicitly said who he is. For those of you who are still confused, G.I. Joe is my husband. My fun, handsome, caring, adventurous, romantic, strong, sweet husband. Now that you are grossed out, I want to talk a little more about him. Actually, not just him, but our story. Yes, that horrible story of how a couple met. I am actually going to bore you with it on a blog. But, we happen to think that it is a really great story (especially because it ends with us and wedding bells!). Fortunately for you, I am going to stretch this out over several posts, intermixed with the everyday jazz. It is just too long for one post. So here it goes:<br /><br />We both went to Liberty University as freshman in the fall of 2005. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wg9I3v-qlC54na0LB41p-G2dzMoQna3ZzUQJGkUS1NdK0-yjdxYwB3itpvx1t1G1b5Dv5leXcDxQ_ZCqoIBlkHqX6ICQQ12wl2yCedhwvQOXwGcFzXhcL26X3K8gOCH0F__B7_A_vH4/s1600/liberty.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/AVvXsEi_wg9I3v-qlC54na0LB41p-G2dzMoQna3ZzUQJGkUS1NdK0-yjdxYwB3itpvx1t1G1b5Dv5leXcDxQ_ZCqoIBlkHqX6ICQQ12wl2yCedhwvQOXwGcFzXhcL26X3K8gOCH0F__B7_A_vH4/s320/liberty.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493956111972897378" /></a><br />Liberty has this cool setup for their boy and girl dorms - and no, they are definitely <em>not</em> co-ed. Each boy dorm has a "sister" girl dorm, and vice versa. Now you know what I am going to say. G.I. Joe was in my brother dorm. I honestly cannot tell you the first time we met, or even the second. He just became an immediate friend. Of course, I had no idea that he had intentions beyond friendship from the very first. <br /><br />Pause. I have to tell a little about my roommate before I go on because she is very important to this story. My roommate and I, I'll call her Akeerisha, immediately became inseperable. She is still one of my very best friends. I would be much happier if we lived closer to eachother. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsS__VQ2JXAgrU7GX1msZN6wqXcStpDUnKHsSYffeiKdp1_e9e3Zc1E7Dam7CjKE-o9d2LkIyuN7rYuHDvkO2ZQFFMNl55S7TWqJd3m062Bc3oJRU0B4UsNid5bc1PyeavKOXqknTEUO8/s1600/untitled45.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsS__VQ2JXAgrU7GX1msZN6wqXcStpDUnKHsSYffeiKdp1_e9e3Zc1E7Dam7CjKE-o9d2LkIyuN7rYuHDvkO2ZQFFMNl55S7TWqJd3m062Bc3oJRU0B4UsNid5bc1PyeavKOXqknTEUO8/s320/untitled45.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493959185121959474" /></a><br />Go. So my roommate and I really enjoyed getting to know our brother dorm, but honestly were not interested in them except as friends. <br /><br />Pause. G.I. Joe also had a roommate, who I will call Pics. G.I. Joe and Pics instantly became best friends as well. Pics also knew of G.I. Joe's secret intentions concerning me. (Pics is the one in the hat. G.I. Joe is in the middle.) <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qbWN7u-5xLjbcXjo_DtkJhF2eef7pv8Ewim1TCIk1wj6mnWRAanP1FnOH_eh03AMzhppeTXtZNwQZJTYUkB8la0wR7Wk9YmY39kB0HeRH5cgrdZa5VJe9sFCuuwjSfWRnBl0O2VYQkc/s1600/untitled12.bmp"><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/AVvXsEj-qbWN7u-5xLjbcXjo_DtkJhF2eef7pv8Ewim1TCIk1wj6mnWRAanP1FnOH_eh03AMzhppeTXtZNwQZJTYUkB8la0wR7Wk9YmY39kB0HeRH5cgrdZa5VJe9sFCuuwjSfWRnBl0O2VYQkc/s320/untitled12.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493959588255821090" /></a><br />Go. Our brother/sister dorm was a very close brother/sister dorm. We did all kinds of things together. It also helped that Akeerisha, myself, G.I. Joe, and Pics were all prayer leaders on the leadership team of our dorms, which meant that we led small prayer groups every week. It also meant that we were even more connected to the dorm and were able to do even more activities with the brother leadership team. Hence, more time with G.I. Joe and Pics.<br /><br />Every Christmas at Liberty is a very exciting time, not only because of the crazy Christmas convo (chapel) where everyone makes fun of the previous year's evangelists and happenings, not just because of the several weeks we get to go home, and not because the rot (the student's endearing name for the cafeteria) serves better food. There is one thing that stands above all else when Christmas comes to Liberty. That is <strong>Open Dorms</strong>. Open Dorms is the <em>one time </em> the boys get to go into the girl's dorms, and vice versa. First, the boys come and look at the girl's dorms. They have one hour to go to any girl's room they want. The girls have inevitably been spending the previous week decorating and cleaning and cooking to make their room the most memorable and exciting room. After that hour is over, the girls have one hour to visit any boy's room they want. The boys have been spending the previous week making their rooms as incredibly disgusting as they possibly can. (Okay, that's not true, but we wondered.) G.I. Joe and Pics, however, had been Christmas decorating. Their bedroom was covered in multi-colored Christmas lights, and their bathroom was entirely <em>blue</em> Christmas lights. Yes. Blue. I won't lie, their room was our favorite. Whether it was the Christmas lights, the hubcap collection on the wall, the fifteen million posters hanging, the pile of dirty clothes under the bed that was larger than the mattress, or the boys themselves, I could not tell you. But, I have a sneaky suspicion it was the last one. <br /><br />We had no idea what was in store.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-11443823131748806642010-07-13T06:48:00.004-05:002010-07-14T10:17:38.292-05:00The Waiting GameMy nephew is one of my favorite people in the whole world. He is 16 months old. I will call him Magellan because he is the most curious baby and loves to explore! Here is a picture of him "exploring" my sister's bouquet at my wedding:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYr9q4_j_To_1V2TkCrbJ6vKD8zPD2B8bmyg1EU-K_uKLVqsT4DfIPr9CRN2n8NZXuE68_pHwzNFv5TwqUCq34qquZ3Tdzcvkw0YCGLbTPpO1IB3hP9Vo111Cwe3c_SSKvjgj6W_s23w/s1600/IMG_1901.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/AVvXsEisYr9q4_j_To_1V2TkCrbJ6vKD8zPD2B8bmyg1EU-K_uKLVqsT4DfIPr9CRN2n8NZXuE68_pHwzNFv5TwqUCq34qquZ3Tdzcvkw0YCGLbTPpO1IB3hP9Vo111Cwe3c_SSKvjgj6W_s23w/s320/IMG_1901.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493358480360817010" /></a><br /><br />He is the first baby on both my sister's side of the family and her husband's side of the family, so he is very well loved. But, my sister is just about ready to have her second baby. This one is a girl. We haven't met her yet, so I don't have a name for her. As soon as I get a call from my sister, though, my camera and I will be on our way to the hospital! Then I will have more pictures of Magellan as well as the new little girl!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-37542350938349818322010-07-13T06:06:00.004-05:002010-07-13T06:14:13.235-05:00My Favorite Blog<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhRmf71vThmjiBg3T1D3AELEGTaL59xi8obvtMQUmQhw0rhRPazdEOhwTus2ZMFdDudq3t1O6RPCN5r_UQv0_m1w0HuYdn_fBA-jvB-7lbCvlRn0o69ePg3Zx4o-h1ZNtEUQZZVK_zv4/s1600/IMG_1717.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/AVvXsEjGhRmf71vThmjiBg3T1D3AELEGTaL59xi8obvtMQUmQhw0rhRPazdEOhwTus2ZMFdDudq3t1O6RPCN5r_UQv0_m1w0HuYdn_fBA-jvB-7lbCvlRn0o69ePg3Zx4o-h1ZNtEUQZZVK_zv4/s320/IMG_1717.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493347300518096610" /></a><br /><br />The whole reason I started a blog was because my mom started one several months ago and has really enjoyed it. My mom is the one in the cream and black dress in the picture. The other two are my incredible sisters. I will talk a lot about them in later posts, I promise. <br /><br />My mom is so creative and such a great writer, so her blog is a lot of fun to read. She decided to tell about my blog on hers and even did a little interview of me! You can read it on <a href="http://doodlebugdrama.blogspot.com">doodlebug drama</a>. She has a lot of really neat things on her blog. I am an avid reader of it!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-11246845216922145502010-07-09T22:42:00.019-05:002010-07-12T22:04:07.727-05:00"I smell frost on cotton leaves, and I feel that southern breeze"G.I. Joe was given some time off work, so we decided to take a huge roadtrip. Johnny Cash was one of our many roadtrip sing-a-longs. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0rkA7Ca4tWzimeELSfZdbnCvhlkbXzQT2ZflqRk1aDUe0z1K88bYTs4Jfqm1vW2K1shfEnRUTOIP5m93pWZySjk5Qe0d_u-_Yo52I5d5ruv_7gY1OKQw7FtGnAcEDaS9iVlQ7p5vIIXY/s1600/028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0rkA7Ca4tWzimeELSfZdbnCvhlkbXzQT2ZflqRk1aDUe0z1K88bYTs4Jfqm1vW2K1shfEnRUTOIP5m93pWZySjk5Qe0d_u-_Yo52I5d5ruv_7gY1OKQw7FtGnAcEDaS9iVlQ7p5vIIXY/s320/028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492136519504451970" /></a><br /> <br />We went up to Pennsylvania to visit his family (both sides), saw our friends' play in West Virginia, visited with our newlywed roommates (the bride was my roommate in college and the groom was G.I. Joe's roommate), then headed to the outer banks for some camping fun. <br /><br />To save on money, G.I. Joe built a tent-sorta-type thing in the bed of the truck out of PVC pipe and bungies. Which, sidenote, bungies are just about the most handy and versatile object you can possibly have in your car. Just saying.<br /><br />This is my handsome husband next to the truck bed with the tent frame.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLvJIiqeZkeFAIMbm86TsgQAUMbTK1mG_EBSfDgmVUuTi9g8Pm2jzf65DNwaBF083Lh1cc1XpKiYmdlJ6dYAwYNlJZwnuRnE2ohL1D93LTdKaDD9Y6q-88V2bm0EgcrmDBzjFqPaY4og/s1600/061.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLvJIiqeZkeFAIMbm86TsgQAUMbTK1mG_EBSfDgmVUuTi9g8Pm2jzf65DNwaBF083Lh1cc1XpKiYmdlJ6dYAwYNlJZwnuRnE2ohL1D93LTdKaDD9Y6q-88V2bm0EgcrmDBzjFqPaY4og/s320/061.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492137017051670914" /></a><br /><br />Here are pictures of the inside of our "tent".<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3W38XLox7vPX78J1SRXVh634OuviQLomge8GhMJmpwlfCg_wj_H1XUxVh5YJzP3IkNH1t2UKn3daN4uj5fCrLWICCp8MYsVib2jwfC1ZNyaUJSR9Fb9Gm2V7QrkVmz2-_JKZAEK773n4/s1600/134.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3W38XLox7vPX78J1SRXVh634OuviQLomge8GhMJmpwlfCg_wj_H1XUxVh5YJzP3IkNH1t2UKn3daN4uj5fCrLWICCp8MYsVib2jwfC1ZNyaUJSR9Fb9Gm2V7QrkVmz2-_JKZAEK773n4/s320/134.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493156257846222754" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs7nxoWbRa12M6-ljnhOv0kxTvSBK69uvmUmmtcWJ0Hzihj2g-WeMcb7WCzYcpg1o1YY_B_hGbAblyzYcQ26Hn_do907QMg7lC_CILvl9EoFxjZre-qMUP_OUq7is_F6Los40xcrC9y2M/s1600/133.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs7nxoWbRa12M6-ljnhOv0kxTvSBK69uvmUmmtcWJ0Hzihj2g-WeMcb7WCzYcpg1o1YY_B_hGbAblyzYcQ26Hn_do907QMg7lC_CILvl9EoFxjZre-qMUP_OUq7is_F6Los40xcrC9y2M/s320/133.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493156128289141778" /></a><br /><br />Everything was going great, until the tropical storm hit. The wind was about 30mph the first night, then it rained (and I mean <em>rained</em>) the second and third nights. But, we were determined to keep a good attitude, so we figured on the second day, since it was raining, we would go see the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. Originally, we thought it would be a good idea to leave the tarp covering the bed, like the pictures I just showed, because it would keep <em>our </em>bed dry for that night, and it would be easier to put up in the rain. Fail. <br /><br />Here is G.I. Joe putting the tarp up in the rain on the side of the road:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijU5k01V_lDJQW8_SL0w5gphiRSf2w1o79jmyda-hzgi7dDO7EzD-uPBHNPxjeC_0k_IS2pDjmMmwX6pb7g3gvEnKoqi3XzZAUcFbloPmSXJwjmr8TQdTpo0zLQoK2S5mMBNd-cGGBcA/s1600/155.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijU5k01V_lDJQW8_SL0w5gphiRSf2w1o79jmyda-hzgi7dDO7EzD-uPBHNPxjeC_0k_IS2pDjmMmwX6pb7g3gvEnKoqi3XzZAUcFbloPmSXJwjmr8TQdTpo0zLQoK2S5mMBNd-cGGBcA/s320/155.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493157515567045122" /></a><br /><br />And again:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRoCXnmKJHCnk1wLwCZMoJKQL2usZta5P6hjFjuU61jXMv7NbOG03RAw6CTYqxW79rXIm7bbx_FLRZG3T-gxPhOIDL-fG_hP9SguytdHE48qWu9FBpDYY9rXilS1wJ1ikSPFQwdHLLZU8/s1600/156.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRoCXnmKJHCnk1wLwCZMoJKQL2usZta5P6hjFjuU61jXMv7NbOG03RAw6CTYqxW79rXIm7bbx_FLRZG3T-gxPhOIDL-fG_hP9SguytdHE48qWu9FBpDYY9rXilS1wJ1ikSPFQwdHLLZU8/s320/156.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493157744784464642" /></a><br /><br />Well, we got lost. I mean, we didn't get lost, the lighthouse did. We passed it (I have no idea how) and kept driving down Hwy 12 for at least 30 minutes before we realized we had passed it. So we turned back around and found it. When we pulled into the parking lot, we saw the hours and had 20 minutes until they closed. Which was okay, because we just wanted to run up, take a picture from the top, and then go. A great plan until we got out of the car. A "hssssss" sound stopped both of us in our tracks. In our rear tire was a nail, a massive nail, tilted just right to let the maximum amount of air out of the tire while still managing to catch a ride. So instead of racing up the lighthouse stairs, we jumped back in the car, after I begged G.I. Joe for one picture:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VDixejqGm_TI5un0JBMXbLVRUHCNXorCstCBkuAWPi9NPmm4q3WtnZArwCx0ixCXk5erOGSSThxZixzoUrcw-ZbVO_ku_vCmPNsYh_5GZX_kHKjyIPYfgWVrVseLHkCrE1X1t3eFWaI/s1600/143.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VDixejqGm_TI5un0JBMXbLVRUHCNXorCstCBkuAWPi9NPmm4q3WtnZArwCx0ixCXk5erOGSSThxZixzoUrcw-ZbVO_ku_vCmPNsYh_5GZX_kHKjyIPYfgWVrVseLHkCrE1X1t3eFWaI/s320/143.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493217424911852882" /></a><br /><br />I think his face portrays our mood perfectly at this moment. Thankfully, there was a car parts place just outside of the Cape Hatteras park, so we were able to park under the awning of a gas station while G.I. Joe repaired the hole with a tire repair kit. The gas station also just happened to have free air, so the Lord was definitely taking care of us. We only had to fix the tarp once on the way back. <br /><br />The rest of our trip went really well. We got to fly kites on Jockey's Ridge (my favorite part of the vacation):<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0b3jzR_N9mhc6Nh9YlXq0kRUhnRvmTnGPHCtayouoyTppP1u1Fzk1oCBvJYwtckt9OcM96DDpOm9XudirptUVnaVLtrmDOEx5moPbxKd-Uj-KUqxiaku1Gl5Q5bWqUXcdLGnpLi4TN4/s1600/120.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0b3jzR_N9mhc6Nh9YlXq0kRUhnRvmTnGPHCtayouoyTppP1u1Fzk1oCBvJYwtckt9OcM96DDpOm9XudirptUVnaVLtrmDOEx5moPbxKd-Uj-KUqxiaku1Gl5Q5bWqUXcdLGnpLi4TN4/s320/120.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493218372033383698" /></a><br /><br />play in the ocean:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4JsQTkX-mWuK6riSi-vdLc-gwvj29Nmx85i9iTw41wv22t6zM6vtePOEv1RdAdAxzK_VdRXkD0AMEUBhcksdl2IoABQG3tZkkbTwfBMP9Rbi1vfKSoNqUYg80K9gLeqdNqwilcDnkEI/s1600/171.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4JsQTkX-mWuK6riSi-vdLc-gwvj29Nmx85i9iTw41wv22t6zM6vtePOEv1RdAdAxzK_VdRXkD0AMEUBhcksdl2IoABQG3tZkkbTwfBMP9Rbi1vfKSoNqUYg80K9gLeqdNqwilcDnkEI/s320/171.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493219101571048994" /></a><br /><br />and watch sunrises and sunsets:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyjAg-PBwFQ5gqSh6mQk7TwqqfmK9xQ_UDatek8ZOBP1alTl3-zN_vn1I-cu_2bahaUD2Um7HqWljAhxTjZdG3GhVSCRFOFFTtQtSpikFjBzLTt1-X5D8Mf1EhBzKfkSwlsjBAxqc-UU/s1600/211.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyjAg-PBwFQ5gqSh6mQk7TwqqfmK9xQ_UDatek8ZOBP1alTl3-zN_vn1I-cu_2bahaUD2Um7HqWljAhxTjZdG3GhVSCRFOFFTtQtSpikFjBzLTt1-X5D8Mf1EhBzKfkSwlsjBAxqc-UU/s320/211.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493218779224253906" /></a><br /><br />We did quite a bit more, and I took plenty more pictures, but those will have to wait for another day. This post is already too long! <br /><br />Here is one last picture to commemorate a great, if not eventful, trip:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ9qxUotYgQ94YDNsSUyLsolOSN6RlicO4YnUYzf4-E0wSpnywnielzM5GsX8-YC2iX2RGL6pUNxC5cZwh52Na-vR5gyFXVXkc5G1PKw5w_ZBBJYUGug9C-n5J6m5Uu5K5eSE1eZRi9E/s1600/281.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ9qxUotYgQ94YDNsSUyLsolOSN6RlicO4YnUYzf4-E0wSpnywnielzM5GsX8-YC2iX2RGL6pUNxC5cZwh52Na-vR5gyFXVXkc5G1PKw5w_ZBBJYUGug9C-n5J6m5Uu5K5eSE1eZRi9E/s320/281.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493219724570198738" /></a>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-58265792286734216342010-07-09T10:49:00.016-05:002010-07-11T19:08:18.640-05:00My Version of Chicken SaladI love chicken salad - when it is made the way I like. For a long time, I thought I didn't like it because I had some pretty nasty versions, but Arby's changed my mind. Unfortunately, they do not sell their chicken salad sandwiches anymore (they were expensive, even for just the sandwich), but they inspired me. I decided that I knew what I liked in my chicken salad, and I could make my own. So I did. And G.I. Joe <em>loves</em> it. I made some today, and thought it might be a good thing to put on here. Pictures and all. This is not an official recipe so please do not get angry at the "pinch" and "spoonful" measurements. <br /><br />Here is a picture of the ingredients:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QKrl9-If-1oTTR1YZMX1ioHLnkQMFxfv-OUnYds7bcgNwWAUZ_C3L1j-7jyzpBdV_BVv8mMxkosa8z4srMEpXnN7U-nHCdJ8CDnlzn51k2QwXFFOnPUBVeZpAQML-mvqqS2TlZGdVRM/s1600/268.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QKrl9-If-1oTTR1YZMX1ioHLnkQMFxfv-OUnYds7bcgNwWAUZ_C3L1j-7jyzpBdV_BVv8mMxkosa8z4srMEpXnN7U-nHCdJ8CDnlzn51k2QwXFFOnPUBVeZpAQML-mvqqS2TlZGdVRM/s320/268.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492801002643842050" /></a><br />(I love the bags of frozen chicken. They make my life so easy. I get the tenderloins because they thaw and cook faster and G.I. Joe and I don't eat all that much)<br /><br />First I bake the chicken (about two or three breasts, five or six tenderloins) until it is tender enough to practically fall apart with a fork (about 20 mins at 350). <br /><br />While the chicken is cooling, I chop up about two stalks of celery and about two handfuls of walnuts (pecans work well too, it is just whatever I have on hand). <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppuAubkCHzPKeAEtvd9XXiuxIfP6cOO2a_RJPEiKCDH-2alH4xMr7Y0aAUZgkEZ4ewS0-BE_vNJ0ww3LLcj1SnsEkCFyY2fCBycd2pDXdmR8bFnv1OZJs3sLMwf45SXgFRi0hVTGIuC0/s1600/264.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppuAubkCHzPKeAEtvd9XXiuxIfP6cOO2a_RJPEiKCDH-2alH4xMr7Y0aAUZgkEZ4ewS0-BE_vNJ0ww3LLcj1SnsEkCFyY2fCBycd2pDXdmR8bFnv1OZJs3sLMwf45SXgFRi0hVTGIuC0/s320/264.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492801118617758274" /></a><br /><br />Then, I cut (or tear) the chicken into small pieces.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8txFuJCnJNpjpFHQvYyvzJtAN11EaMIjqB7zshfz5HrbjqSODPSO9fBJyeDyYcj0zmzEzw6ogs0F3X6UXjHZr5G3ElUGKHA2hE_ZZ8-fzwooMaHlCIS-hgl-1xoyLX3fAyWyTyn2DOn8/s1600/266.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8txFuJCnJNpjpFHQvYyvzJtAN11EaMIjqB7zshfz5HrbjqSODPSO9fBJyeDyYcj0zmzEzw6ogs0F3X6UXjHZr5G3ElUGKHA2hE_ZZ8-fzwooMaHlCIS-hgl-1xoyLX3fAyWyTyn2DOn8/s320/266.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492802964004842066" /></a><br /><br />I add in about three spoonfuls of mayo and about three spoonfuls of sweet relish. (Here is a "spoonful")<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIhlMZjAS0Skcz2sCTLxHX74FnquI7feC0IQcU_9qWF083Zz7kHap-MmIrS86ZFR5ynS39o7GXdLI6fML0lNZwupdZsvandP2kknXXa9ZeMIV1PP0XM_5CU9sDcpx1Q0W1jfUKqjE-D0/s1600/269.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIhlMZjAS0Skcz2sCTLxHX74FnquI7feC0IQcU_9qWF083Zz7kHap-MmIrS86ZFR5ynS39o7GXdLI6fML0lNZwupdZsvandP2kknXXa9ZeMIV1PP0XM_5CU9sDcpx1Q0W1jfUKqjE-D0/s320/269.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492801229250968034" /></a><br /><br />Everytime I make this, G.I. Joe's face lights up and it typically only lasts a day or two, no matter how much I make. It is good on sandwich bread, rolls, and crackers.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_d1ZKbsZyR2a7qd3Qh3NkQCVRJIytLAJo3Ra_0yokwK3MZhfud6s2TyEqnhxnUvwCv-TQ_YnKqF9YzmeYuel-M57SntFlNTbKHd2myFnjemErYHshqyV4i-SuEp8Um7bZKDANQP6PehQ/s1600/279.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_d1ZKbsZyR2a7qd3Qh3NkQCVRJIytLAJo3Ra_0yokwK3MZhfud6s2TyEqnhxnUvwCv-TQ_YnKqF9YzmeYuel-M57SntFlNTbKHd2myFnjemErYHshqyV4i-SuEp8Um7bZKDANQP6PehQ/s320/279.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492801306734584034" /></a><br /><br />And this is how I like chicken salad. Burger King recently put up posters in their restaurants that explain your personality based on the condiments you choose for your burger. I wonder what mayo, sweet relish, walnuts, and celery say?Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8639548212823686050.post-3774237640356193402010-07-08T12:39:00.000-05:002010-07-08T13:23:54.382-05:00Life and TimesThere are a couple differences between who I want to be and who I currently am. 1) I want to be a better housekeeper. I would love to have a schedule for when I clean what room and stick to it! 2) I want to be a better cook. Side dishes are hard to come by and I'm getting tired of the rice and noodle packets. 3) I want to be a stronger wife. I want my G.I. Joe to be able to lean on me as much as I lean on him. 4) I want a deeper relationship with Christ. I want to depend on Him so completely that everything else is less important. 5) I want to be a better decorator. White walls just aren't cutting it. (I had to add this one because I just looked at the wall while I was thinking and shuddered.) <br /><br />Creating a blog is not going to fix these things, and reading this blog will not change anyone's life. But, hopefully through this blog, I will be able to look back and see how I have progressed in these areas. Life is a crazy exciting journey, and God has already brought me through some pretty exciting and even tough times. This blog is to record the new adventures, yummy and failed recipes, decorating ideas, and life and times of this new wife.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06773511503542937856noreply@blogger.com0