tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70793652274967761522024-02-21T02:09:35.037-08:00Alz JunkyardJust talkin' to myself...~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-16467502202899476722013-01-02T15:19:00.000-08:002013-01-02T15:22:02.477-08:00ScoutScout was born in 1995 in the closet of my home on Grim Street in North Park. He was the most outgoing of the litter and so therefore an obvious "keeper". Like his mother, Sunflower, and siblings, he loved people and never passed up an opportunity to get some love from someone. Before he was even full-grown, he had my neighbors convinced he was a stray and worthy of their morning cereal milk. What a stinker!<br />
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For some crazy reason, he used to jump up onto the sink when I was in the shower and paw at the shower curtain. More than once, he decided to jump up to the shower curtain rod and teeter around for a few moments. I easily imagined the chaos that would erupt if he fell into the shower on me. Yikes!<br />
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He was an avid hunter and I enjoyed watching him sit very still under the bird bush for hours, ignoring even the shaking of the treat can, until it filled up with unsuspecting chirping morsels. In fact, he loved being outdoors so much he chipped his front two canine teeth jumping out my second story window onto the driveway below (on two separate occasions!). After our move to our Alabama Street home, he still managed to bag a bird from the safety of his screened patio every now and then. <br />
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In our new house, Scout took immense pleasure in tormenting his new roommate Beck, got stuck in the walls and crawlspace during our varied construction projects, and took every opportunity to make a run for it when a door was left open a crack.<br />
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I'll never forget the look on his face when we brought Jacob home from the hospital. He ran over to sniff that strange creature in the baby carrier and then gave me a look that said "just try to replace me." In the end, he was surprisingly tolerant of the arrival of the babies, enjoying their warm cribs every chance he got. As toddlers, they each got their fair share of swats and bites but they learned how to treat animals with respect and love. I think they thought of him a just another brother.<br />
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Our beloved cat Scout died January 20, 2008 after a mercifully short battle with cancer of the liver. Although 12.5 years seems so short now, and I really expected him to live forever, he had a very good life and was a truly remarkable cat. <br />
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~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-14411876762924878982011-09-19T17:13:00.000-07:002011-09-19T17:26:23.449-07:00My (Other) Important Child<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>The important thing about our child is that he loves his family.</em></div>
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<em>It is true that he is energetic and independent.</em></div>
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<em>He can kick a soccer ball in the sun or play chess for fun.</em></div>
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<em>He pets the cats - imagine that!</em></div>
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<em>He skis in the snow and surfs with his bro.</em></div>
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<em>He likes to make sweets and good things to eat.</em></div>
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<em>An he is quick like a bug to enjoy a group hug.</em></div>
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<em>But the important thing about our child is that he loves his family.</em></div>
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~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-25287921906714911482011-06-19T17:16:00.000-07:002011-09-19T17:31:19.374-07:00Summer Break: Then and NowSince I always like to hear about what my friends are doing to make their lives more interesting, then I guess it is only fair I write about what I am doing to my my own life more interesting.<br />
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Well, ...<br />
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Man, this is just so sad.<br />
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Remember when you were a kid and summer vacation held all the promise in the world? It was like warmth and freedom and bare feet and chlorine all wrapped into one glorious event that took<br />
f o r e v e r to happen. And then when it did it was actually more like a whole lot of Price Is Right and "read a book for god's sakes and get out of this house before I..." Slam goes the back door and boy, its really hot out here - where are my shoes? and when the heck is Julie coming home from her road trip to Tennessee?...<br />
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Sorry, I digress. So this summer I am actually going to do interesting things (while still working just enough to retain my awesome job) like: take a backpacking trip with the gals and go on a road trip with the kids. We are going to spend whole chuncks of time totally barefoot! And when the house is too hot, we will be sitting in the shade at the park or camping near a high-elevation lake, sipping lemonade, eating deli sandwiches, and roasting s'mores.<br />
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Wish me luck!~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-22352355791799164212011-02-15T23:05:00.000-08:002011-03-28T13:09:35.369-07:00Grand PliéWhen I first sat down to write this post, I had just come home from my first ballet class in over thirty years. It was going to be a funny piece about how I had dressed like Punky Brewster in a class among black-leotarded women. How they wore their hair in neat little buns: I had mine in pigtails. They are cutely athletic: Let’s just say I am not and leave it at that. Once we actually started dancing it didn’t get any better. After losing my balance spinning across the room I remembered why I’d quit ballet as a child. Imagine Hagrid in a tutu in a china shop. In draft format this post was funny.<br />
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Now here I am, four weeks into the class. I’ve been working hard, lots of sweating. The teacher is the company principal - Russian accent and all. I was starting to think this wasn’t as funny as it is really really good for me.<br />
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And then I went to class tonight. Tonight a huge group of new students joined the class. Most of them are clearly not beginner dancers. All of them are pretty and delicate. They smiled and had fun, even with legs up on the barre. They were wearing makeup. I totally fell apart. I couldn’t remember the combinations. I mixed up my pliés and relevés. I’ll spare all the gory details but the story ends with me quitting the class in tears and a silent vow not to return.<br />
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A pint of Ben & Jerry’s later and I’m ready to dig into the meat of what the heck happened tonight. Why did I let myself be shaken so badly? This is not the first time I’ve stood out for being the big klutzy girl. I’m fairly sure I wasn’t upset by the realization that I make for a shitty ballerina. I was only hoping to get stronger toes out of the class, after all. Tonight I found myself sitting in my car bawling my eyes out and wishing I were a better artist, photographer, soccer player, runner, pianist, student, mother, and even dancer. And really, is it so bad to want to be good at something? I don’t think so.~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-67246174534612866412011-01-30T16:21:00.001-08:002011-03-28T13:11:25.606-07:00PolyvoreThe perfect way to go shopping without spending a cent.<br />
<div><div style="height: 400px; position: relative; width: 400px;"><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/peach_green_vintage/set?.embedder=2226373&.mid=embed&id=27729230"><img alt="peach + green vintage" border="0" force="1" height="400" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFnJwSzNXODhzNEJHWE1RTFdJSjJLMlEAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg" title="peach + green vintage" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<small><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/peach_green_vintage/set?.embedder=2226373&.mid=embed&id=27729230">peach + green vintage</a> </small></div>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-77119861488714243162010-08-18T19:52:00.000-07:002010-08-18T21:13:58.776-07:00If A Woodchuck Could ChuckSadly, last month our passes to the science museum expired. Ever since I was a kid, I've loved that place. Around every corner lies the possibility of new discovery. Even familiar objects take on a mysterious quality amongst the scientific gadgetry.<br />
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My kids tend to gravitate towards button-pushing exhibits and things that need to be built. It's who they are.<br />
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This is my awesome builder son the eldest frantically warning me not to take his picture. "It's not ready yet!!!" He's a perfectionist like his dad. One thing about me - 85% is plenty good enough.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXl9jYpI4zQMIjOhAzbsfJAcza4y6cCYkq3flDA7ZcwtqgNStSZ5YvdKd2SRz41lTmIFSyMQpUgeAmkaZEc4NZtzK35t_boyEQ5SSKouX3pi3_yVFE_9AgX_LVRJQb84RDoA3EzInAEu-U/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451657295172161394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXl9jYpI4zQMIjOhAzbsfJAcza4y6cCYkq3flDA7ZcwtqgNStSZ5YvdKd2SRz41lTmIFSyMQpUgeAmkaZEc4NZtzK35t_boyEQ5SSKouX3pi3_yVFE_9AgX_LVRJQb84RDoA3EzInAEu-U/s320/001.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
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Here's the other one, proudly displaying his work.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi043d4RPPK5km6BjtbEH7NaGVgv5lz2_swAB99QWT6k9a0t4S7te0tKtwhmAH8yTsxPlzZHI4KwcMRs_Ci6cpIZ7DrjRT-dKwNzashEAAgdlqw4T6Kj6r2dw09SzxPUHoHBnGEmhnA7HDH/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451657289681841282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi043d4RPPK5km6BjtbEH7NaGVgv5lz2_swAB99QWT6k9a0t4S7te0tKtwhmAH8yTsxPlzZHI4KwcMRs_Ci6cpIZ7DrjRT-dKwNzashEAAgdlqw4T6Kj6r2dw09SzxPUHoHBnGEmhnA7HDH/s320/008.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a> <br />
Sneak peak!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKiJ30K_J8ieUegZVvs9Qtkr_8pcnQ92mQBbOI32NwN3ot0X542iSNV7gTUKd7ESbHnfzCMvQueX5NSD61YIOJ0wI-jO9Mbm3qReDTOkGuw-TRkomC0gNTE9AlVMCHpFdmBwnQrJhzMPl5/s1600-h/018.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451657277279145938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKiJ30K_J8ieUegZVvs9Qtkr_8pcnQ92mQBbOI32NwN3ot0X542iSNV7gTUKd7ESbHnfzCMvQueX5NSD61YIOJ0wI-jO9Mbm3qReDTOkGuw-TRkomC0gNTE9AlVMCHpFdmBwnQrJhzMPl5/s320/018.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
"Now it's okay, mom."<br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPG_fYmwwp8tfwuLA0VhjghvI7rXF56UEgV7IQ2mKM_YgNysrVKgY9qzbVrAVq5szXAhLak2JRAjHap2kQqOfOBWXnPjxCqMqWP4gco6B7qrO_Hg5gVgJDie8UvypRLcJQgi77FsVlsDqu/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451657268688066546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPG_fYmwwp8tfwuLA0VhjghvI7rXF56UEgV7IQ2mKM_YgNysrVKgY9qzbVrAVq5szXAhLak2JRAjHap2kQqOfOBWXnPjxCqMqWP4gco6B7qrO_Hg5gVgJDie8UvypRLcJQgi77FsVlsDqu/s320/015.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
The woodchucks might be envious.</div>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-3659794773918074692010-07-02T10:11:00.000-07:002010-07-02T11:45:08.724-07:00No Vacancy<div>For some reason, I only pictured the day some creature moved into the owl box as a joyfully happy one. I kinda thought we might have a party, maybe even invite some rats for dinner. I clearly did not fully imagine all the tenant possibilities.<br /><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489380438569295186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnP5mUEVurrIkvBRT1bdD_yZOyr7-t4c-ZPuBBXTktCwImv1qzM3jCvFyuMF0BxFNnBs96Bq7nNZ5ET1s9z04dACbZ93FJY-nanKZDFx3rOMPgoAPi5BJSq00psK0yNqN3-LcAGLMe-yt/s320/bees+003.JPG" /><br /><br />Yep, those are what they look like. Now we have an apiary and, considering that I just recently wrote to Ben & Jerry's suggesting a honey-flavored ice cream called Save the Bees (with proceeds going to bee disease research), I don't see how I can have them exterminated. Rats!!<br /><br />Anyone want any bees?~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-24337738285810462022010-03-28T12:55:00.000-07:002010-04-05T21:15:17.308-07:00A Beautiful Pea-Green BoatIn our never-ending effort to reduce, reuse, blah blah blah, I've started a compost pile. It is conveniently located right next to our kitchen door. Obviously, I'm doing something wrong because instead of making awesome dirt, I'm feeding all the local rats plus some of their out-of-town relatives. They've been partying it up right next to our kitchen door.<br /><br />Danceman very kindly offered to swiftly rid the yard of such vermin but I balked. "What about all the wildlife that might end up eating the poisoned rats??" I cried.<br /><br />"We need more wildlife then." He said.<br /><br />Hmmmm.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4d2WcZ-EHnJm02PSZOXEiWyNI_9ror8VvHC6mtkpIq1NN-3s7aXQmG_Gkg-4vAIL36GSn4nq2Kddb4xOFPb4ZCmH0kwxgddFu9mslo-gV4Ov-24-lC_Mln4qXNHE-jyGN9m8n42Bw3bh/s1600-h/Bird+Owl+Barn+20.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 244px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443403928432495426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4d2WcZ-EHnJm02PSZOXEiWyNI_9ror8VvHC6mtkpIq1NN-3s7aXQmG_Gkg-4vAIL36GSn4nq2Kddb4xOFPb4ZCmH0kwxgddFu9mslo-gV4Ov-24-lC_Mln4qXNHE-jyGN9m8n42Bw3bh/s320/Bird+Owl+Barn+20.JPG" /></a><br />Then I wondered wheather I could entice a hungy family of barn owls to move into our backyard and I set out to buy or build the perfect owl home. I called <a href="http://projectwildlife.org/">Project Wildlife </a>to find out how big the local owls are and they invited me to an owl box building workshop. Of course, I signed up immediately. Who could pass up an opportunity to use power tools in a safely controlled environment?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadtWBPp2q27KYqmSlhvZeh68rVpGEipcRmbldopTVQspgMWwpU0QwpQutq-yBwCq32fyAtlUlz6ZCwtoHAUxWi6Ru20whGl8t1tNlhV3Mu8vYQ6RPoEoA321u2VwET6JAtwITBbxwab-W/s1600-h/owl+box+class+1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443403922181057954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadtWBPp2q27KYqmSlhvZeh68rVpGEipcRmbldopTVQspgMWwpU0QwpQutq-yBwCq32fyAtlUlz6ZCwtoHAUxWi6Ru20whGl8t1tNlhV3Mu8vYQ6RPoEoA321u2VwET6JAtwITBbxwab-W/s320/owl+box+class+1.jpg" /></a><br />Did you know an average barn owl can eat two rat-sized piles of meat every day? Me neither.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMsi92ye1fRQMWpJ0Ul7Z9nHCDJJ17-Y6G9Ee134Tk_tbwz7ZtuBms315Ihz_c99GHPYW3Ptz9rN0buZqWXuIb1haDHqeB1yzVigYjblgke-5fdI5Ck3hiOLkI16Azbl6FelhA1b6hNOU/s1600-h/owl+box+class+2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443403912916411810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMsi92ye1fRQMWpJ0Ul7Z9nHCDJJ17-Y6G9Ee134Tk_tbwz7ZtuBms315Ihz_c99GHPYW3Ptz9rN0buZqWXuIb1haDHqeB1yzVigYjblgke-5fdI5Ck3hiOLkI16Azbl6FelhA1b6hNOU/s320/owl+box+class+2.jpg" /></a> Chicks in the workshop.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhRSYpouzQu7nWIxZ0gdO5-oKOxBx1qGFhG1yS_qabuUV2MzZI85gnsVEzBUKO4fYtKdVQeScoNhYwJBTNQ4eOln2wXkf6qPEieFswwfwKWQEy1sfrCkQyUaF4z630JihiUfBMWLhkU3v/s1600-h/owl+box+class+3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443403904501799042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhRSYpouzQu7nWIxZ0gdO5-oKOxBx1qGFhG1yS_qabuUV2MzZI85gnsVEzBUKO4fYtKdVQeScoNhYwJBTNQ4eOln2wXkf6qPEieFswwfwKWQEy1sfrCkQyUaF4z630JihiUfBMWLhkU3v/s320/owl+box+class+3.jpg" /></a> We learned valuable lessons such as 'Measure Twice. Cut Once.'<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaGFfsFWZt7EfAYd6siuj3wl_8j7uR6Z4tYLeK7X2K0t7XjAL9yWfot9sybQQmQjlxs68iUmQ9r8y7zudn7vgY5VGqo8TFG1MUgE5ZVtwW2cL5pyoAYZE3jovNbY47Y45yL15gerPQ3iv/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443401582749967506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaGFfsFWZt7EfAYd6siuj3wl_8j7uR6Z4tYLeK7X2K0t7XjAL9yWfot9sybQQmQjlxs68iUmQ9r8y7zudn7vgY5VGqo8TFG1MUgE5ZVtwW2cL5pyoAYZE3jovNbY47Y45yL15gerPQ3iv/s320/012.JPG" /></a> </div><div>I drilled this hole, and many others all by myself!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9_lbTZvKVNPXLtUDE240LNi07wWcUckF34Sh4yYRnpdrYvHQFIUhvWJgAqQRDi6aub6ZldgNUh1bnME8A_4nNUioa3vh9Xo_-TROli_y7lIB8-31RP4ldRnBEUkPcX49xAjUDiwvyI-Z/s1600-h/014.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443401570038100818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9_lbTZvKVNPXLtUDE240LNi07wWcUckF34Sh4yYRnpdrYvHQFIUhvWJgAqQRDi6aub6ZldgNUh1bnME8A_4nNUioa3vh9Xo_-TROli_y7lIB8-31RP4ldRnBEUkPcX49xAjUDiwvyI-Z/s320/014.JPG" /></a>Then I took it home and stained it.<br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrFsFkOpbaVgu_c2T1yyzlQ5kriam2KEpO4vx4-VF7xXz02f35SRO4apYVi85JaRMawRCOGmbQt_snBLvKEghUEr0pICLE0V6R436kw3IhyphenhyphenTJeCDFp36qZplsuqd3LQ3_hLlNhEPzw54k/s1600-h/013.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443401568117807970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrFsFkOpbaVgu_c2T1yyzlQ5kriam2KEpO4vx4-VF7xXz02f35SRO4apYVi85JaRMawRCOGmbQt_snBLvKEghUEr0pICLE0V6R436kw3IhyphenhyphenTJeCDFp36qZplsuqd3LQ3_hLlNhEPzw54k/s320/013.JPG" /></div></div><p></a>Here is Danceman, climbing up a really tall ladder with powertools to properly place our new owl family's home. Because I'm a bit scared of heights and he's such a stud.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBQtX9RK3ywSfDPemJZpwLgfMqU6jvaozhBDSlu96uj3iJBho0-dKi36m3zT10NUEyZSMxcNpdUxJwRQTWz_XOxDSvW0rETQnQ6svmjpaqaQiDGymv2U-iS3gADjuVOm48Q5TSaZOAIYN/s1600-h/owlbox1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451650126906490594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBQtX9RK3ywSfDPemJZpwLgfMqU6jvaozhBDSlu96uj3iJBho0-dKi36m3zT10NUEyZSMxcNpdUxJwRQTWz_XOxDSvW0rETQnQ6svmjpaqaQiDGymv2U-iS3gADjuVOm48Q5TSaZOAIYN/s320/owlbox1.JPG" /></a> The front door, hidden amongst the evil elm tree. Its not really evil, it just drops a lot of leaves. In our neighbor's pool. Sorry, neighbors. <p> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNRx05W6EgfTYZi5JsQTjJbRR2LIFnpuNvU-55IwLC09Z6qHdNxN5liScP7BLpK4BTTkJvhtpYhMiIFOW107v06IWdyWUANzSYhW5NXFB41j9Cn7lzuQtjRFhSLTKU_lz92Trav2rRBy-/s1600-h/owlbox2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451650135048586626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNRx05W6EgfTYZi5JsQTjJbRR2LIFnpuNvU-55IwLC09Z6qHdNxN5liScP7BLpK4BTTkJvhtpYhMiIFOW107v06IWdyWUANzSYhW5NXFB41j9Cn7lzuQtjRFhSLTKU_lz92Trav2rRBy-/s320/owlbox2.JPG" /></a>View of the back. Engineered by Danceman.<br /><p></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQUNOkHW3LpEUKNgnd_mQrwqye4OU77ShyYYKUgunBUD4g4Qffpd7BEY5-9fXRV3SRml4NBwdVbtbxc7Ss3UPYTLa_Bin4nMZvVWQdgx1pliuiJv4PmRLKUB1yXExhoS3HHzuJEaOyAeM_/s1600-h/owlbox3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451650146078733186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQUNOkHW3LpEUKNgnd_mQrwqye4OU77ShyYYKUgunBUD4g4Qffpd7BEY5-9fXRV3SRml4NBwdVbtbxc7Ss3UPYTLa_Bin4nMZvVWQdgx1pliuiJv4PmRLKUB1yXExhoS3HHzuJEaOyAeM_/s320/owlbox3.JPG" /></a>It's not really a pea-green boat and hopefully, no pussycats can get in, but we're still hoping for an owl...<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451650152812687474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3c9G7jhwQ9Lx27ail3pO2aIL7rAjDOKpAb24aDXZIH-5_sWiVzj_toQsCFMXkMRZ3r8slUobdBQMzKjyXdQbmEjkK-NP1h-b81IGYPadlGus2EAAPDCVJHzAjuXVf0m78gTBhZ64y-VwF/s320/owlbox4.JPG" /><br />A big thank you to Gavin, the instructor, and all the volunteers at Project Wildlife for their valuable time and expertise. Also, since I'm such a nuckle-head, special thanks to Trish for sending me the workshop photos.<br /></div></div></div></div><p></p><p></p>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-86800944068568272792009-10-29T11:16:00.000-07:002009-11-17T20:06:45.305-08:00Rituals, Traditions, and other Bad Habits<span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;">"Mommy, I don't like turkey. Or mashed potatos. Can we have something else to eat for Thanksgiving dinner?" There is no reasonable answer to that question. "What do you want, dear? Sushi?"</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262643680561141282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn12p7x_yC5fOi9sIpt6tD1S0-NNwkdsFvq5xQFxy1kti0SVAhd3ct_XO4F7kYZJ4436Z1XpFCQ4uE42GcdWvl9XCWKC9iWfFE6N_Ap9uczIKA81Pt6U7_lBxdrKJJDnxOHCXT394rMmd4/s320/IMG_0824%5B1%5D" /><br />Actually, Danceman joined a Hawaiian family for Thanksgiving one year and they did serve sushi. But they also had a turkey. Sounds perfect, doesn't it? But ‘tis the season and all that so maybe it warrants some sitting and thinking about.</span><br /><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;"></span><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303463230391383890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwwxMfDS4cHalo4f7lLMRjthM8tcflo5joO4vZiiBohbraUknw_oe2F27HxkZLCzhcvuX9R9c7jEtd4jeyoCLHqdQEgeR5N4eezp8T2OzfrTztt2oTbAsaRoLypap2vYZDxfRyaiYRJ1m9/s320/IMG_0884.JPG" /><br /><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;">When one of the little dudes asked me what our family traditions are for a school project, my mind went a little blank. Okay, totally blank. Maybe we don’t really have any? It’s not like we tromp out into the snow to select and hack down a fresh-from-the-woods Christmas tree every year. We don’t go out caroling or have a family casserole recipe that’s been handed down through the generations.</span><br /><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303463067841703922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnFha9o4dHRHSAhlC62Shbvayh0P3B6VNUC_rgYFci17q_Xvr0zaQ_3odgQX19NH-hG6pZ-Q_b_mr-QomXM37ib2NWeZ7TiqPNo-2_tdF0VKboS2YE1lbu56JnffV6ss1DrQsDsS9okle/s320/IMG_0891.JPG" /></span><br /><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;">The dictionary defines<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Family_traditions"> <i>family traditions</i> </a>as a collective of ideas and attitudes that one inherits from one’s family. Their purpose is to “promote a sense of identity and a feeling of closeness, a sense of security and assurance in today’s fast, hectic, and ever-changing world.” And nothing screams feelings of closeness more than bacon and eggs. And French toast. </span><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303462884581155666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU6iQOw3kGjRq33qz1Y4_mbVjBf7kHHy21xDb9PpNoHjc35N4MbwVqhIusMRlvbOhEVIbfYJ-JiOShZBNCOezwuI1ye6m2-S2hkkfZvnqIArt33UD45F0-WgHl6PsqZzX0Z8S4IEqMkDMA/s320/IMG_0892.JPG" /> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;">And so every Saturday morning, since the day after we first met, Danceman and I have moseyed over to the 19<sup>th</sup> Hole for breakfast.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262643938015541154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JFgv-grfgzgh5qRtgK_asjoQelQ9usn3D6XyOGRLCM4otnB-6tEjJEZcFJEYDRqkvSg7P8wyDFvOtXSr65ISDa3F7VKrODESkZh4m1IWC_D9EU7biG5DOz7a1v4EWNkaYCVdSy54R1n3/s320/IMG_0827%5B1%5D" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;">It’s nothing fancy, or healthy for that matter. In the beginning we loved it because it was close by, cheap, and there was never a wait. Plus it has a fabulous view. Now the little dudes love it too but not for those reasons. They probably feel like sitting in the same booth each weekend promotes a feeling of closeness and sense of security. Well, and they like the view too.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', 'sans-serif';font-size:10;color:#333333;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262643495624800178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnWwDLQxmVFjZz8oAOor192pQ7W2UYv-DG3_fYQkqD5gIMQ81Ln-9s_2chtHAdSjjc_YchTGd2QCyzqN1HpVN57XNGtYzmC4riYCMx5dP1qbn64XLOgATeUuzuH2B9s1oZybtAt2ecV3K/s320/IMG_0825%5B1%5D" /></span></p><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262643299546843634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHRys0yPb2FoYJShF1y4GAn2cAX7hXohIR7BgUApzDfUIlwMIUk3Xbpve6EQLTTlN4zD2gF6_E3gZ6g3uS_dHy4yyRFS6M6JWm6x3fLc2vL6Hrni0Pltsw35DVnKCKYYJbKtvp2R1YJHp/s320/IMG_0829%5B1%5D" /></div>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-67868994219888637272009-10-18T15:08:00.000-07:002009-10-18T15:08:00.804-07:00Afternoon at the Driving RangeTink! Out over the canyon<br />Purple bandana and<br />Plaid shorts<br />Fit nice over beautiful my-aged guy.<br />Tink! Too far left.<br />The show isn’t done but opens soon.<br />An artist?<br />An actor? Directed by the tides or the moon.<br />Tink!<br />No ring, it figures.<br />Has he balanced the art of bill paying<br />And palm swaying?<br />Tink! Nice one, honey.<br />We climb into our 4-door and pass him<br />As he scooters away.~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-89513539832638825732009-09-24T15:33:00.001-07:002009-09-24T16:08:38.131-07:00My List (continued)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGN6D2mmptx9DYqvkZiY0NIadS0B7xvM491pOyyvHWNVvoxzlmdFQq5B2tpNWafR8gMLNDP9oZhuqp-C7Ye7xXxsH55CvBX3XxLrtXzY7x_IKmSDFj-KOAT1lOSpUjJ2f8tc-MIyAvozz/s1600-h/Face+your+fears.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385172184376368962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 55px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGN6D2mmptx9DYqvkZiY0NIadS0B7xvM491pOyyvHWNVvoxzlmdFQq5B2tpNWafR8gMLNDP9oZhuqp-C7Ye7xXxsH55CvBX3XxLrtXzY7x_IKmSDFj-KOAT1lOSpUjJ2f8tc-MIyAvozz/s400/Face+your+fears.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />What I am afraid of? Nothing out of the ordinary, that’s for sure: heights, creepy bugs, small spaces, things that go bump in the night, bad things happening to my kids. Since I cannot do anything about the last two, and critters only really bother me when I’m caught by surprise or when I’m trying to sleep (“ack! what’s that THING in my sleeping bag?”), I’m going to explore facing the others.<br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385170649295514322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPCr0QxUSYDFnMkTIxoVG3tQJ-vTlNkTygbauRjPrDVdcTtDJ9gwLjqr2xduf6LavfGDc7LKUr9pEEBfDxotxuetYFYvcaVQpsS1RXWrh3tBdrGq7Mb4U84UPD88MPGUpM0pQtM0Ylfpt/s320/IMG_1284.JPG" border="0" /><br />There is something about looking over a railing down to the teeny tiny world below that makes my stomach twist up in knots. I cannot ride in a glass elevator with my eyes open beyond the 4th floor or so. I’ve been on a very small airplane to a very remote place and I’m thinking once is enough for that kind of experience – for sure.<br /><br />Of course bungy-jumping or parachuting would be scary things to tackle. For the list, however, I’m going to say that hang-gliding is something I have easy access to and would certainly never forget. You can probably die hang-gliding, right? I promise I’ll take pictures.<br /><br />I suppose if I were really serious about this Face Your Fears thing, I would try to overcome my fear of small spaces by doing some cave exploring. But I just don’t want to. Isn’t that enough? Bleh. Makes my stomach hurt just looking at <a href="http://desertislands.org/leviathan.htm">pictures</a> of it.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDj_QLusVwmsVxWOarzaBmk9u-Rx1VXGEv5zzr2QNCxbvMh86yMlbqWIhP-Hxy3eikM4wgyj0JMbypWDeVb7OiQqbO9QvqIe4Po1hH8wTsAFWj5OuSvQPIDghQCI8f2LFQCr6IggBwFpSi/s1600-h/get+lost.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385166929442324882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 60px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDj_QLusVwmsVxWOarzaBmk9u-Rx1VXGEv5zzr2QNCxbvMh86yMlbqWIhP-Hxy3eikM4wgyj0JMbypWDeVb7OiQqbO9QvqIe4Po1hH8wTsAFWj5OuSvQPIDghQCI8f2LFQCr6IggBwFpSi/s400/get+lost.jpg" border="0" /></a>This one is easy. I love road trips with no itinerary. Even better if they are smack in the middle of somewhere I’ve never been before. Extra points if no one speaks English! If you know me, you’ve probably been on such an adventure with me. Wasn’t it fun?! Raise your hand if you were on that hike out in the desert following a wash and then the wash turned into a muddy pit with 20ft tall razor-edged reeds growing on either side and there was no way out and no water and the sun was setting and… Good times, man. Good times.<br /><br />There are lots of different ways to get lost. Sometimes I think it would be fun to pretend to be someone else for a weekend, check into a swanky hotel and sip martinis by the pool in my designer bathing suit. Ha ha. I’ll keep that option open for sure. </p><p>But I still have to put something on my list that fits into this category and think its going to have to be more deeply immersed in a really foreign culture. I would love to go to Africa and live among the <a href="http://www.culturequest.us/maasaitribe/rituals_files/MasaiWomen.jpg">Masai</a>.<br /><br />Hmm. No excuses, right?<br /><br />But to pick something a little closer to home: It would be interesting to travel to the Sinaloa region of Mexico where my grandmother was raised on an American socialist commune. (I can hear all my friends saying “Ah ha. That’s where she gets it!”) Of course, things went downhill for Americans after the Mexican revolution and I’m not sure its any safer today.<br /><br />NO EXCUSES!! That’s what Phil would say. I wonder how Phil’s wife feels about being a single mom for weeks or months at a time while he is out “fulfilling his dreams.”<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385173816832162402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYwOt2OtzeOvbDE2zRIYYIuYgPVKaaZJOm875-rDR-uLavF41FRzhN6a6WIWLe7gEgZ97-a4kUIPayYKGjpsEmull7TVOWJnQzk0f3pB9EwLEKtJ9ZKQKASn4gl6FgNrHl-BDGnsKTMm1/s320/IMG_1289.JPG" border="0" /> </p>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-15923752878828215702009-09-04T14:18:00.000-07:002009-09-04T14:27:34.486-07:00No Opportunity WastedThere really is nothing sadder than an opportunity not taken. As much as I like to think of myself as a “what the heck” kind of gal, I've probably passed up on all kinds of cool experiences for a variety of very lame sounding reasons. As most of us have. Am I right? So anyway, this post title is actually the title of Phil Keoghan’s latest book that inspired me to think of future opportunities that should not be missed. I might even take the steps to make them happen. I would love it if you joined me.<br /><br />By the way, if the name sounds familiar, Phil is the host of TV’s <em>The Amazing Race</em>. And speaking of which, if anyone has been looking for a race partner, please consider me. I will try very hard not to complain out loud, I can eat almost anything (ha ha), I am not afraid to knock down people in a foot race, and I’m good with maps.<br /><br />Back to the book. Once the reader is finished with <a href="http://noopportunitywasted.com/#"><em>No Opportunity Wasted</em></a>, they should have a list of things they want to do in life. I know I did. I was ready to pack a bag and walk out the door! <span style="font-size:78%;">Have I mentioned my constant desire to escape?</span> Well, now I've got a list of experiences not to be missed, lumped into the following categories:<br /><br />Face Your Fears<br />Get Lost<br />Test Your Limits<br />Leaps of Faith<br />Rediscover Childhood<br />Shed Your Inhibitions<br />Break New Ground<br />Aim for the Heart<br /><br />In my next few posts I'm going to brainstorm these goals and explore some of my fears and secret desires. Stay tuned…~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-63251699007962082892009-06-25T13:36:00.000-07:002009-06-25T13:42:35.481-07:00Si, Se Puede!Here in California we celebrate Cesar Chavez Day in March when his birthday rolls around. As a bureaucrat, I get the day off, which really makes me love Cesar even more. So why I am I writing this in June? <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Because I am a procrastinator. Haven’t you figured that out yet?!</span>?</span> Because inspiration does not always hit me square on the head in a timely manner.<br /><br />Anyway, Cesar Chavez grew up in the southwest as a child of migrant workers. After eighth grade he became one himself. In 1962 he formed the National Farm Workers Association and began a life-long fight for farm workers’ rights. Please head over to <a href="http://www.chavezfoundation.org/">http://www.chavezfoundation.org/</a> to learn more about his life and achievements.<br /><br />On the last Cesar Chavez Day I was out enjoying a sunny day to myself, riding the Ciocc from my house all the way to the beach and back. As I pedaled past this mural I immediately thought about how many people are involved in food production/distribution.<br /><br /><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351366989374605170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlPKl9NZoeZ_UDwP2xGWVAxsKTWpi8Y5Bdst12KpPUSd6LMsr1tMxKAcp1gufSShWykabFUMcPUL55fXETGQFLiqYHZPjvNCHGzURQ_9LU2S6BSBzmJHFeeiLh2iRtk13tP8J8f_audD2/s320/public+art2.JPG" border="0" /> <br /><div><em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351366993721018834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIddMWg8ww7ulnEzWXU_tQBKpsnUFs4KxPZu_yqLH6ioD5dlr1_LSf900wsjiQTv3UxrzXfqTTinMrL_PNVz0VFz20pNt7tFIPjaTBo_7GrivDLfU62VA2AWZ-1TruBNDDRGC48V5Ivlao/s320/public+art4.JPG" border="0" />Creating the Feast</em> </div><div>by John Jay Whalen with Jeanne Whalen and Christina Thurston<br /><br />Now that summer is upon us and juicy fruits fill the farmer’s markets, it is as good a time as any for me to think of the hands that pick the food and be thankful for their work. Especially the oddly happy ones wielding carving knives!</div></div></div>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-72191328422293146962009-06-16T12:54:00.000-07:002009-06-16T12:54:00.320-07:00Poem as Lovely as a...I cannot decide if this is ironic or just bad luck but it’s just about the saddest thing I’ve come across in a long time.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346196782385498930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhue9x2Pc2MTdIgwMJ35fN717-tMa8XmZdMpek9KlDL1gPz0C0zBims01iY9_F64a84n_HIZLt_H6TncmfMwwRcrN9vSD963itcU-1GEhxU9LEDvSAn14GerffpqshH_KZBQ0DvevQ_YajP/s320/IMG_1120.JPG" border="0" />~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-74381796401098543202009-06-11T14:18:00.000-07:002009-06-11T15:26:14.247-07:00At a Loss for Words. Or, Here Have Another Bite...Can one get writer’s block without actually being a writer? Hmm. So all the websites say that to rid myself of writer’s block (If that is indeed my problem), I need to just sit down and write. Explore new ideas. Get over myself. So here I am. Writing. What is on my mind? Chocolate is always a safe bet. And now that I think about it, I’ve sort of been exposed to a lot of it lately. You see, it’s birthday season. So there is, of course, cake.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346197623194781842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGy1rvJ9co8sXJbw7LwCaOsrzaFHuhLNZozBIBBuT66yye19m2kxZxOTxLl634ShhIrSMkrIHAULeNXi4bXUSEtvNrZCWeKSoojhC4N4vK9R0ZmDv31IHtOdJKvhbDEB8tXbkGCgDuWyk/s320/IMG_1130.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346197625502911378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MzD34v_ZAbHrZX6PSBU56cRyNOzEN7RxkN6nohh5EpxxOZsDCrRZpzPUrS16GpqBSrDcMbirwLjBY_JfMKn0QNL_YWNoSa5wYgwhW8DW_neFdGTuUptXtZOI8mtYpVMX-2wpKwylxm0l/s320/IMG_1136.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346197608190722770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAytwhmv8mVkffAQvaxyXGmSC9hLrQbfhvJ7nXizPoTi3vNE2LvjsjmtVHDTPaXEtTRZx3gAXsAhFeAeerJ3myPAde6tKcups44glcFP8l6EqSzFjYDI4AcmPo7zQjYYkCVOO3xT-8_HS7/s320/IMG_1124.JPG" border="0" /><br />But also, chocolate in a box<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343992702043339298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 191px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdvNwFgSk1uYN7g8ClwfwtJX2oRrLWPAJngcPxUF6FMVu9Hby6aLOfY5zeSuf_xDNg6sBCu6DPLpKUoqUM0ZxKa005vFI73NsN4LXUBpZwdGq-KMDiuNA9af-SAKR9iZtVzOJohcIpiRj/s320/chocolate1.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div>Chocolate gelahhhhhhto... <div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346197614395376514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQCks_gW8b-OL2PlaM8dBL_mjmKaTjNL_I6F5KYY0O8UpINMGkylIUjuG0eUyORnvHgOlROMr9Hzrs7Hzx1e5M1TmEaaEpCZ43jpZ6FYQaYc4KIsxXl-4A9YlxLkaOCygJcI3AEku2ht0/s320/IMG_1123.JPG" border="0" /><br />And then there is the everyday chocolate stuffed into various hiding places,</div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343992711594042898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNbdBNVgmSQd530ZC76SVJbJkS7kbqyYy0GJnp2aNhOGb7LFGI51GK0eSgIzx8j9AdyM154YKIT_ba0rcje-FPgZoEPZiEjeW82VzpFXIcuPU3yMyOwz7XWK8vwGiLRs0L0hV6CCs1QPCq/s320/snack+shelf+1.JPG" border="0" /><br />And since it is my birthday, a whole afternoon tea centered around chocolate.</div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343994485822427698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAXo-pbO8ro-K8KNJQIg7vnk9IXra_-sImO5IKPdfsR4WTZKnyObqBuZJiGzVBBP0baOd2TxW-fkxcv-N9J_4V_6DRlBF1btm9HoMxt2KE9R8u5EiaDLxGX6bESOAH1WnTgQqLiN8OOySI/s320/eclipse+choco.jpg" border="0" /> Yippee!<br /><br />Through my work as a bureaucrat, I discovered a chocolate store. (How many people can say that about their jobs?)<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343994483294163042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4_sD_GaShETIC7fCUTEDWsQFq_yd4JqYOMsZPTJ8jLRzYRyTw0BYCM79QUWifXgL0OjBT82oce9t7ixPQ-O-AHKQ2snzO-0WH25-aA8yfhVU7WvjvY0uMP4M0FKl7CD6QLUpecYHGr8E/s320/pastry_case.jpg" border="0" />Double yippee!<br /><br />But then I didn’t publish my post because I was thinking things like “but there might be more cake tomorrow” which, somehow, there always is. And the block set in again. But at least I always have chocolate to keep me centered. <div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346197616570285154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEbOgN7G3pERla3BdtPIsEBTb7nItBJK3tmplrsUwJuQ8piNtPJNJNZLkpEocrOBKaRgsJqPj2ABd3l3ikpIcY8RnAmSoR08TWbxGRrjvFnoFH5l61jcijL3up-cB-0WCmDKKFNCxQmBDr/s320/IMG_1126.JPG" border="0" /></div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343992705764064018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBgXnAb2w1cXL5TcwJgdP3BfvhpTgtKXJOyMnTQx2fnZRstPoz_57Ow82ueaMbuTVewLIMeAepv-rVKcVKccqcW0lvw2T8TL1BCPfOWY2bLBxTP49F2CIh4tJjXwlGKfhsWx3ZT_B_onE/s320/brownie!!.jpg" border="0" /></div></div>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-20369871719632075192009-05-11T17:17:00.000-07:002009-06-19T09:23:42.316-07:00Rain, Rain, Gone AwayDid ya hear? No rain or snow in S.Cal again this year. Less snow means less water to drink. Less water means turn the tap off and let the lawn dry up already! So before the City cuts off the water works, I really want to share one of my very favorite fountains.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335341056198856130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7ksPoGJ32e6TqhAZAL9AeKmWetL9xW_WUqqx8bvhfzMZnFEfxpRo-jT4JSeql__KRAw2r39MCAhimw4Q_Y3SCDPfje2K_EJ2UcjoWKPhb1l3ZB4WiUnv0xY6CanI-kwYUMbgMCdUmE_d/s320/bow+wave+1.1.GIF" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335341790805134722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWs8ZJzzVt6QG4B0IbjD3oSCUV1B9ow712pSK4rU66cUYgZnwCsFWbbZSfzlv6Y-JKQCscSBqENC1kkMVu-hmvck-HawbC7yhlqltYRbrcqPr_4DKln0mhLL5bwvD3UK1_AsRJUwRI6HPx/s320/bow+wave+3.1.GIF" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335341798008648386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqRuxgkfz52G5CqZMUrpceE0fWJSMLDDRrLy_P5antzdV8qhZ_qWQpDKKOW7s77ZQbi9RhrzHdhRMghTbst_HaGL38B5-s5MLLFHIuAtsplqxKlGynJ0NolDWrBeBnYrnd7xdzRcUKXeE/s320/bow+wave+2.1.GIF" border="0" /><em>Bow Wave</em> by Malcolm Leland<br /><p>Which makes me ponder: What are you doing in the name of water conservation? </p>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-60999692325105844152009-03-18T09:46:00.000-07:002009-03-18T10:05:29.318-07:00HeroesSeems like everyone is talking about heroes lately. It’s even the project topic of the month in the older dude’s 2nd grade class. So while I’m reading tidbits about astronauts and revolutionary leaders, those who stand up for what they believe in, and those who overcome great physical limitations, I can’t help but think about the heroes in my own life.<br /><br />When I was a kid, my very favorite place in the world to be was at Girl Scout summer camp. I loved being out in the natural world, I loved the independence from anything but the faintest hints of authority, and I loved the craziness the camp counselors brought to the job. Camp counselors were like the coolest big sisters a girl could ever have, the fiercest mama bear a cub could ever have, and the energizer bunny – all rolled into one. And while I had many fantastic wonderful camp counselors over the many fantastic summers I spent at camp, one was instantly my hero.<br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314571564199536898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8R6dKSHY4R5q8pImyzzm2yQRXEz5vO5BJA_IKtfFoJhZYdhiwGTDXE-QkS0iBY0seH_jotXDulKadUtH20d_1dg6ZsTtnyakwDCO_YosMxDDkog8YJWuOdLwnRiW30LSX1fHrHcdnVpoK/s320/Palomino+%26+friends.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>Imagine standing in a sun-drenched dry meadow with 200 of your best camp friends, waiting for the evening’s flag-lowering ceremony to begin. On the far side of the meadow, a plume of dust is being kicked up by several small brown masses. As the brown masses approach, the ground begins to thunder with the pounding of 8 sets of horse hooves riding in pairs toward the flag pole. An awed hush falls on the crowd and the riders slow, then stop just outside the circle of campers. They dismount and perform a silent flag ceremony, carefully folding the flag into the prescribed triangle. They climb back upon their horses and ride, literally, off into the sunset.<br /><br />Except one does not ride off into the sunset right away. One shows off her horsemanship skills by asking her horse to spin on its back heel. Freeze. Turn the other way. Freeze. Rear up on its hind legs. She is a loud confident woman who brought her own horse with her that summer to camp. She is rough. She wears a cowboy hat. And I want to be just like her.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314571476937433410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuCHp3xcsq-dAr4j8axeaBiYvm-K428pl0Pz5nD6ftUKkEUUNFfWWtssIvh2hRnAM9liRFER0v4YMndgBZAOe9lsLnRBi44enP4IorxOD4PftKNz3tmRlqknrYRmSGZZmpTSXn-yS7dBa/s320/Palomino.JPG" border="0" /><br />Over the course of the next few summers, every time I saw her, I was in awe. I couldn’t wait to be old enough to join the wrangler unit. When I finally was, I was overwhelmed by my fear of both the largeness of the horses and her personality. I probably cried a few times but still I did what I had to do to join that club. I faked confidence until I felt it. I learned how to speak in the biggest of voices or with the softest of touches. I learned how to encourage success. I learned how to care for those that depended on me.<br /><br />I don’t know if I would have grown to love horses or if she inspired me to, but I did. I don’t know if I would have grown to become a strong independent woman on my own, but I know she taught me that it was possible. I would love to meet her one more time and thank her for pointing me to the path that became my own.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314574419024978306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6O8Zg9Xj1B8OeFqY1r7nBascl13NRKl4B1BWYP0-9I6YH0gGiN0v05zzfJoQzKfGBaNUqWz7XSsUz0DpFOYQ8qJbqTdy8qF7j2dGFtY4Sefgo4Wh1lzZ1N0zj1PKLLYbUErDm4f3eRPB/s320/Winacka+joy.jpg" border="0" /></p>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-82957400646034138692009-02-28T17:44:00.001-08:002009-02-28T17:54:18.729-08:00Let Them Eat CakeI was going to title this post "Fondant Rocks!!!" but then I was afraid you might think I was making rocks out of fondant and that's not exactly it. This is the cake I made for my five-year-old's birthday in December:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-K_h2CuPrAxzpDO-Kqpu68TNDHEzZ4EZX4Us0ZWEYEIUbmS0SiM6OWr-mo19DTttTzHlRw6_yZ2FF5UTeYlo6mVR56LHPOo8vOpSKXR2dlsrecbeIJkzS9NH5E2pIYTtbpa5MF20KZ7Xt/s1600-h/Ryans+5th+049.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308029547353024754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-K_h2CuPrAxzpDO-Kqpu68TNDHEzZ4EZX4Us0ZWEYEIUbmS0SiM6OWr-mo19DTttTzHlRw6_yZ2FF5UTeYlo6mVR56LHPOo8vOpSKXR2dlsrecbeIJkzS9NH5E2pIYTtbpa5MF20KZ7Xt/s320/Ryans+5th+049.jpg" border="0" /></a> Its a lizard, in case you cannot tell. The cake itself was red so when I cut into it, it looked like, well, you can imagine.<br /><br />This is the cake I made for the elementary school's annual Cake Auction fundraiser. It went for $35, thank-you-very-much!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeEEA1Bb8Phrq6lmxOnTjo32QkE3v-EzWxQrsL6FJGPMSef1XubW8TSZMtW-qMZ_psKqMrul6hurk7WZgkP9QMTXaeQCVrFGtOzAjBFbFLrgfihBhWMysEIw35ZB8akFAN0mx7uUALhaS/s1600-h/feb2009+006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308029348209726466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeEEA1Bb8Phrq6lmxOnTjo32QkE3v-EzWxQrsL6FJGPMSef1XubW8TSZMtW-qMZ_psKqMrul6hurk7WZgkP9QMTXaeQCVrFGtOzAjBFbFLrgfihBhWMysEIw35ZB8akFAN0mx7uUALhaS/s320/feb2009+006.jpg" border="0" /></a> It is actually pb&j flavored and the ants are made out of chocolate. I'm thinkin' next year - turkey on rye.~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-32294188704633059652009-02-16T10:21:00.000-08:002009-02-16T10:22:11.055-08:00WanderlustEvery year or so I get the uncontrollable urge to run away. Once, I went all the way to Europe. It was awesome. Another time I <strong>considered</strong> leaving my premature newborn at the NICU and disappearing into the dark. That was not so awesome.<br /><br />So anyway, here I am, feeling the urge again and since running off to foreign places isn’t really in the budget anymore, the little dudes and I went on vacation in our own front yard.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303458505087306562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC8OgAA46vETft0yam0J0QbSa3p5pzJGTlr8tpV3DvjYA4omBc6XFdAyCmC5th7uSa-htxUAZr3t1y7cGvk_FGCP463c1okXU6YM24K6ZfuSZlhtnU3epJll02nGcPRGPobeOH_vJz2Tg3/s320/train+trip+017.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303458051362380978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiqxC5KyrFGc_ReSuaD3R664vYIZ7qy3E6OH-pOn_jZ5v86gus7OiVZDL_j7FtvXTPj7iZ1xmQ2k1tPud-1nRKjdy6yGhqoPdyjwq3QM_TUEyXIqo5kkp_Ksz5hygp6ggonYS7a74cKySk/s320/train+trip+003.jpg" border="0" /><br />We were like hobos, jumping on and off the trolley.<br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303458278955256082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xdZLXt_84NZEkxCfqdcsyTV02PpqzXsuYWTCY_38hG0BU3RwQWwTkloVfoXWdyqF_04W8ImSjvKH6mtqjTWxoIjCzzSd_8Lo-lDm3XPbmc-pnSZhb73gJGvLSGKuH0tkFd4nbfmSk56C/s320/train+trip+016.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303458961204547682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZzElpl_9CS-ax8_LAhvECz8JjISsvoXXwaWMdvdUIbwrwRIB3VKxP2xkaNTGVCDwz0VT7yPCeE0stN2zly2zXumtJiewXiF90RF7f4UXjsVH58IiNOJ0Q97M6MTbjp3duNBPZ1uIVDnd/s320/train+trip+014.jpg" border="0" /><br />We ate ice cream and sat in the sun. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303457871924139314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprJqeKrjJeGml25I1tPOBjGP79ihzTrk4PF-52pkB66y77U0qH2gdtKAXeV7PN5aF6VCBwuCticJuaokPm1q3l1rxZgfS5m-acVIQnv9bdbJr5jzcuPpWVyyqJu6kk1jPBMeIkOFb-RRZ/s320/train+trip+008.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303457726301720066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqH6jHLwseboY78RgWX3flMY3FD3u6zw-O8rOqlcf-IF0soR1o54IiOxY8_MZYWGCJzpQPzNSk1JvS3NfjJErP1eHPCJv4v59gdMpz4CAB5pmbW3Wr_flO6Nt1m6luEj6d6GSyGG6VuYOn/s320/train+trip+009.jpg" border="0" /><br />We opened our minds to public art. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303458765724132834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5Gy1KPPpOs40vIOf967I0-Lqao0a0c-dZioXSvov-6Jj78xNJtDqyEEA0pRB7ieKpzJADje19mceixoH24oOA0_N_lACDAnwERGBZmmrC2V4me3dnGs3HHHrjRuqvafetPicOPLo_-az/s320/train+trip+006.jpg" border="0" /><em>100 Years, 100 Stones,</em> by Eve Andrée Laramée </p><p align="left">It was awesome.</p>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-38495531971143833402008-12-15T18:17:00.000-08:002008-12-17T14:32:08.127-08:00It’s A Jungle In HereLast weekend, I hired the <a href="http://www.lizardwizardofsandiego.com/page/page/4979986.htm">Lizard Wizard</a> to come to the little dude's 5th birthday party.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnpJdlnEyTJnaA0gDm6uYZc5lEiXHCmR-azB1VcY5UOmqJ6r_ONszxq5zm-wCqCou5zZHPG5kzhvB-GdB7RLBRsdppDXDgljsGOM9mQd9O1NA8LXFJUVvTcHG-E4Y0oSPJDOtEPVLJwss/s1600-h/IMG_0942.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280887692135794978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnpJdlnEyTJnaA0gDm6uYZc5lEiXHCmR-azB1VcY5UOmqJ6r_ONszxq5zm-wCqCou5zZHPG5kzhvB-GdB7RLBRsdppDXDgljsGOM9mQd9O1NA8LXFJUVvTcHG-E4Y0oSPJDOtEPVLJwss/s320/IMG_0942.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p>I have to admit, or maybe brag, it was awesome! The kids and adults loved the show. Pythons big (55 lbs) and small (6wks old), </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280887170874416530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4sl8LlL2mnMRsEZl9FXaCtPv6-zpxZMmIW9KwSOcy_Fz0kV25zG6RxcyphO2tXPX9UZXzbnayPO-s1D0Ubr_y2qHHTheRJ28boSZya2Znnx7RspBzCwXb6wTgqyQlJs1G37Nwe9hClvvD/s320/IMG_0994.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>turtles vs tortoises, </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280887590527143378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQYbSxtGk6M98sJD04WLJjeawN_1Kva8JlxRpUcPbHVtue66sHT70xRtCsLzFdeJDME60yQmyvubYnAdCM0IUiqN8mT6oJhZIhz65-EgyDgieiEWhIzFGZo07AM3CUbr2I-G7NFxrqx_Ry/s320/IMG_0946.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>big iguana, <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnpJdlnEyTJnaA0gDm6uYZc5lEiXHCmR-azB1VcY5UOmqJ6r_ONszxq5zm-wCqCou5zZHPG5kzhvB-GdB7RLBRsdppDXDgljsGOM9mQd9O1NA8LXFJUVvTcHG-E4Y0oSPJDOtEPVLJwss/s1600-h/IMG_0942.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280887692135794978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnpJdlnEyTJnaA0gDm6uYZc5lEiXHCmR-azB1VcY5UOmqJ6r_ONszxq5zm-wCqCou5zZHPG5kzhvB-GdB7RLBRsdppDXDgljsGOM9mQd9O1NA8LXFJUVvTcHG-E4Y0oSPJDOtEPVLJwss/s320/IMG_0942.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p></p><p></p><p><em>frogs jumping everywhere</em>!!</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280887436295186226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn35SDneLgBgSdNbFW7qbhShvEQi9pEXz0UZr8IrAQXvRcPEqnV5XMpsqkXe9yP5xL1vtWPeF1GylAFFsz3H5mO0-k6cI1JQ1MAR8p-p3zf3xs2GmyC8slF_wLswBcSnAhYBPQnrih11yR/s320/IMG_1005.JPG" border="0" /></p>So, this morning LD wakes me up complaining about the frog in his room. I tell him that is great he has such a wonderful imagination. He scowls at me. Then he gets his brother out of his warm comfy bed to see the frog in the living room but when they get there, no frog in sight. Then he screams "look mommy!! on the door behind you!!!" And wouldn't you know, there IS a frog on the door behind me!<br /><br />I call the Lizard Wizard and her assistant guesses that the Wiz is not driving all the way from the next county over for a frog. <strong>Happy Birthday Little Dude</strong>!!<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280886946552430626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDHUczYaEjbi4wR-GXaLSbpIanb6g8mFRLyCxXlkOjCBFs3Lh_7oGNqx48YDmJz4ezifoAkPOTC8GdnIlZipl_S17nzTuMo0LwXmcNHWkuVYtLJWLW-F8Ct_RorbmPSFAZ8VtntMF5pcs/s320/IMG_0955.JPG" border="0" /><br />So right away we dash out to the pet store (and by “dash” I actually mean slog through the rain and heavy traffic) and buy a small amphibian container plus some moss, water dechlorinator, and a sack of LIVE CRICKETS. </p><p>As soon as I moved Kermit into his new and improved home he ate a whole bunch of crickets and curled up under the moss. I’m starting to get attached to the little amphibian. </p><p>Sadly, the Lizard Wizard just called and wants her frog back. We can keep him until she is in the neighborhood again. Maybe Santa will bring us a turtle…<br /></p>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-77942324919316660742008-12-02T16:32:00.000-08:002009-01-06T17:35:19.824-08:00Not Very BossyLike most Americans, I have been thinking very hard about saving money and paying down debt. I thought about it so hard that I even pledged my undying allegiance to <a href="http://www.iambossy.com/poverty-party">Bossy’s Poverty Party</a> – where its all about growing up and getting a handle on one’s finances. On that note, I had the most decadent and delicious girls night out last weekend with a very good friend and fellow working mom. And of course, it wasn’t good enough to just go out for a quick drink and chit chat about the kids, the job, the spouse. No, we decided to go all out and enjoy de<em>ss</em>ert prepared by a real chef paired with a nice wine and a fabulous view.<br /><br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 450px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3080/2539714664_1667e6060b.jpg?v=0" border="0" /><br />We spent several hours just taking it all in and forgetting about the real world and it was <em>such a treat</em>. And sometimes, you just have to treat yourself. If you ever have the inclination and extra cash, check out Mr. A’s on a cool autumn night just as the fog begins to roll in.~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-20377016244221419172008-11-17T15:56:00.000-08:002008-11-17T15:57:41.840-08:00Cool GlobesFirst in what I hope will be a series of posts about public art, Cool Globes is a collection of works by various artists who are committed to finding a solution to global warming. Currently located in and around the plaza in front of the Natural History Museum. From October 15 through November 30, 2008.<br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266771172878438674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwqdslLytJzXwE4YFs-4bFGld-c0_JWrA0Cm4LqVrlGyhBlf1igSuMS9SA-Jw1HKCssWo4ATOY8kFUIEIIY5MlHlP7v3PuWnvbtch1G2g9Vbpf408GuJZjofSbhpaORP6333RmKDQhMkY/s320/IMG_0906.JPG" border="0" /> </p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266770837550518770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5sFO102Wng8t2obSY3iNRpQvlshd3eXtKsUza1HR7ZuRRsyD2Hy5icQvuh-xJBcyQKNUKPvVnCTq_SNNp4dAZ7sameyR3jvf8wnxM__yvF3kZVT9ZTY4OQ8e2T9zwyuFKTQlD2clCSaqg/s320/IMG_0905.JPG" border="0" /><br /></p><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtnlmnzU955LWjna23egoclgqVsMrNaWNXX5gtzfRbe-qUFtjODpcN0C5gzGkUlucrMu0_EqKHbwmOira_pWrx7CFg91k_Tb0Fos16Yig97tCNqrBdSXGv_gOvMcEomxiOmWIga2lx6WLa/s1600-h/IMG_0912.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266772565488246306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtnlmnzU955LWjna23egoclgqVsMrNaWNXX5gtzfRbe-qUFtjODpcN0C5gzGkUlucrMu0_EqKHbwmOira_pWrx7CFg91k_Tb0Fos16Yig97tCNqrBdSXGv_gOvMcEomxiOmWIga2lx6WLa/s320/IMG_0912.JPG" border="0" /></a><em>Mr. Polar Bear Goes to Washington</em>, by Peter Mars.</p><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8oHoFQxBiRSlsVnX6_Q-q5X9m0V3ZA0f_xD5uuxP2vmWLusff_kmNyZyiub27D90_8hlqKJiJkVjfRNgkRom4q42wCEMdq7Jk1E2QuD-szZAkpUL1KVE2cnpaOFOjEaqVo5_oigZZsc3/s1600-h/IMG_0911.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266772361437592258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8oHoFQxBiRSlsVnX6_Q-q5X9m0V3ZA0f_xD5uuxP2vmWLusff_kmNyZyiub27D90_8hlqKJiJkVjfRNgkRom4q42wCEMdq7Jk1E2QuD-szZAkpUL1KVE2cnpaOFOjEaqVo5_oigZZsc3/s320/IMG_0911.JPG" border="0" /></a><em>Plastics, Metals and Cell Phones (OH MY!)</em>, by Faheem Majeed and the Comer Youth Center. </div><br /><div></div><div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGe4OgZxGYWWJ5ZzJTNG-xwXtAEylepqQ4MsgA9vMbCAs-KrlVHaQjAcCmJG0vCv_iez3poc3MYCKXDl42YbjOI2Gfc5WTFgje_u_pyUmC9_5gXZrg3p8Bcwtam4CnSfHF8tKi21ytC-DU/s1600-h/IMG_0909.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266771729187036402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGe4OgZxGYWWJ5ZzJTNG-xwXtAEylepqQ4MsgA9vMbCAs-KrlVHaQjAcCmJG0vCv_iez3poc3MYCKXDl42YbjOI2Gfc5WTFgje_u_pyUmC9_5gXZrg3p8Bcwtam4CnSfHF8tKi21ytC-DU/s320/IMG_0909.JPG" border="0" /></a>left: <em>Tapping Geothermal Resources</em>, by Deirdre Fox<br />center: <em>One Man's Trash... Don't Waste - Instead Create!</em>, by Mitch Levin<br />right: <em>Plastics, Metals and Cell Phones (OH MY!)</em>, by Faheem Majeed and the Comer Youth Center.<br /></div><div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEito_8OhAyQehsPtmkRcj3X49rcXjXYqp8j4_sd59JZi0SdowMI9phZ3cbD1pUaS0sAPjxwpODl9XQ-l_H0Rk9x1-WuYxagAf6DH7ntFySGrGZ6JIJk6J8nZWaEvnEylQEY9DXgfnmALJTS/s1600-h/IMG_0908.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266771458775386706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEito_8OhAyQehsPtmkRcj3X49rcXjXYqp8j4_sd59JZi0SdowMI9phZ3cbD1pUaS0sAPjxwpODl9XQ-l_H0Rk9x1-WuYxagAf6DH7ntFySGrGZ6JIJk6J8nZWaEvnEylQEY9DXgfnmALJTS/s320/IMG_0908.JPG" border="0" /></a> <em>Spin Dry: Drawing a Line on Global Warming</em>, by Thom Cicchelli<br /><br /><div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKam-Co1sxhFMH_ztOLYb02L9d1GerhO0MgmQ-77ZpaQRSkHNX1oLndjBtrn_JlZN3yVoUdi4NrVOnxDsfid9N2cYAqt_Tq3GwSml-d6nLvJG6bPAo7C74ZA58Un5IWYeKSCfHfgs9zje/s1600-h/IMG_0903.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266770510127582322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKam-Co1sxhFMH_ztOLYb02L9d1GerhO0MgmQ-77ZpaQRSkHNX1oLndjBtrn_JlZN3yVoUdi4NrVOnxDsfid9N2cYAqt_Tq3GwSml-d6nLvJG6bPAo7C74ZA58Un5IWYeKSCfHfgs9zje/s320/IMG_0903.JPG" border="0" /></a>in the foreground: <em><a href="http://www.teeniegreenie.org/">Teenie Greenie</a></em>, by Red Moon</div><br /><div><br />For more information, visit the <a href="http://www.coolglobes.org/">Cool Globes </a>traveling exhibition website.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-7603100647334415102008-11-10T09:28:00.000-08:002008-11-10T09:29:34.029-08:00... And MoneyDo you ever think back to when you were in college, oh, so long ago, and wonder how you survived on $9/hour jobs? I do. All the time. How is it possible that I had money for fancy sushi dinners, horseback riding lessons, and dance cruises then when I make more than three times that amount now and can't seem to scrape together $85 for a gorgeous pair of shoes?<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266769995270484290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwTfaLQDkn7lrlkaix4jSydcBy2zdxpdrs46P4zEKS7TQNImQN3WiAUcxNRGcBs4DBYd4o0_u5nCGStPoatI-F9XAaBLJ8ou3Wyr5k3QIvnIkyg0FjV6vbNN5ynz5-14AL93qcN1_-tNsr/s320/IMG_0913.JPG" border="0" /><br />Okay, maybe shoes aren't the best example. But you know what I mean, right?<br /><br />So I’ve decided to follow <a href="http://www.iambossy.com/daily-poverty-party/2008/09/19/the-daily-poverty-post/">IAmBossy</a>’s journey into debt realization & management and hopefully have a more happily frugal outlook on life and finances – soon.<br /><br />Lately I’ve eliminated the daily trip to the coffee shop ($2/day) and made an effort to make a lunch for work rather than order out ($5/day). There’s upwards of $150/month right there! That’s a pair of really awesome shoes! I mean, Gymnastics classes for both the little dudes! Actually what I mean is: Pay off my student loan once and for all. Debt realization man, it’s a buzz-kill.<br /><br />And then there are the things I know I shouldn’t spend money on but still do. Like my weekly diet coke and rum with coworkers on Friday afternoons ($20/month) or my crazy Weight Watchers membership ($16.95/month). Wait, I think there is a connection between those two… I could stop shopping at Amazon.com except for that would mean I would have to go to the library and that would mean paying all my over-due fines, which are a bit substantial. Just being honest here.<br /><br />I’m sure I’ll come up with more ways to save more and spend less. Feel free to share your best and worst tips with me - I would love to hear them.~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-64491891528047100342008-11-04T19:55:00.000-08:002008-11-05T11:08:38.904-08:00Time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt2AM_W0xkkkXJD7wdKKa6Yh7Ed4lAN3hua6IXJ4r1V8h2Gukl2-PzigKSnshw1RZUSSw9EvpR2UtIG6NCZ6J0NDEMVupq2rKGcBpKrv3RABoPP-oIp0OcAFyFIH2tiInyZUDsDRTv1PYd/s1600-h/makeminuteking.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265251927452656562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 223px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt2AM_W0xkkkXJD7wdKKa6Yh7Ed4lAN3hua6IXJ4r1V8h2Gukl2-PzigKSnshw1RZUSSw9EvpR2UtIG6NCZ6J0NDEMVupq2rKGcBpKrv3RABoPP-oIp0OcAFyFIH2tiInyZUDsDRTv1PYd/s320/makeminuteking.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I’m at the point now where if one more person tells me how fulfilled my life would be if I just spent five minutes to better myself – I might explode.<br /><br />A quick search online or flip through a women’s magazine reveals five minute whole body <a href="http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art29420.asp">exercise routines</a> or I could focus on <a href="http://www.fitnessmagazine.com/workout/butt/exercises/5-minute-brazilian-butt-workout/">lifting my butt, Brazilian style</a>. Carmindy, from <em>What Not To Wear</em>, advocates for the <a href="http://www.carmindy.com/books/">five minute face</a>. In theory, five minutes of <a href="http://www.essortment.com/all/meditationexerc_rwom.htm">meditation</a> will quiet my soul. The smarty-pants in me wonders if it quiets kids too. Without getting up from my office chair I could simply <a href="http://portal-live.solent.ac.uk/services/counselling/fiveminuterelaxation.aspx">relax</a>, <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_2151292_write-poem-five-minutes.html">write a poem</a>, become a better <a href="http://www.5minutelearningmachine.com/">learner</a>, or even tone and tighten my <a href="http://www.ikegelpro.com/">nether regions </a>!<br /><br />With very little effort I really should try harder to <a href="http://almostfrugal.com/2008/10/08/got-five-minutes-thirteen-five-minute-tools-to-help-you-save-money/">save money</a>, eat a better <a href="http://www.betterhealthandliving.com/articles/5_minute_breakfasts/">breakfast</a>, log my <a href="http://support.dietpower.com/diet/log_your_meals_in_5_minutes_a_day.htm">meals</a>, log my migraines, read to my kids, <a href="http://www.pluswhite.com/whiteners.shtml">whiten my teeth</a>, pet a cat (there is always one handy around here!), send a postcard to a friend, and once in a while look out the window…<br /><br />As if I am somehow not whole because I don’t spend a measly FIVE MINUTES on myself. How do I expect others to love me if I don’t love myself?!?<br />Okay Stop! I’m going to throw up.<br /><br />The trouble with these little tidbits is that they appear harmless. How can I argue with taking such a small portion of my day to make a small change? Sure, they all sound like steps on the path of enlightenment. But when you add up all the steps they total over an hour every day and that, I do not have. So for now I’m going to stay flabby, poorly nourished, uninformed and out of touch. I will, however, pet the cats a little more often.<br /><br />Well, I’ve got about five minutes to get to the polls and vote so I’m outta here!</div>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7079365227496776152.post-24498330091652282922008-11-02T19:00:00.000-08:002008-11-03T14:59:25.070-08:00Alter Egos Abound<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0kidX19CmVP1ca_qpcWN9lJV2Er9A0E69rJOJRPjhaJi35d0MzB9AzoPVAKkO8_n38AQCSxsTHKvV6CmfpWyqseMq34oCOUxjtEueRJNcZzWOj0nfzjqNR8udkqyEDJxSA9nCy4vVWIa/s1600-h/halloween2008+010.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264259035950485986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0kidX19CmVP1ca_qpcWN9lJV2Er9A0E69rJOJRPjhaJi35d0MzB9AzoPVAKkO8_n38AQCSxsTHKvV6CmfpWyqseMq34oCOUxjtEueRJNcZzWOj0nfzjqNR8udkqyEDJxSA9nCy4vVWIa/s320/halloween2008+010.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div>This year the kids told me they wanted to be ghosts for Halloween, again. “No way!” said I. I need more to work with than a plain white sheet. So we went online and dug around a little and came up with a few other options. </div><div><br />Can you guess what this is going to be?<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262634380978180658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqlrU9Ns0apB0gTpN8KJxwvQQUsDyVWZ3fzWY_X7JjPtqN3wdBVdiqDmJ94Iv0tfgPxAMirth_55_UieQsIO6ob-vtWX3MgwAd1gb5CNDNoQlJa_m5t3zSeraGWTGMDHwPP980dvrFLhRn/s320/IMG_0846%5B1%5D" border="0" /><br />How ‘bout now?<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262634171151753970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjoNG1rEK5Ai42mLTe8pHBUDtt7pcKP-1bQf4cCE0L5silpX4iNX15PRqNy7aoXA-cgJUkn3Dlo2LgBHUUygOfpNizeRsumMrlfelFaiAETVf7BkFJlazq7yMxbdbhIQC4CdEVSpsGWTX4/s320/IMG_0847%5B1%5D" border="0" /><br />Born from ancient Celtic traditions, Halloween is a time to ward off evil spirits, mark the end of summer, tell fortunes, and acknowledge the dead. Through time and immigration, it has become the grand community activity that we love today. Nothing brings out community spirit more than the trust of neighbors opening their doors to any old punk willing to yell "trick or treat!" And lets not even talk about the trust parents must adopt in order to let our kids eat candy from stranger. <em>Candy from strangers, people!</em> Isn't that one of the top ten dangers?? <br /><br />Of course, kids and adults alike obviously love the opportunity to just let out their inner-selves, be something wild, live dangerously, even if for just one night. Which leads me to my little adventure dude. The one with the serious alter-ego. The one that can be a snuggle-bunny one minute and a bravehearted battlemaster the next. I guess that comes from being the last child and second son. So when he said “pirate!!” I was totally on board. We already have most of the extras, he just needed pants and boots.<br /><br />Pants. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262634632751306418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTfBUuz6yLScrr6pBbfFgHlyBe971c1BMzbU0FbztKto9Wai113WQA2Hpetu45F-mVdOPWrGt8Eq45oi6E6QeYntl5W3Gia_x0dvI_O6L5PYihZNLMrXW9fhgV06zwCzeX51GGYxuw3Mc/s320/IMG_0845%5B1%5D" border="0" /><br />And boots. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262634835283222610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtN2QsO9ANVT_T7fstNd0hunMVOGzlSj-XDmy_do33QPh41SyTh4wHwawMAYsTNil3C7gdiw7ab9Uqfjyju7femfV-UBw62HLqXi1x13EX8wZ5bYrtZOEE8DdPh3Al3Dyo7lGf8gEa9JIV/s320/IMG_0843%5B1%5D" border="0" /><br />Done! </div><div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264258843095188514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1K2CRLfsjcqb0pFNaXI8BjD8nC63pAoomYIE7s_oRP8OWQXdddiKPIM4uQVK9Sl8NCCk7GVJOo0D2c68XWNXbGXa1IPQMtfjkFAY-A7kWZMQL_gVLwLLDHn5eBxJXU9BBs8UPymTzmVnE/s320/halloween2008+002.jpg" border="0" /><br />Did you guess that the big dude chose race car driver? Because that’s what he is all about. Speed, man. Speed. It makes him zippy on the soccer field but a bit manic in the classroom. Oh well, we all have alter-egos to deal with and most of us are still able to function out in the big bad world. Thank goodness for Halloween when we can express ourselves a little bit. What inner-personality did you let out this year? </div></div>~Alissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10029661451372100544noreply@blogger.com3