tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69530747819294973492024-03-13T15:51:58.281-05:00The Kazel ImaginationDanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.comBlogger1512125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-65369677108051860822014-02-16T09:30:00.000-06:002014-02-16T09:30:00.323-06:00Date night with the 'dogs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Yesterday I wrote about Jeff's and Sydney's "date" to the Father/Daughter ball. What were AJ and I doing during that time, you might ask. We went on a date of our own. To a Bulldogs Hockey game.</div>
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AJ had accompanied Jeff on the trip to the flower store to pick up corsages, and then proved himself a gentleman by presenting me with a rose at the start of our date.</div>
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I'd figured we'd go out to dinner first, but to AJ, autographs are far more exciting. So we headed to the arena early, paid for parking, and then walked around the skywalk for 45 minutes because we discovered there'd been another game earlier, and they hadn't yet opened the doors for our game. </div>
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Once they did, we were among the first inside. AJ was like a predator. He immediately focused on the bench area, where he noticed a couple players taping sticks and doing other mundane tasks in preparation for the game. AJ was all over that! We came prepared with a sharpie marker, and AJ managed to get four players to autograph his ticket.</div>
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Next on his wish list: get a puck. I couldn't have been prouder of AJ. A player flipped a puck over the glass during warmups. AJ and the young child in the bottom left of the photo raced for it. AJ easily reached the puck first. But he turned around and handed it to the boy. That made it all the sweeter when, a few minutes later, another player hoisted a puck just for AJ.</div>
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By that point, it really didn't matter who would win once play started. This was the best game ever!</div>
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Close up of the puck: note that it's still wet. And it has scratch marks on it. That proves it's a USED puck. Which apparently is a very big deal when you're nine.<br />
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The game was a good one, and we had great seats, just five rows back. The Bulldogs won 2-1.</div>
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And then, because the night wasn't already perfect enough, it turns out it was autograph night. After the game, and after the players showered (thankfully), they all sat down behind a long line of tables, and we were able to walk along and get each of their autographs. Posters were provided, but AJ thought it would be far better to have them all sign his jersey. (Good thing he had a shirt on underneath.)</div>
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All the players were very gracious, but I must mock for a moment. They used AJ's black sharpie marker. On a dark maroon jersey. The jersey has one white and yellow stripes on the sleeves and at the bottom, along with a big gold bulldog in the center. But did any of the players think to sign on the lighter areas? No.<br />
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Squint hard. The camera flash actually makes it possible to see there are autographs there. AJ doesn't care. The thrill is in the hunt, and so it's a pretty safe bet that next game we'll go to, he'll eagerly try all over again to get as many of their autographs as possible.</div>
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It's a date!</div>
<br />Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-78329923095845909072014-02-15T08:31:00.001-06:002014-02-15T08:31:06.698-06:00Belle of the Ball<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There's a highly popular tradition in our area, which I pretty much ignored until last year. And by "pretty much ignored", I mean I showed my typical lack of organization and so by the time I looked into buying tickets, it was sold out. </div>
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The tradition is the annual Father/Daughter Ball. It's organized by a Duluth church and attendance has grown so dramatically that they spread it out over two weekends. Then, just to make the options a little more confusing, a Duluth restaurant started offering their own version. And with all those options, I still wasn't fast enough to buy tickets. Though apparently the moms of every other little girl in Sydney's circle of friends were. So for a year, I've been listening to Sydney ask how soon was the ball because she very much wanted to go.</div>
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This year, there was no disappointment.</div>
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I understand that Jeff and Sydney had a fantastic time on their date and already are looking forward to returning next year. But as fun as the ball was, I have to believe half the thrill came from the preparations. First of all, there was the dress selection. It was a hot debate between the sequined blue one you see, and a flowing bright green one that looks like something a figure skater would wear. (Spin doctor that I am, I settled the debate by suggesting the green one will make a nice Easter dress, and as an added bonus will also make a nice Palm Sunday dress, which means she gets to show it off for Grandpa and Grandma when we vacation in Florida next month.)</div>
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Next question: what to do with her hair. Styling hair is not one of my talents. And so we splurged and went with the princess treatment. I made an appointment at the salon where I get my hair cut.</div>
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For the first few minutes, Sydney couldn't see what was happening. Then the stylist turned the chair slightly and Sydney caught a glimpse in a mirror on the opposite wall. After that, she couldn't stop smiling. THIS was a hair-do worthy of a Disney princess.</div>
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Once home, she didn't want Daddy to see her hair until she was all ready. So we put on her dress, tights and shoes, along with lip gloss and small stickers to pretend she had ear rings. And then my little diva made her debut.<br />
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Only to discover the surprises weren't done yet. Daddy bought his date a corsage.<br />
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Along with a matching one for himself. (Note, these photos are totally staged. Neither one was particularly comfortable sticking long pins into clothes so close to vital organs, so I got to help with that part.)<br />
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After a few more photos, they were off!<br />
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They danced and dined and had their picture taken (not in that order) and then danced some more. The organizers thought of everything... including glow in the dark bracelets (big hit with the girls) and female helpers to assist the younger girls who needed to use the bathroom (big hit with the dads).</div>
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It was an absolutely wonderful night, both concluded. A night that set a standard that future boyfriends will have a tough time living up to. As I heard one dad say later, it's amazing how every dad there had the prettiest girl at the ball.</div>
Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-45131826284289584952014-02-04T08:03:00.001-06:002014-02-04T08:03:16.997-06:00Happy fake birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
AJ was born in 2005 on the day before the Super Bowl. Via emergency C-section. It was remarkably inconvenient timing, I recall thinking back then, because it really really hurts to laugh at Super Bowl commercials one day after getting an incision like that. </div>
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It didn't occur to me at the time that the date would also lead to years of difficulty scheduling birthday parties around the big game. It also hadn't occurred to me there would be scheduling difficulties due to another big game.</div>
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Of course, AJ could have been born just about any time in January or February and there would have been problems due to hockey. Because there's always hockey. But we decided to work it in our favor this year, inviting my sister and brother and their families to come and watch one of AJ's games, and then have his party afterward.</div>
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If you know how much my sister doesn't like cold weather, you know how much she loves my son to stand outside for an hour and watch him play.</div>
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AJ was pretty excited to show his cousin around the new warming house and introduce him to his teammates.</div>
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After the game, which AJ's team won by a landslide, we headed home for the party. </div>
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Here are lots of pictures from the gift opening. His cousin Jessica was also there but chose not to squeeze in on the floor with the rest of the kids. Probably because her foot hurt or something.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I'm hoping AJ was trying to be helpful - as opposed to offering a commentary on my cooking/baking skills - when he requested that we have Sammy's Pizza and Dairy Queen ice cream cake at the party.</span></div>
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As for the headline on this story, Sydney woke up Sunday morning and wanted to give AJ a special greeting. She knew it wasn't his birthday, but since there was going to be a party she figured she needed to say something, so she called out "Happy belated birthday, Alex!" </div>
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I explained that you say belated if it's after his birthday, not before. So instead we wished him a happy fake birthday. It'll do, until the real big day.</div>
<br />Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-63062794823001151362014-02-02T20:37:00.000-06:002014-02-02T20:37:20.329-06:00Still here!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last night, we watched my brother's kids for a few hours. While they were here, I took some pictures of the fun. And that's when AJ asked (in a genuinely confused voice) "What are you going to do with those?"</div>
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Has it really been that long since I blogged? My kids used to be so well trained. The camera came out, and they knew it would end up on the blog. </div>
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Then, today, as if confirmation was needed, my sister commented that it'd been like a month since I'd blogged. Not quite. (I just checked) but really close.</div>
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So here are some pictures from last night. In case anyone doesn't recognize them, since it's been so long since I've written, my two are the biggest kids in the picture below. This was during the "let's calm down" phase of the eveing. Popcorn and a DVD. It worked fabulously. For about three minutes.</div>
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I have to say, the kids are at wonderfully fun ages. Zoe communicates volumes without saying a word.<br />
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While the boys just make volumes of sound. Nobody lost an eye, but it was still fun.<br />
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Of course AJ did his best to get them all interested in his favorite sport, providing mini sticks for all to join in a game of knee hockey.<br />
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The stick with the flashing light and goal siren was a hit with Zoe.</div>
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I have to admit, not only am I out of practice at writing. But also with photography. My camera battery after just a few shots. I charged it up, but not before the evening had come to an end. And now that I've uploaded the photos I did take, I see that there were some on the memory card from early January.</div>
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I better get blogging.</div>
Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-79326965684279291132014-01-07T19:18:00.001-06:002014-01-07T19:18:55.144-06:00Things I actually said to my children today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There's nothing like juggling motherhood and a full time career on a day when the kids' school is cancelled again due to extremely cold windchills to bring out my maternal instincts. Or maybe not. Because here are three things I admit to uttering today:</div>
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"Unless someone is dying or bleeding, do not come and get me."</blockquote>
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(My parting words of advice as I headed into the County Board meeting. I left the kids in my office with snacks, toys and Despicable Me 2 loaded in the DVD player.)</div>
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"I don't know how to get YouTube on the Xbox. Let's Facetime Dad so we can show him the screen and maybe he can talk you through it."</blockquote>
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(Admittedly, not that funny. But still amazing to think how many of those words had not been created even just a few years ago.)</div>
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"Quick! Stand there and look normal before it catches on fire."</blockquote>
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(As I was preparing to take down the tree decorations, I realized I'd never taken a picture of it this year.)</div>
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I can't wait to send the kids back to school tomorrow! I'm sure an above zero temperature is all I need to become my loving, motherly self again. Or maybe not.</div>
Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-2605697383346656852013-12-15T08:00:00.000-06:002013-12-15T08:00:00.613-06:00No slowing of his stride<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In case anyone was wondering, it'll take far more than a broken tooth to keep AJ from playing hockey.</div>
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But I wonder if I can use that as my excuse for why it's taken me nearly two weeks to post this video and photos?</div>
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The day after chipping his tooth and our emergency trip to the dentist (which I'm delightfully amazed is only going to end up costing us about $20 bucks after insurance) AJ played in a tournament in Proctor. Here's one of his many goals.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwx07_o6fKrl5ucfazbgsbkCclDaCPaO32J-hsb0M4rr6Dh-byOEsYVUo3QagjXDGMzSGIEkt0LzO1ES94k9w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
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But aside from scoring, his favorite part of the tournament was the two extra fans he had in the audience. Grandpa David and Grandma Elouise, who are in Florida for most of the hockey season, traveled to our neck of the tundra to cheer him on.<br />
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The following day, AJ played in two more games. He was goalie for one of those games, which happened to be against a Mite 2 team from Hermantown. For some reason, AJ has it in his head that that's one of the 10 best teams in the state. He's not quite sure who told him that, but he's sure it's true.</div>
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During the first half of the game, Hermantown was clearly the better team. But as the game progressed, our kids (especially AJ in the net) got stronger, and their kids seemed to tire.</div>
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No one keeps score, but usually it's pretty easy to see which team is the dominant one. Not this game. As the cock ticked down, I heard one dad jokingly yell, "Next goal wins!"<br />
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Those are the best kind of games. All the kids come off the ice feeling good and victorious. Not bad for the first tournament of the year.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-40721016404467017812013-12-14T09:54:00.000-06:002013-12-14T09:54:13.144-06:00Gingerbread construction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm curious if anyone makes gingerbread houses out of gingerbread anymore. Both of my kids had gingerbread house making events this week, and in both cases, the construction material of choice was graham crackers.</div>
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It's a third grade holiday tradition at our school for the students and parents to gather in the "cafetorium" (clever naming. In my day, it was called a lunchroom, and there happened to be a stage on one side of the room) and spend time together crafting these sugar rush sensations.</div>
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Alex seemed to get as much frosting on himself as he did on his house. Luckily, his friend Lucas didn't think there was anything wrong with that. Even more lucky, Lucas brought licorice, and enough to share. Definitely a good friend to have!</div>
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Take note of the small graham cracker rectangle next to AJ's house. That's a hockey rink. Where the Wild and Red Wings were facing off. (If you enlarge the picture below, you'll be able to see the respective green and red gumdrops, which represent the players.) As AJ had been finishing up his house, the principal happened to walk by and, knowing AJ's obsession with hockey, asked him if we was going to include a rink. Great suggestion!</div>
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When all was done, what to do with the extra frosting?</div>
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And then, because that wasn't enough fun, I got to do it again last night. Same place. Mostly same building supplies.But this time with Sydney and her Girl Scout troop.</div>
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It was a very different experience. Whereas AJ was only mildly interested in the project, but pretty meticulous with what little he did; Sydney was absolutely enthralled, gobbing on the frosting and sticking random pieces of candy and fruit loops anywhere she could.</div>
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Less is more is not a concept she understands. And that's perfectly okay. As we drove home she announced it had been even more fun than she'd thought it would be.</div>
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It was a lot of fun. So much so, that now I really want to make one of my own. I have plenty of leftover candy. I just might have to pick up some more graham crackers and frosting during this weekend's grocery shopping event. If my family can have annual competitions for best jack-o-lantern, I think it would be just as fun to start a competition for gingerbread houses.</div>
<br />Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-7707625822616217782013-12-02T22:41:00.003-06:002013-12-02T22:41:58.220-06:00It's always fun until...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
... someone breaks a tooth and the dog poops on the ice. (Though not in that order.)</div>
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This year's Thanksgiving celebration will be remembered not so much for the turkey as for the events that distracted us from it. It started with a simple text from my brother "Tell AJ to throw his skates in the car. I bet Diamond Lake will be plenty thick with no snow."</div>
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What a fantastic idea! Growing up, I can only remember one Thanksgiving when we were able to skate. I mentioned it to AJ and he pointed out he'd never skated on a lake before. And so we set out. It was like a scene created by Norman Rockwell.</div>
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Smiling kids in bright colored jackets, making the most of this winter day. Out on the ice, there were plenty of bumps near shore, but the kids easily skated around them.</div>
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And farther out, the ice was fairly smooth. Even the dog joined in the fun.</div>
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And amazingly, Gus behaved himself. He stayed near us and didn't try to steal anyone's gloves.</div>
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Everything was perfect until...</div>
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Oh, yes. He did. A steaming, stinky pile right there on the ice. </div>
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But even that wasn't enough to take away from our perfect day. We managed to get a family photo that will work for Christmas cards this year. (So if you're on our list, act surprised when you see this picture.)</div>
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Eventually, I got cold and headed into the house with my camera. I uploaded photos from our idyllic morning onto Facebook, but before I could even finish posting them, our idyllic morning reached an abrupt end. AJ came into the house crying. AJ very rarely cries, so I knew it was something, but at first couldn't figure out what was wrong. There was no blood. His glasses weren't broken. Then he lifted up his slightly swollen lip. </div>
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He'd been skating backwards when he hit an ice ridge and tripped, face planting himself on the ice and cracking off his front tooth. </div>
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Just try and find a dentist on the Friday after Thanksgiving when you're 100+ miles from home. Even with the wonderful help and recommendations of my orthodontist sister-in-law, we couldn't find a dentist that was open who could squeeze him in. Finally I called our dentist, which was also closed, but through them I was able to make arrangements for a dentist to meet us Friday night to seal and protect what was left of his tooth.</div>
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Once AJ learned that this wouldn't interfere with his weekend hockey tournament, plus would likely mean he'd get out of at last part of a day of school on Monday, he calmed down remarkably. Ibuprofen was enough to ease any pain.</div>
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Three days later, he again has a "tooth". It's a temporary solution - a filling that that will likely crack off any time he bites wrong anytime during the next eight or nine years. But that's how long we need to wait for his teeth and mouth to stop growing so we can have a permanent crown put on his tooth.</div>
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AJ wasn't a fan of the Novacaine or drilling process. But he sure enjoyed going back to class afterward. Everyone wanted to check out his new tooth and AJ was more than happy to show it off. I'm just wondering how often we'll be repeating this process, and how expensive of a face plant this is going to turn out to be.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-53498771916095890132013-12-01T11:32:00.002-06:002013-12-01T11:32:49.059-06:00My little angel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After last year's less than successful <a href="http://growingupkazel.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-reluctant-angel.html" target="_blank">Sunday School Christmas program experience</a>, my kids are ready for it this year. Alex, making sure he won't have to wear angel wings and a halo, volunteered to be one of the narrators. Sydney, meanwhile, loving the costume from last year, signed up again to be an angel. But this year, that means she has to memorize a line.</div>
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It took us a few hundred times of repeating it, but she's got it down pat. (I can type it without looking, too)<br />
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Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace to all men on whom his favor rests.</blockquote>
After Sunday School this morning, I asked her how the rehearsal went.<br />
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"Good! I remembered my line!"<br />
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"Do you know when to say it?" I asked.<br />
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"In 14 days."<br />
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"Right. That's when the Christmas program is. But do you know when during the show to say your line?"<br />
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"I think I say it right after the big angel."<br />
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I checked the script. Actually her line comes after a narrator. Good thing there's still two more weeks to work on it.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-57661809457153947232013-11-28T10:14:00.001-06:002013-11-28T10:23:09.956-06:00Thanksgiving snow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It snowed last night - I'm guessing three to four inches. Our wonderful next door neighbor already plowed most of our driveway. So on my way out to grab the newspaper, I had to clear only the sidewalk.</div>
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"Awww," AJ complained when he saw what I'd done. "I wanted to shovel."</div>
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Can you tell it's the first measurable snowfall of the year?</div>
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I reminded him there was still the area right outside the garage that needed to be cleared, and so after breakfast, the kids excitedly geared up in snow pants and boots and headed out the door. Knowing how they think and hoping to head off the disappointment early, I warned, "It's really fluffy snow. It's not the kind that works good for snowballs and snowmen."</div>
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I could have saved my breath.</div>
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Ten minutes later, Sydney was pounding on the front door. She can't turn the handle with her mittens on, and would never think to take her mittens off. I answered the door.</div>
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"Mom! We're making a snowman! I need stuff for it." ("Stuff" is code word for a carrot and whatever else can serve as facial features.)</div>
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"I told you, this snow is not going to work for that. Go play something else." </div>
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I returned to the kitchen where I was attempting to make my first ever apple pie from scratch. Two minutes later Sydney was back, pounding on the front door.</div>
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"Mom! We're going to use stuff outside to make the snowman."</div>
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"Okay." (Did I need to know that?) "Come get me when you've got something for me to see."</div>
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Back to peeling apples. </div>
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A few minutes later, more pounding. "Mom! We made a snowman, but we need a carrot!"</div>
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This I had to see. I grabbed a baby carrot and a red gummy worm. And my camera and boots. Sydney was excitedly waiting outside the garage. "We named it ..."</div>
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I couldn't understand the name. It sounded like either Alice or island. I was distracted by the sight of the driveway.</div>
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"I shoveled it!" Sydney told me proudly.</div>
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"Yeah, I can sure see that."<br />
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Around the corner we walked. And there was the snowman.<br />
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"It's kind of puny," AJ admitted.<br />
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"Puny" doesn't begin to describe the small mound of snow, half of which tipped over from the weight of the baby carrot.<br />
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AJ restacked with slightly better success.<br />
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"We named it 'eyeless'. Because it has no eyes," AJ said.<br />
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But of course.<br />
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They went on to build another snowman. And Sydney came running back inside several more times in search of "stuff". They named the new one Larry. For no particular reason.<br />
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I went back to baking my pie. It turned out like this:<br />
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I have happy, healthy, imaginative (and at least for this morning - cooperative) children. A wonderful husband who doesn't have to work today. A mostly shoveled driveway. And pie.<br />
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How could I not be thankful?Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-60879854537695793452013-11-25T08:12:00.001-06:002013-11-25T08:12:15.592-06:00Cutting our losses<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Some time last winter, I think it was in March, Sydney decided she was ready for a new hairstyle. She'd been looking adorable in a bob for long enough and instead wanted her hair to look just like mine, which meant growing out her bangs.</div>
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I tried to talk her out of it. I knew it wasn't a fun process. But she was sure, and quite honestly, I thought it'd be sweet to look back one day and torment, I mean remind her, that she once wanted the same hairstyle as her mom. And so we started letting her go shaggy.</div>
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We did our best to keep the bangs off her face. For special occasions, I convinced her to sit still long enough for a french braid. But that didn't happen often.</div>
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By early summer, I debated whether to get my hair cut into bangs. It'd be a far easier solution if the goal was to look the same. </div>
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But still we let those bangs grow. Ponytail bands worked okay.</div>
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As did barrettes and clips...</div>
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Hair bands, not so well...</div>
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Eight months later, Sydney's bangs are just about long enough to tuck behind her ears. But this weekend, she'd finally had enough.</div>
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"Mom, can I have a bob, again?"</div>
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"What?!?" The worst is over, I wanted to scream. All those months of shagginess are about to pay off. But then I remembered one key thing. It had been her idea to grown out her bangs in the first place. So let it be her idea to cut them off.</div>
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"I look normal, again," she said, looking in the mirror. But to everyone else, she looks different, and that's exciting to her.<br />
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"Jayce said I looked totally different," she excitedly announced last night after seeing a friend at her brother's hockey practice.<br />
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And then a new thought. "I wonder if Mrs. Durand (her first grade teacher) is going to recognize me."<br />
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"I'm pretty sure she will," I said. "And I'll bet she likes it."<br />
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Reading at bedtime last night, Sydney did an even better job than usual. "Do you suppose it's because you can see better without all that hair in your eyes?" I teased.<br />
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Sydney just giggled. There's nothing like eight months of trying something new to make you realize that what you had to begin with wasn't so bad after all.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-41886340525252081822013-11-14T19:56:00.001-06:002013-11-14T19:56:02.932-06:00Halloween isn't over until the pumpkins are off the porch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm not sure which is worse: that I'm just now getting around to writing about Halloween? Or that the jack-o-lanterns you're about to see are still sitting on my front porch?</div>
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Each year the kids get a little more independent at pumpkin carving, and a lot more opinionated regarding how they want it to look. Which means they start strong, and then want me to help once it becomes clear to them that they won't be able to carve anything too intricate on their own. But I do make them scoop out the innards on their own. AJ makes the most of it:</div>
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While Sydney tolerates this gooey but necessary step: (note the elaborate drawing Sydney had already created.)<br />
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This is the first year I trusted AJ with a knife.<br />
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Here are our finished masterpieces. What, might you ask, is up with that odd, non-carved gourd between AJ and me?</div>
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Why, that's the work of my dearly beloved, who clearly was not in a pumpkin-carving mood this year. It started at the store when we purchased our pumpkins. Jeff picked a bumpy gourd.</div>
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On the night we set aside for carving, Jeff had a hockey meeting and so missed most of the fun. When he got home, he quickly looked around for an alternative decorating idea.</div>
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And that's when he spied the bag of puffballs in Sydney's craft supplies. He grabbed a glue stick and was finished in about a minute.</div>
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While I give him points for creativity, I've got to say that when the lights go out, his technique just doesn't cut it.</div>
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Halloween night was cold and wet. My swamp zombie and Rapunzel bride went trick-or-treating with friends Noah (injured - note the real cast - football player) and Elizabeth (the blue fairy from Tinkerbell).<br />
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As always, they collected far more candy than they could ever possibly need. But it's all good. Because two weeks later, as I type this, I'm able to munch on M&Ms and Gobstoppers. Gotta love the sugar rush!Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-74384724739928007632013-11-05T21:48:00.002-06:002013-11-05T21:51:56.569-06:00The proposal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Is it a sign that I'm getting old that I'm suddenly recognizing so many anniversaries of various key events? Tonight is one of them. It was 15 years ago this evening that I got what is probably the best surprise of my life. </div>
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I was working in the newsroom at WDIO. It was two days after the election of Jesse Ventura as Minnesota's governor. It was the start of a sweeps month and I was writing a series piece on World War II veterans to air later. These are key details to know because had Ventura not been elected, prompting a whole lot of extra media coverage, this would have happened a day earlier. And had it been a regular day of reporting for me, I would have been a little more prepared (i.e. I would have combed my hair and re-applied my make up) when the producer came running up to me in a panic, "Dana! Denny's in the bathroom throwing up. We need you to read the six o'clock tease!"</div>
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After a frantic 60 to 90 seconds (that's all the warning I got), I was looking as presentable as I was going to get and had an ear piece stuck in my ear for this life-changing moment:</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxqeOY-S-FOE13r0nnrdqQ299yo1qHjah_RPqiZ2g85rB8mlQqPLOx7EcjqW07hPIVWEbsFjbrCZHFgQ24ZYQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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I got asked a lot afterward if I was surprised. I wasn't surprised he asked, because I knew we'd reached that point in our relationship. But I was absolutely stunned that he asked me in that way. Never in a million years would I have guessed he would have done something so public.<br />
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We'd actually gone out to dinner the night before, before I knew we had any reason to celebrate. Jeff had set it up earlier in the week, assuming we'd be engaged by then. But as previously mentioned, with the stunning election of a former wrestler as governor, there was to much news coverage of that to allow time for something fluffy like a live marriage proposal. And so he had to wait a day. And when we were done we celebrated by eating leftover chicken at his friend Tim's house.<br />
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And I couldn't have been happier. I still couldn't be all these years later.<br />
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It's good that we have the video. My mind and emotions were racing so fast that day that my memories weren't the most accurate. I told people that night what had happened, and then watched the video and realized what really had happened.<br />
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What happened was that a whole lot of people managed to work together and keep a secret. They snuck Jeff into the studio and wrote dummy scripts. Fellow reporters hid in the bathroom (one even went so far as to put curlers in her hair) so that it'd look like there was no other option except me to read that six o'clock tease. Amazing!<br />
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We watched the video tonight with the kids. One of these days I need to convert it from VHS tape to a digital file. Jeff remembered how nervous he was that night. To me, he seemed pretty relaxed. I thought it was me who seemed nervous - I can tell by my unnaturally high pitched voice.<br />
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The kids enjoyed the clip. When it was done, they wanted to see if I was still wearing the same ring Jeff had given me back then. I let Sydney try it on my engagement ring, after which Jeff put it back on my finger and asked if I would marry him again.<br />
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In a heart beat!Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-46966958434362739192013-10-28T22:02:00.001-05:002013-10-28T22:02:39.992-05:00Daisy dreams come true at last<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Getting through the last few weeks has been almost as tough as the countdown to Christmas or a birthday. Sydney has been asking to be a Girl Scout for about nine months now - since about midway through last hockey season. It's been getting closer and closer. We signed her up. And then I signed up to be a troop leader. And then I had to go to several meetings to be certified to be able to be a leader. And all Sydney could do was wait.</div>
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She would stare longingly at the piles of paperwork and three-ring binder I accumulated at my various meetings. Never mind how overwhelmed I was at all the hoops that had to be jumped through. To her, as long as I was going to meetings, it meant that I got to be in Girl Scouts and she couldn't yet, even though it had been her idea.</div>
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But at last tonight was the night. Sydney's excitement turned into inspiration as she made up several songs on the spot to welcome her fellow Daisy troop members. She gave hugs to the girls she already knew, and asked at least a dozen times if she could help set out markers for the crafts. </div>
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We don't yet have the official uniforms for the girls. (That's one of my tasks for the next two weeks.) But she still came home loaded up with souvenirs (thanks to the organization of my co-leader, Jackie. She focused on the girls tonight while I met with the parents and handed out lots of paperwork.)</div>
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The girls, there are eight in all, colored pictures, and decorated folders and pumpkins. They also made a cute craft to help remember the Scout Law. </div>
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When we got home tonight, Sydney excitedly announced to Jeff she was going to show him the pledge of allegiance for Girl Scouts. "On my honor, I will try..."<br />
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"You mean the Girl Scout Law?" I reminded her of the correct name.<br />
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"Yes," she quickly agreed. "The Girl Scout Law poem is my favorite."Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-795469738857350582013-10-27T21:32:00.000-05:002013-10-27T21:32:21.294-05:00A head of Halloween<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My son, it turns out, does not appreciate my Halloween decorations. To be blunt, he thinks they're lame. Apparently pumpkins and my various candles just aren't scary.</div>
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In the spirit of compromise, I decided to let him choose some decorations to add to the collection. Which is why we now have a mini graveyard in our front yard.</div>
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But before setting it all out, he had a great idea. "Look, I should have thought of this for a costume," he exclaimed, stuffing the skull half into his shirt. "I look like I was born with a skull attached to my body."</div>
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"You do have a skull attached to your body," I reminded. "It's called your head."<br />
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"Oh."<br />
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And so we went to work.<br />
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It wasn't enough to simply lay the bone pieces on the ground like is shown on the package. No, AJ wanted to make it look like the skeleton was trying to claw it's way out of its grave.<br />
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Two tombstones, a couple of bones, some small plastic gates (thank goodness the ground isn't frozen yet or there's no way we could set it up) followed by fake spider webs wrapped around it all.<br />
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Last but not least, an overacting model to make it all complete. We set it up just enough to the side that hopefully no trick-or-treaters will trip on it as they come up to our house.<br />
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Meanwhile, the kids got to give their costumes a practice run this afternoon. It was the "Harvest festival" at their school. Once again, I've got one child going for the grotesque and the other trying to be a princess. How is it that these two could possibly come from the same gene pool?<br />
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It is taking Sydney forever to finish her homework tonight. But she doesn't seem to mind.</div>
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Her assignment is to write each of her spelling words five times. Were she to write them in a notebook, it probably would have taken five minutes max. But she whined when I reminded her of the homework because she wanted to play with her American Girl doll. And so we found the perfect solution.</div>
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Class is in session with Mrs. Glass at the chalkboard (a name she picked at random. I, meanwhile, became her assistant, named Miss Julie in honor of the secretary in her real life principal's office.)</div>
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For some reason, Mrs. Glass speaks in a weird accent - I think it's supposed to be English. I, meanwhile, was given the job of providing voice to Mary, the doll. Because Mary had to read the words out loud after Mrs. Glass wrote them on the chalkboard. Miss Julie's other job was to erase the chalkboard each time Mrs. Glass needed to write the words again.</div>
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Like all good teachers apparently do, Mrs. Glass would tap the chalk on the board repeatedly to make a point. She also made sure to get down on her student's level in order to be more engaged.</div>
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Mrs. Glass seems to struggle with which direction the letter 'c' is supposed to face. Hopefully Sydney will have been luck remembering on the spelling test. Luckily only one word, 'call', has the letter 'c' in it. Based on how this assignment went, I suspect she'll either ace the test or get, at most, just one wrong.</div>
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Class dismissed.</div>
Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-282240713638638092013-10-24T00:39:00.000-05:002013-10-24T00:39:04.261-05:00Slide. Splash. Repeat.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of the reasons I started this blog waaaaayyyy back when is because I'd fallen so far behind in scrapbooking that by the time I finally got around to putting pictures in albums, I'd forgotten the cute stories that went with them. And now that same problem seems to be striking my blogging efforts.</div>
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A couple weeks ago, while visiting family in the Twin Cities, we stayed at a hotel/waterpark near Elk River. I'm sure my kids made some wonderfully cute comments, but I didn't write them down, and now I can't remember them.</div>
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What I do recall is that Syndey - no surprise - was in the water constantly.</div>
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She's been asking if/when we could go on vacation again to Michigan, pretty much ever since we left Michigan last summer, primarily because she wants to return to the waterpark there.</div>
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Meanwhile, AJ discovered a big slide that wasn't too scary for his overly cautious nerves. And suddenly he was the one who couldn't be stopped. Up the steps, down the slide, into the water, and repeat. Again. And again.</div>
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And again.<br />
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And again. This is the face of a boy who's not just having fun, but who has conquered a longstanding fear.<br />
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And where was Sydney all this time? Playing in the water. Any water she could find. The kiddie area. The water basketball area. The floating path. The hot tub with Mom. It was all good.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UWQfJT5oE8M/UmhscldmaRI/AAAAAAAAM3w/p1toKmmDbGc/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UWQfJT5oE8M/UmhscldmaRI/AAAAAAAAM3w/p1toKmmDbGc/s320/021.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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And of course they're now asking when we can go back. As a waterpark it wasn't bad, but the rest of the hotel was about as basic as they come. For instance, good luck getting a pizza delivered to your room. There was no phone book in the room. And once the pizza was ordered and delivered, good luck signing the credit card slip because there was no pen in the room. What hotel room doesn't include a cheap plastic pen and small pad of paper? Not this one.<br />
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Though the shampoo smelled really good. So it's all about priorities, I guess.<br />
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AJ, I suspect, will always have fond memories of this place, if for no other reason than he finally felt brave.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-79013619014283068002013-10-22T20:06:00.002-05:002013-10-22T20:06:41.262-05:00It lives to drive another day <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's almost 10 years old and topped 150,000 miles earlier this fall. It's cluttered and unwashed (which is normal) and now smells like an oily machine shop (Bonus!)</div>
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But it's home in my garage again. And it starts. And it drives. And I'm very, very happy because I really wasn't ready to say goodbye to it quite yet.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ClL2J1fE4y8/UmcTZkU2y4I/AAAAAAAAM3I/IqCWw0z-qro/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ClL2J1fE4y8/UmcTZkU2y4I/AAAAAAAAM3I/IqCWw0z-qro/s320/002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It's silly to feel an attachment to a car. Especially to a car I once argued we shouldn't buy because it was too expensive and I'm a cheapskate. But Jeff really wanted it. "It's probably the only time in my life I'll ever be able to buy a new car," he said.<br />
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And he'd just returned from an overseas deployment, and I was so happy to have him home that I said, "Fine, dear. We'll get it. Even with the heated seats, which is absolutely a luxury we don't need."<br />
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But then somehow I ended up being the one to drive it most of the time. And soon I was asking why we hadn't splurged to get the heated steering wheel, too.<br />
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This car brought us to the hospital the night AJ was born, and brought our new family home a few days later. (I think it also provided our transportation when Sydney was born, but between the labor pains and subsequent sleep deprivation, I can't remember for sure.)</div>
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But what makes this vehicle the most special is what it taught me in the last two weeks: to trust that God is always watching over me.</div>
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The adventure started two weeks ago. Driving home from work, I was focused on stopping at the school to register AJ for hockey. Suddenly the car started making a weird noise. It wasn't the radio or anything rattling in the console. I hit the gas and the noise got louder. I hit the brakes and it got a little quieter, but not much. Just as I reached the main intersection in town, I braked to stop and, boy, did the car ever stop. The battery light came on and something - either smoke or steam - started billowing out from under the hood.</div>
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I jumped out of the car, reaching back in to turn on the hazard lights and grab my cell phone. Almost immediately, (either the first or second car to come upon me) a random stranger stopped and offered to help push me out of the intersection. Before he had a chance to do that, by wonderful coincidence, my next door neighbor happened to show up<i> in his tow truck </i>and asked if I needed a lift. Then, while he was busy hooking up my car, AJ's old hockey coach happened to drive by and stopped to see if I needed help. Who has luck like this?!? </div>
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As he drove me home, Cory theorized it the problem was a serpentine belt, something he'd be able to fix that night. But a short time later he called with the bad news. It wasn't that. He suspected the engine was shot and offered to tow it wherever we wanted for a second opinion. He also offered to let us use their spare car until we figured out what we were going to do.</div>
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My mind was still reeling trying to figure out how we could afford two car payments, but I gratefully accepted his offer.</div>
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Meanwhile, Jeff got on the phone with our other neighbor - the one who works at a car dealership and helped us buy our minivan. Tim immediately offered to start looking for a used car for us. And then asked if we'd like to borrow one of their cars.</div>
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Again, I ask, who has luck like this?!? We are so blessed to have such good neighbors.</div>
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My mind continued to race. We'd just ordered carpet to replace what our old cat had damaged. It was scheduled to be installed the following week, but I was wishing we'd waited another week so the charge would go on the following month's credit card bill. And we'd just bought tickets to see Don Rickles perform at Mystic Lake. Add up the cost of the tickets, hotel stay, dinner and drinks and it'd probably be a $300-$400 evening.</div>
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And that's when I noticed the message light blinking on our phone. Voice mail message #1 was from the flooring place, apologizing that the carpet we'd ordered was on back order and we'd need to push back installation by a week. Voice mail message #2 was from the Mystic Lake box office, regretfully informing us that the Don Rickles performance and assuring us we'd get a full refund.</div>
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At that point I knew we'd get through this.</div>
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Over the next few days, talking with friends and colleagues, we heard about a place that fixes engines, and got an estimate for a used engine: $2,300. Meanwhile, we talked with Tim next door and asked about the trade in value for the car. As it - $100. Get it fixed - $2,400. </div>
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Could there be a more obvious sign from God?</div>
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Despite this, when Sunday rolled around, I considered cutting back on our normal offering amount. I knew we'd be cutting back on everything else, and tried rationalizing in my mind that it'd be okay. But I couldn't quite justify it and so wrote out the check for the normal amount.</div>
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The next day, Cory towed our car to the repair shop. Later that afternoon, I got a call from them asking who'd told us the engine was the problem, because the car started right up for them. It no doubt had serious problems, but it wasn't the engine.</div>
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The next day (last Tuesday) they ran whatever diagnostic tests they do and determined the frost plug blew out, damaging the starter in the process. The head gasket also was shot. But bottom line... estimate for repairs was $1,200. So in the space of a week we went from needing a new car, to a $2,300 repair, to the relatively bargain priced $1,200 fix.</div>
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And today, when at last the car was ready to be picked up, the final price was $1,143 - and they'd changed the oil and done a few other things as part of that total cost.</div>
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Did I mention all this happened during the relatively calm few weeks in between soccer and hockey? God will not give us more than we can handle. If ever I need a reminder, I just have to take a drive. In the car that I'm so thankful to be able to continue driving.</div>
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Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-65317439020103894312013-10-18T21:54:00.003-05:002013-10-18T21:54:44.304-05:00In good times and bad, and fire safety drills<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I started this post on Wednesday, and by "started" I mean I loaded a picture and video clip, but didn't quite get around to writing anything.</div>
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It's been an interesting week. Mostly good. Though I was really hoping to include a photo of me behind the wheel of my car, but I can't, because it's still not fixed. So I guess that story will have to wait until some time next week.</div>
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But I choose to focus on the good, which included wedding anniversary number 14 for Jeff and me. We tried really hard to be creative and re-create one of our wedding photo poses. But instead I ended up looking like I was blinking, and I can't help but notice how badly the picture frame behind us needs to be straightened.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Cs6Ez6fxb8/UmHwmbyXo_I/AAAAAAAAM24/T3F0rWiGjoc/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Cs6Ez6fxb8/UmHwmbyXo_I/AAAAAAAAM24/T3F0rWiGjoc/s320/003.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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To be fair, the original photographer was a professional. And our current photographer is eight and a half. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6Iv5FFSxNQ4/Ul9Xf6lmtQI/AAAAAAAAM2o/Sd24Lc9EsHw/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6Iv5FFSxNQ4/Ul9Xf6lmtQI/AAAAAAAAM2o/Sd24Lc9EsHw/s320/004.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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Other exciting news of the week: it was fire safety week for first graders, which meant we got to do a family fire drill. Those are so much fun! We haven't gotten to do one of those <a href="http://growingupkazel.blogspot.com/2011/10/fire-drill.html" target="_blank">since AJ was in first grade</a>. </div>
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This time around we weren't quite so organized. During dinner one night this week, Sydney reminded us we were supposed to have already signed the slip saying we'd done the drill and sent it back to school with her. Once again, it's the curse of being the second child. With AJ, we carefully plotted a time to catch the kids off guard and Jeff snuck out of the room to trigger the smoke detector. With Sydney, after she reminded us, I looked at Jeff and said, "Now's as good a time as any," and then did my best to make fire alarm sound.</div>
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The good news: the kids remembered to head to the mailbox, AJ did not yell at everyone to get into one line, the dog responded relatively calmly and waited for me to clip on his leash, and now that the cat is gone, no one feels guilty about heading out of the house without her.</div>
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So all in all it was a successful drill.</div>
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When we returned to the house, Sydney demonstrated what else she's learned as part of fire safety week:</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwiGHMWTkziv89xnls6ObhjJcJm3nP5Pg1JGT8cR7l1IuSR0rrMT2byoVsHscbZyd9dY22SKkeMhVv7Hazr4Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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I noticed she added a move beyond the traditional "stop, drop and roll" and asked her why she covered her face with her hands.<br />
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"So smoke wouldn't get in your face."<br />
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Smart kid. Let's hope we never have to do this for real.<br />
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Now if I could just get my car back, all would be well.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-83110231473272129242013-10-14T22:10:00.003-05:002013-10-14T22:10:37.493-05:00Inspired to write<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Inspiration can come from anywhere. Or anyone. Or anything.</div>
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When you're talking about inspiration to write, each writer's source is different. For me, it's sometimes a need to express myself. Writing helps me work through complicated thoughts or feelings. Sometimes I'm inspired by my audience and the desire to share with them something I think they will find interesting.</div>
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For Sydney, inspiration must come from the tooth fairy. Because twice now, when she's lost a tooth, (and pretty much no other time) she's reached for her diary to record this most exciting news.</div>
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Dear Diary, I lost my second tooth.</blockquote>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-naXktWYnC2s/UlytudJKjLI/AAAAAAAAM2U/oZfYbV9BQ5A/s1600/1383769_10151742602642362_667698233_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-naXktWYnC2s/UlytudJKjLI/AAAAAAAAM2U/oZfYbV9BQ5A/s320/1383769_10151742602642362_667698233_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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For weeks now, Sydney has wiggled her finger around on her tooth, insisting that the tooth is loose. She's requested apples for snacks and corn on the cob for dinner, but the tooth remained firmly in her mouth.<br />
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In recent days, I could at last tell it was loose. Sydney could twist it in her mouth. But still it stayed in place.<br />
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Finally this past weekend, with little fanfare and thankfully little blood, the tooth came out. Sydney wiggled or twisted it just enough and out it came. She of course has since had to tell just about everyone she's seen, "I pulled out my tooth myself."<br />
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When you're six, there's nothing like a lost tooth to remind me you that all is right with the world. And once she recorded this this history news in her diary, she went on to ask for help spelling the other major development in her life.<br />
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I am finally in girl scouts.</blockquote>
If you see her, don't let on that you know all this. It's very important that no one peak at the top secret stories in her diary. I'm the only one who knows, and I'm sure that will only last for as long as she needs help with spelling.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-29243026936441677792013-10-13T16:33:00.000-05:002013-10-13T16:33:16.158-05:00Hockey during the off season and other things that make life hectic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The longer I go without writing, the harder it is to get started. Should I just jump in with the latest news as if I haven't had a two week absence? Should I try to write one massive post about everything that's been going on? Or do I try to pick up where I left off and eventually I'll get caught up?</div>
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Maybe I'll just start writing and see what happens next. And by "what's next", I'm hoping that doesn't mean another two week absence.</div>
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This is supposed to be our calm month. We're in between soccer and hockey seasons, which should translate into a slower-paced schedule. Except in the last week one of our cars died. (Three days after we got a flat tire on our other vehicle.) There was hockey registration, and Girl Scout leader training (that's going to be my next adventure) and, oh yes, even though it's not hockey season, we still had hockey. Six straight days of it.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6-_QQbbi1UA/UlsHSNKtizI/AAAAAAAAM1s/XceLz0-SoZI/s1600/043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6-_QQbbi1UA/UlsHSNKtizI/AAAAAAAAM1s/XceLz0-SoZI/s320/043.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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We signed AJ up for a week long camp in Cloquet. We were able to register him as a Squirt, which means he was skating with kids who were one or two years older and bigger than he was. It was a good challenge for him, and for the most part he held his own.<br />
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One unexpected bonus of the camp was one of the coaches who showed up. Jamie Langenbrunner - a Cloquet native who just wrapped up a nearly 10 year career in the NHL (and who apparently had a son skating in the same camp.)<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E-pEos2TjYY/UlsHUjTLUcI/AAAAAAAAM10/lXx3OqBshsI/s1600/050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E-pEos2TjYY/UlsHUjTLUcI/AAAAAAAAM10/lXx3OqBshsI/s320/050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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How many eight-year-olds can say they skated with a professional hockey player? After the third practice, AJ dug through his hockey cards, and sure enough! Armed with the card and sharpie marker, AJ couldn't wait to head back to the rink where, on the next night, he got it autographed.</div>
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And a picture! Note the gloves in the photo below and in the picture on the card. "He was wearing the same gloves!" AJ noted in awe.<br />
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Another fun part of the camp - getting to skate with a new friend. AJ's buddy Lucas, who just moved her from Superior, also registered for the camp. The boys will be on the same team come winter, and had a great time practicing together.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4jNUEX9dpig/UlsHi1JivLI/AAAAAAAAM2E/gUkqC0Ds3zQ/s1600/053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4jNUEX9dpig/UlsHi1JivLI/AAAAAAAAM2E/gUkqC0Ds3zQ/s320/053.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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But now we're done, and should have three hockey-free weeks ahead of us. With all that spare time, I'll hopefully find time to write.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-7359519511203820522013-09-26T20:37:00.000-05:002013-09-27T06:12:32.124-05:00She didn't live foreverOver the years she's been called the cat that will never die and that &#%$ cat that will live forever just to irritate my husband. She's been unfortunate from the start - saddled with a name that was picked before I knew I'd be getting a female cat.<br />
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Spike.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M-HR030XPH4/UkTIhuyIfWI/AAAAAAAAM0I/8VAEYGT2zPg/s1600/145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M-HR030XPH4/UkTIhuyIfWI/AAAAAAAAM0I/8VAEYGT2zPg/s320/145.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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She's been with me for more than 18 years. I don't know what that equals in cat years, but in human years, that's most of my adult life. Here's how young I was when I first brought her and her sister Maddie home after responding to a free kitten ad in the newspaper:</div>
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Our relationship can best be described as complicated. Spike was not an easy cat to love. She wasn't as pretty or affectionate as Maddie. But I couldn't love her less, just differently. While Maddie came across as beautiful but dumb, Spike looked ornery and conniving. Maddie could pull off a "who me?" look even when caught in the act. Spike looked guilty no matter what. But Spike liked me and trusted me, and she ignored everyone else. As long as she had me, she needed no one else. And so I loved her with a fierce protectiveness.</div>
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To be fair, I was probably not an easy human for her to love. I inflicted all sorts of crazy ideas on them. Since they were my first babies, I featured them proudly on Christmas cards each year. Here's from 1995 (message: Merry Christmas from our set to yours) when I borrowed some lights from the TV station and started a small fire in my apartment:</div>
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The next year I tried an easier idea: I brought them to work with me for a photo on the news set. Did I mention Spike also hated car rides? Another unpopular idea. </div>
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I gave up on fancy after that. It was me and and the cats under the Christmas tree in 1997.</div>
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Fast forward to 2001, Jeff and I were now married and had just bought the land where we now live. By then we'd added a hyper dog to the mix, and brought them all for the photo opp. Look hard and you can find Spike showing her lack of cuddliness in my arms. (Worth noting: it was a year prior to this picture that I learned I was allergic to cats. And still I kept them. Because they were my first babies.)</div>
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Spike's biggest issue, however, was what the vet once termed "inappropriate urination". Translation: she peed where she pleased when she was displeased about anything.<br />
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Such as Jeff. He was competition for my attention and she had no time for that. Spike had to give Jeff a whole bunch of new hockey gear one year for Christmas. Had Jeff had his way, we'd have gotten rid of her back in 1999. During a pre-marriage counseling retreat, Spike was identified as the single biggest source of tension in our relationship.<br />
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Jeff is a saint for putting up with her as long as he did. For any of his colleagues, if you saw him doing a happy dance at work today, you now know why. He outlasted the cat.<br />
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(Maddie, for those who may not know, <a href="http://growingupkazel.blogspot.com/2009/03/farewell-sweet-kitty.html" target="_blank">passed away fourl years ago</a>.) And still Spike lived on. And on.<br />
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She had no interest in cat nip and other toys cats were supposed to play with. When a mouse got into our basement, she ignored it. Even when it pooped in her food dish. No lie.<br />
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If it was possible, Spike grew crankier and even less affectionate in recent years. She seemed to come out of her shell a bit during the couple months when we were in between dogs and she was the only pet. But ever since Gus joined our family, she's grown more and more withdrawn. Most of her days she'd spend hiding and sleeping in Sydney's closet or under her bed.<br />
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There have been more and more instances of "inappropriate urination". I knew the situation wasn't good, and in some ways wished she would die so so I wouldn't have to make the dreaded decision to end her life. Finally, last week, Jeff had had enough. And I don't blame him. The carpet in Sydney's room and on the stairs to the basement stinks beyond words and will have to be replaced.<br />
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Last Friday, I made the dreaded call to the vet. They could have gotten us in that day, but I wasn't ready. I purposely picked a day farther off to so that I could have just a few days more with her. I confined her to the basement so she'd do no more damage upstairs. And the days marched on. I started really looking at her and seeing how badly she was limping and how mentally dazed she often looked. How bad has she been for how long and I just didn't want to see it?<br />
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Spike stayed true to her character right up until the end. I brought her upstairs so the kids could say goodbye before school, and she managed to sneak away and hide behind our bed. She's always been able to sense when something unpleasant was imminent. Jeff and I had to pull the mattress and box spring off the bed in order to get her out. Why should this trip to the vet be easier than any other trip we've made? At last I set off with her to the vet.<br />
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As hard as it was, I needed to do it by myself. I needed to be there with her because I'm the only person she's ever trusted and needed. As always, she purred and yowled at the same time for the entire car ride and while we waited in the exam room. She managed to projectile shed fur and dandruff all over my clothes while we waited for the vet.<br />
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And then, in a matter of seconds, she was gone. I'm glad it was quick and painless. But it seems so unreal that a cat can be living, breathing and purring one moment, and then just a few seconds later be forever still.<br />
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We will never get another cat. My heart is heavy, but I know it's the right decision for me, my allergies and my relationship with my husband.<br />
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I will miss you, Spike.We grew up together, and I am thankful for the many years we shared.Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-42197004894226256132013-09-18T21:38:00.005-05:002013-09-18T21:38:52.308-05:00Adventures in vegetables<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One of these years I'm going to plant a vegetable garden.</div>
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I should mention I've been saying that for years. The problem is we'd have to do a lot of work just to create a garden space that's level; safe from rabbits, deer and a poorly trained golden retriever; and can be reached with a garden hose. And then there's all the work of planting and weeding and watering - a lot of which needs to be done right when I'm needing to run the most miles while training for the half marathon. Plus, I'm kind of lazy.</div>
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And so one more year has passed with no garden in our back yard.</div>
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Last year, I at least started growing herbs in a large pot, and had relatively good results. This year, I let the kids talk me into expanding my container gardening efforts by planting a couple tomatoes. In a moment of weakness, or perhaps of forgetfulness on my part that I usually kill plants, I broke down and spent $6 to buy two small tomato plants at Home Depot several months ago. </div>
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All summer long we've watched the plants grow on our back step, making sure it had enough water but not too much. At last two small tomatoes appeared. Slowly they grew bigger, but stayed green. And then, one day it finally turned red. With black spots that might have been mold.</div>
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We quickly plucked it and cut off the potentially bad part, and then used the rest of it - along with a bunch of other tomatoes we bought on sale at Cub for far less than what we spent on the two plants, to make salsa.<br />
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Meanwhile, we've discovered a far more reliable method for acquiring fresh produce. The Saturday morning farmers' market about three miles from our house.<br />
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Sydney came with me two weeks ago and had a great time. All those tables covered with brightly colored vegetables displayed right at her eye level for her to choose from and carry in her bag. Sydney simply couldn't resist!<br />
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"Let's get these!" She'd excitedly point at vegetables she doesn't even like.<br />
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And I'm pretty sure I got a lot of extra veggies simply because who can resist such a cute helper? Several times, as I was paying for something, I'd hear one of the vendors say, "Throw in those loose carrots," or "Here, just take all of these. She'll love them."<br />
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I have to admit I might also have gotten a bit carried away. My refrigerator now holds a big bunch of kale. I've only used kale once, and don't recall the recipe, or if we even like it. But just in case, I'm ready!<br />
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Last Saturday we returned. This time with AJ. He thought it was pretty awesome, too. Fresh green beans are his new favorite healthy snack. And tomatoes.</div>
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Sunday, I attempted to can some of those tomatoes. I had 80 percent success. Five pint jars sealed with diced tomatoes inside. Two hours later, one of the lids popped up. But the other four worked. </div>
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I also roasted some of the tomatoes and made salsa. But then we ate it before I attempted to save any for later. I think I'm going to have to make some more.</div>
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I might even have a few more homegrown tomatoes to add to the mix. Tomato #2 from the back yard is finally ripe. And three other small green tomatoes have now appeared. Hopefully they'll have enough time to grow and turn red before frost gets them.</div>
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Thank goodness for farmers markets to back me up.</div>
<br />Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-29141628547915954442013-09-17T22:26:00.000-05:002013-09-17T22:26:20.638-05:00Are you ready for some football?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The end of the fall sports season is almost here. After that, we get a whole month off before hockey chaos begins again. Sydney's soccer season ends this week. AJ's soccer season ends next week. And football already wrapped up.</div>
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Wait a minute.</div>
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Football's over?</div>
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How did that happen? We went through a whole season - his first season, I might add - and I didn't post a single story about it.</div>
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Mother of the year I am not. But at least I took pictures.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-847Qv8p--To/Ui0XzpXj2aI/AAAAAAAAMxA/2UAu3dg28LA/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-847Qv8p--To/Ui0XzpXj2aI/AAAAAAAAMxA/2UAu3dg28LA/s320/003.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I discovered early on that it's even harder to identify a child in football gear than it is in hockey gear. See that little #7 in the center of AJ's jersey in the above photo? Now try to follow that number when they bend over at the line of scrimmage and then all run into each other. Try to find AJ in the photo below.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wCfT2Kyk4tI/Ui0X-stJVeI/AAAAAAAAMxM/PjpulkidwWI/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wCfT2Kyk4tI/Ui0X-stJVeI/AAAAAAAAMxM/PjpulkidwWI/s320/006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here's the hint that finally worked for me. Look for his shoes. They're silver with neon green on the heels.</div>
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Meanwhile, if he's facing you, you can sometimes pick up the glare of his glasses.</div>
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This sure is a swell sport.<br />
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And like all first-year seasons, the games move at a brutally slow pace. It takes the coaches a couple minutes to get all the players lined up in their appropriate positions. Then at last they hike the ball. There are five to 15 seconds of motion. And then it starts all over again.<br />
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And of course, AJ loves it. He comes off field excitedly declaring things that make no sense to me.</div>
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"Mom, I pancaked a guy!"</div>
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"That's great honey. I have no idea what that means."</div>
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He and his team, along with all the other teams in the league, were recognized during half time at a recent high school game. Too bad it was a Cloquet high school football team. (Esko doesn't offer youth football) Even more annoying: the parents had to pay for tickets to get into the game and take pictures of their little darlings getting their medals.<br />
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To the league's credit, they made it exciting for the kids. They called out each one's name as they ran onto the field to get their medal.</div>
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Just one question remains. How does an 8-year-old who doesn't really watch much football, know what a "Tebow" is?<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NsU-snMZuxE/Ui0ZKrmLXTI/AAAAAAAAMxs/4NIYVbBNxH8/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NsU-snMZuxE/Ui0ZKrmLXTI/AAAAAAAAMxs/4NIYVbBNxH8/s320/019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AJ with friends Quinn and Noah (even if they did play for another team.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6953074781929497349.post-54895545832367193122013-09-11T20:23:00.001-05:002013-09-11T20:23:22.966-05:00911. 12 years laterTwelve years.<div>
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How could it possibly already have been 12 years?<br /><div>
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And somehow today I ended up almost exactly where I was on this horrible day in 2001.</div>
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Today, the sun was shining and the sky was clear. I heard several people comment on how similar the weather was 12 years ago. I don't remember what the weather was like back then. On that day, I'd been working in the basement of the Great Lakes Aquarium, where there are no windows and the foundation is so thick (in order to support the weight of all the water) that you get no radio or TV reception. I remember this because as the events of September 11 unfolded, I had to rely on my mother to email me updates because many news websites had frozen due to too many people seeking details.</div>
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I was able to enjoy today's weather because it happened to be the day that I and three colleagues had scheduled our weekly workout with a trainer. Julie gave us a couple of options for workouts and we chose to go outside. We grabbed small weights and headed for the bayfront, but then she decided to have us work out... get this... on the steps that run alongside the Great Lakes Aquarium. And as we used the steps for lunges, squats and other painful exercises, I happened to glance across the street where a small replica of the Statue of Liberty stands. And there was an honor guard surrounding it, holding a memorial in honor of those who died.</div>
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The coincidence was too much.</div>
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We decided to move our workout, so as to not become an inappropriate background for such a somber event. We grabbed our weights and turned around. Now facing Duluth's downtown, I spotted the two towers that stick out above the Century Link building. I've never noticed them before, but this time, on this day, couldn't help but notice how much their shape resemble mini versions of the twin towers of the World Trade Center.</div>
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So many lives touched, ended or forever changed. How lucky I am to still be here and be healthy. To be able to enjoy the bright sun and clear skies. To remember the loss of that day and the many people who served and sacrificed in the 12 years since then. Soldiers who are dying in Afghanistan now were the age of my son when the war on terror started.</div>
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Too many memories. Too important to forget.</div>
Danahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10985828745560924393noreply@blogger.com0