<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134</id><updated>2012-01-16T10:57:21.557-07:00</updated><category term='cooking'/><category term='road trip'/><category term='sounds'/><category term='Zen'/><category term='consolation'/><category term='brain development'/><category term='community'/><category term='new traditions'/><category term='hosting'/><category term='nature'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='art'/><category term='solstice'/><category term='date'/><category term='stepmom'/><category term='special needs'/><category term='little things'/><category term='honeymoon'/><category term='creativity'/><category term='sauces'/><category term='memories'/><category term='hiking'/><category term='blasting music'/><category term='Temple Grandin'/><category term='spring'/><category term='bird'/><category term='tears'/><category term='family'/><category term='new year'/><category term='pets'/><category term='dads'/><category term='father&apos;s day'/><category term='classical'/><category term='ham'/><category term='Rocky Mountain National Park'/><category term='stepson'/><category term='learning'/><category term='jul'/><category term='lessons learned'/><category term='kids'/><category term='friends'/><category term='folk'/><category term='firsts'/><category term='spouse'/><category term='geese'/><category term='women'/><category term='children'/><category term='me time'/><category term='bluegrass'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='boredom'/><category term='newlywed'/><category term='random'/><category term='new beginnings'/><category term='migration'/><category term='music'/><category term='moms'/><category term='dog'/><category term='depression'/><category term='stepkids'/><category term='kids-free weekend'/><category term='parents'/><category term='Grand Lake'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='nurturing'/><category term='autumn'/><category term='holidays'/><category term='entertainment'/><category term='husband'/><category term='family tree'/><category term='coffee'/><category term='stepmoms'/><category term='stepfamily'/><category term='love'/><category term='Mother&apos;s Day'/><category term='fathers'/><title type='text'>It's the Little Things</title><subtitle type='html'>I have always been a believer that genuine happiness is found in the countless little things we encounter every day. Joy can be found in a rainstorm. Love can transpire with a fleeting touch. Those little moments can be easy to miss; but, once you tune into them, your life can change.

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I am newly married to a wonderful husband and a stepmom to two kids. These three people in my life are inspiring new daily reflections and challenges.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-3052821142700762301</id><published>2010-11-01T14:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T14:18:17.693-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The pleasures of fall</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Wow - it has been awhile since I posted. Too long. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;In the spirit of celebrating life's little things, I just want to stop and remember some of the simple pleasures of fall: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* Homemade caramel apples&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* Mashed squash that is almost as sweet as candy even without adding brown sugar (carnival squash - yum!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* Toasted pumpkin seeds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* Crunching through fallen leaves (at 35, I still veer toward leaves rather than away from them, because I love the sound) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* The first fireplace fire of the season&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* Red wine&lt;br /&gt;* Good books and curling up inside while the wind rages outside &lt;br /&gt;* Sweaters&lt;br /&gt;* Jeans&lt;br /&gt;* Indian Summer days when the sunshine feels so good &lt;br /&gt;* More sleep because it's darker (morning and night) and you just can't keep your eyes open&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* Decorating the house with crafty, pretty things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* More time to spend inside, cuddled on the couch with your partner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Here's hoping that fall brings many wonderful things to your family.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-3052821142700762301?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/3052821142700762301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/11/pleasures-of-fall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3052821142700762301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3052821142700762301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/11/pleasures-of-fall.html' title='The pleasures of fall'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-6764563100836124956</id><published>2010-08-17T16:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T16:54:18.676-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Music appreciation - start young</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C. and I attended a three-day folk music festival this past weekend. It's the same festival where we officially fell in love two years ago (it rained on us for eight hours that year -- it was sunny and perfect this year), so it will always be something special for us -- and something that is just ours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Many people in attendance brought their children. C. and I discussed it, and we decided there are a few&amp;nbsp;windows of childhood when that works -- infancy up to about a year (maybe age 2)&amp;nbsp;and then again after about age 12. This conclusion was based mostly on observation of the children in the 3-11 range. The younger set were hot and tired -- and whiny as a result (who can blame them? Twelve hours in the sun is a long, long time!). The older ones just couldn't keep still or quiet -- and many of them made endless demands for food, face painting and treats. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;There were a few notable exceptions. A family near us had two boys --&amp;nbsp;I'd guess they were about 8 and 10 --&amp;nbsp;and they were delightful. They listened quietly. They played board games with the adults. They read their books. I noticed one of them wearing a science fair t-shirt, and it made me wonder if children who are drawn to science are better able to cope with adult events like a music festival. Is it because their minds are more easily occupied with ideas and observation?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I think it's wonderful to expose children to music. I wish parents did more of that, but a lot of these children didn't even listen to the music. Most of them were off chasing friends or playing in the nearby creek. (At $35+ per ticket, that's some expensive play time.) It made me wish the parents would make them just sit - and just listen - even for a little while. I really think children are more capable of appreciating culture than their parents&amp;nbsp;expect. They are also more capable of being respectful and polite than anyone seems to demand anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;In any case, C. and I won't be bringing his kids or our future children to this particular festival. This one is ours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;However, it&amp;nbsp;did inspire me to expose the kids to &amp;nbsp;more art, music and culture and help them appreciate the beauty of observation and quiet enjoyment -- as a nice contrast and balance to their much-needed noisy playtime. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-6764563100836124956?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/6764563100836124956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/08/music-appreciation-start-young.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/6764563100836124956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/6764563100836124956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/08/music-appreciation-start-young.html' title='Music appreciation - start young'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-1578196755677197684</id><published>2010-07-07T14:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T14:28:10.320-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='firsts'/><title type='text'>Firsts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Nothing really compares to experiencing something for the first time. There's a feeling of stepping outside yourself, of growing, of starting new adventures. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We often think of firsts in terms of childhood: First smile, first solid food, first steps, first day of school...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Or even adolescence and early adulthood: First kiss, first love, first day of college, first roommate...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Whenever I experience a first as an adult, I am always pleasantly reminded that "new" is not reserved for the young. Life can be new every day when we step outside our comfort zones to learn something new, try something new, see something new. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;For me, this week, I went fishing for the first time. I grew up in a state known for its outdoor beauty and where fishing is old hat for many people, but I had never dropped a line in the water. Not once. Not even in a stocked pond as a little kid. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/TDTjSr59kDI/AAAAAAAAADM/mswSPUuZDaE/s1600/fish2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rw="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/TDTjSr59kDI/AAAAAAAAADM/mswSPUuZDaE/s320/fish2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;So, at 35, I donned a pair of waders (what fun to wade through the water and not get a bit wet or cold!) in full Gorton Fisherman glory. C. and I hired a (very patient) guide to take us fly fishing, and we had a wonderful time enjoying the scenery, the breezes and the challenge of casting and presenting the fly in just the right way to attract the picky trout. I actually reeled in two fish and snagged another that got away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I held one of the slimy, writhing&amp;nbsp;fish in my hands for the first time before releasing it back into the water. I felt about 12 years old - and what a good feeling that was. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-1578196755677197684?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/1578196755677197684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/07/firsts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1578196755677197684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1578196755677197684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/07/firsts.html' title='Firsts'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/TDTjSr59kDI/AAAAAAAAADM/mswSPUuZDaE/s72-c/fish2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-7947934567237324189</id><published>2010-06-22T11:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T11:18:42.994-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dads'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fathers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='father&apos;s day'/><title type='text'>Post-Father's Day Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Father's Day is one of those bittersweet days around our house. C. lost his dad two years ago, so of course Father's Day is a reminder of that loss. C. also doesn't get to see his kids as often as he would like, so that's a bit bittersweet as well. I am guessing here, but I think it's also hard for him to feel good about being a good parent -- one who sets boundaries and disciplines his kids -- because he doesn't want that to be the only thing his kids know and remember about him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Because his kids are not my kids, I have a unique perspective on his parenting, though. I think I see things that he doesn't even realize. I think C. is a wonderful father -- &lt;em&gt;especially&lt;/em&gt; because he does offer them boundaries and consequences. I think they are learning some excellent life skills from him because of that. I think there are far too many parents out there these days who are not willing to say "no" to their children for fear of being the bad guy. Really, it's just good parenting that helps shape children into self-sufficient, functioning adults. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I told C. this weekend that I don't remember all of my childhood, but there are some very specific and strong memories that I have about each parent. Since we're talking about dads, I'll focus on my memories about my dad from my childhood: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;He was/is the king of road trips -- he could drive straight through for 21 hours. Some of my best memories from childhood are of those road trips. He organized all the family bike rides. He made really thick hamburgers and pots of spaghetti sauce with nine cloves of garlic. He loved to cook for us. He loved/loves to read and I think my love of reading came from his example. When I got a little older - 10 or 11 - he would talk to me about philosophy and religion, and he listened to my opinion and my persepctive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As for C., I think his kids will remember his blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes. Annie* will remember him teaching her to ride her bike. They will remember long hours swimming and diving and playing with Daddy at the pool. His funny faces and voices. His bedtime reminders to them that they are "smart, strong, handsome/beautiful and funny." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Dads have amazing gifts to give their children that are different from moms' gifts. I hope all you dads out there realize that you have a unique role in the lives of your children. You matter -- a lot. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I also just want to stop to remember the people who have lost their fathers, as well as those men who would like to be fathers but can't be for whatever reason (infertility doesn't just affect women physically and emotionally - the men feel it, too). Father's Day is hard for them, so be gentle.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;* Names have been changed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-7947934567237324189?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/7947934567237324189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/06/post-fathers-day-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/7947934567237324189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/7947934567237324189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/06/post-fathers-day-thoughts.html' title='Post-Father&apos;s Day Thoughts'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-8568260919067475388</id><published>2010-06-08T11:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T12:47:28.472-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepfamily'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family tree'/><title type='text'>Family Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;On Sunday, C. and I took the kids out to C.'s grandmother's property on the state line (a two-hour drive). She passed away a little more than a month ago and we missed the funeral because we were out of the country. She was 91 and lived a long, eventful life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We planted some flowers under a tree on her property and then visited her grave and placed flowers there. She is buried next to her husband who passed away in 1971. Her parents are buried next to them - they passed away in the mid 60s. After we left the grave, we talked to C.'s aunt and uncle for awhile - and his uncle was telling stories about his dad (C.'s grandpa) from WWII and after. It was pretty amazing stuff. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C. has been doing some research on his dad's side of the family -- this grandmother was his dad's mom. He has managed to trace one branch back to before the Revolution in Virginia. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I love that C. is so interested in family history. It has always been an interest and passion of mine - to know where I came from and what makes our family tick. Both my mom's and dad's families are traced back to at least the mid 1700s, if not earlier. I like being able to look back at those colonial Americans, those Germans and those Swedes and feel a sense of our personal history. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bgsu.edu/departments/greal/llc/germanwq/germ_101_wq_01/images/family%20tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" qu="true" src="http://www.bgsu.edu/departments/greal/llc/germanwq/germ_101_wq_01/images/family%20tree.jpg" width="163" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;However, C.'s family tree research is leaving me feeling a touch melancholy. You see, we are married, but we don't yet have children together. We have a small little branch on the family tree - just the two of us. Yet, his kids' mother will always be on his family tree (with a dotted line for the divorce, I suppose) because of my stepchildren. That branch will go on, assuming my stepkids have children of their own, no matter what. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Because we never know what the future will hold, I can't be certain that our little branch will go on. I am happy that, for now, it's just us two -- but I do think I'd like to see what a combination of&amp;nbsp;his family and my family creates.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Related to that, my dad is the last in our family with our family name. My parents had all girls.&amp;nbsp;I think there are some distant cousins carrying on the family name, but it's the&amp;nbsp;end of it on our branch of the tree. I kept my maiden name as a second middle name for that reason. I don't want&amp;nbsp;my parents' family histories to disappear just because I got married and took my husband's name. Not only am I part of C.'s family tree, but he is part of mine.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;Just musing. I guess it is a lot more important to me than I ever knew before.&lt;/span&gt; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-8568260919067475388?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/8568260919067475388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/06/family-tree.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/8568260919067475388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/8568260919067475388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/06/family-tree.html' title='Family Tree'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-9195445765462021429</id><published>2010-05-10T15:50:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T12:47:53.252-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mother&apos;s Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmoms'/><title type='text'>Post-Mother's Day thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Yesterday was Mother's Day. I was fortunate to be able to see my own mom yesterday, and I thank her for her many years of love, wisdom, patience and guidance. I also&amp;nbsp;saw my two sisters (also moms), my brothers-in-law and my four nephews. They are all amazing. C. and his kids joined us, and we had a great time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am not a mom. I am a stepmom. I am the first to tell you that those are two different things -- and that is not a bad thing. I will not get into all the differences here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I do not feel "less than" by not being a mom. I might have my own children someday, and I will be proud to be a mom if I do. I also know that my life is valuable and&amp;nbsp;worthwhile even if I don't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am a woman. I am a human. Both of those titles&amp;nbsp;carry great meaning for me, and I believe that each human being has a special gift to share, and unique lessons to learn,&amp;nbsp;regardless of his or her family status. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;On Father's Day, I will post something similar for the guys, but today I honor all the girls and women I know: Thank you for just being you; thank you for being a gift to the people whose lives you touch - your family, your neighbors, your coworkers...; remember that your life has meaning and never let anyone take that from you by their words or actions; you are worth it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I also want to stop and remember the people who have lost their mothers, as well as the&amp;nbsp;women who would love to be mothers, but who can't be for whatever reason. Mother's Day is especially hard for them, and my heart goes out to them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;To everyone: Bottom line, be aware that the people around you are, for the most part, doing the best they can. Honor who they are and where they are in life. Remember to thank them, not just on one day of the year, but every day. Be kind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We are all in this thing together and we are all different, but equal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-9195445765462021429?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/9195445765462021429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/05/post-mothers-day-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/9195445765462021429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/9195445765462021429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/05/post-mothers-day-thoughts.html' title='Post-Mother&apos;s Day thoughts'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-717545073450603125</id><published>2010-05-07T12:02:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T12:48:14.516-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A break from it all...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C. and I just returned from a most amazing trip to the Canary Islands (part of Spain, but off the western coast of Africa). We stayed on Tenerife and had one night in Madrid on the return trip. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I truly enjoyed the European atmosphere combined with a low-key island lifestyle. We didn't see one other American until the night in Madrid, but we met several Brits and Germans. It was so refreshing to hear people speaking multiple languages and to experience life from a different perspective for several days. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;After an incredibly stressful six months related to blended family issues, I can't even tell you how amazing it was to be away - far away - as just the two of us. Couples can reconnect on vacation in such a deep and meaningful way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I don't have time to post a full trip report now, but I will share a few photos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUcnAyXOI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pk3zvSaPVk/s1600/resort.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUcnAyXOI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pk3zvSaPVk/s320/resort.jpg" tt="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUhQkVd1I/AAAAAAAAACs/NJYv7niVh3k/s1600/2010_04_TenerifeVacation+140%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUhQkVd1I/AAAAAAAAACs/NJYv7niVh3k/s320/2010_04_TenerifeVacation+140%5B1%5D.jpg" tt="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUlKosRJI/AAAAAAAAAC8/gw0sgkEhgC0/s1600/2010_04_TenerifeVacation+134%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUlKosRJI/AAAAAAAAAC8/gw0sgkEhgC0/s320/2010_04_TenerifeVacation+134%5B1%5D.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUm2-BpfI/AAAAAAAAADE/JC-GRKbzywM/s1600/2010_04_TenerifeVacation+214%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUm2-BpfI/AAAAAAAAADE/JC-GRKbzywM/s320/2010_04_TenerifeVacation+214%5B1%5D.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUi7xHfsI/AAAAAAAAAC0/U8cf3rrHedU/s1600/losgigantes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUi7xHfsI/AAAAAAAAAC0/U8cf3rrHedU/s320/losgigantes.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUflz3lwI/AAAAAAAAACk/UIHZuWKBT9o/s1600/ocean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUflz3lwI/AAAAAAAAACk/UIHZuWKBT9o/s320/ocean.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-717545073450603125?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/717545073450603125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/05/break-from-it-all.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/717545073450603125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/717545073450603125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/05/break-from-it-all.html' title='A break from it all...'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/S-RUcnAyXOI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pk3zvSaPVk/s72-c/resort.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-4068398636355995521</id><published>2010-04-23T08:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T12:48:32.557-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bird'/><title type='text'>'It's pouring rain, and he's still singing'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Our house: 5 a.m. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Cheep...&amp;nbsp; cheep ... cheep ... &lt;strong&gt;CHEEP&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Cheep... cheep ... cheep ... &lt;strong&gt;CHEEP&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;For the past several days, a persistent bird has started his (mating?) song well before the sun comes up -- and well before C. or I would like to be awake. Today, it is dumping rain, but he was still out there &lt;em&gt;cheeping&lt;/em&gt;. I imagine a little, puffed up bird trying to hide under whatever leafless branch he can find at this time of year...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dotssmallgallery.net/files/imagecache/gallery/imagecache/gallery/Bird%20in%20Rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.dotssmallgallery.net/files/imagecache/gallery/imagecache/gallery/Bird%20in%20Rain.jpg" tt="true" width="130" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Well, C. jokingly threatened to shoot it with a BB gun. (I love birds, there's no way I would let him.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just said, "It's pouring rain, and he's still singing." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;C.'s Facebook status this morning told me that he got it. A quote: &lt;em&gt;"Some birds sing when the sun shines bright. My praise is not for them but the one who sings in the dead of night. I raise my cup to him. Some flowers bloom when the green grass grows. My praise is not for them but the one who blooms in the bitter snow. I raise my cup to him." - Anais Mitchell&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Indeed. Here's to all the birds singing in the rain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-4068398636355995521?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/4068398636355995521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/04/its-pouring-rain-and-hes-still-singing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4068398636355995521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4068398636355995521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/04/its-pouring-rain-and-hes-still-singing.html' title='&apos;It&apos;s pouring rain, and he&apos;s still singing&apos;'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-3939143356323332869</id><published>2010-04-15T11:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T16:03:23.190-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring'/><title type='text'>Spring!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I LOVE spring. Love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get childishly excited when I see a tulip about to bloom and notice new buds on the trees. For every new flower that comes up in our yard, I run inside to tell C. "Guess what? We have grape hyacinth!" (We have lived in our current house for less than a year, and the previous owner planted a variety of bulbs. Every new flower is like a little surprise gift she left just for me.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I return from walks with my dog to report on the latest builds of the muskrats in the canal (muskrats! I had never seen them before); the current&amp;nbsp;mating phase of the mallards (they have all paired off and found their own nesting sites -- no more hanging out as a flock for awhile); the butterfly cocoons&amp;nbsp;that are about to hatch; the neighborhood cats on the hunt; and the&amp;nbsp;beautiful animals I have seen. (This week, a great blue heron and a pelican. Beautiful!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C. patiently puts up with my&amp;nbsp;giddy reports and responds with a disinterested "uh-huh." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I don't care. (Where's my sticking-my-tongue-out icon?) This trait is something that has not left me&amp;nbsp;since childhood. I love nature. I love animals. I love watching for little changes and reporting on animal sociology. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I rarely invite anyone else on these walks because I know they wouldn't appreciate them. I would also miss out on the details of my surroundings because I would be talking to my husband or a stepkid (or listening to one of the kids' monologues, more likely). These walks are a gift I give myself several times a week - and I hope to continue the practice for many years to come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-3939143356323332869?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/3939143356323332869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/04/spring.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3939143356323332869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3939143356323332869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/04/spring.html' title='Spring!'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-1864011651463907418</id><published>2010-04-05T15:13:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T15:14:22.092-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hosting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ham'/><title type='text'>Random brain break</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am taking a moment to give my brain a break. So, just a few random thoughts on my mind: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Ham. I ate a full piece of ham yesterday for the first time in at least 16 years. I ate it because my husband made it, it's what we were serving for Easter and I was hungry, and I am a little tired of not eating the things that everyone else eats. C. made two kinds - smoked and glazed - and they were both wonderful. (I made scalloped potatoes and glazed pineapples, for anyone who thinks I am a holiday kitchen slacker. I also made a roasted veggie quiche for C. for breakfast.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Sisters. I really, really miss my sisters. They live in the same metro area, but they are 1.5 hours and 45 minutes away, respetively, and I just don't see them as often as I would like. I wonder if this is a byproduct of marriage? Being a newlywed, I'm not sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Friends. Ditto the above for my closest girlfriends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ I need to find a way to see people more often. Maybe we'll make another ham and some scalloped potatoes and have everyone over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ I have never considered myself a great hostess, but I think I do OK as C.'s backup. Maybe we should host more dinner parties in general?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;~ I had a really nice weekend with the stepkids. It was a perfect balance. They spent Easter morning with their mom and it gave C. and&amp;nbsp;me some quiet time, but it was also nice to color eggs with them the night before and to have them for our late afternoon Easter dinner. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-1864011651463907418?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/1864011651463907418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/04/random-brain-break.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1864011651463907418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1864011651463907418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/04/random-brain-break.html' title='Random brain break'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-5328221687793653797</id><published>2010-03-22T10:44:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T10:44:41.813-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Building thanks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am starting week two of a 30-day challenge to say only positive things to and about my husband. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;The challenge encourages vocalizing thanks and praise for all the good things your spouse does - large and small - every day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have always believed in focusing on the bright side. When life is particularly challenging, the bright side for me is often found in the smallest pleasures of everyday life. However, it is still far too easy to fall into the trap of negative thinking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Making a conscious effort to be grateful and vocalize thanks to your spouse every single day forces you to seek out the positive. Some days, it's a bit of a stretch; but I have found something positive to say every day to C. or to my friends and family about C. The result is an overall increased feeling of goodwill, love and affection for my husband. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I believe this practice can be applied to every aspect of life, and I plan to challenge myself to do just that. Work. Stepmotherhood. Commuting. Even the kids' mom (yikes, that will be a challenge; but it will be worth it if it will help me let go of some anger related to her).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Here's a little jazz positivity break to get you in the mood: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;dl style="-moz-box-sizing: border-box; background: #fff; border-bottom: #b1b1b1 1px solid; border-left: #b1b1b1 1px solid; border-right: #b1b1b1 1px solid; border-top: #b1b1b1 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; color: #373737; font: 11px Tahoma, sans-serif; overflow: hidden; width: 426px;"&gt;&lt;dt style="height: 344px; overflow: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lnk0Y12BPNA&amp;amp;feature=youtube_gdata&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lnk0Y12BPNA&amp;amp;feature=youtube_gdata&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dd style="background-image: url(http://www.tsrocks.com/images/youtube.bottom.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; font: 11px/12px Tahoma; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 8px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; text-transform: none;"&gt;Read &lt;h1 style="display: inline; font: bold 11px/12px Tahoma; margin: 0px; padding-right: 3px; text-align: left; text-transform: none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tsrocks.com/b/billie_holiday_texts/the_sunny_side_of_the_street.html" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; color: #373737; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold !important; text-decoration: none;"&gt;The Sunny Side Of The Street Lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;here.&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-5328221687793653797?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/5328221687793653797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/03/building-thanks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/5328221687793653797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/5328221687793653797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/03/building-thanks.html' title='Building thanks'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-3958826960379761533</id><published>2010-03-12T11:06:00.012-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T14:41:37.306-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>Counting by fives</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have reached an age where I have begun to count my life in five-year blocks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I am 35 years old. I was born in a blizzard and arrived at precisely 9 a.m. (my mom and dad called precisely at 9 a.m. today, as they always do) -- smack dab in the middle of a decade my parents describe as one of the most depressing (on a national scale) in their memories. Maybe my arrival was a bit of a bright spot (I'd like to think so).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Thirty-five once sounded so old to me. I am trying not to think of the societal pressure placed on women my age. That's a challenge, when even friends I haven't seen in ages find it acceptable to ask me if I am pregnant yet, seeing as I got married seven months ago and I am "of a certain age."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;All of that aside, I thought it might be a fun exercise to look back at the big lessons learned in each phase of my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;My life lessons from seven blocks of five: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;0-5:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;* I learned how to breathe, crawl, see, grab, yell. I discovered the joy of music and I danced before I walked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* I learned about love and family, mom and dad, and sisters. &lt;br /&gt;* I learned self-expression and lived in my imagination. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6-10:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I felt my first big heartache when my best friend Jennifer moved away after Kindergarten. I cried for days. &lt;br /&gt;* I learned that people laugh at you when you express too much emotion when I read an essay about my new best friend, Eryn, aloud to my second grade class. &lt;br /&gt;* I learned what it meant to be physically hurt when I split my chin open at 8 (used my chin as brakes after flying over my bike handlebars); and again when a&amp;nbsp;girl jumped on my head from the rainbow monkey bars in fourth grade (four broken teeth and I bit through my tongue).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* I experienced the first death of a loved one, our family dog Chinook, when we had to put her down. The second loss came five years later when our next dog was poisoned by the neighbor and died in our family room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;(Trust me, there were happy moments, too -- but these stand out very clearly. I suppose this is the half-decade when I learned that life isn't always fun and games and sometimes hurts.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* I learned the joy of travel and experiencing new places on many long road trips with my family. The journey has often been as interesting as the destination.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11-15:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I learned that books could take me anywhere I ever dreamed of going. &lt;br /&gt;* I learned how to follow my own path when my sisters went away to college, and I found my own voice (which was sometimes counter to everyone else's opinion, and often still is). &lt;br /&gt;* I began to think about the idea of God and started to form my philosophy of life. &lt;br /&gt;* I broke a boy's heart for the first time, and another boy broke my heart for the first time. &lt;br /&gt;* I developed one of the best and most enduring friendships that has been a huge gift in my life (thanks, Cathy). Our entire group of friends at that age helped me feel wanted and accepted and they each taught me something different. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16-20:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I learned the various ways cars crunch and crinkle when hit. (Five accidents between age 17 and 21 - two were my fault). &lt;br /&gt;* I learned what failure felt like; as well as redemption (thanks to four hours per day of summer school; Algebra 2 and Trig - joy)&lt;br /&gt;* I&amp;nbsp;fell in love for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;* I developed another wonderful and enduring friendship that is still so important to me today (thanks, Kari).&lt;br /&gt;* I learned how to sprout wings and explore the world and my own mind when I went away to college.&lt;br /&gt;* I discovered (first at 13, actually, and again at 18) the wonder of international travel -- and how big the world is, but small at the same time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;21-25:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* I entered the real world and learned the value of hard work. &lt;br /&gt;* I learned how to take care of myself from cooking to rent to student loans. &lt;br /&gt;* I learned that it's best to keep a healthy line between business and my personal life. &lt;br /&gt;* I learned how to travel alone and relish it. &lt;br /&gt;* My first nephew was born and I began to experience the joy of children in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26-30:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* Two more nephews were born and my heart grew even bigger. &lt;br /&gt;* I experienced two of my biggest heartbreaks during this time period (same guy both times). The amount of learning and growth that stemmed from that unhealthy relationship sometimes still astounds me. &lt;br /&gt;* I experienced the loss of a close family member for the first time when my grandpa died. My other grandpa passed a year after that and one grandma passed last year. The other grandma is still going strong at 94. I learned the value of history and family, and coming from somewhere from all four of them. &lt;br /&gt;* I followed a winding road both personally and professionally, and I began to learn to value the experience and care less about my "status" (in all senses of the word). &lt;br /&gt;* I grew up so much during that phase and became the most true version of myself yet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31-35: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* I became a homeowner at 31&amp;nbsp;and learned the value of doing it on my own. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. &lt;br /&gt;* I experienced the deep love and affection of my dear family and friends and realized how much they have all been cheering me on all along. &lt;br /&gt;* My fourth nephew was born, and my heart grew even bigger. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* I learned what real love looks like (finally) and married my best friend and the best man I know. He has shown me a new world and has taught me so much about myself, love and the world. He is the best gift I have ever received.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* I became an integral figure in the lives of two children who are teaching me new things each and every day (and my heart has grown even bigger). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I cannot begin to express the level of gratitude I feel for the important people in my life (love to all of you). Each one --&amp;nbsp;from my parents, sisters and nephews&amp;nbsp;to my wonderful husband to my friends at all stages of life -- has brought something unique and special to the world and to my life personally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so happy to be alive. I am so happy to be in the now. I look forward to the next half of this decade of my life -- and more counting by fives as I go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;By random coincidence, this is also my 35th blog post.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-3958826960379761533?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/3958826960379761533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/03/counting-by-fives.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3958826960379761533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3958826960379761533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/03/counting-by-fives.html' title='Counting by fives'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-5411999088198804855</id><published>2010-03-11T11:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T11:48:48.282-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepkids'/><title type='text'>Stepmom little thing meditation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have to start this post by saying how wonderful I think Sandra Bullock is. She is a stepmom to three children (who have two separate moms). One of those moms is an ex-porn star who was recently jailed for tax evasion. Nice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;It was a nice "little thing" for me to see Sandra Bullock win her Oscar this week and to silently celebrate that we stepmoms have a role model and advocate in the celebrity world. Maybe she can help throw some chinks into the armor of the wicked stepmother myth. (Although a quick Google search that pulled up articles about "Stepkids think Bullock is a monster" proves the media-razzi sure&amp;nbsp;aren't helping the fight.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;The life of a stepmom is rarely simple. It can be thankless and full of pressure. Pressure to do right by&amp;nbsp;children in spite of their mother's best efforts to turn them against you&amp;nbsp;(and often your&amp;nbsp;husband); pressure to be sweet and perfect in order to dispel the wicked stepmother myth. You can give and give, only to receive scraps in return. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;In my own life as a stepmom, those everyday "little things" often save me. They are what keep me going. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;The stepmom little things that come to mind: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ A handmade card I received from my stepdaughter that said, "I Love You" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ My stepson saying at piano practice&amp;nbsp;Monday night, "I'm glad A.J. is here" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Both kids yelling "A.J.!" when I come downstairs in the morning; they are actually glad to see me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Knowing in my heart that I am serving as a different kind of role model for them; teaching them self-sufficiency and responsibility&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Knowing that I will always treat the kids with respect and authenticity and will never play with their emotions (as some others in their life do), and that they will appreciate that someday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Giving my stepson a time-out last night while C. was at the store -- and it worked, and he apologized for his behavior. It was a victory moment for me - turns out, I am an authoritative parent. (I took a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://pediatrics.about.com/cs/quizzes/l/bl_prnt_style.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;quiz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Watching my stepdaughter ride her bike alone for the first time -- sharing a 'first' in her life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Watching the kids thrive with the new goal-setting system C. and I implemented at our house. &lt;br /&gt;~ Hearing my stepdaughter read her first book (with just a little help from me) last week. (The edge-of-your seat story of The Red Hen.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Getting a good report from my stepson's new school that he is behaving well and doing well! (Curses to the old school for giving up on him or any child as a lost cause.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;There are a lot more, and I hope I will always stop to remember those moments and small victories. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;There are a lot of challenging moments as a stepmom. I have already been through moments of great despair as a stepmom. It is way harder than anyone tells you it will be (and I think most biological parents would agree with that statement, as well). Yet, this past year has been the biggest year of growth in my life. Those two little ones are, in part, responsible for that -- and I thank them for that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-5411999088198804855?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/5411999088198804855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/03/stepmom-little-thing-meditation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/5411999088198804855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/5411999088198804855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/03/stepmom-little-thing-meditation.html' title='Stepmom little thing meditation'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-5681720538185684527</id><published>2010-02-22T11:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T11:36:37.831-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='special needs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parents'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Temple Grandin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepkids'/><title type='text'>Special (needs) kid</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I haven't posted on this topic before because it is a difficult subject for me to put into words. I doubt this post will be all that coherent, but I really feel the need to write about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Different. I have a stepson who is different. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As a young child (well before I knew him), he was verbally delayed and had some motor issues. Now, as a nine-year-old, he is behind at school -- mostly because he is a different kind of learner, but also because his behavior and lack of typical social skills&amp;nbsp;gets in the way of his success. I could write pages and pages about the tests and so-called "diagnoses" (from autism to anxiety -- but none of them really fit) the professionals have subjected him to. I won't, because I truly believe all the&amp;nbsp;tests in the world won't help him.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;What will help him is a teacher who cares, as well as parents (including me) who&amp;nbsp;reinforce the academic and behavioral work the school is doing.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;He starts at a new school today, and there is some real hope. I have not yet met the teacher, but I plan to. A teacher friend of mine told me, "A.J., you are a parent. The school and teacher don't care if you are a bioparent or a stepparent. You might not even want the title, but you are a parent." She's right - I am one of four responsible adults in my stepson's life and I can have a genuine impact on his life. I want the school and teacher to know who I am and to know that I care. (Whoa! Tears in my eyes as I type that.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C., my husband,&amp;nbsp;has met the regular classroom teacher, special ed director, principal and others at the school who seem to be on board with treating each child as an individual. What works for one won't necessarily work for another. They don't believe in forcing a square peg into a round hole. With the right support and encouragement, I believe my stepson can succeed. He is bright. He is special. He shouldn't be written off just because he is different.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;* * * &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;This weekend, C. and I watched the HBO movie "Temple Grandin." If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.templegrandin.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dr.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Temple Grandin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt; was diagnosed with autism in 1950. She didn't speak until she was four years old. "Professionals" told her mother she never would speak and that she should live in an institution. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Her mother refused to give up on her. She DID speak. She went to school. She learned. She loved science. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://americanradioworks.publicradio.org/features/mcdonalds/images/temple_lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="http://americanradioworks.publicradio.org/features/mcdonalds/images/temple_lg.jpg" width="196" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;In high school, a science teacher became her mentor and she began to thrive. Someone believed in her and showed her that she could do it. She went on to college, earned a master's and eventually her Ph.D. in animal science.&amp;nbsp;She now teaches at Colorado State University and lectures on autism.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;She says she thinks in pictures -- and her autism is one of the reasons she is able to relate to and work with animals. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C. and I had tears streaming down our faces because it hit so close to home -- but also because it showed us so much hope.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;The professionals can tell you, until they are blue in the face, to prepare for boarding school and group homes for a child, because he's different and won't be able to take care of himself later in life. They convince you - yes, even in this highly advanced age - that there is nothing to be done. Why? Because THEY don't know what to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I met my stepson, I have always believed that he would grow up, learn and succeed. I believe he can be self-sufficient. I believe he can have a career and be happy. I refuse to believe that we all should give up on him having dreams because he doesn't fit the norm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I will post more on this later, I am sure. For now, I just want to put out into the universe my best wishes for my stepson, Jonah*. Today is a new beginning for him, and it is a day filled with much hope. Your daddy and I believe in you, kid.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;* Names have been changed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-5681720538185684527?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/5681720538185684527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/special-needs-kid.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/5681720538185684527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/5681720538185684527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/special-needs-kid.html' title='Special (needs) kid'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-277181120816217808</id><published>2010-02-19T10:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T14:57:47.715-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><title type='text'>Snow dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I was home sick yesterday (and the day before), but I started to feel better in the late afternoon. So, I decided to take my dog for a walk. It had started to snow, but wasn't coming down that hard yet -- so I&amp;nbsp;decided to take a chance at walking&amp;nbsp;the long path around the lake in the adjacent neighborhood. By the time we circled half the lake, the snow was really coming down and blowing sideways. My little brown dog was all white and my jeans were soaked through. I felt bad that I had taken her out in that, but really, we both enjoyed it. It was a stunningly beautiful scene and nobody was out... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Save for a little boy (about 8, I would guess) who had stopped at the stream on his way home from school. He was building some elaborate structure using the ice he had broken off the banks of the stream. He said hello, and went on about his serious business -- completely unfazed by the storm. Watching him made me smile. I remember being that intent as a child -- fully engaged in the moment despite the weather or anything else. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I try so hard in my daily life to have those Zen moments -- those moments of truly being in the here and now. The trouble is, adults have to try. Kids just do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Once in awhile, like yesterday's walk with my pup, I have a brief interlude of being fully present -- and it feels amazing. If I can find a way to culitvate that, I truly believe I would be more at peace and more content.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-277181120816217808?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/277181120816217808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/snow-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/277181120816217808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/277181120816217808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/snow-dog.html' title='Snow dog'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-5777079970972386604</id><published>2010-02-08T12:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T12:36:36.975-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dads'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepkids'/><title type='text'>Girl power</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;One of my biggest frustrations with my stepdaughter, Annie*, is her tendency to give up on herself and say "I can't do it!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;She is a smart and capable 5-year-old girl. Most of the time, she CAN do it, but doesn't give herself enough time or have enough confidence to try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;This weekend, she proved me right. She rode a bike without training wheels, solo, for the first time. C. and I gave Jonah* a new bike for his birthday, so Annie was trying out his old one. Turns out, the bigger sized bike was all she needed. C. helped her at first, but then let go and she took off -- balanced perfectly! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I was so excited for her. I remember the first time I rode my bike alone -- when dad let go (ha! yes, figurative and literal in a lot of ways). I was so proud. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Watching her say, "Yes, I can" rather than "No, I can't" was huge. I know she was really proud of herself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Also, it's a big &lt;em&gt;first&lt;/em&gt; that I got to share with her as her stepmom. It didn't happen on mom's time -- it happened on C's and my time with the kids. It was truly a good family moment, with C., Jonah and me all cheering her on.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;*names have been changed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-5777079970972386604?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/5777079970972386604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/girl-power.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/5777079970972386604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/5777079970972386604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/girl-power.html' title='Girl power'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-4694138734621137161</id><published>2010-02-05T11:07:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T14:58:15.543-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creativity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dads'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepkids'/><title type='text'>Creativity (part 2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Society quashes creativity early. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;My drawing instructor made a comment that children don't have to use their imaginations anymore -- everything is already done for them in video games and movies. That made me sad -- because we always think of childhood as this immensely creative and imaginative time. It was for me -- I was always putting on "plays" in the backyard, dressing up like a pioneer girl, writing poetry and making up stories for my dolls. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I really hope children haven't lost that ability entirely. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;When he made that comment, it reminded me of sitting at the table with my stepkids&amp;nbsp;a couple of weeks ago. C. had bought them these amazing "doodle books." They&amp;nbsp;are not&amp;nbsp;your average coloring books. Each page has a small drawing or two in the corner and a question that "starts" a story: What is the dog laughing at? Why is the dinosaur scared? Most of each page is a big, empty space where the kid can draw something from his or her own imagination. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Annie*, who is five, turned to a page that featured a stage outline. It was her job to create her own characters and play on the stage. She promptly drew a boy and a girl and said, "This is the prince and princess." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;SIGH.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Anyone who knows me well knows that I hate the princess myth. (I also hate pink and buying shoes -- I missed a female gene somewhere.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I hate the myth because: a) How many princesses have you ever met in real life? b) Gee, great aspiration; grow up to be pretty and sweet&amp;nbsp;and wait for a man to rescue you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Did I mention that Annie's mom sent her to Princess Camp last summer? Gah!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.catlow.biz/images/books/interior/oodles-of-doodles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="219" kt="true" src="http://www.catlow.biz/images/books/interior/oodles-of-doodles.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;It occurs to me now, though, that I hate it for an even bigger reason. These pervasive stories that we tell our children (princesses for girls and superheroes for boys) are sending a message that these characters are the prototypes on which to base your dreams. The stories are all the same: Pretty girl gets the guy; Strong good guy beats the bad guys. There's little deviation from the original and our children start to regurgitate these stories, rather than &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;creating&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; their own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C., bless him, drew a cactus on Annie's stage and said, "You know, you don't just have to repeat a story you saw in a movie. You can make your own story; maybe it's a prince, a princess and a cactus." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Ooh, and if there's a cactus, maybe they are not even a prince and princess. Maybe they are a cowboy and cowgirl." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;She's a smart girl -- you could see her wheels turning after that. I hope that we can help teach both kids that they are allowed to have their own dreams, tell their own stories, create what they want to create because it comes from inside them and expresses who they are.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Also, I hope to convey that being&amp;nbsp;an average human being is much cooler than being some storybook princess or comic book hero. Average, everyday&amp;nbsp;people are doing amazing things. Life is cool. Let's teach children to see that and enjoy that early. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;* Names have been changed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-4694138734621137161?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/4694138734621137161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/creativity-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4694138734621137161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4694138734621137161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/creativity-part-2.html' title='Creativity (part 2)'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-4138522426708801203</id><published>2010-02-04T13:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T14:58:33.664-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creativity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moms'/><title type='text'>Art and Creativity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am four weeks into a drawing class. (I haven't taken a true drawing or painting class since 8th grade. I thought it would be a good way to recharge my brain.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each week, we have homework. We are learning to tell a story with our drawings, vary perspective and be more keen observers of the world and its details. I did last week's homework on my lunch break the other day, while sitting in Starbuck's; and I felt something I haven't felt in a long, long time -- my creative streak "surged," for lack of a better word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt wonderful! I reconnected with a part of myself that I thought was long gone. I have the ability to see the world in a unique way and express it creatively. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am not a great artist, by any means; but it gives me something to aspire to. I can practice -- and that "practice" time can also serve as time to get to know myself again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Only two of us showed up to class this week, and we were discussing this idea of creativity and making space and time in our lives for art and our passions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;The other lady was lamenting the fact that she feels guilty taking time away from her kids to work on her art. The teacher and I both agreed that she &lt;em&gt;needs&lt;/em&gt; to take that time -- not only does it enrich her own life because she's doing something with passion, but it will ultimately enrich her children's lives. They will benefit from seeing mom excited about something, and they will learn that it is important for all people, even parents, to take time for themselves. At the same time, they will learn to entertain themselves for a bit, while mom is working on her art -- also an incredibly valuable life skill for all humans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart really went out to her (as it does to all moms I know). She gave up her job to stay home with her kids, and she says she feels like she lost herself. Now, she needs to give herself permission to find herself again -- and not feel guilty about it in the least.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-4138522426708801203?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/4138522426708801203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/art-and-creativity.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4138522426708801203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4138522426708801203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/02/art-and-creativity.html' title='Art and Creativity'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-4862170280883271050</id><published>2010-01-31T13:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T10:15:16.625-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Six months</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Today is the two-year anniversary of my first date with C. I remember how I felt when he laughed at a joke I made -- I will always remember the way he smiled and his eyes lit up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Last week was the six-month anniversary of our marriage. I remember telling my dad before we went down the aisle, "This is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; wedding." I beamed as C. shared his beautiful self-written vows with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am so lucky. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have learned so much more from C. than any other romantic partner I have had. He has shown me that:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- love is not reserved for the very young; people with a little more wear on the tread and a little history can find true love together (and I think in a lot of ways, we cherish it a bit more).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- love survives disagreements and different perspectives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- honesty is truly the best policy; I don't have to hold back, I can say what I feel and show who I really am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- that a hug or simple touch can smooth over even the worst day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- I can trust someone - he has my back and I have his.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- being partners sometimes means helping the other person face the uncomfortable in the name of growth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- dreams are better when shared.&lt;br /&gt;- there is so much more to life than work; we have more to accomplish in this life together than earning kudos from the boss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- there is nobody else I would rather wake up to each day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- I am beautiful, even in the morning when I have matted hair and raccoon eyes. :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- I can let someone take care of me; it feels good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- respect is the most important ingredient in any relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- guy humor is actually funny sometimes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- ok, bacon is good. (So much for my vegetarian leanings.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;There's so much more. I just wanted to mark this day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Love is the thing...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-4862170280883271050?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/4862170280883271050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/01/six-months.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4862170280883271050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4862170280883271050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/01/six-months.html' title='Six months'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-3453644077763990382</id><published>2010-01-19T12:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T12:56:01.216-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><title type='text'>Little thing meditation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;It has been a rough couple of weeks, and I am in the midst of a mild depression. I know I will snap out of it, but I'm not quite there yet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;In the meantime, reminding myself of the little things for which I am grateful or just the little things that make me smile, helps. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are my little things from the past several days: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;-- I had a blissful massage and chocolate body wrap on Friday (a gift from C.). During the body wrap, the girl left me alone for about 30 minutes. My mind literally went blank. It was amazing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;-- I took my dog to her favorite dog park yesterday.&amp;nbsp;It is now a 45-minute drive, but so worth it. We have space to actually hike together and she gets to stop and play with the occasional dog. They installed agility equipment since we were last there, and I had fun running her through the course. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;-- After that, I took her to my folks' house -- where I talked to my parents and my dog played for hours with their dog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- I had a four-day weekend. I didn't think about work once. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- I had lunch with my sisters on Friday. I am so thrilled we all live in the same state again and can do that now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;-- C. and I went to the local brewery for dinner Friday night. I enjoyed the brown ale I tried and the time with C. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Yesterday was a beautiful, warm day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;-- I started my drawing class last week. Tonight is my second class. It feels good to do something new - and something that is just for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- I get the house to myself tonight, because C. is traveling. I always miss him when he goes, but I also enjoy some solitude. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- I had a delicious Maine lobster roll on Saturday night when we went out with friends. Yum! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;-- The office is relatively quiet today and I am letting work stuff roll off my back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;--- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Any good little things in your life this week??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-3453644077763990382?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/3453644077763990382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/01/little-thing-meditation.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3453644077763990382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3453644077763990382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/01/little-thing-meditation.html' title='Little thing meditation'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-3530652694453831134</id><published>2010-01-13T12:59:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T16:04:58.704-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmoms'/><title type='text'>Community</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have always longed for a sense of true community. Now that we have moved and life has changed so much, I don't really feel like part of a community at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know my neighbors, and I wouldn't have a clue who to call nearby in an emergency. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am working on new ways to build community that is physically close by. I signed up for a class at an arts&amp;nbsp;organization just down the street. It began last night and there are three other ladies and me. We shall see - it might lead to some new friendships, or even just a closer connection to the organization itself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C. and I are looking into a new gym. Maybe we can meet a few friends there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the flip side, I do have a very strong community of family and friends. Although they don't live close by, they feel close. It makes such a huge difference to know I am connected to them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also found several online communities that have made me feel so welcome. Most recently, I found an online group for other stepmoms. Yay! I really need a group of people who understand the stress and frustrations particular to being a stepmom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a lifelong goal of mine to continue to find and create community. I'm working on it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;If anyone has tried something that has worked, let me know. I'd love some new ideas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-3530652694453831134?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/3530652694453831134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/01/community.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3530652694453831134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3530652694453831134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/01/community.html' title='Community'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-1672859853699161103</id><published>2010-01-04T12:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T12:19:42.602-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new year'/><title type='text'>What 2009 taught me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Happy New Year, everyone. Ringing in a new year always excites me and always makes me reflect on the past one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I had an excellent 2009 -- the economy, the politicians, the media and world chaos be damned. It began with a proposal of marriage from C. at 12:01 on January 1, 2009. It ended with a new year's kiss from my husband (yes, C. -- I did say yes) at 12:00 January 1, 2010. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;The year 2009 taught me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Surprises are just as exciting as an adult as they were in childhood. C.'s proposal was the best surprise I have ever received and he is the best gift I have ever been given. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ There are so many more important things to worry about, so stop stressing about the small things. When I look back to my 2009 freak-outs about save-the-date cards, bridesmaid dresses&amp;nbsp;and refinishing my kitchen cabinets, I just have to shake my head in shame. The year brought many more important events and challenges that were worth my time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Small things matter. Don't stress about them, but enjoy them. Every single day is full of simple, small gifts just waiting to be enjoyed. All it takes is a little patience and attention to notice and savor them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Love is reborn every single day. Don't stop telling your spouse how much you love him/her after the vows have been said. Daily reminders in actions and in words can truly make the difference between a happy marriage and an unhappy one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Time is the best gift. Don't squander it. Use it well. Share it with the people you love first and then carefully choose how to spend the rest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Children are loud. :) They are also full of unfiltered joy, wonder, curiosity, energy and simple wisdom. We have much to learn from them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ You can choose who is important in your life. The naysayers, the back-stabbers and everyone who wishes you ill need not occupy your thoughts for a half second. Choose to give your energy to the people who deserve it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Getting older is liberating. On New Year's Eve this year, I was dressed in warm trousers, boots and a long, heavy coat. The 22-year-olds were dressed in barely-there plunging minis and not even a sweater -- let alone a coat. I was thrilled to be the older, warmer one. ;) I wouldn't go back for a minute. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Learning new things keeps your heart young. I received my SCUBA certification a couple of weeks before our wedding and went on my first official dive on our honeymoon in Hawaii. I can't even explain the feeling of swimming right by a shark and watching giant green sea turtles sleeping underwater. SCUBA was waaayyyy outside my comfort zone, and I am so glad I stuck it out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ You are stronger than you think. You are, trust me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Accept that you don't know everything -- and that you don't have to. Nobody has a secret playbook for life. Enjoy the figuring it out as you go along, accept the mistakes, learn the lessons and keep placing one foot in front of the other. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ Your heart has room for everyone. Love is not a finite resource. Let yourself connect to new friends and new people. Life grows in proportion to the growth of love in all its forms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Here's hoping that 2010 brings many good lessons and many gifts for us all. Enjoy it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-1672859853699161103?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/1672859853699161103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-2009-taught-me.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1672859853699161103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1672859853699161103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-2009-taught-me.html' title='What 2009 taught me'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-4620853713054187106</id><published>2009-12-21T11:00:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T11:03:32.549-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new beginnings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jul'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='solstice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Holidays: First year quiet moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;For the past several years, I have tried not to get too sucked into holiday "busy-ness." I keep my shopping to a minimum, say no to about half the party invitations I receive, don't pressure myself to cook elaborate meals... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, I have felt an extra strong need to simplify and just enjoy quiet moments in life. Those quiet moments are especially important with C. It is our first Christmas together as&amp;nbsp;a married couple and that is incredibly important to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Everyone says that Christmas is for the children. Honestly, I disagree. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, children get excited for Christmas lights, Santa and presents. It is sweet and nice to watch, but&amp;nbsp;this time of year can also be nice for the grown-ups among us. Who says we can't enjoy this time of year after we have passed a certain young age?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As an adult, this season is about moving out of darkness and into light. (The Winter Solstice is today and the days will begin to get longer again - I love that.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;It is about celebrating the beauty and blessings in our lives. This year, I am celebrating my new marriage, my love for C. and&amp;nbsp;the opportunities for growth this past year has brought me -- in addition to the constant blessings of my wonderful family and dear friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Christmas is done, the year winds down and it is a time to welcome new beginnings. This past year has brought so much love into my life and so much change - some&amp;nbsp;challenging and some exciting - and I can't wait for what the next year will bring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been racking my brain trying to come up with new traditions that C. and I can share as a couple, but haven't come up with much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, we have shared a few very sweet moments that will help make this first holiday season together&amp;nbsp;a wonderful memory. We decorated our self-cut Christmas tree alone together after Jonah&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt; was asleep one night. It was almost meditative - the two of us quietly selecting and placing ornaments together during a quiet evening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past Saturday, we attended a Winter Solstice celebration downtown. It was a nice change of pace from the typical holiday events - eclectic world music and a relatively small group of people sharing the joy of the season. C. and I settled into a back corner of the room, which was illuminated by red and white Christmas lights. We drank dark beer and mead (honey wine, yum), held hands, snuggled, &amp;nbsp;enjoyed the excellent people-watching and listened to the music. It was a quiet moment for us to connect and just BE as individuals and as a couple. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/Sy-3m3CWt9I/AAAAAAAAABw/WAyGm55aiXg/s1600-h/dalagodjul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/Sy-3m3CWt9I/AAAAAAAAABw/WAyGm55aiXg/s320/dalagodjul.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have tears in my eyes thinking about it. It was a simple and powerful moment that I will treasure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I wish everyone a God Jul (good yule in Swedish), a Merry Christmas and a new year full of light, peace and new beginnings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;* name changed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-4620853713054187106?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/4620853713054187106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/12/holidays-first-year-quiet-moments.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4620853713054187106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4620853713054187106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/12/holidays-first-year-quiet-moments.html' title='Holidays: First year quiet moments'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/Sy-3m3CWt9I/AAAAAAAAABw/WAyGm55aiXg/s72-c/dalagodjul.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-7105922397656137909</id><published>2009-12-11T09:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T09:33:22.467-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nurturing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dads'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmoms'/><title type='text'>Moms, dads ... and stepmoms</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have been doing a lot of reading on blended families, how to be a good stepmom, how to have a successful marriage in a blended family, etc. As with anything new in my life, I always turn to books and research for comfort and hope, as well as direction and tips. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been reading a few online message boards and blogs on the topic, as well. Something I read on a stepmom blog yesterday has really stuck in my craw...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;(The blogger is also a nationally recognized author on the topic.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wrote something like, paraphrasing here,&amp;nbsp;"the two women in a child's life (mom and stepmom) often become the two most nurturing forces." Adding, again paraphrasing, "women have a natural ability to nurture and often end up competing for top spot in a child's life." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep breath. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few major problems with that assertion: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I am not competing for the mom-spot in my stepkids' lives. They have a mom whom they love and see on a regular basis. She is far from perfect, but she is -- and always will be -- mom. I really resent the idea that I would presume to fill her role, or that I would be "naturally" drawn to do so because I am the more nurturing sex. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, who says dads can't be nurturers? I think it is so insulting to dads to assume that they are the hands-off parents and leave the nurturing to the women in their lives. It shortchanges their ability (and desire) to be emotional and have deeply connected relationships in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I have heard that PromiseKeepers actually tells men to be hands-off during children's younger years and that their job "kicks in" when the kids turn 13 and need help growing into adults. That idea is insulting both ways -- it implies that dads can't possibly nurture young children and moms can't possibly help teens become healthy adults. Grr.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to dads as nurturers. C. is amazing with his kids. He handles bedtime and bath time. He does their laundry. He kisses their booboos and offers bear hugs during the scary parts in movies. He snuggles with them on the couch to watch TV. He colors with his daughter and plays cars with his son. He lets them wear their Halloween costumes when they want and encourages their healthy imaginations. He is constantly on the lookout for new books on parenting and taking care of a special needs child. This list could go on and on and on. He is an amazing dad. I would even argue that he is the most nurturing parent in their lives (but I am not a fly on the wall in mom's house - so don't know that for sure). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't need me to swoop in and take care of the kids' emotional or physical needs. He knows how to do it and does it well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;(I would argue that he needs my emotional support and care as a wife much more than he needs my skills with children.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As stepmom, and as the second adult in the house, I do support him and back him up. I do offer emotional support and physical care to the kids, but my role as a "parent-figure" comes &lt;em&gt;after&lt;/em&gt; C. and the kids' mom. (Their stepdad is also a supporter and cheerleader in their lives.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My role as stepmom is something unique. I don't see myself as a parent, but I do see myself as a responsible adult in their lives. I can offer &lt;em&gt;extra&lt;/em&gt; support and care -- but that will never be a true substitute for what mom and dad can provide. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More on this later. Ruminating for now...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-7105922397656137909?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/7105922397656137909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/12/moms-dads-and-stepmoms.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/7105922397656137909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/7105922397656137909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/12/moms-dads-and-stepmoms.html' title='Moms, dads ... and stepmoms'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-500179337541718638</id><published>2009-12-07T11:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T11:10:06.138-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rocky Mountain National Park'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grand Lake'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiking'/><title type='text'>Winter fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C. and I took a weekend trip to &lt;a href="http://www.grandlakechamber.com/gallery/"&gt;Grand Lake, Colo.&lt;/a&gt; for his birthday -- just the two of us. It was so relaxing and wonderful. We had a view of the mountains from our room, which was complete with a cozy fireplace and log furniture. Saturday was a very lazy day of napping, lounging and just walking around the little town. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I surprised C. with a massage appointment at the lodge, which he loved. He needed the relaxation time for sure, and it feels so good to give just the right present. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the sun went down, we went outside for a dip in the hot tub. There is nothing like looking at the stars from a mountain lodge while soaking in a hot tub. The trip back inside in the 5-degree temps wasn't as fun, but it was such a Colorado moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, we went to the Community House in town and enjoyed a concert by a men's a cappella group. They were adorable -- senior men in their Christmas sweaters. They were pretty good, as well. It was such a small town Christmas experience. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the show, we enjoyed an amazing dinner across the street at the local &lt;a href="http://www.maxandts.com/"&gt;tavern&lt;/a&gt;. C. had duck stroganoff and I had lingonberry-sauced salmon (my Swedish side loves anything lingonberry) with a side of honey-roasted sweet potatoes. Yummy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/Sx1Dyf9HALI/AAAAAAAAABo/hwF7F5DodOc/s1600-h/BirthdayWeekendGrandLake+2009+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" er="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/Sx1Dyf9HALI/AAAAAAAAABo/hwF7F5DodOc/s320/BirthdayWeekendGrandLake+2009+004.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Most of the men's choir made its way to the same tavern and graced us with another impromptu concert there (ahh, memories of my high-school choir singing anywhere, any time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, we had a leisurely breakfast at one of the local cafes and then went hiking in &lt;a href="http://rockymountainnationalpark.com/"&gt;Rocky Mountain National Park&lt;/a&gt;. There's a pretty trail just outside town that winds its way past several waterfalls and lakes. We hiked about three or four miles along the river, but didn't quite make it to the first lake before it started to snow. It was only about 10 degrees, so we decided to head back before we got trapped in the storm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/Sx1DVEP2v8I/AAAAAAAAABg/I6Y0IBuMrrQ/s1600-h/BirthdayWeekendGrandLake+2009+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" er="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/Sx1DVEP2v8I/AAAAAAAAABg/I6Y0IBuMrrQ/s320/BirthdayWeekendGrandLake+2009+010.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I was really hoping to see a moose on our hike, but no dice. Still, hiking in the cold with nobody else around was invigorating. Colorado is a stunningly beautiful place and I am so thankful for the opportunity to enjoy the natural assets of my home state whenever I can. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to reality today, but I am so glad for the weekend diversion that refreshed both of our spirits so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-500179337541718638?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/500179337541718638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/12/winter-fun.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/500179337541718638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/500179337541718638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/12/winter-fun.html' title='Winter fun'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/Sx1Dyf9HALI/AAAAAAAAABo/hwF7F5DodOc/s72-c/BirthdayWeekendGrandLake+2009+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-1735674658628392187</id><published>2009-11-30T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T10:41:59.411-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tears'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Tears</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am just plain having a hard day. We received some more bad news yesterday in relation to the kids and their mom. (I worked very hard right then to restrain myself from adding a colorful adjective before the word "mom.") &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I cried several times yesterday and this morning, and I do have to say that I am so thankful for the restorative power of tears. My sister always says she suspects that women's tears must be an outlet for some of our pent-up hormones. :) I think she might be right, because a good cry always makes me feel better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend of tears started when we watched "Marley &amp;amp; Me" Saturday night. (I had never seen it.) Being a dog lover, I always cry when the dog dies -- so, of course, I cried.&amp;nbsp;Sure, the tears&amp;nbsp;were about the movie dog, the four dogs I had growing up, the dog I have now (and the thought of someday saying goodbye to her)... but they were about more than that. They were about childhood memories and family dreams. I can't even begin to list the number of personal images brought to the surface by that movie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I am in the process of creating a new family with C. and his kids, while trying to maintain the close connection I have with my parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, nephews and other extended family. I am also holding fiercely to the dreams I have for what out future family will be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As with everything in life, reality rarely matches the expectation or the preconceived image. Tears are nature's gift for grieving lost expectations. Tears allow you to release and hopefully let go, which is necessary for embracing life as it is rather than life as you dreamed it would be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-1735674658628392187?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/1735674658628392187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/11/tears.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1735674658628392187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1735674658628392187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/11/tears.html' title='Tears'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-840614055052365748</id><published>2009-11-23T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T11:56:24.846-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new traditions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids-free weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Weekends and traditions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C. and I had the most refreshing, relaxing weekend. We helped his mom move on Saturday, which wasn't the most fun -- but I am happy to see her getting settled into her new townhome after more than a year of house-selling/house-hunting stress. I think it will be a great community for her, and it will be so nice that she has her own space now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the move, we relaxed a bit at home and then went out to dinner at a pretty little cafe called &lt;a href="http://web.mac.com/lineranch/The_Bliss_Cafe/Welcome.html"&gt;Bliss&lt;/a&gt;. The food wasn't great, to be honest (their chocolate mousse was just barely beige -- not sure how they could even call it chocolate) -- but that didn't matter. We split a bottle of wine. We talked. We laughed at the cheesy band -- a "classic rock duo." We flirted. It was just so nice to get out of the house and enjoy a different venue (sans kids). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday morning, we drove up to Evergreen and had a late breakfast at the &lt;a href="http://www.oneworldcafeevg.com/"&gt;One World Cafe&lt;/a&gt;. Spinach florentine crepes for me and a pork breakfast burrito for C. Delicious french press coffee. Yum. Again, the change of venue was just so nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent yesterday afternoon lazing around on the couch watching football and the "Next Iron Chef" finale (Chef Garces won - boo!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am at work today, and it is my only day in the office. Tomorrow, I will take Jonah* to the museum (he is off school all week) and we will be getting ready for the Thanksgiving celebration at C.'s sister's house on Thursday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to celebrating with my new family, and I am looking forward to creating new holiday traditions with C., and with C. and the kids, this holiday season. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love grows in moments like these. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;* Name changed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-840614055052365748?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/840614055052365748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/11/weekends-and-traditions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/840614055052365748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/840614055052365748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/11/weekends-and-traditions.html' title='Weekends and traditions'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-6028212568480962930</id><published>2009-11-09T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T10:13:46.685-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spouse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids-free weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='date'/><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;C. and I enjoyed our first kid-free weekend in more than month this past weekend, and it was wonderful. There's nothing like spending some quality one-on-one time together to remind you why you love your spouse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went out on a real dinner DATE Saturday night and then saw friends at the roller derby bout. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I even cooked a real meal last night, and we ate dinner in the dining room on our wedding china. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who have kids -- go on a date! I'm telling you, it works wonders. I know I am new to having kids around, but I already am a big believer that couples need time alone together, without the kids and without talk of the kids. The kids will be better for it, as well, because they get parents who feel refreshed and energetic and who are strong in their love for each other. I think that's the best gift you can give a child -- a warm, loving home environment and a good example of what healthy love looks like between adults.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;So, some of the many little reasons for my big love for C.: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He's funny. He keeps me laughing all the time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- He can be really serious, as well - it's a good balance. &lt;br /&gt;- He's a good friend. He makes time for his friends and truly cares about them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- He has great taste -- in food, music, clothes, books...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- He believes in constant growth and learning in life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;- He's hot. ;) &lt;br /&gt;- He is just a good, good man - and I am lucky to be his wife. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I am glowing today, and I am so thankful to have had such a great couple of days with my husband.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-6028212568480962930?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/6028212568480962930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/11/love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/6028212568480962930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/6028212568480962930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/11/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-2817868487571999325</id><published>2009-11-03T09:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T11:35:50.010-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blasting music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='classical'/><title type='text'>Music in the morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As I was getting ready this morning, my 8-year-old stepson was blasting classical music from the CD player in his room. It reminded me of sleeping in too late as a teenager -- my dad would blast classical or opera to wake me up, and my mom would fling open my bedroom door and vacuum. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll take the classical from Jonah*. In a few years, I'm sure he'll be blasting hip hop or death metal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*Names changed&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-2817868487571999325?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/2817868487571999325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/11/music-in-morning.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/2817868487571999325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/2817868487571999325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/11/music-in-morning.html' title='Music in the morning'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-1100003615744060451</id><published>2009-10-30T15:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T15:32:34.712-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Random little things</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I can't seem to focus on one thing long enough to stick to one topic today, so here are some random things that have made me smile this week: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ My dog racing and diving in the two feet of snow yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ My&amp;nbsp;hot chocolate&amp;nbsp;"date" with my 8-year-old stepson yesterday after we played in the snow for an hour. We went to a restaurant, just the two of us, and split a cookie and drank cocoa. Snow day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Two feet of snow before Halloween! Seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Waking up next to the love of my life, C., every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Warm, fresh-baked cookies on my lunch break downtown today. Three for $1 on the honor system. Best business ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;~ A belated wedding gift of three bottles of wine, a box of chocolates and a cookbook from my coworkers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-1100003615744060451?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/1100003615744060451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/10/random-little-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1100003615744060451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/1100003615744060451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/10/random-little-things.html' title='Random little things'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-6168633187542398168</id><published>2009-10-19T13:34:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T11:36:45.555-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parents'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='brain development'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boredom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='entertainment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepkids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>What if we get bored?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As a new stepmom, I am entering more fully the world of children's activities, cartoons, books and games. Up until now, I have watched from the sidelines as my sisters and friends chauffered their children to various activities, events and appointments -- all set to a soundtrack of Bob the Builder and Disney theme songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, though, parents need activities that are just for them -- with no trace of princesses (don't even get me started), Spiderman or talking vegetables. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Friday night, my parents invited my sisters and&amp;nbsp;me to a free Dixieland jazz show with the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.queencityjazzband.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Queen City Jazz Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;. When we were growing up, my folks took us to see this band at a variety of free concerts in the park, so there&amp;nbsp;was some nostalgia attached to the event. I also have a personal love of all things jazz in nearly all its iterations. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I told C. I planned to go, and he and the kids were welcome to come, if they'd like. They did join us -- as did three out of four of my nephews. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the drive down to the concert, Annie* (my stepdaughter) asked, &lt;strong&gt;"What if me and brother get bored?"&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, what if the kids &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; get bored? Just what tragedy would ensue? Boredom -- is it the horror of all horrors to be avoided at any cost by parents everywhere?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is, "boredom" allows a person's mind a free moment for creativity. I remember creating elaborate stories for myself as a child during many "boring" car trips (we didn't have car DVDs back then!), "boring" classical concerts and "boring" dinners at &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;real&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; restaurants (no ball pits, clown characters or free toys in the Merry Meal) with my parents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Children do not need to be catered to and entertained every second of the day. Sadly, many parents give in (or give up?) and set up the portable DVD player during breakfast out at a cafe (what happened to food being the "event"?), or&amp;nbsp;pop in a video game in the car on long road trips (doesn't anyone play the alphabet game anymore, or - gasp - look at the view?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents have a bigger job than serving as personal social and event organizers for their children. They must help children learn about the world, learn how to think critically for themselves, discover how to create their own stories and grow into adults who enjoy life and all that it has to offer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is about more than plugging in a machine for ready-made entertainment. Sometimes, a child is better served with little more than a pen and paper -- and a bored moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night, my parents, sisters, C., five children and I lined up in two rows to listen to some good live music. Those five children listened, watched, pretended to drum along and practiced "conducting" the band. They also took advantage of boredom to doodle and write, and show their parents the results of their creativity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did beautifully. They had FUN (my 9-year-old nephew reported that the evening was "awesome!"). Their brains absorbed a little healthy music (which &lt;a href="http://www.naturalnews.com/024286_the_brain_mood_brains.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6;"&gt;studies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; have shown aids &lt;a href="http://news.softpedia.com/news/How-Music-Influences-Brain-Development-36063.shtml"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #3d85c6;"&gt;brain development&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and their parents (and stepparents, in my case) were able to enjoy a little grown-up time. The singer had us all on our feet by the end, belting out "When the Saints Go Marching In." (Which elicited a few eye rolls from the younger set at how embarrassing their parents were acting - ha! I, for one, am not the least bit worried about being embarrassing.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As I have said before, music feeds my soul. I needed that night out, and I am happy I was able to share it with my husband and stepkids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spongebob, Speed Racer, Cinderella and Dora - step aside. Tonight, we prefer to be "bored."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*Names changed&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-6168633187542398168?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/6168633187542398168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-if-we-get-bored.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/6168633187542398168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/6168633187542398168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-if-we-get-bored.html' title='What if we get bored?'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-6903338125713035493</id><published>2009-10-15T15:28:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T11:37:25.040-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='consolation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pets'/><title type='text'>My pup</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As I alluded to in my last post, it has been an incredibly difficult week for us. I think I focus on "the little things" even more during hard times -- when the big things become overwhelming, the little things can save me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, my adorable mixed breed dog (she's half Welsh Corgi, but dad was a stranger in the night) has been that little thing. I'll call her Missy*. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SteTcYb0ifI/AAAAAAAAABA/evyWUErEwT0/s1600-h/8weeks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img $r="true" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SteTcYb0ifI/AAAAAAAAABA/evyWUErEwT0/s320/8weeks.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;She came to me by way of the local shelter and a doggie foster mom when she was an 8-week-old ball of fluff. I had just bought my townhome and I wasn't 100 percent&amp;nbsp;ready for a dog yet, but she was ready for me. My parents' friends' neighbor was the foster mom, and it was a lucky coincidence that my wanting a Corgi came up in conversation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Her mom had been dropped off at the shelter pregnant. She gave birth to four sweet puppies while in foster care, and all five of them -- mom and pups -- were adopted into loving homes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SteTfiQIIUI/AAAAAAAAABI/_d8hWj2_8LQ/s1600-h/Deck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img $r="true" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SteTfiQIIUI/AAAAAAAAABI/_d8hWj2_8LQ/s320/Deck.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;She came to me during a particularly lonely time in my life and she did wonders for my mood and outlook. It helped so much to have someone else to care for and consider -- it wasn't just me anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, she is three years old and all grown up. Now, I have a husband and two stepkids to care for and consider, in addition to Missy and me. In many ways, she helped prepare my heart for that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, she is also the one I can pull onto my lap when I need comfort. I can just hold her, cuddle with her and pet her (which, of course, she loves). She doesn't ask what's wrong, and she may or may not know that something is "up" in our house, but she offers that consolation anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is also my willing companion on the long walks I take to clear my head. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I had a terrible dream last night that she was hurt, and I think that is what prompted me to write this post. She is so special to me and I never want to see her hurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Missy, for what you add to my life (as well as C. and the kids). You are an important and honored member of our family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*Names changed&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-6903338125713035493?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/6903338125713035493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-pup.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/6903338125713035493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/6903338125713035493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-pup.html' title='My pup'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SteTcYb0ifI/AAAAAAAAABA/evyWUErEwT0/s72-c/8weeks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-4570526537094200273</id><published>2009-10-07T15:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T15:23:40.340-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Women</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;It has been a really difficult&amp;nbsp;couple of days&amp;nbsp;(I don't really feel like talking about it here right now, but it relates to being a stepmom). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On days like these, I am reminded of what amazing women I have&amp;nbsp;in my life. Today, I was able to call and talk to one of my best friends, as well as my sister. They are both strong, smart women and they are both moms. Their sympathetic ears and wisdom were exactly what I needed today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I wanted to pause and say "thank you" to them and to all women who are good friends to each other. Female friendships are definitely unique and one of the greatest gifts in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-4570526537094200273?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/4570526537094200273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/10/women.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4570526537094200273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4570526537094200273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/10/women.html' title='Women'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-7727396204677249414</id><published>2009-09-25T15:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T15:50:00.391-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='honeymoon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Music - part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Music has always been and will always be a huge part of my life. I am a music lover and was once a singer (I still sing at home and in the car). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I will post many, many times about music and songs and the feelings and memories associated with them -- which is why this entry is titled "Music - part 1." I expect many more parts to follow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this song online today, and I couldn't be more thrilled. C. and I first heard it on honeymoon. It was playing on the rental car radio&amp;nbsp;as we&amp;nbsp;drove all over the island of Maui. I listened and gazed out the window at the stunning and peaceful beauty of that place. I made a mental note to look it up when we got home, and I finally had the chance today to find it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a beautiful (sad, but thankful)&amp;nbsp;a cappella piece by Keali'i Reichel called "Wanting Memories."&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories, indeed. I will always have the memory of the pure love and joy I was feeling that day when I first heard the song. So in love with C., so in love with life and so ready for the next part of our journey that we had just begun together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C., this one is for you. May we always have those Hawaiian memories and may we make new memories together every day. I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;dl style="-moz-box-sizing: border-box; background: #fff; border-bottom: #b1b1b1 1px solid; border-left: #b1b1b1 1px solid; border-right: #b1b1b1 1px solid; border-top: #b1b1b1 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; color: #373737; font: 11px Tahoma,sans-serif; overflow: hidden; width: 426px;"&gt;&lt;dt style="height: 344px; overflow: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RdapAqrcuvw&amp;amp;feature=youtube_gdata&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RdapAqrcuvw&amp;amp;feature=youtube_gdata&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dd style="background-image: url(http://www.tsrocks.com/images/youtube.bottom.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; font: 11px/12px Tahoma; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 8px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; text-transform: none;"&gt;Read &lt;h1 style="display: inline; font: bold 11px/12px Tahoma; margin: 0px; padding-right: 3px; text-align: left; text-transform: none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tsrocks.com/k/kealii_reichel_texts/wanting_memories.html" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; color: #373737; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold! important; text-decoration: none;"&gt;Wanting Memories Lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;here. &lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-7727396204677249414?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/7727396204677249414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/music-part-1.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/7727396204677249414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/7727396204677249414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/music-part-1.html' title='Music - part 1'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-4011633650731220874</id><published>2009-09-21T11:10:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T11:38:06.290-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='newlywed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepmom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepkids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cooking'/><title type='text'>Yum, yum, yum</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Part of my newlywed adventure has been sharing the company of two wonderful children -- my stepkids -- whom I'll call Jonah* (8) and Annie* (5). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not gonna lie. It has been an adjustment for sure. Not because they are bad kids -- they're great, actually -- but because I am new to sharing my house with anyone, let alone anyone smaller than four feet. (How, exactly, is it possible for so much volume and constant energy to emit from those two little bodies?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Ok, so my dog is shorter than four feet, but she has been the easiest roommate on the planet. She and I still find sanity and comfort in each other amid the sometimes chaotic happenings of the new house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we are about two months in to our new marriage and new household, and I am starting to find my stride. The kids are with us every other weekend for three nights. It feels good to have a small victory now and then -- a moment that makes my heart swell with pride when I feel like I am truly part of the family now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of those occurred last night. I have been asking C. to let me do more of the cooking, because I have been needing to cook as an expression of myself in my new home (call it nesting). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cooked for the four of us last night. It was just a simple casserole recipe with ground meat, canned tomatoes, corn, and onions topped with cornbread batter on top&amp;nbsp;-- all&amp;nbsp;baked in the oven. I was nervous that the kids wouldn't like it, but they gobbled it down. Annie even sat there saying, "yum, yum, yum, yum..." every few seconds. Jonah actually ATE the tomatoes. He never eats tomatoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small victory for sure, but it is one of those hundreds of little things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night's successful dinner -- combined with eliciting laughter from both kids AND C. as I read them a Buzz Lightyear story before bed -- helped create that warm glow I always imagined I would feel at the heart of family life. Something I dreamed of often as a single girl who lived alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With stepkids, a new marriage and much transition in life right now, it is so nice to stop and remember those glowing moments. I'd like to sit and savor this one for awhile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*Names changed&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-4011633650731220874?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/4011633650731220874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/yum-yum-yum.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4011633650731220874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4011633650731220874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/yum-yum-yum.html' title='Yum, yum, yum'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-9091313843367861874</id><published>2009-09-15T11:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T16:50:18.077-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='learning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sauces'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cooking'/><title type='text'>Lifetime learning</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;One of the things that C. and I both enjoy is continued learning, whether from reading or taking classes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Last night, we shared in a new learning experience together - a sauce-making class at a local cooking school. We learned all the basic "mother" sauces: homemade mayonnaise (a hundred times better than jarred), pesto, hollandaise, vinaigrette, bechamel, veloute, demi glace, beurre blanc and creme anglaise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The class of 20 people was divided into groups of three. C. and I worked with another gal to make the vinaigrette and creme anglaise, which we helped demo for the rest of the class. Each team then did a demo of their sauce. At the end, we sat down to enjoy various dishes (chicken, beef, asparagus, salad, strawberries, mac n cheese) with the sauces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a fun class - something I have been wanting to do for a long time. Mostly, it was fun to share something new like that with C. We both enjoy cooking and I hope moments like these inspire us to cook together more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will need to practice these sauces, I know. They are all about getting the timing right, and that is my biggest challenge when cooking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll let you know when we make a few of these at home successfully. Hopefully we will add our personal twists to the base sauces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-9091313843367861874?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/9091313843367861874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/lifetime-learning.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/9091313843367861874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/9091313843367861874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/lifetime-learning.html' title='Lifetime learning'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-3285713266572478031</id><published>2009-09-11T11:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T11:16:30.889-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Memory</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/90/212855981_cd6b8c2d68.jpg?v=0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" mq="true" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/90/212855981_cd6b8c2d68.jpg?v=0" width="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I doubt I will ever have the words to express my feelings about September 11. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The words of a father on NPR's Story Corps this morning took me directly back to that day. He lost both of his sons that day - both emergency responders in New York. His is just one of many stories of profound loss from that day and from all senseless, man-made tragedies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always remember. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-3285713266572478031?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/3285713266572478031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/memory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3285713266572478031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3285713266572478031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/memory.html' title='Memory'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-4866075485731198776</id><published>2009-09-08T09:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T14:01:37.682-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='folk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bluegrass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='road trip'/><title type='text'>Road trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SqZ6_L04tnI/AAAAAAAAAA4/SxIs_6pW6Cw/s1600-h/fcff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379122030865593970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SqZ6_L04tnI/AAAAAAAAAA4/SxIs_6pW6Cw/s200/fcff.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;C. (my husband) and I took advantage of the long weekend to take a little road trip to southwestern Colorado for a music festival in Pagosa Springs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing like an open expanse of road for bonding with your partner. Five hours together in the car makes room for good conversation and comfortable silences. Sometimes, just sharing the view together brings you closer together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;Note: The drive on Hwy. 285 takes you through &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_Park_(Colorado_basin)"&gt;South Park&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My most favorite memories of childhood are the times my parents, two sisters and I spent piled in the Caprice Classic, driving cross-country, singing along with the radio (or 8-track) and stopping to see America along the way. It is something I am thrilled to share with C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend, we ate good junk food (which, as we later discovered, my body can only handle in small doses; onion rings and half a bag of Fritos resulted in C. needing to pull over to the side of the road for me - sigh). We enjoyed some fresh air. We savored our time together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, we were at the folk festival from about noon to 10 p.m. where we heard several great bands -- many with a bluegrass bent. Nothing beats an outdoor festival with the Colorado mountains in the background. Excellent scenery, good food, great music and unmatched people watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The evening closed with the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.subdudes.com/news/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;Subdudes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;, always enjoyable, but our favorite by far was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.darrellscott.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;Darrell Scott&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;. He has a poet's heart and a bluesman's soul.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SqZ6OvC-4zI/AAAAAAAAAAw/GBXtJto6jcE/s1600-h/DarrellScott3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379121198506369842" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SqZ6OvC-4zI/AAAAAAAAAAw/GBXtJto6jcE/s200/DarrellScott3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to work today, unfortunately, but I am so thankful for those little road trips away from it all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-4866075485731198776?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/4866075485731198776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/road-trip.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4866075485731198776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/4866075485731198776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/road-trip.html' title='Road trip'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SqZ6_L04tnI/AAAAAAAAAA4/SxIs_6pW6Cw/s72-c/fcff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-3641732263479716328</id><published>2009-09-02T15:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T16:07:56.041-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sounds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='geese'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='migration'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='autumn'/><title type='text'>One sound of autumn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;My husband was up and at 'em already this morning and I was groggily making our bed. (I am NOT a morning person.) Truthfully, I was dreading my day ahead a bit -- work and I are at a bit of an impasse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I heard the vaguely melancholy sound of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canada_Goose"&gt;Canada geese&lt;/a&gt; honking as they flew above our house. Something about that sound has a distinct autumnal feel. I instantly picture yellowing leaves against crisp, pinkish sunsets when I hear geese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ashamed to say I don't know enough about geese and their migration patterns to tell you if they are coming to Colorado or going to some distant shore in the fall. All I know is their sound means fall is on the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They helped start off my day with a smile, and I wish them well on their journey between the two nests they call home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-3641732263479716328?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/3641732263479716328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-sound-of-autumn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3641732263479716328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3641732263479716328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-sound-of-autumn.html' title='One sound of autumn'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-9020515773575335465</id><published>2009-09-01T10:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T10:19:14.034-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coffee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>A cup of coffee</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330000;"&gt;A good cup of coffee has been one of my favorite little things since I was a senior in high school. We used to drive downtown to this funky coffee shop called Paris on the Platte and order a pitcher of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.parisontheplattecafeandbar.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#003300;"&gt;Mexican coffee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330000;"&gt; - heavy on the foam and cinnamon. Mmm, yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't just about the coffee, though - it never has been. Some of the best conversations of my angsty teenagehood happened over those pitchers of coffee (with the scent of Cloves cigarettes in the background -- I didn't smoke, but it was part of that cafe's signature atmosphere in the 90s).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is just something about sitting down with a friend over a cup of coffee (or tea, or milk, or whatever drink strikes your fancy). It forces you to slow down, wrap your hands around the cup, and meet the eyes of the person across the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me coffee = conversation. Even when I have a cup of coffee alone, it slows me down long enough to have a "conversation" with myself. It gives me five or 10 minutes to recenter and reconnect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I got married a little over a month ago, my husband and I have started a nice morning tradition. He wakes up first and starts a pot of coffee. He checks e-mail or goes outside while I am getting ready upstairs, but he comes in and sits down with me at the table when I come into the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, silently or with simple conversation, we share a cup of coffee. It is now the favorite part of my day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-9020515773575335465?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/9020515773575335465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/cup-of-coffee.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/9020515773575335465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/9020515773575335465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/09/cup-of-coffee.html' title='A cup of coffee'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570137499734411134.post-3838672650041403405</id><published>2009-08-26T11:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T12:14:07.649-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Beginning</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Do what you love, and you will never work a day in your life." - attributed to Confucius&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new husband quoted that line to me the other night as I was venting to him about the lack of motivation and satisfaction I am feeling in my job. My response? I don't know what I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, that response is entirely untrue. Sure, I haven't found my "bliss" in the &lt;a href="http://http//www.jcf.org/new/index.php?category=83"&gt;Joseph Campbell&lt;/a&gt; sense. I haven't found work that sustains creativity and challenges my wandering, curious mind on a consistent basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I do know what I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my husband. I love my parents, sisters, stepkids, nephews and friends. I love my dog. I love rain; and chocolate; and long walks; and growing my own vegetables. I love the sound of children's laughter. I love the smell of bread. Bottom line: I really do love life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life. It is a big word that encompasses so many thousands of little things. Work -- that thing we "do," whether or not we love to do it -- is but one of those little things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is an attempt to stop and acknowledge at least some of the little things that keep me going (which is likely to include little things that set my mind to wondering, so expect sidebars). Perhaps I will stop at 1,001, but perhaps I will find more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1570137499734411134-3838672650041403405?l=1001littlethings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/feeds/3838672650041403405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/08/1st-test.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3838672650041403405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1570137499734411134/posts/default/3838672650041403405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1001littlethings.blogspot.com/2009/08/1st-test.html' title='Beginning'/><author><name>A.J.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09859038927236521812</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhVpqe-DS6M/SpV_d1gcsPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3qZtDLT3dP8/S220/muddyshoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
