tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72249240854343241322023-11-16T05:13:41.003-06:00Curly By NatureThe Frizz of LifeCurly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.comBlogger521125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-73386432734636916372014-09-12T07:00:00.000-05:002014-09-12T07:00:00.911-05:00Why corn syrup granola bars are ok with me....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEi4eGB1lHX576SjeYMdvlk6KRB04s29nb-VEr8pFi8DoXQJGBa6ZuVMtkjj-ybPDlYlzHjFzN3l-VgQaiVyVJckGeHY-4mPkv5fnVPXXvYp0qVw9FcV57ZIV2eXplgDA2QVktc1_T4o/s1600/WIN_20140908_110813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEi4eGB1lHX576SjeYMdvlk6KRB04s29nb-VEr8pFi8DoXQJGBa6ZuVMtkjj-ybPDlYlzHjFzN3l-VgQaiVyVJckGeHY-4mPkv5fnVPXXvYp0qVw9FcV57ZIV2eXplgDA2QVktc1_T4o/s1600/WIN_20140908_110813.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This was my third attempt at homemade granola bars (my third recipe, I should say, I tried on recipe several times).<br />
It ended like they all do - in absolute failure.<br />
<br />
Back to Sams for that bulk box of Quaker chewy granola bars!<br />
<br />Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-38271368459008604322014-09-11T09:00:00.001-05:002014-09-11T09:00:21.902-05:00Understanding Historical PerspectiveSuch an intriguing title, isn't it? Sounds boring, I know, but stick with me here.<br />
<br />
I'm sure a million bloggers will blog about 9/11 today. Its been all over Facebook.<br />
<br />
But I had a new thought about it today - well, new for me.<br />
<br />
I was lying in bed, telling myself I really really needed to get up, when the radio turned back on. The dj was in the middle of "this day in history", and specifically, in the middle of reading a blurb about 9/11. There was no silent moment of remembrance, no emotion really, just a guy reading a paragraph like it was something that happened too long ago for anyone to remember. The next blurb was something that happened over 100 years ago.<br />
<br />
I was indignant. How dare they read over something so monumental as the attacks on 9/11 like it wasn't important?! I remember that day! There had been other tragedies in America since I was born, other wars, but that was the first BIG one I experienced and remember. And their reading made it seem like nothing.<br />
<br />
Then I thought - I wonder if that is how our veterans who were at Pearl Harbor, or Normandy Beach feel when their days roll around. We mention it on the news, read a little blurb, but there are a whole lot of Americans who didn't really experience that. Do they feel like we don't give it enough serious thought? Do they feel glossed over?<br />
<br />
I had one particular history professor that spoke a lot about historical perspective and bias. Everyone looks at history differently, based on their own personal experience.<br />
<br />
I didn't know anybody lost in the 9/11 attacks, I suffered no personal loss. So my remembrance is not as poignant as some people's. But it is no less important.<br />
<br />
My kids don't really get this day- they weren't even born yet, they weren't even thought of yet, Mr. Curly and I weren't even dating yet!<br />But I'm going to work on that. Because nobody should be made to feel that a major tragedy doesn't matter.<br />
<br />
So on our next big remembrance day, try to see the day from the POV of someone who has been there. I know I will try.Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-15491029189234017202014-08-25T16:35:00.000-05:002014-08-25T16:35:15.317-05:00Why I Follow....My best friend since I was 8, Miss CD, challenged me via Facebook (so this will be shared there as well), to explain why I love Jesus.<br />
<br />
It could be very simple - pastor's daughter, pastor's wife, grew up in the church.....<br />
But that's kind of the easy way out.<br />
So hold on, because this will be a bit of a read. Got your coffee (or, you know, pepsi)? Ok, let's go.<br />
<br />
First, to really understand why someone follows Jesus, why they love God the way they do, you have to understand where they come from.<br />
<br />
I'm kind of controlling. I like to make sure things are done just a certain way, the way I want it done. And so that makes me a tiny bit of a perfectionist, but not really, because I don't always care enough to make everything perfect (confused yet? So am I). Controlling. Check.<br />And I really want everyone to like what I do and approve of me and be amazed by the events I plan. Needy. Check.<br />
And my family is the most important thing in my life. If I let them down, I've let everyone down. I need their love and affection, I need to support them (so that someone needs me), and I need to make sure things are done just right just for them. Which means if I feel like I've failed, that I've disappointing them, well, that's pretty much the depths of failure right there. Disappointing my family (especially my dad and husband).<br />Loyal and hovering and scared of failure? Check, check, check.<br />
<br />
Mr. Curly recently informed me my life was ruled by fear. Yep, fear that I will fail and disappoint him. Fear that I won't be a good enough wife, a good enough mom, a good enough help mate or church worker or supporter.....<br />
<br />
I read a sign once that said "Anxiety (or depression or a nervous break down or something like that) isn't a sign of being too weak, but rather having been strong too long."<br />I get that. I get being to the point where you're stretched too thin that you just can't take one more single thing.<br />
<br />
A year ago I started taking celexa for anxiety and panic attacks. I was having panic attacks at absolutely random and increasingly frequent times. Putting my kids to bed? Panic attack. Traffic jam on a trip? Panic attack. Crowded restaurant? Panic attack. Walking through Walmart? Panic attack.<br />
Mr. Curly figured out pretty quick that giving me a little bit of control (letting me drive through the traffic jam, pass out the food in a crowded place or just make a decision without asking anyone) could at least slow down the descent into hyperventilation.<br />But then it got to where it physically hurt to hug my kids. And I was sad all the time. Just blah. Just no desire to even try because I was going to fail. I couldn't control all the stressful things around me, so why even try? And why was everybody wanting to talk so loud and touch me all the time?!?!<br />So I went and saw my doctor and got a little pill.<br />
<br />
Things got better pretty fast. (For those who care, I'm now on a 'weaning off the pill' regime, we'll see how it goes).<br />
<br />
But that is me. Controlling, anxious, needy, dependent on family, and yeah, sometimes my sense of humor can lean towards the stupid (but that's not such a bad thing).<br />
<br />
I've always known Jesus. I don't remember being saved, I just always followed Jesus. I do remember at 17 realizing that I had to have my own personal relationship with Christ, that I needed to say it, that I needed to make it real, and not rely on my parents faith anymore.<br />
It was a huge step, even for a goody-two-shoes who had always known Christ.<br />
<br />
I've made mistakes. Too many to count. I made some big ones this morning.<br />
I've blamed God for things that were my fault. I've doubted He knew what He was doing.<br />
I've hurt people.<br />
<br />
But Jesus loves me anyway.<br />
He gives me peace when I seek Him.<br />
He gives me chances to try again, instead of saying "Sorry, you've messed up too much, just let me do it."<br />
In fact, when I ask for forgiveness for stumbling in sin, He forgets it ever happened.<br />
You can disappoint God, I've done it. But when I confess, He forgets it. Clean slate, new chance. No more disappointment, or anything to live down.<br />
<br />
Starting at age 17 my favorite verse has been <b>1 Kings 3:9 "Give your servant a discerning heart... to distinguish between right and wrong."</b><br />
For the past year I've been memorizing, and teaching my children, <b>Philippians 4:4-9</b><br />
<b>"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: rejoice. Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, bring your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy- think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me- put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you."</b><br />
<br />
Life is not easy. Christ came to bring us life more abundant - as I've said before, higher highs, lower lows. Life gets pretty low sometime. I know. I've been there. In fact, this morning was a pretty low point and I'm not out of it yet. But I know that no matter how low I go, Jesus has been in the depths of hell and has risen to the heights of heaven. He has conquered all. And if He is with me in the depths, He will raise me up to the heights. <br />I ran across this verse this morning, <b>Haggai: 2:4-5</b> (condensed, which means, I cut some out): <b>Be strong, all you people of the land,' declares the Lord, 'and work. For I am with you,' declares the Lord Almighty. 'My Spirit remains among you. Do not fear.'</b><br />
<br />
God is always with me. Always. Period. There is no time when He is not here, not waiting for me to turn to Him. I have no reason to worry, to be anxious. The anxiety I face is a chemical imbalance that needs some help. It's a body thing. But in my spirit, in my soul, I can rest calmly in God's hands, knowing no matter what I do, He forgives, He forgets. He loves.<br />
<br />
And that's why I love Him.Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-79330070289999998042014-08-19T20:47:00.000-05:002014-08-19T20:48:04.933-05:00Mood HairsGrowing up, my parents had a friend who changed her hair according to her mood. One day she'd be a brunette, next a blonde, she might have even had blue hair at one point. The only thing I remember about her is going to meet her at the mall one day. We wandered and circled for almost an hour when my little brother finally asked my parents what color her hair was that day and we realized we had no idea! We had probably passed her and didn't even know it, because we were looking for a blonde, but was she blonde that day?<br />
<br />
I love my hair, but the curl pattern and my lack of skill with a blow dryer and other hair tools pretty much sticks me to a total of 2 different hair styles. Both of which I've worn since I was 12. I love pixie cuts, but forget about it (seriously, forget it, I tried in once in a fit of frustration and a 100plus degree heat wave). And punked out spikes? AWESOME! But, yeah, no hair tool talent.<br />
<br />
Mr. Curly prefers me to grow it out, which I've been trying for over a year now. It gets SO HOT. Last week in a fit of frustration I went to the bathroom and hacked some bangs in just to keep it off my face! Thankfully, they look alright, and blend nicely when I want them to.<br />
<br />
Tonight I went to Walmart for chicken, and came home with this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzcglFZhzbvU7QlT8B5ZxFLOSLfDDtBqH0k0KBVjmksQmuWqAXcoe6bFM3HtSpaqa48JLauyhn7Vi8s5hR7ib65e6DWRpEHR8-xLzQYshUPtBTXACcLJU2c_-iKKwuqR8bIZDnPxl17J8/s1600/Aug+19,+2014+8:40:57+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzcglFZhzbvU7QlT8B5ZxFLOSLfDDtBqH0k0KBVjmksQmuWqAXcoe6bFM3HtSpaqa48JLauyhn7Vi8s5hR7ib65e6DWRpEHR8-xLzQYshUPtBTXACcLJU2c_-iKKwuqR8bIZDnPxl17J8/s1600/Aug+19,+2014+8:40:57+PM.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Last September I highlighted my hair blonde. In the spring, I did chunky violet lowlights and deep red highlights. Those highlights have faded and grown out.<br />
So I impulsively tried Pepper Potts red hair.<br />
<br />
Here's what I got:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XJoDdAqI3Wy8JP46aGJH9sG0u_Ft6nbRw5c6nGFJxK8Fxi4472XswXqGfFgvu7pKyQ8dk-ExGrs1ZLF2aHDTbhGJqw42iFCV67xXN5scATG1UfqtwcWR-Jp0wms0fxMqg_45IA3weJA/s1600/WIN_20140819_204215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XJoDdAqI3Wy8JP46aGJH9sG0u_Ft6nbRw5c6nGFJxK8Fxi4472XswXqGfFgvu7pKyQ8dk-ExGrs1ZLF2aHDTbhGJqw42iFCV67xXN5scATG1UfqtwcWR-Jp0wms0fxMqg_45IA3weJA/s1600/WIN_20140819_204215.JPG" height="246" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
As expected, it didn't turn out as bright red. But the dark somewhat faded brown my hair has become in recent years is now nicely shiny with a hint of red. (It is still damp from washing). I'm sure once it dries it will be lighter and more red and I know it will curl more!<br />
<br />
Plus, I already have a plan for when this begins to grow out - deep burgundy. A hint of purple again will be nice. And my roots won't be as noticeable then.<br />
<br />
I think I might be turning into that friend my parents used to have.....Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-41775456440119076602014-08-12T11:30:00.001-05:002014-08-12T11:30:29.073-05:00Curly Hair vs. Straight Hair<em>I had this conversation with Curly Girl last night:</em><br />
<br />
CG (<em>who had worn her hair down for the day, and we had spent a lot of time outside</em>): Did you notice my hair today, Mom, when it was blowing in the wind?<br />
<br />
Me: I noticed it looked very pretty.<br />
<br />
CG: And straight<br />
<br />
Me: well, yeah, because your hair is so long <em>(it is now past her rear</em>), it is heavy and pulls the curls out. And you brushed it a lot this morning, which is good.<br />
<br />
CG: Well, yeah, but straight hair is beautiful. That's why I brushed the curls out.<br />
<br />
Me - <em>feeling a bit concerned</em>: Don't you think curly hair is beautiful?<br />
<br />
CG - <em>picking up on the fact that she might have offended me</em> - Mom, I like you, but I want my hair straight and beautiful.<br />
<br />
Me: What?<br />
<br />
CG: I LIKE YOU, but I want my hair STRAIGHT to be beautiful. Straight hair is beautiful.<br />
<br />
Me: Curly hair can be beautiful too. It doesn't have to be crazy and wild like mine usually is.<br />
<br />
CG: Your hair is fine. I want mine straight and beautiful.<br />
<br />
Me<em> with a sigh</em>: Well, that is fine. But remember, what truly makes you beautiful is your personality, your attitude and how you treat people. God looks at your heart, not your hair. You know that, right?<br />
<br />
CG: Yes, I know. <em>(sighing herself like its an old lesson</em>). But I still want my hair straight and beautiful.<br />
<br />
<em>Her braid was done, so she ran off at that point, leaving me, honestly, a little sad. And thinking maybe we should hack a foot of hair off her head so it would curl again and she could see it is beautiful that way too. But I made a deal with her that if she brushed it and didn't cry when I fixed it, she wouldn't have to cut it. And she has honored that deal spectacularly, so I will too.<br /><br />Maybe we just need to watch Brave again.</em>Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-1099775067782520482014-08-07T09:09:00.000-05:002014-08-07T09:09:09.320-05:00"A Few of My Favorite Things" (School edition) <i>A new version (maybe, someone else probably did it first and better) because it is the most wonderful time of the year (after Christmas) - back to school shopping!</i><br />
<br />
Notebooks and paper and pencils and rulers<br />
Folders and binders and "these ones are cooler"<br />
New tennis shoes that won't last until spring<br />
These are a few of my favorite things<br />
<br />
Fresh colored pencils and just the right scissors<br />
Glue sticks and "no you do not need those stickers"<br />
Princess t-shirts, Elsa's the brand new thing<br />
These are a few of my favorite things<br />
<br />
Boys in new jeans and iron man t-shirts<br />
Girls with patterned tights under those cute skirts<br />
These clothes definitely won't last until spring<br />
These are a few of my favorite things!<br />
<br />
When school starts, and the bell rings<br />
When the weather's hot<br />
I simply remember my favorite things<br />
And hope the whole list was bought!!!!<br />
<br />
<br />Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-65417910199387431932014-08-06T11:00:00.002-05:002014-08-06T11:00:56.504-05:00Bee Slow, Bee QuietMr. Curly is raising bees. Yeah. Yeah, you read that right. He has a few videos on youtube (or at least is working on getting them up there) calling himself the ignorant bee keeper.<br />
<br />
Here's how it all went down:<br />
<br />
We have some friends who noticed a lot of bee activity outside their house. And then a buzzing in the walls. And then stains leaking through the old lathe & plaster walls (they live in an old farm house a little bit out of town).<br />
<br />
They had to abandon a room due to the bees.<br />
<br />
So Mr. Curly did a lot of studying and researching, built a hive with his dad, and went and pulled bees out of the walls and floors and ceiling. They were EVERYWHERE.<br />
<br />
But now the house is bee free, and we have lots of honey and beeswax to use.<br />
<br />
Somehow, there was no queen (this swarm had split once before and we think something traumatic happened to any new queen they would've had), so we bought one. Who even knew you could do that?!<br />
<br />
The kids are FASCINATED by the bees. They repeat the rules to me often - be quiet, be slow - and then go sneak up to the hive and the observation window to see what they can see.<br />
<br />
Honestly, they give me the hee-bee-jee-bees (hahahahahaha).<br />
But, bees, yeah, we raise them now.Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-36032922175961264692014-08-01T10:19:00.000-05:002014-08-01T10:19:55.485-05:00Happy with my Magic NumberOne of my friends just had a baby. We went and visited her and her newest little in the hospital and for the first time EVER, holding a newborn didn't make me want a new one.<br />
<br />
Maybe it is because we had had a particularly awesome day.<br />
<br />
My three little Curly's had cleaned their rooms to the point where I could actually vacuum without me standing over them or yelling, I just got to praise them (2 beans in ALL the jars!).<br />
<br />
They voluntarily played in our yard for 2 hours without coming in and out or begging me to push them on the swing again and again and again. They blew bubbles and made up games and just had a great time. Came in all grimy and starving just in time for lunch - WHICH THEY ACTUALLY ATE.<br />
<br />
They got along during quiet time, doing worksheets to help prepare for school (which is coming up SO fast) and stayed there until I said they could be free. <br />
Then we went to the ice cream park. This park is huge and awesome, mostly because they can run everywhere and I can sit on a bench and crochet. Which is what I did.<br />
<br />
For over an hour, my three played together, following my guidance of ignoring the nasty-talking 5th graders who were running around.<br />
As I sat and watched them play, I thanked God for my THREE. With three, they have all learned to play with kids of varying age and skill levels without leaving anyone out. They've learned to share and have to wait an "extra" turn out while the other two do something. They've learned sometimes kids who are playing alone don't really want to be alone, but sometimes they do.<br />
<i>(A new little girl showed up and Curly Girl was trying to make friends with her. The girl finally said "would you please leave me alone, I'm trying to find my friends." I held my breath to see Curly Girl's response, she adores making new friends and is hurt when others won't play with her. I shouldn't have worried. She turned to her brothers and said "She just wants some alone time, let's go." And moved along.)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Plus, I got really great pictures like this:<br />
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(Curly Boy was taking Not Curly to the "secret entrance" into the playset)</div>
<br />
So yeah, that's probably why that new little baby didn't fill me with feelings of longing. I've got three little perfects to fill me up right here.Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-30595543905975278082014-06-30T15:38:00.002-05:002014-06-30T15:38:28.113-05:0010 Things I Need To RememberSometimes I need to remember....<br />
<br />
1. This will be the only summer they are 6, 5, and 3.<br />
2. 97 cents is an amazing deal on a beach ball that entertains them for hours.<br />
2a. They will play with those expensive toys again soon.<br />
3. Mud washes off with a little bit of soap and water.<br />
4. Sand vacuums out of carpets when tracked in by little feet.<br />
5. Catching bugs that creep me out is a good way to show how God gives us strength to face those fears...<br />
5a. and learn about nature in a real hands-on way.<br />
6. Oobleck is messy but not near as grossly messy as gak.<br />
7. Those stained clothes will soon be outgrown.<br />
8. Summer is definitely a shorter season than winter.<br />
9. Late bedtimes just mean more memories<br />
9a. and less time to wake me up at night!<br />
10. This messy family is a dream come true during good times and bad!Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-41282646964626822182014-05-09T14:17:00.001-05:002014-05-09T14:17:31.950-05:00Hans is NOT the Villian!At Christmas my in-laws took my kids to see Frozen. At Spring Break, they bought my kids the DVD.<br />
<br />
I won't lie, I love this movie. Olaf's summer serenade became my theme song as winter stretched on and on and on.<br />
<br />
But there is something that as been bugging me, so Mr. Curly finally in exasperation said "Write a blog and get it off your chest!"<br />
<br />
HANS IS NOT THE VILLIAN!!<br /><br />Being an avid Pinterest and (yes, sadly) tumblr follower, I've seen my fair share of Let It Go stuff. That's fine. But what really bothers me are the blogs and statements calling Hans the villain, and then saying he's bad at it because he doesn't have a villain song or die at the end.<br />
<br />
The villain is much less obvious. The villain is Elsa's depression and social anxiety. Her parents did the best they could, they loved their daughter. But she is dealing with a power that scares people, that scares her because it is so strong. And while the trolls warned them that fear would be her enemy, she couldn't fight that fear.<br />
<br />
Hans admits in the epic love song 'Love is an open door" that he's been searching for his own place - he even gestures to the city around them as he says it. He admits to Anna that he was using her because Elsa was unapproachable, and that Elsa's powers were going to make things easier for him.<br />
So yeah, he's not a nice guy. He's THIRTEENTH in line for the throne, he had brothers pretend he was invisible for 2 (or is it 3) years. Chances are, especially since when they throw him in the boat to send him home they say 'make sure his brothers know what he was up to", that his parents didn't have a lot of time for him. <br />
But he did take care of Arendale when Elsa and Anna ran off. He knew what to do to care for people and make sure they were all ok and nothing was lost.<br />
<br />
Back to Elsa's depression. "Let It Go" is actually the villain song in this Disney movie. Paraphrasing "I've left a life behind - I'm too relived to grieve, buried it in the snow, but the cold never bothered me anyway" She absolutely does not care who she hurt, what happened when she left, she is SO DONE, with hiding who she really is, SO DONE with pretending to be ok. She's tired of being scared, and she just doesn't care anymore. <br />That's a problem. <br />
<br />
But the trolls - THE TROLLS - that nobody can figure out why they are there, what purpose they serve in the movie, are right again. In "Little Bit of a Fixer-Upper" they say "people do bad things when they're mad or scared or stressed, but with a little bit of love...." and Anna figures it out.<br />
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Elsa doesn't realize how loved she is. When Anna sacrifices herself for Elsa (yes against Hans, give him a break, he was also scared of this girl who could freeze everything and thought he was saving Arendale from a monster. To be fair, everyone in town agreed with him.), Elsa FINALLY knows she's loved. She gets it.<br />
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And like in all Disney movies, true love conquers all. And like in recent Disney movies, our heroine doesn't get married right away. <br />
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So Frozen does have a great lesson for us all - don't hide when you're suffering, let people love you, and don't be a jerk or we'll turn you over to 12 brothers. Because despite how much I like Hans, yeah, he needed to be punched.<br />
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But remember- HANS IS NOT THE VILLIANCurly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-62566055351222689912014-04-24T11:27:00.002-05:002014-04-24T11:27:39.227-05:00Multi-use rocking chair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnpKlkmbtLTynd0d-GLAY6zfmFWJyzRvW0AN8q_Tp0XNoiadKxX6X7_XkjGeVhCJx4JEkJT2HeGlRLLGPBdWUSKOS5nnVplkdBLQvFu_fae50xTewvhukbaetH8g9P8oQaQa95H4PfbI/s1600/WIN_20140424_104530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnpKlkmbtLTynd0d-GLAY6zfmFWJyzRvW0AN8q_Tp0XNoiadKxX6X7_XkjGeVhCJx4JEkJT2HeGlRLLGPBdWUSKOS5nnVplkdBLQvFu_fae50xTewvhukbaetH8g9P8oQaQa95H4PfbI/s1600/WIN_20140424_104530.JPG" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
Perfect for Towels and other linens.Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-43236555889695203202014-04-16T07:00:00.000-05:002014-04-16T07:00:00.360-05:003 is the magic number... age... whateverOh three. You bring such joy through trials, and pain, and patience....<br />
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Not-Curly (Curly Baby as you began) I love you. You're enthusiasm is endearing. Your competitiveness is worrying and amazing. You are full tilt no matter your decision, you do nothing by halves. And while sometimes that causes disagreements, I know it is a strength you will need in life. Growing up is hard, but you're doing a great job of it!<br />
Keep your love of life. Keep your love of cars. Keep believing that you know what is absolutely best for you, despite what people around you say. Knowing your mind is powerful.<br />
And now you're THREE! My baby is gone, my toddler has ran, and my preschooler, who is SO READY for kindergarten (or maybe just to be in big school like sis and brother), has one more year at home. I know it will be a year we never forget! I pray for you too, Not-Curly, God's blessing and provision, and that you feel his hand on your shoulder all the days of your life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CZ5UnkOyZiuRX_882ilRGMQz84b5oSfQNDQlbhQfE9URVFmLE-6pJLLdbtTpYlVbfYGPwUg0oX3hX9p1Jv_xgUxb3wCeyV1m_9JzW9WXZYvVtmS-Ankgevz7fGhLffEMTC0m_ULdBic/s1600/IMG_2872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CZ5UnkOyZiuRX_882ilRGMQz84b5oSfQNDQlbhQfE9URVFmLE-6pJLLdbtTpYlVbfYGPwUg0oX3hX9p1Jv_xgUxb3wCeyV1m_9JzW9WXZYvVtmS-Ankgevz7fGhLffEMTC0m_ULdBic/s1600/IMG_2872.JPG" height="320" width="305" /></a> Bucky Bear is the ultimate friend, he even protects eyes from the camera's flash!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizs1O3sxffFayhL_odt5ZmNJp8WuYb6aR5FiVMR_AkcTVcLto9ZSf5aA7QpzbU3VVmSnuyxNnG3OKnu9vZfxPsARtycBUXFnNdxbsztM2lxDxg3b6L1wLZ0LjOTTDfQg0A7buXRrnUFfU/s1600/IMG_2846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizs1O3sxffFayhL_odt5ZmNJp8WuYb6aR5FiVMR_AkcTVcLto9ZSf5aA7QpzbU3VVmSnuyxNnG3OKnu9vZfxPsARtycBUXFnNdxbsztM2lxDxg3b6L1wLZ0LjOTTDfQg0A7buXRrnUFfU/s1600/IMG_2846.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a> Not-Curly insisted on being Larry-Boy for Halloween. He was so proud of that costume!!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VAFcarhXuw1ycO3ra8Cv5cR1D_uaO4hH_zF3cO-k5bFcRCiKvLtyB9v2jGeTmXyIX_VvNW8Hz8OubQguesv3lQaIIHBss-oh6PgstXIm95a5dNeEONLTfNubosFkYpBuZ0Oao2rMoqU/s1600/IMG_2966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VAFcarhXuw1ycO3ra8Cv5cR1D_uaO4hH_zF3cO-k5bFcRCiKvLtyB9v2jGeTmXyIX_VvNW8Hz8OubQguesv3lQaIIHBss-oh6PgstXIm95a5dNeEONLTfNubosFkYpBuZ0Oao2rMoqU/s1600/IMG_2966.JPG" height="320" width="309" /></a></div>
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Running back to the sand box with a mini dump truck to fill it up again. Nothing better than a day outside in camo-pants and matching sweatshirt!</div>
Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-5965674004950845012014-04-15T07:00:00.000-05:002014-04-15T07:00:00.029-05:005, 10, 15, 20, 25 - who's not ready, hollar I! IHe's FIVE. Curly Boy is FIVE today! That is JUST NOT RIGHT.<br />
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My sweet, funny, loving, cuddly, ornery, tickle-y, "preschool preacher" little man is 5. Happy Birthday Curly Boy! I am so proud of you and your unashamed love of Jesus, never lose that. I love the joy you have in life, keep spreading it. Don't stop asking for hugs and kisses, don't stop giving them. And always love that curly hair God gave you - I love when you excitedly exclaim that we have the same hair, I hope you always feel that way. In short, never change - keep being you.<br />
I pray God's blessing and provision on your life, that you walk with Him every moment of every day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjLXv8lE0-kMzLKqtFoD1pqqzrYHYRFpK2PNsHyXGJMw6GagaNw6xI7CqMyzOeUVRuZfkV_UX-z1LlrnRc_7EF5_AKcgR6Sh-PQLuEeMiQG3bFvC_giltio3zDLTnXr6Nqx41vwtWuBI/s1600/IMG_2977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjLXv8lE0-kMzLKqtFoD1pqqzrYHYRFpK2PNsHyXGJMw6GagaNw6xI7CqMyzOeUVRuZfkV_UX-z1LlrnRc_7EF5_AKcgR6Sh-PQLuEeMiQG3bFvC_giltio3zDLTnXr6Nqx41vwtWuBI/s1600/IMG_2977.JPG" height="320" width="206" /></a> Practicing Kung Fu with his travel pillow</div>
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Walking with his "girl friend" at his birthday party<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV-5jAqrkBJcRAkka6QFHCpPRgwIhK0sFm_dFnvGN8R5EOQWjxA5JeEqJwyscsO64nJMjV67v9RTXVV27yk6EKOjC6Ot_CucvMT9asurRgVTniMN0Ba9YsEGHLGwu6aftUJg_K9V_PpCM/s1600/IMG_3003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV-5jAqrkBJcRAkka6QFHCpPRgwIhK0sFm_dFnvGN8R5EOQWjxA5JeEqJwyscsO64nJMjV67v9RTXVV27yk6EKOjC6Ot_CucvMT9asurRgVTniMN0Ba9YsEGHLGwu6aftUJg_K9V_PpCM/s1600/IMG_3003.JPG" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8fOAQOEm4zC5GnZiHZmxGVens39D9AnPii9Erno-XxHbaaIwOARp3AznPH-n5v3bgVhZ0r-cO-qw2bbAm3Pd82PzuzP_O0LmH_uZQlE3oKPw7QOTeE2Hn1geeqgyzTJFwpmpgukY-wM/s1600/IMG_2844a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8fOAQOEm4zC5GnZiHZmxGVens39D9AnPii9Erno-XxHbaaIwOARp3AznPH-n5v3bgVhZ0r-cO-qw2bbAm3Pd82PzuzP_O0LmH_uZQlE3oKPw7QOTeE2Hn1geeqgyzTJFwpmpgukY-wM/s1600/IMG_2844a.jpg" height="320" width="147" /></a></div>
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IronMan for Halloween - his favorite super hero!</div>
<br />Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-39166379062955754132014-04-08T13:58:00.003-05:002014-04-08T13:58:48.614-05:00Why Vacuums Don't SuckVacuuming is my least favorite chore. Which is why I constantly ask Mr. Curly to help me pull up carpet and refinish the hardwood floors in our house.<br />
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We did that in SD. When we first pulled up the carpet I was confused as to why the edges of the room had smaller, nicer finished boards than the middle of the room did.<br />
I soon realized the answer - carpets.<br />
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Whoever built our SD house had money - even the woodwork inside the closets was trimmed out nicely and stained, a sure sign of money in houses from the early 1900s. And whoever built it put carpet in their formal room.<br />
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Only, I'm pretty sure there were no vacuum cleaners at the time. If I remember my Victorian home history, these houses would've just had carpet tacked down in the middle of a room. Tacked down, so that it could be pulled up, taken out to the clothes line, and have all the dirt and junk beat out of it.<br />
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So yeah, I hate vacuuming, but when I think about having to drag carpet outside to beat it clean, vacuums don't really suck.<br />
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But I'm still not going to stop asking Mr. Curly to pull up our carpets, even if it is just to do this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlj3xi8nIjwKmbJj5C0baTVDdax5OpWUjlX0AT4RebtKBkdpEOmDW9oI4l_UohrKhxHGx8ww2PV7tVQaxXSRIBfIZn8tC0_Dd2hl4h8b_mirmBiZSjvDS4Q6pT1KEe8gdAGuEU70VgLQ/s1600/8b421f2efdffd458c619c1171e5bf729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlj3xi8nIjwKmbJj5C0baTVDdax5OpWUjlX0AT4RebtKBkdpEOmDW9oI4l_UohrKhxHGx8ww2PV7tVQaxXSRIBfIZn8tC0_Dd2hl4h8b_mirmBiZSjvDS4Q6pT1KEe8gdAGuEU70VgLQ/s1600/8b421f2efdffd458c619c1171e5bf729.jpg" height="320" width="115" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://themetapicture.com/big-surprise-under-the-carpet/" target="_blank">source</a></div>
Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-7973961825615166992014-03-19T07:00:00.000-05:002014-03-19T07:00:01.311-05:00My personal viceThere are 2 things you should know about me if you already don't:<br />
1) I'm an emotional eater. Happy? Let's celebrate with food! Sad? Let's commiserate with food! Angry? I'm going to eat until I'm sick to forget what I'm angry about.<br />
2) Pepsi gets me through anything. Sleepy days, parties, conversations I don't want to have, long busy days.... and honestly, I just love drinking it while I'm sitting around relaxing. The bigger the Pepsi, the tougher the day I'm having. It's my vice.<br />
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Everybody has a vice. Everybody. And if they tell you they don't, they're lying (which might be their vice).<br />
Everybody has something they turn to to cope.<br />
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Sometimes its a good thing (exercise, reading, working), sometimes its not so good (eating or drinking too much or things that aren't good for you, beating yourself up mentally).<br />
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But what if your vice was God? What if every time you found yourself running low, or struggling to cope, or wanting to celebrate, you turned to God?<br />
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The Bible tells us in Philippians 4:6-7 to bring everything to God with thanksgiving and without worry. And if we do so, His perfect peace will invade our life.<br />
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Perfect peace. Sounds nice, doesn't it?<br />
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Why don't we start today? Why don't you join me in making God the personal vice of choice?Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-49026849545497478162014-02-27T11:08:00.001-06:002014-02-27T11:08:58.175-06:00Living Room Re-doIn the past year, I've redone my <a href="http://curlybynature.blogspot.com/2013/04/kitchen-kitchen.html" target="_blank">kitchen</a>, my <a href="http://curlybynature.blogspot.com/2013/09/happy-autumn.html" target="_blank">dining</a> <a href="http://curlybynature.blogspot.com/2013/02/a-little-bit-of-this.html" target="_blank">room</a> (2 different links there so you can see the rearranging of furniture and the new color!), and Curly Girl's <a href="http://curlybynature.blogspot.com/2013/10/sweet-6-years.html" target="_blank">bedroom</a> (which you can see here along with her birthday celebration). Which meant my living room was looking pretty drab. Kind of beige walls, nail holes from previous owners and where I had moved pictures, no real sense of design.<br />
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Driving me crazy, it was.<br />
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So we did this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWetIcvsokoXbjlGc1MJFhTrZNn-ZHcOadtCYUfL06XOIm9Qw37Ckn1v7QgU611-G1HLUA0ZGLhF48m24Udtq4u7H94ZKf5w_QmUL62xNmnj0ZftM87sRJ98vpEjXHEfO-t2Oh7i-lz0/s1600/living+room+during.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWetIcvsokoXbjlGc1MJFhTrZNn-ZHcOadtCYUfL06XOIm9Qw37Ckn1v7QgU611-G1HLUA0ZGLhF48m24Udtq4u7H94ZKf5w_QmUL62xNmnj0ZftM87sRJ98vpEjXHEfO-t2Oh7i-lz0/s1600/living+room+during.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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The lighting is BAD here, really bad, and I somehow don't have a better before picture. But we went from beige-y blahness to fresh pineapple. A bright yellow, not too bright. Honestly, not really my color, but looks awesome with the rest of the house.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0N1RZo-taaPFNzjNn3Fr_A-ZKsW5_vF7uVQqUhFE0oeEF7qdLnnetsK8JMVFJ6PM2t1GDpwJfGiT8R885kY8AVtLBEORoiv1h_7nSAnV4F5JZOy08snvmX5fkQU_Lfo4peBQdo0qMuFY/s1600/office+offshoot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0N1RZo-taaPFNzjNn3Fr_A-ZKsW5_vF7uVQqUhFE0oeEF7qdLnnetsK8JMVFJ6PM2t1GDpwJfGiT8R885kY8AVtLBEORoiv1h_7nSAnV4F5JZOy08snvmX5fkQU_Lfo4peBQdo0qMuFY/s1600/office+offshoot.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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We have this little side area in our living room I call the "office offshoot." It needed something more than just a coat of paint. So after 2.5 weeks of trying tons of different things, we went with just nice big diamonds. It honestly makes me wish I would've done it on another wall too (the one our front door is on), but it gives this nice area a sense of purpose and design. AND this is a better representation of our actual wall color throughout the living room.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPfchyphenhyphensiTJqXblj93ZmeA4BSKH6Pwb12b9rf7VwmVo20WiZsy3LhExi1apFXBqKQ8CJgDRbsrrqURVEdJg35832A0VJu35Zsj0Obk9UHXioiQ8JFibHkat_4qn4BJFBNqf_CrDczGdW8/s1600/living+room+sign+before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPfchyphenhyphensiTJqXblj93ZmeA4BSKH6Pwb12b9rf7VwmVo20WiZsy3LhExi1apFXBqKQ8CJgDRbsrrqURVEdJg35832A0VJu35Zsj0Obk9UHXioiQ8JFibHkat_4qn4BJFBNqf_CrDczGdW8/s1600/living+room+sign+before.jpg" height="149" width="320" /></a><br />
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And then I decided to decorate. So using a technique my friend taught me (scrapbook letters on canvas, paint over, pull off the letters), I made this sign with a fantastic Tommy Boy quote to hang in the middle of the 22 (yes TWENTY TWO) family pictures I had printed for the wall.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrMZkqDA8vKRoO0wsYfZ3-2IA7wJTtcGhfoK5erXdRYe8da2x7svAkWCYpoOVG_WEJ6EBHGvVitDRm0XK9yKWOdBOA6mUwQwBQV4ti4syuRsSmsM94rT11DD5NH6O9f7DrLbyIWtAGuqY/s1600/living+room+sign+done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrMZkqDA8vKRoO0wsYfZ3-2IA7wJTtcGhfoK5erXdRYe8da2x7svAkWCYpoOVG_WEJ6EBHGvVitDRm0XK9yKWOdBOA6mUwQwBQV4ti4syuRsSmsM94rT11DD5NH6O9f7DrLbyIWtAGuqY/s1600/living+room+sign+done.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctCh5PNWR_v0U94e2iYG9L_4pK-QoXtHdG1WvI14UE4LiE9lxGHYI5i8QJvSxOWQbtNnme7z-iqArt6jLcUHKT2gOOMujaKcXPQykk2sJKByDhTHRZLlSEdbu5ZJFwj1MLwzcI2Va0yw/s1600/hallway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctCh5PNWR_v0U94e2iYG9L_4pK-QoXtHdG1WvI14UE4LiE9lxGHYI5i8QJvSxOWQbtNnme7z-iqArt6jLcUHKT2gOOMujaKcXPQykk2sJKByDhTHRZLlSEdbu5ZJFwj1MLwzcI2Va0yw/s1600/hallway.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is my new favorite room in the house. Our hallway. I had to completely clean it out to paint, which meant the million boxes waiting to go up to the attic, had to go. And the toys by the bedroom doors had to go. And it had to be vacuumed after I finished pulling all the nails out of the walls (pulling out original lathe and plaster with them) and then plastered all the holes.<br />
Anyway, I painted it the same fresh pineapple as the living room (this hallway is off our dining room, but you can see it from the living room), using the same marshmallow white as the diamonds above to paint white frames on the wall to give me my own little version of an art gallery.<br />
You can barely see it, but on the right hand wall, above most of the pictures (which are all family shots of siblings and parents with some old dating and college things thrown in) is the beginning of the Ferris Bueller quote "Life moves pretty fast...." I free-hand painted that on the wall with acrylic paint and a tiny paint brush. It isn't quite centered in its square, which might drive Mr. Curly crazy. But I found out when trying to scrub off the crayon I had used for practice, that the blue acrylic will wash off pretty easy. So we might fix it in a week or two.<br />
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So. Living room and hallway done. Now I'm just trying to convince Mr. Curly that we've had the same bathroom design/linens/color for six years and we should redo it. And pull the wallpaper out of our bedroom.<br />
But maybe I should give him a break from changes first.<br />
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<br />Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-70425744365841491232014-02-04T20:00:00.000-06:002014-02-04T20:00:00.107-06:00Insults in my oatmealAlmost every morning I make myself what I call "energy oatmeal."<br />
1/4 cup quick oats (uncooked) with 2-3 tbsps peanut butter, some brown sugar, raisins, and honey. So yummy.<br />
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My kids call it "injury" oatmeal and always beg me for bites of my breakfast.<br />
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Mr. Curly looked at me yesterday morning and said "You know what you need to add to that oatmeal so the kids won't eat it?"<br />
"Hm, no, what?"<br />
"Insult."<br />
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Ha ha ha. Add insult to my injury oatmeal.<br />
I love this man.Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-1572731976898432632014-02-03T20:06:00.004-06:002014-02-03T20:06:44.855-06:00We fall down...There was a song that came out when I was in high school that I just absolutely fell in love with. Mr. Curly was never a big fan, because the main chorus says "We fall down, we get up, we fall down, we get up, we fall down, we get up...." (of course it ends with 'and the saints are just the sinners who fell down and got up", but of course, that isn't the part that gets stuck in your head. (hear Bob Carlisle sing it<a href="http://youtu.be/h3ewPHaPBfA" target="_blank"> here</a>)<br />
But lately, I just fall down.<br />
Lately, I've been struggling. Specifically struggling with having a servant's heart. Not at church, I'm more than happy to help there. Not at my kids's schools. Not with my friends. Not in giving. <br />
<br />
But with my kids. With my own kids at home. With my kids it has become harder and harder every single day to get up with a smile, to help them get ready for the day without losing patience, to sit and play with them throughout the afternoon without my eyes wandering to the messes, or my brain making lists of things I'd rather be doing, or should rather be doing.<br />
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Mr. Curly thinks it stems from how our children view me. He feels they view me as 'the help' not as their mom. I'm just the lady here to do everything for them, so respect levels are low and I spend my entire day doing one thing or another for them without a moments peace.<br />
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I'm sure every mother has had those days when all 300 of her kids are yelling her name at once. 100 want to play games, while 100 others need help in the bathroom RIGHT NOW, while the last 100 just simply won't open their eyes enough to see that the shoes or milk or whatever they're looking for is right in front of them.<br />
I wish it was just a certain time of day. I wish it was only certain days.<br />
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But its not. It is every single day, every single hour, every single minute.<br />
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And I just want a break. I just want silence. I want 24 hours where I don't have to refill plates before I've had a bite of my own food, or share my food, or get more milk, or find more snacks, socks, shoes, bags, coats, puzzle pieces, or run to the bathroom 5 seconds after I finally set down to get the budget and my business logs caught up.<br />
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I'm struggling with that servant attitude towards my children. I am not 'the help.' I'm their mother, who needs to teach them responsibility and independence, and I believe I am doing that. But at 6, 4, and 2, there are things they still need an adult for and the only adult they see capable of helping is me. Not their daddy or anyone else.<br />
If I leave the house for more than 10 minutes, I'm completely swamped with a million things the kids need the minute I walk back in the door - things they apparently didn't need while Mr. Curly was there, but now can't wait.<br />
And it leaves me running all day, with very little servant attitude left for my husband or anyone else. It's beginning to make the nursery duty at church a chore because I will again be the only adult around to help Not Curly with absolutely everything. My house is getting more and more messy because whenever I do get a moment's break, the last thing I want to do is work more.<br />
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I've fallen down, and I can't seem to get back up (cue cheesy commercial here).Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-23787234816495098952014-01-06T20:32:00.000-06:002014-01-06T20:32:27.271-06:00Crochet ConverseI have loved Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars all my life. I'm still wasting for a pair.<br />
(I want them in red, and I'm a size women's 7.5 just for your information).<br />
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Anyway, I'm saving up for them, but until I get them, I spent the weekend crocheting these for myself.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvl3hx_nZWJ9_UA-Y9n3QfzE8jV4J3yPVI4OzquFbA1tN7QCcXhxAwjwcjqkDpCeTDYptMLtRMhL8vSplXty7oJ5khdN9EvqihsNXVv3gE_eTbOii4HUVuoGV60s5Do1_tH6wHr5Gh6E/s1600/WIN_20140106_202352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvl3hx_nZWJ9_UA-Y9n3QfzE8jV4J3yPVI4OzquFbA1tN7QCcXhxAwjwcjqkDpCeTDYptMLtRMhL8vSplXty7oJ5khdN9EvqihsNXVv3gE_eTbOii4HUVuoGV60s5Do1_tH6wHr5Gh6E/s1600/WIN_20140106_202352.JPG" height="316" width="320" /></a></div>
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I followed a pattern I found at <a href="http://mamaslittlemonkeysetsy.blogspot.com/2013/12/free-crochet-pattern-converse-slipper.html" target="_blank">Momma's Little Monkeys.</a> As she says on the post, it is a pattern in progress, I made several row and width changes to fit my feet, but it was still so easy to follow! They do look more professional with real shoe laces, but I didn't have any and was just too eager to wear them.</div>
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I just used red heart yarn I had leftover from other projects (absolutely loving that I had them in red). And yes, they make great tile ice skates!</div>
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Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-79811133379697096752013-12-20T16:24:00.002-06:002013-12-20T16:24:19.503-06:00I still don't have a car(t)Somedays you just got to let them be kids.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcR2dtEjXJfu7Kszk9Cb2lYY12iIaId8HNMprFy83EkN7aLh6uu5OiNjqN3bxrXEfD6VOKIvhECcfo16viKbWe-2Wjckr9B9Amw_UiC2G3HfMpyCTC1DsSIzBk74LmyT7YbD9_dLpUB8/s1600/IMG_0997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcR2dtEjXJfu7Kszk9Cb2lYY12iIaId8HNMprFy83EkN7aLh6uu5OiNjqN3bxrXEfD6VOKIvhECcfo16viKbWe-2Wjckr9B9Amw_UiC2G3HfMpyCTC1DsSIzBk74LmyT7YbD9_dLpUB8/s320/IMG_0997.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Who needs one of those fancy kid carts with the wheels? We're sledding through Walmart!</div>
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Curly Boy was holding the sugar and pepsi, so he decided his car cart ran off of sugar.</div>
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And yes, those are eggs in Not Curly's cart. Terrifying, he has no sense of driving in a straight line! Or stopping before he hits something!</div>
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While this wasn't the fastest way through Walmart, I only needed 4 things, and I made several different employees smile at my two little boys laughing and giggling their way through the aisles.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Post title is a riff off of Ferris Bueller "She got a car, I got a computer..... I still don't have a car.... I could be the Walrus, I'd still have to bum rides off of people." Love that movie!</span></div>
Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-41973480265390289722013-12-19T10:03:00.001-06:002013-12-19T10:03:58.160-06:00Caterpillar CrunchingWe learned when Curly Boy was about 18 months old, that night terrors are common in men on Mr. Curly's side of the family.<br />
Curly Boy had them for several months, and still does. Though now they usually come when he's going through a growth spurt, had a traumatic event (tonsil surgery), or we've been travelling for awhile.<br />
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Not-Curly (my new name for Curly Baby aka Curly Boy 2, since his hair is decidedly NOT curly, unless it is long enough to mistake him for a girl) has had one or two episodes, but last night was a new one.<br />
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Last night around 11 Not-Curly came in asking to sleep with us. I let him into bed for about a minute, then took him back to bed, sang is lullaby and kissed him good night. Not 10 minutes later, he was back in my room asking to sleep with me again. When I said we all had to sleep in our own beds, he answered "No, sleep on couch with you."<br />
I thank goodness for his verbal skills, because when I asked why he didn't want to be in his own bed he said it was because of the caterpillars.<br />
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I recruited Mr. Curly's help at this time, since he was still awake. We took Not-Curly back to his room, where Mr. Curly crunched up all the invisible caterpillars that were on his bed. We sang and prayed with Not-Curly and went back to bed.<br />
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He didn't have the greatest night, but I was thankful that going along with the idea that his bed was full of caterpillars helped him calm down and get back to sleep.Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-91338807322826217902013-12-16T07:30:00.000-06:002013-12-16T07:30:00.681-06:00Growing CourageI was scanning facebook the other day, keeping up with people I haven't seen for awhile, and suddenly had this thought:<br /><br /><em><strong>I remember who I was, and I know who I am now, and I really wish I would've had the courage to be myself long before I hit, well, the age I am now.</strong></em><br />
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I feel so blessed that Mr. Curly saw through all my posturing, and attempts to be someone who I wasn't, and saw the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.<br />
I am so blessed to have friends who have accepted the changes in me as I grow more in courage and individuality.<br />
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And I thank God for those changes, for helping me grow.<br />
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It hasn't been easy. My heart was hurt long ago, and has been hurt since, but I'm sure I've done my fair share of hurting others too.<br />
But some good things have happened too. I've made friends I never would've considered as a self-conscious teenager, I've had fun that I normally would've held back from.<br />
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For those who have encouraged my growth, thank you. For those who have loved me all along, thank you even more.<br />
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Ok, weird post for Christmas time - I'll let you get back to your holiday cheer now!Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-36372491615587214512013-12-09T20:42:00.003-06:002013-12-09T20:42:59.451-06:00It's now or never....tomorrow will be too lateI learned a little lesson about delayed gratification over Thanksgiving break,<br />
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I had been saving since June for an ipad. But Black Friday deals convinced me to buy a laptop and use my Apple card for a new phone instead. Through one thing and another, I ended up with a tablet (which I adore!!).<br />
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BUT, I still don't have a new iphone. Because in order to get the promotional price, I have to be ready for an upgrade, which, won't happen until my birthday this summer.<br />
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Yep. In order to get my "free" phone (because my gift card will just cover the promotional price, and Mr. Curly somehow worked a deal for it in the first place), I have to wait, more, again.<br />
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I have to say, I was pretty bummed about it. But I had just spent my money on a tablet. And I had only planned on getting one new tech toy - an ipad. So really, it was ok that I have to wait for my new iphone. Its okay that I only got what I was saving for.<br />
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And this summer, when I not only get a birthday gift, but also a new phone - well, that's going to be awesome!!!<br />
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I was watching "Love It or List It" today and one of the couples said "If we can't get what we want right now, lets just go buy something new."<br />
<br />
Wow. Really? These people were dropping $60,000 on a remodel for a house that they weren't even sure they wanted, for a house they'd rather replace with something new, right now, before the remodel was even completed.<br />
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Delayed gratification is not an easy thing. There have been many times when I've put a purchase on a credit card because I just plain didn't want to wait. Most the time, I've regretted it when the credit card bill came in!<br />
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I have to remind myself, and I have to teach my children, that while Elvis is a legend, he was not always right. It isn't now or never, tomorrow won't be too late. Some things are worth waiting for. And while that may mean keeping a iphone 3GS for another 6 months, or living in a house that is less than perfect while you remodel, in the end, I think it will be worth it.<br />
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Post Title from Elvis "It's Now or Never"<br />
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And while I'm at delaying gratification, there are only 15 days 'til Christmas!!Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-39344513215285752792013-12-06T07:30:00.000-06:002013-12-06T07:30:00.389-06:00It's the most wonderful movie of the yearSome people have a song for everything, or a book they like to read during certain times of life, I have movies.<br />
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Mr. Curly and I can quote Tommy Boy in almost every situation in life. It's a nice reminder of old friends and happy times, and it is just so quotable!!<br />
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But I also have movies for life situations. When I want something classic and funny and romantic and historical, I watch Stephen Sommers The Mummy.<br />
When I want a fantastical adventure, I watch The Princess Bride (or I read it, the book is marvelous).<br />
When life is just really really hard, but I'm sure God has to be somewhere, I watch Facing the Giants.<br />
And when I want to punch someone in the face, I watch Office Space.<br />
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But it is now Christmas time, and time for classic movies you don't watch 11 months out of the year to be dragged out and watched over and over and over again.<br />
My all time favorite Christmas movie is It's A Wonderful Life.<br />
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It is so stinkin' depressing! So when you're not feeling that great about the holidays, curl up with a snack and have a good cry with Jimmy Stewart. Rail at Mr. Potter. And maybe don't watch the end.<br />
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But it is also amazingly redeeming. So when you're in a fantastic Christmas spirit, make some hot cocoa, gather some friends, and celebrate the love we can find in this world. And watch the end over and over and over again. And ignore Potter, he'll get his in the end.<br />
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It is really just all together perfect for every feeling you can have at Christmas time.<br />
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It's also the reason I have a cheap dollar store bell hanging near the top of my tree.Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7224924085434324132.post-39636696958502293042013-12-02T17:13:00.000-06:002013-12-02T17:13:20.071-06:00Great Acoustics - The Bane of My ExistenceThis event actually happened before Thanksgiving, but I didn't have a chance to blog then, so here is our story now.<br />
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It was the community Thanksgiving service, held at St. Joseph Catholic church. This was our second attendance, and we already knew it was mainly an older generation service, but we took the whole family anyway. If Mr. Curly is going to be part of the local ministerial association, than our family is going to participate in local community church events. Right? Right.<br />
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I should've known it was going to be bad when I herded my three young curly kids into the side entrance where we were greeted by a statue of Jesus. "They have a Jesus statute here!" Curly Girl exclaimed. Curly Boy found it pretty amazing too, pointing out the holes in Jesus's hand to Curly Boy 2 (who might start being called Non-Curly, but that's another post).<br />
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We made it to, well, in our church we call it the foyer, where we greeted some other pastor friends. Curly Boy commented on the "stink" of the church - it was either incense or air freshener, I really couldn't tell. We were waiting for Mr. Curly to park the car and join us.<br />
He finally made it in, and we went into the sanctuary to find a seat, only Mr. Curly got stopped by another pastor.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi688oTUr0eor_qDI56ZQolRZ7vMRxU_pizXjTACQN9ML-uPCFsSykOqNKftNwPzbZvCEiFNGxQsq7_bbZUbSi5LLUQEaF16TIrdVIHdOqJ4ve9MIs8W2-AEvNDvE7LlVfNuf6qEIwyfZk/s1600/IMG_0947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi688oTUr0eor_qDI56ZQolRZ7vMRxU_pizXjTACQN9ML-uPCFsSykOqNKftNwPzbZvCEiFNGxQsq7_bbZUbSi5LLUQEaF16TIrdVIHdOqJ4ve9MIs8W2-AEvNDvE7LlVfNuf6qEIwyfZk/s320/IMG_0947.JPG" width="240" /></a>So I was left with 3 small children who had never been in a Catholic church before and were suddenly met with the holy water fountain. And huge stained glass windows, and the stations of the cross. And the best acoustics you will ever find.<br />
"Look, a fountain!"<br />
"Yook, yook, water!"<br />
"Where are the fish?"<br />
"See how the water falls, momma?"<br />
"See those windows! They're huge!"<br />
"What is that statue thing on the wall?"<br />
"Mom - you gotta see this place!!" (this last one was my particularly amazed 2 year old)<br />
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I finally shepherded them into the last row, well, second to last row, the last row is for handicap access. I hushed them, Mr. Curly came in where it started all over.<br />
"Have you seen this? What are these? Look at the water!" (Thankfully they didn't see the Catholics blessing themselves with the water, that would've been a whole new thing to exclaim over!)<br />
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Have you been in a Catholic church? A whisper carries all the way to the front. Well, my children were NOT whispering. Which means every single person in the place heard all those announcements.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEROiYDb6DjMilhNEZa-olkMAcCgQ2lA2YB7-v1a2PDXqpbaPZnYUe9aC_wSXcnOHO4r6LPvbyKP-VrVx9ztAnSrFHzjU-2UUY7SD2iCY6D8N36PhPge_HwLom4DF7Tf2UXX3zr0YYCg/s1600/IMG_0946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEROiYDb6DjMilhNEZa-olkMAcCgQ2lA2YB7-v1a2PDXqpbaPZnYUe9aC_wSXcnOHO4r6LPvbyKP-VrVx9ztAnSrFHzjU-2UUY7SD2iCY6D8N36PhPge_HwLom4DF7Tf2UXX3zr0YYCg/s320/IMG_0946.JPG" width="240" /></a>Including when Curly Boy 2 wanted to run the aisles, when he needed to go pee and poop, when Curly Girl complained that the church was too big and she couldn't see the person talking....<br />
And to top it off, Curly Boy was bored so he counted the lights, much like his father once did during a concert of Handel's Messiah that I dragged him too.<br />
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I know, I know, they're kids. Pastor's kids at that, which means they are particularly comfortable in a church building. And they had never been in a Catholic church before. But I'm pretty sure I looked like the perfect Christmas ornament with my green shirt and bright red face.<br />
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Other titles considered for this blog post:<br />
1. Why I Will Never Go To A Catholic Church Again<br />
2. Why yes, those are the pastor's kids swimming in the holy water<br />
3. Gee, can't you tell we're from a small protestant church?<br />
Curly-Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07669963575731983192noreply@blogger.com0