tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65942076875180475052024-02-06T22:32:46.212-08:00I Am Sooooo the Dramatic One"All the world is a stage..." Too true Shakes, and there is nothing like being the Queen Mother to 3 Drama Princesses to prove it. Don't save the drama for your mamma because that's me! And in real life, bring it on baby...I am the Drama Monger.One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-2736709021741173482016-01-07T08:32:00.002-08:002016-01-07T08:32:28.947-08:00I had no idea it had been this long..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpF-hBg5eIWf7ArGmY-phnzQ6UiCZSNT7Ttjtj25VcGUehHIVTDer4zjeGGqHdzmAxGoDrJlZsUAhPjBjWRFqdFRdG8JB5MNVfnKxbzbEwt9q_Rlj3FGkYF33-fGwhIJzEjfoFc7yZ1GV/s1600/Thank-you.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpF-hBg5eIWf7ArGmY-phnzQ6UiCZSNT7Ttjtj25VcGUehHIVTDer4zjeGGqHdzmAxGoDrJlZsUAhPjBjWRFqdFRdG8JB5MNVfnKxbzbEwt9q_Rlj3FGkYF33-fGwhIJzEjfoFc7yZ1GV/s640/Thank-you.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
And yet it has. I've been doing research about blogging and such, and I decided that I want my own domain that I own and all of that. Now, that takes time and money, and it also means that I will have to become very serious about my blog.<br />
<br />
Well...as serious as I get anyway.<br />
<br />
The truth is I AM serious about my blog. I want to do better at it. I really want for you guys to get the best of me that I can give. What that means though is that my blog will most likely have a new name and look. I will have more uniform content. I really want to hear from you with comments. I'm really grateful to all of you that have been with me through this journey, and I'm really looking forward to my next steps. <br />
<br />
So look forward to some big and awesome changes! Don't worry; if you read this for the wow-Jen-needs-to-take-a-pillness, all that crazy will still be going on. After all it's the blog that's changing a lot not me...I'm still me.<br />
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You guys rock! My deadline is the end of January. Be ready.<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-38579166337831107202015-03-13T17:47:00.001-07:002015-03-13T17:58:19.568-07:001..2..3..NOT FAT!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbvo85HRwij18LjqrZSFoDSozRJsK1UdN-Jz7EQbiciy2HoSvVHBHSks2o246yuN3hg5bB6Y2n2hjI9bQ7Gf7P0a0pEkh6VrLko7Hba3p24eOVSAy6bkLcQHlJT9Wi_8Qg18gg-VkEbE1/s1600/not+fat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbvo85HRwij18LjqrZSFoDSozRJsK1UdN-Jz7EQbiciy2HoSvVHBHSks2o246yuN3hg5bB6Y2n2hjI9bQ7Gf7P0a0pEkh6VrLko7Hba3p24eOVSAy6bkLcQHlJT9Wi_8Qg18gg-VkEbE1/s1600/not+fat.jpg" height="312" width="320" /></a></div>
So...I made a confession on Facebook. It goes as follows: Even though I was dressed and ready for the gym, I sat in my car in the parking lot of the gym until I had to go the bathroom with such urgency that I would have no choice but to enter the gym. Once in the gym, I would have no reason NOT to exercise. Sad but true; I needed my bladder to urge me forward on this day.<br />
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I also wrote that if we could say "1,2,3 not it!" as children we should be able to say "1,2,3, not fat!" as adults. I had a varied responses to the statement that I was fat. This is why I need to tell you something. Try not to get upset but...<br />
<br />
I am fat. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75ORGwQfrdRoAVnwFxerEHKJXiNfb1g0bKS6DfplhuV9Txg3gKcQ0AYUbaddTTT4rZPvG9x6NIl5N-Xa2mMmmKaC6FOugo8FgugJ1BzbNy4ONkcnJXrLt5nJLoW1Eyru3YNzjxJ5tEx3o/s1600/1394_38467894263_9433_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75ORGwQfrdRoAVnwFxerEHKJXiNfb1g0bKS6DfplhuV9Txg3gKcQ0AYUbaddTTT4rZPvG9x6NIl5N-Xa2mMmmKaC6FOugo8FgugJ1BzbNy4ONkcnJXrLt5nJLoW1Eyru3YNzjxJ5tEx3o/s1600/1394_38467894263_9433_n.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's where my arm and back meet...dirty birds.</td></tr>
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It's true. Just as true as it is that my eyes are grayish-blue and I have freckles on my shoulders. I have a mole on my left shoulder that my friend Vicky likes to draw on. See?<br />
My legs are longer than my torso. I have arms so long most long sleeved shirts are 3/4 sleeves on me. I have hair on my feet, (thank you, God, for making it blonde) and wide hips. All of these things describe me physically. That's <i><b>ALL</b></i> they do. Nothing else. It's just the current state of my body right now.<br />
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I wasn't cutting myself down. I'm a believer in being your own best advocate. If you don't want to buy what you're selling, why would anyone else? No. I was just saying "1,2,3..not fat!" is a great idea. I stand by it. It makes sense in theory...it's just that stinking reality miffs it up every time.<br />
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I wasn't saying, "I'm fat, so I don't think I'm pretty." I do not believe that <i>FAT</i> and <i>PRETTY</i> are opposites. No, no, no. I'm one of the cutest chubby chicks you ever did see. I've seem lots of pretty girls who are larger than a size 12. Smart girls. Funny girls. Hard-working girls. Honest girls. Just plain really fun and great to know girls. All of them beautiful. All of them in the shape of apples or pears. Still beautiful. <br />
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But, I know why you thought I was busting on myself. It's go-to put down isn't it? "Well. you're fat." It's the instant you-better-check-yourself remark. "You're saying no to this booty call? Psh..whatever. You're too fat anyways." It's the instant balm to a battered heart. "I can't believe he dumped me, and now, he's dating that fat cow." It doesn't matter if you're actually fat. It's the world's way of saying you are stupid, lazy, ugly, and worthless in one tidy little three letter box. <br />
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However, I rejected this world the day I asked Jesus to be Lord of my life. I know my worth. I'm worth dying for. I know my beauty. It comes from all those fruits of the Spirit the Lord is growing in me like joy, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness. I know of my intelligence and strengths. The chunky had nothing to do with the brains. And yes, I was lazy. That's how I got fat. I am learning my lesson one day at a time. I training myself to be healthier, and it's hard and not easy. I'll give you fat, but you can't have lazy anymore. I'm working hard to reverse what I've done. My goal is to go from fat to pudgy. I'll pick a new goal from there.<br />
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So know this. Fat is just a word that describes a physical form. Nothing more. Get out of that three letter box. It's small. Everyone's too fat for it no matter how thin they are. If you actually <i>are</i> fat, don't fret at the word. It can be a temporary physical description if you want it to be. You don't have to stay that way if you're unhappy. You can change your descriptive words by choosing to live a way that will help you be less fat. It might take a lot of work, and it might even suck sometimes. At least until "1,2,3..not fat!" catches on anyway. We should market this. This is a great idea.<br />
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a><br />
<span id="goog_1725956170"></span>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-51122961738310385072015-02-06T07:33:00.001-08:002015-02-06T09:28:21.663-08:00My Blessings in Terms of My Fem-stashe<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0m2GlcSTn7Md2dIe4YnrZ6PcXyv5B8p_tQpTJL8gQbHeMhhudqcW-FYfkG00GNxJg2jESGg9DxG_9z0cGS7HlEHIJVGAIwrnbHAAkSe6vwuPabZdy_qtel-7033ABoh7_kuhlSmV7xGJE/s1600/femstashe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0m2GlcSTn7Md2dIe4YnrZ6PcXyv5B8p_tQpTJL8gQbHeMhhudqcW-FYfkG00GNxJg2jESGg9DxG_9z0cGS7HlEHIJVGAIwrnbHAAkSe6vwuPabZdy_qtel-7033ABoh7_kuhlSmV7xGJE/s1600/femstashe.jpg" height="203" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stache-tastic</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So I am officially 38 years old.<br />
<br />
That happened. <br />
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I always assumed it would, but the older I get, the more thankful I am for each day. I never really though I'd live forever, but I've become acutely aware that many good men and women haven't survived this long. I can't help but give credit to where it's due and gives thanks to God for giving me life this long, and thank Him for my blessings. <br />
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First and for most, I should be proud of what I've achieved in life so far. I have been married 15+ years to a really good looking, caring and funny guy. I have healthy children, something for which I cannot thank God enough. I have a wonderful, supporting family. I have wonderful, fun and hilarious friends. I know I have all these things when I contemplate that real and true part of me that is my fem-stache.<br />
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I do indeed have a stache that any middle school boy would be proud to own. It's not visible in all light, but it is there none the less. In the right light, I can even see it when I look down. Envy me not, middle school lads. Your time will come.<br />
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I have a wonderful husband who lovingly tells me that I need to go back to the eye doctor because there is, in fact, no fem-stache. I am seeing things. He doesn't know what I'm talking about. Awww. Is he lying? Yes...but in this instance, I will allow it.<br />
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My young ones will one day know the daily struggle of subduing the fem-stache. Until then, I will smile and kiss their little heads when they tell me that I'm pretty even with my fuzzy lip. Awwww. Look at that...broccoli has just been added to the dinner menu. (fuzzy lip...I'm gonna <i>fuzzy lip</i> you in a minute.)<br />
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Swimming in the same gene pool means my family knows all about the fem-stache woes we must carry. We just don't talk about it. No sense in bringing up things that are just going to cause a fight on Christmas. That would be like bringing up that time my sister sat on the star tree topper, and it actually punctured her hinie to where it was hanging from her little toosh when she jumped up screaming. I mean really. Who does that?<br />
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Wait....<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLQzlGkPiOXN4aJnP_yCpIRDFirM0ImbkO6SIDQ_XzV1vV05sqGzah112EuKsfKcUTYT65bgEU-WIbA4R7aioIQf7-7SQm27qe5LoreS_HHPltlWS7EcGpDppMhO3qYEIbrUM9LK6IASa/s1600/Jamie_Hyneman_by_Superstrider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLQzlGkPiOXN4aJnP_yCpIRDFirM0ImbkO6SIDQ_XzV1vV05sqGzah112EuKsfKcUTYT65bgEU-WIbA4R7aioIQf7-7SQm27qe5LoreS_HHPltlWS7EcGpDppMhO3qYEIbrUM9LK6IASa/s1600/Jamie_Hyneman_by_Superstrider.jpg" height="320" width="294" /></a>And where you family loves you enough to shut up, you need friends who love you enough to call you out. Yes, I have friends who, in love of course, remind me to take out that blonde caterpillar<br />
under my nose with brutal force before Jamie Hyneman comes asking for his moustache back. Yeah they got jokes. But that's cool because I got 'em too. In all honesty, they just want me to be my best, and they never say anything where I'll actually be embarrassed or humiliated. They really are <i><b>good friends</b></i>. I don't have time for any other kind of friend. Remember I'm 38 years in the hole...time is precious.<br />
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Even though I will most likely be plucking and nairing this fem-stache until I'm too old care about my upper lip's Dolly Parton wig, I'm thankful for these past years and for the one yet to come. Thank you for loving me Bear, my friends, my babies, and my family. Thank you Lord for this life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQuFCtT6Ob1f4SoZUSD6NjD8QKEMyRoMAUvh2gP_3N3nM8v-jQY2I4tHaHwgp7X4yXgMP6opLSQM07B0Fe3NQr3uz_RNyNZc2t6t1BXNR1VMlHWSMIQyd8xPoO3K-7tvRejaMO2LZCOE9/s1600/pickle+head+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQuFCtT6Ob1f4SoZUSD6NjD8QKEMyRoMAUvh2gP_3N3nM8v-jQY2I4tHaHwgp7X4yXgMP6opLSQM07B0Fe3NQr3uz_RNyNZc2t6t1BXNR1VMlHWSMIQyd8xPoO3K-7tvRejaMO2LZCOE9/s1600/pickle+head+hat.jpg" /></a></div>
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And HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY PICKLEHEAD!! I am so gonna find this hat and buy it for you!</div>
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(p.s. PickleHead is my twin sis for those of you don't know. She's pretty much the best.)</div>
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-60725210500002664682015-01-21T17:34:00.000-08:002015-01-21T21:27:57.729-08:00In Honor of She Who Bore Me and Continues to Bear With Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7kBhYOw35nQXVOFOwT41HdVgElN9d60uJpjZPRd0AqPwTsedW43mQ_DqrQKthjZmOvZQ3RjgWTVyEmf3fRssIqycVVXs6ZKUl58d5-FuQUs_lYPqDdO4t8vkBIEmjqjwLtCpxMKVB-8j/s1600/happy+birthday+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJqTPQHdTYwRix4qI3aQi9psaOOkgxh104eZeAUtD8WiyBywoXNLV-Y2vOPdYAesOKjI_zgQPsNsc2tsOGkag6d_7lvl9Sp0SWuoz6lIlexKDL4vHuRy9t-gBoWglgYmRJErwhyphenhyphenR6xrjt/s1600/happy_birthday_mom_by_lunagoldeneyes-d3148qy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJqTPQHdTYwRix4qI3aQi9psaOOkgxh104eZeAUtD8WiyBywoXNLV-Y2vOPdYAesOKjI_zgQPsNsc2tsOGkag6d_7lvl9Sp0SWuoz6lIlexKDL4vHuRy9t-gBoWglgYmRJErwhyphenhyphenR6xrjt/s1600/happy_birthday_mom_by_lunagoldeneyes-d3148qy.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7kBhYOw35nQXVOFOwT41HdVgElN9d60uJpjZPRd0AqPwTsedW43mQ_DqrQKthjZmOvZQ3RjgWTVyEmf3fRssIqycVVXs6ZKUl58d5-FuQUs_lYPqDdO4t8vkBIEmjqjwLtCpxMKVB-8j/s1600/happy+birthday+mom.jpg" /></div>
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Yup! That's right! My bestest Mamma Llama ever is now 60 years old. She didn't have a big party mostly because she doesn't like that many people, and she just won't fake it. Those she loves, however, have a hero and cheerleader for life. I like how she looks at aging. The older you get, the more honest you can be because people just think you're old and crazy. Seriously, how awesome is that.</div>
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Now, those of you who know me (you lucky devils you!), have to know that I am my mothers's daughter. In honor of her fabulous life, I now impart to you some of the wisdom that she's given to me over the years. It's stuff I live by and teach my own monkeys.</div>
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1) <i><b>If you do something wrong, just own it</b></i>. Just fess up. If you didn't think it was too wrong to do in the first place, why are you ashamed now? Why blame others? Be a grown person and admit it. If you don't want people to know, then just don't do it. And if you're going to do regardless, for the love of Pete, don't take pictures! Why add proof to your burden?</div>
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2) <b><i>No matter what you're going to do in life, educate yourself so you can be the best</i></b>. Mom admits to being an education snob. Everyone should go to college. She herself has a Master's degree in Business Administration with straight A's to boot. If college isn't your thing, then whatever you put your mind to, find out everything you can about it. Be the master. Be the expert. Knowledge is power; give yourself some. As long as you keep learning, you will keep growing.</div>
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3) <i><b> Real friends love you even if you pick your nose</b></i>. Not that Mom is cool with that activity. Not. At. All. Her point is that no one is perfect, and if you have a friend that won't hang out with you because they caught you doing something like picking your nose one time, then maybe they just aren't a good friend. Everyone picks their nose from time to time. Just no flicking.</div>
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4) <b><i>You are what you wear</i></b>. I'll never forget when Mom sat us down with one of our yearbooks, and after pointing to some pictures of clothing deprived girls, she asked us what kind of girls they were. WE didn't know these girls. So she said, "Well, what have you heard? You won't get in trouble for calling names in this instance." So we said what we heard. Slut. Trashy and Cheap. B!tchy and always ready to give it up. Then she dropped the boom. </div>
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"If you don't want people who don't know you to say that about you, then dress like you respect yourself."</div>
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Will do, Mamma Llama.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTnl3c47sPQ26NSSaw6i-k0L9gvzxulK7pPNujbVOBRJbjv-C9PXOcXO74BAcTkm__KMm6bC0vVGMkgku-xePCDwtAXjXCQvUqlKqWYZkXOf2Qx6HJe8rXGf_g7-XVM2M2hzecyk4vb-U/s1600/218517_10150176348304264_784671_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTnl3c47sPQ26NSSaw6i-k0L9gvzxulK7pPNujbVOBRJbjv-C9PXOcXO74BAcTkm__KMm6bC0vVGMkgku-xePCDwtAXjXCQvUqlKqWYZkXOf2Qx6HJe8rXGf_g7-XVM2M2hzecyk4vb-U/s1600/218517_10150176348304264_784671_o.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and I are messing with Shaye...because it's fun.</td></tr>
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5) <b><i>Be kind and take the high road if at all possible</i></b>. You will always come out looking like the better more professional person. Now, this is really hard because sometimes people don't believe that you took the high road if you have a reputation for saying it like it is....which I do. I do try though, because God knows even if no one else believes it. He knows.</div>
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6) <b><i> If you can't take the high road, come up swinging and don't stop hitting until they quit moving</i></b>. Let it never be said that my mother is a wussy. It's a lie. If you truly mess with her or, even worse, those she truly loves, my mother will end you. She will chop you up, cook you in Paula Dean recipe and then serve you to your mother if she has to. She'd just rather not. Oh, but she will. She will.</div>
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7) <i><b> Be loyal to those who have earned your loyalty</b></i>. And those who have not, please drop them like a bad habit. Spend your time with those worthy of you.</div>
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8) <b><i>How you treat someone's time is truly how you think of them and vice versa</i></b>. Time is the one thing we can't get back. If someone is wasting your time, stop the madness. If you're wasting someone else's time, do the right thing and let them go. Life is too short. Be on time. Be present in the moment. Don't waste time on things that don't move your life forward.</div>
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9) <b><i>Cruelty is NOT allowed</i></b>. Being cruel to one's sibling was the most punished of crimes in my house. It was simply unacceptable. We are family like or not, and we are not animals! Mom would handcuff us together until we got along. (turns out that illegal, so y'all don't do that) If you can't be civil, go to your room until you can be. All acts of violence had to be done while Mom was at work. Better make that bruise where Mom couldn't see it. Name calling was punished. We were expected to treat people, all people, like that's what they were: people. We were not permitted to be any other way.</div>
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10) <b><i> If you don't like the way it is, fix it so that you do</i></b>. The best and most useful thing my mother taught me was to be resourceful. Look at it another way. How can you fix this problem? How can you help? How can you change it to be what you want it to be? Don't like it? That's your problem. Decide you do like it, or make it so that you like it. What do you have on hand? How can you make this work? Who can get to help you? What can you use to make do? We are the MacGyvers of world: we think, and we make it work with what we have available. By doing so, we leave people in awe. True story.</div>
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11) <b><i>You are you're own best advertising</i></b>. If you don't like you, why should anyone else? You have to sell what you've got on the shelves. Make it happen. I've been told that sometimes I come off a bit cocky. Possibly. I'm usually just trying out a new slogan, and I'm buying into the advertising. I am freakin' awesome sauce! I'm a good friend. I'm helpful and funny. I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty, and I even clean up pretty good. You want people to like you? Check out how you're marketing yourself. You might need some new copy. If you don't believe it, no one else will.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_X1V57agfdNYODG8zZUd1AUdhwKoV_Gr0T-mhWXuGiqzlkSSrznOIQSjH-wOxwiTuAdT6lIfA5qhd8io6BXF51fyvSsada6Ud7l64CVD9DubJV7mjS2otbQ9LLnEgB4Zn6-Npd4Ojsd1/s1600/10608659_10152892466954264_6908198900421660516_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_X1V57agfdNYODG8zZUd1AUdhwKoV_Gr0T-mhWXuGiqzlkSSrznOIQSjH-wOxwiTuAdT6lIfA5qhd8io6BXF51fyvSsada6Ud7l64CVD9DubJV7mjS2otbQ9LLnEgB4Zn6-Npd4Ojsd1/s1600/10608659_10152892466954264_6908198900421660516_o.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mamma, Jennie, Shaye and me at the Diva race in St. Augustine.</td></tr>
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I hope you get me a little more. My mother is truly a wonderful mother and a really great person. I'm more like my dad in personality, but there is a lot of my mom running around this head of mine... </div>
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"Get off the cross; someone else needs the wood."</div>
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"Do it right the first time...like I showed you."</div>
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"Put it in another gear!"</div>
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"If you really want it, then the work won't stop you."</div>
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"I should've raised dogs."</div>
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"Good job; we're proud of you."</div>
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"You're my favorite blonde haired daughter."</div>
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"I love you."</div>
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One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-76325953502806085452015-01-09T13:29:00.001-08:002015-01-09T13:37:48.036-08:00I Remember This One...It's that time of the year. That time when festive decorations are now in the way, and it's starts to not be so festive. And if we're honest, too much Santa in January is kinda sad. I thought as I take down the tree for another year, I'd share with you some of my favorite ornaments...actually memories. That's what the best ornaments, aren't they? <br />
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This little angel has been on the tree for as long as I can remember. My sis has a purple one. I don't know when I got it, where we lived or who gave her to me, but I do know my Christmas tree isn't complete without her.<br />
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This isn't my childhood memory; it's Bear's. His family made a bunch of wooden ornaments when he was 3 which, it so happens, was in 1977, the year of my birth. Coincidence? Probably...totally.<br />
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I have a mad love of Barbie. This is one of my favorite non-doll ornaments. Gotta love the shoes.<br />
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This is one of my center piece doll ornaments. I simply love the elegance and the colors. She has a show stopping place on my tree.<br />
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This was the ornament Bear and I bought on our honeymoon to Orlando 15 years ago. We bought it in Disney Village. We were going to get it personalized but decided against it because the line was way too long for what it was, and it cost as much as the ornament itself. I bought a sharpie and did the deed myself. I'm so MacGuyver.<br />
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I lied not when I spoke of my love for Barbie. My ma gave me almost all the ornament available during the years they were sold at Hallmark. She didn't buy the ugly ones she said. I saw them at after Christmas sales, and I found not fault in her logic. They were ugly. It was like, who approved this? Anyways...<br />
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I hold the First Christmas ornaments of my baby angels. They were all so squishy and more happy to eat the wrapping paper than play with the toys. I'm so blessed to be their mom. Most days. Every day to be honest, I just don't feel every day. I know you know what I mean.<br />
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I got this in the middle of the night at a Kohl's in Mississippi. I was Black Friday shopping with my cousin-in-law Kayse and her sisters. Those girls are no joke. They will shop until death, and then put your corpse into a cart so they can get their deals. Go big or go to bed. At any rate, I had a blast and saved a bunch of money.<br />
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This was a gift from my pre-school teaching days. A little pretty named Elizabeth gave this to me. You can change out the potpourri in the middle. Love it! So Christmasy!<br />
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My Barbie angel...how cool would it have been to be a shepherd that night?<br />
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This was made by my good friend and local artist Vicky. I stalked it at a gift exchange. I make no apologies for what I did to have it. If you're not willing to cry, you're not willing to play. All's fair in love, war, and ornament exchange parties. <br />
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Once upon a time, Eric and I were the middle school ministers at our church. The group was called Planet Next. The ornaments were meant to look like little planets. We made these at a Christmas party for the kids to take with them. Victoria made ours. Those kids are grown up now and having babies. I'm so proud of each one of them. They are still my little 11, 12 and 13 year olds in my heart... which means they are still my babies and if you were to ever mess with them, I will hunt you down though I can't say what I'd do for deniable plausibility reasons.<br />
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This one was "stolen" from a Christmas dinner the church had. I got permission to take it, but it still felt a bit naughty putting in my purse. I love my church family. They are dear, funny and they are so cool about letting people be themselves. They bless me, and I hope I bless them.<br />
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So these are just a few of my favorites. I just love Christmas. It blesses me every year to celebrate the birth of my Savior. Happy memories are a part of that. Tell me some of your happy memories of Christmas in the comments below. I can't want to hear them. Until next Christmas my old friends...until next Christmas..<br />
<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-85836603048892559992014-12-30T09:55:00.000-08:002014-12-30T10:37:53.519-08:00A New Year...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's almost 2015. It's only a day away. I'm not doing the whole New Year, New Me. I'm going to be 38. I'm hardly new, yet not quite old. I must ask myself what can I do to be a better me. If life expectancy rates still hold true, my life is half over. I must make the rest of it count, and to be honest, I'm worried.<br />
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Not for myself. I worry for my kids, for everyone's kids if I'm honest, in this day and age. I worry that we are no longer raising shepherds but sheep. Tow the line, don't make waves and just shrug your shoulders and say, "Do whatever feels right to you." Don't step in. Instead, make a video with your phone and put it on youtube. Don't disagree. Don't say no. Don't stand up and be confrontational. If you do, than you're a radical, a racist, a homophobe, a pick-a-religion-phobe, etc.<br />
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No one wants to say it, so I will. It's really not about equality anymore. Are some people still jerks about race and religion? Yup, because it's about domination not equality. This is what worries me. You would think that in this day and age, we could have one giant tea party where every race in the world, every religion in the world, social class in the world could sit down and hang out. We won't agree on everything, but we can still live at peace with the idea that that person is allowed to be wrong about that thing. But no, because your opinion HAS to be the same as mine, or you're my enemy. Enemies have to be conquered and then punished, so that everyone knows how wrong they were and what will happen to anyone if they dare disagree with me. MY opinion will dominate because it is better and therefor, unequal with yours. It's bad. <br />
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I worry about my children and their safety as they get older. Will they be victims of hate crimes because of their race or religion? Will they be victims of sex crimes because no one teaches boundaries to their kids anymore? Will they be forced to pick a god at gunpoint? Will they one day have to take a life in order to save their own? Oh yes. I worry about the state of this once great country I live in. I worry that we're letting evil stand and thrive because we're too tolerant to tell it lay down and die. I'm even a little worried about writing all of this right now.<br />
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But then I look to the Bible, the book I believe tells of the one true God. In it is a book called Ester. It's about a young woman named Ester becomes queen, though not by choice, One day, she finds out that her people and family are forbidden weapons though they are about to be slaughtered simply for being related to a guy who had a different opinion of the importance of the king's adviser. Though Ester is afraid and though it may cost her life, she stands before the king and speaks up to plead for help. Why? Because of her uncle's wise words:<br />
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"For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance from the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to a royal position for such a time as this." <i> Ester 4:14</i><br />
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For those of you who don't like the Bible, let me put it this way. It's been said that the only thing it takes for evil to persist is for good men to see it and do nothing. Are we doing nothing but make videos for youtube? Come on.<br />
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I cannot do nothing. I cannot be silent. I want a better world for everyone's kids. You don't want to believe in Jesus, then don't. I will just pray for you and move on. I won't be a jerk to you if you won't be a jerk to me. I will, however, fight for what I believe in. I believe in Jesus. I believe in courage of those who fight for our safety and freedom at home and abroad. I believe in doing my best to raise my kids to be the kind of people who can be a good friend and neighbor to anyone no matter what they look like or what they believe while standing up for themselves and what they believe as well. I believe in the United States of America and what she can be come again. I even believe that tea party could actually place if we just treated everyone the way we want to be treated.<br />
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The great evil of today is simply letting certain things dominate. Let's be truly equal.<br />
- We live in the US, if you don't want to say the pledge, in the morning don't, but the rest of us want to. Living in the US is also optional. You don't have to be here if you don't want to be. <br />
-Pray to whoever...like teachers and schools couldn't use more prayer. Like this country in general couldn't use more prayer. Just let everyone pray, not just one kind of church.<br />
- It shouldn't matter what color your skin is. It should only matter if you're jerk or not. <br />
-If you're gay, be gay. Most people really don't care. Just know that most major religions say it's not okay to be gay, so don't get mad at me. Take up the matter with the god of your choice. I didn't make that rule. It's an easy one for me to live by as I'm not attracted to woman. Now that don't be glutton rule...that one is hard. I've very attracted to cake.<br />
- And if someone wants to know more about us and what we believe, they'll ask. We don't have to push anything on anyone, and we certainly shouldn't be killing them if they don't want to be like us.<br />
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So in this new year, and every other year I happen to be on this earth for, I will be better by standing up and being proud of who I am. I'm not wrong for being born in the US, white, Christian, straight or female. I just am as I am. I will continue to educate myself, admit when I'm wrong and fight for those who can't fight for themselves. I will not apologize for living my life boldly, and I know that I have been put on this earth for such a time as this. <br />
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-80186023859253489352014-11-18T10:36:00.001-08:002014-12-30T10:00:04.282-08:00How I Expressed My Sexual FreedomI bet everyone is all what is she doing now?<br />
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Hahahahahaha!<br />
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I've seen two blogs recently. One on why one girl wasn't happy she waited until marriage for sex and another expressing that waiting was the best choice she ever made. And these blogs honestly inspired me to share my story. It might not be what you think.<br />
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If you're thinking that Jesus Freak waited until marriage for sex, you'd be right. If you think it's all because of my belief in Jesus, you'd be wrong.<br />
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I asked my mom once, "Who has sex?" She said, "Married people." I think it was a short and sweet answer that wasn't a lie to make the little person to go away. I do remember thinking, "Well, I'm not married so that's not me." <br />
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Then I got to high school, and I kinda wanted to do that thing that married people do, BUT I was completely terrified of getting pregnant the first time. That kept my knees closed. Then, I had classmates telling me their first time tales: they were horror stories. None of that sounded like fun or a good idea. Some were so drunk, they weren't even sure it happened. I remember thinking, "This sex stuff ain't for me." I don't remember lying about having done it or not. I was pretty okay with people knowing my virgin status. It didn't seem like it should matter to them. <br />
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Probably because it shouldn't.<br />
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Then at 17, I became a Christian. Not supposed to have sex until marriage? Sweet. Now I have a built in excuse for not wanting to see you naked. Not saying I wasn't curious or that I didn't have urges. I was and I did. I just wasn't willing to act on them because I knew I wasn't ready for all of what sex was going to bring to the table.<br />
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Then I went to college, and everyone was having sex. All the time. Everywhere. Dorm 68 was filled with other people's genetic filth. Yeah. That happened. That experience more than anything else convinced me that I wanted to wait until marriage. Everyone was free to have all the sex they wanted, and not one of them really seemed happy or fulfilled by it. I was free to say no to all the sex they had to offer, and I was plenty happy and just fine.<br />
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Plus, sex is weird. I mean, it's natural and all that, but it's way weird. There's naked, and limbs, and awkward and messiness and where-do-you-think-you're-putting-that and...it's just weird. Why did I have to say yes to this after 3 dates when the guy doesn't even know how I like my coffee? I don't think so. I didn't even want to walk in your dorm room without shoes on. I'm not touching you naked; Goodness knows what's on your skin. <br />
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I didn't want that kind of sex.<br />
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I didn't want to be a one night stand and have someone use my body for masturbation. Be honest. That's what one night stands are. I didn't want to use someone like that either. I didn't want to be a booty call because I wasn't worth the energy of forming a relationship. I didn't want all the crap feelings that come with a sexual relationship that ends. I didn't want all the crap feelings that came with having sex with someone outside of marriage when I was suppose to be a good Christian girl who waits for marriage. Biggest shocker: I didn't want to have a baby all by myself. I saw it everyday. All of it sucked. None of it was something I wanted or needed in my life. <br />
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I expressed my sexual freedom by saying I want to have sex...but only with someone who wants to sex with me and only me. Someone who is willing to actually know everything (especially all the crazy and there is at least a 5 gallon bucket of that in the closet) me before doing the most intimate and weirdest thing you can do someone with me. I wanted someone who was in it for the long haul. Someone who is willing to wait and promise their utter devotion for life before sex. That's a tall order. (Good thing he's a tall guy...high five for me!)<br />
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That meant I didn't date a lot. Of course, it also told me what guys really wanted. Many times it wasn't witty conversation. That's okay. I liked knowing where I stood even though I often stood alone. Even though I got made fun of. Even though sometimes it didn't feel worth it.<br />
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It was worth it. Waiting was worth it because I have a man who would take me without sex. He would, and I don't care if you don't believe it. I lived up to my own standards. I lived up to God's standards. I was, and still am, sexually free. Free to say no because I didn't want to. I am now free to say I only want to have sex with my husband, and I am free to do so with said husband whenever I want to. We have a license to practice.<br />
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Just one more thing. This is my experience. My life. You don't have to like or agree with my choices. I don't have to like or agree with yours. We can agree to disagree.<br />
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Just don't expect me to celebrate your slow descent into Hell. <br />
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I'M JUST KIDDING! Although, some of you might think this is how I think. Not true.<br />
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In reality, your sex life is between you and God. Take it up with Him. It's none of my business. I can tell you the decisions I'd like you to make because I think they are what's best, but I can't tell what or who to do in real life. It's not my life. It's yours. You have to answer for it, not me. And truth be told, I honestly don't want to know the details. Just know that I love you no matter what. True story. You know what else is true?<br />
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Waiting is worth it.<br />
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-34856024654666188882014-10-24T08:11:00.002-07:002014-10-24T13:02:24.636-07:00Guard. Your. Pearls.Here is something I want everyone who reads this to understand. Truly understand as truth as much as water is wet, the sky is blue and grass is green. Whether you believe in God or not, it doesn't matter because true is true. This is something that will only better your life, so hear me now.<br />
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Guard your pearls well. Very well.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWixXjFwEdB-cRvdPOAS5nM-mjg2ZzadAuki0StJpVwwRkhElO5_YqqlUDCC4zm-FD5wmYGalilSah7ahRN_n3vI1YcLwSzc5uoZJPe9Fyo55fS4GzwkpGbMp9ALAPhB0k5T0tN_ldspo/s1600/pearls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWixXjFwEdB-cRvdPOAS5nM-mjg2ZzadAuki0StJpVwwRkhElO5_YqqlUDCC4zm-FD5wmYGalilSah7ahRN_n3vI1YcLwSzc5uoZJPe9Fyo55fS4GzwkpGbMp9ALAPhB0k5T0tN_ldspo/s1600/pearls.jpg" height="299" width="400" /></a>I'll tell you why.</div>
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Before I tell you why, let me tell what a pearl is. Your pearls are all the precious things about you. All those things that make you amazing, shiny and beautiful. You know it's a pearl because it has to be pried out of you at times, and you're not comfortable just letting any and everyone see it. Your tenderness for animals. Your love of the sound of baby laughter. Your obsession with organic farming. Your gullibility with people you trust. Your belief in God. Your virginity. Your sense of humor. Your hopes and dreams. Your fears and insecurities. Your victories. Your failures. Your <i style="font-weight: bold;">you.</i> All of your good stuff, and you <b>do</b> have good stuff. You have a treasure in your soul. Not everyone is worthy to see it.<br />
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And because not everyone is worthy to see them is why you guard your pearls. Pigs don't know what pearls are. They don't care either. They only want for themselves. It's very safe to say that many of you know what I'm saying right now because we did throw our pearls before swine, and we were trampled on and torn apart. Maybe we were the pigs ourselves. I can think of two times when I know I didn't see pearls for what they were. I am deeply sorry for it. I've also been torn apart by not being careful with my pearls.<br />
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I can tell you right now that there are very few people in this world who have seen all my pearls because quite frankly I just don't trust people. Not right away. Sometimes not ever. Show me how well you keep your precious things, and then we'll see. <br />
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One of the big reasons I married my husband is that he always makes me feel beautiful. He's not even trying to get into my pants...usually. (sorry..just sayin') He is a very good steward of me. I work very hard to be a safe harbor for him. I have a friend in Alabama I haven't seen in 3 years, but I would be willing to bet that she is still as she ever was which is one of the best friends I've ever had, and I will<b><i> always</i></b> be grateful to know her generous and forgiving heart. I have 4 more friends in various states, OH, CA, VA and Orlando (If you haven't been to Orlando, trust me, it's a state all it's own with Mickey Mouse as it's benevolent dictator.) with whom I trust with my life..even my kids. My sister and cousins-in-laws were truly born for my times of contention. I'm not sure there are any in this world that would fight harder for me. And I am blessed beyond measure to have friends down the street, around the corner, and just down Scenic Highway with whom I can do every day life without fear of judgement for stupid mistakes or for just being Jen.<br />
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Don't put your pearls on display. Keep them hidden. Guard them well. Those who really want them will go diving and searching for them. They will risk cutting themselves trying to pry them out of you. They will see the value of you because they are willing to bleed for you. That's big. Way big.<br />
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I leave you with this reminder: <span style="background-color: #ffe599;">You have a treasure in your soul.</span> Treat it as such. Give pigs the slop they want. Save the pearls for princes and princesses who will take very good care of them. You are worth the dive. You are worth the work. You are amazingly precious. And <i>that</i> right there is as true as water is wet, the sky is blue and the grass is green.<br />
<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-53721028904398347022014-10-22T08:40:00.002-07:002014-10-22T08:45:29.424-07:00Crafty Lady: Project 1: Felt Leaf GarlandI know this is a one week and one day late, but I couldn't get the pictures to download for love nor money. So my Local Viking was going to take a look, and I was sitting there and saying the words, "Look, it won't download." the pictures immediately download. He just looks at me and says you're welcome.....shut up.<br />
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Anyway, today's project isn't necessary hard, but it is a bit time consuming depending on what you how long you want to make your garland or how perfect you want to cut out your leaves. What you need is the following: Yarn, a needle big enough to thread yarn, felt in different colors, scissors.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"> Yarn, a needle big enough to thread yarn, felt in different colors, scissors.</span></td></tr>
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1) Use you scissors to cut out your leaves in what ever leaf shape or color you like. I just free hand cut basic leaf shapes.<br />
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2) Cut a piece of yarn to your desired length. 7 to 10 feet is a good length. Take measurements first if you're unsure. Tie a knot in one end of the yarn, and thread the needle with the other.<br />
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3) After threading your needle, begin to sew through the leaf in a basic running or basting stitch. Some felt is pretty thick, so this step can be more difficult that you think it should be. Just a heads up.<br />
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4) After you've sewn through the whole leaf, slide it down your length of yarn a couple inches shy of the knot. Repeat step 3 and 4 until you've run out of room for more leaves.</div>
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5) Tie a knot in the other end. Sit back and be all proud of yourself for being awesome. <br />
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Hope you have some fun with fall with this one. Let me know what you think. Leave me some feed back as to what kind of projects you'd like to see. </div>
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One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-88435007077251365352014-10-17T09:21:00.002-07:002014-10-17T09:36:56.636-07:00I mean....come on...honestlySo I realize that people are not always good at priorities. It happens. I have to admit though that I feel we as humans aren't doing such a great job. And it's just getting a bit out of control. Here's what I mean.<br />
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We worry about how much people like our posts on any given social media, but we're not supposed to care about what people think of us in person. As a matter of fact, we should act however we need to act to get what we want right now.<br />
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We worry about not offending anyone because we don't want people to think badly about us even if it means taking unjustified abuse from someone who thinks badly of you for whatever reason.<br />
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We judge each other's parenting decisions regardless of the actual outcome, (i.e. a decent person has raised) because we have the correct way. <b>The only way</b>! We know the truth, and your kid is going to jail. We have more grace for religious differences than we do parenting differences. It's madness.<br />
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And speaking of judging... no judging allowed. It doesn't matter if you rape cats while murdering old ladies, no one can tell you you're wrong. Common sense is in very short supply, but if you have a bit, please don't share Judgy Judgerpants.<br />
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We fret about diseases from everywhere around the world. But we still don't lock our front and car doors. Yes, viral epidemics happen, but if we all just wash our hands and use some tissue, we will most likely be just fine. I guess it's easier to worry about viruses than to lock our doors.<br />
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We won't buy a chicken sandwich from a fast food joint that has an employee that doesn't agree with gay marriage, but we buy gas from and support the economy of nations that hunt down gay people and kill them in horrific ways.<br />
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We rail against, well anyone and anything that has fattening food, but we don't lay the responsibility of the over indulging of such food at the eaters feet where it belongs. If it wasn't available, we wouldn't it. Guess what? If it didn't make money from you buying it, it wouldn't be available. Capitalism baby.<br />
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And because I can, guns don't kill you. They are simple machines that can do nothing unless operated. If guns kill people, then forks make you fat. Cups make you drunk. Wrenches make you fix cars. Shoes make you walk. Glue guns make you craft. It's all the same.<br />
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Priorities. I'm just saying. I hope you like this post, but if you don't, you can't judge me and I don't care what you think anyway. If your mom raised you the <i>correct</i> way, this wouldn't be an issue. Now, go wash your hands germ spreader. <br />
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-44647122642125526252014-10-09T07:55:00.001-07:002014-10-09T08:04:22.750-07:00And Now I KnowSomething has been missing in my life, and I figured out what it is. It's this. It's just writing about about what's going on in my life. Apparently, it's part of my self care. I am going to make Friday my check in day. Tuesday will be craft day. Maybe you'll be inspired. Maybe you'll be inspired to pay me to make it for you too. That could happen. You never know.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5T3PwL8AxTbogf9GidM9rFRTYCLX5w2F_ijoGB_W9sGg__PIPiT_jBWOkz0v3e7-bbEB6dvTaP-TNeYRo_DYGU1g_phG7yiR8LAKih7C4r30cYP8p7hWOldm0ZiCfVy8z7-2hE0pcAM7T/s1600/ShriekingEels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5T3PwL8AxTbogf9GidM9rFRTYCLX5w2F_ijoGB_W9sGg__PIPiT_jBWOkz0v3e7-bbEB6dvTaP-TNeYRo_DYGU1g_phG7yiR8LAKih7C4r30cYP8p7hWOldm0ZiCfVy8z7-2hE0pcAM7T/s1600/ShriekingEels.jpg" height="200" width="164" /></a></div>
So. Today ain't so great. I'm not dead, so I'm not done. I am adrift in Tween Lake, and I can very much hear the Shrieking Eels swimming below. I don't know what to do. I don't know how I fell out of the boat. I don't know why I can't seem to get through to my kid. To sum up: I don't know the $#%^$ I'm doing, and it's really freaking me out. <br />
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I have Jesus on speed dial. He talks me of the ledge all day long. Usually He reminds me that murder is on the Top 10 Hey That's Really Bad list. He uses the humor in movie quotes such as the Riddler in Batman: "If you kill 'im, he won't learn nothin'." He uses my sister who reminds me that blood stains never really go away and do I really want that kind of clean up because no one else will pick it up. It's going to be all me. He uses my friends who assure me that though prison might have cable, they have really bad arts and crafts. I am almost ashamed to admit that the bad arts and crafts is what usually saves my baby girl's life. I need to pray more.<br />
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I don't like this lake. It sucks. The water is cold, slimy and somehow feels like failure. I know how amazing she really is. I wish she could see what I see. I wish she knew how beautiful, smart, creative and funny she actually is without trying so hard to be cool. I'm just trying so hard to hold my head above water. Just do a girl a solid and pray for us. We need it.<br />
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I'm hoping next week will bring back the Pollyanna Jen we all know and love. Right now, I'm going to Zumba on the Wii even though they judge you so harsh...so harsh.<br />
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Have a great weekend and know that I haven't lost hope. I will never lose hope that my children will end up on the right path somehow, some way, some day. They are my heartbeats. That's probably why it hurts so much when they stop dancing and start stomping. It's a very good thing Jesus is my breath. Though my heart my crack, with Him breathing life in me every second of every day, it won't stop. It will beat on. I will always love them. Even in these unfamiliar and dark waters.<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-86074504712300599552014-07-28T07:21:00.000-07:002014-07-28T09:52:44.271-07:00When Middle School Haunts YouYou know, when you're just minding your own, and some one tells you about this great get together they had with a bunch of mutual friends...the get together you knew nothing about. Now, you are a grown person. You know that you will not be able to go to every event. You know you won't be invited to every event. You know that people can't always invite you to every event for various reasons. You know that you can't make people invite you even if you want to go to the event. You are usually quite adult about it, and carry on with your life in a rather grown up fashion despite the fact you still chew up food before sticking your tongue out at your sister.<br />
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But not today. Today, Poof! The Specter of Middle School has appeared right behind you. Why he chose today, who knows? All you know, is that right now you feel like you did in middle school. Just not cool enough. Just a little too awkward and geektastic to be invited. Your feelings are hurt, and you feel rejected and very much left out.<br />
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Now, on top of all this you're feeling foolish because Grown Up You is fighting with this blast from the past, telling it all the reasons why it doesn't matter that you weren't there. In the end, all the Specter can say, with sad and honest eyes, is "It matters because it does."<br />
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Boom. There it is. It matters because in that moment, for whatever reason, you are not your adult self. You're that middle school kid trying to figure out where you belong and what you're all about. It simply matters because it does.<br />
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I'm sure to regain my footing as Grown Up Jen by lunch time. Until then, Middle School Jen will be at war with Grown Up Jen. Middle School Jen will contend that if only she were smaller, quieter, prettier, funnier,thinner, add an -er to everything maybe she would be invited too. Grown Up Jen maintains her position that anyone who want her to be more than she already is can suck it. They lost out, not her, and if they are too stupid to want her jar of awesome sauce at their party, they just don't know what's good.<br />
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In the end, the reason this Specter pops up is that everyone wants to feel sought after. <i> We</i> want<i> you</i> to hang out with<i> us</i>. No one wants to be left out, or, even worse, have to invite themselves. This is why people make an anthem of songs like "Raise Your Glass" by Pink. People don't like us so screw them; we'll be awesome by ourselves...that's the basic message. Grown Up Jen is definitely on the rally because she thinks that's a bit dramatic, and she would know.<br />
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Sigh. If your Middle School Specter is haunting you today, know that this too shall pass. Remember that the King of Kings has an open invitation for you any time, any day. Also remember that around my way, as long as you are kind and respectful, you are always welcome. You are always invited.<br />
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Unless you're a vampire...I've seen the Lost Boys...I know things...<br />
<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-41923354549976168912014-06-19T08:19:00.002-07:002014-06-19T08:27:30.893-07:00TV Stay-cation location: Miami<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzhyphenhyphen8SUrzrSRcLL5hbw8yYqt7R2gR32j71ykv_Hyr1R6NbjEfevQZAYZMMRrpu6UZsGCUrnD1T-qeasqt7B4MBMnaUw3o6e3W1U6E4oRpLU-joZNnQhgkLv_agT1Z5IaFiFOqRhp5GU3K/s1600/miami).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzhyphenhyphen8SUrzrSRcLL5hbw8yYqt7R2gR32j71ykv_Hyr1R6NbjEfevQZAYZMMRrpu6UZsGCUrnD1T-qeasqt7B4MBMnaUw3o6e3W1U6E4oRpLU-joZNnQhgkLv_agT1Z5IaFiFOqRhp5GU3K/s1600/miami).jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miami, FL ... or so says Google</td></tr>
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It's summer, and who doesn't want to travel. Given the stress of travel, probably a lot of people, but that's what makes TV so great. You don't have to travel to experience a new place; all you need is a TV show in a location you want to visit. You won't have to even leave your comfy place.<br />
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Check out what I learned watching CSI: Miami<br />
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1) Miami, as a city, is really shiny.<br />
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2) Every person in Miami has a bathing suit ready body and loves to flaunt it at the beach and/or pool. Healthy foods and exercise must be paramount there. I haven't seen one average sized person yet. No muffin tops. No muu-muus. Just really hot skinny girls in bikinis. Also, going by how many guys are shown verses girls, there are a lot more women than men in Miami. Babe fest, fellas.<br />
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2) Speaking of average, to work in law enforcement, you have to be above average in the looks department. Pretty boys and girls only please! The gathering of evidence can only be done with faces of beauty. That's why their solve rate is so high.<br />
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3) Not only are CSI personal to be good looking, they must be impervious to extreme heat so that they can wear pants, long sleeves and jackets at all times. They don't even sweat. They are miracles of nature really. I don't know if the same is true of all professionals in Miami, but the lawyers seem pretty unfazed and unsweaty as well. <br />
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4) The problem is a good CSI in Miami has to be a hot mess somehow. They all have personal drama. It can be exhausting, but hey, that's how you find killers: by working through your problems that have nothing to do with crime. I did NOT know that until this show. Fascinating.<br />
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5) Nature, however, expresses how hot IT is by making even the very air yellow. That's why every thing looks yellow in outside shots. However, AC inside buildings makes things more purplish. Miami is a place of wonder.<br />
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6) Wild life near Miami will only attack you if you're dead, dying or trying to dump a body.<br />
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7) If you go for a romantic walk on the beach, you will find a dead body.<br />
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8) Also, if you go fishing or hiking you will find a dead body or that the fish you caught ate a body.<br />
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9) This stay-cation location is a good idea because if you go there, you're going to be killed either as an innocent bystander or because of your various illegal activities. One of the two.<br />
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10) Lots of dead things end up in Miami, and beautiful hot messes figure out why.<br />
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And there you have it. Everything you need to know about Miami courtesy of CSI: Miami. I'd love to visit in real life, but I gotta work on my beach body first! Hehehehehe!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyc9aBSC3Fgez78YPt9Zv9RooJqLo2YHdMMnR2EFN1oojmgWGSv_ggrm9qkXkEB0eEIIzGMAnuOfkkT7mmh6SwTb_rnJWizgRMClnVwFXslmaXuHOeAB9NFoxgH20frerM46iiHLOdr_E/s1600/20140301_132340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyc9aBSC3Fgez78YPt9Zv9RooJqLo2YHdMMnR2EFN1oojmgWGSv_ggrm9qkXkEB0eEIIzGMAnuOfkkT7mmh6SwTb_rnJWizgRMClnVwFXslmaXuHOeAB9NFoxgH20frerM46iiHLOdr_E/s1600/20140301_132340.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-44308983704869361512014-06-06T11:09:00.000-07:002014-06-06T11:11:16.337-07:00Thanks for Bearing With Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzKmq13M6VvxPxAd5jPsWOS8oGGk36m-zzeSkX8RrnayFZnnuBmgaIbdBdtDrDzXj7lBLBKYXaiA7hxs0q_52Vhvw9490e_ReQL392xZwrI9LZl4-R8scYSr4HwHgyhAXDof-i3xZU9EC/s1600/thanks_729-620x349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzKmq13M6VvxPxAd5jPsWOS8oGGk36m-zzeSkX8RrnayFZnnuBmgaIbdBdtDrDzXj7lBLBKYXaiA7hxs0q_52Vhvw9490e_ReQL392xZwrI9LZl4-R8scYSr4HwHgyhAXDof-i3xZU9EC/s1600/thanks_729-620x349.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
And I truly mean that from the bottom of my heart. It's been a rough few months, but they've also been very beneficial for us a family. We moved to a new home that might be smaller but much more us somehow. The only real problem is outside bugs keep getting in. While this helps with my weigh loss efforts (bugs make me physically ill), it's really gross. We got some professionals coming by. Praise be.<br />
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We have each of the girls going to new schools next year. All of them in their own school. This could get interesting. Middle Miss will be in summer school as she didn't pass the FCAT; yeah, this is going to be fun. I think my thoughts would be best expressed by the words of Wayne from the movie Wayne's World:<br />
"Sh-haaa, and monkeys might fly out of my butt." In other words, I anticipate trouble. I pray that I'm wrong.<br />
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In other big and really good news. Big Miss doesn't need back surgery for her scoliosis. She's also taller than me..5'11" at 11 years old. Totally normal. I love my Amazonian baby.<br />
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All in all, though the waters were rough, we landed in a safe harbor. God is good, and He's been very good to us. Once again, no matter what He has put before us, we have come through because He never leaves us. You may serve other gods or no god at all, but as for me and my merry band of Amazons, nutter-butters, and LARPers, we will serve the Lord. I highly recommend it. That and Godiva chocolate.<br />
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That's good too.<br />
<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-63691437589261860882014-04-22T06:50:00.001-07:002014-04-22T06:50:11.832-07:00Why I Need Your Grace For at Least a Month or So<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi067qyQ9guTfSu4PR_UpFwu75Z6R-x1Gt6C63P0fkeiZxL80QcEXOVcdOXfDUWAKUbaKW-Rv1EXqxoVsBkBizKIkoJe98Hf7Xi-Y9gYBAzWB6HsZTUMBwct4kAtFYvc5bONA6r3peH8hHf/s1600/overwhelmed2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi067qyQ9guTfSu4PR_UpFwu75Z6R-x1Gt6C63P0fkeiZxL80QcEXOVcdOXfDUWAKUbaKW-Rv1EXqxoVsBkBizKIkoJe98Hf7Xi-Y9gYBAzWB6HsZTUMBwct4kAtFYvc5bONA6r3peH8hHf/s1600/overwhelmed2.jpeg" height="256" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this about explains it...</td></tr>
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And so...<br />
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Sigh...<br />
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The Bible says all things are possible with God. It says this because there are times. Times like right now. Times when it's just too much. Too much crap.<br />
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It's been one of the those few weeks where you are presented with info to "think" about, but in a blink of an eye, you have to make a decision and NOW! Right NOW! And the decisions are not easy and have consequences that overlap my own self and into the lives of my family. The actions cost money, change, loss and require a lot of work. The work isn't just now, but will continue in through the summer into the next school year. The loss will effect the girls and Bear alike. I'm not too thrilled, but I think I'm managing it better. And all of this is to happen in the next month.<br />
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My brain is on overload. I'm forgetting even the simplest things. I'm staring at people I've known for years and wondering what their name might be. I'm forgetting things I need to get done for work. And laundry...dear me, it's like I've never done it a day in my life. I wish that was a joke.<br />
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I know I will get through all this because I'm doing this with God thus making it possible. I know it will pass. So while my plate is so full that it's spilling over, please keep passing me glasses of encouragement and grace. I need it friends. I need it. One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-27034750513451550062014-02-17T09:59:00.001-08:002014-02-17T09:59:49.532-08:00Hear Me, Pin-Masters of the Universe!Oh the fabu that is Pinterest! <div>
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I literally do not know anyone who doesn't know about this site. It's a great site and a great tool. I've used recipes and projects and color schemes. If you haven't checked this site out yet (due to, I don't know, alien abduction or a coma or something), check it out. It's super fun.</div>
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There is a dark side of Pinterest though. It comes in the expectations that can arise. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6tP1Ay3MweOsycOD4OQNL9XA-sLoptRitvpXcHAk2iLUhTH_poZDXRnD_rDQcjB_T-5X1a5zsibmvBaZe-dNHrZK7S22SjEzLicqwWgb3aYm_F3rsEdmM1mY9k4ZN2Zw9BbafVxNs3pm/s1600/lace+jar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6tP1Ay3MweOsycOD4OQNL9XA-sLoptRitvpXcHAk2iLUhTH_poZDXRnD_rDQcjB_T-5X1a5zsibmvBaZe-dNHrZK7S22SjEzLicqwWgb3aYm_F3rsEdmM1mY9k4ZN2Zw9BbafVxNs3pm/s1600/lace+jar.jpg" height="200" width="166" /></a>With this pin, I shall become a DYI goddess, and all shall bow before me in my photo glazing, glue gun toting, upcycling, mason jar beautifying glory! I shall have girly cuteness in a jar, and all will stand in awe and amazement. There will be no shocking lack of lace! I shall be remembered as the Conquering Diva of Spray Paint and Craft Paper! I will be loved! I will be talked about in a good way even if I have poppy seeds in my teeth! I will be...victorious!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX1ii3wGkHhJSHMkYm8yEwraWL-xoDbBJcWF6sN1BCoCOTA96axdLVQgfo4h7W5hAu8OwvKTy5WmshxdfGdvp0mfnXv41CqI67vlQrWc2ZpuY0sp6tqpbXz8gQ0tjd-vv0F1LkfrGkBBB/s1600/nailed+it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX1ii3wGkHhJSHMkYm8yEwraWL-xoDbBJcWF6sN1BCoCOTA96axdLVQgfo4h7W5hAu8OwvKTy5WmshxdfGdvp0mfnXv41CqI67vlQrWc2ZpuY0sp6tqpbXz8gQ0tjd-vv0F1LkfrGkBBB/s1600/nailed+it.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>This might seem like I'm being dramatic, I'm finding that I'm not off the mark. I host a weekly gathering of crafters at my home. We drink coffee and talk more than we make, and it's really a great girl time. How is this relevant? I've had several women tell me they can't craft (not that you need to come on over) and they can't even do the stuff on Pinterest. Okay. I hear you. But let me give all you would be craft-masters-but-I'm-afraid-I'll-suck people out there a little truth in love. </div>
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You are going to suck on your first try. Unless you have an untapped gift, your first project or first attempt at a new hobby, is going to lack luster at best. That's not bad or failure. That's just real life. Cut yourself some slack. Real masterful works are not made in microwaves. They are tried and true recipes that have gone through transformations, survive mistakes and are slow cooked to perfection. Don't quit before you begin. Don't let delusions of grandeur muddle your vision of reality. Give it go, don't be scared to mess up and remember the best advice I've ever heard given by a cartoon character to date as seen below.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAYMs4vy_i-yQ8dVWNDDcHwGjCkBx8EtNkLx3f_oTng-y0flHe0EkpelXg57vL4fGQv3l-B6ZQWhEL-tqxpC-kvgF2s7Usvr4KzG41coMJAPlTJCwlugBs2yjs9uYB0nmDjCV7bMIlxpK/s1600/how-to-be-good-at-something-hd-wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAYMs4vy_i-yQ8dVWNDDcHwGjCkBx8EtNkLx3f_oTng-y0flHe0EkpelXg57vL4fGQv3l-B6ZQWhEL-tqxpC-kvgF2s7Usvr4KzG41coMJAPlTJCwlugBs2yjs9uYB0nmDjCV7bMIlxpK/s1600/how-to-be-good-at-something-hd-wallpaper.jpg" height="224" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This quote is from the cartoon Adventure Time and said by Jake.</td></tr>
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True story. Plus, not <i>every</i> project is a first timers project. Photo shop works wonders. Do you really think a non-artist painted those nails? A chef with several degrees in culinary school made that dinner plate, and if you're a Hamburger Helper Hottie, it might a struggle for you. Just because it's on Pinterest and you can't do it doesn't mean you suck at all things crafty. Come on, now.</div>
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It, however, might mean that you don't <i>enjoy</i> the crafty craftness, but rather, you relish the <i>idea</i> of being a crafty crafter. I would like to be an awesome cook, but I dislike cooking most seriously. I only pin recipes I might actually make one day. Maybe....maybe... I digress. If you don't like it, who cares? Have your crafty friend make it for you in exchange for dinner. I know I'd take that deal over door #2. </div>
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Bottom line: Pinterest is great, but what projects you can't do, doesn't define you....however those dirty jokes you pinned do...sinner. ;)<br /><a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a></div>
One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-49178098061323928612014-01-27T14:38:00.001-08:002014-01-27T14:38:53.209-08:00SNOW DAY!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqc6XaVT4-TVYAiJbhaAd6eNVqZf7m2ESVspIaX9opwX20m8d2rrk3W95mtVuJdbAL4oWgZUUsrIAAmeXDV08UBwX3Rvk2YZudh9u5foO3stDrFQuLJ4PtY_KZJKKRhYbx0P6uFdPGzf8/s1600/dsnow+in+fl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqc6XaVT4-TVYAiJbhaAd6eNVqZf7m2ESVspIaX9opwX20m8d2rrk3W95mtVuJdbAL4oWgZUUsrIAAmeXDV08UBwX3Rvk2YZudh9u5foO3stDrFQuLJ4PtY_KZJKKRhYbx0P6uFdPGzf8/s1600/dsnow+in+fl.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
I know what you're thinking. It's winter; snow days are not unheard of. Well, they are in FL my good friends. I'm also starting the think FL is bipolar. It's 67 degrees today and ice and snow tomorrow? It's time to get some meds. I think FL should keep an open mind about this. I'll let it go for now.<br />
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I can't help but be excited and amused about all the hub-bub. Of course, this isn't the type of weather we prepare for in winter here. We do get out the cotton gloves, beanies and groovy scarves made by people with more talented in artfully tangling sheep wool than ourselves. But that's about as far as she goes. Humidity and hurricanes we can handle. Snow? That's crazy sauce. The Sunshine State doesn't do snow.<br />
<br />
You can tell by the way local Wal-Marts are quickly becoming the 4th level of hell.<br />
<br />
I am hoping that all this is for something. How cool would a snowball fight in FL be? Crazy, amazing cool! It's so rare that I would just love to have that memory with my girls. It's hard to just have crazy fun anymore. You really have to fight for it, or wait for a freak snowstorm in FL. It's gonna be good. Cold, but good. If the ice crystals reign down, you can be there will be pictures. And hot cocoa. and marshmellows. and maybe a hot viking by a roaring fire...whoa...I digress.....<br />
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-49910941439664376942013-12-19T07:14:00.002-08:002013-12-19T08:54:29.950-08:00For Those Who Want to Take Christmas Back From the Grinch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzGDnn_IWGaJMk41Q31YpBDCKlr6QVlIA9occ_Gr3V_PnKGk8UQiNIMhGrMj3e0Mv6UnOGl9LMt0kn1qLaNKoZQeNU-HCXCYBojdMhbkGqo2Op1A6AOb8tVGR7D6lCwt87hU8bOVTu9Td/s1600/grinch+and+cindy+lou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzGDnn_IWGaJMk41Q31YpBDCKlr6QVlIA9occ_Gr3V_PnKGk8UQiNIMhGrMj3e0Mv6UnOGl9LMt0kn1qLaNKoZQeNU-HCXCYBojdMhbkGqo2Op1A6AOb8tVGR7D6lCwt87hU8bOVTu9Td/s320/grinch+and+cindy+lou.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This year more then warm weather is making Christmas hard to feel.<br />
Fifteen minutes of famers want to make Christmas no big deal.<br />
The problem is, O Grinchy ones., it's a very big deal to<br />
All us Jesus freaky Christians, even if it's not to you.<br />
<br />
It is the day we celebrate that our Lord and Savior was born.<br />
But instead of celebrating, we find ourselves torn<br />
Between being politically polite or making a show<br />
Of loudly saying "Merry Christmas!" where ever we go.<br />
<br />
Most of us don't want to fuss; we don't want to fight<br />
We don't want to argue about who's left or who's right<br />
We just want to show our joy that Jesus came down<br />
To this earth for us sinners, idiots, wankers and clowns<br />
<br />
Because THAT is for us, is how Christmas is defined.<br />
Doing something for someone just be kind<br />
To be selfless and giving and loving even though, even when<br />
We may get nothing back but the finger and "To hell with ya then."<br />
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It's about how we believe and are thankful our God is so big<br />
That He would send His son to die so that we would live.<br />
A gift so precious and inspiring, though you may not believe it,<br />
Is one we cannot help but sing about and celebrate as we receive it.<br />
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Yes, we do give gifts to show our love for each other on this day<br />
We'd give them to Jesus, but it's all His anyway.<br />
To Christians who believe in the Bible this day is holy.<br />
We shouldn't have to fight for our Christmas in the land of the free.<br />
<br />
And therefor, I tell you right now where I stand.<br />
As a former grinch, I began to understand that<br />
No, you can't stop Christmas by banning carols at the mall<br />
You can't keep it from coming by not saying "Merry Christmas" at all<br />
<br />
You can take way the colors of red and of green.<br />
You can take away our depictions of the Nativity scene.<br />
You can take way the lights that sparkle on our shacks.<br />
But you won't stop Christmas because it won't be held back.<br />
<br />
You can take away gifts and keep your holiday trees<br />
You can keep your mall santas that smell of beef and cheese<br />
You can say all you want that Christmas offends you and you hate it<br />
Because like that, you lose the meaning when you translate it.<br />
<br />
Try to hear me now and understand what I say<br />
Christmas is something you'll never take away.<br />
Because it's not in bags with tissue paper or boxes with bows<br />
It's deep in my heart and deep in the hearts of those<br />
<br />
Who shout "Yahoo doray! Welcome Christmas Day!"<br />
So if you don't believe in God, to you, all I can say<br />
Is that is up to you; believe or not. You don't answer to me.<br />
But you won't shut me up about Jesus; we'll have to agree to disagree<br />
<br />
So if you believe in Jesus and want to celebrate His birth,<br />
Do it joyfully! Do good for others and spread kindness on His earth.<br />
To all you grinchy hearts, to you I say Merry Christmas to you and yours!<br />
Yahoo Doray! Yahoo Doray! Jesus Christ is born!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsHltCPCJybljdr7QiwOeHtisMnkgK4t7g4qAjJ4FFN40NEkFE1UkOaPJd3ib5ickpiLqavktm26YkkuQSw5ia7mC6rRkeBp_Tq2kJUc5V_ExorSP9YWR1skl6z6lNvDM1LkKXILRvgux/s1600/who's+singing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsHltCPCJybljdr7QiwOeHtisMnkgK4t7g4qAjJ4FFN40NEkFE1UkOaPJd3ib5ickpiLqavktm26YkkuQSw5ia7mC6rRkeBp_Tq2kJUc5V_ExorSP9YWR1skl6z6lNvDM1LkKXILRvgux/s400/who's+singing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-91052569219624474312013-10-17T18:19:00.000-07:002013-10-17T18:19:49.072-07:00I Wish This Was Under Happier Circumstances...I had no idea that it been so long. I started reading on how to improve my blog, and then all of a sudden, my blog didn't seem worthy or good enough or something I don't know. So I thought I'd wait until I could improve my blog which I just didn't get around to due to a summer case of kids-up-my-hinie-itis. It was a severe case. I will improve my blog; it's just gonna take some time. Since this is really more for me than y'all anyway, I don't really need to be anything more than I can be right now. Maybe I should listen to me more.<br />
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I write today to pay a bit of honor to a really good guy. My Grandpa Jerry passed away today. He was in his 80's, and he lived a really full life, so no regrets there. He was a really funny guy and a great dancer. He served in the Navy in WWII. He told great stories, sometimes over and over again. I did get to see him one last time. My ma and sis sat with him until 1:30am after I drove 7 hours. In typical Jen fashion, I defused with humor and I'm sure I made a lot of jokes that were in poor taste, but Jerry would have been rolling if he wasn't in a coma. We were on our A game. I like to think we brought him a giggle or two before he passed a few hours later. <br />
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He even gave me an early Christmas present. I had almost 5 hours to sit and watch whatever tv shows I wanted to watch (British shows on PBS) while cross-stitching while everyone was doing last minute work today. I can't even tell you the last time I was able to sit for 5 hours straight. It was nice.<br />
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So, thank you Jerry for being good to my grandma and to us. Thanks for an afternoon off, one of the most precious gifts to a mom. Thanks for being you. You are and will be missed.<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-65217571711772567382013-06-11T06:23:00.000-07:002013-06-11T07:04:54.065-07:00If I Hear the Words "I'm Sorry" One More Time....<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuR9AZbc7DfcWfhGm3QZ_Ob6J1BjvMoZpxQwN7DyWkkpLSEpMuLYh2wdKgS0cExWqwV9edVrNPnuo1YnE6hiq7TRRJRUaYltoCR9MVu33lur-1lmAMb76hafS3AjGt_uRwYLYSXyVrDi9J/s1600/sorry.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuR9AZbc7DfcWfhGm3QZ_Ob6J1BjvMoZpxQwN7DyWkkpLSEpMuLYh2wdKgS0cExWqwV9edVrNPnuo1YnE6hiq7TRRJRUaYltoCR9MVu33lur-1lmAMb76hafS3AjGt_uRwYLYSXyVrDi9J/s320/sorry.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh look...it's sparkly.</td></tr>
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Okay so here's the deal. The phrase "I'm sorry." has officially lost all meaning for me. It's original intent was to let someone you have wronged know that you acknowledge the wrong and are repentant of your actions. How wonderful, yes? I agree, and it still would be a useful phrase if it was used properly. Instead, it is now used as the Band-aid of Ill Behavior. Shall I demonstrate?<br />
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Did I cut you off in traffic because I'm in a hurry and almost caused a wreck? I'm sorry.<br />
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Did I cough in your face? I'm sorry.<br />
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Did I just I snatch the last cookie at the party even though I knew you were headed towards it? I'm sorry.<br />
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Did I just go on and on about the new car I bought just because I could right after you just told me that you lost your job? I'm sorry.<br />
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Did I just say something about you that you weren't supposed to hear but you did and now your feelings are hurt, but if I'm honest, I don't really care because I really did mean every word and maybe you would be a better person if someone had told you this before? I'm sorry.</div>
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What's really being said is I'm sorry I got caught. I'm sorry you got your feelings hurt. I'm sorry you are in my way of getting what I want. I'm sorry you weren't thinking of me because I'm more important right now. In the words of Fat Amy, "Lezbe honest..."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I've heard nothing but "I'm sorry." for the past week whenever my children have misbehaved. The response was automatic and the expectation was that all should be well as I've uttered the magic "I'm sorry." All is not well yo. Not. Well. Now she's a snack snatcher and a liar. She's not sorry snatching that cookie. She's only sorry that she didn't get away with it! How do I know this is the case? 1) She keeps snatching cookies! If she was REALLY sorry, she wouldn't do it again. 2) I have heard all of my children use "I'm sorry" correctly. I know when they mean it and when they are attempting the Band-aid of Ill Behavior. It's been nothing by ill behavior around here. Kinda done.</div>
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<div>
From now on, it's not "I'm sorry." Those words have become empty and angering. It's "I shouldn't have done that." followed by the reasons why they should not have done whatever it is they did. I don't believe they are ever really sorry for hitting each other, so why lie about it? They get in trouble for lying. They can at least admit they shouldn't have smacked each other around. Honestly!</div>
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<br /></div>
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And so ends another rant on another day on another topic that parents try not to feel like failures about. Parenting is not for sissies. If the word "sissies" offends you, I'm sorry. Wait. No I'm not. Be offended. It's that kinda day.</div>
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a></div>
One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-17213782200487296002013-04-23T10:53:00.001-07:002013-04-23T10:55:41.989-07:00What My Gallbladder Taught Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
So on #2's birthday, I got a stomach ache so bad it felt like labor. When it didn't go away for 3 days, I go to the doc to find that I have a gallbladder full of stones. This makes eating anything crazy painful. After two weeks of melba toast, saltines and Gatorade, I had my very first surgery. After being out of my normal life (as normal as my life gets anyway) for about a month, I have learned a little bit more about me.</div>
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1) There is a reason I am not in the medical profession. I googled pictures of gallstones. Yeah, don't do that. So gross. I'm now thinking it was worth the money just to have the ball of nasty out of my system. Blech.</div>
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2) I do not like being high. Lortabs made me insane. Everyone I know had stories that I don't remember. Conversations were had that I wasn't quite sure were real. I wore my clothes backwards in public without realizing it. My favorite was my the texts to my husband with pictures of my arms because they were floating. Floating. Nice. I just hope I didn't call and tell/ask someone to marry me...unless it was Bear...that guy is hot.</div>
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3) I have really good friends who are willing to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to take me to the hospital, pick my kids up from school, and cook me dinner. I am blessed indeed.</div>
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4)I have the best girls in the world. I actually already knew that, but they proved it once again. They were constantly checking on me and bringing me flowers from the yard. Loves them so much.</div>
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5) I have the best husband. He was and still is just wonderful. Words just can't describe how amazing he has been. He worked so hard to keep the family going. I am so blessed. So very blessed.</div>
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6) Chloe the Dog is an opportunist. Nice. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCFvc-jnmdr_qIIqX23NPu1y-xoHHTj7h7GgE8D7ObRV1mN37wt7TZvoFj44h3CrgTaS1ENTvQfnq8G3pPu1tWksHRT0uW_MaKoFxOgT2WcCtOQUN8hkvDMA9k8AI0b96bAu4pNXTs2ok/s1600/IMG_20130415_074058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCFvc-jnmdr_qIIqX23NPu1y-xoHHTj7h7GgE8D7ObRV1mN37wt7TZvoFj44h3CrgTaS1ENTvQfnq8G3pPu1tWksHRT0uW_MaKoFxOgT2WcCtOQUN8hkvDMA9k8AI0b96bAu4pNXTs2ok/s320/IMG_20130415_074058.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a></div>
One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-56016652334522660082013-03-28T07:05:00.001-07:002013-03-28T07:05:11.549-07:00Happy Birthday to One of Favorite Answers to Prayer<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_IvZa9yZ7E1XdQHwfGf814-IDApTnXWx8uEnZ3-4n0ZX9mf7tMVtfwWULXf3__5GobHH1EcrUsi5U7GUlfIODy3AVh5v2Jw7n0_7yGy3j9Kbg-aS_v7S7JrEi0IJJFYj4jWT-vyrqWeN/s1600/Easley+Portraits+2012+2012-12-09+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_IvZa9yZ7E1XdQHwfGf814-IDApTnXWx8uEnZ3-4n0ZX9mf7tMVtfwWULXf3__5GobHH1EcrUsi5U7GUlfIODy3AVh5v2Jw7n0_7yGy3j9Kbg-aS_v7S7JrEi0IJJFYj4jWT-vyrqWeN/s400/Easley+Portraits+2012+2012-12-09+016.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is my precious!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We had one baby angel. It was like we just thought, "Hmmm, a baby would be lovely." and BAM! I was El Preggo. #2 took more time and prayer. I didn't get preggers out of gate like last time. It took us almost a year. About month 6, Bear stopped asking because it was sad and discouraging. But finally, I was El Preggo once more.<div>
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She's been work from the get go. She wouldn't (and I really do mean would NOT nurse) She only wanted Daddy at night. You'd think that would make me happy, but if I'm honest, it hurt my feelings a little bit. She didn't sleep through the night for almost a year (the other 2 were all nighters by 12 weeks), and she her communication delays linger on. Her screams can blind you, and she is stubborn as the day is long. I won't even get started on her mischievousness.</div>
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That being said...</div>
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She has musical laughter. She is friendly to everyone regardless of communicational or physical abilities. She's creative. She dances. She's loving. She's scrappy. She's smart and bright. She could Calvin and Hobbes a run for their money in the mischief department. (There is a bit of the love-hate when it comes to mischief: I don't like to pick up the mess, but I so admire the creativity. I'm all, "My baby is so smart. It's a shame they have to die.") She is loving. She is funny. I'm sure she's part cat. And you'd be amazed and a little sad at how hard she tries...to be like everyone else.</div>
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May the Good Lord bless her with good health, the will to improve, the strength to carry on, friends who love her the way she is, and that she will serve the Lord all the days of her life; that her joy may be full and her destiny fulfilled.</div>
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Happy Birthday Baby Angel! I'm so glad and blessed that you're my girl! Momma loves you!</div>
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<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="96" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" width="320" /></a></div>
One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-22704084793457874812013-03-14T09:00:00.001-07:002013-03-14T09:00:38.787-07:00Man...It's Been Nuts...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-b48MSwRhPxKEaYjshtKAbDrPY0AUSXk6UTQAO_oV-K-HI0r8yoYOdRP03EEYqRUSNDOHPRPjiEE8YxXSxpCkggTZPLJDDOd7sF3oDD_5ceZRr8fPsBuxWd4UhiBHAIeWi-FNFlTmScnn/s1600/IMG_20130220_153339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-b48MSwRhPxKEaYjshtKAbDrPY0AUSXk6UTQAO_oV-K-HI0r8yoYOdRP03EEYqRUSNDOHPRPjiEE8YxXSxpCkggTZPLJDDOd7sF3oDD_5ceZRr8fPsBuxWd4UhiBHAIeWi-FNFlTmScnn/s320/IMG_20130220_153339.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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It's been dye your hair blue because why not crazy! There's also been a lot of change. Most of it really good and one really sad. We have moved two towns over, and have been saving money like crazy. Being close to everyone and everything has been just wonderful. The really sad is that my baby Tinsel had to be given to a new home. We were blessed to keep Chloe and Jae Shin, but Tinsel was one dog too many. She's got a really great home and is being taken care of, but I'm still a bit sad still. I got her to keep her, but we didn't have a choice.<br />
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Being a grown up sucks sometimes.<br />
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The girls are doing well. We all are. Like I said, mostly good and a little sad. More to adventures to come!<br />
<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-52786791588245435742012-12-14T21:16:00.001-08:002012-12-14T21:16:30.061-08:00For What Could Have BeenToday, most vile evil came upon some poor little angel babies. They couldn't even defend themselves. They must've been so scared. It's so futile, I know, but I wish I could've done something to help them. It doesn't matter that it's not possible. I still wish it. Parents shouldn't have to bury their children, and children shouldn't be afraid of school. It's simply vile and wrong and evil.<br />
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My fear is that this horror will be used only to promote the kind of gun control that will turn honest and good men into criminals and make illegal gun runners very rich. That's also wrong. If one is bent on committing evil, one will do it on either side of the law. <br />
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I'm finding it hard to sleep. I weep for those angel babies. I didn't know them, and in all probability, I never would. Still, I weep for what could have been. The doctors, lawyers, plumbers, artists, humanitarians, explorers, comedians, firefighters that were lost to evil on this day. The great things they might have done. The great parents they might have made. The better world we might have lived in...all stolen from us...<br />
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Lord Jesus, bring comfort to these shattered heart and lives; protect us from such evil; heal the poor demented minds that would do such things; show us Your light on this very dark day....<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6594207687518047505.post-60087042966709546592012-12-01T18:07:00.002-08:002012-12-01T18:17:35.161-08:00Time for Personal Growth...Are You Kidding Me?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAqx-aAsld8KzU7Bg6dpWpD2GxHDP3aXtBwINha1kZBkvqArHp2yY0y64uoJPUOqtfGVHj9TIRvljSlTcZWnRTyTXsjwH-b1UO6zEY_svbECTvlQn1BWe1FSs0P4jHOYmGHQi03A9mGxo/s1600/are+you+kidding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAqx-aAsld8KzU7Bg6dpWpD2GxHDP3aXtBwINha1kZBkvqArHp2yY0y64uoJPUOqtfGVHj9TIRvljSlTcZWnRTyTXsjwH-b1UO6zEY_svbECTvlQn1BWe1FSs0P4jHOYmGHQi03A9mGxo/s400/are+you+kidding.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
NO! No I'm not!<br />
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Yeah, see, here's the thing about growing as a person: you have to do things you never wanted to do...as in ever. Why do you have to do them? Because Life demands it. That's right. The great, all powerful force known as Life demands that you now perform an act of Are-You-Kidding-Me? by throwing you into circumstances that you cannot avoid.<br />
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Things like, your car breaking down 45 minutes from your house as you travel home from a rather fun Thanksgiving with family. Now, what's really great is you've had coffee. It was so good. Now, it's bitterness makes itself known as you are stranded miles from a bathroom, and you, by no means, are an outdoorsy kinda girl. You are the kind of girl who camps at the Holiday Inn. Life giggles and taps its fingertips together in anticipation. The show is about to start. More giggling. Because sometimes Life is a total butt munch.<br />
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Okay, so there I am. In pain. Waiting for the tow truck guy. My MIL, who is officially our knight in shining armor and shall henceforth be known as Lady Momsalot, has come to pick us up because the munchies are cold and getting very bored. The woods by the car are so thick, you have to hike up into them with a sherpa. I can barely stand. Time to get creative...and humble...and horrified...and scarred for life...and grow as a person.<br />
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I open the front door (and no, the light WILL. NOT. TURN. OFF.) and the back door, drape a blanket between them and balance. For a split second, I could almost pretend I was in a public restroom. (It was shockingly similar actually..when you think about it..whoa...) Almost...until the blanket fell. Nope. On the side of the road. Peeing while praying truckers don't notice the full moon as they pass on by. Personal. Growth.<br />
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I don't think I had ever felt like kicking Life in the groin until that moment, but in that moment, I sure did. And those are the Are-You-Kidding-Me? moments when you have to be a grown-up and do what has to be done even though you really don't want to. If you don't, Life just points and laughs like the butt munch lint licker it likes to be sometimes. Doing what you gotta do is the kidney shot that wipes the smug smile off Life's face. While Life is in pain, trying to breathe, you say, "Boo-yah Life! Peeing on the side of the road...like a boss! Yeah! In. Your. Butt Munch. FACE!" That's when you kick Life, so it knows you mean it! You do it with flair too, but you have grown as a person. That's right. Personal growth. It's gonna happen so be ready.<br />
..still horrifying though...just sayin'...<a href="http://s1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/?action=view&current=jensig.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1154.photobucket.com/albums/p522/JenEric99/jensig.png" /></a>One of Many Jenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14919743700757379056noreply@blogger.com0