<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458</id><updated>2012-01-24T23:33:36.134-07:00</updated><category term='simple but stunning'/><category term='italian'/><category term='snacks'/><category term='mindless ramblings'/><category term='lunch'/><title type='text'>Organized Chaos by Erin</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>514</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2610958936895842734</id><published>2012-01-24T23:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T23:33:36.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boring post about fantastic laundry soap. Confused?</title><content type='html'>Ok. Happy housewife moment, here. I am shamelessly plugging my new favorite product: S20 All-In-One laundry sheets (found here) &lt;a href="http://home-solutions.hsn.com/s2o-110-all-in-one-laundry-sheets-fresh-scent-autoship_p-6649302_xp.aspx?web_id=6649302&amp;sourcemailid=EMSHIPWEB201201&amp;cm_mmc=Email-_-Transactional-_-EMSHIPWEB201201-_-purchaseditem"&gt;http://home-solutions.hsn.com/s2o-110-all-in-one-laundry-sheets-fresh-scent-autoship_p-6649302_xp.aspx?web_id=6649302&amp;sourcemailid=EMSHIPWEB201201&amp;cm_mmc=Email-_-Transactional-_-EMSHIPWEB201201-_-purchaseditem &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching HSN one night. I guess I was at a vulnerable moment, or feeling the need to be clean, or something. Anyway, they were pitching these laundry sheets. They are actually used in place of laundry soap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I bought some. Heck, I thought I'd try it and see if it really does what they say it does. It is supposed to be really good at getting grease out, even set in grease. Also, it is apparenty a very good fabric softener, color protector, and non-irritating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got my first load out of the dryer. I had one shirt that has had two huge grease spots on the front for months now. No, I don't wear it in public...very often. My usual way to get set in grease stains out is by spraying the stain with WD40, rubbing it in but being careful to not get ANY of it on any other part of the shirt. Then rubbing in dish detergent with grease fighter, and letting it sit. Most often this works, but not always. It didn't work on this shirt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In comes the new stuff. I grabbed a laundry sheet, rubbed it right on the dry shirt with the grease stains, then tossed it in the wash. Did I think it would work, absolutely not. Did it work? Absolutely!!! Not only did it work, but my clothes are softer then they've ever been, and they smell good, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it, my shameless advertisement. I will state it claims to get out grease stains, but doesn't say anything about other stains. I assume you have to treat those like any other stains you treat. However, I seem to get more grease stains than anything, and this worked great. And I love how soft my clothes are!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One container has 110 sheets. You use about 2 sheets per large load. I usually cram every stitch of clothing into one load I possibly can, and 2 seemed to work great. You can choose autoship and choose how often it is shipped, as well. (I chose every two months- there's only 3 of us here.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's all I got to say about that. Take it or leave it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2610958936895842734?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2610958936895842734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2610958936895842734&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2610958936895842734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2610958936895842734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2012/01/boring-post-about-fantastic-laundry.html' title='Boring post about fantastic laundry soap. Confused?'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6229051380749945183</id><published>2012-01-24T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T09:12:36.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If I am dreaming, please don't wake me.</title><content type='html'>I didn't have to drive the carpool this morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hubby quietly told me to turn off my alarm clock when it went of...the first time, (I have it set to go off every 9 minutes and I know I can let it go off 3 times before I absolutely have to get up, and I always let it go off the full 3 times, and hubby hates it) and offered to get the kid up and ready. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son was so quiet getting ready I never heard him leave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hubby was so quiet getting ready I thought he had left, but he hadn't yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lay like a slug in my 4 pillows (yes 4, every girl needs several pillows) until guilt took over and I made myself get up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hubby came in and kissed me goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son off to school without a hitch,(with his science project, I might add- which is a miracle in itself!)&lt;br /&gt;Hubby off to work.&lt;br /&gt;Mommy got a full night's sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This day is starting off like a dream! Reality: I hope you take the day off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6229051380749945183?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6229051380749945183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6229051380749945183&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6229051380749945183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6229051380749945183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2012/01/if-i-am-dreaming-please-dont-wake-me.html' title='If I am dreaming, please don&apos;t wake me.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-5517552999370214893</id><published>2012-01-23T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T08:59:11.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My uber brilliant billion dollar idea!</title><content type='html'>My husband is always looking for ways for me to make us our millions so he can quit working. Well, I should say, he encourages &lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt; to look for ways to make millions- he doesn't do much "looking" himself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the search is over. I have found the answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since movies have been made with sound, it seems there have always been movies made about teenagers desire to dance and how misunderstood they are, right? I mean, you have "Flash Dance" (which I've never seen, but my husband has- several times, though he would never admit it in public. Sorry, hun. In his defense, it was when he was very young at a slumber party with a friend and he wasn't allowed to watch it at home so it was kind of a kid-rebels-against-parents-by-watching-a-teen-rebel-against-society kind of party. You get it.) Then there's "Footloose" which I watched over and over about 7 times in one crazy night at my own slumber party with a bunch of screaming girls and their mom who was absolutely in love with Kevin Bacon, which was kind of Creepy since her husband was just in the other room shushing us to be quiet. Then there's "Dirty Dancing" which will forever be one of my favorites because it was filmed at my most favorite place on earth- Lake Lure, in North Carolina. I won't name all the others- there are way too many, and I think I've made my point: Kids want to dance, and adults just don't understand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, there is a HUGE missing piece in this teen-angst, forbidden dancer drama genre. What about those poor kids who desperately wanted to dance the new and scandelous waltz when it first appeared?  Thus enters my brilliant idea. Are you ready for it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture this: satin-toed feet rushing through the dewy wet grass behind a large and sprawling estate. Giggling and hushed laughing. Anxious suitors await in a secret hideaway for the ladies to arrive. A violin begins. The partners bow. The forbidden waltzing begins!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isnt your heart just pounding with the anticipation of it all? Will they be found out? Will the girls' reputations be ruined forever? Will their fathers demand pistols at dawn to any young suitor caught waltzing with their prized daughter? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband looked at me like I had worms crawling out of my nose when I told him my idea. Apparently pistols at dawn isn't enough of a draw for the male population's attention. Or maybe it was the satin-toed shoes that turned him off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I think it is a gripping idea, and I am going to call Robert Redford and pitch it to him right now. I'll even let him play one of the angry grandfathers, if he so wishes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the waltzing begin!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-5517552999370214893?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/5517552999370214893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=5517552999370214893&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5517552999370214893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5517552999370214893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-uber-brilliant-billion-dollar-idea.html' title='My uber brilliant billion dollar idea!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3699522325502784658</id><published>2012-01-20T09:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T09:41:04.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yearnin' for the land o'the green...and needing the green to go.</title><content type='html'>This morning as I went to take my son to school, the weather was absolutely beautiful. Now, when I say "beautiful" I don't mean your usual sunny, warm, birds chirping kind of beautiful. No, to me beautiful is rainy, not too cold, misty. It made me think of the weather in March. (Yes, it is January, but we're having freakish end-of-the-world weather in Utah right now. IT's kind of creepy, actually.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather made my bones yearn. My ancestral bones from Ireland, Scottland, Wales. They yearn for this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RyjpALwmazo/TxmXS66g1LI/AAAAAAAAA8U/LRCANt1_tII/s1600/green-ireland-lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="250" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RyjpALwmazo/TxmXS66g1LI/AAAAAAAAA8U/LRCANt1_tII/s320/green-ireland-lg.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've only been to Wales, but I felt I was going home. Really! It was kind of strange, actually, but I really felt like I belonged there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today I am listening to celtic music, loving the rain, and dreaming of greener places. &lt;br /&gt;Oh, this is a picture of my ancestral castle in Scottland. Buchannan Castle- pretty cool, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iaAgUsvC320/TxmZERlipQI/AAAAAAAAA8g/kQWEq77Xfk4/s1600/buchannancastle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="232" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iaAgUsvC320/TxmZERlipQI/AAAAAAAAA8g/kQWEq77Xfk4/s320/buchannancastle.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erin go Bragh!!! (my name does mean Ireland, you know.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3699522325502784658?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3699522325502784658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3699522325502784658&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3699522325502784658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3699522325502784658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2012/01/yearnin-for-land-othe-greenand-needing.html' title='Yearnin&apos; for the land o&apos;the green...and needing the green to go.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RyjpALwmazo/TxmXS66g1LI/AAAAAAAAA8U/LRCANt1_tII/s72-c/green-ireland-lg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-927187850346610752</id><published>2012-01-07T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T21:46:38.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My list of what I haven't done this whole year</title><content type='html'>What I haven't done yet this year:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-taken down the Christmas trees and decorations&lt;br /&gt;-made any new year resolutions to better myself&lt;br /&gt;-gotten rid of all the nasty junk food laying around since Christmas&lt;br /&gt;-gotten on the treadmill (since 2 days before Christmas. eek!)&lt;br /&gt;-felt guilty about any of the above! (for the most part...sort of...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided I am not in a race, so why feel rushed? Let's face it, the junk food will either go away because it went to my hips, or go away because I eventually decided to toss it. My trees will eventually come down. I will eventually do something to better myself whether I make a goal to do so on paper or just keep it floating around in my head. And I will eventually get back on the treadmill because my guilt won't let me sit and do nothing for a whole year. See? There's hope already!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-927187850346610752?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/927187850346610752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=927187850346610752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/927187850346610752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/927187850346610752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-list-of-what-i-havent-done-this.html' title='My list of what I haven&apos;t done this whole year'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6467361703436354694</id><published>2012-01-06T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T09:03:05.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a good mother, dangit!</title><content type='html'>I hate making breakfast most mornings. I mean,I want to be a good mom and not just throw a bowl of sugar cereal at my kid with some milk and call it good, but getting up, prodding my kid over and over to get out of bed, figuring out something healthy and filling to make for breakfast, actually making it... well, it just a little too much for me most mornings. So, I decided to solve my problem once and for all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today I am cooking up 30 sausage patties, 30 scrambled egg rounds with cheese, and 30 toasted english muffins. I will put them together and Voila! Instant breakfast sandwiches with eggs, protein, dairy, grains; I am a good mom again! I'll just freeze them, and zap them for a minute every morning. My kid will be happy and well fed, I will be happy and not have to cook every morning- it's a win/win! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I AM a good mother!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6467361703436354694?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6467361703436354694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6467361703436354694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6467361703436354694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6467361703436354694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-am-good-mother-dangit.html' title='I am a good mother, dangit!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7706090429424576407</id><published>2012-01-04T23:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T23:18:01.747-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The longest run-on sentence of the year... so far.</title><content type='html'>The funny thing about being a parent is when you have to give your kid a pep-talk about jumping back into school after the long Christmas break, and how he will get back into the groove of things in no time, and how great it is to be back on a schedule; when all the while you are on the verge of breaking into tears and having a nervous breakdown because the pile of laundry you didn't do the week after Christmas is growing by the day, the dishes need to be done, the Christmas trees are still up and you curse yourself for insisting you needed two up to begin with, your resolve to toss out all leftover candy and junk food from the holidays the day after new year's day has turned into purchasing a package of oreos and consuming 1/3 of it in one sitting with a cold glass of milk while watching Dr. Who and avoiding the mountain of laundry mentioned earlier, and the only reason you have gotten out of bed at all is because you have to put on the facade that you have jumped back into normal life with both feet and are doing just fine so your kid can continue "getting on" with his normal life again without having his own after-holidays melt-down, and you realize you aren't fooling anyone when your kid throws his arms around you and tells you you'll be ok soon and it'll all be back to normal in no time- the very words you used his first morning back to school as you both climbed into the cold car before the sun was up for the first time in two weeks, and you dread getting on that scale in the bathroom knowing it isn't going to say kind things to you, but that you need to face reality sooner or later if you are going to attempt your new year's resolutions sometime in the near future when you have really and truly faced the fact that the holidays are over and life really has to get back to normal, and there really is no other way than to do just as you have told your trusting 10 year old and jump in with both feet, facing the new year head on with eyes of steel and an unwavering resolve, just as soon as you polish off the last of the cherry chocolates and triple cream brie cheese, and that last 2/3rds package of oreos. Yep. It's pretty funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7706090429424576407?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7706090429424576407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7706090429424576407&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7706090429424576407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7706090429424576407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2012/01/longest-run-on-sentence-of-year-so-far.html' title='The longest run-on sentence of the year... so far.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4389589878651487864</id><published>2011-12-15T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T09:59:50.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am housewife...hear me roar!</title><content type='html'>I went to get new glasses the other day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Russian woman was "helping" me. ("Helping"- meaning she showed me where all the designer frames were, gestured nonchallantly to the "rest" of the frames- which I took as her thinly veiled opinion that the "rest" of the frames were utter poop, and then left me to my own defenses.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I had chosen my favorites, she then informed me the rimless pair I had chosen was on special that day- for only $400! *cough, cough*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh... I thought you said they were on sale!" I choked out.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, dey are. Dese are &lt;i&gt;designer&lt;/i&gt;, so you know, you &lt;i&gt;vill&lt;/i&gt; be paying more...&lt;i&gt;obviously&lt;/i&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said nevermind and handed her my second pair- horn rimmed cuties, also from the "designer" rack, but on sale. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Put zem on,"  she said just staring at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did as she commanded. She smiled and said she approved. "Oh yes, dese look very good on you. Good choice, dese horn rimmed are very in-fashion right now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I may be a stay-at-home mom and housewife, but I do have some idea of the going fashion right now, thank you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to pick out my second pair that were NOT designer, rimless, pocket-bleeders. It only took me a few moments because I had had my eye on another pair earlier before I decided on the rimless. I grabbed them and took them up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll take these, then," I said as I put them down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Put zem on," she said again with a very somber expression on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I obeyed. This time, no smile of approval. No nod of agreement. Just dead face. &lt;br /&gt;"Hmmm... " she said as I took them off.&lt;br /&gt;"Put zem back on. I vant to see again."&lt;br /&gt;Ok. &lt;br /&gt;"Vell... do &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt; like zem?"&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm no idiot. I know this is her way of saying she hates them, they are not from the designer rack, they do not cost an arm and a first born child, these will NOT do, in her opinion. &lt;br /&gt;However, I am confident enough in my choice. I like thise simpler, more understated, cheaper pair. &lt;br /&gt;"Yes. I do like them. I think they have a classic look. I'll take them!" &lt;br /&gt;"Hmm.... put zem back on again."&lt;br /&gt;I hessitated before doing it this time. She was trying to let me know she knew better than I what looks good, but I had to strongly disagree. After all, she had horrible orange-blonde hair from a bottle. How good could her taste be?&lt;br /&gt;But I put them back on. &lt;br /&gt;"Hmm.....vell, ok, den."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I pick up my new glasses today. Maybe I'll post pictures. Maybe the russian mafia will come after me for not capitulating. Maybe I will hang my head for the next several years as I wear the glasses of shame. Or, maybe I really do know what looks good on me. Either way, it's done. I am, however, just a little teensy bit proud of myself for not succombing to russian woman's scare tactics, and standing my ground. I find this sense of power a bit refreshing. Maybe I will just hold my head higher today.&lt;br /&gt; I am housewife. Hear me roar!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4389589878651487864?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4389589878651487864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4389589878651487864&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4389589878651487864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4389589878651487864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-am-housewifehear-me-roar.html' title='I am housewife...hear me roar!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1412951531730070293</id><published>2011-12-13T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T09:28:32.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My blog has the wrong name...</title><content type='html'>I re-named my blog the other day, and it bugs me to death. Why? Because it is not the truth. Chaos, yes. Organized, not by a long shot! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard it said that artists minds tend to be less organized because we always have projects and ideas floating around, crowding out any place where organization might take its place. This is definitely true of my mind!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't really come here to talk about how messed up my mind is. So, if this was an essay for high school english, I would get an "F" because the opening sentence does not reflect the true topic of the paper. However, it does represent the scatter-brained nature of my ever-morphing mind! So, in a way it really is fitting now that I think of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, the true reason to write today is to air my frustration at this lack of snow we are having this Christmas season. I live in a state where a white Christmas is absolutely expected! If I wanted a green Christmas I would live in Hawaii! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been having a very difficult time getting into the holiday spirit this Christmas. Partly due to the fact that the whole ugly truth about Santa was exposed in all its blaring nakedness last week, and my son's twinkling child-like illusion came crashing down in one giant heap of broken dreams. But I think it is also partly due to the fact that we have had NO snow... at all! No glowing christmas lights illuminating the fluffy white heaps of snow on our bushes and eaves of our house. No giant floating flakes that stay on your nose and eyelashes. No snowman gracing our front lawn in mismatched gloves and old scarf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my prayer this Christmas is that there be snow!!!! I'm not getting any Christmas presents this year (that I am aware of. And I am always aware of all the presents I get because I purchase them and then wrap them, write a note "to my lovely wife whom I adore forever and ever, love your husband" and pretend to be totally surprised when I open them on Christmas morning. But I spent way too much on gifts for my husband and son I decided to forgo any presents I might get.) But the one thing I absolutely insist upon this year is snow! Lots and lots of snow! Piles of snow! Snow I have to shovel three times in one day to clear off the sidewalks! (Hey, then I might get myself a snow blower for Christmas and act totally surprised when I open it on the big day! What an idea!)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.... let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!!!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And let me get a little more organized, too. There, now I tied it all in!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1412951531730070293?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1412951531730070293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1412951531730070293&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1412951531730070293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1412951531730070293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-blog-has-wrong-name.html' title='My blog has the wrong name...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2573915230816415796</id><published>2011-12-06T09:07:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T09:07:53.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Look...</title><content type='html'>I color my hair because it makes for a cheap new change when I need one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wear red lipstick when I want to feel on top of the world, whether I actually am or not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wear a dress or skirt when I'm feeling pretty, or want to feel pretty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I re-dress my blog when I'm bored. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the blog got a make-over today. New name, new face. Consider it red lipstick and a new hair color for the blog! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2573915230816415796?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2573915230816415796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2573915230816415796&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2573915230816415796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2573915230816415796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/12/new-look.html' title='New Look...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8030980361974050634</id><published>2011-11-29T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-29T08:54:29.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who cares???</title><content type='html'>I think I can honestly say I have reached a point in my life where I really just don't care what others think of me. And let me say, it is freeing! I gave a lesson in church on Sunday. The stress of planning the lesson the weeks before Thanksgiving really got to me. I had trouble thinking about what to say, how to say it, etc. In the end I just put it aside and enjoyed turkey and pie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday afternoon I picked it back up again. Suddenly the thoughts all came together and I knew what I was going to say. I gave the lesson on Sunday and ended up having way too much information, rather than not enough- which is good. And when I finished, I packed up my things and left. I didn't worry about did people like it, or did it touch someone, or offend anyone (which is often the case!) No, I just felt good because I had done my very best. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized in the end it is just you and God. If you do your best with what you are given, He knows it. He knows who you are and what your needs are and what all your faults are and why you have those faults. Everyone in the world has faults and they have to deal with them in their own way. I am glad to know it just doesn't matter what others think of me! You should all try it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8030980361974050634?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8030980361974050634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8030980361974050634&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8030980361974050634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8030980361974050634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/11/who-cares.html' title='Who cares???'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6937210945991634762</id><published>2011-11-19T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T09:19:54.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Married to Superman</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed of Superman. Yes, blue tights, red cape and all. I was a student in college, just sitting outside a building studying. Suddenly, my eyes were drawn up from my books at the sight of bright red boots, tight fitting blue spandex over unrealistically muscular legs, and a flapping red cape descended from above me and landed next to me, with token hands on hips. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I was amazed, stunned, aghast...you name it! Superman! Was sitting right next to me! He spoke to me, and I have no memory of what he said because I was so gobsmacked by the whole experience. He said something about wanting to take me out, but that he'd be right back because at that moment someone needed his help. And just like that, he was gone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dream ended before he returned, sadly. I awoke smiling and trying to get back to sleep so I could find out what Superman wanted with me. As I was thinking about my dream I remembered as a 10 year old girl how much I adored Superman. I mean THE Superman- Christopher Reeve. I loved him soooo much I was quite sure it was possible for me to marry him someday. Once, my dad too me to a wax museum in California, and there was a statue of Superman. I had to pose for a picture next to him, my frizzy perm and all. But I was in love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking about my dream I began thinking of my sweet husband. We celebrated 12 years of wedded bliss in October, and for the most part, it really HAS been wedded bliss. We are the best of friends. He just "gets" me like no one else. He laughs at most of my lame jokes. He knows exactly what to tell me when I am feeling low. He knows just when to step in and offer to bring dinner home. He is my real-life super hero. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was tending my 4 neices and nephews. I was in the middle of trying to make dinner in my tiny kitchen with the table pulled out to the middle of the room so everyone could fit around it. In one arm was my little niece- who was crying because she was afraid of my husband who had just walked in the door, while my other arm was frantically trying to fix hot dogs for everyone, chicken quesadillas for the grown-ups, and pulling french fries out of the oven before they burned, all while searching for an inch or two of empty counterspace to put the hot pan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sweet husband, knowing my niece who was screaming in my arms because she was deathly afraid of my husband, graceously offered to take her and try to read to her so I could finish fixing dinner. He patiently read her pop-up books in the living room while she screamed constantly in his ears for about 20 minutes until dinner was ready. He didn't come in frustratedly thrusting the child in my arms again saying "she's all yours". No, he was the picture of calm and my own personal heaven-sent angel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, after all the kids left, I informed him our son had been planning a "mommy slumber party" for months and we had put it on the calender for that night. That meant mommy would be sleeping in the guest bed with the kid- away from the husband. (Because three in the bed is just a recipe for a horrible night's sleep! I know- we've done it before.) He just smiled and offered for all of us to watch a movie before bed. He even went out into a snowstorm to get me some diet Pepsi and chocolate, because I NEEDED it! It reminded me of when he left in the middle of the night on our wedding night to get me some cold medicine because I had a horrible sore throat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized then on my wedding night, and again last night, that I indeed have married Superman. He doesn't need any blue tights or shiny red boots. He doesn't need to fly with his fist extended forward and one hand on his hip. He works hard, and treats me like a princess. I couldn't ask for anyone more suited for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after I couldn't get back to sleep this morning to dream about Superman, I realized, all I had to do was wake up. I had Superman in my very own house! I love you, Sweetie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6937210945991634762?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6937210945991634762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6937210945991634762&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6937210945991634762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6937210945991634762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/11/married-to-superman.html' title='Married to Superman'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3482745658031869867</id><published>2011-11-15T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T09:25:18.322-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My list of I don't regrets and I wishes...</title><content type='html'>I don't regret:&lt;br /&gt;-not hiring a wedding photographer. I know, but it worked out just fine!&lt;br /&gt;-marrying the man I did. He is a little goofy, to be sure, but I adore him!&lt;br /&gt;- being a stay-at-home mom. Hard work, no recognition, but HUGE rewards!&lt;br /&gt;- that piece of chocolate cake last night. (well, ok, maybe just a little.)&lt;br /&gt;-putting too many exclamation points when I write. It expresses my personality in black and white!&lt;br /&gt;- "most" of the things I say before thinking, which is just about everything that comes out of my mouth!&lt;br /&gt;- my decision to send my kid to private school. Biggest blessing!&lt;br /&gt;-that night in Paris so long ago when the air smelled of roasted nuts and pipe tobacco, and his cologne smelled of.... what? Oh, I guess that didn't really  happen. &lt;br /&gt;-my inability to remember movies I've seen several times. It's like seeing it the first time every time I watch them!&lt;br /&gt;-my testimony of the gospel. It is my greatest comfort!!!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish:&lt;br /&gt;-my home was big enough to host Thanksgiving dinner for all the extended family. I would LOVE to cook the huge turkey with all the trimmings and have everyone here! *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;- I could stand to wear 5" platform heels. I adore them!&lt;br /&gt;- my hair was as thick as it was in high school.&lt;br /&gt;-I could find the perfect shade of deep red lipstick. Still looking.&lt;br /&gt;-more moms could stay home with their kids. &lt;br /&gt;-I wasn't afraid of the dentist. &lt;br /&gt;-teleportation was real. I'd be in Ireland or Wales right.... NOW! *poof*&lt;br /&gt;- I could go back to the 1950's and be a housewife in an apron with red lips in an era I felt like I belonged! (I could teleport there!)&lt;br /&gt;- I was going on another cruise with my hubby and son! &lt;br /&gt;- I lived next door to my mom and my sister!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3482745658031869867?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3482745658031869867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3482745658031869867&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3482745658031869867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3482745658031869867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-list-of-i-dont-regrets-and-i-wishes.html' title='My list of I don&apos;t regrets and I wishes...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6242346249829933867</id><published>2011-11-11T09:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T09:26:12.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful video about the Book of Mormon!</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3dNYpXZIN_c" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6242346249829933867?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6242346249829933867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6242346249829933867&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6242346249829933867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6242346249829933867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/11/beautiful-video-about-book-of-mormon.html' title='Beautiful video about the Book of Mormon!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/3dNYpXZIN_c/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2687930317050322697</id><published>2011-11-07T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T16:21:16.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>House Dress Revolution!</title><content type='html'>I have a secret desire, soon to be revealed. Right...about...now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to bring back the house dress. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, not this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VrLajLK3WO8/Trhl9H6gRkI/AAAAAAAAA7U/byCdr-EwtDM/s1600/ugly%2Bhouse%2Bcoat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="276" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VrLajLK3WO8/Trhl9H6gRkI/AAAAAAAAA7U/byCdr-EwtDM/s320/ugly%2Bhouse%2Bcoat.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't be caught dead in this! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, something more modern and chic, like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NSaQO7zgJzg/TrhnDGxHKOI/AAAAAAAAA7g/VTz2QGjJ9NM/s1600/chic%2Bhouse%2Bdress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="218" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NSaQO7zgJzg/TrhnDGxHKOI/AAAAAAAAA7g/VTz2QGjJ9NM/s320/chic%2Bhouse%2Bdress.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am old fashioned. That is an understatement! But I also want to look beautiful for my cute husband when he gets home. I think a house dress could do that for me. I could wear it all day long cleaning, then pretty up my  hair and put on some deodorant and Voila! I'm a beautiful, waiting-at-the-door-with-a-fresh-popped-can-of-mtn.Dew-kind of housewife! (No shaken martinis at this household, nosiree!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what do you say? Join me in the new house dress revolution??? Are you with me, ladies?&lt;br /&gt;How about this one? &lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3bF-2DJ9hcs/TrhnrfbinPI/AAAAAAAAA7s/T3adGomm3YM/s1600/cute%2Bhouse%2Bdress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="202" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3bF-2DJ9hcs/TrhnrfbinPI/AAAAAAAAA7s/T3adGomm3YM/s320/cute%2Bhouse%2Bdress.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one of each of these!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, ladies, it is a sickness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4DpXbhUXRxw/Trhnz-1gU-I/AAAAAAAAA74/N3QJZ-iPKMk/s1600/house%2Bdress%2Bcollection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="231" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4DpXbhUXRxw/Trhnz-1gU-I/AAAAAAAAA74/N3QJZ-iPKMk/s320/house%2Bdress%2Bcollection.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2687930317050322697?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2687930317050322697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2687930317050322697&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2687930317050322697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2687930317050322697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/11/house-dress-revolution.html' title='House Dress Revolution!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VrLajLK3WO8/Trhl9H6gRkI/AAAAAAAAA7U/byCdr-EwtDM/s72-c/ugly%2Bhouse%2Bcoat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-867309368958336474</id><published>2011-11-02T10:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T10:10:03.647-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Always kiss me goodnight with vinyl</title><content type='html'>I never thought I'd be one of "those" women. The ones who plaster their walls in vinyl cut-outs. Well, never say never. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to do with my kitchen walls, and found this darling branch and birds design. This morning, in about 20 minutes, I created art on my kitchen wall! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It went from this-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yX3F_Iwew38/TrFqmjiP7pI/AAAAAAAAA6M/p6t35eHHHEc/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yX3F_Iwew38/TrFqmjiP7pI/AAAAAAAAA6M/p6t35eHHHEc/s320/017.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; To this-&lt;br /&gt;after:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7VpdnJ3T2kE/TrFq0j6oRpI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/HwAdJfgVyXw/s1600/018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7VpdnJ3T2kE/TrFq0j6oRpI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/HwAdJfgVyXw/s320/018.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qjo_pyuAPvM/TrFq_eddnZI/AAAAAAAAA6k/lgYy7bVY9cs/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qjo_pyuAPvM/TrFq_eddnZI/AAAAAAAAA6k/lgYy7bVY9cs/s320/019.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ll4momQjJU8/TrFrFRcziBI/AAAAAAAAA6w/t0U0ioancOw/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ll4momQjJU8/TrFrFRcziBI/AAAAAAAAA6w/t0U0ioancOw/s320/020.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next project:&lt;br /&gt;Put up wording above my bed that says: Always kiss me goodnight... but brush your teeth first! (Ok, maybe not... but it's tempting!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-867309368958336474?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/867309368958336474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=867309368958336474&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/867309368958336474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/867309368958336474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/11/always-kiss-me-goodnight-with-vinyl.html' title='Always kiss me goodnight with vinyl'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yX3F_Iwew38/TrFqmjiP7pI/AAAAAAAAA6M/p6t35eHHHEc/s72-c/017.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4247858656456559580</id><published>2011-10-27T09:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-27T09:27:46.524-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay for this fun earthly existance. Right?</title><content type='html'>This year's Halloween preparation has been... well.... weird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually get totally into Halloween. Well, by "totally", I mean, I get out my cute decorations for the livingroom, put out my halloween pillows, hang up a halloween wreath outside, maybe string some lights. I listen to halloween music all day long, watch old scary movies, and bake like crazy. I'm usually on top of the halloween costume for my little buddy early on and just putting on the finishing touches about now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year??? Well, not so much. It started out great. I've been watching old scary movies quite frequently as I fold laundry or do other mundane household chores. But with my husband's new calling in church things have been in a state of chaos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To top it all off, our basement flooded over the weekend and I had to totally trash my sewing room to get to the flooding closet. Lost a lot of my fabric, too. Bleh!  So I have to muck out the  muck to get to the half-finished costume today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention the pressure that has been put on my by my little buddy. He said "Mom, every costume has to top the costume the year before it, just so you know."  Ya. No pressure! Last year I spent about an entire week, several hours a day, working on his Prince of Persia costume. The year before I spent about that same amount of time perfecting his Jack Sparrow costume. This year... well, I think I've put in a total of about 4 hours so far. Legolas is NOT going to be stunning, let's just say that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying not to feel like I've failed in some way because I haven't put my entire heart and soul and bank account into this costume. But honestly, I just haven't really cared this year. I hope it doesn't show when all is said and done, though. I'm sure it will be just fine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the whole point of Halloween is loads of candy anyway, right? So as long as he gets his sugar rush we're good, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm counting on that as I try to find my sewing machine under piles of fabric and bags of trim. That is, after I put all the fans away and clean up all the mops and towels and try to tack down the carpeting again from the flood.  Yay for this fun earthly existance, right??? :(  hee hee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4247858656456559580?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4247858656456559580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4247858656456559580&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4247858656456559580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4247858656456559580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/10/yay-for-this-fun-earthly-existance.html' title='Yay for this fun earthly existance. Right?'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-5783879462869502773</id><published>2011-10-17T09:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T09:06:31.103-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chocolate cake makes anything go down easier!</title><content type='html'>Wow! What a day we had yesterday! &lt;br /&gt;My husband was put into the bishopric as the second counselor in church yesterday. I sat there in amazement at the incredible bishop we had, and thinking how grateful I was to have such a sweet, kind-hearted bishop. Then the new bishopric gets put in and I felt ovewhelmed with love for each of them and thinking how YOUNG they all looked! I got choked up as the new bishop spoke about following and acting on the promptings of the Spirit, and letting it take you where you need to be. He talked about how they wanted to move many times but it didn't feel right. That one really spoke to me, for sure! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it looks like I'll be seeing a lot less of my hubby for a while! My relief society president told me it was good because there'd be fewer chances to not get along! She is so cute! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am grateful for family support, church members with kind words of encouragement, and chocolate cake from Costco which I had no reservations about having two slices of yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now on to the treadmill to work off that cake!  Here's to a new week, and a new adventure!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-5783879462869502773?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/5783879462869502773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=5783879462869502773&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5783879462869502773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5783879462869502773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/10/chocolate-cake-makes-anything-go-down.html' title='Chocolate cake makes anything go down easier!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-491492814244240874</id><published>2011-10-10T09:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T09:39:37.151-06:00</updated><title type='text'>sad, sad day.</title><content type='html'>I just heard some incredibly shocking news and I am reeling from it all. I barely slept a wink last night. Some dear, dear friends of ours are getting  a divorce, and it is breaking my heart. We used to do things with them all the time. Our kids played together, did egg hunts together. We had them over for breakfast to watch conference occasionally. They were a solid couple, weathering difficult storms. They had a beautiful family. I looked up to them, and prayed for them often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just spent the last 20 minutes writing and re-writing, deleting, and writing, then deleting again- strong words about divorce. I decided not to put them here for now. I am too upset. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am really mourning the loss of our dear, sweet friends' family today. And my prayers are reaching out to those poor darling kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad, sad day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-491492814244240874?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/491492814244240874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=491492814244240874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/491492814244240874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/491492814244240874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/10/sad-sad-day.html' title='sad, sad day.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-230492821600834746</id><published>2011-10-07T21:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T21:59:18.789-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Irritable Housewife syndrome....I've got it, apparently.</title><content type='html'>Tonight I needed someone else to do the cooking. I wanted something warm, something comforting, something homey, and I didn't want to be the one to have to put it all together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was one of those days- you know, the ones where little irritating things seem to go wrong all day long. My potted plant broke and got dirt all over. I got the whole bed made up with clean sheets and found I had lost two pillow cases which could not be found anywhere. I stubbed my toe about 50 times on the leg of a chair. Just one of those days. Many might say just the simple little irritations of a common, everyday housewife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, when my sweet hubby got home from his long day at work, he sensed my frustration and offered to take us all to dinner. My hero! We went to this family restaurant near our home. Let me tell you, who knew a crispy breaded country fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy (which was the size of Texas, and which I shared with my husband, thankfully!) and an ice cold diet pepsi could solve all my ills?  There is no more comforting thing than snuggling cozy around a table eating good food with my cute little family on a cold rainy night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank heaven for good food, good service, loving family, and cozy warm beds to snuggle into on a fall night. This simple irritable housewife is content.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-230492821600834746?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/230492821600834746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=230492821600834746&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/230492821600834746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/230492821600834746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/10/simple-irritable-housewife-syndromeive.html' title='Simple Irritable Housewife syndrome....I&apos;ve got it, apparently.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6850238321985080904</id><published>2011-10-04T22:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T22:33:20.115-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nice to get away sometimes.</title><content type='html'>Last weekend we took a very short trip to St. George and Zion National Park, and boy, was it needed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband LOVES to hike Angels Landing, but I won't let him do it alone. (I know, mean wife, huh. I also won't let him ride his bike all the way to the top of 2700 S. without a helmet. Call me a shrew if you want to.) But, I lovingly arranged for him to hike with some family members, and Saturday was the most beautiful day to go. (pay no attention to the date stamps on the pictures. My camera thinks it is 2010.) (Oh, and I tried to get the images going the right direction... I think it would take a rocket scientist to get it right! Sorry.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HMoGL6a8JCY/TovdkIifPyI/AAAAAAAAA5k/nSDR47Z5ooU/s1600/summer%2B2011%2B010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HMoGL6a8JCY/TovdkIifPyI/AAAAAAAAA5k/nSDR47Z5ooU/s320/summer%2B2011%2B010.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom, my sister and her kids, and me and my son hiked around the lower portions of Zion&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wOvpoZsYTes/TovcuYQ9zEI/AAAAAAAAA40/PG0x0xXukP0/s1600/summer%2B2011%2B012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wOvpoZsYTes/TovcuYQ9zEI/AAAAAAAAA40/PG0x0xXukP0/s320/summer%2B2011%2B012.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My sister's drool machine, aka cutest baby ever, was in a front carrier and he was the best hiker of all! I had a fun time with the nieces and nephews. I even got to wash out pee'd in underpants in the virgin river!&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lkc7MhnqJLw/Tovc2OzW27I/AAAAAAAAA48/KWDRW18-yXE/s1600/summer%2B2011%2B011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lkc7MhnqJLw/Tovc2OzW27I/AAAAAAAAA48/KWDRW18-yXE/s320/summer%2B2011%2B011.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I know, lucky me! (don't let anyone read this. I don't think you're supposed to do that sort of thing. The deer can do it, and the little squirrels can do it, but little 4 year olds can't I guess.) I'm certain if I'd seen another woman washing out underwear in the river I would have snubbed my nose at her and cast judgement on her, so I welcome it, I guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to search for little shy gnomes hiding in the forrest as I hiked with my cute niece back from seeing the lower Emerald Pool.&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BNV2QpdXCBk/Tovc9O2YFMI/AAAAAAAAA5E/-Ibflv547vs/s1600/summer%2B2011%2B008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BNV2QpdXCBk/Tovc9O2YFMI/AAAAAAAAA5E/-Ibflv547vs/s320/summer%2B2011%2B008.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I was trying to distract her from complaining about not wanting to walk and wanting to be carried. Frankly, I wanted to be carried too! It worked. She couldn't stop talking about gnomes after that! (Yes, folks, I'm that good.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loved not having to fix breakfast for 2 whole days, sitting on the green lawn outside the Zion lodge eating sandwiches, smelling the fresh air of the gorgeous canyon, getting my feet wet in the Virgin, and eating at our favorite mexican place, Paula's. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday my hubby, my son, and I went back for our last dose of Zion for the year. We did the hanging garden trail which we'd never done before and saw a super tiny frog- about an inch long!&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fYQbQ2pfSn4/TovdH6hjGVI/AAAAAAAAA5M/rKCWV6_GBig/s1600/summer%2B2011%2B014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fYQbQ2pfSn4/TovdH6hjGVI/AAAAAAAAA5M/rKCWV6_GBig/s320/summer%2B2011%2B014.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Then my husband talked me into doing the "other" trail connected to the one we were on. Ya, it ended up rising about 300 feet in several switchbacks along a 3 foot wide trail with a sheer drop-off on one side.&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b7V9qebi5UI/TovdQCh5h_I/AAAAAAAAA5U/RH8pFzZ3gWE/s1600/summer%2B2011%2B015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b7V9qebi5UI/TovdQCh5h_I/AAAAAAAAA5U/RH8pFzZ3gWE/s320/summer%2B2011%2B015.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My son kept saying "Ooo mom... don't look down!) I about sold him to the nearest asian. (There were about a hundred of them and they all thought he was cute. It wouldn't have been hard to find a buyer, I'm sure!) &lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8-0-5WIH2hs/TovdW-vE6SI/AAAAAAAAA5c/8gMo0W89UAI/s1600/summer%2B2011%2B016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8-0-5WIH2hs/TovdW-vE6SI/AAAAAAAAA5c/8gMo0W89UAI/s320/summer%2B2011%2B016.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We reluctantly left that afternoon after indulging in a delicious ice cream cone. The drive home was long and a bit forlorn as we know we wouldn't be back for several months. But it was sooo nice to see Zion in the fall. I love that place! And I had such a great time with my family!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6850238321985080904?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6850238321985080904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6850238321985080904&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6850238321985080904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6850238321985080904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/10/nice-to-get-away-sometimes.html' title='Nice to get away sometimes.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HMoGL6a8JCY/TovdkIifPyI/AAAAAAAAA5k/nSDR47Z5ooU/s72-c/summer%2B2011%2B010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1873117251779751241</id><published>2011-09-30T08:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T08:57:08.010-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Must watch!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was a struggle. &lt;br /&gt;Then I watched this, and I felt much better. &lt;br /&gt;Love Pres. Uchdorf!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lds.org/general-conference/watch/2011/10?vid=1180453706001&amp;cid=7&amp;lang=eng"&gt;http://lds.org/general-conference/watch/2011/10?vid=1180453706001&amp;cid=7&amp;lang=eng&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1873117251779751241?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1873117251779751241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1873117251779751241&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1873117251779751241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1873117251779751241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/09/must-watch.html' title='Must watch!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2885719962843092762</id><published>2011-09-26T09:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T09:53:41.278-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Roller coaster and merry-go-round all at once! Pass the barf bag, please!</title><content type='html'>Wow. Ever have one of those weeks that turns into two that turns into three horrible, stressful, no time for anything, weeks? Well, we're going on week three here, people. And let me tell you, I've got more gray hairs! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning started out with me, bright and cheerful (acting... I was only acting!) trying to wake up the kiddo for school. "Get up, Bud. Gotta get up early today so you can practice piano this morning before school!"  Then I went in every 5 minutes for the next 35 minutes to remind him to get up. I finally gave up trying to get him up early enough to practice piano and just let him get up whenever. He dragged himself out of bed 15 minutes before we were supposed to leave, slowly ate his oatmeal and proceeded to fall asleep at the table. I guess he had a bad night or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the entire 13 minute drive to school he cried, screamed, yelled, kicked, gritted his teeth, and squeezed the dickens out of my finger- mad that he had to go to school when he was tired and why did I tell him he would get used to this earlier schedule and why was I making him go to school when he was sleepy. Ya.I've been there before. Not going to take you home. Fun times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't even get into the stress at home right now. Work, unfinished remodeling projects, real estate school, month-end overtime, church callings... (and we haven't even gotten to me yet!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I just wanted to vent to someone, even if it is cyberspace and everyone else just passes this one over. Maybe it's best you do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just wondering, when does the world slow down a bit so we can take a breath and get to know eachother again? Someone stop this ride so I can get off!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2885719962843092762?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2885719962843092762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2885719962843092762&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2885719962843092762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2885719962843092762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/09/roller-coaster-and-merry-go-round-all.html' title='Roller coaster and merry-go-round all at once! Pass the barf bag, please!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4084730944446797846</id><published>2011-09-20T08:53:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T08:53:02.655-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Perspective...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object id="flashObj" width="300" height="225" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,47,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://c.brightcove.com/services/viewer/federated_f9?isVid=1&amp;isUI=1" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;param name="flashVars" value="videoId=1148962599001&amp;linkBaseURL=https%3A%2F%2Flds.org%2Fyouth%2Fvideo%2Fsanctify-yourselves%3Flang%3Deng&amp;playerID=901569084001&amp;playerKey=AQ~~,AAAA0ZXbIXk~,CUDb-EhKU-08yzcLk4G18BkZR0vh0I19&amp;domain=embed&amp;dynamicStreaming=true" /&gt;&lt;param name="base" value="http://admin.brightcove.com" /&gt;&lt;param name="seamlesstabbing" value="false" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="swLiveConnect" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://c.brightcove.com/services/viewer/federated_f9?isVid=1&amp;isUI=1" bgcolor="#FFFFFF" flashVars="videoId=1148962599001&amp;linkBaseURL=https%3A%2F%2Flds.org%2Fyouth%2Fvideo%2Fsanctify-yourselves%3Flang%3Deng&amp;playerID=901569084001&amp;playerKey=AQ~~,AAAA0ZXbIXk~,CUDb-EhKU-08yzcLk4G18BkZR0vh0I19&amp;domain=embed&amp;dynamicStreaming=true" base="http://admin.brightcove.com" name="flashObj" width="300" height="225" seamlesstabbing="false" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" swLiveConnect="true" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/shockwave/download/index.cgi?P1_Prod_Version=ShockwaveFlash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life has been running at full speed the last few weeks. There has been a lot of good, but at times I've felt overwhelmed, occasionally depressed, frustrated.... well, the list goes on. (Am I not describing every mom out there?)  But I watched this video and it put things into perspective. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4084730944446797846?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4084730944446797846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4084730944446797846&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4084730944446797846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4084730944446797846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/09/little-perspective.html' title='A Little Perspective...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3462830746411626741</id><published>2011-09-15T10:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T10:22:33.320-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I knew it was bound to happen...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Ha! Again, Ha! (as my cute grandpa used to say.)&amp;nbsp; I knew I would do it sooner or later, and I was right! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my son's new shorter school schedule, I just KNEW I would be out shopping one day and forget to leave to pick him up. I told myself, Erin, you should set the alarm on your cell phone so you don't forget to leave on time, but did I do it? Of course not! I never listen to my nagging. My husband doesn't, why should I? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was happily picking out fabric for my new sewing venture (which I'll mention another time) when I suddenly had this voice in my head shout "Erin, go pick your son up from school you bad mother, you!"&amp;nbsp; (Yes, the voice is a little condescending!)&amp;nbsp; I looked at my phone for the time and saw I was 5 minutes late in leaving! Yet, here I was with a whole cart full of 6 bolts of fabric, trim, foam, and other sundries. I didn't have time to get it all cut and checked out. What was I to do? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to leave the whole cart there and run out. I barely made it in time to pick up my little guy, but I made it! Phew! We quickly dashed back to the fabric store in the hopes that my cart would still be sitting there, derelict in the corner of the cotton calico section. Alas, some dutiful worker had cleaned it all up. I had to do my shopping all over again. And I ended up deciding I didn't need as much fabric as I thought, so that goes to show you Joann's worker: don't be so hasty to put things away. You make less money! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, it goes to show me- I'd better figure out how to set the alarm on my phone so it doesn't happen again, which I just KNOW it will! *Note to my son's future therapist: Just remember all the other really good things I do like make cookies, cook homemade dinners every night, sing to you in bed, and stay up with you when you're sick. I wasn't so bad after all, was I? So forget the times when I forgot to pick you up from school because I was in fabric heaven at the fabric store. Let me have my moments! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3462830746411626741?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3462830746411626741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3462830746411626741&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3462830746411626741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3462830746411626741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-knew-it-was-bound-to-happen.html' title='I knew it was bound to happen...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2191036070184624110</id><published>2011-09-14T08:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T08:48:01.494-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun at the Fair...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I have gone to the Utah State Fair every year of my entire life (with the exception of one, I think.)&amp;nbsp; See, I grew up about 4 blocks from the fairgrounds. Every year, usually on opening day, we'd come home from school, do our homework, and then my dad would pick us up and we'd walk to the fairgrounds.&amp;nbsp; We'd look at art, and crafts, and giant pumpkins, and I would always be afraid of the huge bulls and pooping cows. We'd squeel at the baby piggies, eat exotic foods, and stuff our faces with way too much carmel apples, cotton candy, and indian fry bread with honey butter.&amp;nbsp; I loved watching all the freaky people that come out of their dark corners of the universe to do the same thing we were doing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, of course, I have continued that tradition with my son. The earlier years were mostly looking at the animals (and yes, am still afraid of the huge bulls, but not as much so;) and riding the ponies, and maybe a ferris wheel or two.&amp;nbsp; But this last trip to the fair was the best of them by far!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son is 10 now. I made him accompany me to the home arts building and the arts and crafts building, and of course, the art building. I was prepared for eye-rolling and a lot of whining. You know what I got? "Mom, look at that! You could make that!" or "Mom, I could totally make that. Do you think we could try one day?" and "Look at that beautiful painting! Look at the use of light and shadow...".&amp;nbsp; My heart swelled within me!!!!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked with our arms around eachother the whole time, ate delicious food, watched a giant cow being milked, (brought back memories of when I was a new mom...) enjoyed a hypnotist show- which I still think is all a hoax, ate slushie drinks and indian fry bread, saw a giant pumpkin almost 900 pounds, learned how bees make honey, watched two parrots mating, and had the best time ever!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for next year! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2191036070184624110?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2191036070184624110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2191036070184624110&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2191036070184624110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2191036070184624110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/09/fun-at-fair.html' title='Fun at the Fair...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-32347813131525972</id><published>2011-09-06T09:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-06T09:29:40.706-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Aaaaaannnnd......we're off!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Couldn't sleep last night. Anxiously awaiting first day of school. Nervous jitters. Fears of not remembering where the class is. Fears of forgetting to bring a sharpened pencil. Fears that traffic will be so bad he doesn't make it to school on time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I told myself to just calm down and chill out! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You got it, the nervous one was me! My son was cool as a cucumber, as always. He marched right into the school like he owned the place. And when I went to give him a gushy goodbye, I'll miss you, be good and listen and don't pick your nose and don't be annoying and remember who you are hug and sloppy mommy kiss I got the quick cheek turn. Yep, he's in 5th grade now. No more mommy smooches I guess. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was strange to drive away from the only school he has ever known, the one he has walked to every day for 6 years since preschool. It was strange to hear the loud speakers of the school from my kitchen window and know that my son was not one of those kids reciting the pledge of allegience.&amp;nbsp; But it was also nice having that quiet time as we drove to his new school downtown. We listened to classical music and felt the warm sunshine beating down on our face as we got on the freeway. It was nice to have a few extra minutes together to just talk before school. Usually it's rush rush rush hurry brush your teeth eat your breakfast no you don't have time to give the dog a kiss goodbye hurry run to school there's the bell goodbye I love you!&amp;nbsp; So I think I might like this new arrangement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, a new school year begins. I am finally calming my nerves. Part of me will miss the summer, but it is definitely good to have him back in school.&amp;nbsp;Now, when do I get to pick him up again? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-32347813131525972?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/32347813131525972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=32347813131525972&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/32347813131525972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/32347813131525972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/09/aaaaaannnndwere-off.html' title='Aaaaaannnnd......we&apos;re off!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-5103020872649656046</id><published>2011-08-31T10:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T10:46:41.850-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Good decision. I love it when I am such a good parent!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Ok. My concerns about messing up my child for life by sending him to private school have been obliterated. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was a parent's meeting at the school with the teachers and it was fantastic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Get this: This school prays every morning before class. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This school recites part of the preamble of the constitution, and various other famous writings&amp;nbsp; every morning.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This school requires each child to memorize a poem every week. (I remember my grandpa telling me he had to do this growing up and always had a great poem to tell.)&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This school takes 6th graders and up to the Shakespearean festival every year to view a play they are reading.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This school has two faculty members (principal included) who work, UNPAID, because they believe in a&amp;nbsp;good education. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; My son's class has 12, count them- 12, students!!!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Every kid learns latin to better their understanding of language and grammar.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The school day is from 8 - 12, so more time for extra-curicular activities. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Aaaaannndddd.... there is a family who lives just a few blocks away from us who wants to carpool so we can each have a week off!!!! I'm sold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am super excited for this year now!!!! Big sigh of relief.... bring it on, baby! (Is it next Tuesday yet?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-5103020872649656046?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/5103020872649656046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=5103020872649656046&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5103020872649656046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5103020872649656046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/08/good-decision-i-love-it-when-i-am-such.html' title='Good decision. I love it when I am such a good parent!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8131021401837770058</id><published>2011-08-18T19:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T19:36:13.622-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"The big hard decision" (or, "My kid is really going to need therapy someday!")</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Ok, let's face it, every parent has NO clue what they are really doing as a parent. It's a shot in the dark when it comes down to it. (And we will never admit this to our kids, right?)&amp;nbsp;We face decisions every day about things that we never encountered when we were kids, that our parents never had to&amp;nbsp;face because there weren't things like internet and cell phones and violent video games. (Asteroids was pretty edgy, I admit, but nothing compared to what is available now!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finding myself constantly scratching my head at some of the choices I have to make as a parent. However,&amp;nbsp;I think I'm doing pretty well, overall. My hubby and I discuss things together and usually agree. My son is reasonably accepting of our decisions with the average amount of "why mom" and "but, but...".&amp;nbsp; And in the end he is really good at complying and moving on. (When I put my foot down about NOT playing Halo under any circumstances whatsoever, he didn't even argue. In fact, he told his friend he didn't think he should play it and to stop bugging him to play it. Pretty impressive if you ask me!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the decision to remove my son from public school and into a private one was pretty difficult, and came with a lot of doubts, fears, uncertainty, and apprehensions. (And many more accompanying words I can't think of right now.)&amp;nbsp; But, the decision has been made and he will be attending a private school this fall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall I think this is going to be a very good move. Parts of me are nervous for change, though. There is no playground or recess. The school day is only 4 hours long. I will now be driving him to and picking him up from school every single day. (Yes I got lazy being able to watch him from our door to the school every day in the comfort of my own home.)&amp;nbsp;I have to fix lunch for him every day now. (Which I loath and despise having to make lunch every day, but will get over eventually after I feel enough guilt for feeding him microwave burritos for the 15th time.) Extra activities like gym and music will have to be done outside of school. (But we've got it covered- piano lessons and swim team.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, why am I nervous? Because it's change. It's something neither my&amp;nbsp; husband or I have ever done. It's different. But sometimes different can be good, right? My son seems to be fine with it, so we should be too. I just hope I'm not setting him up for years of therapy in the future, you know? ("My parents ripped me from the only school I ever knew and sent me to...&amp;nbsp; oh.... I just can't say it..... p-p-p-private sssssschoool!!!!")&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, two more weeks of summer at our house and then.... back to school! I feel like I'm going back to school too. Maybe I should go buy myself some new clothes to celebrate! Sounds like a good plan to me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8131021401837770058?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8131021401837770058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8131021401837770058&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8131021401837770058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8131021401837770058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/08/big-hard-decision-or-my-kid-is-really.html' title='&quot;The big hard decision&quot; (or, &quot;My kid is really going to need therapy someday!&quot;)'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6589209072827226078</id><published>2011-08-17T14:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T14:11:54.229-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Uniform</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;School uniforms:&amp;nbsp; Like or Dislike&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, it's a little of both. I like the ease of shopping for clothes with limited choices, but I still have to buy regular clothes for after school so it's like buying two wardrobes. Blech!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, this year with my kiddo starting at a private school I was a little worried about the uniform policy. But I was happy to hear there is no "special" uniform (ie: ridiculously expensive ugly plaid pants with required wool jackets and ugly brown shoes). In fact, the uniform policy is pretty much the same as his last school with one exception. He can wear ANY color of shirt he wants rather than just three color choices, as long as it is a solid and has a collar! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been shopping like a mad woman buying every color&amp;nbsp;polo shirt&amp;nbsp;under the sun. And the sad thing is my son will probably do his usual "shirt of the week" and wear just ONE shirt for the week, claiming it is perfectly clean and why make all that extra laundry. Ya, he does his own laundry, so you can see his ploy here.&amp;nbsp; (I finally had to make a 2 day shirt rule: if it's been worn for 2 days it goes in the laundry. And yes, that huge ketchup stain on the front means it has to be washed even if it's only been worn once!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yay for all the colors of the rainbow in choices now! I know he doesn't care as much as I do, but it makes me just a little bit happy about school clothes shopping this year.&amp;nbsp; And yes, I did get myself a new purse and some new granola-ish sandals. Hey, a mom needs a little something for herself for shopping so hard for her family, right? I thought so!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6589209072827226078?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6589209072827226078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6589209072827226078&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6589209072827226078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6589209072827226078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/08/uniform.html' title='Uniform'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7920538118943353806</id><published>2011-08-11T09:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T09:51:36.288-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Where have I been???</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I've been:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Splashing at Bear Lake&lt;br /&gt;Hiking Bridal Veil Falls&lt;br /&gt;Strolling around Cascade Springs&lt;br /&gt;Exploring the zoo... twice&lt;br /&gt;Sliding at Seven Peaks&lt;br /&gt;Screaming at Lagoon&lt;br /&gt;Lounging in my back yard&lt;br /&gt;Riding my bike&lt;br /&gt;Playing with nieces and nephews&lt;br /&gt;Watching movies with my hubby and son&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there are still 26 more days left to enjoy before the kid goes back to school!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I plan to:&lt;br /&gt;Feel the burn&amp;nbsp;on several more hikes&lt;br /&gt;Play&amp;nbsp;on a vacation&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy&amp;nbsp;my sister's baby&amp;nbsp;some more&lt;br /&gt;Splash at&amp;nbsp;the aquarium&lt;br /&gt;Slide some more at Seven Peaks&lt;br /&gt;Make at least ONE s'more&lt;br /&gt;Swim at the pool&lt;br /&gt;Explore the copper mines&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy my backyard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And.... harvest a fresh tomato!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, you may not hear from me much until I'm satisfied I've accomplished all I set out to do this summer! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya soon!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7920538118943353806?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7920538118943353806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7920538118943353806&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7920538118943353806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7920538118943353806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/08/where-have-i-been.html' title='Where have I been???'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8303475357305691125</id><published>2011-07-31T22:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-31T22:45:45.636-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Following those promptings...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am trying to better myself. I know, it's a big job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I can't change everything wrong all at once, (there's a lot!)&amp;nbsp;but I can start little by little. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am starting by trying to heed those "little" promptings that come. You know, the little thoughts that tell you to do something and you don't understand why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, yesterday I saw a neighbor outside. She was smoking and looked so sad and depressed. My first thougth was, oh, more drama. But then I had a stronger thought that I should go talk to her. Honestly, I didn't want to. She was smoking and I abhor second hand smoke. But there that thought was and I had promised to not ignore it when it came. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went over to her and asked if she was ok. She proceeded to tell me her brother had just passed away unexpectedly and she was having a hard time dealing with it. I offered words of comfort and support, the best I could. I've never lost someone so close to me like that so how can I know what it's like? But I said what I felt right and left.&lt;br /&gt;Today I found a very sweet card in my mailbox from her and it warmed my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, today at church we were handed notecards with someone's name on it&amp;nbsp;in the Relief Society. We were supposed to write down what we would tell that person if we were talking to them about how much Heavenly Father loves them. I got a lady I don't know really well, but I've been acquainted with her for 10 years and really admire her. I proceeded to write my thoughts down on the paper. I knew we were not intended to give the note to the person, it was just a personal exercise, but I felt prompted to give my note to her. I was nervous. I didn't want to. Why would I hand a random note to someone like that- "Here, I wrote this note in Relief Society for you".&amp;nbsp; But, I promised I would act on those promptings so I sought her out and handed her the note. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if she needed to hear what I had to say, but I hope it helped her feel good. It was good for me to look outside myself and try to serve others around me. I will make an extra effort this week to do more of this. It's gotta be good, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8303475357305691125?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8303475357305691125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8303475357305691125&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8303475357305691125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8303475357305691125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/07/following-those-promptings.html' title='Following those promptings...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6125521615527969324</id><published>2011-07-18T11:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T11:07:25.662-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Coping skills</title><content type='html'>You know it's going to be a hum-dinger of a day when you absolutely MUST have chocolate and it's only 10:00 in the morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the reason you need that chocolate is because your dishwasher won't turn on and wash the hugely full load of dishes inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you decide to take all the dishes out and wash them by hand and realize you hear water running somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you go look for the running water and find the water heater is leaking! So you find the water shut off valve and stop the constant running, all the while wondering how long it was doing that and how big your water bill is going to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you walk back to the kitchen to do your dishes only to find that, of course, there is no more hot water because you shut it off!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you realize you are NOT going to make it to swimming lessons because the repair man is coming for the water heater, and you are NOT going to exercise today because you will be cleaning up water-heater mess, and you are NOT going to shower because there is no hot water anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you start foraging for chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, it's going to be one of those days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6125521615527969324?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6125521615527969324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6125521615527969324&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6125521615527969324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6125521615527969324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/07/coping-skills.html' title='Coping skills'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8236205067627799660</id><published>2011-07-08T10:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T10:43:40.777-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a little bit country... not really...</title><content type='html'>I despise country music. And wranglers. And cowboy boots. And cowboy hats. And guys in cowboy boots and cowboy hats with wranglers on who listen to country music. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I do love the rodeo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go figure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do, however, close my eyes when the guys try to ride those bulls. I close my eyes when the&amp;nbsp;clowns try to distract the bucking horse so the rider can run to safety. &amp;nbsp;I close my eyes when they are trying to rope the calves because I feel bad for those poor little calves. My eyes are pretty much closed most of the time, actually. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why am I dragging my family along to see the Days of 47 Rodeo in a few weeks? Because it's good ol' fashioned family fun! And I told my hubby- who's eye-rolling was actually audible when I told him we were going, by gum- that he was going to love it, so mark my words.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess we'll see if I'm right in a few weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(please be right... please be right... please be right...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8236205067627799660?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8236205067627799660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8236205067627799660&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8236205067627799660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8236205067627799660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/07/im-little-bit-country-not-really.html' title='I&apos;m a little bit country... not really...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7766859353240250782</id><published>2011-07-05T11:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T11:12:56.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This post has not titled because it's pretty boring... for a post about being totally busy, that is.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;The past few weeks have been a bit crazy around here. I can tell because my laundry basket is overflowing, which means I haven't had ANY time to do laundry. (Which also means I don't have any clean clothes to wear.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My two cute nieces came to play for the weekend and we had a great time swimming and playing. I love them!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my other cute niece came to stay for the whole week.... we had a&amp;nbsp;great time going to Seven Peaks and the movies. &amp;nbsp;(By the way, I would rather stick toothpicks in my eye than see "Rango" ever again. Just so you know!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to my mom's and my in-laws and to a baby blessing and at lots of yummy food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we celebrated the 4th by going to Seven Peaks again, watching a movie, lighting fireworks and watching all the cool new legal aerial fireworks all the neighbors bought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today I worked for 3 hours in the yard weeding the gardens. Eck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now I'm totally broke (financially as well as emotionally and physically) and now I need to take my kid to swimming lessons. I thought summer was time to be lazy and bored. Maybe that's just when you're a kid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7766859353240250782?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7766859353240250782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7766859353240250782&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7766859353240250782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7766859353240250782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/07/this-post-has-not-titled-because-its.html' title='This post has not titled because it&apos;s pretty boring... for a post about being totally busy, that is.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8375521584871832117</id><published>2011-06-29T10:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T10:04:56.022-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fond Farewell...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Last night was the 3rd and final showing of the&amp;nbsp;"Lord of the Rings" trilogy.&amp;nbsp; Yes, me,&amp;nbsp;my husband/ LOTR fanatic, (although I don't know how he can really call himself that since has has YET to read the book! Hello... even I've read it!!!!&amp;nbsp; Ok... maybe I skimmed it... mostly.)&amp;nbsp;my son, and even my 10 year old niece&amp;nbsp; all attended.&amp;nbsp; Here is what I learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) There is something physically WRONG with those LOTR addicts. Something in their brains makes it impossible for them to navigate stairs. 3 nights of movies, same set of stairs every time, same people tripping up the SAME stairs... every single time!!!!&amp;nbsp; I even mentioned it to my husband afterword. "Isn't it strange how so many people had such a hard time on those stairs? IT's bizarre!" To which he replied: "Oh, I totally know what you mean. I tripped up those stairs several times, too!"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;( hmmm... shoulda known he'd&amp;nbsp; have trouble... LOTR fanatic!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)&amp;nbsp;All the dads who thought it would be cool to bring their little 7 or 8 year old son to the movie were sooo excited at the beginning. And soooo tired of all the questions by the end! There were like 3 dads around me all saying "Sssshhhh..... just watch. I'll explain it to you later!"&amp;nbsp; Pretty funny, actually! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Not all LOTR geeks are guys.&amp;nbsp; Hello.... 5 girls showed up all dressed like Elf wanna-be's. And they looked ridiculous... until their boyfriends walked in wearing capes as well...(sparkley ones, even) and&amp;nbsp;they looked more ridiculous!&amp;nbsp; And they ALL looked absolutely obsured as they tried to go up the stairs in those long flowing dresses and capes... tripping themselves and eachother!!!! That was my favorite part!&amp;nbsp; Hello People.... LOTR fans +&amp;nbsp; stairs + long costumes= disaster!&amp;nbsp; There should have been a sign posted at the entrance to the theater: CAUTION: THERE ARE STAIRS IN THIS AUDITORIUM. PLEASE, REFRAIN FROM WEARING YOUR CAPES. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) 3 nights at the movies with my sweet little family is priceless!&amp;nbsp; I enjoyed "geeking out" with you all... and enjoyed &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;watching&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; the geeks even more!&amp;nbsp; Goodbye all you freaks!&amp;nbsp; May you have luck emerging from your grandmother's basement to find a worthy mate who will love your elfish fantasies as much as you do! And good luck to the 4 geeks who sat&amp;nbsp;behind us in every movie who are apparently going to win the next video game tournament in Vegas... whatever it is.&amp;nbsp; May you find your way to a shower sometime before then!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8375521584871832117?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8375521584871832117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8375521584871832117&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8375521584871832117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8375521584871832117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/06/fond-farewell.html' title='A Fond Farewell...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7100408359535175971</id><published>2011-06-28T09:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T09:38:07.656-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chick Flicks and Sleep-Overs...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Yesterday I learned a few things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)&amp;nbsp; I CAN survive my son's first away-from-home friend sleepover&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Men CAN enjoy a chick flick... if there's lots of fighting in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son was invited to his first sleep-over last night. I said "yes" before I realized what I was saying. What?! My son can't sleep over at friends houses, he's still too little... or... maybe not. He is 10, I guess that's not too little... is it?&amp;nbsp; My husband had the same reaction.&amp;nbsp;But we gritted our teeth together and let him do it. I kept telling myself, "He's a good kid, right? He makes good choices. He's not going to come home tatooed and with a nose ring.... right?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Well... he's not home yet, so I can't say for sure, but I'm pretty confident he'll be ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, because of this surprise evening free from parental duties, my hubby and I got to go on a spontaneous date! He said I could choose the movie, and I actually chose a chick flick rather than the action movie I usually choose knowing my hubby will sigh and roll his eyes in a chick flick 9 times out of 10 and I'd rather enjoy the chick flick on my own.&amp;nbsp; But, I exercised my womanly rights and we went to see "Water for Elephants". It was excellent! And my hubby loved it as well. True, it did have lots of fighting, and that's venturing into the NON-chick-flick variety, but it had enough romance and drama to please me, too! It was a win-win movie! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Yay for manly chick-flicks and friend sleep-overs! (I think. Like I said, he's not home yet, so maybe not yay, but I'm crossing my fingers for Yay!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7100408359535175971?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7100408359535175971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7100408359535175971&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7100408359535175971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7100408359535175971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/06/chick-flicks-and-sleep-overs.html' title='Chick Flicks and Sleep-Overs...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2708487804815359811</id><published>2011-06-23T18:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T18:53:31.953-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Not  a stand-up-in-the-kitchen-snarfing-it-down kind of dinner, but what you gonna do...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Tonight I made pasta for dinner. Hubby was going mountain biking in the canyons with a friend and I am paranoid my diabetic husband will pass out from low blood sugar, so I made pasta.&amp;nbsp; But not just any pasta. I made Penne pasta in a smoked gouda and white wine cream sauce with sundried tomatoes and artichoke hearts, with garlic and butter shrimp on the top with a crusty parmesan topping. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we snarfed it down while standing up leaning&amp;nbsp;against the kitchen counter. I laughed at the oddity of it all. It was a meal fit for a candlelight dinner with sparkling bubbly and chocolate dipped strawberries, but here we were eating&amp;nbsp;it as though it was Kraft Mac and Cheese and the house was on fire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh... real life. Gotta love it sometimes. &amp;nbsp;At least I sent my husband off with a belly full of deliciousness rather than yellow death. I'm sure it will make his ride that much better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2708487804815359811?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2708487804815359811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2708487804815359811&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2708487804815359811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2708487804815359811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/06/not-stand-up-in-kitchen-snarfing-it.html' title='Not  a stand-up-in-the-kitchen-snarfing-it-down kind of dinner, but what you gonna do...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3982395646742881806</id><published>2011-06-22T09:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T09:38:56.181-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lord of the Rings: Part Deux</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Last night we went to the second "Lord of the Rings" movie.&amp;nbsp; (Yes, it has its own name, and I'm sure all you LOTR fanatics are just mortified that I don't know it off the top of my head, like not knowing the words to the national anthem or something. But I don't know it, ok?)&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;(Ok, I just looked at the DVD, it's "Two Towers". There, are you happy?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what I noticed? A lot more "families" there- men who'd dragged their wife and kids to see it.&amp;nbsp; I heard the guy in front of us whisper to his wife and 8 year old son: "Thanks for geeking out with me this time!"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Frankly, I think he came last week, saw the pathetic state of most of the men's situations around him and said, forget this, I've got a smokin hot wife at home and I need her here to reassure me I'm no loser like these punks! You know I'm right! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I counted exactly how many people tripped going up and down the stairs last night: 18! And many were repeaters... they tripped going up, then back down, then back up again, like they had forgotten there were stairs there.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't believe it! Aaaaaannddd... the stairs have reflective tape on them so they are quite visible. (I went up and down them several times just to test it for myself-&amp;nbsp;without a problem.)&amp;nbsp;I know videogames are supposed to be good for hand/ eye coordination, but has there ever been a test measuring the effects of video gaming on foot/ stair coordination?&amp;nbsp; Maybe they're more used to going up "virtual" stairs rather than real stairs. Many looked as though they hadn't gone up a flight of stairs- successfully- in quite some time.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, next week is the last movie. Yes, we're going. And I think I'll bring a flashlight next time to help those poor souls manage the stairs better. Or perhaps I'll put a little Gollum doll at the top and say "Look to Gollum.... look to Gollum" and they'll make it just fine. :)&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, we had a great time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3982395646742881806?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3982395646742881806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3982395646742881806&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3982395646742881806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3982395646742881806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/06/lord-of-rings-part-deux.html' title='Lord of the Rings: Part Deux'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8186778901152810046</id><published>2011-06-15T10:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T10:08:12.086-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lord of the Obsession</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;My hubby and I thought it would be fun to go see "Lord of the Rings" in the theater last night for their special return engagement. (Ok, my hubby thought it more than I did. And then my son caught wind of it and HE was ecstatic, so we had to go.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was designated to go reserve our seats beforehand because hubby and son were on a scout hike. So, like a dutiful wife I bought my ticket, got some popcorn and cold drink for the hikers when they returned because I knew they'd be hungry and thirsty, trudged up the steps to the theater and found 3 seats in a good spot before all the rest were quickly snatched up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat patiently waiting in the air-conditioned auditorium, I began to notice something. I did NOT fit in. I began to catch snippets of conversations around me and they all carried the same peculiar theme. They all managed to slip in terms like Middle Earth, Frodo, Hobbits, etc&amp;nbsp; into&amp;nbsp;sentences seemingly unrelated to the movie in any way. I soon realized these people were not only obsessed with this movie, but couldn't carry on a conversation on ANY topic without referring in some way to the movie! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chanced a look around the place. Sure enough, my suspicions were correct. I had deduced a few things about these people in listening to them and to see them it was clear:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) most of the audience was single. (and very easy to see why)&lt;br /&gt;2) most didn't own a razor, or didn't know how to find a decent hair dresser&lt;br /&gt;3) ALL were LOTR experts. And every one had a very strong opinion about things in the movie that, had THEY been consulted, would have been much better. (as though it was perfectly natural for Joe Schmoe to be phoned up and asked what he thought should be done with the Gollum character.)&lt;br /&gt;4) They all had something else in common (as though the previous 3 weren't enough), they all talked about gaming, and seemed to be equally obsessed with gaming as with LOTR. When a preview came on about a video game being made into a movie the audience collectively gasped and became actually giddy! &lt;br /&gt;5) Not a one of them could manage stairs in the dark carrying a drink and popcorn without stumbling and spilling said items! I counted at least 8 people having difficulty with this! (probably because they were too afraid to look away from the screen perchance&amp;nbsp;something might have changed&amp;nbsp; in the movie that hadn't been there the other 465 times they'd watched it before).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the guy next too me seemed to think there was something totally wrong about a normal looking housewife with flipped hair, sparkly lip gloss and a freshly laundered blouse attending this particular event. Honestly, I began to think that myself! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when my hubby and son finally showed up about 20 minutes into the movie, and my son curled up next to me and began excitedly&amp;nbsp;asking questions about certain things in the movie, and my hubby held my hand and whispered "this is so fun", I began to think that maybe I belonged there after all. Sandwiched between my two favorite men in the whole world- who just might fit in too easily with the rest of the crowd if it wasn't for my gentle, guiding hand. (And my&amp;nbsp;clothes washing and hair cutting abilities!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we are&amp;nbsp;going to see the second movie next week. I think I'll bake cookies for all the schmoes around me as I save our seats. (it's scout night again). Maybe I can even offer some motherly guidance to those poor souls and help them maybe be able to bring an actual date to the next one in another week.&amp;nbsp; We'll set some goals.&amp;nbsp; But I know I'll love snuggling up to my guys again and enjoying what they enjoy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe I&amp;nbsp;just might catch the fever. Maybe.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8186778901152810046?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8186778901152810046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8186778901152810046&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8186778901152810046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8186778901152810046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/06/lord-of-obsession.html' title='Lord of the Obsession'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-163739552867109938</id><published>2011-06-13T09:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T09:51:45.628-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing like fun with the cousins!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Last weekend I was able to take my little buddy up to my mom's house. All the cousins were there. (Yes, all 6 kids together... I was popping Advil like crazy!)&amp;nbsp; I went up to help my mom watch my sister's kids while she recovers from bringing her newest little one into the world. My mom is living in South Carolina until November, so she doesn't have internet or cable hooked up right now. We were wondering how the kids would entertain themselves if they couldn't play computer games or watch tv. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what? They found a way:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotoTheaterCaption" class="spotlight" height="240" src="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/254233_1950561398567_1078565513_2213393_1294013_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother and his wife came over with their two girls and he built all the kids a tree house in the vacant lot behind my mom's house! They made a flag out of an old pillow case and I drew the skull and swords. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotoTheaterCaption" class="spotlight" src="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/255086_1950598279489_1078565513_2213413_6688179_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a big parade to post the flag:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotoTheaterCaption" class="spotlight" height="300" src="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/253559_1950562238588_1078565513_2213394_8269942_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotoTheaterCaption" class="spotlight" height="300" src="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/247353_1950563038608_1078565513_2213395_4963386_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the kids spent the entire next two days playing in that tree house! I thank my brother and his wife for being our salvation! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what to do the rest of the summer?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-163739552867109938?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/163739552867109938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=163739552867109938&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/163739552867109938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/163739552867109938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/06/nothing-like-fun-with-cousins.html' title='Nothing like fun with the cousins!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3609694120652333202</id><published>2011-06-02T10:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T10:29:10.602-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Love of gardening gene... I was absent that day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I don't like gardening. That is to say, I do love picking fresh tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, herbs, zucchini, carrots... etc. And I love watching them grow and fill in the garden. I also love watching my flowers begin to bloom and fill the front of the house with color. However, I do NOT like to dig in the dirt. Nope. Not one bit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard many "green thumbs" say how much they love to get their hands in the soil and work it and feel it under their feet. I am not one of those people. I HATE getting dirt on my hands. I hate digging it out of my manicured fingernails. (Ok, manicured is a very loose term. I paint my nails about once a year, but I do keep them nicely smoothed and rounded. Ok, well I try to. Sometimes.)&amp;nbsp; And what I hate most is getting the garden ready to... well... garden. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every spring when the weather is wet and rainy the grass grows and becomes thick and lush and green. It does that in my garden, too. And it's too wet to go out and dig it out while it's new, so by the time it's dry enough to go do some yard work the grass in my garden has grown a foot tall and is thick and firmly rooted.&amp;nbsp; The same goes for my flower garden. There is one patch that just won't stay free of grass. Grrrrr....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today as I sat digging out the grass, digging deeply then pulling hard with both hands, dirt spraying all over my face, in my hair, down my shirt, into my shoes, on my legs. Well, I wasn't loving it. I thought about how little kids will sit in a dirt pile and pour dirt on their heads and laugh. Well you know what? I don't think it's funny! And I didn't do that as a child. I'm sure of it! (However, I did eat dirt, but that's an entirely different thing. I still sometimes smell it and remember how good it tasted. No, I haven't eaten it since I was at least 5!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I just have to remind myself how good those home-grown tomatoes will taste, and how pretty those flowers will look, and how I won't have to duck my head in shame as I leave my house and see my grass over-grown garden and see my neighbor's perfectly hand-clipped and trimmed yard. At least I'll have some pretty veggies and flowers to show off.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incidentally, my son decided yesterday to go out while I was at the grocery store and weed some of the garden for me so I didn't have to do it all today. Isn't that the sweetest thing ever? And I didn't even ask him to do it! He said it was because he wanted to do what Jesus would have him do. That just melted my whole dirt-encrusted heart!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3609694120652333202?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3609694120652333202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3609694120652333202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3609694120652333202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3609694120652333202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/06/love-of-gardening-gene-i-was-absent.html' title='Love of gardening gene... I was absent that day.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-9115039818702775718</id><published>2011-06-01T09:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T09:37:32.349-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings about my little kiddo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Sometimes I wonder how I got put in charge of raising a boy such as mine. I look at him and see him grow each day. (Sometimes I think I should&amp;nbsp;do something&amp;nbsp;to stunt his growth so he can stay as little as possible for as long as possible!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I'm kidding, of course!)&amp;nbsp; I am impressed with the person he is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we have family scripture study, he doesn't say "Awe... Mom! I don't want to!" In fact, I don't think I have ever heard him say that during scripture study&amp;nbsp;... EVER! (I can't even count on two hands and feet the number of times I said that as a child to my own mom, though!)&amp;nbsp; And I love hearing him read from the scriptures. I am convinced that regular scripture reading by children increases their overall reading abilities immeasurably.&amp;nbsp; He sounds out the difficult words and nearly always gets them right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am impressed with the good choices he makes, too. If there is a show on television that doesn't look good, he will turn it off. Or if his friends want to watch something he knows isn't good he will tell them no, and that it isn't good for them! He is always mindful of those around him. He is so tender with his little cousins, too. Always making sure they are ok. If someone gets hurt he is there immediately trying to make them laugh. I just love that about him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son makes me want to be a better person. When I'm having a crabby "mom" day, he tenderly puts his arm around me and asks how he can make me happy. He always brings me flowers. I love that! He helps me make my bed. He does his chores without complaining (most of the time). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be the best mom I can to him. I want to make sure I play with him as much as possible, and enjoy this time I have with him. Only 9 years until he goes on his mission. And those teenage years are fastly approaching where he will rather be with his friends than his mommy. But maybe if I stock the refridgerator with Sunny D and make homemade cookies, just maybe my house will be the cool house and I can at least listen to him play with his friends.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is coming to the end of his 4th grade year. We are making some big decisions about his future right now. I am nervous for change, but at the same time I see good things are possible.&amp;nbsp; He is a good kid. He will adapt quickly to whatever change comes his way. I just have one shot at this- helping one child turn out right. I hope I don't mess up! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll just keep trying my best. He is a great motivation for that. And he loves my homemade cookies, so I'd better get baking!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-9115039818702775718?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/9115039818702775718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=9115039818702775718&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9115039818702775718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9115039818702775718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/06/ramblings-about-my-little-kiddo.html' title='Ramblings about my little kiddo'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4180246080571990751</id><published>2011-05-24T14:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T14:29:58.049-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What I learned on my 4th grade field trip to This is the Place Heritage Park today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Lesson #1:&amp;nbsp; If you think you're prepared for a busload of screaming 10 year olds... think again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson #2:&amp;nbsp; Promise your group candy at the end of the field trip if they behave perfectly. They will behave like angels! (turns out the candy store was closed, but they didn't know that until AFTER the field trip was over! hee hee)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson #3:&amp;nbsp; repeat these words in your head about every 20 minutes: "It's only 4 hours... it's only 4 hours... it's only 4 hours". (No, you can't bring a hip flask to "help" you through this mantra, either.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson #4: some people's kids only seem like brats until you talk with them or if you are really nice to them. Other people's kids really are brats- through, and through. Those are the kids you make be in the teacher's group!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson #5: IT's ok to be the "fun" mom on a field trip. IT really does make the day go better if you have fun along with the kids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson #6: Be prepared to sink into a catatonic state upon your arrival home. Be sure to have a bag of Doritos, a cold diet coke, and some chocolate within arms reach before collapsing on the bed. You won't be moving off your bed for about 2 hours. (Who knows how those teachers go a whole school year without totally losing it?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson#7: Go on as many field trips with your kid as possible. You will be so glad you did, and more importantly you kid will. (when I walked into my son's room today all the kids perked up and said "Oooo... *bleep's* mom is coming! She comes on every field trip we have, and she's awesome!"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Ya... that made my whole day right there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4180246080571990751?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4180246080571990751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4180246080571990751&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4180246080571990751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4180246080571990751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/05/what-i-learned-on-my-4th-grade-field.html' title='What I learned on my 4th grade field trip to This is the Place Heritage Park today...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-867117259379752487</id><published>2011-05-23T09:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T09:55:09.595-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How did I get so lucky?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am soooo proud of my little family, I just have to take this tiny moment to brag a bit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we presented the sacrament meeting program in church. I really wanted to teach&amp;nbsp;my little guy how to give a "real" talk this time. He's 10 years old and I knew he could do it. So I sat him down one day with The Friend magazine and told him to pick a story he would base his talk off of. He had already read several of the stories, so he picked his favorite one- about being positive- and went from there. I then had him think of a few personal experiences that went along with the idea of positive thinking and how prayer helps us have a good attitude. He came up with two, and we included them in his talk. We then put in a few scriptures and a quote from a General Authority, and I typed it all up for him.&amp;nbsp; His talk ended up being almost 4 minutes, and he did such a good job! He spoke clearly, and even looked up from his paper at the audience like we had talked about! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spoke as well, despite the fact that I had completely lost my voice two days before, and had to forego singing at a funeral of a dear friend the day before. However, I was able to speak yesterday, so I was very glad. I spoke about truly dedicating ourselves to the gospel rather than waiting around for some divine revelation. I felt good about how I did, overall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hubby and son then played "Families Can Be Together Forever" on the piano together, and they did a really good job! I was thrilled!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hubby then spoke about making and keeping covenants with Heavenly Father. His talks are always so much more spiritual than mine, I think. I really admire him for his ability to write a deep talk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, my hubby sang a solo. (I was shocked when he suggest he sing a solo since I couldn't sing a duet with him.)&amp;nbsp; The organ accompanied him and there was a beautiful violin obligatto part. It was so beautiful, I got the chills! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came home from that high at church (and relief it was all over, of course~) and began getting ready for my family to come over for our massive May birthday party together. (Me, my sister, and my brother's birthdays are all within a week of eachother. It's like Christmas in May!)&amp;nbsp; IT was so fun to see everyone, and we managed to squeeze into our tiny house once again. I am always amazed that we can fit everyone- however tightly- into our home. It really helped to be able to bannish the kids to the basement to eat and play! Thank Heaven for that family room and second kitchen! What a sanity saver!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want the fun day to end last night, but I sure have good memories about it all now! I love my family!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-867117259379752487?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/867117259379752487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=867117259379752487&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/867117259379752487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/867117259379752487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/05/how-did-i-get-so-lucky.html' title='How did I get so lucky?'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6889984114720360272</id><published>2011-05-20T09:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T09:17:57.407-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wicked fun!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Last week we took a quick little trip up to Boise to see "Wicked".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few thoughts on this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1: I forgot how....how shall I put it.... boring, the landscape is in Idaho.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Ok, it is beautiful, in a way. But there is just field after field after field after field after field. I remember making the drive through Idaho way back when I was going to Ricks college. The drive to Boise was no different. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2: I LOVE road trips with my little family!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;My son is soooo amazingly good on road trips. He doesn't complain about how long it's taking, or being cramped or bored! Of course, it helps to have an endless stream of movies available at his fingertips, (how did the pioneers EVER do it without dvd's?)&amp;nbsp;but he doesn't always watch movies. Sometimes I'll see him gazing out the windows and commenting on the beauty of the scenery.&amp;nbsp; Where did this kid come from? I don't know, but I"ll keep him! &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I always bring a good book along to read aloud to my hubby. It makes the time pass quickly and I just love it! Also, pre-sliced cheese and apples, crackers, beef jerky, banana chips, and M&amp;amp;M peanuts are a MUST!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wnd5Nk1cBSQ/TdaDlVgzE6I/AAAAAAAAA4I/1_bcESm4AkU/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wnd5Nk1cBSQ/TdaDlVgzE6I/AAAAAAAAA4I/1_bcESm4AkU/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+003.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(Eason in the hotel, dressed up for the show. Wet swimming suit hanging on doorknob!)&lt;br /&gt;#3: Not all performances of "Wicked" are created equal. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Saw it for the first time in London and it was SPECTACULAR!!!! Saw it again in Salt Lake and it was pretty dang good. Saw it in Boise and it was good. I'm afraid to see it again, actually... at this rate of success. No, it was really fun and my neices LOVED it. They were panting all over Fiyero, of course. And we sang the soundtrack all the way home- seriously, for 5 hours straight! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stayed in a nice hotel, ate a delicious seafood dinner, (yes, seafood in Boise... I know, but it was good.) had a lot of fun at Wicked, and I think my husbands favorite part was the Peregrine Falcon habitat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PLPpppic_tI/TdaDn3akkXI/AAAAAAAAA4M/uYW6FGUpI9U/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PLPpppic_tI/TdaDn3akkXI/AAAAAAAAA4M/uYW6FGUpI9U/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+004.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;We saw a sign for it on the freeway when we were just about to go home. Of course, Peregrine Falcons are his absolute favorite birds, so we had to go. It was really neat. And we found out the place also breeds the endangered Condors there! Pretty cool! (this isn't a peregrine, it's a Harrier something.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HqL_5sYXMO4/TdaDq5JwEBI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/RjmPxQfK9Es/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HqL_5sYXMO4/TdaDq5JwEBI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/RjmPxQfK9Es/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+006.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YRTiAac0ww4/TdaD31Eyf5I/AAAAAAAAA4Y/OS2UN4nRkGs/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YRTiAac0ww4/TdaD31Eyf5I/AAAAAAAAA4Y/OS2UN4nRkGs/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+007.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(wingspan of a condor. Apparently they are very aggressive and will attack grown men at any given moment! Mommys, too!)&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qnkRewBDNrc/TdaD6fPH5cI/AAAAAAAAA4c/eOX66aTc4s0/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qnkRewBDNrc/TdaD6fPH5cI/AAAAAAAAA4c/eOX66aTc4s0/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+008.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Yay road trip! Yay for "Wicked", yay for a VERY obedient kid and a generous husband, and me for packing all the food and reading for 5 hours straight each way. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6889984114720360272?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6889984114720360272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6889984114720360272&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6889984114720360272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6889984114720360272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/05/wicked-fun.html' title='Wicked fun!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wnd5Nk1cBSQ/TdaDlVgzE6I/AAAAAAAAA4I/1_bcESm4AkU/s72-c/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-941452216513427395</id><published>2011-05-18T10:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T10:35:44.007-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pinewood Derby, Part Two: Divine Intervention!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I4zstvVNzTQ/TdPz0s6YerI/AAAAAAAAA30/azG5nKjBV6k/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I4zstvVNzTQ/TdPz0s6YerI/AAAAAAAAA30/azG5nKjBV6k/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+009.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. We he made his car and painted it (with a little help, of course), took it to the derby last night, placed it on the track, and.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"&gt;WON FIRST PLACE!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jya3ll3RrRo/TdPw6Iz1bbI/AAAAAAAAA3o/3t7utaQtk10/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jya3ll3RrRo/TdPw6Iz1bbI/AAAAAAAAA3o/3t7utaQtk10/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+021.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We went with NO expectations. I mean NOOOOOO expectations. I nailed in the wheels about 10 minutes before we left for the race, and I don't know what I'm doing! But we went to have fun, right? &lt;br /&gt;Well, after the VERRRRRRYYYYYY long winded track-owner guy gave a 40 minute (no exaggeration here) lecture on how much he paid for the track and how a kid dented one of the lanes and how we will all sign over our first-born children and their children's children if anyone even looks at his track wrong, and the longest description of how the race will work and how scoring will work and how parents need to stay out of his face and kids will forfeit their place on the board if they don't get their car on the right track... blah blah.. you get the idea. We finally began the race. And guess what....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uN1ECHm4XtQ/TdPzuFhsgfI/AAAAAAAAA3s/sJvQ1mEFI-s/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uN1ECHm4XtQ/TdPzuFhsgfI/AAAAAAAAA3s/sJvQ1mEFI-s/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+010.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-size: large;"&gt;His car finished first.... by a whole car length!&lt;/span&gt; I stopped gabbing with my neighbor when I saw, and I KNOW my mouth was open and my face showed the shock I was feeling.&amp;nbsp; Well, I thought, that's a nice way to start out the race. I'm glad he got to finish at least one race first, that will make him feel good.&amp;nbsp; Then, he raced again... and came in first! And then again, and again, and again, and again!!! At one point he came up to me and whispered with this dumbfounded look on his face "Mom, did you see that? I can't believe I'm coming in first! Do you think I might win?" Only 1 race did he not come in first, and that was the dented lane that was slowing down all the cars when they'd race in it, and he came in 2nd! He made the final four, obviously, and.... finished 1st in every one! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1HgjbmZD4wE/TdPz8NLc2gI/AAAAAAAAA38/x_mSDSAokZs/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1HgjbmZD4wE/TdPz8NLc2gI/AAAAAAAAA38/x_mSDSAokZs/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+017.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we were all in shock!&amp;nbsp; People kept coming up to us after and asking to see the car, wanting to know what "tricks" we'd used to make such a fast car. Honestly, we have no clue! To bring it up to weight we drilled three penny-sized holes in the bottom (my idea) to put pennies in. Apparently the planets were alligned just right because we did something right! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I really think we owe it all to our dear friend Sid. He passed away last week, and he sooo wanted to help our little guy with his car this year. We had arranged to have them work together but his health became so poor he just couldn't do it. I th&lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt;ink he was behind the car the whole night pushing it on&lt;/span&gt;- what else could it have been? Thank you, Sid. You made a little 10 year old VERY happy last night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went out to his favorite restaurant to celebrate after. Training Table burgers make everything better, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U3HH0plZ2Z0/TdPz_TIyRcI/AAAAAAAAA4A/_fpNn9GFEqs/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U3HH0plZ2Z0/TdPz_TIyRcI/AAAAAAAAA4A/_fpNn9GFEqs/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+023.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is just great to see the "underdog" win once in a while, ya know? We had no chance in *bleep* and we did it! I am so proud of my little guy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gl8uEoEBn5k/TdP0Bq0PSlI/AAAAAAAAA4E/X18SvvChp2M/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gl8uEoEBn5k/TdP0Bq0PSlI/AAAAAAAAA4E/X18SvvChp2M/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+024.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ladies and Gentlemen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;give you.....&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt; "THE WRATH BRINGER"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; (yep. that's the name. And he sure "brought it"!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-poc32f56BgU/TdPz4qtgp5I/AAAAAAAAA34/Qhl1XD6NnJ0/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-poc32f56BgU/TdPz4qtgp5I/AAAAAAAAA34/Qhl1XD6NnJ0/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+014.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uN1ECHm4XtQ/TdPzuFhsgfI/AAAAAAAAA3s/sJvQ1mEFI-s/s1600/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uN1ECHm4XtQ/TdPzuFhsgfI/AAAAAAAAA3s/sJvQ1mEFI-s/s320/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+010.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-941452216513427395?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/941452216513427395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=941452216513427395&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/941452216513427395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/941452216513427395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/05/pinewood-derby-part-two-divine.html' title='Pinewood Derby, Part Two: Divine Intervention!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I4zstvVNzTQ/TdPz0s6YerI/AAAAAAAAA30/azG5nKjBV6k/s72-c/Spring+2011%252C+Pinewood+derby+009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1641645480306373030</id><published>2011-05-17T14:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T14:55:15.161-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Yeah... it's Pinewood Derby Time, Baby!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Question #1:&amp;nbsp; Why do people get so "into" this whole pinewood derby thing? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year there were something like 40 races total to determine the winner. 40? Really? When I saw that number up on the whiteboard at the gym I thought, this can't be right. We won't really have to watch 40 races right? Wrong. We had to watch more like 50 because all the leaders and parents and on-lookers who had brought their own cars had to have a chance to race them after the cub scouts had finished! Really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question #2: Who is this really for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year the parents spent more time rounding up their cub scouts- who were having more fun flipping coins against the wall at the other end of the gym- to come race their car again. "You wanna see if you win, don't you?"&amp;nbsp; Well, isn't it obvious they don't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, as I said before, the parents line up at the end to get a chance to race their own&amp;nbsp;creations. They looked more excited than their children who,&amp;nbsp;after having been drug up to the front for 40 different races,&amp;nbsp; couldn't care less about their parent's cars and just wanted to go home and eat something other than cheap hotdogs and stale chips. I think it's obvious who this is really for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question #3: What parent really lets their kid actually do his entire car himself without "aiding" even a little tiny bit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, all that aside, we are participating again this year. However, my son seems more interested this time than last time. We'll see though when we actually get there and there are only 32 more races to go before the end where the parents get their 10 races each, and the kids are scooting their heads along the gym floor to see who's hair can stand out the furthest with static electricity and whining occasionally about wanting to go home because they're board.&amp;nbsp; And we'll be sure to file down those wheel axles and powder those thingamajigs and align the whatchacallits.&amp;nbsp; Because that's just what you have to do to win, apparently. My poor kid, though. He has two very... shall we say... NON-competetive parents. I couldn't care less about the race, I just want his car to look cool. (And pink, but I couldn't persuade my very masculine son to paint his car pink with white clouds like I wanted. Darn it.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we get to go bask in cub-scout heaven tonight. Wish us luck. And lots of migraine medicine. I'm sure I'll need it.&amp;nbsp; Yay Pinewood Derby!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1641645480306373030?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1641645480306373030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1641645480306373030&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1641645480306373030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1641645480306373030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/05/oh-yeah-its-pinewood-derby-time-baby.html' title='Oh Yeah... it&apos;s Pinewood Derby Time, Baby!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1656583911458782154</id><published>2011-05-03T10:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T10:15:51.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Royal Addiction...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Ok. It could be that I am becoming just a little bit out of control obsessed with the Royal Wedding. I just pre-ordered my own copy of all the &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Royal-Wedding-Official-Album/dp/B004RCNPCM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;qid=1304439255&amp;amp;sr=8-1"&gt;wedding music performed during the ceremony&lt;/a&gt;. Well? It was beautiful! And having been at Westminster Abbey, I can close my eyes and almost feel like I am there again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I will probably &lt;a href="http://xfinitytv.comcast.net/specials/royalwedding?cmpid=XFTV_royal_EMSU_042811"&gt;watch the whole ceremony&lt;/a&gt; again this afternoon as a reward for getting myself to exercise today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I will probaby pull up the pictures of the royal wedding cake again. &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/britishmonarchy/5669677334/in/set-72157626482739185"&gt;They are gorgeous!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it is an addiction. But, if obsession with the royal wedding is wrong,&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; I don't wanna be right!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1656583911458782154?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1656583911458782154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1656583911458782154&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1656583911458782154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1656583911458782154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/05/royal-addiction.html' title='Royal Addiction...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-9030472365703585389</id><published>2011-05-02T11:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-02T11:24:59.256-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Royal Bliss!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am a sucker for weddings. I can't deny it. And I cry at every single one! (Except my own. For some reason I was in too much bliss on my own wedding day to get weepy.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, you can imagine what a basket case I've been this weekend with the Royal Wedding of William and Kate! My husband and son, however, do not share my sappy nature when it comes to the Royal Wedding. They've spend much of the weekend rolling their eyes. And my son has been ranting every time he sees me watching footage of the wedding, or on the lives of the bride and groom- "Why?! Why do women love this royal wedding stuff so much? Who cares????"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Yes, he is a typical male. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even got to attend a real wedding ceremony at the beautiful Red Butte Gardens on Saturday, and it was so beautiful. The ceremony took place in their Orangery, a glass enclosed room with the backdrop of thousands of yellow daffodils coated with a thin blanket of fresh snow. And the ceremony itself took place while large, white snowflakes fell quietly&amp;nbsp;in the background.&amp;nbsp; The food was decadent, the music fantastic, and I held my eternal companion's hand the whole time. And yes, I cried! (and I didn't even know the couple!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, some may think the Royal Wedding is ridiculous, but, I love it, nonetheless. So I am sitting here on my bed, folding laundry, watching the ceremony- again- and weeping! And I love it!!!!! "Marriage is happy news" as is said in my favorite movie- "Moonstruck".&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-9030472365703585389?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/9030472365703585389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=9030472365703585389&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9030472365703585389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9030472365703585389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/05/royal-bliss.html' title='Royal Bliss!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4747547479182731127</id><published>2011-04-20T20:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T20:01:46.839-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One Step Closer...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am so tired of people asking how my kitchen is coming&amp;nbsp;and my response being: "Great. It's almost done. I only have the ceiling left to paint, and the edging to do...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, instead of making dinner tonight I did something else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I painted the ceiling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except for the edges... which I can't reach... because I'm short... and afraid of heights...on that big, tall ladder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now my answer will be "Great, it's almost done! I just have the edging to to!"&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One step closer!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4747547479182731127?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4747547479182731127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4747547479182731127&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4747547479182731127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4747547479182731127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/04/one-step-closer.html' title='One Step Closer...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7690946899868465670</id><published>2011-04-15T09:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T09:29:19.050-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I wanna be the hot grandma!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Yesterday I saw a cute little old lady walking her two dogs. She must have been in her 80's. She was just taking cute little tiny steps as her two little black poodles scampered next to her. She had on cute little work-out pants. She had her cute little sun visor shading her eyes. She had on her toning shoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait... what? Toning shoes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began thinking of a saggy, wrinkly 80-something butt. Would toning shoes really help? And when I'm 80-ish will I really care if my caboose is toned?&amp;nbsp; I don't know... maybe.&amp;nbsp; But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this lady still takes good care of herself, which probably makes her happier. And look great from behind!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, maybe I will care after all when I'm that old. I came home, strapped on my toning shoes, and set that&amp;nbsp;mental picture in my mind of how I want to look, as I'm working out. &amp;nbsp;(You know, that mental picture you have of skinny legs, no jiggling... the- workout- will- be- all- worth- it- because- it'll -make- me- look- like- that&amp;nbsp; mental picture?) Except, my mental picture changed. I am now speed-walking 2 miles a day to look like that cute little old lady with the great butt! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, maybe not. But it's not a bad thing to shoot for after all. It's like the really big picture- the one WAAAAY down the road. And it's good to have the future in mind, right. I wanna be the HOT grandma!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7690946899868465670?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7690946899868465670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7690946899868465670&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7690946899868465670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7690946899868465670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-wanna-be-hot-grandma.html' title='I wanna be the hot grandma!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-5164500520635242850</id><published>2011-04-12T11:55:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-12T12:10:58.475-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Progress is progress!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Remember when my kitchen looked like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4uUtzJuAXaw/TaSQOG4I94I/AAAAAAAAA3U/mrFRBVlDzLY/s1600/SD531610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4uUtzJuAXaw/TaSQOG4I94I/AAAAAAAAA3U/mrFRBVlDzLY/s320/SD531610.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;And then this: (giant gaping hole in the side of our house in the cold&amp;nbsp;of October!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FiElZC73pew/TaSQSAJJ1YI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/PTaop4QszOA/s1600/SD531615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FiElZC73pew/TaSQSAJJ1YI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/PTaop4QszOA/s320/SD531615.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;And this mess? I sure remember it!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNrgvQwRwEA/TaSQBOgUCqI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/s-EYrU8kIXU/s1600/February+2011+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNrgvQwRwEA/TaSQBOgUCqI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/s-EYrU8kIXU/s320/February+2011+012.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Well, it's almost done! We now have this in place of the giant gaping hole: (sorry, the light is bad.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8M4cId3okaM/TaSQ_WqIVAI/AAAAAAAAA3c/1VIhpzliP40/s1600/kitchen+remodel+2011+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8M4cId3okaM/TaSQ_WqIVAI/AAAAAAAAA3c/1VIhpzliP40/s320/kitchen+remodel+2011+020.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;And this where all that construction stuff was!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fz22QC94hjY/TaSRC7v5TOI/AAAAAAAAA3g/upUrpkIDbgE/s1600/kitchen+remodel+2011+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fz22QC94hjY/TaSRC7v5TOI/AAAAAAAAA3g/upUrpkIDbgE/s320/kitchen+remodel+2011+018.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Now all that's left is to paint the ceiling, do a few little "finishes"&amp;nbsp;and fix a small part of the floor that refuses to cooperate! Yay!!! (I love my pretty smooth glass tile backsplash. I run my hands across it several times a day! My husband is getting jealous, I think.)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Oh, and if you're interested,&lt;a href="http://www.hgtv.com/income-property/show/index.html"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Income Property&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;is our new favorite show around our house. It is about turning people's homes into income properties! We LOVE the before and afters! You can watch it&lt;a href="http://www.hgtv.com/income-property/show/index.html"&gt; here&lt;/a&gt;.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-5164500520635242850?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/5164500520635242850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=5164500520635242850&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5164500520635242850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5164500520635242850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/04/progress-is-progress.html' title='Progress is progress!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4uUtzJuAXaw/TaSQOG4I94I/AAAAAAAAA3U/mrFRBVlDzLY/s72-c/SD531610.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6339358259061864104</id><published>2011-04-06T11:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T11:36:23.052-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Who do you think you are?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;This show makes me cry every single time I watch it. (Which is usually when I'm trying to work out on the treadmill, which is impossible when you are crying, at which point I usually collapse onto the couch with a big wad of tissues unil I've cried it all out, then finally end up turning off the episode until I am through with my workout so I can cry and not risk breaking my neck falling off the treadmill!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminds me how strong the bond of family is, and how far back it reaches throughout our family tree. The amazing people we come from, and how they are all up in Heaven aware of us and rooting for us, and cheering us on, and telling us we can do it because they did it, and we are part of them! (Now see, I'm getting choked up again!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch it today if you haven't seen it before.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.nbc.com/who-do-you-think-you-are/"&gt;http://www.nbc.com/who-do-you-think-you-are/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hubby and I are going to be taking a family history class in church together. We have been meaning to do it for a very long time, but I will admit it is very daunting to me. I took a genealogy class in college (9:00 AM, freshman year... not a good combination.) and didn't do so great. (I think I pulled a C...&amp;nbsp;and not without a LOT of begging.) So I am quite nervous about it, but hopefully I will catch the "fire" and feel inspired.&amp;nbsp;Although I don't know if I'm quite ready for visitants from the other side of the veil to prod me along in my family research. I think I might keel over with a heart attack if that were to happen. I told my husband if anyone were to visit him to please tell them he does his entertaining in the livingroom so as not to freak out his wife.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this show "Who do you think you are" is certainly sparking that fire within! (This particular episode had me just sobbing!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object align="middle" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" height="354" id="" width="512"&gt; &lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt; &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /&gt; &lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.nbc.com/assets/video/5-0/swf/DirectWidget.swf?CXNID=1000004.10060NXC&amp;amp;widID=49d06ba1523528c3&amp;amp;configXML=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nbc.com%2Fservice%2Fvideowidget%2Fparams%2FdmlkZW9faWQ9MTMwMzMxMg%3D%3D%2F&amp;amp;initXML=http://www.nbc.com%2Fwho-do-you-think-you-are%2Fvideo/init.xml"/&gt; &lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#000000" /&gt; &lt;embed src="http://www.nbc.com/assets/video/5-0/swf/DirectWidget.swf?CXNID=1000004.10060NXC&amp;amp;widID=49d06ba1523528c3&amp;amp;configXML=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nbc.com%2Fservice%2Fvideowidget%2Fparams%2FdmlkZW9faWQ9MTMwMzMxMg%3D%3D%2F&amp;amp;initXML=http://www.nbc.com%2Fwho-do-you-think-you-are%2Fvideo/init.xml" quality="high" bgcolor="#000000" width="512" height="339" align="middle" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6339358259061864104?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6339358259061864104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6339358259061864104&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6339358259061864104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6339358259061864104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/04/who-do-you-think-you-are.html' title='Who do you think you are?'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6607524246860850514</id><published>2011-04-04T11:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T11:09:10.746-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How hard can it be??? Really hard... sometimes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Guess what?&amp;nbsp; Remember that new tile floor we installed about 2 months ago? Ya, we have to remove all the crumbling&amp;nbsp;grout and start over again. Fun, huh? (our fault... we got the wrong grout to begin with. Grrrr...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and remember that brand new dishwasher we had installed about... 2 months ago? Ya, I went to start it this morning and guess what? IT wouldn't start! More fun! (NOT our fault! Luckily, it's still covered under waranty. Luckily for Frigidaire, that is!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooooo.... and did I tell you that we have an electrical outlet in the kitchen that keeps shutting off, and when I flipped the circuit breaker it sizzled? (this does NOT make me happy. Nosiree.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya... I'm not loving my "new" kitchen right now. Nope. Not so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to lock myself in my closet, rock back and forth, and try to count all my blessings. Now where are those Hershey's kisses....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6607524246860850514?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6607524246860850514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6607524246860850514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6607524246860850514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6607524246860850514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-hard-can-it-be-really-hard.html' title='How hard can it be??? Really hard... sometimes.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-116061578804604638</id><published>2011-04-01T09:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T09:31:51.371-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No picnic in the park for me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Yesterday I was busy grouting my kitchen tile backsplash. You know how, when you look at yourself in the mirror for a really long time your face starts to look distorted and strange? (Oh come on, you know you did it when you were little!) Well, that's what happens when you are stuck in the house all week long doing home improvement projects- everything starts to look distorted and wrong!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I made myself leave the house yesterday and I took a sandwich to the park. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were cute little pregnant women strolling their little 2 year olds around the park. There were husbands and wives swinging their little toddlers over their shoulders, feeding the ducks, throwing rocks in the water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember doing that with my little guy way back when. (He's 10 now... it was a long time ago!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never imagined it would be so hard to get another one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up leaving the park in tears because I was so upset. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, something wonderful happened. My son came home and asked me to go on a bike ride with him. We pumped up his tires, fixed his helmet, adjusted the height of his seat, pumped up my tires, and we were off. It was a gorgeous day, and the cool breeze felt wonderful on my face. IT blew all my tears and frustrations away. I had a fantastic conversation with my little man, and was reminded of how blessed I am to have the son that I have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came home grateful rather than feeling sorry for myself. I wrote in my journal last night about my day so I could have it to look back on when I have another pity party for myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Heavenly Father for giving me the gift of my wonderful little buddy! And for the sunshine yesterday so we could enjoy eachother in it!!! (And for my new pink bike which I love and adore!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-116061578804604638?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/116061578804604638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=116061578804604638&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/116061578804604638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/116061578804604638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/04/no-picnic-in-park-for-me.html' title='No picnic in the park for me...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1881956704023436287</id><published>2011-03-28T09:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T09:49:00.756-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking forward...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Today I am trying to find something to look forward to this week. I am a very short-sighted person: I need to have something I am working toward. (Like a little kid with the promise of a candy bar after cleaning his room. Except there will be no candy bar involved since I"m on a diet. Well... after what I have to accomplish, there may just be chocolate involved after all. We'll see...)&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today, I am finishing the tile backsplash in my upstairs kitchen. We did half of it on Saturday, but I am determined to finish it today! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, I am painting the ceiling in the kitchen and installing the new cool brushed nickle track lighting.&amp;nbsp; I am putting in the backsplash in the basement kitchen as well. This WILL happen this week. It MUST!!! Then, I will be painting the kitchen in the basement as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, my hubby and I will be purchasing some shade trees for our front yard. We've been meaning to do it for 10 years now, it's about time! (And we happen to have my sister's truck here, so we'd better do it before it goes back to its home tomorrow. Nothing like an approaching deadline to whip this procrastinator into action.... usually.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, I will be going out to lunch with my hubby since lunchtime is about the only time we can ever have a "date" anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be looking forward to General Conference because it means I get to spend hours and hours of cuddle time with my family all piled on the bed together feeling uplifted and reminded of what a lucky family we are to be together forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it appears I have a lot to look forward to this week! Wish me luck! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1881956704023436287?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1881956704023436287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1881956704023436287&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1881956704023436287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1881956704023436287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/03/looking-forward.html' title='Looking forward...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2714139125875841975</id><published>2011-03-27T22:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T22:01:37.306-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Behind the "facade"...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I like knowing in advance when people are coming by. Even if it is just a few minutes notice. You see, you can shove a whole lot of stuff into closets in a few minutes, thus giving the illusion you keep a tidy house. Sometimes when I'm cleaning, my son asks who is coming over. Now, in my defense, I do clean- often. But for some reason he seems to equate cleaning with visitors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why bring this up? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I got thinking about the "facades" we put up for others to see in our lives. We put on a smile at church when we are really feeling like crying. We try to keep our voices even and a smile on our face&amp;nbsp;in public while asking our children to stop climbing the walls when we really want to yell at them that&amp;nbsp;their lives are about to be cut drastically short if they don't get down this minute. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think sometimes in my church we tend to try to appear as though we have fewer flaws than we really do. In talks we tend to use only the good examples of home or visiting teaching, tell the uplifting stories of when we were able to serve another, etc. However, I think we also tend to see only those ideal qualities in others as well. We often tend to compare our bad qualities to others' good qualities. The problem with doing this is that we can't see beyond the facade. We can't see the problems or trials the other person may have going on in their life. We have no way of knowing what difficulties this other person has had to face to get to a certain point in their life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Case in point, my stake relief society president. I think she is so composed, so well spoken, so successful. She is a nurse, very organized, composed- you name it. I admire her so much. Yet today, she told the relief society that she was a convert to the church. She has only been a member for a short time. I was shocked! She told of how she had to learn more modest ways to dress and to clean up her language after she joined the church. I never would have known how far she had come had she not told us this. I was amazed that she was just a normal person with normal problems just like the rest of us women sitting in there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really opened my eyes. It reminded me that every single one of us is unique. We can't judge, nor compare ourselves to others. It reminded me that every home has a facade, but it's what is inside that really matters. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2714139125875841975?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2714139125875841975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2714139125875841975&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2714139125875841975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2714139125875841975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/03/behind-facade.html' title='Behind the &quot;facade&quot;...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1106593035719164676</id><published>2011-03-21T10:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T10:03:01.395-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How to make a 71 year old lady very happy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;First of all, happy birthday to my sweet hubby (on Saturday)! Thanks for being born! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second of all, and more importantly, WE GOT CENTRAL AIR CONDITIONING UPSTAIRS!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know most of you are saying, big woop, right? Well, probably most of you live in homes constructed well after WWII, whereas we live in a home constructed DURING WWII- she's 71 years old now! You&amp;nbsp; know, back when women had two dresses: an everyday chore-doin' dress, and a church-goin' dress. They had no need for closets larger than 3 feet wide and 3 feet deep.&amp;nbsp; Back when kitchens either had no "ice box" or had a very small one. No dishwaswher (other than the chore-dress wearin' mom, of&amp;nbsp; course), and before they had ever even considered putting tile on a kitchen floor when you can have fabulous, no-wax linoleum!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, getting central air upstairs is a BIG DEAL around here! And with our new tile floors and dishwasher, you might as well call me the Queen of luxury living! (A queen, maybe, but one who still has to keep all her clothes in her son's closet since there is no room in her own for all her modern-day women clothes!&amp;nbsp; Luckily, men no longer wear hats to work. I just don't know where we'd put them all.&amp;nbsp; We don't own a hat rack, of course.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will have to wait until the weather heats up enough to even turn it on, but I go out every few hours and admire the beautiful shiny condenser unit. (My hubby is already planning on putting a locked privacy fence around it so no one gets any ideas. He is paranoid about new things. I'm surprised he didn't say "now, honey, don't get it dirty" after&amp;nbsp;I got my new dishwasher installed.) But it is thanks to him that we got the AC unit at all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, no more window units! I will actually be able to look out my windows in the summer! No more cardboard covering the open spaces where the window units don't fit. No more burning up at night and sweating like a&amp;nbsp;pig because I can't sleep with the AC unit on. No more ceiling fans! No more achy feet and... oh, well, ok. I know it isn't a miracle worker, but I certainly won't have to stand over the air-intake vent in the hallway waiting for the basement AC to turn on so I can feel the cool breeze blowing up my dress! (Sadly, I kind of enjoyed that Marilyn Monroe moment, but I think I can still get the desired effect by standing over the heater vent! It will probably be even better!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, happy birthday Sweetie! Thanks for the cool air! I can't wait to have to use it! I think&amp;nbsp;our 71 year old house is pretty excited too. She's shaking her aluminum siding off already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1106593035719164676?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1106593035719164676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1106593035719164676&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1106593035719164676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1106593035719164676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-to-make-71-year-old-lady-very-happy.html' title='How to make a 71 year old lady very happy.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-9057208665092201915</id><published>2011-03-17T11:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T11:03:00.852-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pangs of regret...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;My Grandpa, Thayer "Turk" Evans, was a pretty cool guy. (died&amp;nbsp;Feb. 14, 1999)&amp;nbsp;He was an amazing painter of birds and wildlife. He sang with the world famous Evans Quartet. He served as a sharpshooter in WWII in New Guinnea. He made the best wild duck stew in the world. His fingers looked like uncooked sausages. He had the best laugh, and was always so happy-go-lucky. He would bring us kids a solid chocolate bunny every Easter, without fail. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have some regrets, however. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was not a very "personal" kind of guy. He NEVER talked about himself to me. He never told me stories about the war, or what it was like singing all over the world in his quartet. He never shared his recipe for duck stew (not that it would help me now, I don't know how to go duck hunting, anyway!). He didn't teach me how to paint, or bird-spot. He did, however, teach&amp;nbsp; me that his idea of going to church was watching Boston Pops on Sunday afternoons, that Hee-Haw was darn good entertainment, and that no matter how much you love your T.J. Hooker television show, your little granddaughter will always be able to sweet-talk you into letting her change the channel to watch "Love Boat". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, for some odd reason, I have been thinking about him a lot. I realized that I do not have one single print of any of his art. Nothing! I don't have an original painting of his. My son has no idea what kind of talent his great-grandpa had. He didn't stand next to him as he painted a beautiful bird effortlessly, as I did. He didnt' see his art hanging all around the house and take it for granted like I did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard a story once of my grandpa in&amp;nbsp;WWII. He jumped off a cliff into the rolling sea below in New Guinnea&amp;nbsp;to divert the Japanese. He apparently messed up his knees pretty bad doing this. That's all I know. Nothing more. I have searched and searched the internet looking for any more information about this, but can't find anything. I wish my grandpa had told me more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I found someone on the internet who knew my grandpa. Who apparently spent lots of time with him, and learned all about birding from him. He said he has an original painting of a Peregrine falcon painted by him packed away "somewhere in his garage". I tried to email him to see if I can purchase this painting. It may not mean much to him... then again, maybe it does. I dont' know, but it sure would mean a lot to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I have a lot to catch up on with my grandpa when I see him again in the hereafter.&amp;nbsp; I sure hope there's duck hunting in Heaven, though.&amp;nbsp; I'd give anything to taste grandpa's duck stew again! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-9057208665092201915?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/9057208665092201915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=9057208665092201915&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9057208665092201915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9057208665092201915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/03/pangs-of-regret.html' title='Pangs of regret...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1921902718770910677</id><published>2011-03-14T09:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T09:26:57.716-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I couldn't stop laughing!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Sunday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We woke up at our usual "late" time of 8:00, rushing to get ready for church. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I don't know where your socks are....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I'll iron your shirt...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, you are NOT bringing your Gameboy to church!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you want breakfast on Sunday mornings, you're going to have to fix it yourself...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know... the usual lilting strains of love floating through our home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we managed to get everyone out the door at 9:00... which is "on time" for us.&amp;nbsp; Oh, except that just as I was about to leave, I realized I had forgotten to put on my mascara and quickly ran in to do that. Of course, I totally stabbed my eye with the mascara wand- like, really badly. I ran into the bathroom and rinsed out my eye, pouring eyedrops into it to stop the burning. Man, it hurt! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I realized I was going to live and keep my eye, I ran out to the car and headed off to church. We walked in quickly, grabbed a program, heard the opening hymn still being sung and rushed into the chapel to be seated before the song ended and the prayer began. We sat down just as the song ended. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whew!" I though. "Just in time! Thank Heaven!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The prayer was said and I thanked Heavenly Father for helping us to get there in time for the Sacrament, and for the beautifully sunshiney day.&amp;nbsp;( And to please make my eye stop hurting!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, as soon as the prayer was finished, people started getting up! What? Why is everyone getting up? Is church shortened today? Is there a baby blessing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glanced up at the clock. 10:00!!!! What? We weren't that late.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then it hit me.&amp;nbsp; Daylight Savings time!!!!! I had absolutely NO idea we were supposed to change our clocks forward! That is the first time in my whole life I have not known it was daylight savings time! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People came up to us and were laughing so hard. We were laughing too. It was pretty dang funny!!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It kept me laughing all day long, actually.&amp;nbsp; Thank Heaven for a good sense of humor. I'm glad we could provide the comic relief for the ward yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're all welcome! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1921902718770910677?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1921902718770910677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1921902718770910677&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1921902718770910677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1921902718770910677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-couldnt-stop-laughing.html' title='I couldn&apos;t stop laughing!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4972978913688488486</id><published>2011-03-12T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T13:34:02.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>At first it was really ok... then it got worse... then really bad... then I was like... ok... then freeeeeeaaaakkkkk ooouuuuutttttt..... then aaahhhhhhhhhhh.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Those were all the emotions I experienced while planning the Relief Society birthday dinner last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;I have planned I don't know how many large ward parties in my time, but it's a lot. I really don't stress about making dinner for 50-100 people. In fact, I find it rather rewarding on the whole.&amp;nbsp; However, what I do tend to stress about is the presentation of&amp;nbsp;the whole affair. The decorations, the program, the entertainment. My&amp;nbsp;entertainment fell through, and me singing was NOT an&amp;nbsp;option! (not when I'm in charge of the activity, AND planning a Relief Society lesson the following Sunday. No Sirreee, Bob!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I managed to make all the food by myself this time, (rather than have some people bring some things,)&amp;nbsp;and with relatively little stress.&amp;nbsp;I only began to stress when two batches of rolls baked in the oven while they were supposed to be rising, and I&amp;nbsp;had to scrap them. Grrrrr.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son was the hero of the day, though. He helped me carry everything&amp;nbsp; to&amp;nbsp;the car (and believe me, there was a LOT to carry!), carried it into the building, helped me set&amp;nbsp;the tables and set out food! He&amp;nbsp;rocks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the best part of the evening was the revelation that I, in fact, was NOT supposed to give the Relief Society lesson this&amp;nbsp;Sunday after all! And good thing I started discussing it with the other teacher or this bit of vital information would&amp;nbsp;not have come out and we would have had a very awkward situation come Sunday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, party was a success, people seemed to enjoy themselves, I had lots of help cleaning up, and got to spend today relaxing (and watching conspiracy theory shows- who knows why?)- and NOT planning a lesson! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4972978913688488486?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4972978913688488486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4972978913688488486&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4972978913688488486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4972978913688488486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/03/at-first-it-was-really-ok-then-it-got.html' title='At first it was really ok... then it got worse... then really bad... then I was like... ok... then freeeeeeaaaakkkkk ooouuuuutttttt..... then aaahhhhhhhhhhh.....'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4521507023825665011</id><published>2011-02-28T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T10:09:02.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>De-Junking...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;My son loves his trinkets! Let me tell you! Every little piece of string and tiny eraser from a happy meal he will save. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It drives me crazy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am NOT a saver! Except for fabric and cook books... those things I hoard like the apocolypse is tomorrow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have been in his room all morning throwing out all the little trinkets and do-dads and thinga-ma-jigs that he has surely forgotten were there. (I found Valentine candy from 2 years ago, people! See what I mean?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my hubby asks me to get out a shirt from the closet and iron it for him. He said he has nothing to wear. He starts pointing to shirts and saying "too old, too grungy...". I promptly pull out the shirts and toss them on the bed in a pile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing?!" he asks in an alarmed way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm putting them in the DI bag. You won't wear them anymore."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gets this panicked look on his face.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Looks like there are 2 "savers" in this house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No worries, I will just throw them out while he's at work. He'll never know!&amp;nbsp; heh heh heh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on a roll!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4521507023825665011?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4521507023825665011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4521507023825665011&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4521507023825665011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4521507023825665011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/de-junking.html' title='De-Junking...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-183431147153671635</id><published>2011-02-25T09:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T09:53:17.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Torture of Gigantic Proportions....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby... needs to bring breakfast to work this morning for all his co-workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me...Sure, no problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby... "Everyone's looking forward to breakfast tomorrow."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me... makes giant crock pot of homemade sausage gravy and buttermilk biscuits before bed last night. (*note: biscuits were NOT homemade, I can't make a decent fluffy biscuit to save my life. I've accepted this, thus the frozen Pilsbury biscuits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby... "don't forget the homemade sweet rolls. Everyone loved those last time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me.... over-achiever baker extraordinaire. I whip up a double batch of sweet roll dough before bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me... wake up early to let rolls raise and make frosting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby.... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (hee hee.... just kidding. He got up and worked out!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me.... taking hot, steaming rolls out of oven. Smothering them in fluffy cream cheese frosting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me.... on a calorie/ fat restrictive diet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me.... mouth watering, tummy growling. A cold snowy day screams for homemade warm deliciousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me... feeding hubby and son the best looking sweet rolls in the whole world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me.... being strong and not eating a single bite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Torture, torture, torture.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; There will be other sweet rolls and other cold snowy days with deliciousness I can eat.&amp;nbsp; *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Anyway, for those of you with mouths watering like mine, hop on over to my recipe blog&lt;a href="http://saucyfrocksrecipes.blogspot.com/2011/02/homemade-cinnamon-rolls.html"&gt; HERE&lt;/a&gt; and make some for yourself! They really are fantastic.... I think.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-183431147153671635?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/183431147153671635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=183431147153671635&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/183431147153671635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/183431147153671635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/torture-of-gigantic-proportions.html' title='Torture of Gigantic Proportions....'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4031203805992688220</id><published>2011-02-22T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T17:48:24.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random day off...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;How did my son and I spend today? He had a random day off of school (for some teacher prep something or other. Whow knows?) so we enjoyed time together. What did we do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made&amp;nbsp;a towering pagoda out of dominos. He kept saying "Good Job, mom. You're really good at this."&amp;nbsp; Nothing like your little son telling you good things about yourself to lift your self esteem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went and picked up tile at Home Depot for our basement. I nearly dropped it on my foot, and almost pulled a muscle in my back lifting it out of the cart. I almost wish I had, then my hubby would feel sorry for me and put the heating pad on my back, and feel guilty for not having been there himself. hee hee. My son told me I was pretty strong.... for a mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the toy store where my son picked out a special birthday present for himself with money his Grandma and Grandpa sent him. Yep. He got another Webkinz. That kid and his little stuffed animals. He has such a soft spot for them. He told me once he knows he'll be a good dad because he takes such good care of his animals. It's true. While I gave my Barbies mohawks and melted their feet over the gas stove, he makes little beds for all his Webkinz. He knits little caps for each of them, and has made a towering Webkinz condominium! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went out on a lunch date. That kid can put away a whole Training Table burger! And fries! And a drink! I don't know where he keeps it all, but he can eat me under the table now. Which means I will be buying him new pants soon. He seems to grow an inch every month! I'm not ready for a 10 year old! (Next week, by the way.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went Sunday shoe shopping, but didn't find anything. For some reason he doesn't love shoe shopping as much as his mommy. I just don't get it. Shoe shopping is my passion! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a bad random day off if you ask me! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4031203805992688220?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4031203805992688220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4031203805992688220&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4031203805992688220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4031203805992688220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/random-day-off.html' title='Random day off...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3961129564682953613</id><published>2011-02-16T10:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T10:48:13.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well... this is just the perfect thing for a mid-week laugh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/i7YIAWsyB1I" title="YouTube video player" width="640"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3961129564682953613?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3961129564682953613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3961129564682953613&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3961129564682953613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3961129564682953613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/well-this-is-just-perfect-thing-for-mid.html' title='Well... this is just the perfect thing for a mid-week laugh!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/i7YIAWsyB1I/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6592150930453478725</id><published>2011-02-14T16:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T16:33:55.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Valentine's Day Rant.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;To all you who say "Valentine's Day is Stupid"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all you who say "We shouldn't&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; have&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; to show our love to our significant others today&amp;nbsp;just because someone &amp;nbsp;decided to make it an official day...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all you husbands who resent the fact that greeting card companies and chocolate makers and florists make a killing off this day because of all those dumb "schmucks" out there who feel they have to follow in the endless line of mindless sheep being lead to their slaughter with red hearts and boxes of chocolate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say, WHY NOT??? Why not just give in and enjoy the love all around you? Why not just buy that woman a little token of love, or make her a cute little hand-made card? You do love her, right? So is it so bad to show it on a day when everyone else is showing it as well... just because????&amp;nbsp; Why not just throw your arms open and embrace Valentines Day???!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband did today, and you know what? He survived! And I think he actually may have enjoyed eating lunch with me in the park. So, see? It's not that bad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It could be fun! (And you might get lucky!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6592150930453478725?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6592150930453478725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6592150930453478725&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6592150930453478725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6592150930453478725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-valentines-day-rant.html' title='My Valentine&apos;s Day Rant.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6714154950275617691</id><published>2011-02-14T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T11:43:27.089-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ah... the traditional Valentine's Day.... Robot?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;My son had been bugging me all weekend to help him make a Valentine box to put all his school Valentines in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We brainstormed... and thought.... and pondered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally came up with this last night:&amp;nbsp; "Robo Rampage"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-36k2x5dsl-8/TVl3MiDHdmI/AAAAAAAAA3I/NSUBTtpITbw/s1600/Valentine%2527s+Day+2011+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-36k2x5dsl-8/TVl3MiDHdmI/AAAAAAAAA3I/NSUBTtpITbw/s320/Valentine%2527s+Day+2011+001.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The head opens to "feed" the robot his valentines:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AI4EJPuznUo/TVl3PPvg43I/AAAAAAAAA3M/QPqM1FWlMIE/s1600/Valentine%2527s+Day+2011+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AI4EJPuznUo/TVl3PPvg43I/AAAAAAAAA3M/QPqM1FWlMIE/s320/Valentine%2527s+Day+2011+004.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The belly opens to retrieve the valentines. It is held closed by magnets!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BgshEogaoIw/TVl3KCyiuUI/AAAAAAAAA3E/Su7O1Ccu7hM/s1600/Valentine%2527s+Day+2011+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BgshEogaoIw/TVl3KCyiuUI/AAAAAAAAA3E/Su7O1Ccu7hM/s320/Valentine%2527s+Day+2011+002.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son, however, refused to let me put a cute metal heart on his chest. Boys. *Sheesh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't he cute, though? And the robot is, too! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6714154950275617691?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6714154950275617691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6714154950275617691&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6714154950275617691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6714154950275617691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/ah-traditional-valentines-day-robot.html' title='Ah... the traditional Valentine&apos;s Day.... Robot?'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-36k2x5dsl-8/TVl3MiDHdmI/AAAAAAAAA3I/NSUBTtpITbw/s72-c/Valentine%2527s+Day+2011+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-9035010121235571882</id><published>2011-02-11T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T10:02:55.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So I'm really a 6 year old.... so sue me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img height="256" id="il_fi" src="http://toonbarn.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/Peanuts-Snoopy-Valentines-Day-special.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited all day long yesterday to talk to my son's teacher about something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was parent/teacher conferences. No, I wasn't going to talk to him about how much I strongly disagree with timed math tests. No, I wasn't going to mention that he really needs to send notes home to the parents letting them know when a field trip is coming up rather than expect 9 year olds to be responsible enough to tell their parents about said field trip before the DAY OF! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, what was so important to discuss with him, you ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valentines Day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat at his desk with anxious anticipation. Yes...yes... great on reading.... doing better in math....blah blah blah... ok, I get it, I have a good kid..... blah... blah....&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let's get to the meat of this conference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So..." (I sat on the edge of my seat, licking my lips with nervous energy.) "Are you having a Valentine's party on Monday, and does my kid need to make some kind of valentine box, and can he bring treats?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Of course, I knew the answer would be yes to&amp;nbsp;all 3 questions. It's Valentines Day, for heaven's sake. What teacher doesn't do that kind of thing in their class....... I didn't take into account &lt;em&gt;male&lt;/em&gt; teachers.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well... you know...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Uh oh... I hadn't expected this. I know what???? What do I know??? That Valentine's day is the perfect holiday with love and hearts and candy and fun ingeniously decorated valentine card boxes and holders? What?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Coming from a Jr.High background..." (Oh no... Jr. High? Nothing good can come from JR. High!)&amp;nbsp; "I feel that 4th graders are really expected to step it up in their school work and accountability. I guess I just figured we'd skip the whole &lt;em&gt;kiddy&lt;/em&gt; valentine party this year."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(What? What's that he's mumbling? Something about valentine's and skipping? Am I hearing right?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*blink* *blink*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But.... I guess the kids are really kind of expecting it, so we'll do a read-a-thon most of the day..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*blink* *blink*&lt;br /&gt;"...&amp;nbsp;and a small party the last half hour of class. They can pass around their &lt;em&gt;little&lt;/em&gt; cards and treats then, I guess."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*blink* *blink*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, yes... your son can make a valentine's box and bring valentines and treats&amp;nbsp;for everyone on Monday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(sigh of relief!) "Great! I'll make sure he does that!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Translation: I'll make sure he's at least somewhere in the house when I assemble every red and white thing I can find and create the most spectacular valentine's box in the history of the world for me to put all my valentines... I mean, HIM, to put all of his valentines in.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, come on! What teacher doesn't let their kids do Valentines?????? That's just obsurd!~ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(That teacher doesn't know how narrowly he avoided having the principal called in to intervene! Lucky for him I knew he was really joking, even if he didn't.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes... I am truly a child at heart. And in many other respects. More outwardly than at heart, actually. Especially when it comes to Valentine's Day!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-9035010121235571882?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/9035010121235571882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=9035010121235571882&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9035010121235571882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9035010121235571882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/so-im-really-6-year-old-so-sue-me.html' title='So I&apos;m really a 6 year old.... so sue me!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2433112117003436107</id><published>2011-02-09T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T10:20:49.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>keep the change...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Dear Car Change Thief (Heretofore known as CT),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not begrudge you my change. In fact, if you had come to my door and said "I am going to steal the change out of your car, but I'm giving you the chance to just give it to me if you'd rather" I would probably have given it to you.&amp;nbsp;I do, however, disapprove your chosen method of getting it. Although, I do appreciate you leaving my cd's this time. You probably learned from the last pillaging that my cd's are not your usual "popular" music. I imagine most petty thiefs don't usually listen to opera divas, obscure musicals, and bluegrass , but that's just a guess. So, thank you for leaving the cd's.&amp;nbsp; Next time, however, would you mind gently removing them instead of tossing them all over the car? My "Wicked" cd got a nasty scratch on it, which I sincerely hope is not on "Defying Gravity" because that will make me even more resentful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand your need to support your drug habit, although I do think rummaging through people's cars at night collecting spare change seems a bit counter-productive. Wouldn't a part-time job pay more per hour? Oh, but you must have been after my collection of Conference Center parking tokens. That must be it. Well, I hope you use them. And then feel the need to repent and &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BRING BACK MY CHANGE HOLDER!!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? You had to actually remove the change holder and take it with you???? It wasn't valuable. In fact, the book that was sitting on the floor of the back seat, in the sack, with the receipt still in it&amp;nbsp;was worth at least $10.65. You could have just taken that and returned it for cash! But, no... you had to have that black plastic change holder. Well, to each his own, I guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You do realize, however, that there most likely will not be a next time. See, I had actually learned my lesson from your last visit. I now lock my car doors every night! (My dear. sweet hubby, however, does not.) He is very sorry my change holder is gone, too. In fact, so sorry that he has been researching various ways to ensnare you. Just a warning: they seem a bit... uncomfortable... (Ok, I'll admit, he hasn't been doing anything of the sort. I have, however! I've lost my patience with you!!!!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to put up some lost posters today with a picture of my change holder. Surely someone will have seen it about. May your filthy conscience feel a tinge of regret and dig at your heart mercilessly until you return my change holder to me. That's all I want. My change holder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can keep the change.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2433112117003436107?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2433112117003436107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2433112117003436107&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2433112117003436107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2433112117003436107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/keep-change.html' title='keep the change...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-5678935062618271641</id><published>2011-02-04T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T09:03:20.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's in the signs...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;This is the 3rd and last post for today. I promise! (there are two others before this one.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had to post the picture of shame.&amp;nbsp; A few days ago I put a large brown cabinet outside that had been in our kitchen the past few years. It is a piece of ____, and I had no desire to keep it.&amp;nbsp; So, there is no better way to get rid of junk around here than to put it out on your front lawn with a sign that says "Free". (Well, actually, the best way would be to just put it out there, not intending for it to be taken at all, in which case it would surely be snatched up!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, in the interest of speed, I wanted to make sure everyone in the area knew it was free. Take it. Now! So, I put under the "Free" sign, a spanish word. I googled it. Google is always right, isn't it? I typed "Free, in spanish" into the Google search bar. It gave me this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwio4jlQiI/AAAAAAAAA28/kO7YU8gzbp8/s1600/February+2011+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwio4jlQiI/AAAAAAAAA28/kO7YU8gzbp8/s320/February+2011+010.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I was later informed that "Gratis" would have been more appropriate. I, however, am of the belief that "Libre" expressed more aptly exactly how I felt at finally getting rid of this beast, and finally FINALLY starting my kitchen remodel! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am liberated!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-5678935062618271641?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/5678935062618271641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=5678935062618271641&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5678935062618271641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/5678935062618271641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/its-in-signs.html' title='It&apos;s in the signs...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwio4jlQiI/AAAAAAAAA28/kO7YU8gzbp8/s72-c/February+2011+010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3872009037947607281</id><published>2011-02-04T08:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T09:36:37.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bountiful Baskets are Bountiful!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Wow, two posts in one day! This is unusual! (Oh, you must read the kitchen remodel update below if you haven't yet!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, a few weeks ago I purchased my first &lt;a href="http://www.bountifulbaskets.org/"&gt;Bountiful Basket&lt;/a&gt; from the food co-op group. Let me just say, it is both Bountiful, and Basket-y! (Well, it all comes in a laundry basket, if you can count that as a basket, but it was certainly bountiful!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'd take a picture of what we got. This was what was in the regular basket ($15- assorted fruits and vegetables.) Look at all those lemons!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwgWHLo1uI/AAAAAAAAA20/LPaiK6nFBZg/s1600/February+2011+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwgWHLo1uI/AAAAAAAAA20/LPaiK6nFBZg/s320/February+2011+008.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And this is everything thing we purchased, including the add-on italian mix with lots of fresh herbs!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwgg8KLbsI/AAAAAAAAA24/4dPo6hRv1CI/s1600/February+2011+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwgg8KLbsI/AAAAAAAAA24/4dPo6hRv1CI/s320/February+2011+009.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We paid $24 for all of this. And for kicks, my hubby and I went to the grocery store and priced every single thing to see if we had saved anything. Guess how much we would have spent at the grocery store for all of this? $67!!!! That's right! We saved a whopping $43, and the quality was unbeatable! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will definitely be doing this again, and again! &lt;br /&gt;(You can sign up &lt;a href="http://www.bountifulbaskets.org/"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt; to join. You don't have to volunteer to help sort if you don't want, and you truly get an amazing assortment! They also offer delicious breads and granola as well!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3872009037947607281?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3872009037947607281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3872009037947607281&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3872009037947607281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3872009037947607281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/bountiful-baskets-are-bountiful.html' title='Bountiful Baskets are Bountiful!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwgWHLo1uI/AAAAAAAAA20/LPaiK6nFBZg/s72-c/February+2011+008.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7916161381948887795</id><published>2011-02-04T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T08:46:29.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't come over! Whatever you do!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;To anyone thinking of coming over to visit. This is what you would find when I open my front door:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwerwR2jzI/AAAAAAAAA2k/Vh1ePpx9S4Q/s1600/February+2011+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwerwR2jzI/AAAAAAAAA2k/Vh1ePpx9S4Q/s320/February+2011+011.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, we haven't converted our livingroom to an all-in-one studio apartment. Nor have we created the ultimate everything-at-your-fingertips man-cave for my hubby (much as he would like!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, our home is a total construction zone right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you venture into the kitchen, you will see this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwe0aVvTiI/AAAAAAAAA2o/BYHuTg6OzCc/s1600/February+2011+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwe0aVvTiI/AAAAAAAAA2o/BYHuTg6OzCc/s320/February+2011+012.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(Most of the time this week I have had to go out the front door, around to the back of the house, and in through the back door to go downstairs. So, I've been doing this every morning- in the freezing cold temperatures, mind you- to make breakfast!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Notice the brand new countertop! (See it peeking out... just there?) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwe7fzJ8uI/AAAAAAAAA2s/nWy8l3DiMk0/s1600/February+2011+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwe7fzJ8uI/AAAAAAAAA2s/nWy8l3DiMk0/s320/February+2011+013.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And the beautiful new tile floors? (yes, it needs grout. Thus, again, I will be forbidden to walk through my kitchen to get to the basement. *sigh*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwfETAfSiI/AAAAAAAAA2w/joq5Xf05C70/s1600/February+2011+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwfETAfSiI/AAAAAAAAA2w/joq5Xf05C70/s320/February+2011+014.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT... and this is a big but.... my kitchen is FINALLY almost finished!!!! We still need to move some cabinets over to the other wall, install the dishwasher (sitting in a gigantic brown box in the livingroom), paint, and put in the backsplash tile, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then, however, we will continue to trudge outside to get to the kitchen downstairs (at least I've had a kitchen to use through all of this!), and will develop further "black" lung as we inhale all the dust and white film that seems to have settled on* every *single *surface* of this house!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Therefore, you'll excuse me if I act like I'm hiding something when I only open my front door a crack when you come knocking. You understand. One has to hide the large appliances that have taken over the living space! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7916161381948887795?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7916161381948887795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7916161381948887795&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7916161381948887795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7916161381948887795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/02/dont-come-over-whatever-you-do.html' title='Don&apos;t come over! Whatever you do!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TUwerwR2jzI/AAAAAAAAA2k/Vh1ePpx9S4Q/s72-c/February+2011+011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1594200054413889891</id><published>2011-01-30T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T21:08:00.532-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inside I'm a compulsive horse-race gambler...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I had an epiphany last night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was in the middle of watching "Secretariat" with extended family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat on the edge of my seat, heart racing, sweat beading up on the palms of my hands, fingers digging into the upholstery of the couch, I had a mind-boggling, life-altering revelation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In another reality, one where I&amp;nbsp;am the wife of a rich entrepreneur living in a large antebellum mansion back east, sipping sweet tea on the veranda with the ladies bridge club in the afternoons, watching the maid clean my marble floors...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would most definitely, and without a doubt, be a woman who dons large floppy hats and&amp;nbsp;bets on horse races. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I watched "The Black Stallion" as a young girl, I have gotten so wrapped up in the horse race scenes of movies. I don't know what it is, but I think it has something to do with the fact that horses are big, terrifying, and have a mind and will of their own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I reassured my husband after I revealed this bit of new information about myself, that I could never- in this life- be a horse race better. He just laughed. Oh, what a funny girl I married, he thought to himself as he pat my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. What a funny girl you married. He has no&amp;nbsp;idea how close he could've come to having to drag his wife from the derby races by the heels of her designer shoes.&amp;nbsp; But, now he has only to laugh at me as I make a fool of myself cheering for a horse on a Disney movie that everyone else in the room knows will win the race, but me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1594200054413889891?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1594200054413889891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1594200054413889891&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1594200054413889891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1594200054413889891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/inside-im-compulsive-horse-race-gambler.html' title='Inside I&apos;m a compulsive horse-race gambler...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8875112721277539365</id><published>2011-01-27T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T10:29:37.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ha. Ha. Kids say the funniest things... ha. ha. ( said sarcastically, of course!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Sometimes I wonder where my kid came from. I am becoming incresingly certain that I do NOT deserve my child. He wakes up early on Saturday mornings and cleans his room without being asked. He does his laundry (usually) without being asked. He loves family scripture study, and is usually the one to instigate it.&amp;nbsp;Last night, promptly at 8:00, he turned off the t.v., came upstairs, and got ready for bed because he knew it was bed time. Did I ask him? No. Did I have to holler several times to make him do it? No. I sat like a slug on my bed, reading my book, and he just did it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him, how did I get such a good boy as you are? His response:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you believe in God, and you are a good woman. Second, you met daddy, got married, made love, and made me, and thirdly, you're a great mom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now.... what was that second thing you mentioned? Ya. I laughed so hard! But, it was true. I guess that's what you get for having "frank" talks with your kid about where babies come from! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8875112721277539365?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8875112721277539365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8875112721277539365&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8875112721277539365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8875112721277539365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/ha-ha-kids-say-funniest-things-ha-ha.html' title='Ha. Ha. Kids say the funniest things... ha. ha. ( said sarcastically, of course!)'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6820340393363170054</id><published>2011-01-24T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T09:18:57.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No girls night out for me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Dang it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been under so much stress lately my head is a ball of mush! The ONE thing I've been in desperate need of is a good Girls Night Out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been looking forward to Girls Night Out for weeks now. Dreaming of time with the chicks, no boys allowed. Girl talk, laughing, connecting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night came. What was I doing? I was fixing dinner, waiting for my hubby to come home... late. Then, after dinner we settled in to watch some stupid netflix movie in bed. At about 8:30 I suddenly gasp. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot Girls Night Out!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it. I am so depressed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6820340393363170054?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6820340393363170054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6820340393363170054&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6820340393363170054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6820340393363170054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/no-girls-night-out-for-me.html' title='No girls night out for me...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8274002824966373761</id><published>2011-01-19T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T20:03:03.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not all cookies are created equal...</title><content type='html'>I had a goal today to make a delicious batch of yummy, gooey, oatmeal raisin cookies for my guys tonight.&amp;nbsp; You know, I was going to be the ultimate housewife. I had made them delicious homemade tostadas with oven baked tostada shells, yummy taco meat, and topped with shredded lettuce, sour cream, cheese, and homemade salsa. Mmmmmmmmm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't find my usual go-to oatmeal cookie recipe, however. (which happens to be the Quaker Oats recipe, by the way. Never fails!) I dug through my old recipe card box and found a recipe I was given when I got married. "Well... oatmeal cookies are oatmeal cookies, how different can they be?" I asked as I donned my halloween apron (the closest and cleanest one at hand) and began assembling ingredients. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's just say not all oatmeal cookies are created equal, and these were awful! Doughy, bland, heavy... sounds appetizing, huh? I added some oil thinking it would make them richer and more moist. Nope.&amp;nbsp;Then I added some water to make them less thick and puffy. Nope.&amp;nbsp;Then, after seeing they had spread all over the sheet and were dripping down onto the bottom of the oven I hurried and whisked them out of the oven, scraped them into the garbage, and added more flour to the dough. Tried again. These were a little better, but still cake-like and bland. Finally, I made frosting and slathered them all over with it. They were pallatable, but that's about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So? I ran up to the computer and downloaded a new copy of my go-to recipe and will try again tomorrow. So much for the perfect housewife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? Not everything I make turns out perfect. I just don't let anyone try the failed attempts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8274002824966373761?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8274002824966373761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8274002824966373761&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8274002824966373761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8274002824966373761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/not-all-cookies-are-created-equal.html' title='Not all cookies are created equal...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7871293986688094167</id><published>2011-01-18T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T09:47:01.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bountiful new things full of bounty...</title><content type='html'>First of all, I have a new goal to work out every morning EARLY with my hubby. It will help him to get up earlier, and me to be less flabby! It's a win-win situation, right?&amp;nbsp; Today was our second morning doing it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second of all, I just placed my first order&amp;nbsp;with the food co-op group around here called Bountiful Baskets. I&amp;nbsp; signed up with them several months ago and have received many emails but never dared do it. I don't know why I needed to be brave to do it, it's just produce, right? But for some reason I was nervous to do it. But I took the leap today and ordered my first Bountiful Basket! I get to pick it up on Saturday, and I am excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(You can go &lt;a href="http://www.bountifulbaskets.org/"&gt;HERE &lt;/a&gt;to see their web site if this sounds interesting to you.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? Baby steps to a new improved me. Oh, and I'm even making Mondays my official laundry days (even though today is Tuesday, it feels like a Monday since yesterday was a holiday.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even going to recognize myself with all these changes! Oh, and did I mention that I fit into my new smaller size jeans today???? That's gotta feel great, huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7871293986688094167?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7871293986688094167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7871293986688094167&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7871293986688094167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7871293986688094167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/bountiful-new-things-full-of-bounty.html' title='Bountiful new things full of bounty...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4357867447498218469</id><published>2011-01-17T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T20:14:33.548-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A great Human Rights Day!!!</title><content type='html'>Today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up early...(not by choice, but we didn't really complain.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family "Work-Out" in the family room. Hubby on treadmill, me and the kid doing a 2 mile walk video. He had me laughing so hard at his moves... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bought some great tile for our upstairs kitchen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Killer burger and fries at Training Table. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to the outlet mall and got a bundle of awesome deals!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fit in a size smaller jeans now!!!! (Which I got for $7 mind you!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Movie night at home with popcorn and candy. (Won't fit into the new smaller jeans in the morning after the burger, fries and popcorn, though.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, a great day with my little family!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4357867447498218469?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4357867447498218469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4357867447498218469&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4357867447498218469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4357867447498218469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/great-human-rights-day.html' title='A great Human Rights Day!!!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2267679171058906294</id><published>2011-01-12T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T10:32:07.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye world.... or maybe not... my  mind can't wrap itself around this...</title><content type='html'>I think... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now I can't be sure...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;but all signs point...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to the idea that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the world might be ending!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spoke with a Comcast customer "service" representative this morning to see what they can do about getting my outrageous cable/internet/phone bill back down to "normal", and guess what????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They put me immediately on with a supervisor (without me having to threaten or curse or fake cry or anything, mind you!) and were able to... now get this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WORK WITH ME!!!!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole phone call lasted only about 20 minutes (verses the usual hour and a half in most cases) and...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here's the clincher...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not only did they work with me, but they LOWERED my bill, while keeping the same services!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just going to sit here and wait for the earth to explode because it can't possibly keep turning with this ground-shattering occurrence!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a&lt;span style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; RED LETTER DAY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in our household, I can tell you!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2267679171058906294?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2267679171058906294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2267679171058906294&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2267679171058906294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2267679171058906294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/goodbye-world-or-maybe-not-my-mind-cant.html' title='Goodbye world.... or maybe not... my  mind can&apos;t wrap itself around this...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-8006321469655334097</id><published>2011-01-10T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T09:36:28.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of my hands...</title><content type='html'>One of my goals this year (which I haven't really posted any here because of all the stress of goal-setting and stuff I mentioned before-) is to stop trying to run my own life and let God be in charge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is soooo easier said than done. But the fact is I have very little control over much in my life. I can't control if I wake up each morning. I can't control what other cars are doing on the streets around me as I drive, what my husband's boss will decide to do with his job on any given day, what callings I get in church, how many children I do or don't have,&amp;nbsp;or who likes or doesn't like me at the moment. I have absolutely NO control over any of this.&amp;nbsp; So there is no point in worrying over it, or stressing. Period. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am practicing letting One with greater knowledge do what He does best, and just doing what I can do down here from day to day. I can do laundry, dishes, dusting, shopping, trying to keep to a budget, supporting my family, and serving where I am needed. That is all. Everything else is out of my hands. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why is it so hard to do????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-8006321469655334097?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/8006321469655334097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=8006321469655334097&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8006321469655334097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/8006321469655334097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/out-of-my-hands.html' title='Out of my hands...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3142990111442996459</id><published>2011-01-05T20:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T09:42:31.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The venting of a sub-suburban housewife...</title><content type='html'>I just tucked my kid into bed almost an hour past his bedtime. He spent the entire afternoon and evening doing (or not doing) homework. No, I didn't hover over him to make sure it got done either. I was coupon-clipping like every good housewife should do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also made 2 dinners tonight. The first dinner I was so proud of myself for making because I was frugal and used left-over pot roast to make stew and dumplings. Then proceeded to spill a large amount of Thyme into the pot, thus ruining our frugal dinner. (Too much thyme makes anything taste like a big hunk of mold! Gross!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dinner number 2 was a frozen pizza. It was a low point in my career as a housewife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I did all this with an apron on? Well, that's me. I live in aprons. I have about 15.&amp;nbsp; The odd thing is, I still manage to spill things down the inside of my apron, thus defeating the whole purpose of wearing the apron. However, the apron does hide the spillage, so I guess I'm still the picture of what a housewife ought to be... it's all in appearances anyway, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, for my "unwind" time I am watching television where supposed "everyday" housewives live out their supposedly "normal" lives dealing with family problems while wearing abnormally high heels, tight designer size -&amp;nbsp;0 pants, obviously dry-clean only blouses, (no apron , mind you- "real" housewives apparently don't spill on themselves like I do...)&amp;nbsp;and sporting freshly botoxed upper lips. Ya. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That's&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; real.&amp;nbsp; No worries, I can just walk around with my tongue behind my upper lip in front of my teeth and I look just like them.&amp;nbsp;Yep. &lt;br /&gt;Well... almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I am still in my now-soiled apron? Yep. That's me, lounging around on the bed in my dirty apron--- the picture of the sub-suburban (sub, because I don't really live in the suburbs... more the outskirts of the inner city) housewife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3142990111442996459?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3142990111442996459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3142990111442996459&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3142990111442996459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3142990111442996459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/venting-of-sub-suburban-housewife.html' title='The venting of a sub-suburban housewife...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2929657070505743851</id><published>2011-01-04T09:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T09:52:41.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolving the "Plan"</title><content type='html'>Goals are hard for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like feeling like I have to do something, not doing it, and then feeling like I failed when it was all my own idea in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, no.. I don't usually make resolutions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I feel it is important to strive to be a better person. And to do that, you need to make goals- have a direction. People need hurdles to overcome, mountains to climb. They need to stretch their minds and bodies, to be constantly bettering themselves. It is what makes us happy in the long run. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am thinking about stretching myself and what that entails. The long and short of it means making goals.&amp;nbsp; But since I don't like the word "goals", I will call them "plans". So, this year, some "plans" I have made for myself include:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&amp;nbsp;Taking off more pounds (lost 25 so far... well, if you don't count the 2 gained back over Christmas! Grrrrrr...)&amp;nbsp;- I feel this plan is attainable because it's working so far, and I feel great. (and I started BEFORE the new year, so it isn't a new year resolution doomed to fail! It was something I was already doing!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Updating my house room-by-room. - I will start with the things I KNOW I can do: paint, sand, de-clutter. Then make a list with my hubby of the things we need to contract out, and set deadlines. We can do this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Putting my apron business on hold. This is a hard decision because I love it, and have some big plans for it, but it is holding me back from finishing this house. I can't have my feet in two different places, so I need to step back from the aprons for a while. There. I said it. It's done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I "plan" to not try to control the things I can't control. Heavenly Father is in charge and He will do what He will do. I plan to be more accepting of what life throws at me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I "plan" to make weekly menus so I can better stick to our budget. This budget is part of the bigger "plan" and if I keep that "plan" in mind, I can do this! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. I am starting to get overwhelmed. So, time to back off. Baby steps! My plan for today, however, is to eventually get dressed, and finish the laundry. Oh, and take the living room Christmas tree down. I feel these plans are do-able. (Almost!) hee hee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2929657070505743851?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2929657070505743851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2929657070505743851&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2929657070505743851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2929657070505743851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/resolving-plan.html' title='Resolving the &quot;Plan&quot;'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3061824615403640269</id><published>2011-01-02T11:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T11:37:39.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year!!!!</title><content type='html'>I am terrible at posting pictures. Actually, I am terrible at taking them, so I don't often have them to post.&amp;nbsp; I did take a few of Christmas this year, but am too lazy to post them today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I have a really bad sore throat, ear ache, and my head is swimming making me dizzy. So, I have&amp;nbsp;a legitimate excuse this time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Christmas was really fantastic this year. More so it seems than in years past. It lasted the whole month of December and was finished off with a beautiful concert on Christmas Eve at the Cathedral of the Madeleine. What better way to celebrate the Saviour's birth than with beautiful music in a beautiful setting with people of many different faiths (cause I know everyone there couldn't have been all Catholics!)? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not posting my new year resolutions here today, though. My main resolution is to just get feeling well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I did teach my son how to make pot roast, which is in the oven cooking as I type, so the new year is starting off great! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy new year! Let's hope this one is fantastic!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3061824615403640269?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3061824615403640269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3061824615403640269&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3061824615403640269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3061824615403640269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2011/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year!!!!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3363751767903834618</id><published>2010-12-21T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-21T11:58:58.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Christmas Chronicles</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TRD46KzVkDI/AAAAAAAAA1w/8CFk05C4dgY/s1600/Christmas-Chronicles%2528250%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TRD46KzVkDI/AAAAAAAAA1w/8CFk05C4dgY/s1600/Christmas-Chronicles%2528250%2529.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is a very sweet 8 part radio program. It is a very animated story of Christmas, and starting with the 2nd episode, it is transfixing! (the first episode is a modern-day guy telling about how he found this big green book, and in it is the story of Christmas.) &amp;nbsp;I think children of all ages would LOVE listening to this this season! I've been listening to it all morning, and just love it! You can hear it on Classical89.org until January 2nd. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.classical89.org/programs/christmaschronicles/episodes/"&gt;http://www.classical89.org/programs/christmaschronicles/episodes/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3363751767903834618?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3363751767903834618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3363751767903834618&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3363751767903834618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3363751767903834618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-chronicles.html' title='The Christmas Chronicles'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TRD46KzVkDI/AAAAAAAAA1w/8CFk05C4dgY/s72-c/Christmas-Chronicles%2528250%2529.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-9019816633841053364</id><published>2010-12-20T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T10:34:02.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The planets must be alligned.... or the world is ending...</title><content type='html'>People. I have ALL my Christmas shopping and wrapping... did you catch that... WRAPPING... all finished! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not trying to rub it in, mind you. It is just that I am so flabbergasted (great word, had to use it!) that I simply cannot contain my enthusiasm and disbelief. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I figure either I am finally "getting it" and&amp;nbsp;have graduated to a more mature status, OR...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is ending. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(which I tend to believe is more likely than that I might be "getting it". And, I read today there is a total lunar eclipse tonight, which lends validity to the second hypothesis. Which makes me a little nervous, and detracts from my joy at having accomplished the impossible.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, if I die, I'll die having finished all my Christmas stuff! So, I win!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-9019816633841053364?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/9019816633841053364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=9019816633841053364&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9019816633841053364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9019816633841053364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/planets-must-be-alligned-or-world-is.html' title='The planets must be alligned.... or the world is ending...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7106171893494815918</id><published>2010-12-17T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T09:45:14.094-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What am I in for???</title><content type='html'>I reeeeaaaalllly have a hankering to crochet these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQuTAJ-XFZI/AAAAAAAAA1s/AhjAiPHQMjQ/s1600/slippers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQuTAJ-XFZI/AAAAAAAAA1s/AhjAiPHQMjQ/s320/slippers.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I just bought the pattern online at Etsy (the online shopping community I ADORE!) and I'm ready to go pick out my yarn and start crocheting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only problem is....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I "fake" crochet. That is to say, I remember a basic stitch my grandma taught me years ago when I was like 9,&amp;nbsp; and I make up other stitches I sort-of remember, and I get by ok. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I have NO idea how to read a crocheting pattern. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, was my $5.50 a waste of money? Well.... that remains to be seen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll let you know how it goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7106171893494815918?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7106171893494815918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7106171893494815918&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7106171893494815918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7106171893494815918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/what-am-i-in-for.html' title='What am I in for???'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQuTAJ-XFZI/AAAAAAAAA1s/AhjAiPHQMjQ/s72-c/slippers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-471365631264818930</id><published>2010-12-13T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T17:31:39.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need some good words of wisdom from Yoda about now.</title><content type='html'>This is a somewhat difficult post to write. For all you Young Women leaders, or Primary Teachers, or Sunday School teachers, or even parents of teens, you will totally know what I am talking about. But, I just have to get it off my chest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday in church, I went out during Sacrament Meeting to get a drink because this dang cold won't leave me alone. My stomach sank the minute I stepped out into the hallway, though. Several..well, MOST... of the youth in our ward were sitting around chatting. Were they getting anything from the speakers? No. Granted, they were high council speakers, but I felt their messages were really good. In fact, especially good. In fact, I was thinking that the youth of the ward would probably really be benefitting from these talks about the time I had my coughing fit. That is when I discovered they weren't benefitting from the talks at all. They weren't even hearing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, some of those youth may possibly even read this post. To you, I say, I love you!!!! You have no idea how much prayer and thought I put into my lessons when I taught you. You can't know how often I thought how I could best help you be the best person you could be, how I could help you avoid some of the obstacles I encountered through some not so great choices when I was younger. How I cried when I found out I wasn't going to be teaching you anymore. And how I hoped you would have heard something I taught you and kept it, and learned from it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I wonder, did you perhaps miss something that could have really helped you in your life? Was the Lord waiting to answer one of your prayers and you weren't there to hear it? I'm not trying to judge, believe me! I am purely speaking with love because I HAVE missed those whisperings of the Spirit. I HAVE missed hearing things I needed to hear. It only made my path harder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. I know this is probably pointless. It is just a frustrated attempt to understand why I, and many other teachers, spend so much time trying to teach the right things when it seems it falls on dead ears. I was just disappointed in the future leaders of our church yesterday.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And perhaps&amp;nbsp;in myself, because I maybe could have done&amp;nbsp;a better job of teaching you in the first place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-471365631264818930?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/471365631264818930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=471365631264818930&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/471365631264818930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/471365631264818930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-need-some-good-words-of-wisdom-from.html' title='I need some good words of wisdom from Yoda about now.'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-9221710551568662515</id><published>2010-12-11T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T16:51:34.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love my new couches!</title><content type='html'>This is what my front room looks like today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQQN2CrchnI/AAAAAAAAA1g/52wavpc9teE/s1600/New+furniture+2010+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQQN2CrchnI/AAAAAAAAA1g/52wavpc9teE/s320/New+furniture+2010+001.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQQN8AVG7aI/AAAAAAAAA1k/RJepCbsE894/s1600/New+furniture+2010+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQQN8AVG7aI/AAAAAAAAA1k/RJepCbsE894/s320/New+furniture+2010+002.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQQOCPLEkcI/AAAAAAAAA1o/hJuj4ELMPhU/s1600/New+furniture+2010+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQQOCPLEkcI/AAAAAAAAA1o/hJuj4ELMPhU/s320/New+furniture+2010+003.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(And thanks to our home teacher, Seth, for all his muscles and help! And to my Bro-in-law for lending us his truck! And to my&amp;nbsp; hubby for forking out the dough! And to me for having good taste to know what would look good in our red livingroom! And to Ashley furniture for "covering up" your blunder in delaying our shipment by expediting it!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-9221710551568662515?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/9221710551568662515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=9221710551568662515&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9221710551568662515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/9221710551568662515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-love-my-new-couches.html' title='I love my new couches!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TQQN2CrchnI/AAAAAAAAA1g/52wavpc9teE/s72-c/New+furniture+2010+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2903864385805073746</id><published>2010-12-11T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T10:32:25.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry (early) Christmas to me....</title><content type='html'>Getting my new couch and love seat today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't wait. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby is there right now picking it up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I'm a little bit excited!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2903864385805073746?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2903864385805073746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2903864385805073746&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2903864385805073746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2903864385805073746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/merry-early-christmas-to-me.html' title='Merry (early) Christmas to me....'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4164485954947978562</id><published>2010-12-10T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T10:27:06.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Annual call from "Elfie"...</title><content type='html'>My son has an elf. She is the elf for our whole extended family, incidentally, and she calls every year around this time to check up on the kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I thought the secret was out. My son came in and said after talking to Elfie: "Mom... Elfie sounds a lot like Grandma, doesn't she?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I don't know if he's onto her or if he just really wants to believe that she exists, but he love his phone call with "Elfie" yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I have a bone to pick with Elfie. My son asked her what Santa's favorite cookie was, and she said Chocolate Chip. Then, he asked her what her favorite cookie was so we could have some waiting for her as well. She couldn't have said Chocolate Chip, or sugar cookies... noooooo, not Elfie. Apparently, Elfie like coconut macaroons with macadamia nuts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Elfie. Thanks for putting me through a lot more work to keep up the illusion! Thanks a bunch! &lt;br /&gt;(Love ya, though!!!!!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4164485954947978562?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4164485954947978562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4164485954947978562&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4164485954947978562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4164485954947978562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/annual-call-from-elfie.html' title='Annual call from &quot;Elfie&quot;...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4088662643573894485</id><published>2010-12-08T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T11:30:53.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You mean, Santa is the UPS guy???</title><content type='html'>Yes. Christmas was ruined this year by the UPS guy. &lt;br /&gt;I'm sure he didn't mean to, it wasn't really his fault. &lt;br /&gt;In fact, he was probably mortified when my son opened the door last night when he rang the bell. &lt;br /&gt;You see, the UPS man was delivering a very large box. A box intended for my son's main Christmas present. &lt;br /&gt;The one we were going to send him on a scavenger hunt to find, and it would be all set up in the family room, ready to play. &lt;br /&gt;The Guitar Hero complete band set. &lt;br /&gt;Ya.&lt;br /&gt;Well, the problem with this particular delivery was that... well... the box it came in had "Guitar Hero Complete Band Set" plastered all over it, with pictures and flames and... well... it was pretty obvious.&lt;br /&gt;My son came running downstairs crying.&lt;br /&gt;"Mom... I feel so horrible. I just found out what I'm getting for Christmas!!!!" (Waaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;I didn't believe him. How could he be correct? Who sends the actual packaging right through the mail without putting it in a separate plain brown box? Who does that? NO ONE!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Except the moron I ordered the gift from on Ebay. Ya... HE sends the regular box.... just as it is... with an address sticker slapped on the front. I'm surprised the postal guy could even find it! So I guess it's really the Ebay guy's fault.&lt;br /&gt;This was the gift I had told my son to write a letter to Santa for. &lt;br /&gt;The letter he hadn't gotten around to writing yet. &lt;br /&gt;I don't know if he's put two and two together yet, but he's a pretty smart kid. It won't be long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks EBAY guy.... for ruining Christmas!!!!!!!!! (I think the Ebay guy needs a wife. A woman would never have sent the box that way... at Christmas time... as it was clearly intended as a gift! A WOMAN would never have dashed a poor 9 year old's dillusions of jolly fat men in red suits breaking into people's homes to spread a little good cheer and eat cookies!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a little angry. Can you tell?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4088662643573894485?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4088662643573894485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4088662643573894485&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4088662643573894485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4088662643573894485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/you-mean-santa-is-ups-guy.html' title='You mean, Santa is the UPS guy???'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2703678038670051550</id><published>2010-12-07T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T09:29:18.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mice, sore throats, and dieting at Christmas time...</title><content type='html'>These are a few of my least favorite things! (Just so you know!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick recap of the weekend goings-on:&lt;br /&gt;-Had a family party for my side of the family at our house on Sunday. Hubby was VERY sick and stayed in bed the whole time, but the party was fun. &lt;br /&gt;-We discovered the "hidden" food source for all the mice in our home. I couldn't figure out where they were eating, because they weren't getting into any of the cupboards, thankfully. Then, we found it. The giant bag of grain someone had given us and we had stashed in the dark recesses of our laundry room. Yep... the bag moved of its own accord. It had a big neon sign above it that said "Taylor bed and breakfast, come and stay!" Needless to say, we had a mouse appocalypse on Sunday night as we set trap after trap after trap for the little buggers coming back to the big grain-bag party. The killings have finally tapered off... but I KNOW there is one holding out somewhere in the floorboards, just waiting for me to let my guard down! I'll get you my pretty... and your little friends too!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;- My&amp;nbsp; hubby shared his sore throat with me and now I have a full-blown freakishly horrible cold. Couldn't sleep last night. Pretty miserable. Yuck.&lt;br /&gt;-I've been watching what I eat for the past few weeks, and... well, let's just say... dieting during the holidays is pretty crummy!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2703678038670051550?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2703678038670051550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2703678038670051550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2703678038670051550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2703678038670051550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/mice-sore-throats-and-dieting-at.html' title='Mice, sore throats, and dieting at Christmas time...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-1693755154662550189</id><published>2010-12-02T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T20:52:10.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Christmas list this year</title><content type='html'>-1 night with no homework for the kid so that means no homework for me.&lt;br /&gt;-1 warm serving of gingerbread drizzled with rum sauce, hot rolls, and christmas cookies.&lt;br /&gt;-1&amp;nbsp;head massage&lt;br /&gt;-My whole house to be cleaned for me, just once. &lt;br /&gt;-A soak in a jetted tub with bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;-For my Relief Society activity (which I am in charge of) to NOT come the same weekend as the Sunday I teach Relief Society, and the same day as my family Christmas party which is being held at my house.&lt;br /&gt;-1 piece of decadent dark chocolate&lt;br /&gt;-To see the new Harry Potter movie&lt;br /&gt;-Warm snuggly jammies with feet.&lt;br /&gt;The mouse to be dead once and for all!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-1693755154662550189?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/1693755154662550189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=1693755154662550189&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1693755154662550189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/1693755154662550189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-christmas-list-this-year.html' title='My Christmas list this year'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-2037983922253283964</id><published>2010-12-01T09:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T09:52:48.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Television debut for this apron...</title><content type='html'>Monday at noon on chanel 2, my darling little apron will be appearing! Yee Haw!!! (Thanks Loralee!) I love it so much, I think I'd better go buy some more fabric and make myself one!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TPZ9HQBa0XI/AAAAAAAAA1c/B-0_bjLqX9A/s1600/039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TPZ9HQBa0XI/AAAAAAAAA1c/B-0_bjLqX9A/s320/039.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-2037983922253283964?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/2037983922253283964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=2037983922253283964&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2037983922253283964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/2037983922253283964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/12/television-debut-for-this-apron.html' title='Television debut for this apron...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TPZ9HQBa0XI/AAAAAAAAA1c/B-0_bjLqX9A/s72-c/039.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-4085741361925893980</id><published>2010-11-29T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T08:45:12.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough with the holiday already.... time to get to work!</title><content type='html'>I've been feeling guilty lately. Something that doesn't happen often for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I have been feeling guilty for neglecting my Saucy Frocks lately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today I will be sewing up a storm to get some aprons posted online for the holidays. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to get a few orders completed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to see if I even remember how to sew, it's been so long! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you try to reach me and are not successful, I will be burried under a pile of apron fabric in my basement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long, world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-4085741361925893980?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/4085741361925893980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=4085741361925893980&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4085741361925893980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/4085741361925893980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/11/enough-with-holiday-already-time-to-get.html' title='Enough with the holiday already.... time to get to work!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-6299323933314307765</id><published>2010-11-26T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T22:14:45.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New couch for early Christmas!!!!</title><content type='html'>This:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TPCTcgSphQI/AAAAAAAAA1U/En-Wz02s21Q/s1600/couch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TPCTcgSphQI/AAAAAAAAA1U/En-Wz02s21Q/s1600/couch.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;is my present from my sweet hubby this year!!!! Thanks babe! It fits perfectly!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-6299323933314307765?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/6299323933314307765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=6299323933314307765&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6299323933314307765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/6299323933314307765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/11/new-couch-for-early-christmas.html' title='New couch for early Christmas!!!!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aWEPKzULylw/TPCTcgSphQI/AAAAAAAAA1U/En-Wz02s21Q/s72-c/couch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-7016026256553056077</id><published>2010-11-23T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T16:02:02.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>High National Debt... hurry, turn off all the lights!!!!</title><content type='html'>My son learned about the national debt today. He came home and pulled up a web site that counts all the national debt and people and gold amounts and many more stats. Then he proceeded to explain them all to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, my son wasn't my little 9 year old anymore. He was talking about concepts I had no idea what they meant! He sounded so smart and... well..... responsible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, he's gone around the house and turned out all the lights and is asking that we try not to spend any more money. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if that number at the bottom of the national debt calculator will slow down a bit if I stop spending.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-7016026256553056077?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/7016026256553056077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=7016026256553056077&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7016026256553056077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/7016026256553056077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/11/high-national-debt-hurry-turn-off-all.html' title='High National Debt... hurry, turn off all the lights!!!!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3697578174317421296</id><published>2010-11-17T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T09:18:07.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough Said...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;My two men&amp;nbsp;have been &amp;nbsp;sick from Saturday through yesterday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Can I just say...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'M EXHAUSTED!!!!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: large;"&gt;(Mothers, you know what I am talking about!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3697578174317421296?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3697578174317421296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3697578174317421296&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3697578174317421296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3697578174317421296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/11/enough-said.html' title='Enough Said...'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8969321858469746458.post-3723456654751446447</id><published>2010-11-11T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T08:34:21.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd better start repenting!!!</title><content type='html'>Seems there's a plague at our home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Hornets nesting in the walls&lt;br /&gt;- mice in the ceiling&lt;br /&gt;- clogged sewer pipe&lt;br /&gt;- unfinished remodeling projects&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait.... what was that last thing? Oh, scratch that... not really a plague, more of something plaguing ME!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooo.... I think with all this going on maybe I'd better do some repenting!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8969321858469746458-3723456654751446447?l=iluverin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/feeds/3723456654751446447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8969321858469746458&amp;postID=3723456654751446447&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3723456654751446447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8969321858469746458/posts/default/3723456654751446447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iluverin.blogspot.com/2010/11/id-better-start-repenting.html' title='I&apos;d better start repenting!!!'/><author><name>Erin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
