tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24852359019833777962024-03-18T20:25:07.569-07:00Musings From the Campfire...The best, often most insightful, and heartfelt conversations seem to take place around a campfire, or on a front porch. Come sit, relax, reflect and enjoy. Welcome to the campfire!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-5811672459361261772013-05-20T20:42:00.000-07:002013-05-20T20:44:51.051-07:00<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Savor the Moment</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Deal with it folks! Truth be known, I get teary at a good Mc Donalds commercial. So, it would only seem fit that my emotions would run high during graduation season. I don't bawl and wail, I do my best to keep it on the D Low, but lately I find myself tearing up quite a bit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yesterday my oldest son went off to his senior prom. I let him skip school today and I called in for him. What can I say? I'm a rebel! (Whoda thought when I was doing my best to cultivate my "Punk/Mod" look while I was in High School, that 25 years later "rebel" would mean calling in absent for my kid!) And of course, since Morgan wasn't around to drive Brenden to school, <i>naturally</i>, Brenden got the day off as well. (What? I was sleeping in!!!) It was good to have a mental health day. May is the calm before the storm. Once June hits, all hell brakes loose! Work is nonstop, prep for grad party, family in from outta town, ceremonies and parties! I've been forced to be still this month due to a surgery. So while I usually work on Monday nights, I got to enjoy dinner with my family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Dinner with the family was more frequent when the boys were younger. Now, everyone seems to run on a different schedule. More often than not, when I am home for dinner, I find that it's just me and my husband. The quiet is strange. Not bad, just different, and I know that we are a family in the midst of transition. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm not going to be one of those mothers who clings, while her children are trying to spread their wings. I want them to spread their wings. I want them to be independent. I want them to be confident. I want them to be self sufficient. But when they do find themselves challenged, I also want them to come to me for advice. I want them to save some time for me, even in the midst of their busy lives. I've been successful so far. I like my kids. I enjoy spending time with them! I like the adults they are becoming. I think my husband and I have done a good job! Yeah, mistakes along the way, but overall, a good job. Besides, mistakes are good fodder for blog entries!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Tonight was one of those nights when we fell into a natural rhythm. Nothing special. We grilled. We Had the I pod dock in the window and Pandora playing country. Everyone lingered around the table. There was a song request which forced us to resort to You Tube. We took turns in rotation playing each of our favorites. Conversation was relaxed and lively. Nobody rushed to go in, nobody had to be anywhere. And I savored every moment! When the day comes that they are not so available to me, I'll miss it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I expect there will be more tears shed in the coming month. On a positive note, I probably won't have a lot of time to sit and let my thoughts linger! No tears shed tonight, however. Tonight I simply enjoyed the evening for what it was...and savored it! </span>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-66812812507634893772013-05-15T11:04:00.001-07:002013-05-15T11:13:41.947-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Soul Food</span></h2>
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Summer is coming, and of course my mind wanders north of the 45th parallel. Soul food! That's where my head is. No, not catfish! Not that kind of soul food. The kind that nourishes, and refreshes your spirit! Where exactly north of the 45th am I? Cheboygan, Michigan. Cheyboygan is the "Big City", if you ever find yourself in the "Tip of the Mitt". But for those of us who are trapped in suburban sprawl, it's a small town getaway. </div>
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Along Main Street is a bookstore. It doesn't have a Starbucks in it. It's not home to a children's section with a jungle gym and puppet theater. If they don't have a book, they can't check stock online to see if the store in Petosky has a copy, because there is no store in Petosky! It's small, and independently owned. What is <i>does</i> have are creaky old floors and bookshelves assembled in a garage or basement. It has tin ceilings painted white, and a clerk behind the counter who can tell a townie from a snowbird or tourist. Whenever I am out of town I try to pick up a book on the history of the area, or the novel of a local author. I'll putz around for an hour or so, people watching, and browsing the shelves. But I've only whet my appetite. I'm still hungry! </div>
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I cross the street (jaywalk!) and head down a couple of blocks to the local ice cream shop. Wire chairs with hearts covered in red vinyl on the back are arranged around tables. The theme is pink and white throughout. Waiting behind a weary family who has just come in from a day on the boat gives me time to contemplate my choices. Superman? No, I had that last time. Traverse City Cherry? Naw! Too sweet. Beartracks!!! I'm up north, I should get Beartracks! I finally decide on an old standby, Mint Chocolate Chip. You can never go wrong with Mint Chocolate Chip! If I'm with the rest of my family, I'll take a taste of everyone's cone just to confirm my choice. Yes. I had made the right decision! My soul is grinning!!</div>
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I head back out and cross the street. My destination? A bench on the edge of the river. Book in hand. Ice cream cone dripping down my chin, (I knew I should have grabbed a few more napkins) I find an open bench in the late afternoon sun of a July afternoon. I plant myself, taking in the sights and sounds of boaters coming in after a day out on Lake Huron. I wave. They wave. I take my flip flops off so that I can feel the cool grass beneath my feet. The sound of the water lapping against the dock mixes with the distant sounds of traffic on Main. My appetite has been satisfied! <i>This,</i> my friends, is soul food!</div>
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Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-53624964813923605172013-05-14T12:10:00.000-07:002013-05-15T11:07:14.170-07:00<h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here I am again. </span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's been a while. I haven't wanted to get on here, until now. I've been on a journey of sorts (Without trying to sound all philosophical). It's been a very personal journey of self discovery. If I were to look back, I think I may have begun my journey when I started this blog. I started this for me, nobody else. It was meant to be cathartic. What I've been dealing with has been too personal, to intense to share here. But I'm back. And in control of my life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, let's catch up, shall we? Where has my journey taken me? Well, I've made some changes. Positive changes. I've lost 100 lbs. I've made a lifestyle change to a paleo diet. (a work in progress) I used to hate the gym! I've grown to love it. It has been a constant in a battle against depression. A time solely for me and for me alone. Therapy!</span><br />
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I've been told what I'm experiencing is a "Mid Life Crisis". My well meaning girlfriend suggested I was hormonal and pre-menopausal! I suppressed the urge to slap her!! Whatever you want to call it, I'm trying to figure out who I want to be when I grow up. My kids are on the launching pad, and my role is changing. I've been stagnant and refuse to remain so any longer. I have a finite amount of time on this earth and I want to get everything I can out of it! I want to live life!</span><br />
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I started this journey alone. Very alone. I have company now! I am writing this not just for me, (as it may seem more of a journal entry) but to encourage. I was recently asked what the most courageous thing I had ever done. Well, I'd never rescued anyone from a burning building. I'd never parachuted out of a plane (and I NEVER will!!!) The most courageous thing I have ever done is to change, and that was scary!! I saw things I didn't like about me, or my life, and I went about changing them. The best thing is, Mark decided to make changes as well. And that is what I was missing most. Some company! </span><br />
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Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-79313374683618695942011-11-22T20:41:00.000-08:002011-11-22T20:52:13.066-08:00Deer Camp Review Deer camp comes at just the right time. An escape to the quiet of the north woods right before the chaos of the holiday season. This past week was most relaxing! Many don't understand why I enjoy deer camp as much as I do. Following is my list of top ten reasons...<br />
10. This really should be #1, but it's the first thing I thought of, SLEEPING IN! Sure, I set the alarm for 5:15 a.m. Yes, I cook a big breakfast of pancakes and bacon. I line up thermos' and fill them with coffee and hot chocolate. Then I shoo them out of the camper before dawn breaks! And I sleep...for another four hours!!!<br />
9. I have total control of the stereo!<br />
8. I don't HAVE to be anywhere. My time is mine and mine alone! It's very freeing.<br />
7. I started <em>and</em> finished a book!<br />
6. Text messages from the blind. These seem to be sent for no other reason than my amusement. Mark texted that he was out of coffee. lol!!! Silly hunters! This isn't Starbucks!!<br />
5. I act on impulse! If I feel the urge to go into town, I go! Had lots of fun when I stopped in at the local township museum to help with the Christmas decorations!<br />
4. It's quiet up there!! I hear the wind in the pines. I hear the lake lap against the shore. I <em>don't </em>hear the freeway that is blocks away from my front door back in the city!<br />
3. An afternoon campfire! I love the smell of woodsmoke. This is a good time to ponder the days events. And who knows?! Someone is always stopping by. I usually end up with a visitor. <br />
2. By the afternoon fire, some hot chocolate with Dr. Migillicuddy's peppermint schnapps. (strictly for medicinal purposes!) <br />
1. When my crew comes home!!!! After a quiet day, I rejoice in the noise and commotion of having all of my boys back from their blinds. Love to hear their stories of the day. Feed them dinner and settle in for a movie! Pasties, pie, hot coco. I get to warm them up and take care of them. Lots of guys go off to camp to escape their family, mine makes it <em>all </em> about family, and I get to go too!!<br />
Seriously, what's not to love about deer camp?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGM6ZVhATFjJHW8D_88vb26kMA4G5QkxC17uRFUmtaELJhjc0z4Foc0UjNn4OkOiD5sIj5FKyWrIOPXRatelL6JPrnmPf-OWwEjJMWv9QNRNhBW-FZcxGVlwS-ZLqvzh4KfLDJMd777I4/s1600/deer+camp+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGM6ZVhATFjJHW8D_88vb26kMA4G5QkxC17uRFUmtaELJhjc0z4Foc0UjNn4OkOiD5sIj5FKyWrIOPXRatelL6JPrnmPf-OWwEjJMWv9QNRNhBW-FZcxGVlwS-ZLqvzh4KfLDJMd777I4/s320/deer+camp+2011.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-40177240146713074262011-11-05T18:53:00.000-07:002011-11-05T19:09:19.774-07:00PLEASE! Be Patient with the Clown. I need an outlet to grumble a bit. Bear with me. In my professional life, I work with children. I love what I do!! Kids, (without the interference of adults) are for the most part, very well behaved. However, many times when you witness the occasional temper tantrum, it all makes sense after you meet the parents. In fact, the parents are usually more poorly behaved than the children!<br />
Let me give a "hypothetical". Say for instance I was clowning and making balloons for a line of children waiting for Santa. The venue is paying me to make balloons ONLY for the line of children. The premise being that this would help time pass in the excruciatingly long line for Santa. I <strike>had been given</strike> probably would have been given instructions to keep the line within the roped off area so as to not create a fire hazard and block isle ways. To make a balloon for EVERYONE that walked up would be CHAOS!!! <strike>As it was</strike> I can imagine it would be difficult just to keep up with the line of kids waiting to see Santa, never mind every shopper who sauntered on up. I'm sure Santa is very efficient in moving through the line and a clown would really have to hustle! <br />
Imagine then, that a father walks up requesting a balloon for little Susie. Little Susie is afraid of Santa and the family has chosen to not wait in line. There is probably a line a mile long, looking at me expectantly, waiting for a balloon, and annoyed with the dad who walked right up...cutting in front of them (on my side of the fore mentioned roped off area). I'm sure I would have gently explained that I am there to make balloons only for those in line (upon the instruction of those paying for my services), and I would have apologized, as I did to the previous 10 people who walked up and asked the same question within the last 1/2 hour. Imagine if the parent in question became angry, and complained that the venue ought to provide entertainment for those afraid to see Santa. This I would find surprising because, for one, events like these DO provide other entertainment! Like say...fireworks, bell ringers, carolers, free cookies, just to give a few examples. And two, this is a <strong>free</strong> event that someone else is footing the bill for!! <em>Those throwing the bash don't owe you anything! Be grateful for the <strong>free</strong> entertainment you've had the privilege of partaking in!!!!! </em>It amazes me how prevalent the entitlement mindset is throughout our society!<br />
I do this for a living, and for the most part, I LOVE what I do. However, it is still my job. I'm not a volunteer. I'm not a pretend character. I didn't come out of the womb with clown makeup on. I'm a real person, with a family, bills, a schedule, and other events I need to get to in a timely manner. So it always amazes me when I've cut off a line for face paint or balloons, (my weekends are always double or triple booked and often I have an hour drive from one event to the next) and I get a parent that says "Can't you do one more? He's crying!" I'm a parent. My kids have cried for things. It's good when they don't get what they want all the time. That's life. It's not the first time they've cried and it won't be the last. Hello! Life lesson!! It shows no respect for my time, or for that of the children who are waiting for me at the next event. Now, I know the sun rises and sets on your little Johnny, but (and I know it may come as a shock) they aren't the only kids in the world! <br />
Or then there is the parent who wants you do do just one more based on who they are. Ahhh, so I should tell the other ten kids I just turned away that they don't get face paint because their daddy/mommy isn't as important as you! Nice.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkpnXk15QblobrwmOl_0fP4wzuKYlnq7qI2Kjrlx1ruJIHFBcw6n0Cgd9gYsVSoVLdyif8Tff-_yNLjTlN0YEOO68F3OlCkDZrZ4GhHCen_WU2jDA-m-cUM4voQOpmAlcny2UFTCWe2A/s1600/whining.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkpnXk15QblobrwmOl_0fP4wzuKYlnq7qI2Kjrlx1ruJIHFBcw6n0Cgd9gYsVSoVLdyif8Tff-_yNLjTlN0YEOO68F3OlCkDZrZ4GhHCen_WU2jDA-m-cUM4voQOpmAlcny2UFTCWe2A/s320/whining.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> Okay guys, forgive me. I like to keep it pretty upbeat and fun around here. Thanks for letting me vent to you today. I really do feel much better! I promise the next post will be much more positive. The Holiday season is upon us, and we're all in it together. Hold the door open for someone while Christmas shopping. Give a warm smile to the cashier. And be patient with the clown!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-53002795746276011732011-09-27T16:22:00.000-07:002011-09-27T18:49:32.945-07:00It's All in My Head! I feel good today!! I feel motivated! I have to keep the feeling going. I admit, diet and exercise is a totally MENTAL thing for me. I don't just mean, it's all in my head, I mean I can be mental about it. So, I've hired a personal trainer/therapist/body image consultant. (my title, not his) I told him he should use that title in promotional material...seriously, I think it will help!<br />
I met him at the gym last night. He asked how I was doing. I said I've been wavering between embarrassment and self loathing! The guy behind the desk chimes in with "It's a 'judgement free zone!'" This farcical, plastic, happy crap can be a bit annoying! I'm totally in favor of encouragement, <em>however </em>sometimes you need a little push, or a swift kick in the ...Mind you, this is the gym that keeps tootsie rolls on the counter...um...why??? <br />
Anyway, it was a good workout last night. I'm not Catholic, but I can imagine it's like going to a confessional! A virtual stranger to whom I confess my deepest, frosted, triple chocolate sins. I told him I share as much with him as I do my hairstylist. And for that I get motivated! I am absolved. And I am encouraged. That's what I need! The accountability. It's gotten so I don't want to embarrass myself by not meeting my weekly goals. I've always been a pleaser. Now I want to please the trainer! It really is worth the twenty five bucks! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd try anythi....almost anything!!! lol!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Today, feeding off the positive vibes of the night before I started a journal and hit the gym!!! (He told me he was proud of me!) Journal, complete with the ugly pics, (the ones that really look like you but you don't post on facebook) and the cute pics of me, the ones from twenty years ago... to motivate! It's like telling myself, "Remember? You can look good!" Yup...it's all my head.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-89390859328882706412011-09-25T19:16:00.000-07:002011-09-25T19:22:39.101-07:00There YOU are! I think God has been trying to teach me something. Naw, I know he's been teaching me something. Humility is a theme that keeps popping up again and again! It's the character trait I admire most. A product of humility is putting others first. I'm not talking "Martyrdom" here. And I'm sure not saying that when you do put someone else first, that you should go around looking for a medal! But when you put others first, blessings come right back atcha!<br />
To be able to put someone else first, you must recognize it's not all about you! I once read an article about Tim Tebow. A homeschool kid that played football (for the Florida Gators), so I naturally took an interest in him. The article stated that his parents never let him read a newspaper article about himself. He was praise worthy, a Heisman winner. But they didn't want him to get too full of himself. I liked that. Okay, if you make the paper, it is kinda fun! But I get where they were coming from. He was getting a lot of attention, and they wanted to keep him grounded. Words of praise have much more impact when they come out of someone else's mouth, not your own. That's humility. It's a struggle. We naturally want to think about #1!! Call it self preservation.<br />
Thinking about someone else doesn't mean you have to go without three squares, or forgo paying the rent. No. Fulfill your responsibilities! What is does mean is that you should realize, it's not all about you! There is always someone who has it worse off. I was mulling things over with a friend who suffers from depression. She told me what she has come to learn is that when she helps someone else, she feels better about her own situation. Have you worked at a soup kitchen? Have you ever given school supplies out in a low income neighborhood? Participated in a fundraiser for a sick friend or family member? How did you feel after? I know how I feel. I feel good! I feel like I've accomplished something! It can be a small thing like clearing your schedule for the afternoon to sit with a friend in a hospital room. You may not have any idea of the impact it had on the other person, but I guarantee it did. The blessing comes when someone says, "Thank you! (with tears in their eyes) It means so much to me to know how much you care!" Because really, what else matters? All any of us want is to know that someone else cares about us. So show someone!<br />
Let me close with sharing the story of a friend of mine. My friends daughter, Bryce has Neurofibromatosis (nf1). She has a large plexiform type neurofibroma in her right thigh and abdomen. (In layman's terms, she has a HUGE tumor on her upper thigh!) She has been dealing with chronic pain for over five years. On September 21 she had this large mass debulked in Chicago at Children's Memorial Hospital. The surgery was risky and took all day. The surgeon, Dr. Mckay Mckinnon is experienced in removing these tumors with great success at reducing pain and them not growing back. No surgeons in Michigan wanted to attempt the surgery saying it is too risky that these tumors bleed a lot during surgery and she may lose the use of her right leg. Brenda battled insurance companies, and many times we would have long conversations where she had some serious questions for God. Everyday life seemed to be a struggle, and Bryce needed constant attention. The chronic pain kept her from attending school. If anyone had reason to fall victim to a pity party, it was Brenda! But she didn't. Oh sure, she had her moments. She needed a shoulder, a prayer, someone to go out to coffee with and listen. But if one of her friends needed something, she'd be there! She'd be the first to offer to help me clean my house. She came over and painted my living room with me. She'd always make sure to ask about how my family was doing. She's supportive of her friends. And in doing so, she reflects Christ. She is humble and other oriented.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhYGjf4pTXHc5yfCUus_wyoNWPqgAWyswfZSPhackeNzwEF6H7LxiL1A6iDKjEaWDpYZiObdzThShAxO_EnLLJEciJk4QZo__KwSRwFooMlJbOmhXUig22pmNCo-FtMt_i2O40yDdeSk/s1600/Brenda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhYGjf4pTXHc5yfCUus_wyoNWPqgAWyswfZSPhackeNzwEF6H7LxiL1A6iDKjEaWDpYZiObdzThShAxO_EnLLJEciJk4QZo__KwSRwFooMlJbOmhXUig22pmNCo-FtMt_i2O40yDdeSk/s320/Brenda.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dear friend Brenda!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Bryce has another week to go in Chicago before she can return home. I rejoice with them. I've seen their struggle up close. I look forward to meeting the new Bryce! Unencumbered by a 9 pound tumor, and living the life of a "normal" teenager. And I am thankful for a friend who is humble, selfless and an example of what it means to be "other oriented". Love you Brenda!!!!<br />
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"Tell me how much you know of the sufferings of your fellowmen and I will tell you how much you have loved them." - Helmut ThielickeTracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-78687094936984027752011-09-21T17:37:00.000-07:002011-09-21T17:37:59.882-07:00Fall Comfort Food!My kids will be sooo happy! I thought I had lost this recipe, and found it in an old message I had sent to my brother in law. Happy day!! This is such a good, quick, fall favorite around here. <br />
*HIGH CARB ALERT!!!<br />
<br />
1/4 c. onion chopped<br />
1/3 c. green pepper chopped<br />
1/4 c. butter, melted <br />
1 T. flour<br />
3 1/2 c. milk<br />
2 c. cooked ham, cubed<br />
8 oz pkg ww elbow macaroni, uncooked<br />
1 c. sour cream<br />
1 c. shredded swiss cheese<br />
<br />
Saute onion and green pepper in butter until tender; stir in flour and salt. Gradually whisk in milk; add ham and macaroni. Bring mixture to a boil stirring constantly; reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes. Mix in sour cream and cheese; stir until cheese melts, but do not let boil. Makes 6 servings.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyK-6Xff_dHnCQzYjlnfr3nbq9wwNev1CO6k-a2T8dp4Kl9Rwp7KO4SkKJXBxzB03MF8xE_SVPdmYVvg-TlFWI9gsQhM2ZkwlQfYuutoQOALkxVLPl6i1ZuEBzTOiq-BdCI6Ft_8k0VA/s1600/carbs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyK-6Xff_dHnCQzYjlnfr3nbq9wwNev1CO6k-a2T8dp4Kl9Rwp7KO4SkKJXBxzB03MF8xE_SVPdmYVvg-TlFWI9gsQhM2ZkwlQfYuutoQOALkxVLPl6i1ZuEBzTOiq-BdCI6Ft_8k0VA/s320/carbs.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Now, go walk the dog and work it off!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-17786558968096962352011-09-11T19:37:00.000-07:002011-09-11T19:48:16.144-07:009/11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1LWKECrXC6U_UVEM368KoNtai7shpw4HGFhZl3Q-buC02ukZLzEmUTaabkCy7B0p83b_RhsSLdfuiiVrpx0Scnnnu2OFV56ZSVe2hbS9yW9TktJBaDu-Y6l6RsWQfHlmDzJVu6mBBg4/s1600/ground+zero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1LWKECrXC6U_UVEM368KoNtai7shpw4HGFhZl3Q-buC02ukZLzEmUTaabkCy7B0p83b_RhsSLdfuiiVrpx0Scnnnu2OFV56ZSVe2hbS9yW9TktJBaDu-Y6l6RsWQfHlmDzJVu6mBBg4/s1600/ground+zero.jpg" /></a></div> Like everyone else, I remember exactly where I was on September 11, 2011. Okay, I'll tell you, it's the thing to do. We had just gotten back from a camping trip up north the previous day. I had 3 little ones at home and was getting ready for the day...breakfast, laundry, etc. Mark came home to tell me to turn on the T.V. We were having the same bright sunny weather that N.Y. was having. I spent the rest of the day glued to the T.V. The following days, I spent with all of you. My friends and neighbors, as we came together to comfort each other. <br />
I was feeling very dark yesterday and earlier today. I feel like where we are today, our economy, our government, are all ripple effects of that day 10 years ago. There is nothing I can say about that day that hasn't been said. We have a lot of work to do. I want to leave the American dream for my kids. <br />
But I feel better now than I did yesterday. Maybe its the song. Music always plays with my emotions. Maybe it's determination. I definitely can't give up believing in this country. When it comes right down to it, most of us, left or right, are good people who care about each other. God Bless.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-30808469100126362842011-09-07T20:31:00.000-07:002011-09-07T20:55:47.423-07:00Boys of Fall It's soo sweet. And it's something that I observe as somwhat of an outsider. My husband has a bond with my sons, and that bond is football. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge encourager! I love watching my boys play! And I can ring a cow bell with the best of 'em! But, I can't give you my opinion on the single wing offense, and I can't tell you the difference between a half back and a full back.<br />
My husband played in High School. He went to the state championship game...and lost. He was too short to play college ball, and ended up serving in the military after High School. I attended one football game in HS. I think I left before half time.<br />
My introduction to football began when M. was eight, playing on the local Jr. league team. I know some mothers hesitate to start their boys in tackle football at a young age, but I wasn't. There really wasn't any stopping them! They wanted it, and it was something they shared with their dad. I never worried about injuries. Life happens. And I want them to live life. I trust my husband's expertise in the matter of raising boys.<br />
M. shares his dads passion. Oh, his first year of football! They lost more than they won, and every losing game, I'd watch for that little eight year old frame to trudge off the field. I know him by his walk. Tears streaming down his mud stained face, head hanging. He gave every bit of himself in every game he played! Physically and emotionally! He was driven. He was homeschooled at the time and even back then, he would wear his game jersey to our homeschool co op. He was proud!<br />
During M.'s last year of Jr. league, he outgrew his age! There wasn't an ounce of fat on him and he was trying to drop weight. The league we were with had a weight limit. M. was unable to lose the weight he needed, and so, was unable to play. That was their winning year. He stood on the sidelines every game, and helped his dad coach his littlest brother's team. The boys he had played with for the last six years, his brother included, were going to the championship game...without him. That's one game I will never forget. The kids were so excited, they were playing under the lights at the high school! I sat in the stands with him, and as the clock wound down, and we knew we were going to win, it was a frenzy of conflicting emotions! B. was on the team, and I was happy for B! And next to me sat M., watching others celebrate the victory that he so longed for, for the past six years. And just like when he was eight, I watched the tears roll down his face while he sat in the stands looking on as his brother, teammates, and fans rushed the field to celebrate. I can't tell you how much my heart hurt for him!!<br />
In some states, you can homeschool your kids and they can still play sports for the public schools. Not in Michigan. After much consideration, we chose to enroll M. in the local public High School...for football. That really was our only reason! I could not stand in the way of his dreams. Since then he has made the JV team as a freshman. I was glad for him as this victory came on the heels of the previous years Championship drama. As a sophomore, he was pulled up to varsity. Four games into the season, he broke his foot in practice. After getting word at the doctors office that his foot was indeed broken, he kept it together until he left the office. We made it to a bench in the lobby and he couldn't even stand, he was crushed. I had a six foot 215 lb. "man" sobbing on my shoulder. All he wanted was to play. God it hurts! I wanted nothing more than to have my foot broken instead of his. Holding on to each other, and me crying with him, we sat in the lobby like that for 15 minutes. It's an emotional roller coaster, this game! <br />
This year, he made captain. Proud is putting it mildly! He has shown dedication and leadership and was recognized for it. He's not a partier. He has a few close friends. Football motivates his GPA. He wants to play college ball. The first day of summer vacation, he was at the school, in the weight room. If the High School's weight room was open over the summer, he was there! He brought along his brothers with him. He and his father have influenced them. And this year B. begins his freshman year at the same school M. attends. Following in his brothers footsteps, he too made the JV team. B. shows the same willingness and commitment to work hard to achieve his goals. I'm glad that it's his brother that's his role model.<br />
Through it all, Mark has been their biggest fan. Mark's been at every practice. He coached for six years. I don't think he's ever missed one of their games. He doesn't belittle mistakes. He IS one hell of a cheerleader! He's the dad that the whole student body knows, because of his booming voice cheering on the boys from the stands, and his ability to keep everyone entertained! Mark will sit with the boys after school and watch video of the weeks previous game. He is commited to them.<br />
At last weeks game, he went up to the school an hour and a half before the game started, just because he was excited. I drove up to drop off some snacks and drinks so I wouldn't have to carry them later, and there he sat, top row, right under the press box (so he can hear what they say), alone and waiting, just staring out at the field. I tease him. I tell him he's living vicariously through the boys, but he's not. He shares their passion for the game! He's never forced them to play, but he won't let them quit something they've made a commitment to. He tears up at the Kenny Chesney song "Boys of Fall", and in turn, so do I. He loves watching them play. And he's proud of the men they are becoming. I still have a hard time understanding the game of football. What I do understand is the bond that it is between my husband and his sons. I love that they share it. I don't mind being on the outside looking in.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVQdY0AJhd1fDKrXptqTW13chJfHtwS2fWRcagbFQIsnXWnqB4oPJFv4zwuBo-KX_xUu6X0ne_jDuQ0g5FHSvYQNh4U0V7mP2bgCGlbLBf7d2I0NwYyi_8WB9ZTXoxcVJaN5LX4MLEz8/s1600/lions+football.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVQdY0AJhd1fDKrXptqTW13chJfHtwS2fWRcagbFQIsnXWnqB4oPJFv4zwuBo-KX_xUu6X0ne_jDuQ0g5FHSvYQNh4U0V7mP2bgCGlbLBf7d2I0NwYyi_8WB9ZTXoxcVJaN5LX4MLEz8/s320/lions+football.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soo long ago. So little. I love this pic. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Click <a href="http://youtu.be/AlXDo5WhQXI">here</a> to watch the Boys of Fall...better grab tissue!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-91939630255180102662011-08-18T15:07:00.000-07:002011-08-20T20:26:15.429-07:00They Don't Understand... I had an interesting conversation with a friend this morning. There seems to be a theme because I had the same conversation with someone else last week. What is the theme? Judgement. We are all so quick to judge others, without knowing their circumstances. Let me explain...<br />
We all make judgement calls on people. You can say, "Oh, I don't judge!" But we do. Someone makes a fb comment and offends us. And we judge. We tell ourselves, that's not someone I want to associate with. They are bad, rude, mean, inappropriate...etc. We've made a judgement based on a behavior or a comment. Sometimes rightly, sometimes wrongly. Sometimes we don't have enough information to make the right decision. Sometimes we let an offense consume us, or we let it negatively interfere with another relationship. Me? <em>I'm guilty</em>. But I'm working on it!<br />
There are people in my life that I am cautious with. I don't necessarily "click" with them. And I don't chum around with them. You don't have to. But, before we ostracize any and everyone who has ever stepped on our toes, or doesn't see eye to eye with us on everything, perhaps we should step back and try to gain a better understanding. Why were they rude on fb? Why did they cut you off in the parking lot? Why is he so arrogant? People claim to be compassionate about the plight of others, but too often we are all talk. We don't take time to find out their story. Maybe the whiny brat in the grocery store just buried his mother. Maybe the rude waitress at lunch has a cheating husband. Maybe that offensive friend on fb has a child with emotional issues. <br />
In my friends situation, the two offended parties refused to attend an event where the offender would be. They would miss out on reconnecting with others who would be there, and wanted to see them. It seems a shame. The offended person then turned around, and stepped on the toes of another. <br />
It's not always best to act on your first response, in other words, don't blurt out what a jerk you think the person is. Listen to others. Quit doing all of the talking. It's not always all about you! You don't have to be sappy, you don't have to drudge up dirty laundry. Just be polite, even when you don't necessarily want to be. There is truth in "You get more flies with honey." Show concern for others. You get what you give. These are just the simple lessons your mom taught you. Civility.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtgnQfYCgqRuVhRMgJV7b_HXX1yAtpvU1QTlAqZ4rvS0uW1an2xlJILgoyr2YT5-Oa99xUiTJdh1SU1IDWhu3PpehJ4CMHh-hrwu5JLGUOZwsh11zXgcgdSa0BmXtEPiz8g-aXMMEHh4/s1600/rope+bridge+mackinaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtgnQfYCgqRuVhRMgJV7b_HXX1yAtpvU1QTlAqZ4rvS0uW1an2xlJILgoyr2YT5-Oa99xUiTJdh1SU1IDWhu3PpehJ4CMHh-hrwu5JLGUOZwsh11zXgcgdSa0BmXtEPiz8g-aXMMEHh4/s320/rope+bridge+mackinaw.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> I'm not trying to sound preachy, but if we could just take a little time to gain an understanding of others. If we were not so sensitive, so easily hurt and quick to judge, maybe we'd know how to handle situations differently. And just maybe... we'd get along. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XyywkzZSnYQ">I think this song sums it up.</a>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-18592581070319776262011-08-13T19:06:00.000-07:002011-08-13T20:46:33.918-07:00Mom and E.'s Big Adventure!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgierE4zeX0rwxXUdLb5ZQiyOmyquobZu08WzuBeo5w7PV49sH_7X6OCJaVlXJlUYsjNn7zZnHKPnpqP0aAouE1qfHNbLgoko4qRofRIFOBtB0c6VhL4J2b_5AvFoEe6kl7NZS0O3XAoUM/s1600/160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgierE4zeX0rwxXUdLb5ZQiyOmyquobZu08WzuBeo5w7PV49sH_7X6OCJaVlXJlUYsjNn7zZnHKPnpqP0aAouE1qfHNbLgoko4qRofRIFOBtB0c6VhL4J2b_5AvFoEe6kl7NZS0O3XAoUM/s320/160.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've never seen the bridge from here before! <br />
Five miles of amazing engineering.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUe4MzuWJpPyOyaKBs1ubmHvIJTpuhqbOphQjKHJyn8EP03T0ZbhyrN1_ut2Pvu7IIRgT5ZOz1EHbwo9PcnK1mhQwFiMx1h-0haaAd5eJ-XQ7CvaQeyDIMX6wMtSRssku5Tz-7kk7a1zw/s1600/158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUe4MzuWJpPyOyaKBs1ubmHvIJTpuhqbOphQjKHJyn8EP03T0ZbhyrN1_ut2Pvu7IIRgT5ZOz1EHbwo9PcnK1mhQwFiMx1h-0haaAd5eJ-XQ7CvaQeyDIMX6wMtSRssku5Tz-7kk7a1zw/s320/158.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mighty Mac</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> What a whirlwind summer it's been! I can feel it slipping away. The past two nights have been great for sleeping (in the 50's), but it smells like September. My two older boys have started two a days for football. For me, that just means they are already on a school schedule. I wake up, and they are gone. They don't get home till 2:30. It never fails that summer seems to fade away long before I feel I've had enough of my kids to myself!</div><div style="text-align: left;"> I shouldn't complain too much, we've had a great time this summer! One on one time with any of the boys is a good thing. We were up north for a little over a week. Mark, M. and B. left early along with a friend of M's that we brought along. This left E. and I up to our own devices for two days! Monday, E. and I took Mackinac Island by storm!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"> We awoke to sunshine, blue skies, and bright fluffy clouds. Perfect! Whipped up some pancakes, settled the dog into the camper. Camera, wallet, cell phone attached to belt loops and inserted into hidden pockets. No bags today! We will be biking the island!!</div><div style="text-align: left;">There are several ferry lines that can take you to the island. One of them is some kind of jet boat that spews water fifty feet into the air behind it, and is supposed to get you there in fifteen minutes. That was not for us! This was mom and E.'s Big Adventure!! We wanted to savor every moment and make it last. A half hour ferry ride gave us time to take pictures, people watch on the boat, and feel the wind in our face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoMw1Kq1T9wbLgJQIXquMkBWivqb5AZT-cvQ_VyzfummBdgiXHKmOkFGoQKKon-fqqe04hQajbisp7BlUc7v1Z0qwAN6g_e5UclF0kIFbmb9_lXJwRbhJ4bbNeZMPR5_E1HfcOsDBjKc/s1600/153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoMw1Kq1T9wbLgJQIXquMkBWivqb5AZT-cvQ_VyzfummBdgiXHKmOkFGoQKKon-fqqe04hQajbisp7BlUc7v1Z0qwAN6g_e5UclF0kIFbmb9_lXJwRbhJ4bbNeZMPR5_E1HfcOsDBjKc/s320/153.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and E. at the beginning of our big adventure!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8qN32XXiy50LL6X2jKRgcfROyo3DMFFPOB_2q2o2T2KWS1ylKXCu3C6Il6WbNCMCwLirxfL7n1XOTcjVfbPW8bdDwQ6vrs3i_IRxOCxl61D_w2EtTIYOCYcoBCNiLUpbIOSrwgshB7Y/s1600/165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8qN32XXiy50LL6X2jKRgcfROyo3DMFFPOB_2q2o2T2KWS1ylKXCu3C6Il6WbNCMCwLirxfL7n1XOTcjVfbPW8bdDwQ6vrs3i_IRxOCxl61D_w2EtTIYOCYcoBCNiLUpbIOSrwgshB7Y/s320/165.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First view of the Island</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Upon our arrival, the first thing we saw as we left the docks, was the bike rental place. This is no coincidence. Mackinac Island has no cars! As the story goes, when cars were first brought to the island, one backfired and spooked a horse, since then...NO cars allowed! While standing in line and surveying our choices, we spotted the tandem bike! Neither one of us had ever been on one, and the thought was appealing...we went for it! We got on, adjusted and took a wobbly spin down the first block.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> The toughest part is merging into traffic after stopping at a scenic spots...and there are a lot of them! Bike traffic is heavy, and small children (as well as some adults) tend to think they are the only ones on the road. They'll stop and converse in the middle of the street (and even park their bikes), forcing those coming up behind them to swerve into oncoming traffic!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You have to really trust the person "driving"...I drove!!! lol!!!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> We made sure to stop at Arch Rock. It took me ten minutes just to find a parking spot among what seemed like hundreds of bikes! Nobody worries about chaining them up. If you are going to steal anything, it's for sure not going to be a rental bike. We started the steep climb up the hill to the arch. We must be in tough economic times, because it doesn't look like the state of Michigan Parks System has done anything to the steps or handrails in a good 20 years! This isn't comforting to someone who <em>loathes </em>(and I don't use the word lightly!) heights. I made it to the top, and was it worth it!! Amazing views of Lake Huron! Michigan is so much more than auto plants. Now, for the hike down, which was worse because you can see exactly how high up you are!</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arch Rock</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at those little bikes down there!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7JAM_SWwPOiTcLqpu3GGrJySfPOXvF3lagQzKkK9ci8F0WEHhND6Ng3OLtmCtVzGljY85o2edNV6tQDx7DDG0gOt76G3L1O-72Cn1em9Rn4sVFDIP6ctEuAN4tx27UnO9_CfhEFktJY/s1600/180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7JAM_SWwPOiTcLqpu3GGrJySfPOXvF3lagQzKkK9ci8F0WEHhND6Ng3OLtmCtVzGljY85o2edNV6tQDx7DDG0gOt76G3L1O-72Cn1em9Rn4sVFDIP6ctEuAN4tx27UnO9_CfhEFktJY/s320/180.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Incredible views!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1guwy0nJTX2PpD__5bqCWxqKHOXAncSzcI0SSE4l3fE6HMmpB5KwoPm4Ykp0uwqjG8PdlisiTkNW5UbWicXizHOovKERRAEJ1iBiZDPufpQg7eoU9WH7T5TUzNi6108mV8SW0YOQlhTc/s1600/181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1guwy0nJTX2PpD__5bqCWxqKHOXAncSzcI0SSE4l3fE6HMmpB5KwoPm4Ykp0uwqjG8PdlisiTkNW5UbWicXizHOovKERRAEJ1iBiZDPufpQg7eoU9WH7T5TUzNi6108mV8SW0YOQlhTc/s320/181.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
As we peddled our way around the eight mile perimeter of the island, we noticed rock towers all along the beach. Some big, some small, some with embellishments such as pine twigs added, or beach wood connecting two towers. People would pull their bikes off to the side and create their own little monument as proof that they had visited the island. Not wanting to miss a thing, E. and I pulled over to make a rock monument of our own! As I looked at the time on my cell phone (we were renting the bike by the hour) I began to imagine the owner of the bike rental shop sneaking out to the area beaches under the light of the moon, making tower upon tower of rocks! A slick, marketing scheme to keep customers out on the trails longer!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little stone towers everywhere along the beach!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQW-__q5MtzpnWsbR0hPlIZu-Mi1toaYiawRatvx0uDHBMnKVuU9deCEoxS8w28WAljcuOTK3XmadjHzK_DxZzRw8MDMqfZP9WY8Uf9OFOnUOSHaOqqh6Z97FxPvLJkuOsBRdLKHOsg8w/s1600/191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQW-__q5MtzpnWsbR0hPlIZu-Mi1toaYiawRatvx0uDHBMnKVuU9deCEoxS8w28WAljcuOTK3XmadjHzK_DxZzRw8MDMqfZP9WY8Uf9OFOnUOSHaOqqh6Z97FxPvLJkuOsBRdLKHOsg8w/s320/191.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You have to find good flat stones to make your tower taller.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michelle and David Miller (whoever you are) we found your stone!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E. and I with the tower we built.</td></tr>
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</div>Most of the island is owned by the state parks system, so once you leave the town proper, there are only a handful of houses that line the trail. Small cottages with forest behind and stunning views of the lake in front. Occasionally, you would see horses corralled in the yard. So it came as a surprise to find the big, lodge style home atop a hill! The windows on the first floor had been boarded up, and many on the second were broken. The paint was chipped and the weeds had taken over. It semed a hundred years old! The Ghost and Mrs. Muir come to mind. But it had mystique...and I loved it! Who would have left it? The house had a history, and I wanted to know more!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cottage adjacent to the main house.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just <em>love </em>it!! If I win lotto, I'm buying it!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tell me if you see a face in any of the windows...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful old boat! I would love to see the inside.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zHxnqCDX0P1bELr_HCslpirbAStAn_oNXaOOF2kpqk1RGBhWSm4veiqXTAy7VVH9CD_se3Zk6VU853_vPUjm-eG2Zoj3R5F-BSwGMxB882ds0nyEITNqFx4zCJVGMNXFfusvjQjiymg/s1600/208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zHxnqCDX0P1bELr_HCslpirbAStAn_oNXaOOF2kpqk1RGBhWSm4veiqXTAy7VVH9CD_se3Zk6VU853_vPUjm-eG2Zoj3R5F-BSwGMxB882ds0nyEITNqFx4zCJVGMNXFfusvjQjiymg/s320/208.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Devils Kitchen</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We passed beautiful boats, stunning homes, amazing scenery, and after two hours on our tandem bike, I was happy to hear E. exclaim, "I'm tired, my butt hurts, lets get lunch!!" That was just what I was thinking. We made our way to the rental place, then tossed around our options for lunch. It really was a no brainer. I told E., there's only one place to go...The Pink Pony! We made our way through the bar and to the hostess station. It would be a 20 minute wait, but that was okay. We were on "island time"! We decided to find a way to fill our time. We walked over to the front desk of the adjoining hotel and managed to talk our way into a self guided tour of the Honeymoon suite. Very nice! E. was impressed with the hot tub in the room and commented that it would make for a very romantic evening!! YIKES!!</div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E. checking out the amenities in the Honeymoon Suite.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge92awHCKX4FC-S7Cfzorke8rvw_GwF95RiOPECGAc6vy9fr6425-8naYae3VR4X98qqgblggl1RTRAI30ikThO9qEGJ0V2xoCZ23_8cV7O-Rbusrx5biXmYAoWUSnH3Lk2NZAioCE7RA/s1600/220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge92awHCKX4FC-S7Cfzorke8rvw_GwF95RiOPECGAc6vy9fr6425-8naYae3VR4X98qqgblggl1RTRAI30ikThO9qEGJ0V2xoCZ23_8cV7O-Rbusrx5biXmYAoWUSnH3Lk2NZAioCE7RA/s320/220.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole place was just charming!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Our tour was cut short when our buzzer went off to let us know that our table on the patio was ready. The patio at the Pink Pony was voted best in Michigan, and for good reason! The views of the harbor are amazing! So, <em>my </em> review? Views...exceptional. Food...good. Service...our waiter mumbled! I kept having him repeat himself! General atmosphere...the music was tuned to a local pop station (the banter of the DJ was annoying), and was too loud. I was hoping for something somewhat more sophisticated to go along with the setting. The company...couldn't get ANY better!! As we sat chatting over our morning ride, E. became quiet and stared at me. Being the smart alec that I am, I asked if he was impressed with how beautiful his mother is?! ;) He said "No." (eh~hem!!) He said he was thinking about how awesome it was that I would do all of this for him today, this "Mom and E's Big Adventure". WOW! I almost started to bawl, but I didn't want to lose the upbeat tempo of the day! It wasn't an extravagant day. We spent some money, but not too much. It was just an adventure, just the two of us, but what an impact it had! We need more adventures.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E. at the Pink Pony</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink Lemonade at the Pink Pony!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIvbx9ULayWLsjE4qbFic6__bM6OphrEJp1cKr4O4jqmdbwyH_0Y1ck-0WAFBRf4QjVI29wb7ODXgM-W7gtJtqwSJeEgF6BeVqu-ydwaqHhntXgZ2tg2-HOAio4eMwmLs8H765ppRp6Q/s1600/227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIvbx9ULayWLsjE4qbFic6__bM6OphrEJp1cKr4O4jqmdbwyH_0Y1ck-0WAFBRf4QjVI29wb7ODXgM-W7gtJtqwSJeEgF6BeVqu-ydwaqHhntXgZ2tg2-HOAio4eMwmLs8H765ppRp6Q/s320/227.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm a ham. I know.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vTsFdssw4jJJLaq9O6gg0VPyjWfkSuRWe4NsnS4SaFjEZ_pGdAIxilA6gxSPDhru-n4aDDr9bKmcXFEewBdEhEk8tbdPVWu3RTXk_oUDcZVgc_OdM0cZZe6abI6PU5z_f5gJ3oCqcGA/s1600/229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vTsFdssw4jJJLaq9O6gg0VPyjWfkSuRWe4NsnS4SaFjEZ_pGdAIxilA6gxSPDhru-n4aDDr9bKmcXFEewBdEhEk8tbdPVWu3RTXk_oUDcZVgc_OdM0cZZe6abI6PU5z_f5gJ3oCqcGA/s320/229.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the lower patio.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojURnY7x7fHyuEJsDtMD_uyLF9L7A5kI8Us1HEkC01f3xdnN5u7t1wZFZ33BWv8P9s1qVh78dNfSpVvFzdXhZQeao176PS7238pFCgmvSHrfBgTvTJqCUmztXvJi50XzIQf26XzXSsbc/s1600/230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojURnY7x7fHyuEJsDtMD_uyLF9L7A5kI8Us1HEkC01f3xdnN5u7t1wZFZ33BWv8P9s1qVh78dNfSpVvFzdXhZQeao176PS7238pFCgmvSHrfBgTvTJqCUmztXvJi50XzIQf26XzXSsbc/s320/230.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I enjoyed the whitefish taco with sweet potato fries!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Our day began to wind down after lunch. We strolled on over to the Museum on Merchant street where fellow blogger Brenda (of Bree's Mackinac Island Blog <a href="http://bree1972.wordpress.com/">http://bree1972.wordpress.com/</a>) works on Mondays. I enjoy her blog, filled with stories and info on the Island. I thought it would be fun to meet her. She had worked earlier that morning and we had missed her. However, we weren't disappointed! Candy (who works the afternoon shift at the museum) and her cousin Stella, were a HOOT!!! Truly, friendly Island natives!! I look forward to seeing them again! (Stella, stay on the Island!!!)<br />
I asked Candy about the big, old, abandoned house we had seen on our bike ride. They knew of the house and said that it had been owned by...wait for it...the island's UNDERTAKER!! I asked how long it had been abandoned, they said it wasn't. The story gets better...apparently, his son still lives there! Images of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir disappeared, only to be replace by visions of Psycho racing through my head. It all seemed great fodder for the overactive imaginations of the Island's children at Halloween!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Candy and I</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJ02bcb0tNXeksgmiHSGNlAkzjFckV7NAnz9sUMb1zz0e_ygt0_wsOBtyf74zNuP0gF8Ct86d8T06ECM5791Us39Yewk5vrUA45EYXRO_lL1_9Ltx6EG2zreDp-ZBmxJypgLysORc3CY/s1600/232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJ02bcb0tNXeksgmiHSGNlAkzjFckV7NAnz9sUMb1zz0e_ygt0_wsOBtyf74zNuP0gF8Ct86d8T06ECM5791Us39Yewk5vrUA45EYXRO_lL1_9Ltx6EG2zreDp-ZBmxJypgLysORc3CY/s320/232.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and Stella too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E. thought it was cool that this little one was bidding us farewell, and snapped a pic!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A favorite stop whenever we are up north..."The Big Dipper"!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Our last stop on the Island was at May's for some fudge. You can't go to the Island without bringing back fudge. It's okay, I embrace the title "Fudge Sucking Lowlander"! We thought about a carriage ride, but decided that would put us back at camp later than we wanted. We went to the docks, and waited for the ferry to take us back to the mainland. On the drive home, we hit our favorite ice cream shop in Cheboygan. My kids are growing up so fast. And my time with them is so short. School and will be staring soon, and along with it a crazy schedule filled with extra curricular activities. And in the midst of it, I will remember a warm summer day with a gentle lake breeze, and a twelve year old boy who thought I was the best because I spent it with him.<br />
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Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-46557195194482310292011-07-19T10:32:00.000-07:002011-07-19T11:43:00.332-07:00Sisters, Boobs and Breast Cancer! Wow! It's been while since I've been here. July has been a busy month! Campfire Musings all across the east coast! I've just gotten back from Massachusetts. I was out there for the wedding of my youngest sister. The trip coincided with my middle sisters recent discovery that she has breast cancer. The news came as quite a shock. This is going to take a while to write, I feel it already! Are sibling relationships the most complex? This is as much about relationships, as it is about my sisters cancer.<br />
We are as much alike in some respects as we are different. And when we fight? Ohhh....don't get in the way!! It's like watching hurricane clouds over a boiling sea! I can fight with her, but I get very defensive if someone else messes with my sister! Her husband is an only child. He doesn't get it <em>at all!</em> <br />
In actuality, the older we get, the less we fight. Chalk it up to maturity. But every now and then, like a volcano, it blows! Is she at fault? YES! Am I? Yes. But here's the thing, I can't control her. I can't control her actions. I can only control me. She may still act poorly, (she probably will!! lol!! ) as will I, but it's <em>my</em> responsibility to change <em>my</em> behavior. People are who they are. It's a matter of accepting them as such. Diplomacy is an art! Not saying that you can't discuss issues that arise. But it's not my job to change anyone. Leave that up to God. He gave us 2 ears and one mouth so that we could listen more than we talk.<br />
So...cancer. Fortunately, we had very gradually come back to a decent place in our relationship before she was diagnosed. For that I am thankful. She will be having both breasts removed. She is 36. She has a beautiful 1 year old daughter. Her treatment will be aggressive and there will be a 50% chance that she will be infertile when all is said and done. IVF is not a viable option. This has been the biggest blow as she and her husband looked forward to adding to their family. But, despite everything, she is taking on this battle with determination, strength, and a Whitcomb sense of humor. You don't have to whisper when you say cancer! I never knew there were so many "boobie" jokes!<br />
In a little over a week, she will start treatment. I wish I could be out there for her while she goes through this process. She will be having a "Head Shaving Party" at her salon. I LOVE this idea! Talk about turning a negative into a positive!! Others will be getting their heads shaved, and there will be snacks and drinks. Wanting to do what I could I eagerly offered to shave my head as well!!! It seemed a good idea at the time...until I saw her really cute wig, done in a sassy blonde style. Hmmm. I reconsidered as my insurance won't cover the super cute wig. <br />
What can I do to support. Pink ribbon? Eh. I want to do something that would remind me daily to pray for her. I want to do something pro active. I want to fight <em>with</em> her. For a long time I have been battling my weight. The older I get, the less healthy I become. Along with the extra weight comes a higher risk of cancer and a myriad of other health problems. I've taken my health for granted. Tricia <em>has</em> to fight. If she can take on battling breast cancer, a fight she didn't start, I can for sure take on the extra pounds that have been torturing me! Each time I am tempted, is a reminder to meditate and pray for her. So I dedicate my struggle to her. It may sound weird, but it's what I'm doing. So keep her in your prayers, and I'll update you on the progress! Here is a picture of Trish and her boobies!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxVgYbmBSCgx2R1UEErQM_leVV1lEy9Vbkir15mkIxIw_HadWqMqP83KGD34MAgxHUIIwt3hn4X94RA_3y_soW082z8d_dz6AxMzAaPO8QdP7T43Oc2YVonG9bVEir2SckbseWMmr5a0/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxVgYbmBSCgx2R1UEErQM_leVV1lEy9Vbkir15mkIxIw_HadWqMqP83KGD34MAgxHUIIwt3hn4X94RA_3y_soW082z8d_dz6AxMzAaPO8QdP7T43Oc2YVonG9bVEir2SckbseWMmr5a0/s320/001.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, the hat? Looong story!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RBy1KHzkuylMKZjQL8M59jEMAXzljsIhV_D8JvQMgp8a6oz9d09xIWyBFxq86vmefDb98ZLx5a2vDeknBDpRimP37a_-yKSXN9JKHEzldKcbh74eoykdzKFrDQBvnRx_6pIJ1YBgi_o/s1600/072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RBy1KHzkuylMKZjQL8M59jEMAXzljsIhV_D8JvQMgp8a6oz9d09xIWyBFxq86vmefDb98ZLx5a2vDeknBDpRimP37a_-yKSXN9JKHEzldKcbh74eoykdzKFrDQBvnRx_6pIJ1YBgi_o/s320/072.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tricia and Tracy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-5691911625232805622011-06-19T11:20:00.000-07:002011-06-19T13:37:13.171-07:00Fathers Day, Quantity Time! Thinking about the dads in my life. I'm with neither of them today. Mark has taken M. to his second football camp of the summer, so they are gone for the day. My own dad lives 800 miles away, but I will see him in two short weeks. <br />
When I was little, we lived in the small town that my dad grew up in. My dad spent time with us. What I remember most fondly, were Saturday mornings! It would be just the two of us. I would run errands with him. We would bring the trash to the dump. This was a fascinating adventure!! A busy place, with mountains of trash, and birds circling overhead. Then, off to pick up donuts and a newspaper. I think the name of the place was "Honey~Dew". Often times we would stop at my grandmothers who lived just across town. Another busy place!! My dad had 1 older brother and 5 younger brothers, so something was always going on there! He'd have a cup of coffee and catch up. I'd find a cousin, uncle, or neighbor to run off outside with. In the summer we would spend the afternoon washing the car. I don't <em>ever </em>remember my dad bringing the car to a car wash! It cost money, that (at the time) they didn't have a lot of. Plus, <em>nobody </em>could get a car "shining like new money", like my dad could!! He worked in auto body for years. First doing, then teaching. He had a red, 1970, Cutlass Convertible. I would scrub white walls, rinse off soapy water and "turtle wax" the chrome. He'd tell me, "You just ain't cool if your chrome don't shine!"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="240" src="http://southernmotors.com/misc/FileUploads/70cutconv3976%200012195.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This wasn't ours, but looks a lot like it. Ours had a black rag top.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> He often had to work a second job, but it was out of necessity. If he had painted a car during the week, I would get to go to Morris' shop, (don't even remember the name of the shop, but I remember his bosses name) and help him peel paper and tape off of the car. I loved this. He made me feel as if I were really helping. It smelled of bondo in there. I love the smell of bondo! Often times my uncle and cousin would be there. My cousin and I would explore the shop, and since it was a weekend, nobody would be there. It was a spooky place to a couple of five year old kids, a rambling old building on the edge of the woods. <br />
When I got older, he would often work on a car in our garage at home. But it was in these everyday activities that a father/daughter relationship grew. Conversations were had. It wasn't planned. We didn't have to "do something". But in everyday life, he made his children a part of it. <br />
These are the qualities that I love in my husband. We do things together! It could be as mundane as going to Sam's Club, and Mark would say we go "As a family!" Obviously, as the kids get older, it gets more challenging. But we do our best to make it a priority. I don't buy the "Quality Time" theory. Try telling that to someone you've just started dating. Don't you want to spend as much time with them as possible? It's not about going to an expensive restaurant, it's about being with them. Sharing life!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63ukopD-2YDD566PcW7oN6KkbQSakZPHIPz3Uda70pvM58mndgTMxkaAnbhgHJf0zfKYPJ3l5WnZTZXzxVqO4Csf6pYctzNlqqPa7bJQk8Z85uTuthS4sIH4bUC9dEsGY2M72xprCw_o/s1600/IMG_0032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63ukopD-2YDD566PcW7oN6KkbQSakZPHIPz3Uda70pvM58mndgTMxkaAnbhgHJf0zfKYPJ3l5WnZTZXzxVqO4Csf6pYctzNlqqPa7bJQk8Z85uTuthS4sIH4bUC9dEsGY2M72xprCw_o/s320/IMG_0032.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my dad! And a little B! ;) (A while back!!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table> We are given a very short amount of time with our children, a small window of opportunity to make an impact on their lives. (And it goes by fast!!) I'm glad my dad made time for me!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotoTheaterCaption" avglschecked="1" class="spotlight" height="240" src="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/215728_2020151506949_1338773434_32436071_6373133_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My boys dad!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-31066738603163198822011-06-13T20:27:00.000-07:002011-06-13T20:27:58.917-07:00Strawberry Fields Forever! Summer vacation! Tomorrow is the first full day. This past year, I have had two of my guys still learning at home. With M. in public school, I'm excited to have a little more of his time now that break is here! It's a bittersweet summer. Next September I will be sending B. off to public High School. I'm going to miss B., so I want to make sure that we make the best of the summer! (despite all of our crazy schedules) <br />
Today was a family outing that marks the beginning of summer. Strawberry picking!!! I love seeing how different activities have turned into tradition. The kids expect to kick off the summer this way. It wouldn't seem right if we didn't do it. Our first year, M. hated strawberries. However, he had only tasted the ones in the grocery store, that had been picked green and left to ripen on a shelf. Sitting in a field full of berries, ripened by the sun was a whole new thing! Sweet, juicy, and he couldn't stop eating them!! It was warm today, but not too hot, blue skies and a breeze.We spent the afternoon picking <em>way </em>too many strawberries! The first season we went picking, we had so much fun, (and the weather was similar to today's), that we just kept picking! (I don't know <em>what </em>I was thinking!) When we finally had them weighed, I just about choked when he told me my bill came to $75.00 worth of those ripe, red berries!! It seemed like a good idea at the time! We are experienced pickers now, and are far more self controlled. We leave the strawberry fields with red stained lips, fingers, bottoms and knees. A perfect afternoon made better only by a trip to the local dairy freeze for some soft serve.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fist step in a successful berry picking trip, is testing the product to ensure it meets standards.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DShkxycIZjRSk4Il_OywPFiYWG_7t4bXKIm2SzCl_WtNxVeTCjBA_wGEUqkCToqXyfh16dy1hdeLe5S4hiVQ2hLvN6wcaSK0FURLXGApj7ovbYO0x3ewYkIgv8RvbrAQVfJF5zjc82s/s1600/138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DShkxycIZjRSk4Il_OywPFiYWG_7t4bXKIm2SzCl_WtNxVeTCjBA_wGEUqkCToqXyfh16dy1hdeLe5S4hiVQ2hLvN6wcaSK0FURLXGApj7ovbYO0x3ewYkIgv8RvbrAQVfJF5zjc82s/s320/138.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor attempt at self portrait, esp. when I'm not looking at the camera! <br />
But I thought the reflection in the glasses was cool!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF13_-duWWby92R78IiaRIQIi1S0OUNdBaTvZAcuTyXChvnHxpH-E-S097Sja6BZ-O8Sx8umMPy2WPKZMzQkKyGvibOYPzy3JDEIgBOBgLJWEIU0eMx6UCLvkHo1mTgMEywvZ8Hb-rSQY/s1600/139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF13_-duWWby92R78IiaRIQIi1S0OUNdBaTvZAcuTyXChvnHxpH-E-S097Sja6BZ-O8Sx8umMPy2WPKZMzQkKyGvibOYPzy3JDEIgBOBgLJWEIU0eMx6UCLvkHo1mTgMEywvZ8Hb-rSQY/s320/139.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking for good ones.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYplJ2tP62e_XKIPNioWaQYVgsEdk8RChTShupVjea5yyauAVDJKZc2vVNT0hrIE_DA-090-9CSs9pC1zJZCYXraMo8pdW7inqzLd8y5tVnp_oFW14uMxzA_0sdDNHQVTPonXXGKl9q7w/s1600/140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYplJ2tP62e_XKIPNioWaQYVgsEdk8RChTShupVjea5yyauAVDJKZc2vVNT0hrIE_DA-090-9CSs9pC1zJZCYXraMo8pdW7inqzLd8y5tVnp_oFW14uMxzA_0sdDNHQVTPonXXGKl9q7w/s320/140.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our job is to fill the box!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrwh_kvC5D1wz-XWm_jKVra2wpa8xCPCpxheRu6ix8Q_3ZmTeZmHqpYcHRbF8G_dPEMUJ3Kg-h_V8xkLZkyEN6rvU23sUv7Nr9J_3-A0kW2OKZXw1sHTE5ZoESbskb4la_Uqf2ODHwb8/s1600/141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrwh_kvC5D1wz-XWm_jKVra2wpa8xCPCpxheRu6ix8Q_3ZmTeZmHqpYcHRbF8G_dPEMUJ3Kg-h_V8xkLZkyEN6rvU23sUv7Nr9J_3-A0kW2OKZXw1sHTE5ZoESbskb4la_Uqf2ODHwb8/s320/141.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dear Santa, please bring me a REAL camera for Christmas!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5huSasf8slhlO9ZwqXLHN2ecBXjQDPHfdjIwVtkU7fdDnLll2gzr62yOOJRq-0_hAao4VCwjIZIqGxRSDzqXwlFPKQnafErBgA6ISAm6UE8Nr6On-C9jMVNAQxcizW9Unp5fG1fWVVk/s1600/144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5huSasf8slhlO9ZwqXLHN2ecBXjQDPHfdjIwVtkU7fdDnLll2gzr62yOOJRq-0_hAao4VCwjIZIqGxRSDzqXwlFPKQnafErBgA6ISAm6UE8Nr6On-C9jMVNAQxcizW9Unp5fG1fWVVk/s320/144.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">B. lost in the fields. I had to keep them from whipping the rotten ones at each other!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_jAqzFzSyAak46LqZaCMx1TAr6984kycQZcHOLfvonc_ZOuVD-A_m7X0zvgZ7SUbVIiX5UeAF2yZhkYouuGRUtjgavhdIjD3dsTtTHlV2YQ-CTONhGa4RKuvlM3cMC851CwupewaI988/s1600/143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_jAqzFzSyAak46LqZaCMx1TAr6984kycQZcHOLfvonc_ZOuVD-A_m7X0zvgZ7SUbVIiX5UeAF2yZhkYouuGRUtjgavhdIjD3dsTtTHlV2YQ-CTONhGa4RKuvlM3cMC851CwupewaI988/s320/143.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's exciting when you find the perfect, plump, red berry!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6g5VSeBF6wL-JOmhWXowcEW_B27lRBJQqptKTPGNdgVejliayZ5Gxv08NII5Zor8zBl-JU3bMd9Mr2XnIKPi-8L6CEXOQVchRZtjH5Odzdh4sRjz_X8eDkMOuiX2wSFhrEJV0wqoxjbU/s1600/145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6g5VSeBF6wL-JOmhWXowcEW_B27lRBJQqptKTPGNdgVejliayZ5Gxv08NII5Zor8zBl-JU3bMd9Mr2XnIKPi-8L6CEXOQVchRZtjH5Odzdh4sRjz_X8eDkMOuiX2wSFhrEJV0wqoxjbU/s320/145.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our reward!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieklb2QZk6jU4eILSfSUORRDRJI6It3vjcxdAiMpNqAFn_Lfusaeo4usmScr-b5yWabeqk9_7gxH-6cHiKzzhLIWf4_wxpVvK6kXvrXIyiWSdWhCOyT7g69ntVbkkwlZanuMobMGE1FvY/s1600/148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieklb2QZk6jU4eILSfSUORRDRJI6It3vjcxdAiMpNqAFn_Lfusaeo4usmScr-b5yWabeqk9_7gxH-6cHiKzzhLIWf4_wxpVvK6kXvrXIyiWSdWhCOyT7g69ntVbkkwlZanuMobMGE1FvY/s320/148.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> Later I will scour the Internet for strawberry recipes. Breakfast on our first camping trip of the season is already planned. Pancakes with homemade strawberry syrup! My mouth is watering just thinking about it. (By the end of the week the kids are <em>begging </em>for scrambled eggs!) Welcome summer!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-20368246236810289602011-06-11T08:46:00.000-07:002011-06-11T17:06:28.193-07:00Happy Birthday to ME!!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPr6_4RolLv6WVHzF39s4ABHHjxAMPOKjzqf2n_L6EppIS7a0tZ41q33EoMvOXmuP1laCRMmHFAwokOkXQBfywgP23G3f2QC0hFk4tZCu8KuNN8jOwndgZ9BYrH17hk6F0CAqritS7yKw/s1600/birthday+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPr6_4RolLv6WVHzF39s4ABHHjxAMPOKjzqf2n_L6EppIS7a0tZ41q33EoMvOXmuP1laCRMmHFAwokOkXQBfywgP23G3f2QC0hFk4tZCu8KuNN8jOwndgZ9BYrH17hk6F0CAqritS7yKw/s320/birthday+girl.jpg" width="241" /></a></div> <strong>May 20th...</strong><br />
I've had 3 birthday surprises today and it's not even my birthday yet!! I'm like a kid! It's my birthday week. I don't care that I'm getting older. I like who I am much more than who I was. So, let me tell you about the surprises I got today...<br />
It's always fun to get a surprise in the mail. I came home from running errands to find that the mailman had dropped off a brown box on the front doorstep. My mom always sends my gift along with E's at the same time. Our birthdays are within days of each other. Inside were 2 gift bags. Mine was obviously the more "girly" of the two. Now, really, do you think I can wait over a week to open it?! Heck no!! Inside were two books on canning. These are good things as I've been wanting to learn! I was a typical suburban kid, raised far from a farm and the canning rituals that went along with it.<br />
After opening my gift, I left to pick up M. from school. On the ride home, he announced that he had to give me my birthday gift early for fear the dog might chew it! Really?! What on earth could he have gotten me? Pig ear? Rawhide? I'm not Shania Twain, but I think I'm kinda cute! But, whatever, I get to open another present early!! When we got home, he pulled a paper bag from his backpack. Now I'm wondering, when did they start selling rawhide at the school store? Out of the bag I pulled a carved wooden coyote, decoratively painted in bright colors! (no coyote comments please!) Apparently the Mexican artist who creates these wonderful pieces came into his Spanish class today. Very cool stuff! M. said he thought it looked "artsy fartsy" enough that I would like it. (I really don't think the dog would have chewed it, I think he just wanted to give it to me.)<br />
Later in the evening I got a call from my friend Lena. She and her husband Mike had just seen a great play at the Purple Rose Theater in Chelsea. Mark and I were to have joined them but due to budget constraints, had to bow out. Lena raved about the play, and insisted she take me for my birthday! Am I lucky to have such good friends, or what???<br />
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<strong>...Fast forward, Birthday!!!!</strong><br />
I really did have a great day! I awoke and went about my usual routine. After checking emails, I hopped over to fb. Your birthday really is the most fun day on face book, am I right? Fun to read through all the well wishes from family and friends. E. stumbled downstairs and into the office. I was showered with kisses and lilacs picked fresh from the garden! (They sit right beside me on my desk in my favorite coffee mug.) He then headed off to the kitchen to make me breakfast. B. gave me the gift of a clean room. (Trust me, this is a treasured gift!) The boys share a room, and nobody knows how to de-clutter like B.!!<br />
After breakfast I slipped out of the house for a pedicure. Really no better way to start any day than to sit in the massage chair and have a stranger rub your feet! Then headed off to lunch with Lena. Great, leisurely meal at the Common Grill. Two glasses of cabernet later, we headed off to The Purple Rose theater to see "Some Couples May". Great show!! It would be really nice to do that once a month. Perfect girls day out.<br />
When I got home, Mark had a card with a lotto ticket in it. Apparently, he and E. had watched a program on lotto winners, and since it was my Birthday, I was <em>sure </em>to win!! (I think I'm supposed to sleep with it under my pillow!) Along with a copy of Michigan Blue, with a campfire on the cover. Does he know me or what!? Later that evening, my guys took me out to dinner. To spend the evening uninterrupted, just us, was gift enough. <br />
My point with this post? Nothing but to express my thanks and gratitude for family and friends that love me! I am <em>very </em>fortunate. Do I have issues with the passing of time? Nah! I'm pretty happy with who I've become and the life I have. Thanks everyone!! Happy Birthday to me!!<br />
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P.S. I didn't win lotto!!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-60325218967025925652011-05-20T08:17:00.000-07:002011-05-20T08:52:53.108-07:00Hometown History I came across a "challenge" while blog hopping. You never know <em>what </em>you'll encounter while blog hopping. The challange was to write a history of your hometown. Well now, that presents a problem for me. The town I was born in, I only lived in until I was 10. Not enough time to develop those "homey" feelings. We then spent a brief time in New York, and then off to Michigan. I only spent enough time in that particular suburban town we landed in, to finish highschool and meet my husband. At that point, I moved to <em>his</em> hometown. A setting far more urban than I would have preferred. So, I've never felt at home here.<br />
If you've <em>ever</em> checked into my blog, I'm sure you know where I'm going with this! The place where I truly feel at home is the place where our family goes to come together. To get away from the chaos of day to day life in the city. The pictures are all throughout this blog. I'll claim Bearinger Township as my hometown.<br />
Bearinger Township sits at the tip of Michigans lower penninsula. It's approxomately 1/2 way between Rogers City and Cheboygan. The eastern border of the town touches the western shores of Lake Huron, while the west side of the township enjoys sunsets on Black Lake. Bearinger (as of the 2,000 census) has a whopping 329 residents! We don't have our own schools, I don't think there is a store within the township limits. Is there a gas station? Thinking...No! Really, the only thing we have are woods, and water! (And a few homes, cottages and an array of hunting cabins!) It's history revolves around logging. And later tourism. Not the kind of tourism that has you buying fudge, and t-shirts that say "Grandma went to Bearinger and all I got was this lousy t-shirt"! No, the kind of tourists that Bearinger attracts wear Stormy Kromers! (google it!!) They boat, sail, salmon fish, hunt, snowmobile, quad ride, hike, swim, canoe and have long conversations 'round campfires.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> The township of Bearinger is located in Presque Isle County. The county seat is Rogers City. Now</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Rogers City, there's a story! Founded by the illegitimate son of a King in Germany, by the name of Albert Molitor. Molitor hooked up with William E. Rogers. (see the connection? Rogers...) Anyway, the two worked for the dept. of Lake Survey, and stumbled upon a sizeable stand of virgin timber in 1869. The pair headed north to exploit their findings! And so the birth of Rogers City. Rogers spent only one winter before he said nuts to this! He headed back east, where winters were more civilized. Yet the town bears his name. And there's more! Money, greed, murder, politics, manipulation! It certainly didn't start out as a sleepy little town. But, enough about Rogers City. This is about Bearinger.<object class="BLOG_video_class" contentid="FAILED" height="266" id="BLOG_video-FAILED-0" width="320"></object></div> Perhaps the best way to tell you about my town, is to show you my town...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harbor of refuge run by the state of Michigan.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wintery view of the harbor!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quad/snowmobile trails criss cross the county.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beach roses! My favorite time of the year!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFPF_dhCaHKQBZcjrRIQPYeyODVeFGWQdNztHhHb7G3rkcijEGO3wkgMQqlYd3ZvYvjmXkODFAv46ev03g4CBHHy2lenJRzK263aYokKOkW7Plhg3yxsRdgZgdGmbe6Z9brfy_IXA7ss/s1600/131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFPF_dhCaHKQBZcjrRIQPYeyODVeFGWQdNztHhHb7G3rkcijEGO3wkgMQqlYd3ZvYvjmXkODFAv46ev03g4CBHHy2lenJRzK263aYokKOkW7Plhg3yxsRdgZgdGmbe6Z9brfy_IXA7ss/s320/131.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bouquet my boys picked to dress up the picnic table.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig221EBLmfxnR0niYNse2j2PsnJA8WwXFskQ_JoGhKfr6DLTtOdjIRPazhAosa-sw5Pzb5oGvvlDbmdb60H7BA13NFQ16U2HwW_GnHVWBj3vlKZfhGrIGc1LniqCz9ZEVjVfg-sjSE3uI/s1600/132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig221EBLmfxnR0niYNse2j2PsnJA8WwXFskQ_JoGhKfr6DLTtOdjIRPazhAosa-sw5Pzb5oGvvlDbmdb60H7BA13NFQ16U2HwW_GnHVWBj3vlKZfhGrIGc1LniqCz9ZEVjVfg-sjSE3uI/s320/132.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Out in the woods of Bearinger township. B. with the blind he built himself!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9Oy9ujb7xQ0VvD3SS-uMpuNIIZQ8KE5faoLiTWa3JnoVYA1vOQmx1ziAeLmynb4W9GEh8BOCHdDa8jwS3mV8IqyJVvZR_9JNP5SHlLuGdWiIX1a_B7yA3zHXkas0xiWbaJ7AZp1hOeg/s1600/106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9Oy9ujb7xQ0VvD3SS-uMpuNIIZQ8KE5faoLiTWa3JnoVYA1vOQmx1ziAeLmynb4W9GEh8BOCHdDa8jwS3mV8IqyJVvZR_9JNP5SHlLuGdWiIX1a_B7yA3zHXkas0xiWbaJ7AZp1hOeg/s320/106.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed to the beach!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-18814856901408305992011-05-06T10:53:00.000-07:002011-05-06T12:14:33.843-07:00A Good Man!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGILu60f4N22dyt3o6geG2stv5dPzVoKwy859B-pk2SPVgt-cxSdL8TftVwtA0qEp02SAYWRfps9rIp5W3c_t1i2eeqQSz7OefhJnyFN9IOqXLhMNIUzgNA1YoE-v_E4mclEGzeearo_0/s1600/219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGILu60f4N22dyt3o6geG2stv5dPzVoKwy859B-pk2SPVgt-cxSdL8TftVwtA0qEp02SAYWRfps9rIp5W3c_t1i2eeqQSz7OefhJnyFN9IOqXLhMNIUzgNA1YoE-v_E4mclEGzeearo_0/s320/219.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Ladies, let me tell you, I am truly blessed! And I tend to take it for granted. I have a good man. Some women may find someone like Mark too abrasive. He can be, hmmm...loud. Sometimes to the point of causing embarrassment! Like the time we attended my cousins wedding in a very reserved Catholic church. Mark felt the need to give a <strike>hearty,</strike> booming (and very deep) "AMEN" each time the priest finished a prayer. This, causing the brides side of the church to turn in unison in search of the rabble rouser from the grooms side. He's a big guy, and is known for his lack of neck. It matches his voice and the size of his personality. He's the guy who will create a scene at Wall Mart to embarrass his kids. He shows no hesitation at using his voice to call for a family member in frozen foods while he is in the auto parts department! While appearing horrified in the store, the kids chuckle at his behavior once removed from the scene of the outburst.<br />
Touchy, feeley and emotional are not his style. It doesn't mean he doesn't care. He's not one to send flowers, but he will call me a couple of times a day just to see how it's going or to tell me he loves me. Other men look forward to a week away at deer camp with their buddies, my husband takes his wife and kids because he likes having us around! And I am happy to go. He doesn't plan romantic, candlelit dinners, but he will spend a day walking through an art fair with me just because he knows it makes me happy!<br />
When he does get emotional, pay attention! Because it's few and far between, and usually very poignant. We had just such an evening up at camp. A snort or two of Brandy, and dad was sharing all kinds of insights by the fire! The kids know their dad loves them, he tells them all the time. But usually they spend their time with him goofing around. It was by the fire on our last night that I sat back and watched as Mark had total control of his audience. He shared with them how proud he was of their accomplishments, how they had passed him in ability on differing accounts. Of how much he loved each of them and why. Then he told my sons how special I am. How he couldn't imagine living out our future without me. How lucky they all are to have me as mom.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> No mothers day gift, jewelry or flowers could have meant more to me than that evening by the fire. We've been married twenty one years and I love him more each year!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-21927955623921111042011-04-28T09:16:00.000-07:002011-04-28T14:01:28.239-07:00Strange Things You Find in the Woods!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When we are Up North, we love to wander through the woods. I am always fascinated by what I find! Coming home from dinner one night, (if you haven't tried the "Potato Burger" at the Bluffs on Black Lake, you are missing out!) we decided to wander down a 2 track. This at the prompting of our eldest son who has just gotten his drivers permit and will look for any excuse to spend some extra time behind the wheel. A couple of miles off the main road was where we spotted this red caboose!! Complete with tracks to rest upon! Someone seems to be using it as a hunting cabin. BRILLIANT! But just <strong><em>how</em></strong> did they get it there???</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKQoYAtVtKzp7OGwVNiSoEc2UPcvBYFisLCgF1Jc8B064ORidRkuPQQRM-48Bk6FZE_NevwawfX4WotLylrl2CK29eCOYIILNib9f4ftso7RqVYgdZ5DZfdai2W3rSKNsAPW8NJHjCTQ/s1600/311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKQoYAtVtKzp7OGwVNiSoEc2UPcvBYFisLCgF1Jc8B064ORidRkuPQQRM-48Bk6FZE_NevwawfX4WotLylrl2CK29eCOYIILNib9f4ftso7RqVYgdZ5DZfdai2W3rSKNsAPW8NJHjCTQ/s320/311.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mark and I took a quad ride on one of the warmer mornings we had. We will frequently pull off, park and explore some trail that leads to a hunting cabin or food plot. I love coming across an abandoned cabin and concocting a story based on what I find when I peek through the windows. However, the following structure stumped me! I can't imagine <em>what</em> it was used for. It's not a buck pole. And it wasn't in a location that appeared to make it useful for anything other than an interesting photo.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQgu308x342eJaDRIS7ScbHfeuMqYbi_ZM3VHC1WqI52K6vPs9qfiVvODQcSFOOuVmP1-teQfuawkhgUoWOYw6uae_1EgpGQBPFOUAsoF3i-sYnD_ayXf3kVhdrNcUJ-6JBvwaHSkJa8/s1600/316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQgu308x342eJaDRIS7ScbHfeuMqYbi_ZM3VHC1WqI52K6vPs9qfiVvODQcSFOOuVmP1-teQfuawkhgUoWOYw6uae_1EgpGQBPFOUAsoF3i-sYnD_ayXf3kVhdrNcUJ-6JBvwaHSkJa8/s320/316.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This sits amongst some other appliances not far off a main paved road. It appears that this section of woods is where people get rid of their old appliances when they don't have the motivation to drive them five miles to the dump. I find it amusing that their kitchen renovation covered several decades!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0UVbB3EHrEPVZay2V_I0xTnlt8iThtWfhGzURb2pDJ6sRcabyMA3sB7566Y6ITIXQ_r9aF_Mvp0GOEGH8GHwlWRkVrS8x21qyG8vvUXABoUsV09Wl2PrSsq4Am6ET8aNa3ZOZwpff_w/s1600/319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0UVbB3EHrEPVZay2V_I0xTnlt8iThtWfhGzURb2pDJ6sRcabyMA3sB7566Y6ITIXQ_r9aF_Mvp0GOEGH8GHwlWRkVrS8x21qyG8vvUXABoUsV09Wl2PrSsq4Am6ET8aNa3ZOZwpff_w/s320/319.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here is the updated oven/cook stove. Nothing but large appliances, and one coffee cup still sitting on top! (Okay, it was on it's side, and I sat it upright, but it was still on top of the stove!) Why the mug?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71sjJrzF2sQtUOTsyMylSC9B4CLYYScLrt1bWEooYgs0YUUmp8qXRQICH-j9XbHMjHdzmb4N_FVZzP6q77syy9Fu_vDQJmYDQF6gkMdRHyXs8o7p7xnuSTVT_T5nhbxd_5N2UN1shUUA/s1600/320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71sjJrzF2sQtUOTsyMylSC9B4CLYYScLrt1bWEooYgs0YUUmp8qXRQICH-j9XbHMjHdzmb4N_FVZzP6q77syy9Fu_vDQJmYDQF6gkMdRHyXs8o7p7xnuSTVT_T5nhbxd_5N2UN1shUUA/s320/320.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The tub sits alone, deeper into the woods, on the side of an old logging trail. It really must have taken some effort to get it out there. It's in a pretty spot. I always wanted an old tub on legs. I think it would be kinda fun to take a bath there! Wonder if the loggers did...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ0VnITZNyIttwrd2AIV5je-o-XRwwX1ZzfsnGda6pBeCvTQrq9giriheOkMFAtdgvm2ll7_eGQxIKxeseq78aIRE0cFdqT2sjllk86wdaEZWPp5sbUMNljaDP25_NlSSbGVFtzpHl20U/s1600/321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ0VnITZNyIttwrd2AIV5je-o-XRwwX1ZzfsnGda6pBeCvTQrq9giriheOkMFAtdgvm2ll7_eGQxIKxeseq78aIRE0cFdqT2sjllk86wdaEZWPp5sbUMNljaDP25_NlSSbGVFtzpHl20U/s320/321.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-23285414459391024942011-04-27T13:02:00.000-07:002011-04-27T13:32:25.935-07:00Wings!Let me share with you a north woods delicacy. Forget the Easter ham, forget the cheesy taters, give me deep fried chicken wings cooked outside with some hot sauce and three cheese ranch and some good company around the campfire. Ohhh the smell! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4A3JqyI7-kAzY3zxgvpeQ8O7qK4OIn6SyNOXxHg9rTIAVj6H811IOV_P4T65IcwdRjrOPt_wd_n4ovCQkHJNcC0wcM3kzj0RkjWXKplLZgaaBe4uhjoVahLOkiC93JRwKBZNtRgJDzL4/s1600/289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4A3JqyI7-kAzY3zxgvpeQ8O7qK4OIn6SyNOXxHg9rTIAVj6H811IOV_P4T65IcwdRjrOPt_wd_n4ovCQkHJNcC0wcM3kzj0RkjWXKplLZgaaBe4uhjoVahLOkiC93JRwKBZNtRgJDzL4/s320/289.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The smell of wings in the deep fryer fills the air!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It really <em>is</em> an event, as it is a process that takes time and is best shared. While the oil heats and you begin the first batch of potatoes, it's a good time for conversation! All while you anticipate the feast to come. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU40oPx2_PMgFe_6Atco6IgM_mQKawfJXQ-qSXSRCoZEn54c982CfyFh987Y8imL9ZoNp5AYRVjAz0Xi96ZtOkbwN-tmf51pNJZoRPVjT_hHSEb0NIgbI_DvHVjlbVj5Inn_0pgIPKZoU/s1600/291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU40oPx2_PMgFe_6Atco6IgM_mQKawfJXQ-qSXSRCoZEn54c982CfyFh987Y8imL9ZoNp5AYRVjAz0Xi96ZtOkbwN-tmf51pNJZoRPVjT_hHSEb0NIgbI_DvHVjlbVj5Inn_0pgIPKZoU/s320/291.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't need a fancy buffet. This will suit me just fine.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtgORZHKOsH1cnRi7ClnY258ITB0nTjneZJ4Lau8cLiXF6ncaZT-b67v_T_Iw2FDyD5EOPPHhHa-rPjGLAgbNf5Ojfy2q3Zg3o_5I2lKXj4MZWd7Vu3W5VrlLduDarE_-sCvZyDuCVsU/s1600/292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtgORZHKOsH1cnRi7ClnY258ITB0nTjneZJ4Lau8cLiXF6ncaZT-b67v_T_Iw2FDyD5EOPPHhHa-rPjGLAgbNf5Ojfy2q3Zg3o_5I2lKXj4MZWd7Vu3W5VrlLduDarE_-sCvZyDuCVsU/s320/292.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finger lickin' good!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The neighbors dog, Vlado, used to pick the bones out of the campfire. I learned not to worry that he would choke after the third bach of wings!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq737Qcz6Sjux9T0404UgUSZaaSsjGZTZnGkGfTcQWdRTSv6JQCuVKgc_IA6ny4booyWlQNgfgTMuNbiYtoTO0TP5Dce1d2AOFb9cRAEUSLs0RM_wc889hX16p3KXlm4MPGNK966yHy38/s1600/293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq737Qcz6Sjux9T0404UgUSZaaSsjGZTZnGkGfTcQWdRTSv6JQCuVKgc_IA6ny4booyWlQNgfgTMuNbiYtoTO0TP5Dce1d2AOFb9cRAEUSLs0RM_wc889hX16p3KXlm4MPGNK966yHy38/s320/293.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how we do it...</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3w7l51J5gpH5zH72yYSqW3TrpxjkV_peg52QCaKO9riWTOxVqig6sEgAqplpwLbSzGC6Y_DivLquQyKXqsvihDlXDFoPepjxM3xiPisHcEVRgnAahR_a-wmQoVy1xmnzp_CULqLsNDjA/s1600/294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3w7l51J5gpH5zH72yYSqW3TrpxjkV_peg52QCaKO9riWTOxVqig6sEgAqplpwLbSzGC6Y_DivLquQyKXqsvihDlXDFoPepjxM3xiPisHcEVRgnAahR_a-wmQoVy1xmnzp_CULqLsNDjA/s320/294.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ya have to find a good box to shake it up with the season salt!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2BATkcj0RFwsz2idwhlJkrPGeNoCfW41q5G4C3O_5yHxzphlkhlIlz12cI0xpR6o7vkyfY22ghsSBp7IU7dWuYey3_PpM_PpU3_e6w5JVFaRvjNyNmMU8LuO0bFWO8RNd0lDuHN1Qzs/s1600/295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2BATkcj0RFwsz2idwhlJkrPGeNoCfW41q5G4C3O_5yHxzphlkhlIlz12cI0xpR6o7vkyfY22ghsSBp7IU7dWuYey3_PpM_PpU3_e6w5JVFaRvjNyNmMU8LuO0bFWO8RNd0lDuHN1Qzs/s320/295.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>A fine "Up North" tradition started many years ago with good friends. THIS is gourmet! By the way, keep your fingers away from the kid's mouths, you might lose one!!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-15489545134403089842011-04-14T21:10:00.000-07:002011-04-14T21:21:16.967-07:00Small Town I was born in Massachusetts, in a small town. My parents grew up there and were high school sweethearts. When I was 10, we moved away. My dad's job transferred him first to N.Y. and then to Michigan. I finished out high school in a very transient community. Everyone was from somewhere else. I yearned for a sense of belonging. I longed for a sense of pride in where I was from, because I never felt I was from anywhere. I liked to hear my dads stories of growing up in a big family in a small town. They knew <em>everyone</em>! <br />
About a year ago, I got a message in my facebook inbox. I had recently posted on the fan page of the same small town my parents grew up in. The message was from a childhood friend that, if I were to hazard a guess, I haven't seen in perhaps 35 years. Our parents had been close friends and their families knew each other. And then, (it gets better!) he sent photos!! What a gift he gave with those photos. A link to childhood.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNj_ExM2jdq6HfJsv2cYM7qhrkkZ4aAZPBKSfU69S_QIf-AvmiqPTjNL5a4CqVvVzT0WpVW97q5XUVr6rlzJsF8OULQ9G-AjiEE-dzBA-aRO7hcvZfAFa4rMPsibj2Yh7cMVUt926gBE/s1600/May+31%252C1971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNj_ExM2jdq6HfJsv2cYM7qhrkkZ4aAZPBKSfU69S_QIf-AvmiqPTjNL5a4CqVvVzT0WpVW97q5XUVr6rlzJsF8OULQ9G-AjiEE-dzBA-aRO7hcvZfAFa4rMPsibj2Yh7cMVUt926gBE/s320/May+31%252C1971.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Funny, we live in an urban community. But it's where my husband grew up. However, we still long for a small town. I guess that's why we bought property where we did, far away from the city. (Hoping one day to call it home!) Maybe it's the mindset I long for. Or the slow pace. The sense of community. Maybe I romanticize it too much. That small town my parents grew up in isn't small anymore. I guess no matter where you live, it's the relationships you build that make it home. I have good friends that make my big town feel a little cozier.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-5149179107699061592011-04-11T21:06:00.000-07:002011-04-11T21:06:42.469-07:00Campfire<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">Cracklin' fire<br />
Neath' a canopy of trees</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">Big bright moon</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">Shining in between the leaves</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><div style="color: #cc6600; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">Pitch black sky</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">'Cept a smathering of stars</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">Break out the bubbly</span></strong></span></div><div style="color: #cc6600; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">And the cuban cigars</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><div style="color: #cc6600; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">Breathe in deep</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">All that smoky cedar wood</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">This is nature at its finest</span></strong></span></div><div style="color: #cc6600; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;">Life has never been so good!</span></strong></span></div><div style="color: #cc6600; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc6600; font-size: 130%;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: x-large;"></span></strong></span> </div><div style="color: #cc6600; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #cc6600;"><span style="color: black;">Blogger friend Debby kindly let me post her poem which I thought summed up most of our campfires so well! Check out her blog...</span></span></div><div style="color: #cc6600; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #cc6600;"><a href="http://poetryandparadise.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2010-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&updated-max=2011-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=7">http://poetryandparadise.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2010-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&updated-max=2011-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=7</a></span></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"> </div></div></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-88384020402264562742011-04-07T04:48:00.000-07:002011-04-07T05:38:52.898-07:00Just a Boy<b><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I was reminded of this poem today. When I was expecting my first (a boy) my sister copied a poem found at Durgin Park in Boston. I have it packed away...somewhere! I managed to find it online.</span></b> <br />
<b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times;"></span></b> <br />
<b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times;">Just a Boy</span></b> <br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Get to understand the lad,</b> <br />
<b>He's not eager to be bad.</b> <br />
<b>If the right he always knew,</b> <br />
<b>He would be as old as you.</b> <br />
<b>Were he now exceedingly wise,</b> <br />
<b>He'd be just about your size.</b> <br />
<b>When he does things that annoy,</b> <br />
<b>Don't forget he's just a boy.</b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Could he know and understand,</b> <br />
<b>He would need no guiding hand.</b> <br />
<b>But he's young and hasn't learned,</b> <br />
<b>How life's corners must be turned.</b> <br />
<b>Doesn't know from day to day,</b> <br />
<b>There is more to life but play.</b> <br />
<b>More to face than selfish joy,</b> <br />
<b>Don't forget he's just a boy.</b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Being just a boy he'll do much,</b> <br />
<b>You will not want him to.</b> <br />
<b>He'll be careless in his ways,</b> <br />
<b>Having his disobedient days.</b> <br />
<b>Willful, wild and headstrong too,</b> <br />
<b>He'll need guidance, kind and true.</b> <br />
<b>Things of value he'll destroy,</b> <br />
<b>But reflect - he's just a boy.</b> </span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZ6wPty_2Nv_Ds5ysNTSS5oaRwT19YHDzxtlItn_9oEyw9wwDeVSODZ4T-Wa5-sIUDDxVzf5GUU2F76KOKGijDH0sMhDQSsaxZOJC3qa4J4MIwJNSAP9FcpDMJz-Vxo2pHqrhlcHckzY/s1600/IMG_0058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZ6wPty_2Nv_Ds5ysNTSS5oaRwT19YHDzxtlItn_9oEyw9wwDeVSODZ4T-Wa5-sIUDDxVzf5GUU2F76KOKGijDH0sMhDQSsaxZOJC3qa4J4MIwJNSAP9FcpDMJz-Vxo2pHqrhlcHckzY/s320/IMG_0058.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a boy and Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Just a boy who needs a friend,</b> <br />
<b>Patient, kindly to the end.</b> <br />
<b>Needs a father who will show him,</b> <br />
<b>The things he wants to know.</b> <br />
<b>Take him with you when you walk,</b> <br />
<b>Listen when he wants to talk.</b> <br />
<b>His companionship enjoy -</b> <br />
<b>Don't forget he's just a boy</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">~author unknown</span>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-81034260027306460942011-04-04T19:56:00.000-07:002011-04-06T13:18:10.506-07:00Swedish Bread I'm making Swedish bread. It was one of my grandmother's recipes. We aren't Swedish, but Gram was known far and wide for her Swedish coffee bread. It is spoken of in hushed tones and with reverence. Not all family members have made it successfully, creating questions. Was the recipe obtained from the original source? Was there something left out? Why did hers turn out, and mine didn't? Government documents are handled with less care!<br />
As a child, I remember my grandmother being a very busy woman! She was the mother to seven sons, the youngest being only four years older than me. She also worked nights as a nurse in a hospital for the mentally ill. She earned the title "General" and wore it proudly. But when we were kids, she didn't have a lot of extra time for me. She was still busy raising her family, and doing it on her own after my grandfather passed. When she did have time, we had already moved away. I always wished we lived closer, like the other cousins did. And as an adult, I wondered if they knew how lucky they were to have her so close by.<br />
My grandmother would make a yearly "Great Lakes Tour". I remember her doing this several years in a row when I was newly married. She would visit family in the Cleveland area, come through Michigan, then off to see relatives in upstate NY. I loved that she would always spend a night or two with me! We would sit up late at night (usually with Kahlua and milk!) and she would tell me stories. She would tell me of her courtship with my grandfather. Visiting an aunts farm and sleeping in the summer kitchen. She'd tell me about raising her family. I can picture her sitting on our chair in the corner, and our dog (a Boxer named Newt) climbing up on Grams lap for some love! She was a dog person!! And I would keep asking questions until the wee hours of the morning! I loved hearing of her life. I made time for her, and she for me. <br />
I was fortunate because I got to know her as an adult. Something most people don't have the opportunity to do with a grandparent. I got to know her far more intimately than I did as a child. And when she came to visit, she taught me how to make Swedish Coffee Bread. She would make it at holidays, and give it away, taking orders from all over the country. It's with sweet memories of late night conversations that I make bread for Easter morning.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy64dpoSmjWsA-dmAgKyadJe8LoeGrjaUhf1UBhtzmNLo5yEtq3KXNiJ_NQNVQVao4s4Bi1OezIA7meExydnKYmy8BCXrxm8D3R1eBpjR8K9CmtIw_wtJwwamnKNUTcGh57xLqjuq3CvM/s1600/IMG_0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy64dpoSmjWsA-dmAgKyadJe8LoeGrjaUhf1UBhtzmNLo5yEtq3KXNiJ_NQNVQVao4s4Bi1OezIA7meExydnKYmy8BCXrxm8D3R1eBpjR8K9CmtIw_wtJwwamnKNUTcGh57xLqjuq3CvM/s320/IMG_0003.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gram and I (1990)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2485235901983377796.post-20651205344565941322011-04-04T13:33:00.000-07:002011-04-04T13:33:02.507-07:00That's My King: Do You Know Him?<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Q6wL1IvMuWo?fs=1" width="425"></iframe>Definately a favorite. Especially at Easter! Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06682887541039701411noreply@blogger.com0