tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16110850511730172442024-03-13T22:27:26.171-07:00Rebekah's Web LogDesultory Thoughts, Singular AdventuresRebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-25833383815240748972014-01-30T09:26:00.000-08:002014-01-30T09:26:03.450-08:00Web Log Interrupted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We have used this beautiful brass censer filled with real Frankincense and Myrrh incense to bless our home with the <a href="http://www.catholicculture.org/culture/liturgicalyear/prayers/view.cfm?id=49" target="_blank">Blessings of the Three Kings</a> every Epiphany since Peter and Jude were toddlers. The dried pine branch is from our Christmas tree, and the children each take a sprig and dip it in Holy water as we travel throughout our home, bringing the sweet, silky smoke and the little Holy droplets to each room. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This is one of the Family Es' too few ceremonies we cling to heavily; God's grace is palpable through these simple acts and the years gone by are less of a muddle of memory, as each is attached to the particular feel of a setting: what house were we in? who was a baby? who got to put the chalk inscription above the door that year (well, it's always Jude because some things must stay the same). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This year Epiphany Sunday was the first full day we lived under our new roof, what a providential way to welcome God into our new home! Well one thing happened, and then another, and most of all exhaustion happened until the day had come and gone with no blessing. No matter. Next day will be better. But Obi was travelling. No matter we'll wait.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Well, we're still waiting. It's been a rough go of it, whodda thunk? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So many changes in our family in this past year. So much growing our family has done. But I feel like with all this changing and growing I haven't exactly stepped up my game. I feel like the little one with a blanky I won't let go of and a thumb in my mouth, toddling along and stopping every once in awhile to ask aloud to no one in particular, "Where am I going again?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That little one doesn't make a very good mama, even I can see that. I need to concentrate on this crazy home and these crazy people here which means laying aside for awhile all the distractions I love so much (which means I just may never beat all the free levels of Candy Crush or see the second season of Sherlock). I need to be quiet for awhile and remember who I am and where I'm going.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Allora, Dear Web Log, I need to put you aside for awhile, too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Promise you won't forget me? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'll be right back!</span></div>
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Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-32314477837955177252014-01-23T06:08:00.000-08:002014-01-23T06:08:00.189-08:00Catching People Unawares<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Joseph!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">"What?!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"I love you!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Love you too, Goodbye."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That was me catching Joseph unaware (as per <a href="http://clan-donaldson.com/2014/01/theme-thursday-catching-people-unawares/" target="_blank">Theme Thursday with Clan Donaldson</a>) this morning as he walked off to school. My little darling. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As some of you fine perusers of the Web Log may recall I was homeschooling Joseph this last semester. We had a brilliant time. We had a horrible time. All at the same time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For this moment, he is better in a place that gives him lots of projects, lots of approval, lot of structure, mainly. And that, unfortunately, was not at home with me. My little darling, gift of a Loving God. Maybe I'll tell a little more of his story another day, because all stories are fascinating, no matter how small.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And guess what? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's time to vote for the "Best of" awards with <a href="http://www.aknottedlife.com/2014/01/2014-sheenazing-awards.html" target="_blank">Bonnie at A Knotted Life</a>. And someone, somewhere out there, has nominated <i style="font-weight: bold;">The </i>Rebekah Es as Coolest Blogger! How cool is that! Channeling my inner Benedict Cumberbatch I have deduced that whomever nominated me has only ever read one blog in their lifetime, so, thanks Aunt Esther, it's an honor! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But honestly, these awards are a great way to discover so many great Catholic Blogs, so check them all out, and I am so proud to be listed among them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-82345014093414137792014-01-22T08:34:00.001-08:002014-01-22T08:34:15.653-08:00Sick Day - Sick Month<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkVAT1cEfUqqLG4A1WjRcaEXPYY6-pSsarXYgVwY8ehI50TQ6zUF5iqJwx4g9ikah0H-QGM33B9xSeixPDwEfzOlbVUwF6Xjw83FKPKDY1Hz4WRMlPcF81dG4dAtcdPr7f3qUwmQkgYQ/s1600/IMGP5602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkVAT1cEfUqqLG4A1WjRcaEXPYY6-pSsarXYgVwY8ehI50TQ6zUF5iqJwx4g9ikah0H-QGM33B9xSeixPDwEfzOlbVUwF6Xjw83FKPKDY1Hz4WRMlPcF81dG4dAtcdPr7f3qUwmQkgYQ/s1600/IMGP5602.JPG" height="422" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Phineas and Ferb is great medicine.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I don't want to blame anyone...but facts are facts. A few days before Christmas I got a text from <a href="http://mjmdesign.us/artists-statement/" target="_blank">my lovely and talented sis-in-law Missy</a> who lives in the great winter wonderland of Michigan, asking if we tended to stay well during the winter months, or fall prey to repeated sicknesses like the rest of the country. I think I responded smugly that, "Yeah, we are all just soaking in sun drenched happiness here with nary a runny nose or even a cold sore in sight. Sorry for your bad weather up there!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And just like that, KABOOM! Or should I say KACOUGH! We have not had a single day of complete health for the Family Es since that text was sent. Since before Christmas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">With eight of us, and from what I can figure, three different sicknesses, someone has been sick every single day for a month now. I kept AnneMarie home yesterday and today with her third run of fever. The doctor and his boat payment love us. And the pharmacy, and Kleenex Co. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">On the bright side, Isaac is loving it. AnneMarie totally excels at creative use of the beanbag. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCz1jHpg29ob-SdS2SauqQNQxu567nkfE1ycNf8eP3mA5dtY63z2ZydSJtUlg4M3iF9u-vrM4ougTI1S__fK8xi_vVOB7p_-9H5khEo8UxscL5OC4C2fuyVgAgCj_9_1CfecgYfCAefkE/s1600/IMGP5598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCz1jHpg29ob-SdS2SauqQNQxu567nkfE1ycNf8eP3mA5dtY63z2ZydSJtUlg4M3iF9u-vrM4ougTI1S__fK8xi_vVOB7p_-9H5khEo8UxscL5OC4C2fuyVgAgCj_9_1CfecgYfCAefkE/s1600/IMGP5598.JPG" height="640" width="422" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And a major benefit of the move is that we rediscovered one of our most prized possessions: our Popeye Snuggie. Really. Absolutely perfect for two small children aloft a double stacked beanbag sculpture while watching Phineas and Ferb.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-YAq9IwJpw9xLBUh74eRK1ItB33wsflIqYpUjaBnghlN9lAoo6ZJv89_x_qHlgbw0ZXyj4DLnk977zDEhe30P06_t7aznHb4KP-oy0q9Z6aE0QQ0v-DflRqr3bmZcxk4GVEqhlV6uco/s1600/IMGP5606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-YAq9IwJpw9xLBUh74eRK1ItB33wsflIqYpUjaBnghlN9lAoo6ZJv89_x_qHlgbw0ZXyj4DLnk977zDEhe30P06_t7aznHb4KP-oy0q9Z6aE0QQ0v-DflRqr3bmZcxk4GVEqhlV6uco/s1600/IMGP5606.JPG" height="640" width="422" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That Momo look of perfect concentration shared by<br />Obi and Joseph. Why can't I get that look?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Meanwhile, Momo sensed a "stay at home free card" yesterday when AnneMarie's fever spiked and woke up yesterday morning with a "sore throat." Hmmm... So she spent her day doing this. What? I don't actually know what she was doing, other than experimenting with stripes and polka dots, she made an amazing cardboard castle than <b><i>never really worked out to her satisfaction!!!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Fortunately for Momo, AnneMarie also excels in the art of Blanket Fort. That's not a mess, that's a masterpiece.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Happy girl, too bad about the, uh, sore throat thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This morning Naomi was banished from the realm of stay-at-home fun as no physical evidence of her ailment could be detected, leaving Isaac and AnneMarie up to their own devices. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">When Isaac was asked what he would like to do today he responded with a shrug, "I don't know, shoot zombies."</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This post sponsored by the "Don't Potty Train your Toddler"<br />Movement and by Luvs, size 5</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Sounds good. Maybe I'll even get him dressed after they are all dead, or wait, they are already dead. Wounded? I don't know zombie-duplo rules. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And as the pictures attest, yes, we are still moving in. What does that even mean? We live here. From what I can tell we will be moving in for the rest of our lives, just moving in and shooting zombies and fighting sicknesses. </span><br />
<br />Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-83492110144474500172014-01-17T07:55:00.000-08:002014-01-17T07:55:07.967-08:00As Seen On Estero Island<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">All week I have been going back to the Beach House to pack odds and ends and clean this and that. So strange to walk into that empty clean house that was our home and see how easily the familiar and ordinary transforms into a place only of memories, suspended in the past. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Have I shown you much of the island itself, Dear Web Log? I don't think so, not much of it. The new house is only about 8 miles away, yet a vast 8 miles, distanced by an estuary that defines that little strip of land off Southwest Florida as an island, specifically, Estero Island, a little bit of Paradise, really. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here are some shots that were part of the everyday lives of the Family Es, appropriately, as seen from my car window, kid-taken, mother-approved. Enjoy!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Coming over the bridge in the morning, the little tourist town opens up. At the bottom of this bridge is the main tourist hangout, with shops, restaurants, and of course, the public beach and docks.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiROeHb-8kw3wG6ZOecTvgcEcPsFVCDc4_JHyzP8CF4glF5gvwRFslkvBcobXi2jbAvR-H_KcKbyQQ21mk8GPYVdnkHc5skjuClqHT_6QsxJyQJ1LhtQzACmgzOK2uCyycf4cZHl6iCmE/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiROeHb-8kw3wG6ZOecTvgcEcPsFVCDc4_JHyzP8CF4glF5gvwRFslkvBcobXi2jbAvR-H_KcKbyQQ21mk8GPYVdnkHc5skjuClqHT_6QsxJyQJ1LhtQzACmgzOK2uCyycf4cZHl6iCmE/s1600/Awesomized" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Public beach, deserted in the mornings.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUhg_Kp_FMX3wm6uiDU5UxSCx93UtWaVbfx4buOppC3FEjqdc-SoedFEfvEjJlimX4yr6N3y_bZKAmPfwSorHnQYLUXvUw7LF1-d9qpX3p0aXi3LDCrCQwYnNQFznmJ3l7BNw0w_APwYg/s1600/artist+photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUhg_Kp_FMX3wm6uiDU5UxSCx93UtWaVbfx4buOppC3FEjqdc-SoedFEfvEjJlimX4yr6N3y_bZKAmPfwSorHnQYLUXvUw7LF1-d9qpX3p0aXi3LDCrCQwYnNQFznmJ3l7BNw0w_APwYg/s1600/artist+photo.JPG" height="640" width="528" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This guy. Every single day he sets up his little artist camp here, beret and all. Wish we could get a better shot, but we would be far, far too embarrassed! It was hard enough to snap a pic from the safety of the minivan! He is a caricaturist, and his sign reads that he sketches children for free. I think I am afraid to see what cartoon versions of my kids would look like, the real things are goofy enough.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzhYF1g4DKlUTIt0g23wCwPKvj6vVvMfiHj2fw-2DNeaNqxE_Fgln5L-EdyiWgDttmRZ79oxSYrs9ZRx0Hymsc1EEoYbQ0s3YDdEsqRe82lFI1z5J8tEUwcHxdjqTwB5Pv-j-JpfIDlA/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzhYF1g4DKlUTIt0g23wCwPKvj6vVvMfiHj2fw-2DNeaNqxE_Fgln5L-EdyiWgDttmRZ79oxSYrs9ZRx0Hymsc1EEoYbQ0s3YDdEsqRe82lFI1z5J8tEUwcHxdjqTwB5Pv-j-JpfIDlA/s1600/Awesomized" height="582" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Obligatory Yo! Taco shot. The sometime employer of the Teens of Es.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Once you pass the main strip, it's beach cottages, beach cottages, beach cottages. I love this little one above. So quaint. This is one of the last of its kind, and is just next door to this: </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvcRygIgjI9cQJRRe_Q_lO-dz2quAuwKIjIDMsyWaLx7-td-YmL0K-wDX_A_WUBNBlOhGh3QyafL2tF2rPtD6cRpjZnhErQCyEFxK1CZFmIK-hI6OeZt1skcF7C_ZsILH7OoXqLxqewQo/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvcRygIgjI9cQJRRe_Q_lO-dz2quAuwKIjIDMsyWaLx7-td-YmL0K-wDX_A_WUBNBlOhGh3QyafL2tF2rPtD6cRpjZnhErQCyEFxK1CZFmIK-hI6OeZt1skcF7C_ZsILH7OoXqLxqewQo/s1600/Awesomized" height="640" width="528" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">These huge homes will soon be all that is left on the island. Progress and whatnot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We will visit the beach often enough, especially since the girls are still in school there, but check out these funny little things on our street, after we close the door the final time on the Beach House, we probably won't venture down again. These are typical of Estero Island in general, but all unique, and these are what make our street our street:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrJMThN07ly0f-MvAiKrafpwuyq8MJqxSkTqE5LBCUyM_EdZWgUfUpM4XO0m6Efhk2KQfPzdZn43Rb379-YG9KNuT4IHvH8kClco1n-WiOZ1tEzTgWN1WUGArxoqr5tjtGaCfdgUbfDg/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrJMThN07ly0f-MvAiKrafpwuyq8MJqxSkTqE5LBCUyM_EdZWgUfUpM4XO0m6Efhk2KQfPzdZn43Rb379-YG9KNuT4IHvH8kClco1n-WiOZ1tEzTgWN1WUGArxoqr5tjtGaCfdgUbfDg/s1600/Awesomized" height="640" width="570" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There are a bunch of carvings like this in people's yards, this weathered fisherman is one of my favorite.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrbd2WN0yVf-liUta49coZgagR9T0ByyWtdjZRmPIvxHjSerDpPsrbfNTfPT8CrLjBKvyY4VuqseFhd9EYmaObu0ftvKfIhvT-9I5Cg6FwQ_CAyMAqvw0_1Kr_AZKv3bNrUiV3zQOCys/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrbd2WN0yVf-liUta49coZgagR9T0ByyWtdjZRmPIvxHjSerDpPsrbfNTfPT8CrLjBKvyY4VuqseFhd9EYmaObu0ftvKfIhvT-9I5Cg6FwQ_CAyMAqvw0_1Kr_AZKv3bNrUiV3zQOCys/s1600/Awesomized" height="640" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh! And this guy. Me and him, memories, memories.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxR3N8PPPLVKNVRam1IEa3-lr9vzSYUjBQddw_i9GEnK_iE9g-N89sRF_oJNgPkE5mPXPawexbIVfLBK43UWLI-ESGZSFI3MjW0nJgZPz2vFb7oDZUrpgGxObV3MzN051N6Q8dVNaAos/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxR3N8PPPLVKNVRam1IEa3-lr9vzSYUjBQddw_i9GEnK_iE9g-N89sRF_oJNgPkE5mPXPawexbIVfLBK43UWLI-ESGZSFI3MjW0nJgZPz2vFb7oDZUrpgGxObV3MzN051N6Q8dVNaAos/s1600/Awesomized" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And of course all kinds of incredible plant life. I love this little tree, holding on for dear life, gripping its roots like talons into this barren rock, begging for just enough nutrients for survival, and somehow getting them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I wish I could get a better shot of this. Every time I turned onto our street, I saw this ficus and this palm, at war or in love? I don't know. Is the ficus trying to pull up the palm and yank it away, hurling it into the sky, or has it wrapped and twined itself around the unfeeling palm in an attempt to win it over, or just show it some attention for once!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Maybe I get a little dramatic about the trees.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4PxyZexICwSS2IW6tEkvhVx2zQ-lqt5xdJkgEVmittqlpgrFzeoLqdkI9KICwbN68VEQgB6n3lSG46xqDyY1jeX24rysWj_kopgi6hm9p-m2rSMKOnJvYQgEHvVVFN1oE3oG0UKHmrrM/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4PxyZexICwSS2IW6tEkvhVx2zQ-lqt5xdJkgEVmittqlpgrFzeoLqdkI9KICwbN68VEQgB6n3lSG46xqDyY1jeX24rysWj_kopgi6hm9p-m2rSMKOnJvYQgEHvVVFN1oE3oG0UKHmrrM/s1600/Awesomized" height="640" width="422" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Behind this plant conundrum is a tall, tall evergreen, I always forget what they are called, some kind of pine. But they are tall and thin and their tippy-tops are just perfect for osprey nests. Do you see him up there? We have so loved watching him and his wife hunt the fish and the snakes, bringing them back for their noisy, greedy children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And that is all we had time to take, all the shots we could get. I am already thinking of so many monuments I wish we had captured. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But do you want to see what it looks like driving back over the bridge as the sun rises? Quite spectacular. The geography is such that the sun sets straight into the Gulf with spectacular pinkness every evening, but it rises over the estuary, where the anchored sailboats melt in its orange freshness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The girls both know kids who live permanently in sailboats parked just here. What a life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Goodbye, Estero Island, goodbye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>*OH! Public Service Announcement to all moms with boys! Please check out <a href="http://9peasmom.blogspot.com/2014/01/mothering-boys-humor-is-key-ingredient.html" target="_blank">Kathy's (9 Peas Mom) brilliant and surprising insight into raising boys, in this post here!</a>*</b></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-67952297043496561682014-01-11T07:16:00.001-08:002014-01-11T07:16:51.197-08:00Seven Quick Phone Takes<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">1. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Joining <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/2014/01/7-quick-takes-about-fitbit-couch-rejection-and-an-important-lesson-about-letting-your-spouse-know-if-you-leave-pipe-valves-open.html" target="_blank">Jen from my phone for some quick takes</a> while waiting in the school parking lot for the girls to come out, while Isaac naps sweatily. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">2.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The move went this weekend. That's all I would like to say, no adverbs necessary. We still have a few miscellaneous piles at the Beach House (read: a bunch of junk we don't actually care about but for some reason still feel obliged to possess) that are lingering in joyful anticipation of someday joining the junk we actually care about. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh geez, now I feel sorry for that left behind junk. Sit tight middle school yearbooks and 1950's waffle iron, I'm coming to get you!!!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Nd9GD0xT9UM/UtFaj1cWz9I/AAAAAAAASS0/wuLwtUK9odU/s1600/2014-01-11" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Nd9GD0xT9UM/UtFaj1cWz9I/AAAAAAAASS0/wuLwtUK9odU/s1600/2014-01-11" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Obi with the last UHaul load.<br />Perhaps not his best look.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">3. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The kids were helpful with the move as per usual. Obi and I probably yelled at them encouragingly a little too much, woe is them. But not one of the six of them even mentioned that we not only spoiled their summer vacation with a move, but also their winter break. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh geez, now I'm feeling sorry for my kids! This is a horrible quick takes!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v7Pf2aKorDM/UtFaZw8BKhI/AAAAAAAASSQ/Z4nBBTDO1Ug/s1600/2014-01-11" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v7Pf2aKorDM/UtFaZw8BKhI/AAAAAAAASSQ/Z4nBBTDO1Ug/s1600/2014-01-11" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jude at his most helpful moment.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">4.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We traded the Gulf of Mexico for a pool and the greatest disappointment so far is that we were working too hard and then it was too cold (I'm talking high 60's people!) to swim yet. Woe, woe is my children!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WtcXY8BruMc/UtFavQTWUrI/AAAAAAAASTY/YyyegJHnVso/s1600/2014-01-11" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WtcXY8BruMc/UtFavQTWUrI/AAAAAAAASTY/YyyegJHnVso/s1600/2014-01-11" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Woe is Isaac.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">5.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The new house backs up to some tennis courts and the greatest treat is that every day we find new (free!!!) balls in our yard. Isaac gets so excited and I'm telling you, it's like an Easter egg hunt every day around here!</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--Mhtzg03xi0/UtFa4-pjrVI/AAAAAAAAST8/SXJZKlClMPU/s1600/2014-01-11" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--Mhtzg03xi0/UtFa4-pjrVI/AAAAAAAAST8/SXJZKlClMPU/s1600/2014-01-11" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And did you see that this yard has the most ginormous leaves known to mankind! They have already had a thrill playing slave and fanning each other with them. What, that's normal.</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XnOcS6KxgnY/UtFbDH5bUQI/AAAAAAAASUg/JkRNvhGa6Jg/s1600/2014-01-11" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XnOcS6KxgnY/UtFbDH5bUQI/AAAAAAAASUg/JkRNvhGa6Jg/s1600/2014-01-11" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">7. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">On the trouble in paradise front, our bathroom is stinking to high heaven from what I thought was a stray poopie diaper hidden behind the moving boxes. Wrong. All boxes cleared, stench stronger than ever, dead animal in the attic. That just happens to be in the only, tiny, inaccessible portion if the attic. Looks like we are going to have to cut out the drywall in the ceiling to get to the rotting corpse and replace everything therein it touched. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Which sounds like good weekend plans, I dare you to come up with better!</span><br />
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Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405354417859464849noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-75033162435504641022014-01-02T14:56:00.000-08:002014-01-02T14:56:03.817-08:00One of a Series of Last Hoorahs: PHFR, TT<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I have been away from the computer for so long I'm not sure I still know how to type, or upload thousands of photos, or bore the internet with my ramblings, but I'll do my best, like I always do! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We have been mentally preparing for our move that happens, oh, tomorrow???!!!???, visiting with Obi's parents, and all being sick as dogs (which I have never noticed to be particularly sick). And still trying to get in some beach time, so of course, here we go: Like Mother Like Daughter's Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real [which I just discovered was cancelled this week, but I'm doing anyway because I'm a rogue]; and <a href="http://clan-donaldson.com/2014/01/theme-thursday/" target="_blank">Cari's Theme Thursday: Ridiculous!</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Pretty, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>~Happy~</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Happiness is reading a new comic in the sun...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Building sand castles...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Or just being Isaac...in a good mood.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>~Funny~</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They spent the longest time building intricate drip castles with Grandma Judy just to watch the tide come in and collapse them from beneath. Soothing and beautiful. And funny.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>~Real~</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Are we really moving tomorrow and leaving this behind? Is this real?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And Theme Thursday: Ridiculous</span></div>
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Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-9881819284580274002013-12-26T12:57:00.000-08:002013-12-26T12:57:13.337-08:00Joyous Christmas Mess- Theme Thursday<div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The thrill of anticipation...</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...And the mess...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Blessed mess. <a href="http://clan-donaldson.com/" target="_blank">It's Theme Thursday: Mess! Cari is a riot. </a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A Merry, merry Christmas from our family to yours!</span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-11310014900063577572013-12-19T05:44:00.001-08:002013-12-19T05:44:36.277-08:00Momo: Dreaming Theme Thursday<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's <a href="http://clan-donaldson.com/" target="_blank">Theme Thursday with Clan Donaldson, Dreaming!</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In the early morning hours Momo crept into our bed, scared out of her own by a bad dream. I asked her what it was all about and it turns out her personality is just as cute in her nightmares.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I took these of her waking up this morning, much happier:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Me: What was your bad dream about?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Momo: Monsters. Sometimes there are bad unicorns that act nice but they are really mean. They don't give you any wishes. They are black unicorns.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Me: What do you wish for?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Momo: I wish for a mansion that is twelve stories that is a house where I would live. And I wish for no more monsters. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Me: What does he do when you tell him your wish?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Momo: He just laughs and goes away and then I wake up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...And that's when she comes in our bed. To flee the horrible black unicorn that listens to your wishes and laughs in your face. I have to admit I'm glad he didn't grant her the twelve story mansion. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-50427866573647792812013-12-18T06:45:00.000-08:002013-12-18T08:37:41.337-08:00Jane Eyre Nightmare: WWRW<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Did I just dream all that or did I just read two contemporary takes on <i>Jane Eyre </i>that completely sucked all the metaphorical oxygen out of the literary air that is my "me time" and left me croaking an insane maniacal sob a la Bertha Mason?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's <a href="http://www.housewifespice.com/2013/12/wwrw-paraphrased-review-from-patrick.html" target="_blank">What We're Reading Wednesday with Housewife Spice!</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">No, that was no nightmare. Peter listened to an audio version of <i>Jane Eyre </i>for his summer reading and although I've read it several times I couldn't help but stop sweeping up the endless sand that is our home and listen in to the good parts. Which got me feeling all nostalgic, so while browsing through Kindle titles I happened upon these two and hit purchase:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">The Eyre Affair </i>by Jasper Fforde. I couldn't say it better myself, so stolen from the Amazon page of this title:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px;">Fans of Douglas Adams and P. G. Wodehouse will love visiting Jasper Fforde's Great Britain, circa 1985, when time travel is routine, cloning is a reality (dodos are the resurrected pet of choice), and literature is taken very, very seriously: it’s a bibliophile’s dream.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My first taste of what is called "alternate history," this Britain of 1985 is far different from our own. The major historical difference being that the Crimean War which in our world lasted from 1853-1856, is still very much in full swing. Thursday Next (yes, that is her name) is a veteran of that war and is sorting out her war memories and love life as she works as a Literary Detective. Meaning she is part of an enormous government run program that that investigates all sorts of crimes against literature. The excitement comes when one of the many wacky inventions available at that time, a device capable of slinging real humans into the actual world of works of literature, gets into the wrong hands. The bad guy, named Acheron Hades (how would we know HE was a bad guy???) enters <i>Jane Eyre </i>and threatens to alter the course of the novel if his demands are not met. It's Thursday's job to stop him, but does she?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Hmmm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I give this book props for the excellent writing, the clever story line, the peppering of literary references and debates, and the respect with which it treated Charlotte Bronte's great work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Unfortunately, I didn't actually like it. This is the first of a series for Jasper Fforde, following Thursday Next on what I assume are her many literary adventures. But there were far too many silly names (Braxton Hicks! NO!) mythical creatures like vampires and werewolves, endless gadgets, car chases, time travel, on and on, to be of interest to me. Just not my cup of tea. It honestly was like reading a grown up version of Artemis Fowl, although Thursday is not quite as repulsive a character as he. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So I will think none the less of you if you read and enjoy this book, probably more fun if you are a more fun person, and most importantly, it won't ruin <i>Jane Eyre </i>for you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">On the other hand...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">Jane </i>by April Lindner is horrible from top to bottom. And that is all my review really has to say. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Okay, I'll go on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Author April Lindner teaches literature at the university level </span> <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and <i>Jane Eyre</i> has always been a favorite of hers to read and to teach. So I just can't understand why she would choose to massacre it in this way. Her story, <i>Jane, </i>is a modern day retelling, nearly detail to detail of <i>Jane Eyre. </i>Only without all the beautiful and engaging prose, the ability to win over centuries of readers with her character portrayals, or absolutely any insight into human existence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Lindner's Jane loses her parents (who never loved or cared for her anyway) to a car accident during college, is cheated out of an inheritance by her evil siblings, and is forced to leave school and work as a nanny to support herself, where of course she meets her Mr. Rochester blah blah blah. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">What Lindner failed to realize is that the reader falls in absolute love and sympathy and emotional investment with dear Jane Eyre throughout her unfortunate childhood as she retains and develops a brilliantly soft, engaging personality that always wins over good people in her path. By the time she reaches adulthood, we sympathize with and love her, caring what happens to her. Lindner somehow used all her creative literary skill to make her Jane completely devoid of absolutely any traces of personality or ability to evoke emotion in the reader. Really. Her childhood was horrible because her middle class parents didn't find her interesting enough and ignored her. Her siblings were natural born jerks who treated her badly for no reason. Jane herself picked up no friends or adults willing to take her under their wings along the way, and at college managed to make a total of one friend whose name I don't even remember being mentioned. Why did no one like her? From what I can tell, probably because she is the most one dimensional character ever to walk the pages of a published work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Read not this book. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Finis</i></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-40703881722783920792013-12-17T10:13:00.000-08:002013-12-17T10:48:04.122-08:00Wanna See the Beach House Part III: Come on In!<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://rebekahsweblog.blogspot.com/2013/07/theme-thursday-rooms-or-wanna-see-beach.html" target="_blank">Part I: Boy's room here</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://rebekahsweblog.blogspot.com/2013/09/wanna-see-beach-house-part-ii.html" target="_blank">Part II: Outside here</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://rebekahsweblog.blogspot.com/2013/08/theme-thursday-shadows-or-really-shade.html" target="_blank">Treehouse here</a></span></div>
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Obi and I both love homes. Houses, mansions, cabins, cottages, shacks, whatever, we love discovering their personality and the stories they have to tell. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Little Yellow Beach House</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The Beach House has been quite a character, I must say. Built in 1932, the Gulf of Mexico originally went right up to its steps, and over the years has slowly backed off, leaving a beautiful, though sand-spur filled field of sea grass and sea oats in front of it. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Looking in from the front landing</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Front door closed on the inside</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This tiled area, that takes the entire front portion of the home facing the beach, was originally a front porch before the major renovation of We Don't Know When. Sadly, a real front porch is the major feature the Beach House is lacking. But obviously this has added quite a bit more interior space and retained all the beautiful Gulf views. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Inside the foyer</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Work and school desk, completely inconveniently<br />located in the foyer area, but necessary</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Our wonderful wall of crap<br />(now I didn't have to show you,<br />but you know you would be wondering where it was!)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We have tried to gather as much info on the life of this house as we could from the people here, but there is so little information. Most homes here are vacation rentals, and the few permanent residents only know stories told to them, rumors. One rumor we enjoy hearing is that at one point, the Beach House was owned by the Catholic Church across the way, as the bird flies only about a tenth of a mile away (Yes! We hear the bells three times a day!). It is said that the priests or brothers lived here before housing was built for them at the little mission Parish. I choose to believe this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here, you can see this green ceiling was once the porch roof. So pretty. The wall in the picture below, with the Sacred art, was built by Obi to form the fourth bedroom for Peter and Jude, featured in Part I of this series. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Front sitting area</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Peter is a couch sitter. Does all his everything, reading, homework, texting, on that small couch, it is his domain. I guess it's a throwback to his homeschool days when he did all his work with his feet up on the couch.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bad artsy shot, but I wanted to show you the<br />beach view from these coaches</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The beach looks far away in the pictures, but it isn't in person. We see pelicans snatching their meals, dolphins jumping, tourists taking sunset selfies from right here on these couches.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2AbGVq69e6wM9tLU9Y16O77tPF_iNzzkm3bls50_4TuEF_ht7aPVBq3rtxXy22FOZEJaPFerVdliNGy6ZUBpTVzlSGMmHVUN8UxfvKBbVDEb6WY_2b1s29H8cl5Ll11DrU3akFEJfxQ/s1600/IMGP4871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2AbGVq69e6wM9tLU9Y16O77tPF_iNzzkm3bls50_4TuEF_ht7aPVBq3rtxXy22FOZEJaPFerVdliNGy6ZUBpTVzlSGMmHVUN8UxfvKBbVDEb6WY_2b1s29H8cl5Ll11DrU3akFEJfxQ/s640/IMGP4871.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This shot gives you a view of that front area from the back of the house, where the kitchen is. Meaning I am standing in the kitchen as I take this. (Gosh it was hard to take photos here, very tight spaces, and big transitions in small square footage.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The beautiful pinewood rafters would not have been originally exposed. They were left as architectural details when the house was redone, converting it from a flat to a slanted roof. I love them, made from the same gorgeous wood as the floor, a soft pine native to this area. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqahSA6VJS8KT1-RaX4hM5qmRzRM2wVGRDLMvuUU_Tm1Ux-0Z7JzDIjHocnYraOu-mzM5autEpY0UmwpSCzt5dbCofOTJSIbGS6TWTqSZP50OW79fZr33fUmazOHJxyFHlnCh1vzpjGuk/s1600/IMGP4838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqahSA6VJS8KT1-RaX4hM5qmRzRM2wVGRDLMvuUU_Tm1Ux-0Z7JzDIjHocnYraOu-mzM5autEpY0UmwpSCzt5dbCofOTJSIbGS6TWTqSZP50OW79fZr33fUmazOHJxyFHlnCh1vzpjGuk/s640/IMGP4838.JPG" width="422" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So these above and below are taken from that front area. Yes, it just goes living, dining, kitchen, with my tiny office where I am now typing in that back left corner, in front of the blue curtains.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DtQt5A8RjtYqDYdmkzZo_bAMpCXcu9_2LxYaV8Svp6SW-aUEKN5Bldy0W0tprY0ajXVJpUeWnxZSLqFeDViI9yT_I7TtjMxsMSqxlxve0kOA_SxjSdlyz5eYGMlijl3to5PH2fAyPVU/s1600/IMGP4847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DtQt5A8RjtYqDYdmkzZo_bAMpCXcu9_2LxYaV8Svp6SW-aUEKN5Bldy0W0tprY0ajXVJpUeWnxZSLqFeDViI9yT_I7TtjMxsMSqxlxve0kOA_SxjSdlyz5eYGMlijl3to5PH2fAyPVU/s640/IMGP4847.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The girls' little kitchen Obi built them has seen better days. And probably doesn't deserve to live directly underneath his architectural blueprint art of bartending.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLsKmDbVIqCNAb0Z5v52yw7UubmzQ1iImOqXpDkSs34qv1D13Rhho4fl7xQmITYhpIv_Pq4rni1lZES0tTyVxebdnzjf2d5bOhjMyccWkXdfi6fn3IuxvKS7dXvhwTDI-E1MBHS4UeM8/s1600/IMGP4863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLsKmDbVIqCNAb0Z5v52yw7UubmzQ1iImOqXpDkSs34qv1D13Rhho4fl7xQmITYhpIv_Pq4rni1lZES0tTyVxebdnzjf2d5bOhjMyccWkXdfi6fn3IuxvKS7dXvhwTDI-E1MBHS4UeM8/s640/IMGP4863.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Our Advent wreath has also seen better days!<br />I think I will need to spring for some clearance<br />fake evergreens after the New Year.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3oYMpOQT0kQHU3MzTWqvX3hdDnq8Tdqi_VPzRENjblzeRYBkArUVKOq2cl4EZA-eIlIOMFrrK1JHxHNCJuH1dpLBqSLGD7X3DvaLSurUTHvg4QLQhNFZYii3rQvSuXaxC4ypEEaxkJ8/s1600/IMGP4877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3oYMpOQT0kQHU3MzTWqvX3hdDnq8Tdqi_VPzRENjblzeRYBkArUVKOq2cl4EZA-eIlIOMFrrK1JHxHNCJuH1dpLBqSLGD7X3DvaLSurUTHvg4QLQhNFZYii3rQvSuXaxC4ypEEaxkJ8/s640/IMGP4877.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">View from the kitchen</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This was built to be an incredibly simple two bedroom, one bath beach cottage. This interior would have been divided up into separated kitchen, formal living, formal dining, entry. All that is gone.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyZUPWYukVknYCoVtHzVE2G0Y02pMjeXCvbosp5mAJOrV4qStNSoxtVsDuM_XveweJr5RI5FQhjwMqWq4lVF_Pz81pOesMGLimILb_WVM1MapQyqq6IuQAwZcAyhxEbDWchTkSf4tetM/s1600/IMGP4855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyZUPWYukVknYCoVtHzVE2G0Y02pMjeXCvbosp5mAJOrV4qStNSoxtVsDuM_XveweJr5RI5FQhjwMqWq4lVF_Pz81pOesMGLimILb_WVM1MapQyqq6IuQAwZcAyhxEbDWchTkSf4tetM/s640/IMGP4855.JPG" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My office</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Behind the blue curtains are actually a set of french doors added when the home was redone to make access easier from the driveway. We needed more storage space for the kitchen (only the tiny white cabinets and no pantry!) and I also wanted to limit the entries to One and Only One to keep sand at a minimum. So we closed this area off with the curtains and put up a couple of utility shelves. It has worked wonderfully.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hADx34rZpbQgUiJ6S9qPikj7MUzFbOgNRn2Jx7mX40UaER857FdqVeTKmM1OnYZ1de_QMFCbidaQaHRkCiLGC_oGWI6B9bMv6FMYtlx-E8T_123-6PZ-P-RGIJBT2cVsi-lgfgeQQyM/s1600/IMGP4882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hADx34rZpbQgUiJ6S9qPikj7MUzFbOgNRn2Jx7mX40UaER857FdqVeTKmM1OnYZ1de_QMFCbidaQaHRkCiLGC_oGWI6B9bMv6FMYtlx-E8T_123-6PZ-P-RGIJBT2cVsi-lgfgeQQyM/s640/IMGP4882.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Where the Web Log magic happens</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirB_6CmMw49D6vmaiCIVWp-pswkYlN2TbYxZJamn5sBJTFQWGnSoMGAkrZ-32Pa9coFHlHT_bPGcF1Vnuw3LDmAohdQMHLRXbutLXtP6F3Qj9ngB7D8Ln8vb-aeVrYdNRYRK9_eFO5CUA/s1600/IMGP4888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirB_6CmMw49D6vmaiCIVWp-pswkYlN2TbYxZJamn5sBJTFQWGnSoMGAkrZ-32Pa9coFHlHT_bPGcF1Vnuw3LDmAohdQMHLRXbutLXtP6F3Qj9ngB7D8Ln8vb-aeVrYdNRYRK9_eFO5CUA/s640/IMGP4888.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Just some priceless d'objets d'art</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">On into our bedroom!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The rooms that make up the master, its large bath, and its large walk-in closet were once part of those formal spaces, including a formal entry with mudroom. No longer. But it works for us.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBn8TNDboMtoeoTg1JXRaq0Xs6QxNf5fwB3-j1W_mifV-SISb-MpdwiOiQFUg_MfHYp1fJKkgCzSzbi-nVWkGMA85I3BJ552eiqOmck4elzux74DNHV5_HvNhoJV-8fRYEdob-5mFGOU/s1600/IMGP4911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBn8TNDboMtoeoTg1JXRaq0Xs6QxNf5fwB3-j1W_mifV-SISb-MpdwiOiQFUg_MfHYp1fJKkgCzSzbi-nVWkGMA85I3BJ552eiqOmck4elzux74DNHV5_HvNhoJV-8fRYEdob-5mFGOU/s640/IMGP4911.JPG" width="422" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixuQ2dJK5sOlZqtm2REMo5K6vZpZ0kgITBZ-rPtrxvpMdXyVKyUSes2w-kdZMmOqiqxJOj3kb_pPk2fn1wRK6hmRHcDNDl0f6AkTkuPazr8agbZO4-J-Okdv2jd7H_gz0uBe1PIeyzeyw/s1600/IMGP4915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixuQ2dJK5sOlZqtm2REMo5K6vZpZ0kgITBZ-rPtrxvpMdXyVKyUSes2w-kdZMmOqiqxJOj3kb_pPk2fn1wRK6hmRHcDNDl0f6AkTkuPazr8agbZO4-J-Okdv2jd7H_gz0uBe1PIeyzeyw/s640/IMGP4915.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The framed fabric above the bed is actually a sliding glass door<br />we needed to conceal. We have actually liked the effect and<br />it has helped this room to feel more warm, we are<br />not knick-knack collectors, and we have<br />very few "things."</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">More than anything else, I will miss this beautiful window,<br />right next to my pillow. This will go down in<br />Rebekah History as being one of the<br />most soothing and happy places I have ever gazed:<br />beach breeze, warm sun, all.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmriCb7M-_nQRZBN1q92vrsRJwpPe6_SF7avDLHSuYawquANePJX3p9AKcl5Z9Z-6W67FMvPFQ1cRmC9WmrvCpYyqsbqNzOm6XNAwY9XkEmb6FMWPLcPYJ-gNgR-m_VPd3xMKG-5g0KPE/s1600/IMGP4919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmriCb7M-_nQRZBN1q92vrsRJwpPe6_SF7avDLHSuYawquANePJX3p9AKcl5Z9Z-6W67FMvPFQ1cRmC9WmrvCpYyqsbqNzOm6XNAwY9XkEmb6FMWPLcPYJ-gNgR-m_VPd3xMKG-5g0KPE/s640/IMGP4919.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Obi's vintage drafting table now sadly used as a tv stand.<br />I don't know why that dining chair is there, random.<br />This leather chair is where Obi does all his work at night (sigh).<br />Yes, I know the valance is crooked, please<br />write me for a house tour refund.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Off our dining area is a small hallway that leads to what were the two original bedrooms and the bathroom. Our girls room was most likely the master. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The largest of the three windows above would have looked straight onto the beach. Now it looks straight into Peter and Jude's bunk bed. Gross. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Below are the beautiful white built ins: desk,drawers, shelves. So pretty.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I swear this was in focus when I took it</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The girls' <a href="http://rebekahsweblog.blogspot.com/2013/04/ikea-kura-hack-pinterest-party.html" target="_blank">Ikea hack bunk</a> is still going strong! We had so many pretty projects planned for this room: converting the defunct window to an art wall, curtains, who knows, but alas, time ran out too soon. Lovely anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I won't show you the other bedroom, Joseph's and Isaac's, cause I'm too lazy to even minimally clean it for you, but it's there. Behind where Isaac is practicing on the pull-up bar, one of the Family Es's prized possessions. Seriously, back off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Just notice the slim built in cabinets on the left. Why doesn't every hallway have one of these? Love them!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And well, I guess that's all folks. We live a simple life, all eight of us. This house has been a grand adventure and enriched all of our experience here on this earth. A true gift. So sad to think that most likely someday soon this place won't exist. It is owned by investors in Germany who are only holding onto it until it can be sold for much more. Anyone willing to spend the millions the land is worth won't want to live in this simple cottage.<a href="http://rebekahsweblog.blogspot.com/2013/10/in-search-of-w.html" target="_blank"> It will be flattened like the one two doors down</a>, to make room for a gargantuan, soaring display piece. So glad the Family Es was able to call it home for this short time.</span></div>
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Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-24134377827311591692013-12-15T20:17:00.000-08:002013-12-15T20:29:36.590-08:00Outtakes-Christmas Card Edition<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Dear Web Log,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Has it been seasonal around here! And by that, yes, I mean crazy. So many things keeping me away from recording our lives in these silly posts, "creating material for the Web Log," that's how I categorize the slots of time that are too full of life to have time to stop and muse about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Shopping, list making, Advent praying, soul searching, you know, <b><span style="font-size: large;">buying a house</span></b>, stuff like that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, yes, that means a sad, sand-filled goodbye to the beloved Beach House days. Won't miss the sand. In our beds. In our toothbrushes. In our, you get the picture. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We close on the new house in just a couple weeks, making the Christmas busy-ness all the more busy. We have been so very blessed to have the life that we had on the beach here, and certainly didn't expect to find a permanent home so soon. Being the gypsies we are, we are only excited to move on to the next new thing...what's wrong with us!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But fully expect the upcoming posts to be very beach filled, including, I am so hoping, <b><span style="font-size: large;">tomorrow</span></b> to bring the Web Log the conclusion of my <a href="http://rebekahsweblog.blogspot.com/2013/07/theme-thursday-rooms-or-wanna-see-beach.html" target="_blank">Wanna See the Beach House series</a>. Inside!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Anyway, blabber blabber, what I really wanted to show off are the outtakes of our beloved Christmas card. We love our yearly Christmas card, always. Brings us so much happiness to create and share. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And tears, it brings us lots and lots of tears. And that, Dear Web Log, is what I bring you today:</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Gosh, Joseph, thanks! Almost a perfect picture on the FIRST TAKE!<br />Wouldn't want to pose for a perfect picture so soon and<br />miss out on the ensuing chaos!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Why don't we bring the dog into the mix, that always<br />makes things easier.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">One of the more treasured moments.<br />Wouldn't want to be Joseph.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Practicing for the perfect smile.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That's better.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Um, Isaac?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Total loss of parental control.<br />Nice pants, Peter.<br />Nice diaper, Isaac.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I want to be left alone!<br />No more paparazzi! </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">...And you'll have to stay tuned to find out if we got One. Good. Shot. Merry Christmas Card!</span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-76085696096304566052013-12-05T06:46:00.001-08:002013-12-05T08:48:44.466-08:00Theme Thursday: Lights! Or Bad Photos, Happy Birthdays<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://clan-donaldson.com/2013/12/theme-thursday-lights/" target="_blank">Joining Cari and her photographing mass of motif minded mobsters for another round of Theme Thursday, this week: Lights!</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...Which I forgot completely about. So shuffling through my phone this morning I found some horrible beauties I thought I would subject you all to, thereby claiming my title as Worst Phone Photographer of All Time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And, to retain my title as Worst Mom Blogger of All Time, I realized Momo's birthday came and went with nary a peep from the Web Log. And I think this photo also solidifies my alternate title as Worst Cake Decorator of All Time. But don't let the haphazard frosting job and candles all askew fool you: that cake was delish. So there, function before form. Happy 6th Birthday, Naomi Margaret!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">To celebrate her birthday she asked to go to a fair. It is a known and highly prized fact that the Family Es does not "do" fairs. I think the main attraction that exists between Obi and I (me? someone shout out the right pronoun, please) is that we both suffer from sensory overload and things like fairs make us feel like hiding in a closet and weeping. Well I don't think that's Obi's exact reaction, but he's not here to describe his specific and equally pitiful reflex, so we will leave it at both of us weeping together in a closet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We went to a fair when the big boys were little, and it is known as the fair of their childhood. This one shall be known as the fair of the little ones' childhood. Isaac will probably not remember, but above is the photographic evidence to prove that he too had a childhood fair. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">By the way, I love that picture! I was actually really pleased with it and sent it to my sister who didn't reply at all. Then I had to text and ask her about it and she just replied that she couldn't tell what it is. I told her it's an artsy shot of Isaac on a fair ride, and she was still not impressed. I hate when I have to explain I'm being artsy, just kinda ruins it. Next time I will send my cool pics to some hipster friends who will appreciate me. So...I'm in the market for friends, I guess. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh! And also...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Obi turned 40! In an artful, crafty way I purposely tried to highlight the lights here to match the Theme. And to obscure the fact that this was a "store-boughten" cake, and therefore would completely overshadow Momo's cake on the pleasing-to-the-eye scale. But Obi is still cute no matter what, homemade birthday crown and all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Happy Birthday my loved ones, the Web Log forgets you not. </span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-31336621873504053742013-12-04T11:09:00.001-08:002013-12-04T11:09:54.219-08:00All I Want For Christmas is Some Polo Swag and Some Cold Hard Cash<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Suffering from pre-holiday brain melt, but still want to log some of our daily life, ever changing, ever exhausting. So...I'm doing a double blog link-up:<a href="http://martinfamilymoments.blogspot.com/2013/11/christmas-wish-lists-link-up.html" target="_blank"> Martin Family Moment's "Christmas Wish Lists"</a>, and <a href="http://rosie-ablogformymom.blogspot.com/2013/12/what-they-said-vol-3.html" target="_blank">Rosie's ever hilarious "What They Said" </a>wherein Rosie diligently records the massively phenomenal things her brilliant children come up with (lots of poop jokes.) I think my kids' small lists are so funny and tell so much about their personalities. [On a side note, please say a prayer for Rosie and her family whose father passed away last week.]</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Let us begin...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">[Photos taken during our annual Thanksgiving Turkey Trot, look in vain for Jude, he opted out this year, frowny face.]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">All I want, at all. Is forty pairs of my own underwear. Forty pairs, no more, no less. Of my own underwear that no one else can use under any circumstances. That's it, that's what I want.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(Mom's note: Peter and Jude do share clothes but have previously drawn the line on underwear. Before the move and the tiny washer in the beach house, this hasn't been a problem, and everybody had their own clean underwear. I now constantly have large stacks of unwashed clothes, which leads to panicked, searching moments in the morning, and horror of horror, shared underwear.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I want Santa to bring me Polo swag and cold hard cash. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(Our resident non-materialist, obviously.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Joseph</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(Imagine tears running down his adorable baby-faced cheeks, and agonized gasping breaths as he cries this.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I don't know what I want!!! I don't know yet!!! I'm still deciding!!! Don't make me decide, I'll just change my mind!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>AnneMarie</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I want an MP3 player so I can listen to my own music when I am working, cleaning and running. This house is too loud!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> What I want for Christmas is a new bike because my old one rusted all away, and a pony that we can keep in the yard. Do you think I'll get a pony? Can I really have a pony? I mean my own pony that I would own.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Me:</b> Isaac, what do you want for Christmas?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Isaac:</b> I want for Christmas...a present!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Me:</b> Good deal.</span></div>
Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-31911726705768320782013-12-02T19:43:00.000-08:002013-12-02T19:43:28.328-08:00Three Things I Love About Advent<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I have so enjoyed reading all the bloggers gushing about their favorite Advent traditions through <a href="http://californiatokorea.com/3-reasons/3-reasons-love-advent" target="_blank">Micaela from California to Korea (and back again)'s link up</a>. Especially awesome is Micaela's original post about Kairos. So beautiful. Couldn't resist adding my own...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>The Gospel</b> - It's not called The Greatest Story Ever Told for nothin'. It is our own family tradition to read a full Gospel over the course of both Advent and Lent. I know there are plenty of other prayers and set readings that are great for enriching the Advent experience, but years ago I felt the children (and I) would greatly benefit from reading the Gospels in their entirety in a short period of time, and thus began our tradition. I cannot tell you how much this has meant to me, reading the Gospels </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">always helps my relationship with Christ Himself like nothing else I have experienced. And reading them aloud to my children, constantly brimming with questions, always forces me to look at my faith more deeply and search for answers to questions I before had never pondered. I pray at this time that they too, my little ones, will come to know the heart of Christ, will come to understand that is in fact the heart of all it is that we are here for, why we do what we do. Unless they themselves fall completely in love with the person of Christ, all of the lessons and posturing and ideals we labor to instill in them will dry up in their souls like the seed planted in rocky soil. I feel like this reading of the Gospels in preparation for Christmas opens the window for them to encounter the person the Christ, and know who this Baby is in swaddling clothes, plastic and smiling beneath the Christmas tree.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This Advent we are reading Matthew, consisting of 28 chapters. Most chapters can be read in a matter of minutes, and we generally read two a night during our prayer time, and of course, some nights none at all. So it works out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Advent Wreath</b> - The Church in her great wisdom recognizes that being made in God's image means we long for beauty in our daily lives, our physical selves encounter God's Spirit through concrete realities and we recognize that yes, we have senses, yes, they are good and holy. The Advent wreath embodies this for me. We put our Advent wreath on the dining room table and light the appropriate candles with special prayers every evening. We let them burn throughout the whole meal, adding a wonderfully special level of formality to our regular beastly carnage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Thanks Advent!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Countdown to Christmas Advent calendars with daily candy </b>- What? You don't like fun? Lighten up, enjoy the anticipation!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This year I attached bags with six candies to our lovely Target felt decor because I was tired of the hardships that came with taking daily turns: The little ones suffer from chronic whine syndrome and the big ones have acute cases of stealing turns from those who can't keep track. Both deadly in large families. This year, six candies per day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If only Isaac understood that we aren't eating the entire display this evening. </span></div>
Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-29587280149285099102013-11-25T07:05:00.000-08:002013-11-25T07:05:09.329-08:00Real Barefoot Beach Run<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Naomi cheering me on. Before I have started.<br />I have the greatest fans.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Have you ever done beach running? I have not before moving here. It took me a long time before I was able to say, "Let's do this!" I think part of my procrastinating was that I was afraid I would hate it. I love to run! I love the beach! What if somehow these loves combined to form a thoroughly middling experience, thus forcing me to feel that I truly am the phony I have always feared I am underneath it all? Fear, anxiety, procrastination ensue...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But of course I finally did it. Why do these fleshy temples both resist and crave change? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The first few times I was out, I admit it, I was not enamored. My shoes got wet and full of sand, it was hard to find the right place to run smoothly, constantly changing direction and paths on the very limited scope of the shore, I irritated both fisherman with their lines in front of them and bird watchers whose beloved flocks I scattered, which in turn irritated me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But not being the persistent type, even with my grievances, I got past these little things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mostly by taking off my shoes and opening my eyes, both of which actions are known to work miracles. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IGIWT-DpHOc/UpNShHO-frI/AAAAAAAAR7U/qoo9-ukeDjQ/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IGIWT-DpHOc/UpNShHO-frI/AAAAAAAAR7U/qoo9-ukeDjQ/s640/Awesomized" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Leaving the tourists behind</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was afraid at first of running totally barefoot, what with shells and jellyfish and sand spurs. But letting go of those little bitty fears allowed me to experience the run in such a new way, such a new challenge, such a new joy. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Fabulous form?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Instead of feeling irritated when I had to run where the sand was extra soft and challenging, I realized that was what I was there for. Not to run my fastest or my hardest, but to feel the sand. To dodge the dead wood, to run through the water and under the trees, finding the hidden paths. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Why does this phone not do a better job<br />conveying the magical, mysterious pleasure of<br />these little paths? </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There is a great fun in dodging and hurtling, if your eyes are open.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And even more fun to sprint when the path is clear before you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GpZ2S3axxfU/UpNS3xXxVCI/AAAAAAAAR70/LG0VRMnikmU/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GpZ2S3axxfU/UpNS3xXxVCI/AAAAAAAAR70/LG0VRMnikmU/s640/Awesomized" width="478" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We live two miles from the end of this island, named for the estuary that separates it from the the mainland. To be able to run two miles and reach the end of something, that is exhilarating, and I am have been tempted to swim across when I get to the end, just to say I did so. But I don't because of waiting babies, which isn't a bad thing. It is a good feeling to know that someone is missing you, and looking for your return. An adventure.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">These guys are always too deep in pruning and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">contemplating the mysteries of the universe to pay me a bit of attention.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I don't mind.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5CEMNlmDhFE/UpNTfBqMu-I/AAAAAAAAR8c/A_SA8yEx6pw/s1600/Awesomized" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5CEMNlmDhFE/UpNTfBqMu-I/AAAAAAAAR8c/A_SA8yEx6pw/s640/Awesomized" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I have my own mysteries to ponder.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mysteries like why did someone strew these groups of trees with</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">seashells and sand dollars?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Maybe just because it's beautiful.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Of course my camera died before I reached the end of this particular run, I only brought it to take pictures for you. That is the me I know. Well intentioned, and always a little unprepared. As Momo would say, "That's okay."</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The buildings in the distance are on the mainland, over<br />the bridge into the city to the south<br />of us.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The verdict? I'm in love with running all over again. And the beach. Good for your soul. And your soles. And pretty kind to the legs as well (keeping it real.)<br /></span><br />
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</span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-73451547495153136352013-11-21T05:51:00.002-08:002013-11-21T05:51:45.647-08:00Theme Thursday: Shaming<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My apologies to the entire <a href="http://clan-donaldson.com/projects/">Theme Thursday</a> community for this one. I originally hinted at "Shaming" as a possible theme when <a href="http://clan-donaldson.com/2013/09/theme-thursday-out/">Cari </a>featured a picture of her darling, innocent son in time out for TT "Out". <a href="http://adashofsnark.blogspot.com/">Madeline seconded the notion</a>, and here we are!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFUjV7G5aTsM1IDkxzR1pwzok6rDlP2HigNdUTzZBlbAuQzf0qo5mnhVGimTk0Clina0xhBA-eC9sQVebHvI9Vc-dEjTouehdVUS0CdHfOm3kXtaP99o5OKCfS8nhppziCOCJabq6hRo/s1600/becky+chocolate+adjusted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFUjV7G5aTsM1IDkxzR1pwzok6rDlP2HigNdUTzZBlbAuQzf0qo5mnhVGimTk0Clina0xhBA-eC9sQVebHvI9Vc-dEjTouehdVUS0CdHfOm3kXtaP99o5OKCfS8nhppziCOCJabq6hRo/s640/becky+chocolate+adjusted.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Good thing my children don't read the Web Log! Hey! Free chocolate to any of my kids who reads your mother's lovely writings! Now I know...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Go have some more fun, it's <a href="http://clan-donaldson.com/2013/11/theme-thursday-shaming/">Theme Thursday: Shaming!</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-84479807778151305382013-11-18T14:59:00.000-08:002013-11-18T14:59:14.957-08:00Dear Web Log, What Do I DO All Day?<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Dear Web Log,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">You know those dreams where you are kinda confused and then all of a sudden you are falling, falling before you jerk yourself awake? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">You know that feeling when you are rushing three little kids to the car, late of course, one who has no shoes, one with dirty finger nails, one you just spilled coffee on (not your precious coffee!!) and you sit in the driver's seat and know without a doubt you have forgotten something but can. not. remember. what?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">You know that feeling when everything is undone, and there is so much to plan for and what in the world is everyone going to eat for dinner, but the kids are laughing outside and the breeze and the sunshine are mingling just so and you put everything down and just walk out the door and soak in that perfect moment for just a little bit: Isaac's smile, Momo's singing, Joseph's antics, God's joy?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I've been living a deadly cocktail of the three since we moved to the Beach House five months ago. Five months. Of this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Every morning I wake up hoping for the warm close feel of familiarity to set in, or just the centrifugal force to sloooow down so that I know exactly where I am and what I am doing. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqtQui0XCL5zbTkz1z5VyH0pGRzAKGxbcOZQNpt3yY2HR7mJjv1rcWpCtSxUuTV_mejJVY-OgiTaeIDwS90fBw1cI-YguQvgkEWh6iS8VUt3WTiQEgb-ptWAk-OvZhqQfMb2UGcJDpmw/s1600/Awesomized-MOTION.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqtQui0XCL5zbTkz1z5VyH0pGRzAKGxbcOZQNpt3yY2HR7mJjv1rcWpCtSxUuTV_mejJVY-OgiTaeIDwS90fBw1cI-YguQvgkEWh6iS8VUt3WTiQEgb-ptWAk-OvZhqQfMb2UGcJDpmw/s640/Awesomized-MOTION.gif" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It takes a toll on one, to be perfectly melodramatic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Little bits of routine work their way into our lives, despite my undeniably magnificent ability to avoid obligation or accomplishment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here is how our days are generally panning out these days, ever and constant variations of this theme, which sounds like this: fun or chaos?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">5:20 my alarm goes off and I pry my limbs out of bed and stumble to wake up Peter, who always always always gets up as soon as he is called.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">He showers, gets Jude up, or starts the 20 minute long process of waking up Jude. Usually either Obi or I have to physically remove him from his bed, so much fun. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">They generally take care of themselves in the morning after that, I make lunches, iron Obi's clothes, make coffee, and the boys leave at 6:30, and I call the little ones. And all that goes with that, you know.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">By 7:30 we are all out the door, except for unschooled Joseph who is still asleep, dreaming of better things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I drop the girls off at their school...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...and normally these days, Isaac and I drive another half an hour to his "school," which is actually the Y so that I can exercise while he goes to the babysitting room. This has been an enormously positive development for me: to get out of the house, to be around breathing humans who aren't dependent on me, to physically push myself reeeely hard for just one tiny, long hour. I have purposely been doing group fitness classes, which I have never in my life participated in. I have also never regularly done strength training, only cardio. I do not enjoy strength training, and it feels the same about me. We are coming to terms with one another through Pilates, Boot Camp and the extremely fun (absolutely no sarcasm, you're reading that wrong) <a href="http://w3.lesmills.com/global/en/classes/bodypump/about-bodypump/">Body Pump</a>. Amazing. Isaac meanwhile loves playing with the so nice ladies who love him to pieces, their toys, and at a very distant third place the other children.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We are home generally by 10 and I find Joseph lazing about on the couch with his computer doing German. He is taking an on-line high school German class (for credit!) and it is hard. Very hard. He generally works on this from the time he wakes up until lunch time. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Joseph found this book on the beach, it's <i>Catching Fire</i>,<br />and now it's part of our scenery</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">After lunch Isaac naps, I help (force-feed)Joseph with his other subjects, do housework (laundrylaundrylaundry), do my computer thing, do housework (laundrylaundrylaundry) until 2:15 when Isaac and I pick the girls up at their bus stop. Their stop is right at a hotel that caters to trendy, cute Europeans, and it is almost part of our daily routine to walk back from the bus stop with a couple of Euros trailing us on their way to the beach exclaiming over my cute kids' cuteness. The kids smile and nod and I smile and nod, part of our day. Weird.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jude is generally home by this point as well as and all five of them watch a couple of TV shows. This has never, ever, ever been a part of our lives, TV after school, but it is completely indicative of not having myself pulled together enough to parent everybody properly alllll of the time. SO...they get that hour of TV and snacks and it is a pretty peaceful time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Meanwhile I do laundry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">After the magical TV hour when I go in with the fierceness and determination of a gladiator prepared to die and turn off the devil's box, we go out to play! We go down to the beach, we play on the seawall, we go to the backyard with the <a href="http://rebekahsweblog.blogspot.com/2013/08/theme-thursday-shadows-or-really-shade.html">treehouse,</a> and it is good. I purposely did not put any of the little kids in after school activities this fall because I wanted this time so badly for us. This time is so fleeting, breathe a little. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We are generally in before the sun sets, they do homework, argue, mess up the house, find fault with one another, and cuddle and read with each other on the couch. This and that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">One of the major things I am working on in my mothering is getting dinner on the table earlier. We have historically been late dinner eaters, 7, 7:30 even: to eat with Peter and Obi who are rarely ever home by that time. But this is hard on all of us, we all end up snacking too much and dinner clean-up runs too close to bed time. Obi and Peter walk in when we are clearing the table, and so shameful to admit but they often sit there eating leftovers at a filthy table, gross. Sorry fellas. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Obi's travel shot, when he flies I like him<br />to take a pic of himself when he arrives and<br />send it to me, cause I'm cute like that,<br />and he's...cute!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If it is early enough, I try to head out for a run while Obi plays with them, but this plan goes awry far more often than it is accomplished.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Revisiting the sand city they built the night before<br />and seeing the destruction the tide wrought.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Table gets cleared, kids get in the bath, teeth brushed, and we try astronomically hard to sit down, all eight of us, for prayer time. I read the Bible, or Youcat, or a story of a saint, conversation ensues, Isaac seizes the opportunity to jump repeatedly WWF style on every single one of us, and we pray a decade of the rosary. Just a decade, shameful, but guess how much more prayer a decade is than no prayer? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A monumental difference. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">By 8:30 AnneMarie, Momo, Isaac and I head into their bedroom where AnneMarie reads to herself, I read to the little ones, sing to them, and we all slowly drift off. Usually by 9:30 Obi wakes me up, or I wake up on my own to find the big boys goofing around and Obi asleep on the couch. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Very tired, I usually enter into some philosophical discussion the boys are having (recent discussions have included "why is it logistically improbable for a teenager to live on his own in a hotel?;" "what are the defining characteristics of a psychopath?;" "why is it that Peter and Jude own a combined three single socks?" good stuff.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">All the while Obi and I clean up the kitchen, Peter homeworks away, Joseph schemes, Jude teases all of us, on and on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And then we collapse. I don't know what time it is, between 9:30 and midnight, right about there. I read in bed, Obi works more on his computer in the chair in our bedroom (seriously) and somehow sleep finds us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And then my alarm goes off at 5:20.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Dear Web Log, are you still listening? I'm done now, laundry awaits. </span></div>
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Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-91256666817121217392013-11-13T15:48:00.000-08:002013-11-14T05:37:07.330-08:00Theme Thursday: Cold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We went out last night to fly our kite at sunset, but flew nothing because of the tangles we helpless children left in it last time, then crumpled it up and left it at the bottom of a bin, hoping beyond hope knots would just kinda come to some agreement with each other and work things out for themselves before we came to take it out to play again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">No such luck.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Naomi shot this photo of me and the kite's adventure, with eager Isaac cheering me on, far more confident in my ability to reason with string than was warranted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I love this picture, shoes running amock, blanket tangled, dog standing guard, and most of all Isaac's pretty, pretty little knees. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The wind was blowing, as evidenced by attempts with the kite, and although you can't tell, other than by my sweater and Isaac in his sister's coat, it was cold. The kind of cold that is soft and welcome on your cheek and in your hair, makes you feel forlorn and full of longing for Things Undefined, a sandy, gritty mood.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Brooding somewhat hopeless in front of Isaac's need for flight and my inability to unknot tangle after tangle, a never ending maze of meaningless snags, arguing also with the wind that WOULD have its own way with the string, the kite itself begging to be let go to play, I thought of this poem:</span><br />
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The Cold Heaven</h1>
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<span class="author" style="background-color: white; color: #4d493f; display: inline-block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0.05em; text-transform: uppercase;">BY <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/william-butler-yeats" style="color: #043d6e; outline: none; text-decoration: none;">WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS</a></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;"></span><br />
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Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven</div>
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That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice, </div>
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And thereupon imagination and heart were driven </div>
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So wild that every casual thought of that and this</div>
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Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season </div>
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With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago; </div>
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And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason, </div>
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Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro, </div>
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Riddled with light. Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken, </div>
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Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent </div>
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Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken </div>
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By the injustice of the skies for punishment?</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So forgive me! I get a little Moody sometimes!</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Go see <strike>Clan Donaldson</strike> Mary Kate for more beautiful and far far less introspective photography. <a href="http://whyyesiamcrazythankyouforasking.blogspot.com/2013/11/theme-thursday-cold.html" target="_blank">It's Theme Thursday: Cold!</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px;"></span></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-22932594266716355862013-11-06T08:15:00.001-08:002013-11-06T08:15:38.522-08:00WWRW: Ender's Game<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Guest post by Joseph, 12 year old dedicated unschooler (not really but he doesn't go to school and is incredibly hard to teach, so I don't really homeschool him, he just kind of learns.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Joseph says: </span><br />
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<i>Ender"s Game</i> by Orson Scott Card is placed in the future where the earth is in war with aliens known as buggers. The government is searching for a person to lead the army into battle to destroy the buggers. They put children through a series of tests starting from infancy, viewing their actions through a monitor placed in their neck. If they pass these tests they are put into Battle School where they learn to fight. Ender is chosen to go to Battle School and the government thinks he may be the one who can lead the entire army. He goes through various trials in Battle School to determine if he is right for the job.</div>
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I liked many things about this book. A few of the things I liked were that Ender was very young and then it progressed through his childhood. I thought the story teller was very good at making you feel like you were there. And I thought the whole idea of an alien invasion where the aliens have a different “mind set” than humans was a very interesting idea too. </div>
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What I liked most was the description of Battle School. I liked the idea of how all of the kids were in armies and lived together in dormitories. I also liked the mind games the children played on their "desks' that were really like advanced computers. The mind game collected from your personal experiences and built a structure that would suit you. The format of the war games that the children played were fascinating because they used different strategies to win, always trying to be more athletic and also smarter. I thought it was interesting that the kids didn’t really care about their schoolwork and neither did any of the teachers. All that mattered was that the children learned enough to succeed in the war games, because that is how the earth would be saved. </div>
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I recommend <i>Ender's Game</i> to anyone interested in science fiction or action stories.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mom says: Surprising to me, I really enjoyed this story despite the action filled, sciency portions that I admittedly skimmed. Card's remarkable psychological perspective gives the reader just as great an opportunity to reflect on human thought patterns and behavior as on space travel and technological advancement (yawn). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The writing is also spectacularly engaging in that it is straightforward and consumable for younger, fast paced minds, without compromising on quality of dialogue or internal musings. This passage between Ender and his sister, who have been separated for years while Ender's life was consumed with the rigors of Battle School, is a particularly compelling example:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"You're bigger than I remembered," she said stupidly.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"You too," he said. "I also remembered that you were beautiful."</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Memory does play tricks on us."</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"No. Your face is the same, but I don't remember what beautiful means anymore."</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And POW! Doesn't that hit ya! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Ender's Game</i>, in all its dystopian evilness masked behind the "For the Good of Mankind" especially lends itself to worthy discussion between parent and child. Here are a few bullet points that parents should be prepared to discuss, as you can see, mainly surrounding the fact that the governments of the earth have decided that all rights are useless unless humanity can be saved from the buggers:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Individual freedom and privacy vs. fate of humanity (government spying on children from within their minds in order to find the right soldiers to save mankind) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Age of reason for children, particularly when making decisions that will control the rest of their lives (Ender is asked whether he will forfeit his life to the govenment at the age of 6)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Government restrictions on religion and family size</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Ends justifying the means (lies and secrecy on the part of the government in order to manipulate individuals to save mankind)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Genetic engineering of humans is alluded to, again, in order to create the perfect individual who will act as savior</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Deprivation of affection in order to achieve results</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">At what point are the vile means a government takes for self preservation no longer worth the survival of humanity? </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">No, not light stuff.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Thanks to <a href="http://www.housewifespice.com/2013/11/its-what-were-reading-wednesday-two-for.html" target="_blank">Housewife Spice</a> for hosting! Go check out what every one else is reading! </span><br />
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Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-77937364753931791942013-11-05T14:39:00.001-08:002013-11-05T14:50:49.728-08:00OOTD <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You know what the Web Log is in dire need of? Some fashion posts. High fashion that everyone can ooh and aah over and admire us for and hope to emulate in their own inadequate way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So with those humble sentiments in mind, I present you with our inaugural <span style="font-size: large;"><b>OOTD</b></span> post (outfit of the day for the uninitiated): </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I give you my my niece Susana, aka Shosho, (my sister and I are inordinately fond of names of the nick variety).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Shosho is sporting...</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Lovely purple puffer jacket </span><a href="http://www.lyst.com/clothing/forzieri-purple-womens-metallic-purple-puffer-jacket/" target="_blank">similar here</a></li>
<li>White Circo summer dress embellished with tutu for extra volume and warmth <a href="http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/article/TMG9818176/Paris-Haute-Couture-Chanel-springsummer-2013.html" target="_blank">similar here</a></li>
<li>Hot pink legwarmers <a href="http://www.cutedaily.com/10-dogs-in-leg-warmers/" target="_blank">similar here</a></li>
<li>Black moccasin booties <a href="http://www.ladyandtheblog.com/2010/05/11/celebrity-style-kate-moss-moccasin-boots/" target="_blank">similar here</a></li>
<li>Frightening on-all-four-haunches Dora Pillowpet accessory <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/p/toys-games-dora-the-explorer-pillow-pets-pee-wees/25565951?cm_mmc=googlepla-_-toysgames_10to25-_-q000000633-_-735541208119&cm_mmca2=pla&ean=735541208119&isbn=735541208119&r=1" target="_blank">same here</a></li>
<li>Fashion forward impossibly symmetrical blonde bowl cut <a href="http://voices.washingtonpost.com/celebritology/2006/08/catching_up_with_robbie_rist.html" target="_blank">similar here</a></li>
<li>Painfully adorable dimple on bottom left cheek when she smiles just-so <b>similar absolutely nowhere</b></li>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">At least that's what I see when I see her. Thanks for playing along, Shosho! Stay tuned for more inspiring OOTDs!</span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-28622712028714708352013-11-04T08:49:00.001-08:002013-11-04T08:49:49.277-08:00Workaholics<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was so excited for my two brainiac teenagers to find jobs. Money is of course one reason. We have never given out allowances at the House of Es, mostly because we are all too scatterbrained (every one of us, it's genetic)to remember anything on a weekly basis, and also because, well, ain't nobody got pocket change for dat! "Dat" being six kids. We do pay them for doing jobs around the house, which is in general an ok system. But not very regular, and I honestly don't pay them very well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So what happens when they want to "hang?" Just to meet friends for, geez, anything, costs them pocket change. Bowling, movies, mini-golf, football games, Mo's, none of that stuff is free it turns out. Now that they are driving age, every time the two of them have gone to meet friends, it has meant spending money. A lot of things they have simply missed out on, which means it's taking longer to establish friendships. This has not made for an easy transition. And it is so, so hard, I admit, to be the new kid in a new place and to always have to sit out whatever you are invited to because you don't have yet another five bucks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">How do teenagers pay to do all this stuff? Do their parents really just give them oodles of money to "hang" with? According to Peter and Jude they do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But we don't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Are they secretly embittered against us for this? Maybe a little.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They also see that I can't pay them to mow the lawn or to clean the windows every single day. They also see that the money it costs for one round of mini-golf would pay for an entire month of Netflix for our whole family, or a new pair of shoes for Isaac's ever growing feet, or bread and juice for that homeless guy downtown for a week. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And you know what? As much as they want to be cool and "hang" and play mini-golf, I know they love for our family to watch Netflix together, love Isaac and his shoe'd feet, even love that scary homeless guy who always wants to tell you his story and have you buy him some juice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So like the three little pigs in the fable (minus the smart one who built the brick house), Peter and Jude went off to seek their fortunes in the world. I was thrilled to think of my little, impressionable ones being taken under someone's generous wings and taught to do, well, anything! Flip burgers with aplomb, bag groceries with gracious manners, make change from a register with ever increasing brilliance and dexterity! And have their own money for bowling!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Well, they did get jobs. But I'm not sure they are learning...anything!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Peter does this: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He stands on a street corner for four hour intervals listening to books on tape. He has finished about 5 books already, so I guess he is learning from reading? Oh! He is learning to be targeted and harassed by those filled with righteous indignation. Many the driver has shouted angrily at him, "ADOPT DONT SHOP!!!! PUPPY MILLS KILL!" He shrugs his shoulders and smiles. He got his first paycheck the other day and I don't think it hurt his dignity one bit to realize he could be replaced by a simple post and nail. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jude. Here he is when I dropped him off a block away (he's ashamed of me) from his esteemed place of business for his first day last week:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">What does he do? Oh, he passes out flyers. On the beach. Dressed like this. Or in a fancy taco costume when he's lucky (pictures of that yet to come!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If he proves himself a worthy flyer-passer-outer, he will graduate to working in this classy taco shack. That is a gigantic "if," folks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Well, they may not be interning with a motorcycle mechanic or a French chef, but they are filling some kind of need, and more importantly, are earning enough money to hang. My cool kids.</span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405354417859464849noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-42550818695204305202013-10-31T03:38:00.002-07:002013-11-02T12:15:38.121-07:00Waif Princess of Pirate's Defeat Island<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"><b>They</b></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> had heard the legend of the tiny Pirate Princess, buried in the sand for centuries...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>They</b></span> had heard of the bloody pirate captain, murdered off shore, abandoned by his own crew for his own wickedness. He gurgled his last breaths in the rising salty water, commanding his waif child to sleep sweetly in the dune grass until his killers' ancestors returned to the Island of Pirate's Defeat...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>To</b></span> awaken and exact revenge...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>They</b></span> thought it was nothing more than the lore of lonely islanders intent on scaring children...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"><b>They were wrong!</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Go have more fun at <a href="http://www.clan-donaldson.com/" target="_blank">Clan Donaldson, Theme Thursday: Scary!</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-66781193769099349192013-10-30T06:43:00.003-07:002013-10-30T06:43:58.198-07:00What We're Reading Wednesday: Finding Grace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So happy to finally come to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Grace-Laura-Pearl/dp/1936453118/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1383136226&sr=8-4&keywords=finding+grace" target="_blank"><i>Finding Grace</i> by Laura H. Pearl</a> on my book-list! I learned of this novel from the author's<a href="http://mumsie2five.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> sweet blog, String of Pearls,</a> where she blogs about life as a mother to five grown boys, her faith, her writing, and the musings of her heart. The book is described on her blog as "a pro-life, pro-chastity, coming-of-age love story," which sounds really intriguing, doesn't it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Our story begins before Grace's high school Freshman year in the year 1972. A somewhat shy, bookish girl, lacking in overt gifts of physical beauty, or even grace, she nags at her father for having named her Grace when their last name is Kelly, and with no middle name to boot. The unfortunate lack of resemblance to the shining movie star only heightens Grace's feelings of awkwardness about her outward person. Grace's father, a merry but stern and overtly faithful man, reminds the young Grace that he named her so because of his feelings of God's generosity for giving them a girl after having five sons. He further explains that she was named for an obscure saint of the same name, and that he had no doubt that one day there would be another St. Grace, because he could see the beauty and grace of his own Grace's soul.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This small and endearing passage between father and daughter sets the tone for the novel as the ever mousy and insecure Grace enters high school with a new found determination to forge a relationship with God that will lead her to a life of holiness and happiness: a saint's life. The novel follows Grace through high school crushes, family struggles, strained friendships and hard lessons. Along the way Grace finds solace in contemplating the lives of characters in the books she so dearly loves (with a special attachment to <i>Pride and Prejudice), </i>reading the lives of saints and growing close to them in her heart as she attempts (and sometimes fails) to follow their example. As the reader anticipates, Grace's failures (and the failures of those around her) lead to painful and unnecessary consequences, but through God's grace and ever flowing desire for reconciliation and renewal, a happy ending is achieved. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Pearl's in-depth characterizations and study of the human heart are definitely the high-light of this endearing novel. Little Grace, in all her insecurities and hidden desires of the heart, her short comings and her successes, cannot but help to find a place in the reader's heart. Her best fried, Irene, the opposite of Grace in terms of outward and inward beauty, is treated by the author with no less grace, and the reader roots for her to become the person she truly is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I also particularly enjoyed the tales of saints, and the infusion of literary figures (Grace's analysis of their behavior) throughout the novel. Pearl deftly explores Grace's strengthening perception of right and wrong, desire and will, through evaluating the choices and consequences of those she reads about. And very cleverly, I might add. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The cover of <i>Finding Grace, </i>in all its pastel sweetness, is a bit misleading. I had assumed (based on the cover, shame on me!) this was a book I would read ahead of time in hopes that my 9 year-old AnneMarie would enjoy reading aloud with me as we talked through issues. Not so. The topics covered include Grace experiencing the first hand pain of a Holocaust survivor as well as very mature teenagerly topics such as underage drinking, premarital sex, adoption and abortion. Pretty heavy. This coupled with the length of the novel make this in no way suitable to a young mind. I think perhaps high school is the earliest I would recommend this, and is not at all too youthy for any adult.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I don't recall reading any books with such a theme when I was in high school, a time of great introspection and soul searching for me, as I am sure it is for many girls, although society would not lead us to believe this is true with the typical characterization of the rebellious, bubble headed and fad-driven teens we are continuously subjected to. I know that I would have appreciated and benefited from reading Grace's story during that awkward time, just as I benefited from reading it now!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Go check out <a href="http://www.housewifespice.com/2013/10/wwrw-300th-post-and-pope-awesome.html" target="_blank">Housewife Spice </a>to see what others are reading!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> <i> </i></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-79339049445735179452013-10-28T08:38:00.000-07:002013-10-28T08:38:43.975-07:00Smiley Faces<div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Yesterday our priest gave a pretty inspiring homily based on some <a href="http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/102713.cfm" target="_blank">pretty inspiring readings</a>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Remember, all you have is a gift! All you are and all you have has been freely given! And make no mistake, you grumblers," he pleaded with the congregation, "You are blessed!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And so goes the assigned Responsorial Psalm, "I will bless the Lord at all times, may his praise be ever in my mouth!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Amen, Amen, Amen! We are a stubborn people and in need of constant reminding. So, here is...</span></div>
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...Just some stuff that's been making us happy lately...</b></span><div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Momo pointing to the deep rut the ray dug on the shore, it was that big!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Obi was down at the beach with the kids the other day when I saw all this commotion surrounding a group of fishermen. I went down just in time to hear they had just let a giant stingray off his hook. Safe waters. The kids claimed it was as large as any they had seen in an aquarium, so beautiful to have seen in the wild, and it escaped unharmed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We have a special place in our hearts for the moon and its movements. I must say this fall has brought us the most beautiful moonscapes we have ever seen, this was taken on our front couch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm not going to tell you what Joseph is going to be for Halloween, but he's pretty excited about it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Something else The Family Es is partial to is street art of any kind. We love this guy. He works the Town Square in our tiny town. Always out there in the blazing sun in his silver get-up. He changes his bit all the time, sometimes he has a crazy stationary bike, or a crazy mouth whistle, but he's always silver and he always smiles.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He's just so dang cute!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Hard to see above, but when we looked in his suitcase this last time we saw this sweet plea: "Help me marry my mermaid, she said yes!" And then her pretty picture. There are a few mermaid shows around here. So fascinating, we humans. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>And finally...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In the most exciting news here, it has finally cooled down a little. A very little. In that we can open the windows at night. You have no idea of the relief. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">AnneMarie, in a slight exaggeration, trying to see her breath. It was about 68 degrees that morning. It's all relative. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>So...what's been making you smile lateley?</b></span></div>
Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1611085051173017244.post-34537995461664589832013-10-24T05:39:00.000-07:002013-10-24T05:39:44.207-07:00In Search of W<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Linking up with the <a href="http://www.clan-donaldson.com/" target="_blank">Clan for Theme Thursday: W!</a> What the what? Have I used that expression before, apologies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When I saw this on the list, I was so excited in an artsy-Sesame Street kinda way. But then when I and my literate children actually looked for some interesting W formation, we were stumped. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But then they decided to demolish the house two doors down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Pretty little 50s? house. So cute and sweet on its little sand dune. We got a flier in the mail from a real estate agent last week, just last week, stating he had sold the property for nearly <b style="font-size: x-large;">3 milyun bucks! </b>That's in real American dollars. Just a little concrete block fifties house. Why?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh,this is it's front yard. 150 feet of white sand Gulf. Bye bye 50s house, the economy thinks it's back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Looking up to the house from the beach, it has this cute little tiki hut. The kids have always been afraid to use this hut as a hideout because we didn't know who owned the house. They will be afraid no more, because there is no house. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Above is the beautiful faux stone porch I have admired since we moved here. Undoubtedly the scene of many, many years of memories of the good kind. The owners of those memories will never again feel their bare sandy feet against those slabs, their legs wet with salt water, backs burnt, eyes smiling at their siblings and mouths watering as their mama enters from the kitchen with a sweaty pitcher of lemonade. To get all sentimental.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">No more! Alas it is no more!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So me and the littluns were sure we would find some kind of W formation in all this rubble. Look at all that rebar! Not a W to be seen!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The scary snort at rest</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But then I saw this! Sad old shuffle board court, never to be played again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Doesn't it look forsaken and forlorn? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My babies pay tribute to the generations of ghosts that shuffled there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And we found this! The scary snort had just barely nipped the edge of the board, creating...a <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>W! </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Don't you see it? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You have no imagination. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That's a W. A little, lower case, kinda sweeping one. It is. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br />I think is stands for <b style="font-size: x-large;">W</b>recked. Or as Isaac would say <b style="font-size: x-large;">W</b>uined.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>Rebekah Eshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03418138677308359123noreply@blogger.com12