tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59584307077597465192024-03-14T11:33:48.923-05:00The Nutty MamaThe Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-4318390619216373602011-06-29T18:22:00.001-05:002011-06-29T18:24:09.731-05:00curiouser and curiouser<div>So if I were to post a registration for my uh-hummm.... my dance studio.... would you be able to print it off and send it in?</div><div> </div><div>I just like to know these things. </div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-14649861783234100612011-06-29T17:20:00.002-05:002011-06-29T18:14:10.220-05:00Experimenting<div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2W1a7viUZHaypGS4A_PjqX85lWhnYkPUxhgtc49upsvCF3vc8X5Opt3i0KnDLktTgfiZUeuAHZcQFfdg8bfVR8MjmT9Q8SrwaJAz7KKfacDp3UdBgscx0A69yHdxcGFjFvVZfdXbg/s1600/pleasanton+parade+registration0001.tif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 318px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623774838307464706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2W1a7viUZHaypGS4A_PjqX85lWhnYkPUxhgtc49upsvCF3vc8X5Opt3i0KnDLktTgfiZUeuAHZcQFfdg8bfVR8MjmT9Q8SrwaJAz7KKfacDp3UdBgscx0A69yHdxcGFjFvVZfdXbg/s400/pleasanton+parade+registration0001.tif" /></a>So if you want to be in the parade, print this out and send it in.</div><div><br /><div></div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-81175063964169116152009-09-17T16:30:00.003-05:002009-09-19T16:34:23.855-05:00Our New GirlWe had a death in the family this summer. Our little girl dog got hit by a car. I guess that's part of having farm dogs. They get the freedom to run around and you risk losing them. Well, we did. It was my Snuggle Bug's little girl dog. The girl. I didn't know the impact she had on the other two boys until she was gone. The boys really don't like each other. But for her, they got along. Without her around, they quit playing. One disappeared into the orchard. The other just lounged around all day... sighing.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8X3xeUys0N3m8uCE_XRUbBuJdYZqqHFRObnLxFerLXc0UGQ_zpwzubFJEf3pPGEKK7n9lnQ5pCGSIKqhTzNcxBXk56Z5KlL_2hAHC11SlVE2zULCiEY2FPjw7dEoKI_4_oZzTMBZ/s1600-h/20090710_6706.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382555303515720178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8X3xeUys0N3m8uCE_XRUbBuJdYZqqHFRObnLxFerLXc0UGQ_zpwzubFJEf3pPGEKK7n9lnQ5pCGSIKqhTzNcxBXk56Z5KlL_2hAHC11SlVE2zULCiEY2FPjw7dEoKI_4_oZzTMBZ/s400/20090710_6706.JPG" border="0" /></a> Until we found her. The Snuggle Bug thought long and hard about her name. He named her Missy. And it fits. She's fun and playful. And so sweet!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOtgXaeHhBS8hClvNuhi6xNgtE_8YhiXRIoFaajwOFsFg-bcPCAJ3APC91Z7B37rpyUSEXfiaPTyPUonAiaAtGObQcxbKzVxWJKU0K8d75lo2msAXjijKJHborjJL9WOpe3a_OYlP/s1600-h/20090710_6704.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382555298507584562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOtgXaeHhBS8hClvNuhi6xNgtE_8YhiXRIoFaajwOFsFg-bcPCAJ3APC91Z7B37rpyUSEXfiaPTyPUonAiaAtGObQcxbKzVxWJKU0K8d75lo2msAXjijKJHborjJL9WOpe3a_OYlP/s400/20090710_6704.JPG" border="0" /></a> When we got her she was just 6 weeks old. She's bigger now. And when folks meet her, they say she's the gentlest puppy they've ever met. I think she's just precious. And the boy dogs like her too. She's playful and they are so gentle with her. They even argue over her! What a princess. She'll fit right in.</div><div></div><div>Welcome to the family, Missy!<br /><br /><div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-82718691208392361132009-09-16T17:04:00.003-05:002009-09-16T17:48:25.396-05:00Long Time No See... er... Write<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnB7-wBIpQd7liqDSDF_F2mqjJaB5y-zlKr3ns4jdGYANW7yiXM1RvIEkC0HQaSAygFaeRHYwMkCuPzGniGpi_c1rE33gmTGlj18G-wHZLgH1Y5Vdkf8alAPZVWxbNQzIdfCmN4lg4/s1600-h/20090608_6572.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382196253847748098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnB7-wBIpQd7liqDSDF_F2mqjJaB5y-zlKr3ns4jdGYANW7yiXM1RvIEkC0HQaSAygFaeRHYwMkCuPzGniGpi_c1rE33gmTGlj18G-wHZLgH1Y5Vdkf8alAPZVWxbNQzIdfCmN4lg4/s400/20090608_6572.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Howdy! Long time, no see! Things have been busy and I've been struggling with what to blog. It's an interesting process to make the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">commitment</span> to start a blog. At first you have all these great ideas about what to say. Then as you say what you thought would be fun to say, you wonder what else there is to talk about. So while I was waiting for something phenomenal to happen to me so I could be entertaining on my blog, I quit writing.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>My other struggle is with photos. I like to put photos out there. A blog with no photos is like a gift without the wrapping paper. And country living means slow <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Internet</span>. So I have been impatient waiting. Instead of waiting, I quit writing.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And here we are. No writing. No pictures. No blog. BLAH! Sorry, Trish. I've missed you too. Let's see if we can get this thing going again, eh?</div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-2180670035946741212009-06-27T08:38:00.002-05:002009-06-27T08:42:41.875-05:00Stepping Out of My Comfort ZoneI have taken a week off. Yep. I'm in Dallas and I have no children. No farm. No hubbie. Just me and my college roomie... and my tap shoes.<br /><br />I'm in Dallas for a Teachers of Dance convention. Since I'm going to attempt to teach dance again, I thought it would be wise to see what the kids are doing these days. And see if I remembered how to move. So I registered myself for this convention. It starts tomorrow. I'm nervous. I'll be surrounded by people half my age who haven't taken a hiatus from dance to have 4 children and run a pecan farm. Should be interesting.<br /><br />I did leave the leotards at home, though. I'm not stepping <em>that</em> far out of my comfort zone.The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-86074822306507609182009-06-18T23:09:00.003-05:002009-06-18T23:32:28.973-05:00Girlie DayThe Doodlebug was invited to a birthday party... a Princess party. I was under the impression that all 4 year old girls were princesses so I didn't think much of the invitation.<br /><br /><br />When we arrived, I learned it was a glamour party... you know, hair, makeup, nails... but small town style. I had seen pictures of my sister Trish's girls doing this and thought it looked fun! I never imagined a swanky place for that in my little small town.<br /><br />When we arrived, the Doodlebug spent the first 20 minutes shopping. The party was in a side room of a cutsie little boutique so we had to shop and touch everything in the store before truly enjoying herself in the party. Geeh... I wonder where she gets that?!?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_HA-nfd2q7mF8qJPM7RhtHKXFdpbJ_cBPzwf8VKsfitnF-d9U5EguZepj_WfyLVCV1ma9RAXNdWy1eZm_kDwbxLl18e4YL-Ftl389ZbV5UU_Y-PJGuAldGIZph19aTxvkw8qxd0qd/s1600-h/Hallie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348889456618847394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_HA-nfd2q7mF8qJPM7RhtHKXFdpbJ_cBPzwf8VKsfitnF-d9U5EguZepj_WfyLVCV1ma9RAXNdWy1eZm_kDwbxLl18e4YL-Ftl389ZbV5UU_Y-PJGuAldGIZph19aTxvkw8qxd0qd/s400/Hallie.jpg" border="0" /></a> The birthday girl got all dolled up first. She has this amazing head of curly hair and it just piled right up so nicely on her head. She was really enjoying the dress up and make up. She doesn't have three brothers.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh99vd6zox3U3qw_NFjOVnsldNPFX9ENuo12EzKt0BDjiUimVI5MrTTltdHc_r_-izFltOSAXn6OMwhh8hsEacKH_inTS6c9ycHCOHTzc5v-pcczxvfqxwFvL9mdBkIap1E6divCL7/s1600-h/DD.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348886850399695490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh99vd6zox3U3qw_NFjOVnsldNPFX9ENuo12EzKt0BDjiUimVI5MrTTltdHc_r_-izFltOSAXn6OMwhh8hsEacKH_inTS6c9ycHCOHTzc5v-pcczxvfqxwFvL9mdBkIap1E6divCL7/s400/DD.jpg" border="0" /></a> The Doodlebug finally got her chance in the beauty chair. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink eyeshadow. Pink lip stuff (that she wiped off immediately cuz it felt funny) and pink nail polish. We challenged the hair lady with the Doodlehair. It hasn't spent a lot of time in a brush... or growing for that matter. The hair lady offered to put lots of ponytails on her head. I don't think the Doodlebug fully understood what was happening, because after about 6 pigtails, she very politely said, "That's enough. Please, stop." And then she ripped them all out. That's my girl.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZx5GijtLctpZYdEeAd0Gx3A0ugq54QC6y9Zzs5zqSyZLJPNHj0cfvuf7VjUdtfsbLGhBIUM2yVq3nyyw83OQT369xvqWOa8NrIz-4fPchxUsOWR4g4uVWJgvT6H8e98YARG6E8WO/s1600-h/group+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348886629680040194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZx5GijtLctpZYdEeAd0Gx3A0ugq54QC6y9Zzs5zqSyZLJPNHj0cfvuf7VjUdtfsbLGhBIUM2yVq3nyyw83OQT369xvqWOa8NrIz-4fPchxUsOWR4g4uVWJgvT6H8e98YARG6E8WO/s400/group+2.jpg" border="0" /></a> Everyone was interviewed after being dolled up. The Doodlebug's stage name was Barbie and she held that mike the entire time she was there. She loved the thing. Note to self: Next time we are in Michael's, buy a Styrofoam mike. Provides hours of entertainment.</div><div> <br /><br /></div><div>I was so happy for my Doodlebug to be invited to such a girlie party. The brothers stayed home... happily... and we had a little girl time. It was really a great time! </div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-79666370544566521122009-06-03T09:08:00.003-05:002009-06-03T10:27:43.244-05:00Good Excuses... Really...My sister, Trish, reminded me I haven't blogged lately. And since I don't want her and my one other reader to think I've fallen off the face of the earth, I thought I'd give you an update.<br /><br />Since I'm becoming "The Dance Teacher," I've been reflecting on what that will mean. And my first realization was... tights. I'm going to have to squeeze this flabby, outta shape old body into tights. In order to not offend and send the parents running out of the studio, I decided I should do something about this issue.<br /><br />SO... I've joined "The Gym." That's what it's called. "The Gym." And it's not a place filled with intimidating muscle men and folks running on treadmills for 45 minutes while laughing about their weekend trip to Bermuda. I walk into those gyms and get the deer in the headlight look. I see people working out, but I haven't a clue what to do there myself. This gym is a wonderful place with men and women doing classes to lose weight and get in or stay in shape. Dance-like classes. That's right up my alley. And I'm really enjoying myself!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUzQOxHSvwXmEcATNU3eWYtRT-aHwhkPTwSqVlQ5y3eYdwRhRcC2OgSzy8ukoIigs9mj-C7dBdiUnsIw1QA2LAbtVxGJ1C8oosVtbOPbaGNTI_v6wnNXa0P6jQKRC36Q5Z0_NLFlH/s1600-h/4342_1134360473211_1053296657_1308479_1595809_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343105994694084066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 193px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUzQOxHSvwXmEcATNU3eWYtRT-aHwhkPTwSqVlQ5y3eYdwRhRcC2OgSzy8ukoIigs9mj-C7dBdiUnsIw1QA2LAbtVxGJ1C8oosVtbOPbaGNTI_v6wnNXa0P6jQKRC36Q5Z0_NLFlH/s400/4342_1134360473211_1053296657_1308479_1595809_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I hope to someday look as cute and wear fun strapless clothes like Trish! We all gotta have a dream, right?</div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-78871272146824351342009-05-14T14:33:00.002-05:002009-05-14T15:13:01.593-05:00Doodle Day!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1HQowSq31o4tiHdqrQ3-3P7g1U2X8KQ_Cv2adLR0HE5726H9wSJqy9_HQ2rT0NKLFVsaPv9gVxczMSvX2lF9d_UQ9LQBWGBUr0rXypSRCCbcqqTnekxql2_gODl4sicaXmWRvuzc/s1600-h/20090511_6419.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335769658814596050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1HQowSq31o4tiHdqrQ3-3P7g1U2X8KQ_Cv2adLR0HE5726H9wSJqy9_HQ2rT0NKLFVsaPv9gVxczMSvX2lF9d_UQ9LQBWGBUr0rXypSRCCbcqqTnekxql2_gODl4sicaXmWRvuzc/s400/20090511_6419.JPG" border="0" /></a> My Doodlebug is 4. We survived 2... whizzed past 3... and we have soundly landed at 4. Raising a daughter is so much different than raising boys. The boys don't have the emotional ups and downs that my daughter has. And they don't have her tenderness. She's a great little sister, big sister and daughter and I am so blessed to have her as my own!<br /><br /><div align="center">Happy Birthday Doodlebug!<br /></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-61338415284622383552009-05-07T07:04:00.003-05:002009-05-07T10:45:25.548-05:00Following A Dream<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EX6hUf9KjKtGayDvd5kV0vQmFj-u8U5dw7rcbznWsXPY8NSS0Lf5FArqRuL0OFC-m0RY6dy3bWZjJ0V8qhEf-I1o6HDkltUZ1nLmoBNP1Jh8FiQiCT_iB9Gf5BjDXKclKrw05xn6/s1600-h/first+recital.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333106012500466338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EX6hUf9KjKtGayDvd5kV0vQmFj-u8U5dw7rcbznWsXPY8NSS0Lf5FArqRuL0OFC-m0RY6dy3bWZjJ0V8qhEf-I1o6HDkltUZ1nLmoBNP1Jh8FiQiCT_iB9Gf5BjDXKclKrw05xn6/s400/first+recital.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>When you're a kid, people ask you all the time, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I think grown ups do it to see what kind of kid they're talking to. A driven kid: "I want to be an astronaut." A creative kid: "I want to be a banana!" A lazy kid: "I want to just watch TV all day." Or maybe to see what a kid is interested in: "I want to be a football player!"</div><div> </div><div>Well, I hated getting asked that question. I didn't know. Until I started dancing. I could see myself dancing forever. I wanted to dance in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Rockettes</span>. I wanted to be a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kilgore</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Rangerette</span>. I wanted to be on Broadway. I loved it! So when someone would ask me want I wanted to be, I wanted to be a dancer.</div><div> </div><div>As I got older, I realized I couldn't do it. I wasn't cut throat enough. I wasn't good enough either. But I could teach. I was good enough for that.</div><div> </div><div>But as time went on, I married a military man, we lived in Alaska, and I had babies. I have always missed that part of me... but just accepted that it was gone.</div><div> </div><div>Until now. </div><div> </div><div>There was a strange rumor going around after the Doodlebug's recital that the dance teacher was leaving. After a little investigation, I found out it wasn't a rumor. She WAS leaving. And the dream began to arise again in my gut. Could I teach dance here? Am I too old? Am I too out of touch?</div><div> </div><div>The answer... YES! Yes, I can teach dance! Yes, I'm old! Yes, I'm out of touch! And YES! I'm terrified of the thought of all those Mommies and Daddies seeing me in a leotard! But I'm going to do it anyway!</div><div> </div><div>Look out world! Here I come! (I'm the one stuffed into my too tight leotard hiding in the back of the room!)</div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-35219343368670355512009-05-01T20:07:00.007-05:002009-05-02T00:04:30.008-05:00My Baby Had Another Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_mOEUYYS0vKEf8nz5-U6S2tzO1NsjKNJdyN0GG8tJNfIWgb2OLp_Oc_4PFxp7EwLG1BVUPEvv1EVjYSP5boqk1PF0el6Y5ZBvTTf4HOs7yBiVMwvF4tjQzppcmp9ZTdj6G-NJvtD/s1600-h/IMG8940_017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331050115929418658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_mOEUYYS0vKEf8nz5-U6S2tzO1NsjKNJdyN0GG8tJNfIWgb2OLp_Oc_4PFxp7EwLG1BVUPEvv1EVjYSP5boqk1PF0el6Y5ZBvTTf4HOs7yBiVMwvF4tjQzppcmp9ZTdj6G-NJvtD/s400/IMG8940_017.jpg" border="0" /></a> Here's my Baby... 2 years ago. I love this picture! He was so tiny. My smallest boy. And so alert at 2 days old.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho1wS3bBDof69g1RTsIovg5iRNurC3BjraBzVmqLFlLP_AYnFm2YW0fEnHstuIAHlZrCPrwA6TwrnU-D3VtRxfIsQQY0UVm9zAVTHoeJTroTyGMUa9XGE0Z1r0jeT5RfkCh3_kKNqj/s1600-h/3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331043269312486786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho1wS3bBDof69g1RTsIovg5iRNurC3BjraBzVmqLFlLP_AYnFm2YW0fEnHstuIAHlZrCPrwA6TwrnU-D3VtRxfIsQQY0UVm9zAVTHoeJTroTyGMUa9XGE0Z1r0jeT5RfkCh3_kKNqj/s400/3.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then at one, he was just a little explorer. He was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">movin</span>' and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">shakin</span>'. And <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">talkin</span>' my ear off. Some things don't change in a year.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigetzlODoMgKmIGKbG-6VWhnW_vQTXRTNnfWkEcz1H0x5VTOj4f0DR9bIudYFgomrcg5o73Cl1UoFIPsOu16s6R4FYB3phKIGS9zkd5c3ii2i_LA3vsgMFbfg7NogDj0puh9DUcDvW/s1600-h/20090425_6267.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331035681188210914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigetzlODoMgKmIGKbG-6VWhnW_vQTXRTNnfWkEcz1H0x5VTOj4f0DR9bIudYFgomrcg5o73Cl1UoFIPsOu16s6R4FYB3phKIGS9zkd5c3ii2i_LA3vsgMFbfg7NogDj0puh9DUcDvW/s400/20090425_6267.JPG" border="0" /></a> Saturday, we celebrated his birthday... as well as the Doodlebug's recital and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Chojuk's</span> Blue and Gold Banquet. It was a busy day. But we made sure to open presents. The Doodlebug supervised. See the hands on hips? She's in training for middle management.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdZfdSNGmmSt_ofnVBFWA4Xfx7qPkEWrK_lo5J3s9nTm0WH1kcgT-XAR4RS8uYKSNLD5GtM0eElCo-M9ujLF0GL25Yy08S0lFYqO7D0CbleNND0y0GnvSqu-c8ipUiQlx9TGg0Zx-/s1600-h/20090425_6281.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331033697650704818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdZfdSNGmmSt_ofnVBFWA4Xfx7qPkEWrK_lo5J3s9nTm0WH1kcgT-XAR4RS8uYKSNLD5GtM0eElCo-M9ujLF0GL25Yy08S0lFYqO7D0CbleNND0y0GnvSqu-c8ipUiQlx9TGg0Zx-/s400/20090425_6281.JPG" border="0" /></a> My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Snugglebug</span> was excited about every gift and pushed him on to the next gift. I think he was secretly hoping something in there would hold some interest to him. The Doodlebug, however, genuinely was interested in every thing he got. More toys for her.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3WIhyphenhyphenx3k04n2JjGhJWz-IEeLoOkTQ7442AcmPnxfL6eyMnyuo0qiNYDD75iA1pxoxjoqckxyXhcgGg4fx2iJ3n1nL4nAG6YtG7xyjnCZZLuhpx2ynYcSZeog_tF4688-x4zU68CO/s1600-h/20090425_6284.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331030594757795762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3WIhyphenhyphenx3k04n2JjGhJWz-IEeLoOkTQ7442AcmPnxfL6eyMnyuo0qiNYDD75iA1pxoxjoqckxyXhcgGg4fx2iJ3n1nL4nAG6YtG7xyjnCZZLuhpx2ynYcSZeog_tF4688-x4zU68CO/s400/20090425_6284.JPG" border="0" /></a> This classic was a hit. It's now in a million pieces all over my living room floor. But it was fun while it lasted. I guess that's a lesson for the Baby of the family. If you want it to remain in one piece, don't share!</div><div> </div><div align="center">Happy Birthday to My Baby!</div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-82840618665615494902009-04-30T07:50:00.006-05:002009-04-30T09:45:02.427-05:00From Wolf to Bear<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Chojuk</span> had his big Blue and Gold Banquet last weekend. (It was a busy weekend!) The Blue and Gold Banquet for the Cub Scouts is where they give awards, and promotions, to the kids. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chojuk</span> went from being a Wolf to a Bear.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTPolrxRrfQYnXgBgKgfz8K1igJ0w54k3s34JH2DfvRTfzQG1fh-jkMrN4j0vrAB2pmRW7T-2GU_1acfb2exQjJ6GvAUK9mAX1XNRNY_VLuLlhlXzjaiRriZRGyYMd8UYALYCFPxZ/s1600-h/20090425_6292.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330483252644889874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTPolrxRrfQYnXgBgKgfz8K1igJ0w54k3s34JH2DfvRTfzQG1fh-jkMrN4j0vrAB2pmRW7T-2GU_1acfb2exQjJ6GvAUK9mAX1XNRNY_VLuLlhlXzjaiRriZRGyYMd8UYALYCFPxZ/s400/20090425_6292.JPG" border="0" /></a> These are his buddies. At A&M, your "buddies" are the folks you are in the Corps with. The ones who suffer through the tough stuff and celebrate the achievements with. I think it's safe to use that term with these guys.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8N7wPH3uWYygJUzVcDrVFlSrOZcT9x88ld198pUNgeaA7ULRJ-_V3LGnYA9NAcfHWDzy2yO7aDTRDUFVeBUIGe5iu4HuAcCjJAJp-LJD7KMG6hfJVbaCz4tKl4071QzBtmnq4NFP/s1600-h/20090425_6304.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330478432833638962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8N7wPH3uWYygJUzVcDrVFlSrOZcT9x88ld198pUNgeaA7ULRJ-_V3LGnYA9NAcfHWDzy2yO7aDTRDUFVeBUIGe5iu4HuAcCjJAJp-LJD7KMG6hfJVbaCz4tKl4071QzBtmnq4NFP/s400/20090425_6304.JPG" border="0" /></a> This is our fearless leader and her son. She is fearless. And that woman thinks of everything! She is organized and on the ball. She doesn't miss a beat and doesn't let our boys miss one either! When we slow down as a den and don't feel like moving, she drags us through! Everyone should be as blessed as we are to have such a wonderful leader!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_6wXsPwj7HyxtqHowRQVZduN7l5kW1YuwjJbm6PnU8-bhiJWrzY3DiB9lKLmf96VBCZ6vTfzZZfwOp605M2RgMVKvNn1VREr-BD_L2Xu15GqML6TNJtWk8WhAceG1y2Xptuoqi5v/s1600-h/20090425_6309.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330474706110322770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_6wXsPwj7HyxtqHowRQVZduN7l5kW1YuwjJbm6PnU8-bhiJWrzY3DiB9lKLmf96VBCZ6vTfzZZfwOp605M2RgMVKvNn1VREr-BD_L2Xu15GqML6TNJtWk8WhAceG1y2Xptuoqi5v/s400/20090425_6309.JPG" border="0" /></a> She found this cool ceremony for the boys to do at the banquet. They had their faces painted. Each stripe was unique to the level the boys had achieved and each stripe and color meant something. The Nutty Papa painted <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Chojuk's</span> stripes so I could take pictures.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3HrUxnE-ALToMOLplbOFxEEzWQmySkapAKsFwjPA0c0ijWsd18RRWiKFIQrA2XAGGWtjc1-wTrQgo9wnGPCY_dIcrnBZ9wxGu5lQuevPY8c-jgMVQkvKRgBS4HvHPwzLJKs-36iq/s1600-h/20090425_6312.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330470935111479826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3HrUxnE-ALToMOLplbOFxEEzWQmySkapAKsFwjPA0c0ijWsd18RRWiKFIQrA2XAGGWtjc1-wTrQgo9wnGPCY_dIcrnBZ9wxGu5lQuevPY8c-jgMVQkvKRgBS4HvHPwzLJKs-36iq/s400/20090425_6312.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Chojuk</span> loved having his face painted! He asked if we could do it again tomorrow. "Maybe for Halloween."</div><div> </div><div>We had a fun time at our banquet! Now on to the Bear requirements...</div><div> </div><div align="center">Anyone know how to handle a knife?</div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-46562808928426996062009-04-27T12:46:00.008-05:002009-04-28T15:44:29.767-05:00The Ballet Cycle<div align="center">My Mom did it. I did it. And now my daughter has done it. Danced. In a recital. I'm so proud!</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMr9ZQ_E4uXnueCKd9HJQNkyk1sXHhSq0ALquyL2p-Y6CWOBZXSymgzgRDBnPbRX9QD5OYOyAoIpMIuuW7uLUwMWPu-p6UvhOQIAHKLoeFC_o7oQlb_u1phMF2VywTDBuDP8Vc0hMy/s1600-h/20090424_6239.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329841676951378690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMr9ZQ_E4uXnueCKd9HJQNkyk1sXHhSq0ALquyL2p-Y6CWOBZXSymgzgRDBnPbRX9QD5OYOyAoIpMIuuW7uLUwMWPu-p6UvhOQIAHKLoeFC_o7oQlb_u1phMF2VywTDBuDP8Vc0hMy/s400/20090424_6239.JPG" border="0" /></a> We put on the makeup. She LOVES this part. Can't you tell?</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dxPQfNCAKDF4ljaxDLamTyuvxEYlJ_eyvRpePwixo0Xq2oysylGtSKD8Jskve_Z-VqHBXynFwfODfyKxPkgeIRgGAalriJJC-GqO-OWR2-jRCKhM07Oo4RWMxnj5CEng3bJlSka1/s1600-h/20090425_6252.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329838162587859650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dxPQfNCAKDF4ljaxDLamTyuvxEYlJ_eyvRpePwixo0Xq2oysylGtSKD8Jskve_Z-VqHBXynFwfODfyKxPkgeIRgGAalriJJC-GqO-OWR2-jRCKhM07Oo4RWMxnj5CEng3bJlSka1/s400/20090425_6252.JPG" border="0" /></a> Then we put on the itchy, scratchy, costume... with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pokey</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pinchy</span> crown. Beauty is pain, I tell her.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrRAPlZs-GP0LXBta_4dBFDIvUcL3bsXA1QaP1GZ-2F9JTe1iybmTe8Zs8mBFqdPBkDWNEa1SLrGCy_pR2NoWrKlLzOMnaEQtT9L7Vm_HFe-rSrv4GclrTPOZ8f-8oH2MBIBpbqrm/s1600-h/20090425_6262.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329836623162669090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrRAPlZs-GP0LXBta_4dBFDIvUcL3bsXA1QaP1GZ-2F9JTe1iybmTe8Zs8mBFqdPBkDWNEa1SLrGCy_pR2NoWrKlLzOMnaEQtT9L7Vm_HFe-rSrv4GclrTPOZ8f-8oH2MBIBpbqrm/s400/20090425_6262.JPG" border="0" /></a> She lined up with her other teapots, and....<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtriumqCnkDUfsOBqlPF164mOhEWT7IwLf7fyZhNiXHpxLQpiYlBpjCYpnX3R60wVAHRxzYYlJSef01NRr8IgcpcHyWsywCuBq3yfdj-rAPQLDx6I1ss8bjQVJ6-HBo71jz01H5eF7/s1600-h/20090424_6248.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329453955040214226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtriumqCnkDUfsOBqlPF164mOhEWT7IwLf7fyZhNiXHpxLQpiYlBpjCYpnX3R60wVAHRxzYYlJSef01NRr8IgcpcHyWsywCuBq3yfdj-rAPQLDx6I1ss8bjQVJ6-HBo71jz01H5eF7/s400/20090424_6248.JPG" border="0" /></a> "...Here is my spout!"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuJ7Or1BmxKjMIAxM06E3Ejt0rDzCvrZKwwKUDo1lKjWtM4izZV391Xvoq0mL1FJl-qRSqWLLTu6XYVrH8Tj8YuQej7pfN8tNRApzXYMYFT24U_YQh10ZAT2Q8XnIbGyTCElNx3ND/s1600-h/20090424_6249.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329451486803686114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuJ7Or1BmxKjMIAxM06E3Ejt0rDzCvrZKwwKUDo1lKjWtM4izZV391Xvoq0mL1FJl-qRSqWLLTu6XYVrH8Tj8YuQej7pfN8tNRApzXYMYFT24U_YQh10ZAT2Q8XnIbGyTCElNx3ND/s400/20090424_6249.JPG" border="0" /></a> It was so fun to see her dance! And there were 6 little girls all with different approaches to this dancing thing. There was the show off, the speed demon, the watcher, Miss Independent (can you guess who that was?) and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cryer</span>. I was beaming with pride and excitement! I just can't wait already until next year.<br /><br />She's not so sure about it. But I have a few months to convince her she loves it!<br /><br />Can't accuse me of living through my daughter.<br /></div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-23628453322164217772009-04-24T08:39:00.007-05:002009-04-24T13:50:44.880-05:00The Holy Spirit Blesses the Nutty ForestYesterday, my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Snugglebug</span> and I were out at the barn. When we walked in, we spooked a dove. She flew right into the window and dropped to the ground. I hate when birds do this. Not knowing what else to do, I call to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Snugglebug</span>, my resident animal lover, and ask him to rescue the dove. He very gently walked over to her, and picked her up. She flew down a few feel to the floor. He picked her up again. And again, she flew to the floor. We finally managed to get her out of the barn and into the grass, but she just couldn't seem to take flight. I thought if we could catch her, and put her in a box until the Nutty Papa got home, she'd be safe... <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">at least</span> from the dogs.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-ueZSMMmz1doVeYhM0TVzd3x291YdHj0OUgXhx-sELBIx5h9NrbitRpG1SjCBVBfxOKv84ibtG1tnnyGZlIz-fzqtzW702PA28xMujLc1NG8_mAY2_psonCVxjdZI4NfAjQQk5wL/s1600-h/20090422_6222.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328324616643268514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-ueZSMMmz1doVeYhM0TVzd3x291YdHj0OUgXhx-sELBIx5h9NrbitRpG1SjCBVBfxOKv84ibtG1tnnyGZlIz-fzqtzW702PA28xMujLc1NG8_mAY2_psonCVxjdZI4NfAjQQk5wL/s400/20090422_6222.JPG" border="0" /></a> We went searching for her in the yard and couldn't find her. Finally the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Snugglebug</span> ran back to the house to tell his big brother, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Chojuk</span>. He listened carefully to his little brother share his story and suddenly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">interrupted</span>. "Wait a minute... wait a minute. Did you say a DOVE? The dove is the bird that God sent as the Holy Spirit. THAT'S THE HOLY SPIRIT!! WE HAVE TO GO FIND IT!!!" And out the door they flew.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJ920rYIBIfjgCnMNUbEkdJ4XP0TFfV5XHnQWdUkxLXc1rVqEmlvp33JaCm-6mGaaOCxv3puvXYVA8wgUhpMlUomWwAj0jF491X9VKpIJbCw34fggFsRqGYMXLLSLvv9KTxk0vnRP/s1600-h/20090422_6224.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328302122601078562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJ920rYIBIfjgCnMNUbEkdJ4XP0TFfV5XHnQWdUkxLXc1rVqEmlvp33JaCm-6mGaaOCxv3puvXYVA8wgUhpMlUomWwAj0jF491X9VKpIJbCw34fggFsRqGYMXLLSLvv9KTxk0vnRP/s400/20090422_6224.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Chojuk</span> put his detective hat on. He'd seen someone feel the ground when searching for something before, so he did too. (Such a flare for the dramatics... I can't image where he gets that from.)<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeIATnbCX_bmnVIZIjPuiSW7Sz7xMt2QLnLMjcL0Fl6bU-KHbyimATe9mC_bAKp87CM6P6YJ-IktTLGS6XjDGhHhYl09QhWUu4WSqDdsEr4N1Um_DRsormXJTi2u0oeLLuWgS_V3D_/s1600-h/20090422_6225.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328294227508475474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeIATnbCX_bmnVIZIjPuiSW7Sz7xMt2QLnLMjcL0Fl6bU-KHbyimATe9mC_bAKp87CM6P6YJ-IktTLGS6XjDGhHhYl09QhWUu4WSqDdsEr4N1Um_DRsormXJTi2u0oeLLuWgS_V3D_/s400/20090422_6225.JPG" border="0" /></a> Finally they agreed to check the barn again. Maybe she had returned. She hadn't. I'm afraid she flew off to die... but I just can't bring myself to suggest that to them.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzodd5mU8S9AS_fXYkJWX44ix1TriHMt7fR6VQD9TaR-6u0p7Xar79Tk6l4EE1xVbCQfs4QHCp2d1oo_UTVKAvfIp-m1AOunBTNa6Vq00KAokYiNOm-jSix376h_trEyiCZ_TXfdQ1/s1600-h/20090423_6234.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328275862350071890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzodd5mU8S9AS_fXYkJWX44ix1TriHMt7fR6VQD9TaR-6u0p7Xar79Tk6l4EE1xVbCQfs4QHCp2d1oo_UTVKAvfIp-m1AOunBTNa6Vq00KAokYiNOm-jSix376h_trEyiCZ_TXfdQ1/s400/20090423_6234.JPG" border="0" /></a> We went again this morning to check and see if she'd returned. The Doodlebug joined the adventure this time... she drove her gator and wore no clothes. Ah... the life of a country kid!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_xl_lo2ApHUeSDDxxZh9lcCdbAJt5CZ-IHN678b7Xqrh9Asn4WoxPDT3GwOI0bdIhWleSBJ7fU0pDYBx9eXP17vlJ9WtLSAbLiinfOCBSFe6nQfABNHj4g4QIIY1Q4Ah6kBUh4FD/s1600-h/20090423_6236.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328269719247582978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_xl_lo2ApHUeSDDxxZh9lcCdbAJt5CZ-IHN678b7Xqrh9Asn4WoxPDT3GwOI0bdIhWleSBJ7fU0pDYBx9eXP17vlJ9WtLSAbLiinfOCBSFe6nQfABNHj4g4QIIY1Q4Ah6kBUh4FD/s400/20090423_6236.JPG" border="0" /></a> There was A dove in the nest... but there's no telling if it was THE dove. The kids were convinced it was her and that she's busy protecting her babies. Then we were all informed that the Holy Spirit is alive and well and living in the barn.<br /><br />So if you are looking for her, you'll know where to send your prayers. </div></div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-77896136465808910202009-04-22T14:18:00.005-05:002009-04-23T07:22:42.250-05:00Chojuk's First Communion<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Chojuk</span> had his first communion this past weekend. There were 42 children receiving this sacrament and it was a lovely ceremony. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chojuk</span> has been chomping at the bit to partake of the Eucharist. So I am glad his moment finally arrived.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-DoQ2NOJCKiqFkJgqNInqS2szk9b6DQd1n-_xOaXBVjB962ubPS9ZX8OlzG66MYdLTuQ8MejULtNhjf5EBdnMM6wf55YiVV8a9Stpxz-r9QZCj8y0TkLd-L1sd9UWF8S4c9TIDQU/s1600-h/20090418_6082.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327734086221625922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-DoQ2NOJCKiqFkJgqNInqS2szk9b6DQd1n-_xOaXBVjB962ubPS9ZX8OlzG66MYdLTuQ8MejULtNhjf5EBdnMM6wf55YiVV8a9Stpxz-r9QZCj8y0TkLd-L1sd9UWF8S4c9TIDQU/s400/20090418_6082.JPG" border="0" /></a>As he arrived in the church, he bowed in front of the alter. The priest, Father Gilberto, was there to direct traffic.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOt9XB0TNgRUQbcjdOjY-gjnVfJ1DoYTrqby6NHiS2N5tnd9hEnuyIBHRKf8eXvgibqw0a8lLctnY9ZCceaZj062UTg3qRQWtK0in9sL28f4VOOYY8-9uhQBPfvxBZj0j8ZIr-u9kK/s1600-h/20090418_6121.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327697992110546002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOt9XB0TNgRUQbcjdOjY-gjnVfJ1DoYTrqby6NHiS2N5tnd9hEnuyIBHRKf8eXvgibqw0a8lLctnY9ZCceaZj062UTg3qRQWtK0in9sL28f4VOOYY8-9uhQBPfvxBZj0j8ZIr-u9kK/s400/20090418_6121.JPG" border="0" /></a> We prayed, and passed peace.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkqq-TB6OfdIHB36lXcZhD906gKWBhBOkvkoqH2TxxgbFZ99sXq_ok1WYwIusA0xU7wfThQDglhzGK4bOykoCk1NbkjA4ENqiDI_llNoYZ2Q6xM8W1Ox-1NKdU6b9YWBw70bCNVX8/s1600-h/20090418_6123.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327620607491161090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkqq-TB6OfdIHB36lXcZhD906gKWBhBOkvkoqH2TxxgbFZ99sXq_ok1WYwIusA0xU7wfThQDglhzGK4bOykoCk1NbkjA4ENqiDI_llNoYZ2Q6xM8W1Ox-1NKdU6b9YWBw70bCNVX8/s400/20090418_6123.JPG" border="0" /></a> And then his moment arrived. He received the Eucharist with grace and pride.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXT2nxrNVAOZ0BevnjGv2kFLJW3sPKRjts5Q9IOfLEHWbYC3JjDuRCR0EnscXx_4z4tIytiUQSs6Xi0cGSurnjc7nLhnlBVGKqV-UF6nhyphenhyphennPkFQC4TyNB_1pAenil1XIqTUct8PNzd/s1600-h/20090418_6202.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327613855642489634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXT2nxrNVAOZ0BevnjGv2kFLJW3sPKRjts5Q9IOfLEHWbYC3JjDuRCR0EnscXx_4z4tIytiUQSs6Xi0cGSurnjc7nLhnlBVGKqV-UF6nhyphenhyphennPkFQC4TyNB_1pAenil1XIqTUct8PNzd/s400/20090418_6202.JPG" border="0" /></a> And then returned to his seat to pray. It was a lovely day. I'm so proud of him.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVqO7Jb_VqN7C8L6M67dLjYyapjVntP74nwvKU_WIM68WEOwEt26z8WkRbh6TeP6XSXNd2q8GFMQk8FYAvtFiQx30obKkaHcbkcwFu3vpqceLSZWssfcFvRsGPxUCUIJ-wYuKuNez/s1600-h/20090418_6221.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327600099167845474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVqO7Jb_VqN7C8L6M67dLjYyapjVntP74nwvKU_WIM68WEOwEt26z8WkRbh6TeP6XSXNd2q8GFMQk8FYAvtFiQx30obKkaHcbkcwFu3vpqceLSZWssfcFvRsGPxUCUIJ-wYuKuNez/s400/20090418_6221.JPG" border="0" /></a> One more sign that my baby is growing up. </div></div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-17815234841246344302009-04-21T09:53:00.002-05:002009-04-21T10:05:53.826-05:00The Coolest Thing EVER!I had the coolest thing happen to me yesterday. I was so floored, I forgot to take pictures. Maybe I'll post some later. I am just so glad I live in a small town with the BEST neighbors EVER!<br /><br />Yesterday I was taking the Doodlebug to her ballet class. As I drove down our half mile dirt driveway, I noticed the ruts and holes that I usually bump my way down were missing. MISSING! How did this happen? The holes were BIG. Enormous. And they were gone.<br /><br />I thought I'd call the Nutty Papa and ask him if he knew what was going on, and I noticed a missed call from my Friendly Cotton <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Pickin</span>' neighbor. No. Way. I had to call and see what was going on. <br /><br />"Hello, Friendly Cotton <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Pickin</span>' neighbor!"<br /><br />"Hello!"<br /><br />"Were you on my driveway today?"<br /><br />"Yes <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">M'am</span>."<br /><br />Be still my heart! I just about broke out in tears!<br /><br />Then he says, "I'm not done..." WHAT?!? "I was calling to tell you to drive on it... over and over so we can get that dirt packed down. Then I'll have to come back to fix more."<br /><br />"Thank you so much! You just made my day!!!"<br /><br />What an amazing thing to do for someone! We had someone, a professional, come in and tell us he'd fix it for $6000. And my Friendly Cotton <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Pickin</span>' neighbor just does it! I don't think I'll ever be able to say thanks enough.<br /><br />If I fall on my knees in prostration in front of him at the next T-ball game and sing his praises, is that a little over the top?The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-48375213866883084542009-04-18T07:15:00.000-05:002009-04-18T07:15:00.205-05:00This Nut Didn't Fall Far From the TreeDarcy's first Dance Recital is next week. And to prove once again that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree... I took pictures.<br /><br />I thought I needed to practice doing her hair since every hair on her head has to be up in a "bun." We got special permission to just have a pony tail, but it's still going to be a struggle. AND... once I get it up, there's no guarantee she'll sit completely still until she dances so as not to pull it down. I take that back. There is a guarantee... that she WON'T sit still.<br /><br />Anyway, I bought some gel at the store, slicked back her hair, and stuck on her crown. Then she looked in the mirror to see what she looked like.<br /><div align="center"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYjzGRNdELkQO4vyIJIayJMGNwwGvLGWsDtDtukcnUPoMtygWZR0KHCLXyOEtM6khwNwm8xNp3gzoGffUVTjQj8zjnh0Ig-5nw9HbOFg7-x0yPiO7O8irzFBERDbKsI9ZN54gW7f7V/s1600-h/20090417_6042.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325802043169698194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYjzGRNdELkQO4vyIJIayJMGNwwGvLGWsDtDtukcnUPoMtygWZR0KHCLXyOEtM6khwNwm8xNp3gzoGffUVTjQj8zjnh0Ig-5nw9HbOFg7-x0yPiO7O8irzFBERDbKsI9ZN54gW7f7V/s400/20090417_6042.JPG" border="0" /></a> I think she approved!</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZHVHGry_ZORUV4CTbwfWY3ANzfgIGWWHvNv3cPXBSfdM9VoamAj0zHmhAXALP7SJxVsEdoHnp74zr7IycomN034RC9umRRA3ZN_KsCxcPK7gQzU7ciC_RQ8QSzKNTqlmFMmWN2o3/s1600-h/20090417_6044.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325788664140501810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZHVHGry_ZORUV4CTbwfWY3ANzfgIGWWHvNv3cPXBSfdM9VoamAj0zHmhAXALP7SJxVsEdoHnp74zr7IycomN034RC9umRRA3ZN_KsCxcPK7gQzU7ciC_RQ8QSzKNTqlmFMmWN2o3/s400/20090417_6044.JPG" border="0" /></a> Then to entice her to sit a little longer, I offered to put on some makeup. She liked the lip stick.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiw604fJxGM5iyd2wwgAVl9bIZJV22rpdEHcoZW-1V9VsSV3ODQsQT5DL2dZ6k4J6RdwCIVRh5q94FdN0fAJXL6Y4GIF-DzU2H5omYKW3g4m7lx8NFqUZJbUrbQLnQi853i81iiT7C/s1600-h/20090417_6048.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325785579273235858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiw604fJxGM5iyd2wwgAVl9bIZJV22rpdEHcoZW-1V9VsSV3ODQsQT5DL2dZ6k4J6RdwCIVRh5q94FdN0fAJXL6Y4GIF-DzU2H5omYKW3g4m7lx8NFqUZJbUrbQLnQi853i81iiT7C/s400/20090417_6048.JPG" border="0" /></a> Or maybe she licked the lipstick. And by the way, this is only half of the pictures I took of her. And every one is different. I just couldn't do that to you. You have other things to do today.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHplhCPafg2j3r8tP7VY_dz01nCebwcOw8vYxqKoy-AT48Z7r_tdkR25DvPcgYbbr9euOqT9DqwP7oE1gzYq7xjz8TKLv7wzZ1QT-cqBZXLV2aCF2Nw2FnciKaowD4NOQRUeGViVfY/s1600-h/20090417_6053.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325783068601481282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHplhCPafg2j3r8tP7VY_dz01nCebwcOw8vYxqKoy-AT48Z7r_tdkR25DvPcgYbbr9euOqT9DqwP7oE1gzYq7xjz8TKLv7wzZ1QT-cqBZXLV2aCF2Nw2FnciKaowD4NOQRUeGViVfY/s400/20090417_6053.JPG" border="0" /></a> Then she wanted me to put "makeup on her toes." So we painted them pink. She sat so still and loved every minute of it. I'm so glad she's a girlie girl! <br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO6DYC7QbWQ6nDm41MAR3EtASWkmjXWq7ualKq0PUX8HFwiLO0X-57A5UDo3Ilx82x0H9Bv8ZRTYgCRe40MRkMYKb3GtXFU33H15JjKGj4lpvK9vFo_QkLIc0xJVIyxOxEV7yfFGF1/s1600-h/20090417_6041.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325781663829302962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO6DYC7QbWQ6nDm41MAR3EtASWkmjXWq7ualKq0PUX8HFwiLO0X-57A5UDo3Ilx82x0H9Bv8ZRTYgCRe40MRkMYKb3GtXFU33H15JjKGj4lpvK9vFo_QkLIc0xJVIyxOxEV7yfFGF1/s400/20090417_6041.JPG" border="0" /></a> Once again here's proof that "I hope you have one just like you" really works. </div><div> </div><div>Thanks, Mom. I feel your pain. <div></div></div></div><br /></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-64752875562285824432009-04-17T08:21:00.004-05:002009-04-17T13:20:25.588-05:00I'm Feeling Nutty!<div align="center">We've got nuts!</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzdtmzBHmLSY8ypa8eTptxJQwNiRoqYKlvguJiNhrshtqsfw-tD2bKg6jMZvYydOk6Z-bjtGiMtU3bXBEo1av6kYwh6T5r_BzsM6IMORJc8VBPUTd4JMyIEs6dsmi3WDZF1qvboYr/s1600-h/20090413_6037.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325711057702620706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzdtmzBHmLSY8ypa8eTptxJQwNiRoqYKlvguJiNhrshtqsfw-tD2bKg6jMZvYydOk6Z-bjtGiMtU3bXBEo1av6kYwh6T5r_BzsM6IMORJc8VBPUTd4JMyIEs6dsmi3WDZF1qvboYr/s400/20090413_6037.JPG" border="0" /></a> Teeny tiny, itty bitty nuts!</div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCiAaJf0l-zIMJPnoHS8YsOI_rh7ZY9gOtmAwuDYGBW0-ZBTOk4suYZ9E29X4S42pj-B6v-eruEMck7DqasfGDgLjIqf9hC_wHvM-twVS6IULDTnsWlXyJzVLhcEFEzDkAL_IJLCU/s1600-h/20090413_6038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325671542839801010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCiAaJf0l-zIMJPnoHS8YsOI_rh7ZY9gOtmAwuDYGBW0-ZBTOk4suYZ9E29X4S42pj-B6v-eruEMck7DqasfGDgLjIqf9hC_wHvM-twVS6IULDTnsWlXyJzVLhcEFEzDkAL_IJLCU/s400/20090413_6038.JPG" border="0" /></a> But they're there!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq35YpJdCpgVB6ghc4PLYBoVwq1YQpZyZqU08gFbKW_QRLlVrjy2tEyHn-pVKnWGZo2XTzVeJUqEF4T1M6S1dHhzl62oT_EaGyoW4EuPOxyyXzc_fxHcK-CpyR-8lkC0ehYDyxg-uz/s1600-h/20090413_6036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325653847392909922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq35YpJdCpgVB6ghc4PLYBoVwq1YQpZyZqU08gFbKW_QRLlVrjy2tEyHn-pVKnWGZo2XTzVeJUqEF4T1M6S1dHhzl62oT_EaGyoW4EuPOxyyXzc_fxHcK-CpyR-8lkC0ehYDyxg-uz/s400/20090413_6036.JPG" border="0" /></a> You know what this means?!? The trees have done their part, now it's time for me to do mine! Say a prayer for a bountiful harvest this year... we need it! <div></div></div><br /></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-81272709864238602572009-04-14T22:24:00.008-05:002009-04-15T15:18:27.347-05:00Easter Pride and JoyEaster is a great time to get a picture of everyone. The kids are all hopped up on candy and sugar and in good moods... for the most part.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_VzbPMUFMHjewmk9owFJszsU_MC3ruzPYHw340c9N9cJQcx0yish6snsLpBjRT0MDSkvC5GG73OVJQLyvIpyTmuZ-ANq7R6SsP-gXj9FAQp1sybG7Haga54szyQ3NppL_ozYPD7O/s1600-h/20090412_5988.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325001872071771650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_VzbPMUFMHjewmk9owFJszsU_MC3ruzPYHw340c9N9cJQcx0yish6snsLpBjRT0MDSkvC5GG73OVJQLyvIpyTmuZ-ANq7R6SsP-gXj9FAQp1sybG7Haga54szyQ3NppL_ozYPD7O/s400/20090412_5988.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here's the Baby. He's almost 2. Handsome little guy isn't he? He looks just like his bigger brother, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Snugglebug</span>.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkU6IMT89uMCjOpF1XRfVzcxH_w2XrcK7uMVigiavK4tV8AHJQuOuIAfe6XhRysQxxQ21YoYwC2LTlDN9nuciP7QhP_5P28rXDNRkko1uRy8W1Se1tjN3xnU-0oY4BzAjjfhM16mTQ/s1600-h/20090412_5978.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324993346639308418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkU6IMT89uMCjOpF1XRfVzcxH_w2XrcK7uMVigiavK4tV8AHJQuOuIAfe6XhRysQxxQ21YoYwC2LTlDN9nuciP7QhP_5P28rXDNRkko1uRy8W1Se1tjN3xnU-0oY4BzAjjfhM16mTQ/s400/20090412_5978.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here's the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Snugglebug</span>. He's at the point in his camera life where he can't quite figure out what to do when I say, "Smile!" After a few tries, I finally got a good one. Isn't he cute?<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMJqr8byOhEXQN1CckeqZl_c2v-BHPwOHy_MmJqmQSwhIajxC3S5aR7qhjilFJQ4szjg3Sbvyn-i-sn8aOXorALquJKCcLhhTgLxS4Tz7GYZYXT0Dmnzh3X2cIQc-BTkStjkgptya/s1600-h/20090412_5982.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324978618167278482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMJqr8byOhEXQN1CckeqZl_c2v-BHPwOHy_MmJqmQSwhIajxC3S5aR7qhjilFJQ4szjg3Sbvyn-i-sn8aOXorALquJKCcLhhTgLxS4Tz7GYZYXT0Dmnzh3X2cIQc-BTkStjkgptya/s400/20090412_5982.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here's the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Chojuk</span>. Man, he's getting big. But when I look at this picture, I still see that chubby little guy that came into my life eight years ago. And those dimples! Enough to melt your heart!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAECqBl_ZKJBM1TIdVstGVCEw0kFIqPy8_ZNQtqyTffEyLEPegMY4PYVAhGRIXQfpdWvF2__xV6DEQ0-W8NuoxMbhV960KCl-ZDLD_5EGHvGB0SldQTgFJf2KjiondvVASXJBV_mhG/s1600-h/20090412_5984.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324973431039407506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAECqBl_ZKJBM1TIdVstGVCEw0kFIqPy8_ZNQtqyTffEyLEPegMY4PYVAhGRIXQfpdWvF2__xV6DEQ0-W8NuoxMbhV960KCl-ZDLD_5EGHvGB0SldQTgFJf2KjiondvVASXJBV_mhG/s400/20090412_5984.JPG" border="0" /></a> And then there's the Doodlebug. She wasn't happy at me for making her stand still for any length of time. She had places to go, things to do, candy to eat, kittens to terrorize.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQB167WE72xq3UOCj1JpKjADU5JnWQihpZ2ouFoJ0-hED2NbYzGKrAEvsQEWmzcCB78wehFNuS3mtjWQyPXXa7p0IiY4f5BuWBvf-UZXMd3F8c8eYFFeHrIoKRdePjE3RW4hMqhr7c/s1600-h/20090412_5971.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324765418157593570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQB167WE72xq3UOCj1JpKjADU5JnWQihpZ2ouFoJ0-hED2NbYzGKrAEvsQEWmzcCB78wehFNuS3mtjWQyPXXa7p0IiY4f5BuWBvf-UZXMd3F8c8eYFFeHrIoKRdePjE3RW4hMqhr7c/s400/20090412_5971.JPG" border="0" /></a> But I won her over in the end. Isn't she beautiful!<br /><br /><div>Ah, my little bundles of joy... not so little anymore!</div></div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-26472481515838162162009-04-13T22:30:00.005-05:002009-04-14T07:50:38.247-05:00Roadtrip OdditiesWe drove down to my in-laws to celebrate Easter. It's an easy 3 hour drive. The kids love to see the scenery change as it goes from rolling hills to palm trees. On this trip, however, we saw something we've never seen before.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJl8JrnEjuEcSLJF1DwO0S-F_CsLzhGd1tMUiY3Cegi_On7XwHO5i_1Lqdv4r_eioxHvRj5CjG2TMMaTBa77RgeoiAdz84NA3dj1CnSKsYfnTmaT08URZi1QxftOa3NNWShKmfRqIV/s1600-h/20090409_5920.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324410752267081250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJl8JrnEjuEcSLJF1DwO0S-F_CsLzhGd1tMUiY3Cegi_On7XwHO5i_1Lqdv4r_eioxHvRj5CjG2TMMaTBa77RgeoiAdz84NA3dj1CnSKsYfnTmaT08URZi1QxftOa3NNWShKmfRqIV/s400/20090409_5920.JPG" border="0" /></a> Is that a zebra grazing with those cows? I couldn't believe my eyes. So I turned around on the highway and went back for a second look.</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1J6VcbgU4sA9ARqTWJ1t0ZNKknA7wZ7TyrrbkGJ9GQv2D-9Ix9_8ATJQODxwHLfYBgXwQ30-t0x9E-kKFm_pD-LvB7x7pMY_bhZQY8_e2av-a8oGZO4H9NUUCNl6kNSL-XlV1MBF/s1600-h/20090409_5921.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324404582728167122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1J6VcbgU4sA9ARqTWJ1t0ZNKknA7wZ7TyrrbkGJ9GQv2D-9Ix9_8ATJQODxwHLfYBgXwQ30-t0x9E-kKFm_pD-LvB7x7pMY_bhZQY8_e2av-a8oGZO4H9NUUCNl6kNSL-XlV1MBF/s400/20090409_5921.JPG" border="0" /></a> Yep. Clear as Day. There was a zebra <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">chompin</span>' on some grass. I took quite a few pictures...<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsU081PLai20rFNOMM10MkGC1t3iUuxoNyiG3pXfJ1neA6fs4tGOps1vg_jy_iVbWkcm0388pY-vlLETrSsnF7AyV5gU4EU0Ei0SI1328tpvsmG5xoafUZ4sghx8Wljj_nga-WiZn/s1600-h/20090409_5924.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324397737092402210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsU081PLai20rFNOMM10MkGC1t3iUuxoNyiG3pXfJ1neA6fs4tGOps1vg_jy_iVbWkcm0388pY-vlLETrSsnF7AyV5gU4EU0Ei0SI1328tpvsmG5xoafUZ4sghx8Wljj_nga-WiZn/s400/20090409_5924.JPG" border="0" /></a> I think he's used to the pictures and the people stopping to watch him. He didn't get spooked. Neither did his buddy. In fact, they wouldn't even look up at me. Snobs.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBIhR0tqMLSBcLmo7dvrph1L_nGq1M5UGfoQWaR00-R3WxcaeWpk1wP2BwLuaJSdi8w8qQC28nu4pzSWaAHxrGZmHO6GOILyVqQy3_3hlnwbdTvlA4hC_C-sJ3nIdQtYw520TMTJh/s1600-h/20090409_5922.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324391602987536626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBIhR0tqMLSBcLmo7dvrph1L_nGq1M5UGfoQWaR00-R3WxcaeWpk1wP2BwLuaJSdi8w8qQC28nu4pzSWaAHxrGZmHO6GOILyVqQy3_3hlnwbdTvlA4hC_C-sJ3nIdQtYw520TMTJh/s400/20090409_5922.JPG" border="0" /></a> But I'd watch out for this guy. "Don't mess with my zebra!" <div></div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-50672370453715615232009-04-09T06:11:00.002-05:002009-04-09T07:09:27.351-05:00The Light at the End of the TunnelI'm a dreamer. I always have been. As a little girl, I did nothing but dream about life as a grown up. Being a Mom. Being a wife. I'd look around and snag ideas from the people around me. "Oh, look. They have four children. Everyone has a friend. It's an even number. I like that. I think I'll have four children." Things like that.<br /><br />One of the things that appealed to me was having a house. A home. That my kids could grow up in. Leave their memories in. Bring <em>their</em> kids to. As my kids grow, I was feeling the pressure of this dream. My inner desire to provide that stability for my children. And I began to fear it was slipping through my fingers. Until Tuesday.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0W1mHudgTgwU3RcHWnNp9qkIJQ04BcWyoGUIT8V_CyzhQc1RDlkTbFBmtwkZDZPKnYJE-i5RzKmb3DSnrZvdjl2a6RH8NBzN1yx6tmG8qr-CtE5pl-FwB7Vwl5wmmRth3nyfqPEDP/s1600-h/20080903_4243.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322652262365557730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0W1mHudgTgwU3RcHWnNp9qkIJQ04BcWyoGUIT8V_CyzhQc1RDlkTbFBmtwkZDZPKnYJE-i5RzKmb3DSnrZvdjl2a6RH8NBzN1yx6tmG8qr-CtE5pl-FwB7Vwl5wmmRth3nyfqPEDP/s400/20080903_4243.JPG" border="0" /></a> Welcome to my home. This is the home my children will grow up in. This is the home they will bring their kids to. This is our home. Isn't it lovely? And it's ours.<br /><br />Thanks to the help of my wonderful uncle, my biggest dream, hope, desire, has been fulfilled. He's my dream master. I had the dream and shared it with him. And he helped it to come true. None of this would have happened without him. He's a great teacher and pecan farming partner. And I feel so blessed to have someone like him in my life. And thanks to him, my heart is home.<br /><div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-13766175504306112842009-04-06T08:50:00.008-05:002009-04-06T10:46:54.228-05:00Pecan Farmin' and MarathonsAfter watching The Nutty Papa run his marathon last year, I learned a few things and assimilated them into my own life. (Whew! "Assimilated"! Look at that big $2.00 word! My Mama would be so proud!) <br /><br />I'm starting to think being a pecan farmer is kinda like running a marathon. The leaves have broken through and are growing... it's like the starting gun. GO! So I get started at a slow pace. Check the leaves. Check the traps. Cut the grass. Jog. Jog. <br /><br />Then as the weather heats up and things get to growing, I pick up the pace. Cut more grass. Kill some grass. Spray the trees. Count the nuts. Check for bugs. And it all seems to roll around faster than the time before. <br /><br />Over the summer, things really get <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">groovin</span>'. Water the trees. Fix broken pipes. Kill the grass. Cut the grass. Watch for bugs. Shake the trees. Faster. Faster. The pace seems to pick up. Pant, pant, pant....<br /><br />Then all of a sudden, the finish line. Harvest. We start running equipment, moving, shaking... literally. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Pickin</span>' up pecans. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Haulin</span>' pecans. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Fixin</span>' equipment. (See here... I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">goin</span>' so fast now I can't even take the time to add the "g" to my -<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ing</span>.) <br /><br />And then it's over. We cross the finish line. Whew. We take a long sit in a tub. Drink a beer. And enjoy the break. Winter.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznZoTJMn2weYIrKKshmMoGR4qQEIvnZIIQ0CnXffrkX-i0N2asMYHH2NlB6OZ_uOgL-Q-6ZJhsg98NsYTWOVRzMHC5ENfz7KnKpe_4WyUMnAk3RIFydvXI-dPTD-9tjSoApFfAaGa/s1600-h/20090405_5911.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321589977699973746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznZoTJMn2weYIrKKshmMoGR4qQEIvnZIIQ0CnXffrkX-i0N2asMYHH2NlB6OZ_uOgL-Q-6ZJhsg98NsYTWOVRzMHC5ENfz7KnKpe_4WyUMnAk3RIFydvXI-dPTD-9tjSoApFfAaGa/s400/20090405_5911.JPG" border="0" /></a> These are the signs that my marathon has begun. Bud Break. And this year, all the trees have leaves at the same time! It's such a relief to see things progress on track.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsV8iaFCTRgE8CvBpYMhr4SXJanJ9ZSx5up0ETwKLwyjs1NFdNJ-o5QFlzgSy71ECXb2GSUD2yeNzucRzPs2ZN_PpoYGRY_8XQFodWwhcHg-mu0tb9YAHSESBDIAeSerShTNyw5N8q/s1600-h/20090405_5896.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321588249868595682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsV8iaFCTRgE8CvBpYMhr4SXJanJ9ZSx5up0ETwKLwyjs1NFdNJ-o5QFlzgSy71ECXb2GSUD2yeNzucRzPs2ZN_PpoYGRY_8XQFodWwhcHg-mu0tb9YAHSESBDIAeSerShTNyw5N8q/s400/20090405_5896.JPG" border="0" /></a> And catkins! Lots of catkins. We have them everywhere! Another relief. Last year, I had a whole variety... you know who you are... that didn't produce catkins. No catkins. No nuts.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xXRERuI2_R03LUjcWvM3FOLWc4meSG1BjlFLkr3RlsbZM8bOxa8ZPfEA_Jbix4f8YjtTcBHHFktt1GWwAokyqJfmMIQ8R63maVp2hr1Gjd6MZQ_JFDFU6AneybMyTe0ZFiJR3g0r/s1600-h/20090405_5903.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321586405917863010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xXRERuI2_R03LUjcWvM3FOLWc4meSG1BjlFLkr3RlsbZM8bOxa8ZPfEA_Jbix4f8YjtTcBHHFktt1GWwAokyqJfmMIQ8R63maVp2hr1Gjd6MZQ_JFDFU6AneybMyTe0ZFiJR3g0r/s400/20090405_5903.JPG" border="0" /></a> Not this year. We have catkins everywhere. Look at these big fat beautiful catkins! They'll make some good nuts!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp3HexR3rhL70mFaZvG60_VSeXFYEjpnlN2_2EN5mb4Tb-abLiSo8p1L0O78LC5mTJfWnahbjJ0G4uv8ca3wHYbKqyfcox9z3sN357Itne43oG9ihrX0Y8yjzlW4kerPz6D87lHcks/s1600-h/20090405_5898.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321584639523925714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp3HexR3rhL70mFaZvG60_VSeXFYEjpnlN2_2EN5mb4Tb-abLiSo8p1L0O78LC5mTJfWnahbjJ0G4uv8ca3wHYbKqyfcox9z3sN357Itne43oG9ihrX0Y8yjzlW4kerPz6D87lHcks/s400/20090405_5898.JPG" border="0" /></a> Yesterday, the boys and I set up the traps. I am part of a <a href="http://pecankernel.tamu.edu/">research group</a> that tracks the movement of "the enemy," the pecan nut <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">casebearer</span>, across the state. I'm one of the more southern orchards, so they hit me first. I'm honored to be a part of this program. But more than that, <em>they</em> help <em>me</em>. They let me know it's time to spray. The Great Pecan Man goes out everyday and <em>hunts</em> for bugs on the tree. That's what the professionals do. Us rookies need a little more guidance. So thanks to the folks at Texas A&M (WHOOP!), I get free traps and they tell me what I need to be doing. It's a win-win, I think!</div><div> </div><div>They send me these funny looking cone things to place in the middle of that grid. The grid is EXTREMELY sticky. So the bad guys go <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">flyin</span>' in there to see what that smell is and they get stuck on that goo.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0erzQWySBiiKdhkjfIAgheGJEQLYG2J8kX0dpVHBF6Zl27Z3Gwr9VqIY2sZSldhXGoq9FhE70GN3Iq_3_Ci42_AnhOcyuTpOH90EOPrxv7PNgLAUAiGafa_zurlfasOfzEYGmHpDM/s1600-h/20090405_5900.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321582200359187938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0erzQWySBiiKdhkjfIAgheGJEQLYG2J8kX0dpVHBF6Zl27Z3Gwr9VqIY2sZSldhXGoq9FhE70GN3Iq_3_Ci42_AnhOcyuTpOH90EOPrxv7PNgLAUAiGafa_zurlfasOfzEYGmHpDM/s400/20090405_5900.JPG" border="0" /></a> I hang the traps in the trees for the little guys. They fly right in and don't know what hit 'em! Then I go everyday and count how many I've caught. When I hit my peak, I wait 10 days and then hit 'em with the tough stuff. I kill them, their babies, their Mama's, their crazy uncles. No one is spared! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Mwah</span>, ha, ha!<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRwhrwWZCKcznejimG7Sbf8HsRAFEzWD-e8rj9fF8087qJ-h_IWVoFkR97T8wRaz0jRzCUXLe0Apbrr64ZjD-5pIhk2myzSiCefOm9qxlCiyTbWTUNu2kC3VHpLRHo-C0gqcYSJWf/s1600-h/20090405_5907.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321580219166428994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRwhrwWZCKcznejimG7Sbf8HsRAFEzWD-e8rj9fF8087qJ-h_IWVoFkR97T8wRaz0jRzCUXLe0Apbrr64ZjD-5pIhk2myzSiCefOm9qxlCiyTbWTUNu2kC3VHpLRHo-C0gqcYSJWf/s400/20090405_5907.JPG" border="0" /></a> So to all you Pecan Nut <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Casebearers</span> out there, come on in! The weather's fine! <div></div></div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-52367605190180308642009-04-04T14:59:00.004-05:002009-04-04T18:15:42.609-05:00What a Good Share-er<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGbKAeNieIbbfcM_-BAQFm0ZNQ4-KDqwNqx45hfv_oMd_Mg-SnNjp1kMHaAjXZ0EWykbRrph8sxuJar4XvXoevzdh7Oem5yXsBR72qNily0q1L2Od4DAwl38TtbC99rtwd6eUWF9Dd/s1600-h/20090310_5710.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320936531200901602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGbKAeNieIbbfcM_-BAQFm0ZNQ4-KDqwNqx45hfv_oMd_Mg-SnNjp1kMHaAjXZ0EWykbRrph8sxuJar4XvXoevzdh7Oem5yXsBR72qNily0q1L2Od4DAwl38TtbC99rtwd6eUWF9Dd/s400/20090310_5710.JPG" border="0" /></a> Bear had to eat lunch with us today. He had to sit in the chair, eat the food and drink the milk.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjapZ1CvYgwpSitRzepMwp0ASigjFL1PQI5TK2F2UrZM3w3W4GyYtE7zy4dH9dE9YJle5m3TX1i1z-R5Nvz92JUUQ822ZNad9BBALlEWuw7LvRnmF4BaMsKmFDxCzfKltUOvy2noVd_/s1600-h/20090310_5709.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320931003843444450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjapZ1CvYgwpSitRzepMwp0ASigjFL1PQI5TK2F2UrZM3w3W4GyYtE7zy4dH9dE9YJle5m3TX1i1z-R5Nvz92JUUQ822ZNad9BBALlEWuw7LvRnmF4BaMsKmFDxCzfKltUOvy2noVd_/s400/20090310_5709.JPG" border="0" /></a> Sometimes it's the simplest things that make us the happiest.<br /></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-50980439935566304562009-04-03T08:55:00.009-05:002009-04-03T13:25:22.065-05:00Experimenting in the OrchardDr. Pecan wants to try an experiment, and until lately, hasn't had any volunteers. Oh! Me! Pick me! Me! Over here! I love experiments! We'll do it!<br /><br />... what do you want me to do?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmlfbuEPgWm2kEWC5Scs9QRgkfYK02J1E0titOLfcleju9QvfUCSXikQqejVYif-OliOye21r3Bqh0dyz3oeI1Fmw8mh2CDurv7UvoIRYpaeCYGIDY2bl0x34SEtUWYIeEIFFXCQoD/s1600-h/20090328_5827.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320529138146522002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmlfbuEPgWm2kEWC5Scs9QRgkfYK02J1E0titOLfcleju9QvfUCSXikQqejVYif-OliOye21r3Bqh0dyz3oeI1Fmw8mh2CDurv7UvoIRYpaeCYGIDY2bl0x34SEtUWYIeEIFFXCQoD/s400/20090328_5827.JPG" border="0" /></a> Cut down trees? Huh? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hmmmm</span>. Well... now I can see why he hasn't had any volunteers.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIMOngdeXuoq3IpJqoBCfPXxxzf2mc4uwYgMVaAg9ADMyMCf-VY2kXoHNhFaoTkojG5tpenK4AUlMVq_9znCKWbTU1Cf6A_mVzZRqgT6wxCt_jAFi2M81M96dmkNei8EuOO9Pl1qN/s1600-h/20090328_5833.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320521437171959730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIMOngdeXuoq3IpJqoBCfPXxxzf2mc4uwYgMVaAg9ADMyMCf-VY2kXoHNhFaoTkojG5tpenK4AUlMVq_9znCKWbTU1Cf6A_mVzZRqgT6wxCt_jAFi2M81M96dmkNei8EuOO9Pl1qN/s400/20090328_5833.JPG" border="0" /></a> Dr. Pecan has an idea. He thinks that if we cut a pecan tree down to the ground, and let it grow a few sprouts, we'll be able to graft a new tree onto it as opposed to planting a brand new baby tree or trying to graft big limbs. Sounds like a plan. And I have LOTS of trees that are in the wrong place. I have a row of this with some of that in there. Or some of that with a little of this in there. I'd really like to see them all be the same variety as I walk down the row. So we're going to give it a try.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoCf3SJ0VPjQfU9ipD45QTaHPRBjEBq893gGzF2i9f6P1uxxrvX7Qi0sXcS3wY72tqc8HNXynQTxeImiArDs6zoAGiMtvACR_CmF7aKEhXaU0OvwG1-Y0ssRzrtYoz5H8yfCPORZi/s1600-h/20090328_5871.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320513960915968930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoCf3SJ0VPjQfU9ipD45QTaHPRBjEBq893gGzF2i9f6P1uxxrvX7Qi0sXcS3wY72tqc8HNXynQTxeImiArDs6zoAGiMtvACR_CmF7aKEhXaU0OvwG1-Y0ssRzrtYoz5H8yfCPORZi/s400/20090328_5871.JPG" border="0" /></a> The Nutty Papa is an expert at cutting down trees. He's cut a few in his time. He is an Aggie you know. He went to "cut" for bonfire. This is easier though. It's with a chainsaw. So he cut down 8 trees for us last weekend.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyQw1zkPy1wh9gmXqr0MwM4HLRcdnWKEbdTvFfcbkCrwFa8Zy_J7wM0fpAeQCVNeEAM61RDd1FgjN5wcs4RtCx2ZvX0FWrtm1T0T8Nn0tGs6RE2Gz-encUY_AEyOAD42VfjbFzY0x/s1600-h/20090328_5842.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320499061139897218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyQw1zkPy1wh9gmXqr0MwM4HLRcdnWKEbdTvFfcbkCrwFa8Zy_J7wM0fpAeQCVNeEAM61RDd1FgjN5wcs4RtCx2ZvX0FWrtm1T0T8Nn0tGs6RE2Gz-encUY_AEyOAD42VfjbFzY0x/s400/20090328_5842.JPG" border="0" /></a> He was closely supervised.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIpdMY2t-rMuwoBz7c3Zd-SzW-QxoClgWEpqTMoOwJLywJsL-C-M-tQKuhxx924G_rtnSUIeMoQhSvkpmruPpBJ5v9gZxHM3z6QzGrjjjW5d03B0YUJ_aGlyeOTGMSOZsnYNN93xp/s1600-h/20090328_5847.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320496190834725970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIpdMY2t-rMuwoBz7c3Zd-SzW-QxoClgWEpqTMoOwJLywJsL-C-M-tQKuhxx924G_rtnSUIeMoQhSvkpmruPpBJ5v9gZxHM3z6QzGrjjjW5d03B0YUJ_aGlyeOTGMSOZsnYNN93xp/s400/20090328_5847.JPG" border="0" /></a> And everyone did their part cleaning up the tree.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg85s6XPuDN-bKzGf8YkuZIDtOnuE0h_KZDIgAxRe37eXM0vB7R3pZC9VBQoDHF3_tzdkON4PEzmmFPwo-ZlZxs_7vgqkCyvQXG5a9Fx5-cC6Bh-xErg8cHXbGU4W5HiT9monRButF/s1600-h/20090328_5875.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320479711961233458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg85s6XPuDN-bKzGf8YkuZIDtOnuE0h_KZDIgAxRe37eXM0vB7R3pZC9VBQoDHF3_tzdkON4PEzmmFPwo-ZlZxs_7vgqkCyvQXG5a9Fx5-cC6Bh-xErg8cHXbGU4W5HiT9monRButF/s400/20090328_5875.JPG" border="0" /></a> Gulp. And here's what's left.<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDi7n9AIi0K9qM9gb6tmkErlhPR9PzoT4oqwCMvFvZaja_UGF9bWjJRRx4k9xDp1_rN-qUKGKeTD2IDuCvcaKbQveucEBAbclaP4lsgnGp3tcIEauGJIrziwv-A5fzsN_UA45uf9vg/s1600-h/20090328_5878.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320465612798690466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDi7n9AIi0K9qM9gb6tmkErlhPR9PzoT4oqwCMvFvZaja_UGF9bWjJRRx4k9xDp1_rN-qUKGKeTD2IDuCvcaKbQveucEBAbclaP4lsgnGp3tcIEauGJIrziwv-A5fzsN_UA45uf9vg/s400/20090328_5878.JPG" border="0" /></a> -sigh- I hope this works! <div></div></div></div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-15386468638933129662009-04-01T08:34:00.004-05:002009-04-01T09:20:40.914-05:00Broken DoodlebugWe have our second broken bone here in the Nutty Forest. The Doodlebug broke her collar bone. Well, she didn't actually break it herself. She had help. She and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Chojuk</span> were wresting on the trampoline and he fell on her. SNAP! It broke.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6XezplppBQ46_2tvuZx2n2XYwgbVZYHFn2ef2-n7PsoGA0bTcesW47VQOFgfmao9gxvCC5A5OTVaNW6SWdhjSzJV05le31BCA4SpiMjQbhUQv_cm0-1ilaKMBvBcH0hV4kDXH_yS/s1600-h/20090331_5889.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319726110435799426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6XezplppBQ46_2tvuZx2n2XYwgbVZYHFn2ef2-n7PsoGA0bTcesW47VQOFgfmao9gxvCC5A5OTVaNW6SWdhjSzJV05le31BCA4SpiMjQbhUQv_cm0-1ilaKMBvBcH0hV4kDXH_yS/s400/20090331_5889.JPG" border="0" /></a> She's tough as nails though. She cried about it hurting for a while. Said it was her elbow that hurt. She couldn't point out where it hurt just that it did. So we took her in for X-rays and sure enough, it's a "green break." A green break is like a green twig trying to break. It bends as far as it can and then splits. It doesn't really snap in half. The doctors assure me that she'll be healed in 3 weeks. She'll still have the bone sticking out of her shoulder/neck area. (You can see it in the picture.) The Orthopedic surgeon said she'd repair it herself as she grew. I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">especially</span> concerned about prom. "Will she have this funky bump sticking out of her when we are shopping for dresses?" Nope. She'll be good as new by then. The bump will take time to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">straighten</span> out.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4fsJq7yD0Tbq24nSbAB2OypOZveiyYb3Ot2lEN0O_y7EFK5UXf524ha0p1x6k7fQYBHzb9taH2CYbEq3VX_LsgdfvpCUJBw4ykoVANTwto_TD_uy92LwOBmllrl5xabnCGEt4WMH/s1600-h/20090331_5893.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319724640320940066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4fsJq7yD0Tbq24nSbAB2OypOZveiyYb3Ot2lEN0O_y7EFK5UXf524ha0p1x6k7fQYBHzb9taH2CYbEq3VX_LsgdfvpCUJBw4ykoVANTwto_TD_uy92LwOBmllrl5xabnCGEt4WMH/s400/20090331_5893.JPG" border="0" /></a> In the meantime, she's getting lots of TLC.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCaj1rGieEuGIqBr3PLdcgs7wF4ERpJBB9BDT7GOrhyDvohJXWaaxe45_TsTfyEWOG5yjj5qqQqPh9P06NjeMpREvEdIePGzIwi6dM7psZiry4w4ma3PL3PffbMtG0iRfzCi3ZErd/s1600-h/20090323_5788.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319722665076311602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCaj1rGieEuGIqBr3PLdcgs7wF4ERpJBB9BDT7GOrhyDvohJXWaaxe45_TsTfyEWOG5yjj5qqQqPh9P06NjeMpREvEdIePGzIwi6dM7psZiry4w4ma3PL3PffbMtG0iRfzCi3ZErd/s400/20090323_5788.JPG" border="0" /></a> Daddy's little princess.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGC9D8WHKm4EFE9wNZ3e5cJmCPZuAkzO_titZjP0ypdUol_wh3Qc-fZkUYzf1UFujcq4bdlBjwyRZYMakB4c0TCQJoazaO4_c_quK5FFLtmtPqPKtbZMLKwqBI5jnAkQdmg-dzQJ6b/s1600-h/20090323_5787.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319721508101940130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGC9D8WHKm4EFE9wNZ3e5cJmCPZuAkzO_titZjP0ypdUol_wh3Qc-fZkUYzf1UFujcq4bdlBjwyRZYMakB4c0TCQJoazaO4_c_quK5FFLtmtPqPKtbZMLKwqBI5jnAkQdmg-dzQJ6b/s400/20090323_5787.JPG" border="0" /></a> And she's still dancing too. This is tutu day at the dance studio. They have a recital coming up and this is her costume. She's so excited! Hope you can all make it!</div><br /></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958430707759746519.post-45035023243314207232009-03-31T12:33:00.006-05:002009-03-31T14:06:50.174-05:00Showing Bigger AnimalsOur other cousin, Justin, showed Carl the goat at the Livestock show. I'm not so sure about bigger animals. As far as I'm concerned, anything you can't pick up and lob around might just be too big.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxv-3pnlAY-fWxU4iT4soDSCXlN25m7UGH7rrog3RKkcAGxwXUwJ5_modiuWZeD6vkdpyCYRSDZ1IdVd339dT3Fl6yUUP53VAtM2PzC99Vxkvnz7DZylkzFprwmghwp5nINqpYvid/s1600-h/20090318_5747.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319426036673924530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxv-3pnlAY-fWxU4iT4soDSCXlN25m7UGH7rrog3RKkcAGxwXUwJ5_modiuWZeD6vkdpyCYRSDZ1IdVd339dT3Fl6yUUP53VAtM2PzC99Vxkvnz7DZylkzFprwmghwp5nINqpYvid/s400/20090318_5747.JPG" border="0" /></a> Carl the goat was a big fella. He was at the top of his weight class. He was a big guy.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdYsCpj5Vivk52CjCEuRbnxPVoFm_iycosriKt0Rt9w8xRxLdgcMjjEDF2jj87WLuyw-eQcx0o9_K_lyij2A3no6XJGdgHmO8Z_p5nLg8qjYNTlSksAAeCQYIDKzLesFYidJIf5wh/s1600-h/20090318_5750.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319421095438289618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdYsCpj5Vivk52CjCEuRbnxPVoFm_iycosriKt0Rt9w8xRxLdgcMjjEDF2jj87WLuyw-eQcx0o9_K_lyij2A3no6XJGdgHmO8Z_p5nLg8qjYNTlSksAAeCQYIDKzLesFYidJIf5wh/s400/20090318_5750.JPG" border="0" /></a> And with big guys like this, I'm not sure who's showing who.</div><div> </div><div>Just did a great job. I was so proud of him. He got 9<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span>, I think. He raised a great goat and worked hard.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEify1vULWbzsPtry8T7h6qIyYVNCoi6B4RTxAO78t9v9Z1MivvO6i8E2uebdHE6Do_CvtGaqoPBgkw-7Q0sX0UNAtZt7LB3SvA9hA-Op1xxIkl9rj1oTXhq9WSSltUCVNfCnPLynzId/s1600-h/20090318_5760.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319416278052269442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEify1vULWbzsPtry8T7h6qIyYVNCoi6B4RTxAO78t9v9Z1MivvO6i8E2uebdHE6Do_CvtGaqoPBgkw-7Q0sX0UNAtZt7LB3SvA9hA-Op1xxIkl9rj1oTXhq9WSSltUCVNfCnPLynzId/s400/20090318_5760.JPG" border="0" /></a> The livestock show is really all about the rides. After showing the animals, my sister-in-law, brother-in-law and I decided to divide and conquer. My brother-in-law took the boys to the big rides. I went with the Doodlebug. She needs one adult to watch only her. The Baby enjoyed the view from the cheap seat... my back.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6fIo0NP3xhv2W2Gr8TU9cavPUtzmCCR8rPtCB6OquAKEDhhno8BD8vI9SklemnQ3OI_6M8BKHas86VUbMZ-y3yU_DtixAsLFF1bg1V0q4lyhIX4ZORLCm1U0khRWW19PKkQ9Nkz3/s1600-h/20090318_5786.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319409987986589106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6fIo0NP3xhv2W2Gr8TU9cavPUtzmCCR8rPtCB6OquAKEDhhno8BD8vI9SklemnQ3OI_6M8BKHas86VUbMZ-y3yU_DtixAsLFF1bg1V0q4lyhIX4ZORLCm1U0khRWW19PKkQ9Nkz3/s400/20090318_5786.JPG" border="0" /></a> We met up with the boys for one last ride. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Snugglebug</span> went on this one while <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Chojuk</span> rode the Spaceship 2000. It was a great visit with our cousins! Can't wait until next year!</div></div></div>The Nutty Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09723909223639186424noreply@blogger.com0