<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386</id><updated>2012-01-31T20:31:54.573-07:00</updated><category term='Humiliation'/><category term='Kids'/><category term='Maynardisms'/><category term='Kitchen Attempts'/><category term='Willardisms'/><category term='Reality Check'/><category term='Chickens'/><category term='Parenting'/><category term='Conversations'/><category term='Randomness'/><category term='Yoga'/><category term='Note to Self'/><category term='Photographs'/><category term='Issues'/><title type='text'>Thoughts and Things</title><subtitle type='html'>RANDOM THOUGHTS FROM A RANDOM WOMAN
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ran·dom /ˈrændəm/ 
–adjective 1. proceeding, made, or occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern:</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>145</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4389366185752587792</id><published>2011-11-18T00:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T03:17:42.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LIFE</title><content type='html'>Writing. It really isn't that difficult, is it? I find myself writing to my friends, family, and children, but I rarely take time to document LIFE. What really is there to say outside of the "normal"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take, for instance, our daily routine(or in my case-the lack of a daily routine). It consists of waking up, making breakfast for the boys and myself, then school at home. By the time lunch and school is done, Randy comes home and the boys flock to him each day like a chicken to scratch! The joy that erupts from them when they spend time with their father is a wonderful thing to observe. As I type, my heart is overflowing with how amazing my husband is with our sons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I digress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hang out at the house, talk about our day, we make dinner, the kids go to bed, and we head to bed as well.  We repeat the same thing day after day and it is strangely comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what has changed since my last entry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys are growing and learning. Our oldest is 8, our youngest just turned 6 last month. They wrestle, argue, play, learn, and laugh together. They truly are best friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy is still working hard. He is not looking forward to the winter weather, but he will get over it. (I hope!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The garden has come and gone. It was as fruitful as I was diligent. (Note to self... more diligence is needed for next year!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been changes in our flock size.  At the height of our somewhat temporary insanity, we had 24 birds. There were 4 Turkeys, 2 guineas, and 18 chickens. Currently we have 17 chickens total. We recently butchered 3 of the turkeys (one passed away before freezer camp day). The guineas were sold this summer to a local family. They were just too loud for our liking. The neighbor's dog (who unfortunately has uncooperative and indifferent owners) had his way with a few of the chickens over the last few months. However, we allowed 2 of the hens to hatch out babies. They (Clementine and E.D.) were born in August, and they are little stinkers! We also had replaced a few of the birds earlier in the year when we got the other fowl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been, overall, pretty good. September was a tough month, as both of my paternal grandparents passed away within 4 days of each other. A trip back to be with family was bittersweet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also been learning more with/about photography, and that is a nice respite. I am hoping to keep learning and getting out there and shooting. It excites me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been ups and downs, but overall, LIFE truly is good. There are so many people out there that have things worse than us. Of course, other things have happened in our small world, but they are nothing compared to other people's worlds. I can only pray that they will one day know what "this" feels like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4389366185752587792?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4389366185752587792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4389366185752587792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4389366185752587792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4389366185752587792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2011/11/life.html' title='LIFE'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-6686126688671188520</id><published>2011-01-12T01:22:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T02:16:20.855-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chickens'/><title type='text'>MIA</title><content type='html'>It's late.  And that is my problem!  I think of writing on here when it's late, and then I don't want to, because it turns into a big deal! So, I thought I would at least catch up with what has been going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been busy. Busy chasing chickens. Busy planning a garden. All of this and taking care of the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, the Family.  They are all amazing, and they are doing well.  My husband's job is working out well, and though it has been cold, he has been battling old man winter without too many complaints!  We have also been able to spend precious time with the In-Loves, and the boys enjoy getting to see their grandparents!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we have the chickens.  We got 7 6-month-old pullets at the end of October.  They have adjusted well to living here, and enjoyed getting grasshopper treats from the boys, who were designated grasshopper hunters. They had plenty of things to do and places to go, but they don't have full access to all of the yard...yet. Actually, I will be keeping them toward the south of the house, since I will be putting in a garden and I don't want them bumming around, digging up and eating my seedlings.  Now that it has been cold, they have been more confined, but they still go out bummin' through the snow, looking for something to peck at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, right before Thanksgiving, a friend of mine told me about a craigslist ad with some babies for sale.  I called regarding the ad and ended up getting some baby chicks!  They were 2 weeks old when I picked them up.  Then, a few weeks later, I got a call from the man I got the babies from and he wanted to know if I wanted 4 more. He was moving and wasn't able to keep the ones he had.  So here I am with 9 babies!  They are about 2 months old right now, and they live with the big girls, but in a separate side.  They do mingle when they go outside, but, again, the cold has been hindering their playtime outside.  They seem to get along pretty well when they are all together.  (I had a cute little picture of our *surprise* rooster, but it won't load!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there is, The Garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TS1nL24RefI/AAAAAAAAAFc/E1cP-FEVL-k/s1600/beanfis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TS1nL24RefI/AAAAAAAAAFc/E1cP-FEVL-k/s320/beanfis.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561214568280193522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was from my last garden-2 years ago this spring.  I miss digging in and getting my hands dirty.  Not to mention how wonderful it feels to know that I can use my time and energy toward providing good, healthy food for my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have been planning a garden.  And, with permission from my husband, he said, "Whatever makes you happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has been so loving and supportive with my crazy ideas, so I hope to provide him with some delicious food, and be able to teach the boys how to help the ground produce food!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, really, that is a majority of what I have been up to.  There is so much more to say, but it is late, and I must get to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-6686126688671188520?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/6686126688671188520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=6686126688671188520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6686126688671188520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6686126688671188520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2011/01/mia.html' title='MIA'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TS1nL24RefI/AAAAAAAAAFc/E1cP-FEVL-k/s72-c/beanfis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5324038744025741622</id><published>2010-10-20T00:13:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T02:28:15.541-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chickens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>I am Going to Explode!</title><content type='html'>We are in Montana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy has a good job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have been able to spend precious time with the In-Loves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am getting CHICKENS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so excited, I can barely contain myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the process of moving, I had to double check the ordinances in the area.  Fortunately for me, we are outside the city limits!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now that we are in the house and Randy is gainfully employed, I have been working on getting a shed converted into a coop. I am almost finished, and I am hoping to get 4-6 pullets (young hens) within a week. My goal is to have 12 hens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy wants nothing to do with them, but he has been very helpful with some of the conversion work. (Don't tell anyone I said that.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The goal for these hens is for me to "oversee" the operations, and the boys will be business owners. I will buy my eggs from them, and they have to pay for the expenses, and pay off any start-up costs.  Of course, I will do most of the work, but I really want them to know what it is like to earn money, run a business (guided by us), and learn all that while having fun with these ladies. They will be involved with the chores, and will be given more responsibility when they show they are capable, and they are both excited.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight they were playing chicken and grasshopper, since they were pumped to find out that CHICKENS love hunting GRASSHOPPERS just as much as they do. :) They just sat on the floor, pretending their hand was a chicken beak and the other one would hold out their finger as a grasshopper...too adorable!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5324038744025741622?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5324038744025741622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5324038744025741622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5324038744025741622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5324038744025741622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-am-going-to-explode.html' title='I am Going to Explode!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5955790316051524366</id><published>2010-07-24T19:31:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T20:18:10.697-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photographs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>Moving on up...</title><content type='html'>...to Montana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The decision was made this week, and we are hoping to be up there by this time next month.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Now, I try not to be a "Debbie-Downer", so here are a few things I am looking forward to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A kitchen table.  We have been without one for 5 years.  Oh, the conversations we have missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~My Father and Mother in-love. They will only be an hour away, and it will be nice for the boys (ok, and us too!)to spend some time with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Getting to re-connect with old friends. I miss their laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Having room for a garden. After having a small garden last year, and no ability to have one this year, I am really wanting to get my garden prepped for next spring! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Going through the upcoming trials and tribulations with my husband. Now, most people would think... WHAT? Why are you looking forward to that?  Well, last year was one of the best years in our marriage, but probably the worst year of our lives together. We grew together because of the trials.  I know that the rest of this year will have its own bumps in the road, but I know that we have been preparing for this our whole marriage-especially this past year.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I am not looking forward to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Moving away from my family, friends, and the area.  South Dakota has been my home for most of my adult life.  It will be hard to say goodbye to them. (But, I will hold back the tears as long as possible!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~My inability to relax easily in new situations. I have always been a little (ok, A LOT!) uptight. This can me grumpy. Fortunately, Montana also has this to help me relax: It isn't as close as it is here in South Dakota, but it isn't far away:  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TEuZrbFemSI/AAAAAAAAAEA/h4FFLJ8E10w/s1600/Wheelines.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TEuZrbFemSI/AAAAAAAAAEA/h4FFLJ8E10w/s320/Wheelines.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497656741419981090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mountains...They call me. (Usually they call me goofy names, but I won't repeat them here.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5955790316051524366?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5955790316051524366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5955790316051524366' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5955790316051524366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5955790316051524366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2010/07/moving-on-up.html' title='Moving on up...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TEuZrbFemSI/AAAAAAAAAEA/h4FFLJ8E10w/s72-c/Wheelines.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-7922349341129794664</id><published>2010-06-27T22:33:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T22:47:16.530-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Heebie-Jeebies</title><content type='html'>I don't think I could handle a bug crawling on my nose.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TCgm6A5YqyI/AAAAAAAAADw/ef91Z6L7VaA/s1600/DragonWillard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TCgm6A5YqyI/AAAAAAAAADw/ef91Z6L7VaA/s320/DragonWillard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487678924065909538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These two boys are just fascinated by bugs!  About 5 or 6 times a day, they come to the door to let me "see" what they caught!  (I don't let them bring anything into the house!) Today's catches were a slug, a dragonfly, worms, and potato bugs.  And they were only outside in the yard for about 2 hours, since it has been warm out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-7922349341129794664?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/7922349341129794664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=7922349341129794664' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7922349341129794664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7922349341129794664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2010/06/heebie-jeebies.html' title='Heebie-Jeebies'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TCgm6A5YqyI/AAAAAAAAADw/ef91Z6L7VaA/s72-c/DragonWillard.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4917773522504303591</id><published>2010-06-23T21:48:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T13:01:37.345-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Maynard</title><content type='html'>At this point in his life, if I had to list Maynard's Top Five list of things he loves, they would be (in no particular order):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Food.  Actually, this is probably always going to be #1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sticks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His wiener. (Is it this way for all boys?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything in the Animal Kingdom, especially BUGS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, he found this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Slug-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 375px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Slug-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was fascinated for quite some time, until he announced that he wanted to feed it to our turtle, John Denver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4917773522504303591?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4917773522504303591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4917773522504303591' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4917773522504303591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4917773522504303591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2010/06/maynard.html' title='Maynard'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-9222942698282205014</id><published>2010-06-23T10:23:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T22:43:45.282-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>Knock, Knock...</title><content type='html'>Is this thing on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't blogged in quite some time.  I have been spending most of my time with the kids and Randy, now that he is has a job locally.  I have enjoyed having him home, and the boys enjoy having another person to express how hungry they are!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear those two eat more than anyone I know!  And they are never "FULL"!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys are both getting big, and now that it is warm, they both spend a majority of their time outside.  Willard is all about reptiles and amphibians.  He was very sad when &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/11/face-only-mother-could-love.html"&gt;Slim&lt;/a&gt; died.  He probably had a lung infection.  He goes looking for garter snakes at any opportunity. Maynard has learned how to ride his bike without training wheels, but he always pedals for a little while, throws his bike down, and looks at bugs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We enjoyed our trip to Minnesota for Memorial Day weekend.  Along with a wedding and Willard's 7th Birthday over the weekend, there was a big potluck on Monday with hoards of children!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a Caterpillar that the kids were looking at during the potluck:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TCLg12wdgpI/AAAAAAAAADQ/hP9doxRJyqE/s1600/Caterpillar1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TCLg12wdgpI/AAAAAAAAADQ/hP9doxRJyqE/s320/Caterpillar1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486194511927149202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-9222942698282205014?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/9222942698282205014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=9222942698282205014' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/9222942698282205014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/9222942698282205014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2010/06/knock-knock.html' title='Knock, Knock...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/TCLg12wdgpI/AAAAAAAAADQ/hP9doxRJyqE/s72-c/Caterpillar1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-7481362437028738931</id><published>2010-01-02T21:04:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T22:11:52.150-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>Stepping into the Ring.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*no bloggers were hurt in the making of this post...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to this new year.  There are going to be so many changes...many trials...possibly more than there were this past year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am as ready as I can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't bore you with the details...you probably wouldn't believe me anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I journeyed into 2009 with an open mind...I was turning 30 after all, and I had looked forward to it.  It started like any other year of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little did we know-THIS would be our toughest year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/172bffc1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 224px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/172bffc1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To say 2009 "started off with a bang" is an understatement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/52826bda.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 225px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/52826bda.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, we did have many great days and moments. However, with all the trials, it seemed as though we had been airborne for quite a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/9bfa96cc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 225px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/9bfa96cc.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited for things to settle down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/951d77b5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 224px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/951d77b5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, even after landing, we understood that the trials ahead weren't going to be easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/c5e98c55.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 224px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/c5e98c55.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From narrow escapes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/626281b2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 225px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/626281b2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...to facing things head-on. (Even if we were a bit intimidated.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/9f0026b1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/9f0026b1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't stop trying...but we eventually got forced out of the ring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/ffc15103.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/ffc15103.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Of all of the things we have learned from this past year, this one seems to rise to the top:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be thankful to God for what you do have...regardless of the circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*Please forgive the shoddy pictures...they were captured from a video from when the author (yes, that really is me flying through the air) was 18, young, and possibly mentally incapacitated.  However...IT WAS A RUSH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-7481362437028738931?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/7481362437028738931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=7481362437028738931' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7481362437028738931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7481362437028738931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2010/01/stepping-into-ring.html' title='Stepping into the Ring.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2381495001209963871</id><published>2009-11-30T19:13:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T19:33:58.208-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>He Who Throws Stones...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;...must be a son of ours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week, the boys got to throw some rocks into a small stream.  After they got a few good throws in, I grabbed my camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SxR8PkE-czI/AAAAAAAAAB8/00BEwWwul7s/s1600/Willard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SxR8PkE-czI/AAAAAAAAAB8/00BEwWwul7s/s320/Willard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410085659203236658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked Willard to look at me, so I could take his picture, but he was SO EXCITED that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He.&lt;br /&gt;just.&lt;br /&gt;couldn't.&lt;br /&gt;take.&lt;br /&gt;his.&lt;br /&gt;eyes.&lt;br /&gt;off.&lt;br /&gt;the.&lt;br /&gt;next.&lt;br /&gt;rock...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is Maynard.  He was a stone throwin' fool.  And he had to pee.  Imagine the torment he had to go through...hold my wiener...throw a stone...hold my wiener...throw a stone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SxR_YT8tfwI/AAAAAAAAACM/-n0GelQy7ns/s1600/Maynard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SxR_YT8tfwI/AAAAAAAAACM/-n0GelQy7ns/s320/Maynard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410089108027309826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He eventually peed on a small sapling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy was "down shop" chopping wood and spending time with his Dad, and he had no desire to be stuck in a truck with me-the crabby ol' wench.  I sure have been crabby these last few days! So, I asked my Mother-in-Love to come with the boys and I into the mountains while we were up for Thanksgiving.   She was so patient with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These two shots were taken in Hannan Gulch, in the Rocky Mountains.  I put more "artsy-type" (as Randy would call them) photos from the week on my &lt;a href="http://cjwilliamsphotography.blogspot.com/"&gt;Photography Blog&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2381495001209963871?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2381495001209963871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2381495001209963871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2381495001209963871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2381495001209963871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/11/he-who-throws-stones.html' title='He Who Throws Stones...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SxR8PkE-czI/AAAAAAAAAB8/00BEwWwul7s/s72-c/Willard.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2072168996828730232</id><published>2009-11-15T15:55:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T16:21:07.084-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>A Face Only a Mother Could Love?</title><content type='html'>I like animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't consider myself an "Animal Lover", but...I like animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last month was Maynard's 4th Birthday, and that weekend, we took him to Dinosaur park.  He just loves going there, and it is also great exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started up the stairs and I saw something on the stairs.  Randy and I were trying to decide if we should pick it up, or if we should let it go...then, the boys noticed we had stopped, and they were all inquisitive. We asked a few people coming down the stairs if they knew of a certain riddle about SNAKES...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the little guy we adopted:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=5f0c0bbf.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/5f0c0bbf.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is a Great Plains Milk Snake, and he is probably less than a year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we got his home all settled in, we talked to the boys about the rhyme:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red touches yellow, you're a dead fellow.  Red touches black, you're OK Jack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They both went around telling people about him, saying...Red touches Yella, you're a dead fella!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at this face!  How adorable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=f462d8bd.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/f462d8bd.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is a darling little thing.  And honestly, I never knew I would actually ENJOY having a snake as a pet.  He is very inquisitive, when the heat lamp is off, and he is very tolerant of the boys.  They are allowed to hold him and, honestly, I use it as leverage.  If they choose to not listen, they don't get to hold him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some precautions about owning one though...he is a natural escape artist, and even though he can't reach the top of the tank yet, we are going to get some clamps here shortly.  We don't want him to get lost in this mess of a house! He also has bacteria on him that could make us sick, so we are very thorough with the hand washing...before and after!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His real name is Jack, but they call him Slim Cooley. (From Ghost Town at Sundown by Mary Pope Osbourne.)  His favorite food is crickets (for the moment) and he spends his evenings on long stretches up the glass, that eventually end in a topple over of some sort.  His favorite colors are red, black, and light yellow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=b27f8612.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/b27f8612.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2072168996828730232?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2072168996828730232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2072168996828730232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2072168996828730232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2072168996828730232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/11/face-only-mother-could-love.html' title='A Face Only a Mother Could Love?'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2165598454881727948</id><published>2009-09-27T23:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T23:46:36.531-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>Land Ho!</title><content type='html'>Remember when I commented on how we were &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/08/raising-sailors.html"&gt;raising sailors&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While working on the "s" sound and the "a" sounds today, my son says, matter-of-factly, Hey Mom, "a" (the short sound) and "s" make A**.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh dear, what have I done?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2165598454881727948?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2165598454881727948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2165598454881727948' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2165598454881727948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2165598454881727948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/09/land-ho.html' title='Land Ho!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4789756846287575817</id><published>2009-09-16T18:10:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T18:27:32.261-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>They are Definitely Related!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;*in my haste, this was actually posted on my other blog...whoops...I moved it here though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both the boys are very expressive.  Willard uses lots of words and motion, and he can't stand still-it isn't possible. Maynard uses emphasis and big gestures and big eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you ask Willard what he dreams about, be prepared:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up and I felt the ground shake (shaking his head back and forth)...I looked outside and it was a Tyrannosaurus Rex!  But it was a different Tyrannosaurus Rex...it had a sail on his back.  And then I went in the basement-we didn't live in this house-and I started to shiver (he shakes) and it wrecked right through the kitchen.  In the morning, everyone was killed, except our neighbors (they just moved in, and he is pumped about that), and not Trace (a friend of his).  Then I helped everyone build their houses back up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Maynard comes running out of the bathroom, arms spread out as wide as they can go, eyes big:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw a MASSIVE pider! So we TILLED it (slapping hand down), PITD (picked)it up, put it IN THE TOIWET (making a dropping motion), and FWUSHED it down!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4789756846287575817?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4789756846287575817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4789756846287575817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4789756846287575817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4789756846287575817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/09/they-are-definitely-related.html' title='They are Definitely Related!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2139840277442672355</id><published>2009-09-15T13:41:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T16:45:14.444-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Looks Innocent, Right?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=277d9581.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/277d9581.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We only have 1 bathroom.  We have a rule where, if someone is in the bathroom, and you can't hold it...&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;then&lt;/span&gt; you can pee outside.  This is a rare occasion, but it works...I mean...worked.  They are &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to pee next to the garage.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier, Willard was going poop.  Maynard went in there and told him he had to pee. I overheard and told him to go pee outside.  He gets his shoes on, and walks to the door.  The door opens.  It stays open.  Closing doors isn't common around here, and it seems around 30 times a day I have to bark at someone about shutting the door.  I glance up and bark...Shut the door!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I hear liquid.  On concrete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a second, I realized he was peeing on the sidewalk.  I hopped up to find him standing in the doorway of our back door, peeing.  My camera was laying on the counter, and I snapped two pics.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=d25d4b32.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/d25d4b32.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him why he didn't go out next to the garage.  He said, "It's too hot out 'dere."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=9c24fb1f.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/9c24fb1f.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least he missed the Welcome Mat!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2139840277442672355?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2139840277442672355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2139840277442672355' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2139840277442672355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2139840277442672355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/09/looks-innocent-right.html' title='Looks Innocent, Right?'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3205567968225628976</id><published>2009-09-01T21:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T21:51:33.698-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>Grasshoppers</title><content type='html'>They are EVERYWHERE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really like them, either.  I know they have their place, but, I prefer that place to be far away from me! I scream like a little girl when they land on me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever tried to walk with two boys down a sidewalk FILLED with grasshoppers?  Let me tell you...it takes forever.  But it is so darn cute when they "spook" them and they jump up and scare the pants off the boys....they yell out a squeal, then giggle, then find the next one.  Unfortunately, they have also become, how shall I put this..."less than benevolent" toward them, so inevitably, I have to grab their hands and guide them and keep saying "keep away from the grasshoppers!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you tried to walk past a flower garden with grasshoppers EVERYWHERE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=4a1c9b36.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/4a1c9b36.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(insert shiver here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do they look at me like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, I have figured out a way for all these critters to be kept under control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that there are many chicken farmers that keep their chickens locked up (not so much around here, but...go with me on this)...why not let the little birdies go free range for a while and plump-them-up the good old fashioned way!?  Maybe even get movable fences to protect them from predators...Just a thought.  Fresh air and exercise + grasshopper population decreasing = Win/Win Situation!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3205567968225628976?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3205567968225628976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3205567968225628976' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3205567968225628976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3205567968225628976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/09/grasshoppers.html' title='Grasshoppers'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-6068875734880385040</id><published>2009-09-01T08:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T08:30:00.277-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>One Tough Cookie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=22e0eb34.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/22e0eb34.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard is a climber.  Before he turned two, he was climbing up obstacles at the park.  He is no stranger to falling, bumping, and tripping.  He is also the younger brother, so he gets his fair share of "tough love" from Willard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing this inherited trait would manifest itself in many ways, when we decided to get "bunk" beds for the boys, we knew that the tall ones just wouldn't work.  We opted for the loft-style, where the top bunk is less than 5 feet off the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard sleeps on the top bunk.  Maynard sleeps on a mattress underneath, since he is always moving-even in his sleep!  Many mornings we (I use this term loosely, since, well, I sure like my sleep!) have found him sprawled out in the middle of the floor, snoozing away.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard is also very stubborn.  He has to be the one who decides what is going to occur in his little world.  Something as simple as, do you want the green bowl or the yellow bowl has turned into a nightmare, so, I just set out a couple and have him pick without saying a word...I've got to pick my battles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has been asked not to go on the top bunk, but being the strong-willed boy he is, he is determined to be up there.  He manages to bring all sorts of toys, sticks, blankets, up there too.  And shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before he went to bed last night, a crash is heard from the other room.  Not just a thud sort of crash, but a ting-tang, walla-walla-bing-bang crash.  It sounded as if he bounced back and forth between the wall, the door, the ladder, and the floor.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rushed to their room, almost before all his limbs were on the floor.  He is behind their closed door, so I had to push him over to get in.  I hunched down by him and he just laid there screaming.  I asked him to lay still and show me where it hurt.  He pointed to his forehead, and then crawled into my lap, and slowly, his crying slowed.  I sat quietly, and rocked him for a couple minutes.  Then he whimpered, "Tan you pwease det me oudda here?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked us up, and went to the living room.  I sat on the couch, and he, still in my lap, nestled up to me and peered into my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the emotions and memories of him as a young child came flooding back to me-instantly.  We had cuddled hundreds of times before last night, but because he is a ball of energy, the cuddles are but moments, wriggly, loud moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still and Quiet, (two words I don't think I have ever used to describe him) he laid there, looking at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if his fall scared him.  He nodded, still peering.  I said, "You must have been really scared."  He nodded again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept looking.  Then I realized something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He trusted me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This little boy, who earlier in the day, told me he hated me cause I wouldn't make him some toast before dinner, trusted me...The mother who makes him brush his teeth.  The mother who isn't a big fan of mud or mud puddles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't felt that "feeling" in over 2 years.   I stopped nursing him almost 2 years ago, and I guess I forgot what that feeling was like--the one where they look to you as their only sense of hope in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stared at each other, quiet and still, for a couple more minutes.  I kept an eye on his forehead for a mark, and his eyes...were they dilating correctly?  Slowly, his gaze shifted from my eyes to my neck.  He started asking what "dis" was, as he pulled on my neck, and "what's dis?" as he poked my collar bone.  Although, I felt 10 years older, I proceeded to tell him why my neck is the way it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that he is ready to talk I asked him, "Are you going to be okay?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sorta whined and said, "Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "You know, you are one tough cookie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He groaned, almost like he was giving in to a repeated demand..."OHHHHHTAAAAAY, I'll haf a tootie." (Said like cookie, but with the "t" sound.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chuckled a bit, partially because he thought I actually offered him a cookie.  (Which is another reason why he hates me, since I don't feed him a constant supply of tooties, especially right before bed!), but mostly because of the tone of his voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then tried to explain what the phrase "tough cookie" meant.  I think he really tried to understand, especially when I likened it to when you drop a cookie and it doesn't break.  Fortunately, he wasn't all that bummed about not getting this cookie, probably cause he wasn't in the mood to say, BUT MOooOOOmmMMMM...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as fast as he fell, he sat up, kissed me on the cheek (complete with smooch sound!), and jumped off my lap and went about his night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sure is one tough cookie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-6068875734880385040?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/6068875734880385040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=6068875734880385040' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6068875734880385040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6068875734880385040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-tough-cookie.html' title='One Tough Cookie'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4978130929892650250</id><published>2009-08-24T23:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T23:53:05.103-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>I wonder what he will get for Christmas?</title><content type='html'>Willard has been playing and wiggling this his loose tooth for a couple weeks now...to the point where it sorta creeped me out...as if it were going to land on me one day while he was talking. (And I am not even afraid of teeth!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lost it on Friday Afternoon:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=74efed20.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/74efed20.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sure looks cute, and he has a little lisp now too!  I am surprised I even got him to smile and stay still long enough to take his picture!  We were at the park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after it came out, Willard started talking about the Tooth Fairy.  I am sure that somewhere in the last few months he heard about "her", because this is the first tooth that he has mentioned her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, we are the crushers of all things magical.  No Santa Claus here people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we told him the truth, and he wanted to argue with us about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was half tempted to let him sleep with it under his pillow for a few days to see if she would have showed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after discussing it, he seemed OK with it, since, well, he was getting a dollar, instead of some measly quarter from a fake fairy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom = 1&lt;br /&gt;Tooth Fairy = 0&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4978130929892650250?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4978130929892650250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4978130929892650250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4978130929892650250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4978130929892650250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-wonder-what-he-will-get-for-christmas.html' title='I wonder what he will get for Christmas?'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3174504409925141246</id><published>2009-08-19T11:19:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T11:35:39.396-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Raising Sailors...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;After commenting about this on another blog, I thought I would post this here, since it is quite comical.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=e4e17fab.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/e4e17fab.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We try hard not to curse in front of the boys.  We are not perfect parents, and it happens.  In fact, the more we tell ourselves to stop cursing, the more we do it. The general rule for the boys is, if you are going to say "those" words, you can say them in their room so we cannot hear them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, Willard and Maynard were cleaning their room.  I got the vacuum out for them and Willard did half the room, and Maynard was vacuuming the other half.  There was a backpack on the floor, and Maynard asked Willard to..."move that son-of-a-B*#^%".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were sitting in the living room, looked at each other and just giggled.  He was, indeed, in his room. (Although, he was yelling because the vacuum was loud.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we told ourselves we NEED to stop swearing, etc...but the vicious circle continues!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3174504409925141246?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3174504409925141246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3174504409925141246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3174504409925141246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3174504409925141246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/08/raising-sailors.html' title='Raising Sailors...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3166727943269693160</id><published>2009-07-27T20:03:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T20:06:15.171-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Dinner Conversations</title><content type='html'>Maynard has been trying really hard to integrate into adult conversations.  He manages to come up with some clever ideas and thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight's Observation: The Ceiling Fan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That fan goes around just like a tornado.  But, its not a tornado, its a fan."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3166727943269693160?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3166727943269693160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3166727943269693160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3166727943269693160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3166727943269693160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/07/dinner-conversations.html' title='Dinner Conversations'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-7119687192779364723</id><published>2009-07-15T13:50:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T14:02:42.307-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>And P...</title><content type='html'>Listening to Maynard sing the alphabet..."ABCDEFG, HIJK(tay) LMNO and P, QRS, TUV, WX(ets), Y and Z.  Now I know my ABCs, next time wont you sing with me?...beep beep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=ed141bcd.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/ed141bcd.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-7119687192779364723?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/7119687192779364723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=7119687192779364723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7119687192779364723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7119687192779364723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/07/and-p.html' title='And P...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-1647949754552614659</id><published>2009-07-13T21:40:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T23:07:28.627-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Willard tells a story.</title><content type='html'>Our oldest son has been making up some crazy stories...He will be the PERFECT fisherman!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is one from tonight, during dinner:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back when we were in Montana, near Spearfish, I saw lightning hit a house, and inside were 3 kids, Carlin (cause he likes cars, so car...and lin...cause that is what his nickname is), Junior, and Picky (cause he likes to pick things off trees)...There were 20 people in the town.  The kids hid underneath the table, and they had cuts and scratches that were made by the nails under the table and they came out ok...no one was injured in the whole town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there was this little boy named Sarah, and he was 2 and he lost his family at the store, because they were startled from the thunder...He lived in a house that was green with a blue roof. After the storm, he saw a police.  The police saw him sad, and brought him home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The neighbors had four kids.  Nick, Jason, Marlin Junior, and Salty (cause he likes to eat salt for breakfast.). Then, when they woke up, it was nice and quiet, then they hear (he makes a siren sound). The police station had a siren that goes around in different directions...They look out their window...it was an F5 tornado...it kept getting closer and closer and closer and then it smashed through the basement and through their house, but they were in the closet...When they woke up, the whole neighborhood was beestroyed, and there was still debris falling from the sky, and the flood was still running fast, and they had 16 trampolines to pick from.  And they had a big house with 3 bathrooms.  After 16 days, they were going to move to Rapid City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after Willard tells his story, Maynard has to tell one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(A recap of Willard's story:)&lt;br /&gt;I saw a human in a store, and I saw somebody lost, and then there was a police.  He took him to his home...it was a long story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time he wanted to go swimming with fish, and he saw a fish jump up. And he had a long fish, and it jumped up, and he throwed it over there, and he caught it, and he pulled it up, but it was too heavy.  But he got it up, but it was bad, and it had sharp teeth!  It was a grouper.  And he cutted the teeth off...that's funny...then he ate his eyes, then he ate his face, then he cooked him up for his family, then he ate him.  Then he wanted to catch a whole bunch.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=31b936c3.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/31b936c3.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-1647949754552614659?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/1647949754552614659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=1647949754552614659' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/1647949754552614659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/1647949754552614659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/07/willard-tells-story.html' title='Willard tells a story.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-378402987515346243</id><published>2009-07-05T22:24:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T22:30:04.087-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Fireworks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=9c3b7777.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/9c3b7777.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, while watching the fireworks, Maynard found a cricket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=c966a469.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/c966a469.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess he was chasing it around, trying to get it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=0a240c0a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/0a240c0a.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ran over to me, (knowing that I am not a big fan of crickets) and said loudly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom!......If I see that cricket......and it comes over to you...... I'll KICK IT IN THE FACE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=5ba7e137.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/5ba7e137.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-378402987515346243?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/378402987515346243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=378402987515346243' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/378402987515346243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/378402987515346243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/07/fireworks.html' title='Fireworks'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-640847099512897468</id><published>2009-06-18T13:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T14:04:06.080-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Thighs...</title><content type='html'>It is amazing how innocent Willard is when he slaps my thigh and when I asked him why, he says, "I like the effects of it...how it jiggles."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on, Maynard kept sneezing...Come to find out, he stuck a bead up his nose...(we got it out...) When I asked him why, he said, "so it will stop the bleeding."  I don't even remember the last time he had a bloody nose...odd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-640847099512897468?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/640847099512897468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=640847099512897468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/640847099512897468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/640847099512897468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/06/thighs.html' title='Thighs...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2308573122262850091</id><published>2009-06-08T12:36:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T12:37:58.523-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>If I Ever Get Mad...</title><content type='html'>Willard came up to me holding a picture from our wedding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "If you ever get mad, just look at this." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him, "Is it supposed to do something?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "It will make you happy." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't agree more! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, Randy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2308573122262850091?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2308573122262850091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2308573122262850091' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2308573122262850091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2308573122262850091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/06/if-i-ever-get-mad.html' title='If I Ever Get Mad...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4560709313124514778</id><published>2009-05-18T10:09:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T10:16:45.218-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photographs'/><title type='text'>Photos from the Weekend Pt. 2</title><content type='html'>I am at it again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=railcarsbrdr-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/railcarsbrdr-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=rcarbrdr-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/rcarbrdr-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=trnbrdr-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/trnbrdr-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=engnrbrdr-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/engnrbrdr-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=cndctrbrdr-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/cndctrbrdr-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=tracksbrdr-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/tracksbrdr-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4560709313124514778?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4560709313124514778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4560709313124514778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4560709313124514778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4560709313124514778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/05/photos-from-weekend-pt-2.html' title='Photos from the Weekend Pt. 2'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-290409481169524770</id><published>2009-05-03T18:48:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T19:03:23.893-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Photos from the Weekend</title><content type='html'>I have a few photos to share from this weekend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A blue flower near Rapid Creek:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=Blueflower.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Blueflower.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A daffodil from down the street:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=Daff.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Daff.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More daffodils:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=daff2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/daff2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tulip from our front yard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=Tulip-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Tulip-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard playing at the park:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=cam-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/cam-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard playing at the park:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=hay.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/hay.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some random stranger that was a product of my camera focusing wrong at the last second:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;current=strangeman-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/strangeman-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-290409481169524770?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/290409481169524770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=290409481169524770' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/290409481169524770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/290409481169524770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/05/photos-from-weekend.html' title='Photos from the Weekend'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4078791242431786630</id><published>2009-04-28T12:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T12:17:18.919-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>You Can't Handle the Truth!</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting on the couch, leaning over my laptop on the coffee table...Maynard comes up behind me and grabs my love handles and asks me..."Why are dees so bid?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHH KIDDDDDSS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4078791242431786630?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4078791242431786630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4078791242431786630' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4078791242431786630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4078791242431786630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-cant-handle-truth.html' title='You Can&apos;t Handle the Truth!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-9061635846953628577</id><published>2009-04-26T19:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T19:17:59.443-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Traveling</title><content type='html'>We went to Montana for a few days this last week.  We got back last night.  After the boys went to bed, Randy and I snuggled on the couch and then went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, Willard comes up to Randy and says, "Guess what happened on the way home daddy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy: "What happened?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Williard: "I spewed in the car.  I think its because I ate too much"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since when is it called "spewing"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, I had purchased a dish pan tub so they could keep their toys/water bottles/sunglasses in, and he used that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-9061635846953628577?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/9061635846953628577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=9061635846953628577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/9061635846953628577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/9061635846953628577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/04/traveling.html' title='Traveling'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4491926111733083991</id><published>2009-04-22T23:32:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T23:54:31.867-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Snakes</title><content type='html'>This past weekend at the Kid's Fair, we got to see an informational teaching on snakes.  Our boys were enthralled, hanging on every word the instructor (who also happens to be a friend of ours) said.  They learned about snakes (More specifically: The Garter Snake and the Rattlesnake) that live in South Dakota, and how you can tell the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday Morning, I overheard Willard and Maynard chatting (This is my new hobby!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard: Do you know how to tell the difference between a rattlesnake and a gard'ner snake?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard: Uh Huh!&lt;br /&gt;    (Even though Maynard says he knows, Willard continues:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard: Well, see, a rattlesnake has a long tail and a short neck, and a gard'ner snake has a long neck and a short tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He keeps going:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know why he is called a gard'ner snake?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard: Ummmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard: A gard'ner snake is called that because it likes to live in the garden.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4491926111733083991?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4491926111733083991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4491926111733083991' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4491926111733083991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4491926111733083991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/04/snakes.html' title='Snakes'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-6302571243910290012</id><published>2009-04-17T00:38:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T01:49:54.549-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humiliation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>5k-illing me!</title><content type='html'>Remember when you were little...when someone pushed you on the swing until you went so far up into the sky felt as though you were soaring?  Then, on the way back down, it felt like your stomach was going to shoot out through your face?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still need a push sometimes. A thrill, a goal, a reward.  So...here I sit, with sore calves, thighs, and cheeks, and it might just be the death of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never been a "runner". I was good at running across the road to my cousin's house, or even down the road a bit to my Grandparent's house.  In grade school,(before my thighs started touching), I probably was a fast little squirt, but honestly, I don't remember much from that time.  Maybe its because I ran right into one of my cousins, at full speed...I may have knocked a screw loose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to think of it...I never really *had* to run.  I only had to run a few feet for the vault in Gymnastics.  I was even in Track and Field my junior year at VHS.  But I did the "Field" part.  One of my only memories of those few weeks was when I pulled both my quad muscles trying to sprint/race one of my coaches to the concession stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't run. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why did I start training for a 5k?  I have no idea.  It sounded like a good idea at the time.  But, its seems I am &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; most hideous runner out there.  I stomp, breathe really heavy, and the "girls" bounce everywhere.  (Is there some sort of tape or something that can hold them two down?  My sport bras don't seem to work all that well.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even catch myself *attempting* to sing along to the odd array of songs I have on my MP3 player.  One of the trainers at the gym was actually surprised I had music from 2009 (Michael Buble', Maroon 5, etc).  He thinks I am stuck in the past.  But really, I just don't get out much.  And I like music from the 60's 70's and 80's!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poor people at my gym probably cringe when they see me.  They had every intention on freeing their mind, reducing stress, and getting in shape.  But instead they are stuck next to me...a sweaty, stomping, panting, middle aged lady.  One who can't keep her boobs from attacking each other and sings odd 80's songs (like, Putting on the Ritz, by Taco) while spilling water on herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They will have their revenge though...once I am out on the open run, they will pass me and say, eat my dust or something like that.  I just hope they don't fart.  'Cause I would laugh so hard, I'd start to cackle, and you can't cackle to Cruel Summer...that would be just wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-6302571243910290012?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/6302571243910290012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=6302571243910290012' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6302571243910290012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6302571243910290012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/04/5k-illing-me.html' title='5k-illing me!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4492373836421048688</id><published>2009-04-08T22:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T22:45:28.321-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>Fun in the Snow!</title><content type='html'>Over the last few weeks, we have had 3 snow storms.  We are under a Winter Weather Advisory" as well, until tomorrow night.  Love this weather!  (I hope you can sense my sarcasm!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend, we all went outside and decided to make a luge course in our little back yard.  We had a blast!  Below are some videos of us taking advantage of the white stuff!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="448" height="361" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/MOV08028.flv"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="448" height="361" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/MOV08029.flv"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="448" height="361" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/MOV08024.flv"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Myself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="448" height="361" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/MOV08025.flv"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wish the course would have lasted a little longer.  We would have played forever, except we were hungry!  The snow has melted most of the bottom part, but it was the most fun I have had in the snow in over a decade! (Yes, I am that old!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4492373836421048688?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4492373836421048688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4492373836421048688' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4492373836421048688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4492373836421048688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/04/fun-in-snow.html' title='Fun in the Snow!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3009082622808023378</id><published>2009-04-06T15:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T16:04:14.670-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>OSTRICH ME!</title><content type='html'>Since we have had these 3 snow storms these last few weeks, I have felt just bleh.  I want to stick my head in the snow and wait for the plow to accidentally jump the curb and plow through my living room so there will at least be a path!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was joking with a friend this morning about my house and that if someone tried to loot it, they probably couldn't find anything anyway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, if someone walked into my home, they would think that it had just been robbed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just threw out 2 broken glasses that were in the dust pan.&lt;br /&gt;I just ran 2 loads of dishes, and the counters are still filled with crap.&lt;br /&gt;I need to tackle my dirty clothes piles, but they might just tackle me.&lt;br /&gt;I am surrounded by calculator printouts and tax forms.&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to get my computer cleaned out so it doesn't take forever!&lt;br /&gt;My bedroom looks like I have been hoarding paper for years.&lt;br /&gt;The last time I used my sewing machine, I was mending. (Still fun though!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a lousy everything...Wife, Mother, Friend, Daughter, Sister, Cousin, Aunt, etc, etc, etc..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I have lost 17 lbs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess there is some good news!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3009082622808023378?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3009082622808023378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3009082622808023378' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3009082622808023378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3009082622808023378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/04/ostrich-me.html' title='OSTRICH ME!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-559093084898949137</id><published>2009-03-27T11:55:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T12:19:14.775-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>The Good, The Bad, and the Blue.</title><content type='html'>Today, I had to run a quick errand, and the sun is shining bright!  (Take that Blizzard!)  The boys wanted me to take them for a pedal bike ride.  I explained to them that I needed to clean the house today, and that it was too cold anyhow.  Willard asked me if he could help, and I said, sure, if he wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we passed by a blue mustang, and Willard said, "Look mom, a blue mustang!  Blue is Dad's favorite color!"  I said, "Yes, Willard, blue is Dad's favorite color, but if he could, he would prefer an Electric Blue Mustang.  Its brighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard says..."Well I would like an Automatic Blue Mustang, cause it shifts for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after all this, Willard and Maynard are having a conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard: Do you want the good news or the bad news? (He is saying this in a somber sort of voice.)&lt;br /&gt;Maynard: Da bad news.&lt;br /&gt;Willard: If we help mom around the house, we won't get to play.&lt;br /&gt;Maynard: Oh Tay. What's the dood news?&lt;br /&gt;Willard: The good news is, if you want to play instead of help...well that is what the good news is!&lt;br /&gt;Maynard: Oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when we got home, I asked Maynard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: So, I hear there is good news and bad news."&lt;br /&gt;Maynard: Uh Huh.  The bad news is, we don't wanna help you.  The dood news is, we wanna help you.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: So, which news is it?  The dood news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Optimist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-559093084898949137?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/559093084898949137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=559093084898949137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/559093084898949137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/559093084898949137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-bad-and-blue.html' title='The Good, The Bad, and the Blue.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3258911544116436656</id><published>2009-03-21T22:54:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T23:02:19.820-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Sparkles.</title><content type='html'>Willard has been FULL of his fun phrases lately!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, when I look in the mirror, I hope to be excited for my *sparkles*!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday after playing in the dirt all afternoon, I gave the boys a quick shower. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was helping them get dried off, Maynard looks at his wet, wrinkly hands and says with big wide eyes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look Mom!  My hands are sparkly!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really?", I ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, and my feet have sparkles too!"  He exclaims, as he tips up on the outside of he feet to look at the bottoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to tell these stories to his kids!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3258911544116436656?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3258911544116436656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3258911544116436656' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3258911544116436656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3258911544116436656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/03/sparkles.html' title='Sparkles.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3391142517639498199</id><published>2009-03-12T14:09:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T14:12:55.131-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>A Great Maynardism</title><content type='html'>Today, I was putting clothes into the washer, and Maynard came up to me and said politely...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the hell are you doing, Mom?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a bit surprised, but I remained calm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Boy, Son, maybe you should ask me a different way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he said, without missing a beat:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me, Mom.  What the hell are you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to chuckle about that all day long!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3391142517639498199?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3391142517639498199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3391142517639498199' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3391142517639498199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3391142517639498199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/03/great-maynardism.html' title='A Great Maynardism'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8879045934012570289</id><published>2009-02-10T21:31:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T22:15:01.261-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kitchen Attempts'/><title type='text'>Venison Recipe</title><content type='html'>I adapted this recipe from my friend &lt;a href="http://www.godsthunder.blogspot.com/"&gt;Nancy&lt;/a&gt;'s brine recipe that she made for a MOPS meeting this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the thawed venison, rinsed it well, and placed it into a vacuum sealer container.  This recipe will work in a bowl as well, as long as the bowl or container is large enough to fill with enough water to cover the meat.  Also, make sure you have room to put it into your fridge over night or longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used about 10 oz of steak meat for this recipe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Place the following into a small glass or cup:&lt;br /&gt;1 Tbsp Salt (Sea Salt is what I used)&lt;br /&gt;1 Tbsp Sugar &lt;br /&gt;1 tsp Pepper&lt;br /&gt;2 Cloves of Minced Garlic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add some warm water and stir until mostly dissolved.  Pour the mixture over the meat and add enough water to cover the meat and cover the container with plastic wrap or a lid.  If you are using a vacuum sealer, vacuum seal it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Place into the fridge and leave there overnight.  I left mine in longer, since it was harder for me to do it during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right before cooking, take the meat out of the brine and pat dry.  Drain the brine, except for the pepper and garlic...save it for later...  Place the meat onto a cutting board or plate and sprinkle this side with pepper and garlic powder (not garlic salt).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take your pan and put a little bit of EVOO in it and turn it on high.  Wait for the pan to get just about smokin, then place the meat, seasoned side down in the pan.  Sprinkle this other side with pepper and garlic powder.  By the time you are done seasoning this side, the other side will be browned.  Using Tongs, flip the meat over to brown the other side.  If you are making a roast, turn to brown all sides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never made a roast with this recipe, but, if you have made any other kind of roast, I would assume you make it the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, both sides of the steaks are browned...now, turn the heat down to medium and add one medium onion, diced up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the onions get semi-transparent, add about 2.5 cups of water to make the gravy.  Also, add the bits and pieces from the brine that you saved from earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The water will come to a rolling boil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a tablespoon or so (I am amazed I can even cook with these sort of measurements) of corn starch and place it into a glass.  Add a bit of cold water so that it makes a watery mixture.  Add this slowly, a little bit at a time, while stirring it.  Corn starch will thicken when it gets to boiling temperature.  Keep adding more mixture until it's thick enough for your family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check the meat...venison is best done when it is medium well.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep in mind that I don't add salt other than in the brine, since I add it at the table.  If you cook with salt, don't salt the meat until it is browned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We enjoy ours over smashed potatoes (boiled potatoes, smashed with a potato masher, no butter or milk added) with steamed broccoli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you like this as much as we do!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8879045934012570289?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8879045934012570289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8879045934012570289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8879045934012570289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8879045934012570289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/02/venison-recipe.html' title='Venison Recipe'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3418792320393067186</id><published>2009-02-07T20:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T20:25:39.256-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Note to Self'/><title type='text'>Note to Self...</title><content type='html'>Always, Always, Always make sure the toilet seat is down before you sit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3418792320393067186?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3418792320393067186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3418792320393067186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3418792320393067186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3418792320393067186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/02/note-to-self.html' title='Note to Self...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-341495346208174080</id><published>2009-01-13T21:05:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T21:22:22.722-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Do as I say, not as I do...</title><content type='html'>My husband and I have a very unique relationship.  Unique in the way that we react to each other, ask each other questions, talk to each other, and tease each other.  He pretends to be the male chauvinist, and I pretend to be the slave wife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of Randy's famous phrases that he uses on all of us (remember this is all in jest), is: Hey Hon (or Son, if he is talkin' to the kids), I got a job for you...(then he would say something like, go to kitchen and grab the remote for me, or run out to the truck and get me my hat, or something along those lines.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now understand that my husband is very polite, and has great manners, but because the two of us mesh so well with each other I instinctively just do them (with a snarled face, or a curtsy or something).  More often than not, he is joking, and just wants to see if he can get me to do things.  The boys, well, they just like helping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, after dinner, Willard was offered a cookie since he finished his dinner. Randy and I normally have a glass of milk with our cookies (is that where the pounds have come from?) so he walks up to me and says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Mom, I gotta job for you.  Why don't you go to the fridgerator and get me a glass of milk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a bit stunned, and tried to keep a straight face.  I ducked behind my husband, got my giggling and grinning out of the way, then offered to let him dunk his cookie in our milk, since there was NO WAY I was getting up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids I tell ya!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-341495346208174080?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/341495346208174080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=341495346208174080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/341495346208174080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/341495346208174080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/01/do-as-i-say-not-as-i-do.html' title='Do as I say, not as I do...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8318143087098259294</id><published>2009-01-12T19:13:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T19:24:57.344-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Noses Stay.</title><content type='html'>Maynard has a runny nose...allergy related.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy was grabbing a tissue, and asked him, "Is your nose running?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard said, "No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad says, "Is it walking?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is it jogging?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, Dad.  It isn't runeen, whauteen, or joddeen, it tays."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noses "stay" I guess =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8318143087098259294?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8318143087098259294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8318143087098259294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8318143087098259294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8318143087098259294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/01/noses-stay.html' title='Noses Stay.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2025283341064015091</id><published>2009-01-10T16:30:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T16:37:27.530-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>My Helper</title><content type='html'>Today, Maynard came with me to clean our church.  He was on mirror duty.  He was pretty excited to help, and, despite the little grubby handprints that I had to wipe off afterward, he did great.  He also emptied all the garbage cans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after helping me today, I thought he might want to help me put a load of our clothes in the wash.  He and Willard already are responsible for their laundry-for everything except the soap...I just haven't figured out a way for them to do that without making a mess.  Normally, neither of them have issues with this chore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, when I asked him, "Maynard, would you like to help me with a load of clothes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replied, "yeeeeeeee(think "e")eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeno."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess he had to think about that for a few seconds!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2025283341064015091?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2025283341064015091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2025283341064015091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2025283341064015091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2025283341064015091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-helper.html' title='My Helper'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2631575014504946053</id><published>2008-12-31T18:07:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T18:10:57.123-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Happy New Milky Wave</title><content type='html'>I hope each and everyone of you enjoy ushering in a new year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys got WALL-E for Christmas.  It is a cute movie. During one of the scenes, WALL-E is in outer space, and can see a galaxy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today while watching it, Willard says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"MOM, LOOK!  The MILKY WAVE!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWWWW!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2631575014504946053?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2631575014504946053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2631575014504946053' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2631575014504946053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2631575014504946053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/12/happy-new-milky-wave.html' title='Happy New Milky Wave'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4624924865274882834</id><published>2008-12-18T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T16:15:17.965-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>This Christmas</title><content type='html'>Dear loved ones,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the hustle and bustle of the year, I am constantly reminded of our parenting choices.  Only in eternity will we know the end result of our choices, but we pray that we make the right ones. For example, during Halloween, we chose not to get dressed up this year, but told our kids that some people do get dressed up for Halloween, and that's ok.  We have in the past, and might in the future, but this year we didn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple weeks ago, our oldest son saw a Christmas Tree and commented that it must be Halloween because the tree was decorated.  I explained to him that some people put trees up and decorate them.  We have before, and we might again, but this year we didn't. We also decided to forgo a large Christmas with all the gifts and the wrapping paper and the hoopla, and do small outings as a family and have family memories and a small gift at each outing instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we started our family, my husband and I have chosen to tell the boys that Santa isn't real.  Not only because of the real meaning of Christmas, but because we decided we just weren't going to do it.  We just both came to that conclusion...I am not telling you you should or should not tell your children about Santa, but after reading &lt;a href="http://postsecret.blogspot.com"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;, I thought it was a great thought provoking statement, that leads me to thankfulness:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quoted:&lt;br /&gt;"I'm thankful that I was never told that Santa was real when I was growing up. Every Christmas, I always knew that the presents I received were from people who knew exactly how good or bad I'd been in the past year, and loved me anyway."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which then reminds me...God loves us no matter how good or bad we are.  Our sins are not an issue with God.  He sent His SON to live as a man on earth, so HE could DIE for our sins-all of them.  He took our sins out of the way, so that we could have eternal life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All we need to do is believe it!  Nothing else is required for salvation!  I hope as each of you celebrate the birth of our Saviour-the LORD Jesus Christ, that you also rejoice and remember WHY he came, and WHAT he did for us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas from our family to yours!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4624924865274882834?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4624924865274882834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4624924865274882834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4624924865274882834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4624924865274882834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/12/this-christmas.html' title='This Christmas'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-1398310884410444871</id><published>2008-11-27T12:10:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T12:27:03.407-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>Relaxing on Thanksgiving.</title><content type='html'>I am having a pretty relaxing Thanksgiving.   I know I haven't blogged for a while, but I sometimes have the best intentions...But, intentions don't replace actions.  I am so thankful for so many things.  My husband, my kids, my family.  There are so many things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am taking a break from getting my stuffing in the crockpot, turkey in the oven, and dishes in the sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is our first Thanksgiving where no one will be here but us.  We invited our nephew, but I believe he will be having dinner with his girlfriend's family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brined my turkey this year.  We were given, sort of as a Christmas bonus, a Hutterite turkey.  I really hope it turns out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I did take some pictures of the process.  I will get them uploaded and share my non-expertise with whoever wants to read...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my menu for the day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turkey&lt;br /&gt;Mashed Potatoes and Gravy&lt;br /&gt;Yams (many people call them sweet potatoes)&lt;br /&gt;Stuffing&lt;br /&gt;Green Beans&lt;br /&gt;Pumpkin Pie&lt;br /&gt;Egg Nog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I am off to make Pie Crust...and be thankful...Most of all, thankful for Christ's finished work on the cross.  Thankful that God doesn't see sin as the issue.  Thankful that the only thing that separates us from God is rejection of our Lord's Complete and Finished work on the Cross on our behalf.  He died FOR our sins.  He was buried...raised for our JUSTIFICATION!  He did it ALL, all we need to do is believe it!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you God for providing a way for mankind to be reconciled to you!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh...and thanks for Egg Nog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-1398310884410444871?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/1398310884410444871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=1398310884410444871' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/1398310884410444871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/1398310884410444871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/11/relaxing-on-thanksgiving.html' title='Relaxing on Thanksgiving.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-889586249659028854</id><published>2008-11-08T21:41:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T21:54:15.795-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Knock Knock Genius!</title><content type='html'>Tonight, Willard and I were at a birthday party at the local swimming pool.  After we got done swimming, we went into the little changing/shower room.  I took my turn in the shower, and Willard and I were saying knock knock jokes to keep him from opening the curtain.  He kept saying...knock knock.. (I'd say, who's there?) Showereee...  (showereee who?)  Showereeee is funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after I took my shower, I grabbed my towel and we traded spots.  I started drying off and it was my turn to start.  My favorite knock knock joke is the banana one.  Here is how our conversation went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Willard.  Knock, Knock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W: Who's there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Banana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W: Banana who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Knock, Knock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W: Who's there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Banana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W: Banana Who.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This went on a couple more times.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Willard was sorta getting bored/irritated...so I thought it was time for the orange part....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Knock, Knock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard pauses.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W:  Maybe you should use the doorbell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just started giggling...He doesn't even know he is funny!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-889586249659028854?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/889586249659028854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=889586249659028854' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/889586249659028854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/889586249659028854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/11/knock-knock-genius.html' title='Knock Knock Genius!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8786963633068498812</id><published>2008-11-02T22:06:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T22:13:27.775-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>U</title><content type='html'>You may or may not have noticed that I haven't blogged in a while...Chaos...That is why. I will explain more, when I have more time! Among all the chaos of the last few weeks...my loving husband still makes me smile...how???  Things like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I was in a grumpy mood.  I was trying to snap out of it, but nothing seemed to be wokring.  I was talking about numbers and I asked him what his favorite number was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't have one, but I have a favorite letter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?  A favorite letter but not a favorite number.  Well, that's silly.  What is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"U!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWWWWWWW!  I just grinned.  And smiled.  And grinned...and smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8786963633068498812?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8786963633068498812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8786963633068498812' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8786963633068498812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8786963633068498812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/11/u.html' title='U'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3889260214785902250</id><published>2008-09-21T14:49:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T15:02:12.119-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>I'm a Hypocrite!</title><content type='html'>Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading a post from &lt;a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and she was talking about having a hidden camera in her hotel room where people would be watching her every move...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to thinking:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine a hidden camera in one room, and a camera you knew about in another.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where would you go to "just be yourself"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How soon would it take for you to forget about the one you knew about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How long would you spend in that room?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How would your "behavior" change in the room with the camera you knew about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what my answers are. I am not surprised either. (Romans 7:15-21)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3889260214785902250?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3889260214785902250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3889260214785902250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3889260214785902250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3889260214785902250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-hypocrite.html' title='I&apos;m a Hypocrite!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2604185762098227816</id><published>2008-09-17T22:27:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T22:29:09.572-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Note to Self'/><title type='text'>Note to Self.</title><content type='html'>Do NOT tip a bag of Jalapeno Chips up to dump the crumbs into your mouth, unless you have your eyes CLOSED!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2604185762098227816?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2604185762098227816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2604185762098227816' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2604185762098227816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2604185762098227816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/09/note-to-self.html' title='Note to Self.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5538764470124420106</id><published>2008-09-10T11:47:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T12:25:17.683-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><title type='text'>I LOVE MY HUSBAND!</title><content type='html'>Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, other than the fact that he is handsome, funny, intelligent, kind, giving, oh, and AWESOME...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is teaching our boys how to be a great husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the farthest thing from a feminist.  In fact, I might just be a male chauvinist.  Men are so trampled on these days that it saddens me greatly. I am very troubled about this and the future of my sons.  I pray that they will have the patience and wisdom to find a woman who treats them with respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are just a couple examples that I can think of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The home improvement store commercial where the husband is reluctant to get the roof on the house done, but the wife basically gives him "the look" and he is so afraid of the consequences that he does it.  (Wonder if she made him charge it...)The commercial goes on to show the fence and the back yard...(In real life, most of our homes don't look nearly as immaculate as the home they were in.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is the commercial where the guy's bike is in the shop, and he is sitting on the couch, in full motorcycle gear.  He is folding towels for his wife (she probably demanded that he did it) and she comes over belittling him because he isn't folding them the way she wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am glad I have a DVR so I can fast forward through these commercials!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also just watched a preview of a (probably will be a great) movie about a man who is trying to keep his marriage together (it doesn't show the reasons why the marriage is troubled), and granted, I haven't seen the movie yet (I think we might go to it), but the trailer didn't show the woman's part in working at it as well, it just showed her annoyance as to his attempts to make it work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men have an uphill battle when it comes to women these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not saying that I have never been less than pleasant with my husband (in fact, in our earlier years of marriage, I did have a serious problem with my attitude toward my husband).   I have learned over the years that when you LOVE (verb!) your husband, he will do anything for you.  You won't have to nag a million times.  However, I still fail all the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to my wonderful husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He compliments me.  I am not one to take a compliment well.  I generally roll my eyes or make a funny face.  It's just how I deal with it.  However, no matter how many times I roll my eyes, my husband still does it.  (Deep down, I do appreciate it, but don't tell him!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my husband is home, the boys are always around us.  They get to witness a great husband in action.  (I am working on the great wife part!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boys got into my makeup bag the other day.  Willard was applying lip shimmer to Maynard as I walked in. They started defending themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, we want to look pretty."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Well boys, this is Mommy's makeup and you can't play with it."  I went on to explain that I wear it to look pretty for Daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard said, "But Mom, you are already beautiful!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave them both a kiss, took my bag back, and went into the other room and gave my husband a big smooch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE MY HUSBAND!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5538764470124420106?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5538764470124420106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5538764470124420106' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5538764470124420106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5538764470124420106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-love-my-husband.html' title='I LOVE MY HUSBAND!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3150973183194910195</id><published>2008-09-07T09:45:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T10:04:20.206-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><title type='text'>Commitment Gene?</title><content type='html'>I love how scientists use the citizen's money to fund absurd programs.  Imagine what great stewards they would be if they were solving REAL problems!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweden, just recently "found" that men who have a hard time commiting, could have something wrong with their "commitment gene".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you sure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What other was are we going to blame our behavior on our genes?  I remember there being an obesity gene.  Soon they will find a "financially irresponsible" gene.  What about a "bad wife" gene? Is there a "mass murder" gene?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I better stop, otherwise more money could be wasted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is, every human being is a sinner.  We are not sinners because we sin.  We sin BECAUSE we are sinners.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Romans 3:23 For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason why men, women, and children have problems with commitment (When &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; the last time I kept a New Year's Resolution???), promises, and other sins is because of our sin nature-its what we do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully Christ died for our sins, was buried, and was raised for our JUSTIFICATION. Sin isn't the issue for God anymore.  The issue is, will we trust Christ's FINISHED work on the cross for our salvation. (1 Corinthians 15:1-4)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3150973183194910195?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3150973183194910195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3150973183194910195' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3150973183194910195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3150973183194910195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/09/commitment-gene.html' title='Commitment Gene?'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2461357631351854641</id><published>2008-08-28T15:49:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T15:56:21.941-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Maynard Counts.</title><content type='html'>Maynard is learning how to count, and today while playing hide and seek, he was counting:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 2 3 (free) 4 5 6 (sits) 7 8 9...8...7...9...6...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too cute.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His next turn he counted like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9...(I helped him with 10) 10.  Then I said...go find brother...then he started counting again 2 3 4 11(eweven is what he says) fwewve ferteen ferteen (they sound the same) 4 5 6...then I helped him with 7 8 9 10, otherwise Willard would get bored and stop hiding...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up so fast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2461357631351854641?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2461357631351854641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2461357631351854641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2461357631351854641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2461357631351854641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/08/maynard-counts.html' title='Maynard Counts.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8374919344437075207</id><published>2008-08-21T21:37:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T21:53:31.878-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>We need the funt.</title><content type='html'>A few months ago, Honda had a commercial out for its &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WOb-h8vrWf4"&gt;Odyssey&lt;/a&gt;.  Maynard and Willard just love the song that they played.  If it was on, they requested that I rewind the DVR so they can hear it over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran across the commercial somehow today, and the boys came running into the computer room to listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, while they were getting into their jammies, Maynard started singing it, but because he cant say the "k" sound...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need the funt! We need the funt!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8374919344437075207?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8374919344437075207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8374919344437075207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8374919344437075207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8374919344437075207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/08/we-need-funt.html' title='We need the funt.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4069441229800788466</id><published>2008-08-21T21:31:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T21:37:44.791-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>I FINISHED!  I am a Triathlete...sorta!</title><content type='html'>Today, I finished the Lazyman Triathlon at the YMCA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoda thunk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a great experience and I can't wait till next year!  I feel great, and now that I have gear, I will be swimming on a regular basis!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is a Lazyman?  It is 112 miles of biking, 26.2 miles of running, 2.5 miles of swimming.  Most triathletes complete that in one day.  But those participating in the lazyman get 5 weeks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Swimsuit, shorts, cap, and googles:   $65&lt;br /&gt;New running shoes:                    $75&lt;br /&gt;Cost of Triathlon:                    $15&lt;br /&gt;Looking like a dweeb the whole time:  PRICELESS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4069441229800788466?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4069441229800788466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4069441229800788466' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4069441229800788466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4069441229800788466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-finished-i-am-triathletesorta.html' title='I FINISHED!  I am a Triathlete...sorta!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5851172515904827876</id><published>2008-08-11T07:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T15:27:57.514-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Spiders</title><content type='html'>Willard tells Maynard:  "Spiders bite you because they don't know your name."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5851172515904827876?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5851172515904827876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5851172515904827876' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5851172515904827876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5851172515904827876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/08/spiders.html' title='Spiders'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8874581635937530589</id><published>2008-08-09T22:12:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T22:17:40.724-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>The Verdict...</title><content type='html'>Well, we went to Cabela's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy said, if there weren't so many people in there, we would have gotten to see everything that they had.  I disagree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had a really cool wildlife/terrain exhibit and a cool aquarium but other than that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scheels is better.  They carry a much better variety of stuff.  Not only do they carry almost everything that Cabela's does...it carries sporting equipment as well.  Although, I normally wouldn't know this, but I do...more on that when I finish my Lazy Man Triathlon later this month... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am glad we got out of there unscathed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8874581635937530589?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8874581635937530589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8874581635937530589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8874581635937530589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8874581635937530589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/08/verdict.html' title='The Verdict...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-538229616029393378</id><published>2008-08-09T10:03:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T10:13:21.772-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Indecisiveness...</title><content type='html'>Today, Randy and I are taking the boys to the newest store opening. (It actually opened Thursday, however, today is the first day we are able to go.)  Thankfully for us, we are the most indecisive people we know, and we will probably walk away without too many items.  But we can be a bit impulsive too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Willard that we all would be heading to Cabela's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Does she have kids?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just grinned.  These kids are a great source of happiness for me, and I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, Thursday, the boys and I had to go get a lawnmower tire from Menards.  We pulled into the parking lot and Willard chimes in from the background..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, we're at Wendy Sherp Benards!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where are we honey?", I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wendy Sherp Benards!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, Okay honey...where are we again?"  I was starting to figure it out, but it was so cute listening him say it, that I just had to ask again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know Mom, that song they sing...Wendy Sherp Benards!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The song goes, "Save big money, you save big money, w&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;hen you shop Menards&lt;/span&gt;.")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just smiled, and made him tell every worker we bumped into!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-538229616029393378?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/538229616029393378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=538229616029393378' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/538229616029393378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/538229616029393378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/08/indecisiveness.html' title='Indecisiveness...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2117777175571038990</id><published>2008-08-05T11:05:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T11:27:36.967-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Note to Self'/><title type='text'>Note to Self:</title><content type='html'>Don't leave your bottle of Chocolatemint Water on the table during breakfast and walk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked into the kitchen this morning to my boys happily eating their breakfast.  However, they had poured my yummy, heavenly, no sweeteners water into their bowls...Nothing like chocolatemint-rice milk-peanut butter-panda puffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ewwww.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(P.S.  I got the water from the &lt;a href="http://www.breadroot.com/"&gt;Breadroot&lt;/a&gt; co-op here in town, but here is the site for the water-&lt;a href="http://www.metromint.com/"&gt;Metromint&lt;/a&gt;.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2117777175571038990?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2117777175571038990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2117777175571038990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2117777175571038990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2117777175571038990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/08/note-to-self.html' title='Note to Self:'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-9165251504034661910</id><published>2008-07-31T13:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T13:58:06.692-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Willard and babies...</title><content type='html'>Willard LOVES babies.  Today, I got to watch a friend's 3 children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her youngest isn't even walking yet, and she is just adorable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was on the floor, playing with a ball, and Willard came up to her, and this was his conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh! A BABY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(He holds her hand in his...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have little hands!  I have bigger hands."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(He switches hands)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let's shake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm Willard.  I changed to five.  I was four.  I was two, like a baby."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he got distracted and went and asked Maynard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Maynard, you wanna play Ice Road Truckers?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-9165251504034661910?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/9165251504034661910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=9165251504034661910' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/9165251504034661910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/9165251504034661910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/willard-and-babies.html' title='Willard and babies...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-7003332797988641060</id><published>2008-07-29T23:56:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T12:59:01.575-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Note to Self'/><title type='text'>Note to Self:</title><content type='html'>Remove the sticky pantyliner sticker from a new swimsuit before putting it on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-7003332797988641060?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/7003332797988641060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=7003332797988641060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7003332797988641060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7003332797988641060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/note-to-self_29.html' title='Note to Self:'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2165133355746559488</id><published>2008-07-25T00:18:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T00:20:18.762-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Note to Self'/><title type='text'>Note to Self:</title><content type='html'>Going to the grocery store after working out will result in unnecessary purchases that will defeat you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2165133355746559488?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2165133355746559488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2165133355746559488' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2165133355746559488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2165133355746559488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/note-to-self.html' title='Note to Self:'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2597587377365722485</id><published>2008-07-23T11:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T00:49:28.229-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Juice</title><content type='html'>Each night before bed, we give the kids their "vin and juice" and some fruit. (Vin is Vitamins.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We call it Vin and Juice, because one day, my husband or I, (probably me 'cause I like making up funny songs, but I can't recall) started singing the classic 90's rap song, in the form of a kids song:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rollin' down the street, playing Nintendo&lt;br /&gt;Sipping my vin and juice.&lt;br /&gt;Laid back.&lt;br /&gt;With my mind on my teddy and my teddy on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES, its dumb, but the kids love it, since they both have teddy bears.  Though, they have no clue what a Nintendo is...&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;yet&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after I gave Willard the WRONG kiwi-he wanted a golden kiwi, not a green kiwi...He seemed to calm down pretty rapidly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I poured his juice (its a supplement) and placed it in front of him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He suddenly puffed in a high pitch tone, "But you were supposed to HAND it to me, not set it on the table!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so funny.  He was so tired and ornery, and I just laughed on the inside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2597587377365722485?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2597587377365722485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2597587377365722485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2597587377365722485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2597587377365722485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/juice.html' title='Juice'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3191475804049615902</id><published>2008-07-22T12:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T12:34:28.146-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>20 miles per nour.</title><content type='html'>My boys amaze me every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard is imitating many of Willard's manerisms, but is starting to make up things on his own.  He has a hard time some of his letters and blends, but for the most part, I can understand what he is saying.  It is so cute trying to hear him pronounce kick.  (He uses t's for k's!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard's imagination is exploding, and he loves to make up scenarios and explanations.  Sometimes the explanations are so extravagant, I wonder if one day he will be a fiction novelist! He has recently started using b's for v's, n's for h's, and other cute mix-ups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I helped them both make paper airplanes they can fly around the house.  Willard calls his an R36.  It flies (but the pilot drives it, he tells me) over bolcanoes, mountains, and even big bolcanoes.  He said he flies it at 20 miles per nour.  But when it goes over bolcanoes, it goes sixty miles per nour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard's is a B1 Bomber.  He said it fwies.  And it bwasts offs. It fwies fass and pins awoun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MAN I LOVE THESE KIDS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3191475804049615902?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3191475804049615902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3191475804049615902' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3191475804049615902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3191475804049615902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/20-miles-per-nour.html' title='20 miles per nour.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5107964562985989304</id><published>2008-07-21T23:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T12:27:43.659-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Bathtub Manufacturer...</title><content type='html'>Dear Bathtub Manufacturer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While taking my bath, I thought about the size of bathtubs.  Why is it that I can't seem to fit in my tub?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The average height of a Man in the US is 5' 9.2" (or 69.2 inches) and the average height of a Woman in the US is 5' 3.8" (or 63.8 inches).  (I GOOGLED IT!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I measured my tub, and the bottom measurement is 58" across the top, and 44" across the bottom inside.  I am only 62" tall. (Although, I do feel better now, knowing that the average height is only shy of 5' 4".)  I can't even fit in my own tub.  My knees stick out, or my feet, and my shoulders are not under.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY?  Why didn't you make bathtubs longer?  I understand that most bathrooms are smaller, but you should have known you had the POWER to make bathrooms bigger by making the internal measurements at least the size of the average man!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrinkly yours,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5107964562985989304?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5107964562985989304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5107964562985989304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5107964562985989304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5107964562985989304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/dear-bathtub-manufacturer.html' title='Dear Bathtub Manufacturer...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3879105859933738984</id><published>2008-07-15T11:09:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T11:12:22.707-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>Protein Shakes Anyone?</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I thought I would get a protein powder supplement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got 100% whey protein (a bi-product when they make cheese)-vanilla flavored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my 8 oz of milk, got my 3 tablespoons of powder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mixed them together.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sat down to read some emails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Took a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About spit it out all over my keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I went to the kitchen and got about a teaspoon of honey, and stirred it up a bit, and you know, I actually like it now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3879105859933738984?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3879105859933738984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3879105859933738984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3879105859933738984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3879105859933738984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/protein-shakes-anyone.html' title='Protein Shakes Anyone?'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-7622325165597963194</id><published>2008-07-13T12:19:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T12:29:00.804-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>Food Frustrations</title><content type='html'>Have you ever tried to search for something online, and when you get there, it isn't what you expected?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to research Protein.  Why it is good, how much I should have, etc.  I am tired of trying to be sold different powders!!!!  ARRGGGHH!  I do intend on getting a protein powder supplement, however, I want to know how much protein is in one ounce of....whatever it is I am eating...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't go into detail here, since I started a new "health" blog (just the sound of that sounds funny!), where I keep track of my eating/workouts, etc. but now, I am diving into nutrition, and I wish I could get some straight answers! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I am eating healthy food, I now need to know daily needs...not servings!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arrgghh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I thought I would post the formula for how much protein a person needs, so you can gauge your protein intake.  You should have more if you are working out a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the formula, using my body weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12* lbs...I don't even know, but its in the 120's...I am going to round up to 130.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;divided by 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;130/2=65&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;subtract 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65-10=55&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55 grams of protein is what I should be eating.  More though, since I have been working out more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-7622325165597963194?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/7622325165597963194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=7622325165597963194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7622325165597963194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7622325165597963194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/food-frustrations.html' title='Food Frustrations'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8122061558434883277</id><published>2008-07-12T15:50:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T15:58:21.828-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Things said at Breakfast.</title><content type='html'>Randy and I chose to go out for breakfast this morning, since it was a weird morning, and I knew that there was a reason.  So we could hear this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Willard, would you like bacon or sausages with your pancakes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sawshits."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just chuckled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, he and Maynard were playing with the crayons.  When I asked them what they were doing, Willard said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are playing rocket ships, and they have happily beestroying."  (Happily Destroying????)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, as we were leaving, Maynard said, I wan a bautsty ball! (Bouncy ball)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8122061558434883277?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8122061558434883277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8122061558434883277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8122061558434883277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8122061558434883277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/things-said-at-breakfast.html' title='Things said at Breakfast.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-501029467058319086</id><published>2008-07-08T15:40:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T16:05:44.210-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>Gym Ramblings.  I mean, Rants.</title><content type='html'>Ok, I know I haven't posted in almost a month.  Sorry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try not to complain. Well, except when I'm at the gym and my trainer makes me sweat.  Then hear me roar and whine.  I don't like sweating.  Really.  What is so fun about back sweat, underarm sweat, butt sweat, forehead sweat, and boob sweat?  How about inner elbow sweat, and behind the knee sweat?  Just plain gross.  Especially when there are guys there that stare. LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I ever mention &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/02/2-oreos.html"&gt;I HATE CARDIO&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here is what I find SOOOOOOO FRUSTRATING:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While getting dressed after my shower and workout last night, I noticed that not only had my back broken out in pimples, so has my cleavage and my butt. Now, its not major acne, but still...arrggghhhh!  Yes it will go away, but come on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NICE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And not only that, the more fat I loose, the more stretch marks I notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER ABOUT MY BODY!!!????!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My trainer suggested to stop trying to work out like a lifter, and instead try to be more efficient.  So he is having me do TABATAS.  (&lt;a href="http://www.rosstraining.com/articles/tabataintervals.html"&gt;Here is a site that explains them.&lt;/a&gt;)  It IS cardio, but its better than the funky machines, and helps burn fat more efficiently.  He also took my body fat thingy.  I need to loose 10%.  Nice.  I can tell a difference though already, and I am feeling great though. (On the inside, right? BLEH!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I am done Ranting. HAHAHAHA&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-501029467058319086?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/501029467058319086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=501029467058319086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/501029467058319086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/501029467058319086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/07/gym-ramblings-i-mean-rants.html' title='Gym Ramblings.  I mean, Rants.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2029416708982352521</id><published>2008-06-16T22:51:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T23:25:47.539-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Underwear and Hemi Starter</title><content type='html'>I have 2 Willardisms from this last few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard likes his underwear.  So much so, that we have made a rule that he HAS to change his underwear every night before bed.  We repeat ourselves until we are blue in the face, because if we didn't, he would keep the same pair on until they fell off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night he was getting ready for bed and he came walking up to me, bear naked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said matter-of-factly,  "Momma.  You always, always, always, always change your underwear." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he turned quickly and went back to getting into his clean underwear and jammies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess he gets the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, since we watch a lot of speed channel around this place, there is a commercial for Armour All and it has Tony Stewart (a nascar driver?) staring at a shiny Corvette and all these girls come running up to him and gasp "Tony Stewart".  Willard has been learning different cars, and thinking he was cool, he saw this commercial come on and he ran up to the pore magnifying screen and said..."Hemi Starter" instead of Tony Stewart.  It was so cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a quick Maynardism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found a caterpillar the other day, and we put it into a little critter catcher.   "Gardea" (pronounced gard-ey)-Don't ask me where Willard came up with that one...probably a Garnier Fructis commercial) was taken everywhere with us that day.  to the store, to pay bills, to visit our friend in the nursing home.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the next day, Gardea started building his cocoon, so I put him on the top shelf near the washer so the kids cant get to him.  Every day Maynard comes up to me and asks to see the "dutterfwy" and I have to hold him up to see if it is coming out of its cocoon yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other words Maynard says:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tut (truck)&lt;br /&gt;yut (yuck)&lt;br /&gt;biebuffs (panda puffs-a dewoh (cereal))&lt;br /&gt;demi (semi)&lt;br /&gt;wowusseses (walruses)&lt;br /&gt;wockadio (crocodile)&lt;br /&gt;dit (well he only says this after he hears it (we are doing pretty good not saying it, but sometimes we overhear others), and its a cuss word...lol)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2029416708982352521?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2029416708982352521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2029416708982352521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2029416708982352521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2029416708982352521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/06/underwear-and-hemi-starter.html' title='Underwear and Hemi Starter'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2020694344175581001</id><published>2008-06-05T11:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T13:31:17.042-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Say What?</title><content type='html'>Willard came up to me before breakfast the other day and asked,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Momma, can we please do our chores after we eat cereal?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was quite taken aback, but of course I agreed!  Usually we do them later in the day, after naptime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago, I was watching Jon and Kate plus 8.  It is such a cute show!  On it, Kate had gotten a chore chart in the mail, and the kids were so pumped up to do them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I modified the chart to fit our needs and wrote numbers on little craft sticks I got from the dollar store.  I have 8 chores and 4 rewards.  I place the marked side down into a cup, and allow each of them to chose one to do together.  Then we have a corresponding chore.  On the back of the numbered side, I drew little smiley faces, so Maynard could count them instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They LOVE it! Our chores are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Putting your clothes where they belong (this includes putting away clean ones, utig dirty ones in the hamper, putting dirty ones into the washer, clothes from the washer into the dryer..the whole gamut!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Turn off any unused lights, TVs, electronics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Reward-Play a game on the computer (They have been loving Thomas, and now they like the piney game)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Sweep the floor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Put your toys where they belong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Reward-Play a game (Either a board type, or ring around the rosie, duck duck, etc)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Wipe off the tables (one gets the coffe table, one gets the kitchen)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Water the plants&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Reward- Play with Toys (usually ones that are put up and only taken down occasionally)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Pick up garbage, and empty the bathroom garbage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Make your beds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Reward- Be creative (they have been loving the playdoh...it used to be a rare treat in our house, but now, while they play, I clean the kitchen so I can keep an eye on them too.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2020694344175581001?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2020694344175581001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2020694344175581001' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2020694344175581001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2020694344175581001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/06/say-what.html' title='Say What?'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-1152764749361710895</id><published>2008-05-29T11:59:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T01:49:13.580-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>Willard is 5!</title><content type='html'>A few days ago, I had mentioned to Willard that his birthday was coming up soon.  I asked him what he wanted.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Birthday Cake and Cupcakes," he stated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied, "Well, we can make one or the other."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Birthday Cake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I just left it at that.  He was busy playing, and it seemed not to click right away.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later he came up to me and said, "Mom, I'm going to be FIVE!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Yes, you are! Is there anything besides Birthday Cake that you want?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Presents!", he shouted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What kind of presents?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A fire engine." He said matter-of-factly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is there anything else you would like besides a fire engine?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I want Maynard to get an engine too.  But he can have a smaller one, since I am bigger," he commented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Randy ran to the store a couple days later and got a couple fire engines.  I also picked up a couple of little Semis and a couple of portable fans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this morning, he came running into our room and said, "I am 5!"  The four of us snuggled up together in our bed and sang Happy Birthday a few times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was his special day.  He got to choose which cereal he wanted...rice puffs or something.  (Thanks to Randy, I got to take a cat nap this morning!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For lunch we asked him what he wanted.  He said "Arby's" right off the bat, but we knew he has been wanting to go to Peppy's Pizza.  We suggested a few places, and he repeated "Peppy's" before we could suggest anything else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We piled into the van and headed down there.  Peppy's has this "creature/puppet" that rides around on this little track, and talks to people.  It is really cool, however, today Willard was being shy and didn't really enjoy "Peppy the Pizzasaurus" or his antics and singing. He did smile a few times, but he just wanted to eat so he could ride the rides and play the games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**********ON A RELATED NOTE...WILLARD HAD GOTTEN AHOLD OF MY CAMERA, SO THE SETTINGS ARE MESSED UP.  THE PICTURES ARE VERY MANGLED, OUT OF FOCUS, AND BLURRY.  SORRY!**********&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is Willard enjoying his lunch:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06345.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06345.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he is playing a game with Maynard--one of their favorite games there:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06350.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06350.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he is trying Dance Dance Revolution. (This game is harder than I expected, though, it would be a good way to stumble into shape, in the comfort of my own home, when the kids are asleep.):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06353.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06353.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he is going down the slide--one of a hundred times:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Love the blur?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06364.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06364.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we went to Peppy's, we went to visit our dear friend in a nursing home, who is also celebrating her birthday today.  Though she is 91, she is still a kid at heart. Maynard was asleep in the van with Randy, so Willard and I went up and sang Happy Birthday and gave her a picture and a card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we asked Willard what he would like me to make for dinner.  He said Macaroni and Cheese.  We stopped by the store and got some ARTHUR Mac and Cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived home, and He and I started on his cake.  I asked him if he wanted Apple Cake or Carrot Cake, and he said Carrot Cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he is, adding carrots to the Food Processor:  It was turned off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06377.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06377.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he is with cake batter on his chin, getting ready to lick his fingers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06384.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06384.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we got the cake in the oven, I made Arthur Mac and Cheese:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06390.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06390.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard loved it too.  He is into making weird faces when the camera is out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06394.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06394.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When dinner was over, we sang Happy Birthday and Willard got to blow out his candles.  Here they are enjoying the cake (and milk!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06404.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06404.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06403.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06403.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was time for presents.  He was excited to share his gifts, which is nice, since they &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/tiniest-things.html"&gt;fight over every little thing&lt;/a&gt;!:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06406.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06406.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A card:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06409.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06409.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fans:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06413.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06413.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I thought I would share this one of Willard opening presents.  He inherited this from me.  When I concentrate hard, I do the same thing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06412.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06412.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Semis:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=boys.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/boys.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the engines!  Willard was so excited for Maynard to get one too:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC06422.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC06422.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They got to play for about an hour before it was bedtime.  He said he had lots of fun on his birthday, so mission accomplished!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILLARD!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-1152764749361710895?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/1152764749361710895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=1152764749361710895' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/1152764749361710895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/1152764749361710895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/05/willard-is-5.html' title='Willard is 5!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/th_DSC06345.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3511550546966519977</id><published>2008-05-21T22:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T22:14:25.974-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><title type='text'>OH, COME ON!</title><content type='html'>My neighbors probably heard me groan that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I recorded the American Idol Finale, since it was going to air when the kids were getting ready for bed, and I didn't want to miss it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat down occasionally, watching the show in between chores.  After I got the kids into bed, I settled in and continued to watch, &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/chip-heaven.html"&gt;bag of chips in hand&lt;/a&gt;.  We have a DVR, and it is really handy, especially when I want to make sure I don't miss things.  Oh, and fast forward through the Jonas Brothers, George Michael, and that dude in the white hat and cape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(On a side note, David Cook, doing the impersonation of Tom Cruise in &lt;em&gt;Risky &lt;br /&gt;Business&lt;/em&gt; for Guitar Hero...well, that is just hot.  I rewound that a couple times. Come to think of it, I have never even watched that movie....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I am watching, waiting, hoping, etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seacrest says, and the winner is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAVID&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my DVR stopped recording, right at that moment.  I DON'T KNOW WHO WON! I yelled, "OH, COME ON!" to my DVR, then started to shake my head and giggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I could google it.  Yes, I could call my sister and find out.  BUT I WANTED TO SEE IT, and I am a bit ticked and a bit amused all at the same time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technology.  Love it or hate it, it's here to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and don't tell me who won. I want to sit and steam a bit.  So, I have to turn off my computer and only watch pre-recorded shows.  Good thing Ugly Betty is on tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3511550546966519977?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3511550546966519977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3511550546966519977' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3511550546966519977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3511550546966519977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/05/oh-come-on.html' title='OH, COME ON!'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8650794039417007878</id><published>2008-05-19T08:27:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T08:36:32.532-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Sunday's Willardism</title><content type='html'>*OK, I haven't been all to regular on here...sorry!  Life gets busy, and I get lazy.  No excuses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, while eating at a potluck, Willard was asking what he was eating.  There were the little mini weiners.  I told him they were mini weinies.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After he had cleaned his plate, he said, "Mom, can you please get me some me-me's?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretended I couldn't hear him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What was that son?" (Yes, I do call him son, LOL)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can I please have more me-me's?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just sorta giggled, and then looked over at Randy, who was getting more himself.  "Hun, can you please grab Willard more me-me's?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy said,  "What?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Me-me's...you know, mini weinies." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both just chuckled. Willard just ate them, thinking nothing of it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8650794039417007878?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8650794039417007878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8650794039417007878' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8650794039417007878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8650794039417007878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/05/sundays-willardism.html' title='Sunday&apos;s Willardism'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5992165479103337039</id><published>2008-04-29T20:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T20:20:25.512-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Montsota.</title><content type='html'>Willard has been curious where his Grandparents live.  I told him that Daddy's Parents live in Montana, Mommy's Parents live in Minnesota, and Great Grandma G-Lo lives in Montana too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are still in Montana, and we are staying at Randy's Folks.  On our way to my Grandmother's house, where my parents, one of my sisters, one of my uncles, and two of my cousins are staying....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our way there, Willard was trying to compute how were were going to visit Grandma and Grandpa, and Great Grandma G-Lo at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said...Mom, are we in Montsota?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awww.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5992165479103337039?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5992165479103337039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5992165479103337039' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5992165479103337039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5992165479103337039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/montsota.html' title='Montsota.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3625733213160533977</id><published>2008-04-25T17:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T18:02:57.152-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Montana</title><content type='html'>We are heading to Montana for the weekend.  The boys are pumped because they will get to see both sets of grandparents, and one of their Great Grandmas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere we have been going these last few days, they have been telling everyone that they are going to Montana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, as we were in the grocery store getting snacks and such for the trip, we ran into &lt;a href="http://godsthunder.blogspot.com/"&gt;godsthunder&lt;/a&gt;, and her two youngest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is her daughter's birthday, and she came running up to us.  She showed us a purse she had gotten for her birthday, and Willard gave her a big hug.  He said, "We're going to Montana!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her Daughter replied, "Hannah Montana! I love her!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOOOOOO CUTE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then proceeded to sing her Happy birthday, and she felt compelled to sing it to herself as well!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was sooo cute!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3625733213160533977?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3625733213160533977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3625733213160533977' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3625733213160533977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3625733213160533977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/montana.html' title='Montana'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-7170284336948104443</id><published>2008-04-23T08:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T09:53:09.573-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hunter...</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel like Steve Irwin. Whether it is socks, toys, books, water bottles or coins, my boys and I seem to have our daily hunts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Early this morning (well, my version of early), Willard came running into our room, with huge eyes and a kleenex in his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Momma, Momma, come quick!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to shake my sleepiness out...I am NOT a morning person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many things run through my head...Maynard got hurt (but he wasn't making a sound. Heck, he was right next to me.)...One of his toys got stuck in one of the holes in the wall...Something Diego did &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; impressed him...I could go on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I saw a Biiiiggggg Spider Momma!" He was hopping up and down like a kid on caffeine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lovely. Not only do I &lt;strike&gt;hate&lt;/strike&gt; strongly dislike spiders, it was morning, and I am not well prepared for spider hunting from a prone position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it were the first time Willard had asked me to hunt down and kill a spider, it would have been different. But it seems in the last 2 weeks, spiders, or anything that crawls or moves, is a spider, and must be killed. He seems a bit obsessive about it, yet still seems as though he could crap his pants at any moment. I think he is excited to see it, yet terrified at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maynard is also a bit freakish when it comes to creepy crawlies...he will dance on his tippy toes if he sees an ant, then proceed to bend down, and try to touch them, step on them, then come running and tell me "bider"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order to minimize my efforts in the dawn (ok, not really at dawn) of the day, and to avoid standing up, I asked him to show me how big it was. He touches his thumbs and fingers together to make a shape about the size of my palm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a bit grossed out. I start getting the creepy crawlies, and &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LIBRARY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Sorry, Willard came in and wanted to type Library, since we will be going there later)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where was I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I can't show fear, I asked him again what he saw, so I could gather the courage to put on my brave face, and tight khaki shorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a SPIDER momma, with legs! and it ran under Maynard's bed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking he might be exaggerating how big this ---now frighteningly big--- spider could be, I asked him to show me again, how big it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He showed me his interpretation on how big it was, and it didn't seem any smaller, or bigger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I place my feet on the floor. By this time, both the kids have kleenexes in their hands and are running back and forth, ready to attack this monster living under my baby's bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't sure how I was going to accomplish this task. See, at one time, Randy had told me he saw a large spider running around..he said it was able to lift walls, and crawl under...but he, too, has a strong dislike of spiders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I have to pause for a heeby jeeby break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grab each of the boys a banana, and tell them to sit on Willard's bed. I figure rather than destroy it, I would capture it and put it into a jar or something, at least until Randy got home to view this &lt;em&gt;thing&lt;/em&gt;. I even had a plan on how to feed him, but I won't go there today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed the covers off the bed, shaking them. No spider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed the sheets and mattress pad. No spider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed the mattress, and leaned it against the closet. No spider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed the mattress board and leaned it against the window. No spider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed both drawers and slowly pulled them out, expecting a spider to crawl across my foot. I would have screamed like a little girl and ran out of the house to call the Orkin Man. The kids may have had to fend for themselves. Ok...well maybe not the fend for themselves part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No spider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there are only a few things under this bed. Two batteries from a flashlight. 3 pieces of train track. 3 unused diapers. A poster board tube that the boys use to roll balls through. A teddy bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too bad...that tube was a bit ominous. I started with the teddy bear. No spider. Then the batteries and train tracks. Nope. Diapers...shook them like a mad woman...no spider. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tube. In one hand I have a container to capture this THING. I tippy-toed over and reached down for the tube with my left hand. As I was looking down, I noticed this eeeeeeetttttyyy beeeettttyy spider, next to the tube. I kinda chuckle, and ask Willard to come and look. I then relax my feet, and wonder why my foot was caving in from a cramp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I had to point it out to him.) Do you see it anywhere around here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There it is mom! Get it quick, before it bites you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have him grab me a kleenex and I get the little bugger. He was no bigger than my pinky nail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa, havea look at this lil' fella! Crikey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eww.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-7170284336948104443?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/7170284336948104443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=7170284336948104443' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7170284336948104443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7170284336948104443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/hunter.html' title='The Hunter...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4520627768716812072</id><published>2008-04-22T22:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T01:22:45.769-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>Earth Day?</title><content type='html'>Earth Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This bothers me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colossians 3:2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The simple fact is...concentrating on the earth is not what we should be doing with our time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And "things above" doesn't mean the ozone layer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying that I don't focus on things down here. But I try not to obsess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The main reason why I do certain things that are "environmentally friendly", is because some things actually save us money. And then I can spend that money on good, healthy food that allows me to be healthy enough to live life in accordance to that verse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4520627768716812072?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4520627768716812072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4520627768716812072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4520627768716812072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4520627768716812072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/earth-day.html' title='Earth Day?'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-7367273345044083158</id><published>2008-04-20T12:33:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T14:26:17.287-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>Our Yard</title><content type='html'>Our yard looks as though it has mange. There are patches of grass, but its almost half dirt. It's the only real description I can think of that is accurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a couple benefits when you have a mange yard. Less mowing and less watering come to mind. When you have two boys who love dirt, it can almost be too easy to ship them out the door, and tell them to go play. They go to the sunny spot, a warm, dark brown mange spot that is dirt. They push it, throw it, kick it, pat it, breathe it, pile it. This picture was taken back in March:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC05720.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC05720.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They would do this all day long, if I let them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, there is &lt;em&gt;supposed&lt;/em&gt; to be grass right there. Now that the weather is getting nicer, I have steered them to the back yard where we have a big dirt pile that they can dig in, but the painfully bare spots in my yard are becoming a burden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does our yard look like this?&lt;br /&gt;a. I'm Lazy.&lt;br /&gt;b. We've been in a drought for the last 7 or so years.&lt;br /&gt;c. The dog has, over the last 2-3 years, destroyed our lawn by his constant running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what that same spot looked like a few days ago:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC05755.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC05755.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have many other parts of our yard that look like this, and I want to solve this problem this year. My two next door neighbors both have beautiful green yards. Flowers and bird baths. Solar Lights and Roses. Ponds and waterfalls. Patios. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want a nice yard and a green thumb. I do try! I have spent many, many hours outside, but my efforts seem to be in vain.  I planted 22 plants in my 2 flower beds last year and all but 5 died. Oops. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never been able to successfully plant grass seed in the last three years. In fact, one of the reasons I put in a flower bed on the corner of our yard is because there was no grass there. But the dog made another Mud Hole right next to it, since our grass is so fragile and prone to disintegration:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC05752.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC05752.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, I plan on being more vigilant than ever, and I will post the progress, if there is any! Please Keep Me Accountable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I have raked, planted seed, covered the seed with more dirt and watered about 90% of the bare spots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather has been beautiful, yet dry. I need to water the new seed at least 2 times a day, since it seems to take ages for seed to grow, and they need to stay wet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also working on my base tan while doing all of this yard stuff, so I don't have to slather on the sunscreen all summer. Fortunately I am building off a nice &lt;strike&gt;burn&lt;/strike&gt; tan I got last July. Now, if I could only lay out on my back for a few minutes a day without anyone seeing... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am off.  I am going outside to water my &lt;strike&gt;dirt&lt;/strike&gt; grass seed. I guess I will be taking every shower at the Y to reduce my water bill. Just kidding.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-7367273345044083158?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/7367273345044083158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=7367273345044083158' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7367273345044083158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7367273345044083158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/our-yard.html' title='Our Yard'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/th_DSC05720.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2577444598107504698</id><published>2008-04-16T23:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T01:44:23.245-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>My New Toy.</title><content type='html'>I was at a "Department Store" today. I was ordering a reel mower, so that I can still hear the boys playing while I mowed the lawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glance over my right shoulder and Oh. My. There it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 amp, 220 mph, 360 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;cfm&lt;/span&gt; worth of Leaf Blower (on sale of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh? What? I put in some new flower beds last summer. Willard was such a trooper helping out. He hauled many wagon loads of dirt and rocks to help me. He made good money too...enough to buy a half ton of rock at least. Or maybe a haircut or two?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/?action=view&amp;current=DSC03406-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/DSC03406-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the winter, the leaves have made my cute rocky flower beds look terrible. (And so do the tulips that have burst through the layers of newspaper and landscaping fabric. I could have SWORE I took all of the bulbs out, but they are pesky little buggers and they are about to bloom anyhow...can't argue with beautiful &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Tulies&lt;/span&gt;!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't imagine WHAT I was thinking when I put the beds in, though they look nice and help increase the value of our home. When they are in tip-top shape, they look fantastic. But now my yard has MANGE and I hope it is fixable...that is another story, for another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Soooooo&lt;/span&gt;. I just had to have something to clean the rocks up a bit. Darn impulsive buys. And it has a secret thing it does too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take it home, take it out of the box and put the kids in the sand box. I went to the front of the house, put on my safety glasses and proceeded to annoy all my neighbors by my squeals of delight...I mean...the sound of my new leaf blower. Who knew a gal could have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sooo&lt;/span&gt; much fun blowing leaves all over the place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then it gets better. After I blew all the leaves off the rocks, I made a couple of quick adjustments and switched attachments, and OH MY...Then I got to &lt;strong&gt;vacuum&lt;/strong&gt; them up! IT VACUUMS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While taking a break (actually wiping tears of joy from my eyes), I got a phone call from Randy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hi Honey! How are you feeling? (He hasn't been feeling all that good these last few days)&lt;br /&gt;R: Pretty good. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Whatcha&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;doin&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Me:Vacuuming the yard.&lt;br /&gt;R: Pause.............You're what-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ing&lt;/span&gt; the yard?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Vacuuming the yard.&lt;br /&gt;R: Pause.............Why are you vacuuming the yard?&lt;br /&gt;Me: 'Cause it's freaking fun, and I got us a new leaf blower slash (yes, I said the word slash) vacuum today, and it rocks.&lt;br /&gt;R: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; dear, I'm glad you are happy. (You could hear the odd "I don't understand my wife" tone, and also the "when was the last time she vacuumed the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;living room&lt;/span&gt; tone" as well...It was Monday by the way.)&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; babe, I am going to go finish, I'll call you when I am done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in the process of vacuuming, and sure enough...something I blew out from the flower bed into the piles of leaves lodged itself squarely into a fin thingy inside my new blower and broke a fin thing off. So now I have to go get it fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 20 minutes of fun---cut short by a rogue leaf or something. It couldn't have been a rock, since I made sure there were no rocks in the piles of leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't wait to get it fixed and blow the leaves out from every spot in my yard. Then vacuum them up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2577444598107504698?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2577444598107504698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2577444598107504698' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2577444598107504698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2577444598107504698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-new-toy.html' title='My New Toy.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/Pictures%20for%20blog/th_DSC03406-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8394128080155776524</id><published>2008-04-13T10:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T10:50:49.831-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Willardism of the Morning</title><content type='html'>Randy and I were laying on our bed. The bed was already made, but we were just discussing what our plans were for the day.  I was still in my pajamas, and Willard came up to us.  He climbed up and body slammed us, and while he was getting off, my pajama top snuck up a bit and he could see my tummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He started poking it, laying his head on it, just being a kid.  He was talking about what he heard.  He said, "I hear water in there momma, you must be hungry.   I want this to be my new home!" (As he lay his head on it.) "It's soft."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just laughed and then he said, "It must be milk, cause milk comes from your brefs (as he points to my boobs) and goes down and then down the side." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him that I didnt have any more milk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says, "OK, OK, I have an idea.  We could go to the store and get some soy milk, and pour it in there (points to my belly button) and then you will have milk again!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8394128080155776524?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8394128080155776524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8394128080155776524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8394128080155776524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8394128080155776524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/willardism-of-morning.html' title='Willardism of the Morning'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8912040331448345559</id><published>2008-04-12T08:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T14:27:03.747-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chip Heaven.</title><content type='html'>So, my new favorite thing to do is eat chips.  Well, I have enjoyed it for almost 3 decades, but I have since reached perfection when it comes to eating chips, in my case, a whole bag of chips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My all time favorite chip is Kettle Brand Spicy Thai.  I can't seem to find them anywhere now.  So, I have resorted to my second favorite, Sea Salt and Fresh Ground Pepper.  I have found two brands that are great...Kettle, and the close second...Boulder Canyon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the quickest, and easiest way to polish off 750 calories:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Tear the top corner off the bag.  Lick the inside.   Throw it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Slowly tip the bag toward the open corner, being careful not to empty the contents on your lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Grab some chips and eat, adjusting the angle of the bag so that the chips don't come out faster than 5 mph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Repeat step 3 again and again.  After 3-4 Minutes, the chips should be gone.  Don't cry.  There is dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Slowly tear the empty bag to the bottom and open it up to see the yummy bits caught on the creases.  Feel free to catch any bits that might be hanging on the edge while this is going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Once the bag is splayed open, use your finger, or whatever, to get all the yummy bits from the corners and creases.  This is CHIP HEAVEN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Place the empty, open bag on the coffee table in front of you, and lay back and relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Feel guilty for the rest of the morning.  And afternoon, and evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Because of your guilt, repeat the whole process.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8912040331448345559?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8912040331448345559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8912040331448345559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8912040331448345559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8912040331448345559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/chip-heaven.html' title='Chip Heaven.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-2821187825385007765</id><published>2008-04-05T21:58:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T22:23:06.766-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yoga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Yoga and Head Butting.</title><content type='html'>Today, I dropped the boys off at the Y Child Watch, while I went and attempted to do Yoga. I have been going pretty consistantly these last few weeks, and I have been learning alot. They always say you need to be where your body is, and only do what your body is letting you do. TODAY WAS HARD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started a couple days ago. Thursday, I went and gave blood. I was very focused during that evening's class. I had my locks, and my breathing well under control. I was feeling great. I didn't expect any side effects from donating, but there was. I managed to get dizzy twice, but I didn't fall or anything. But considering I was a pint low, I really felt great. Dizzyness isn't a normal thing I experience on a daily basis. Ditzyness, now that is another thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, today my body was not into it at all. I couldn't focus. I got dizzy several times, and I felt very uncoordinated. Wow. What a wake up call. This will be the case again in 56 days. I will have to give myself a few days afterwards to level out before I doing my normal Yoga and such. Oh, and EAT BREAKFAST! Note to self!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got done downstairs, I went up to get the boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher informed me that Willard had head butted Maynard. He was on time out. The boys tend to be rough with each other, but they need to learn how to resolve things without body parts. The teacher went over to him to talk about how he could do things differently the next time Maynard started stirring things up (he has that tendancy). I was also having my own chat with Maynard about sharing, etc. After Willard got off time out, he came over to me, and I asked him to apologize to Maynard. How sweet is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry for butt-heading you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-2821187825385007765?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/2821187825385007765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=2821187825385007765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2821187825385007765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/2821187825385007765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/yoga-and-head-butting.html' title='Yoga and Head Butting.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-6224797728846667596</id><published>2008-04-05T16:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T21:58:06.728-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Conversations'/><title type='text'>Of Female Origin.</title><content type='html'>Last night, I went shopping, by myself, at Wally World. My husband expected me to be brief. I knew it wouldn't work out that way. He was leaving, and I needed to get some items for his trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a list of things to get. Skivvies, Compressed Air, Baking Soda, Paper Towels and Kleenex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The undies were buy-one-get-one-free, and since they are 7 bucks a shot...I got 3, so we ended up with 6! The compressed air was locked up behind doors, and since I am not old enough to bring it to the front by myself, I had to request it at the register. I got the cutest little box of baking soda ever. Smaller than my hands. (Well, that is prety plausible since I have big hands.) I got a large pack of "Paper Toweling" as I like to call them. And I couldn't find a large box of unscented, unlotioned, undisney Kleenex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I searched and searched. I found a cute pair of jammies for 3 bucks. 6 pair of socks for $5.88 and a few other things that shall remain unnamed. (They were found in the craft section, and it had to do with a wild hair that I got from another MOPS thing we did. No, it wasn't a hair cutting book or painting or anything. It was a craft we did. Until I know if I am capable or not, I would rather not reveal what it is...LOL)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16 items later, I found the last item on my husband's list. A large box of Kleenex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only two hours later, I arrived home, famished, yet relaxed. A little retail therapy is good for a person. After the kids were asleep, and I got my stuff done for the night, I was ready to show my sweet and loving husband (&lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt; of) my purchases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is how our conversation went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OH Honey! You have to see these cute socks I got tonight since all my socks are over a year old and I needed new ones aren't they just soo cute honey? They were only 6 bucks for all six of them!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, they look like socks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just think they are soooo cute. I can't wait to wear them. You know, most women don't wear nice clothes and socks to impress the guys, It's to impress the girls...if I saw a girl with these socks on I would say...Oh, those socks are soooo cute...wanna be best friends???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy looked at me and said. "Oh my G******* (insert your own phrase there), you are turning into a woman."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to say. I actually stopped talking. Rare, but it does happen from time to time. I thought about what he said...I have enjoyed shopping more. I do have cute bras now that I am not nursing. I have been wearing mascara and lip shimmer. Oh, and I have to fix my hair now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I said, "Honey, I have always been a woman, even since before we met."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, you are turning into a normal woman. (Here, I sorta breathed a sigh of relief, until I over analyzed it.) He could sense my confusion, and potential wrath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"More feminine I mean," He said. "Not that I don't enjoy you being more feminine. I guess its just hard to get used too, since you haven't always been that way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I did what any respectable woman would do. I sat down on the edge of the bed, bent over to take my socks off, and let one rip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "Nevermind, I take it all back."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-6224797728846667596?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/6224797728846667596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=6224797728846667596' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6224797728846667596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6224797728846667596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/of-female-origin.html' title='Of Female Origin.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4642978600048242761</id><published>2008-04-01T17:02:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T17:04:38.628-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><title type='text'>Letting Go.</title><content type='html'>I threw away 9 &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/boxes-and-hidden-willardism.html"&gt;boxes&lt;/a&gt; today. It feels good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4642978600048242761?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4642978600048242761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4642978600048242761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4642978600048242761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4642978600048242761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/04/letting-go.html' title='Letting Go.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-6822146616876137544</id><published>2008-03-30T13:18:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T15:33:00.309-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Scales.</title><content type='html'>I try to avoid the dreaded scale, but since I have been trying to shed a few pounds, I have one in my bathroom.  I try to weigh myself after I get up in the morning, and after I pee.  I call it my dry weight. LOL.  It was taunting me anyhow...I swear its broken.  Why won't it budge?  Today for some reason, I didn't put the scale away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lunch, I hear Willard yell, "Excuse me, Mom? Can you please come here?"  I start walking from the kitchen to the bathroom, and Willard runs right into me, apparently really excited! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He promptly shakes his head from the impact, turns around and runs back to the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch him step onto the scale.  He looks up at me in amazement and says..."Look Mom!  I'm full of pounds!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-6822146616876137544?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/6822146616876137544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=6822146616876137544' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6822146616876137544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6822146616876137544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/scales.html' title='Scales.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3193173994149886229</id><published>2008-03-27T21:22:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T23:28:14.904-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yoga'/><title type='text'>I survived.</title><content type='html'>No traitorous armpits tonight. Just in case you were wondering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3193173994149886229?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3193173994149886229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3193173994149886229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3193173994149886229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3193173994149886229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-survived.html' title='I survived.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3556945117548007472</id><published>2008-03-27T16:56:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T23:27:03.584-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yoga'/><title type='text'>Things Found in my Gym Bag.</title><content type='html'>I cleaned it out my Hot Pink Gym Bag today, so I could go back to Yoga tonight. There is no real relation between going to Yoga, and cleaning out my bag, but that is what I need to tell myself. Why Hot Pink? 'Cause I am usually surrounded by Blue that's why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take out my workout clothes after I get home each time, but it needed a deep down cleaning. I needed to get to the bottom. Here is what I found:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My gym shoes. They are gray and pink. They provide no ankle support whatsoever. They were cheap. They have little tread. I didn't smell them, since my oldest son doesn't yet know how to dial 911.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. A paper on a yoga warmup from one of the gym trainers to do before lifting. I am learning how to lift weights and do cleans. Cleans are hard, interesting, and could cause a blowout. I try not to dwell on the blowout part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. A list of names if I need to call to see if they can fill in for me if I have to call in sick. Try to say that one 3 times fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. A receipt for a hair cut my husband got the same day I had to fix mine. I don't have a clue how that got there. I am trying to forget that whole mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Shampoo, Conditioner, Soap. The Y is one of the few places I get to shower in peace, without the boys screaming at me, or the water running cold. Sometimes I do have to listen to older women talking loudly about their mammograms...but I can live with that. As long as there is a towel to stand on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Shaver. El Cheapo. Dull. Hate using. If I forget to shave at home, I have to use it there. If someone is THAT close to my armpits, they should be slapped. Since we know how traitorous they can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. 2 full bottles of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. 1 empty bottle of water. I guess this is as close to a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/boxes-and-hidden-willardism.html"&gt;box&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; as I get this time. I do re-use them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. A hairband I have never used in public. I look like a dork, banded with blue dorkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. 1 dime. Shiny. 2000. I would say...mint condition. I dont know where I will invest it though. Probably a city parking meter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. A coupon for Rayovac batteries. ???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. A schedule for a local yoga studio. They have HOT YOGA there. Hot Yoga is where you do yoga in a hot room. Though, that would mean sweating in close proximity to others. Maybe not. Maybe I will try the Burlesque Booty Burn class...or maybe the Samba class?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Gray string from the zipper of my makeup bag. It must have wanted a change of scenery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. MP3 Player and ear things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. 5 pony tail holders, which I can't really use effectively since...well, you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. A little dirt. Probably from the bottom of my shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not bad. Not bad at all. No fingernail clippings. No underwear. No food. My husband would be so proud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3556945117548007472?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3556945117548007472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3556945117548007472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3556945117548007472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3556945117548007472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html' title='Things Found in my Gym Bag.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5267138806924284175</id><published>2008-03-27T16:25:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T16:26:52.720-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>Question of the Day.</title><content type='html'>If quitters never win, why are you supposed to quit when you are ahead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I got this from a movie I watched recently...lol!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5267138806924284175?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5267138806924284175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5267138806924284175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5267138806924284175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5267138806924284175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/question-of-day.html' title='Question of the Day.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-9090111379455683513</id><published>2008-03-26T14:50:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T15:16:15.605-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>A Note to Dancing with the Stars.</title><content type='html'>Dear Dancing with the Stars,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(More specifically, the &lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;color&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;uncoordinated&lt;/span&gt; Costume Designers,)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The costume construction is fantastic. I look forward to watching the show each week. However, I expect the colors of the dancers' costumes to match their partner! IS THAT SO HARD? I have been watching DWTS since the beginning... WHEN WILL IT HAPPEN? I noticed you match white with white and black with black, but for Pete's sake people...&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;MATCH&lt;/span&gt; THE &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;COLORS&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you hear...&lt;em&gt;the colors for this outfit &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;are going&lt;/span&gt; to be &lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;...don't just grab the closest &lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;BLUE&lt;/span&gt;! Buy enough fabric that &lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;MATCHES&lt;/span&gt; so that they don't look distracting out on the dance floor. You are professionals!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Until then, I will have to watch it in&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;black&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;white&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-9090111379455683513?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/9090111379455683513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=9090111379455683513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/9090111379455683513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/9090111379455683513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/note-to-dancing-with-stars.html' title='A Note to Dancing with the Stars.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-7756864255220653129</id><published>2008-03-24T14:41:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T16:59:22.861-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yoga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humiliation'/><title type='text'>Arm Pits.</title><content type='html'>**&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Some people may not find this very funny at all.  Read at your own risk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been to Thursday night Power Yoga.  I miss it.  So, why haven't I been going?  Well.  The real reason is because My Sweet and Loving Husband is home and my schedule is messed up.  I have been to the gym, but I keep missing the class!  The deeper question is...why am I missing Yoga Class on a subconscious level?  After all...why not explore the depths of my psyche for all the world to read (or three people)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have many fears.  Death...nah...Spiders...maybe.  Farting in public...Ding Ding Ding!  We have a winner!  It must be the most humiliating thing I could do to myself.  Remember when &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/one-of-my-most-embarrassing-moments.html"&gt;I farted in front of Bobby&lt;/a&gt;???  I almost died!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a fear of doing this.  Generally, I find farting funny, but not when I do it in public.  I even wish I had a more pleasant word to use other than fart...but I haven't found one that is right.  That word itself makes me cringe and smile at the same time.  The technical term is just not right...flatulence? Growing up a tomboy with a bunch of boy cousins... I have heard my fair share of phrases:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barking Spiders&lt;br /&gt;Mouse on a Harley&lt;br /&gt;Floating an Air Biscuit&lt;br /&gt;Thunder from Down Under&lt;br /&gt;SBV/SBD&lt;br /&gt;Stepping on the Duck&lt;br /&gt;Chanel #2&lt;br /&gt;Cut the Cheese&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I could go on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what happened in Yoga Class a couple weeks ago?  We were doing a great twist and a bind.  My left hand was supposed to reach around and grab my right hand behind me.  The class was going great.  And then it happened.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was loud.  It was very embarrassing.  My ARM PIT farted.  OH MY.  And it wasn't even a real fart!  I tried to laugh it off...but I could only think of how many people were wondering why I had the nerve to fart in class!  I wish I could have just yelled:  IT WAS MY ARMPIT!  But I was too stunned to even speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my younger days...using my armpits as musical instruments.  It was harmless fun.  I never knew that I had prepared and primed my armpit to humiliate me 20 years later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go back to Power Yoga.  I really enjoy that particular Yoga class.  And it wasn't a real fart.  I know.  But what if someone remembers???  When will I go back?  Do I wait a month, and hopefully everyone forgets?  Because, in all reality, I don't think I will forget any time soon.  EVER.  Traitorous armpit.  Do I suck it up and go back this week?  Probably.  But will I be able to concentrate?  What if it happens again?  What if a real one sneaks up on me and I have to move out of the state...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll let you know!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-7756864255220653129?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/7756864255220653129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=7756864255220653129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7756864255220653129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/7756864255220653129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/arm-pits.html' title='Arm Pits.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-977343424270158475</id><published>2008-03-24T07:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T01:51:17.149-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Maynard prays.</title><content type='html'>And it sounds really cute and funny. He tries to copy Willard. SO CUTE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what it sounds like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hah Wahder, Danedue Dedus Dins. Danedue Dahee, Mahma, bwoder, me. Foo. Uhdandeen. Dedus Naa, Ameh.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(He calls Willard, Brother, and he usually throws food in there.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what Willard generally says (Maynard's words are in bold):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Heavenly Father&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;Thank you&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;for sending&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Jesus&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;to die on the cross for our&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;sins. Thank you&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;for&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Daddy, Momma, Maynard&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;me.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;And for spiritual&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;understanding.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;In&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Jesus' name, Amen.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOOO CUTE AND SWEET!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-977343424270158475?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/977343424270158475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=977343424270158475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/977343424270158475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/977343424270158475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/maynard-prays.html' title='Maynard prays.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3784716840853587379</id><published>2008-03-23T23:24:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T01:28:34.629-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><title type='text'>Boxes and a Hidden Willardism.</title><content type='html'>I hope everyone enjoyed their weekend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I thought I would expand on the &lt;a href="http://http//cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/things-found-under-bed.html"&gt;box issue&lt;/a&gt;...since it really has been bothering me since I found the box under the bed. I find it quite humorous, yet strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I save boxes. I don't know why. Most of the boxes actually contain the original item that I bought. Maybe I am just anal? Maybe I am weird...ok, I know I am weird. Maybe I am a bit OCD? I generally keep these boxes in their proper places. Closets, Shelves, etc...but I did look around to see what boxes I was keeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband made a corner shelf for his new pore magnifying television he got in December. He needed a woodworking tool to finish the edges or something. I STILL HAVE THE BOX. (And the bags!)(HAHAHA! We still have the box for the TV in the garage as well because it is a nice piece to lay down on top of the concrete!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have the computer box from this very computer sitting in the garage. Our computer is 4 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do keep shoe boxes, but that is because they are so darn handy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 6 years ago, I also bought a "hair dryer" (I call it a blow dryer. Someone corrected me, but I still can't get over it.). I never really used it. I STILL HAVE THE BOX. And the bag it gets wrapped in. And NOW, since I have a "current" hair 'do...I HAVE to blow dry my hair after I take a shower. And yes, I put it back in the bag, back in the box. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(WEIRD?)&lt;/span&gt; I still haven't figured out the volumizer attachment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while I am on this subject...There are 3 things I don't like doing with my hair. In no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;strike&gt;Blow&lt;/strike&gt; "Hair" drying.&lt;br /&gt;2. Curling/Flattening/&lt;strike&gt;Fixing&lt;/strike&gt; "Styling" (correction).&lt;br /&gt;3. Using &lt;strike&gt;Hair Spray/Mousse/Gel&lt;/strike&gt; "Product" (another correction).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what? I HAVE TO DO ALL THREE NOW. What a nice punishment for &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-dont-have-license.html"&gt;trying to cut my own hair.&lt;/a&gt; That means I also have to look at my &lt;a href="http://http//cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/01/nothing.html"&gt;ever graying hair&lt;/a&gt; too.  Nice. I still have to post a picture of it, don't I? Bleh...I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; still getting used to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok...where was I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boxes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the winter of 1999, right while we moved to South Dakota, I bought a keyboard, since I enjoy playing the piano, but I can't really play. I won't even tell Randy how much I paid for it. I had it out recently (ok, it was in the fall!), since the boys were interested in it. I STILL HAVE THE BOX. With the styrofoam. And the keyboard stand box too. So, since it was collecting dust again...I put it away today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a set of Steam set hot curlers or something like that...Aqua Curl. They come in a container, that you put water in the bottom, plug it in, and the curlers have wax in them and the wax heats up, the water evaporates and penetrates the velvet wrapped curlers and all of that helps curl your hair. I got these in &lt;em&gt;High School&lt;/em&gt;. I have used them probably a &lt;em&gt;dozen&lt;/em&gt; times...I STILL HAVE THE BOX!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More Boxes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;External Hard Drive&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wireless Router&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wireless Adapter&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Laptop&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Foot Massager/Bubble Bath &lt;/strong&gt;(Yes, I put it back in the bag, back in the box)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hand Held Steamer&lt;/strong&gt; (Don't use that one often either...lol. Heck...the last time I even IRONED was when I ironed ribbon for gifts I was making in December! Still in the bag though!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cell Phone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Candles&lt;/strong&gt; (I don't really burn them anymore. I have two boys. They never stay lit!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Toothpaste&lt;/strong&gt; (Yes, this one is odd, but I like reading about the toothpaste...a snippet from the back..."most other toothpastes contain gritty abrasives: sand, bone and chalk that can damage teeth by..." ...brightens and cleans without harming ... " ...has incorporated this nonabrasive fiber into a remarkably effective..." OK I &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; threw it away. But it contains no saccharin...whatever that is. And it's cinnamon flavored, and every once in a while I like to change things up!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Food Processor&lt;/strong&gt; (I found out tonight that you can cut up beef in chunks, and put it in there, and pulse it until it makes ground beef! That is so cool. No more 6 bucks a lb. for ground beef! YAY! I thought I needed a special tool! I made Sloppy Jews. Well, that is what Willard called them, until I corrected him (after I giggled a bit, cause it was so darn funny!). Sorry for the slur, and for anyone who might have been offended or may come across this in a google search...but he is only 4...And I did correct him--they are Sloppy JOES!!) (OH...and we do talk about Jews and Gentiles and the Bible...so that is probably where he got that from!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sweater Making Machine&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Diapers&lt;/strong&gt; (I actually use these boxes for all kinds of things, mostly toys, books, donations and such.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Make-Up &lt;/strong&gt;(I started to wear mascara and lip gloss since it adds a little life, but I had to buy new stuff since &lt;em&gt;all &lt;/em&gt;of my stuff was older than I want to admit. I recently picked up some loose powder and pressed powder. The jury is still out on whether I will use them on a regular basis. I have to learn how to do this step efficiently.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why do I save boxes?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Who knows. Do I care? Well...Yes, a little...since I might possibly have attachment issues. But the bigger question is...when will I stop?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't answer that either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really feel better about it. In fact, it makes me a bit perplexed. I better go, I have to be up early tomorrow to &lt;strike&gt;fix&lt;/strike&gt; style my hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3784716840853587379?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3784716840853587379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3784716840853587379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3784716840853587379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3784716840853587379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/boxes-and-hidden-willardism.html' title='Boxes and a Hidden Willardism.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8547110443310398372</id><published>2008-03-19T23:29:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T01:15:57.922-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><title type='text'>Things Found Under the Bed.</title><content type='html'>We have mattresses that are warranteed. If something isn't the way it should be, I just get a new one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the fall of &lt;strong&gt;2006&lt;/strong&gt;, (Ok, so maybe I procrastinated a &lt;em&gt;little&lt;/em&gt;...) I called the company here in town, and they came out to the house, and inspected our box spring. It was squeaking! So, they said to bring that one in and we can get a replacement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I had every intention on doing it last summer....LOL, yes, the summer of 2007, cause we had a cute little GMC Sierra, and it was so fun. Well, it literally BURNED UP on the side of the road one day, while Randy was driving it, and we had no truck. We got another truck a couple months later, but by then, it was too darn cold (read, I was too lazy) to do anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a wild hair again today...I called the place...asked if they still had the boxspring. Yep...But by this time I had no clue where the bag was that the inspector gave me to wrap it in. I ran up there, grabbed a bag, came home, had Willard help me with his little wagon (One of the best garage sale finds ever...50 cents...that wagon...and an identical one I got for Maynard for 1.00 at another one) by putting his end in it and using it as a dolly. We got it into the back of the truck, took it there, exchanged it, got the new one home, unloaded it, and now it rests (at almost midnight) on its side, in our room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am attempting to rearrange my room...funny. I have to clean under the bed. I didn't find too many odd things there, but I thought I might share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. 3 Sweater Boxes...with sweaters I have never worn. Mostly wool.&lt;br /&gt;2. A reusable baby wipe. They are the handiest things...handmade. As a gift when we had Maynard.&lt;br /&gt;3. Used Kleenex. Eww.&lt;br /&gt;4. Sweater making machine, that I haven't quite figured out yet.&lt;br /&gt;5. A Washer. I am not sure what bolt it came from.&lt;br /&gt;6. Dust Bunnies. Must be gathering for spring.&lt;br /&gt;7. Hole punch confetti...Still wondering how those got there.&lt;br /&gt;8. A missing piece to a really cool magnetic car of the boys'.&lt;br /&gt;9. The box to my external hard drive. (A bad habit. I do save boxes, but I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; getting better!)&lt;br /&gt;10. A lid to a plastic shoe box.&lt;br /&gt;11. A piece of wood. Maybe a 1/4" x 6" x 8". No clue where that came from either!&lt;br /&gt;12. The book: Freight Train, by Donald Crews...one of the boys' favorites!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I am off. To put the bed together that is. Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8547110443310398372?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8547110443310398372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8547110443310398372' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8547110443310398372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8547110443310398372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/things-found-under-bed.html' title='Things Found Under the Bed.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-4144538007754612277</id><published>2008-03-15T17:09:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T17:14:15.858-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>18436572...MORE Randomness from a Lazy Day.</title><content type='html'>I am still in my jammies. Thought of this...had to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18436572.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what that is? It is the firing order for a Chevy small block. I recite it in my sleep sometimes...well...not really. But it did kind of impress a certain hunk I met almost 10 years ago...and now he is my husband!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to know it when I was younger. It was the magic number. I loved to help my dad with mechanical stuff, and my dad was always working on one thing or another. He decided that it would be the number I needed to memorize in order for me to get things, just for fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like...Dad, can I have some ice cream? What's the magic number? Or, Dad, can I take the car to town? What's the magic number? (Of course I would use please as well...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also had to sing songs to get things too:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, My Darling Clementine&lt;br /&gt;Honeycomb&lt;br /&gt;From a Jack to a King&lt;br /&gt;Mares eat Oats&lt;br /&gt;King of the Road&lt;br /&gt;Bicycle Built for Two&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and that is just a short compilation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes had to say..Yes, Sir, Daddy, Sir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time I thought it all of it was fun, but it had its moments of pure horror, like in front of company. But just thinking about the funny stuff I'd have to do brings back great memories. I love my Dad for doing that though. Thanks Dad!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-4144538007754612277?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/4144538007754612277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=4144538007754612277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4144538007754612277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/4144538007754612277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/18436572more-randomness-from-lazy-day.html' title='18436572...MORE Randomness from a Lazy Day.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-6020512502175369751</id><published>2008-03-15T15:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T17:12:31.077-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><title type='text'>Randomness</title><content type='html'>I am relaxing today. It is after 3pm and I am still in my jammies. I am eating black bean enchiladas, and looking at funny sites...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I remembered that I can see who came to my blog via google search..there aren't alot...but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple that seem benign enough:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"my new do" ...very benign...after all I did just get my &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-dont-have-license.html"&gt;hair cut&lt;/a&gt; a week ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"boys hair clippers" ...ok, good...did you see the &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/these-two.html"&gt;boy's new 'dos&lt;/a&gt; by the way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that is cool...people google lots of things!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...these two:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"crapped my pants" UM...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"made my husband girlie".............................?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although there was one time, where, for Halloween, MANY, MANY years ago...I did help my husband with just that. And I have proof. With pictures. But I wont show them...yet anyhow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-6020512502175369751?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/6020512502175369751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=6020512502175369751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6020512502175369751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6020512502175369751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/randomness.html' title='Randomness'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-1962429133877497621</id><published>2008-03-13T21:59:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T01:15:38.952-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>These two...</title><content type='html'>They are a handful.&lt;br /&gt;They got new haircuts today.&lt;br /&gt;They are too cute.&lt;br /&gt;They are making that face because of the tickle monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/?action=view&amp;amp;current=theboyssmall.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a219/rjandcjw/theboyssmall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-1962429133877497621?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/1962429133877497621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=1962429133877497621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/1962429133877497621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/1962429133877497621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/these-two.html' title='These two...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-6370517293404425439</id><published>2008-03-13T15:29:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T01:43:55.356-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><title type='text'>The tiniest things...</title><content type='html'>Imagine it is a beautiful Spring day. A rain storm just passed over, and off in the distance you see the remnants of the storm. You keep staring and suddenly there is a ray of light coming out of the clouds, illuminating the air. Beautiful sight. Have you ever seen that same effect when a curtain is opened slightly and the sun is beaming in through the little crack? Sometimes, if it's in the afternoon, and the sun is beating on the same spot on the floor, I want to lay down on it like a cat, bellyup, not a care in the world. Ahhhh....OK, back to reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two boys are constantly fighting over the tiniest things, mostly toys. I never thought that it would be something as funny as this. This morning, before we took off for the day, our boys were in the livingroom. I was on the phone with my loving husband, and I started to hear yelling and screaming from the livingroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk in the livingroom loudly (well, loudly with my voice HA! "What's going on?!"), they both look up at me...I look at them and am confused, since they were both playing with nothing. Though, there was a beautiful stream of sun coming in the room from the crack in the curtain. Ahhhhh....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turn around to leave the room, and they start fighting again. (No, I want to! No, It's my turn!) What in the world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I ask, "What are you two fighting over?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look over, and they are shoving each other. I walk up to them, and ask, "What seems to be the problem?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willard and Maynard both look at me funny again. Then Willard says, "But Mom, it's my turn to play with the dust!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I about peed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boys were fighting over dust. Yes. Dust. They figured out that when the sun shines in, and they get on the furniture, little pieces of dust fly up and you can see them in the sunlight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since they truly do fight over the tiniest things, it was inevitable that this would happen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-6370517293404425439?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/6370517293404425439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=6370517293404425439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6370517293404425439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6370517293404425439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/tiniest-things.html' title='The tiniest things...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5779944132120152460</id><published>2008-03-12T15:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T15:05:33.360-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Another One...</title><content type='html'>Today, the boys and I got to watch a train go by.  With a straight face, Willard looks at me and said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, seeing that train, makes me hungry for toast."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I about split my side.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5779944132120152460?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5779944132120152460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5779944132120152460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5779944132120152460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5779944132120152460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/another-one.html' title='Another One...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5388650523890318694</id><published>2008-03-09T21:25:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T15:05:55.627-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><title type='text'>Willardism of the night.</title><content type='html'>You may need to read &lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2007/01/cs-actions-phrases-and-funky-words.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Last day, I saw something STICKING UP...It was a pony nail, so I BIT it off!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said..."Really?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "It's OK, it means everyone gets pony nails."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5388650523890318694?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5388650523890318694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5388650523890318694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5388650523890318694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5388650523890318694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/willardism-of-night.html' title='Willardism of the night.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-5391487173271274146</id><published>2008-03-08T17:44:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T19:44:51.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't have a license...</title><content type='html'>...to cut hair that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted a clipper set. So, my loving husband bought me a shiny new clipper set a few months ago (&lt;a href="http://http//cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/02/finding-perfect-jeans-and-valentines.html"&gt;I am practical&lt;/a&gt;!). It has many guards and I can cut the boys' hair pretty good. They don't complain, (yet!) cause they dont know the difference! And the cool thing about this hair cutting set...it also comes with scissors and little alligator clips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not afraid of scissors. I found that trimming my own hair has saved me lots of money in the past. I consider myself a pretty capable individual. I like trying new things! So why was I drawn to the scissors this week?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At &lt;a href="http://westsidercmops.blogspot.com/"&gt;MOPS&lt;/a&gt; on Tuesday, we had a spa day. I painted my fingernails (been over 5 years!), got a foot, hand and back massage, AND I got my hair styled. The stylist who was doing the demonstration recommended layers for me, since I have fine hair and it would give me more body. She showed me how to do beachy-waves...very cute. Even cuter if you have layers and long hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After mulling the thought over a couple days, I got a wild hair Thursday. I had a very nice view in my mind of what I wanted my hair to look like. Kind of like when you see a nice landscape, you just want to paint it. On a big canvas. Like Bob Ross...happy little trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Layers. How hard could layers be anyway? Heck, I've &lt;em&gt;trimmed&lt;/em&gt; my hair tons of times...And, I really needed a cut anyhow. I even have sharp scissors and those little alligator clips to keep my hair sectioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I ever mention I can't paint. I read &lt;a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/2008/03/618.html"&gt;Ree's Blog&lt;/a&gt; the other day, about how she can't paint. I can totally sympathize with her. She longs to do it, but knows she can't. I, too, have to accept the fact that I will never be a painter. Unless its paint by numbers. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where was I. Oh yeah...The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I mean...well, South Dakota, and Scissors...although there are some people who can carve wood with a chainsaw and they do fantastic work...but that would involve trees and I have already established I can't paint. And I have yet to operate a chainsaw. I will move on before I get anymore thoughts or wild hairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh My.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to realize and accept that I have no formal training on cutting hair. I am not a stylist, and I should not be experimenting with scissors. It's a good thing I didn't pay myself in advance. I made a &lt;em&gt;few&lt;/em&gt; mistakes. If you just googled "How to cut layers" and you are thinking about doing it yourself...don't. Get professional help. Just take my advice. &lt;strong&gt;Back away&lt;/strong&gt; from the scissors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first mistake was even thinking of cutting layers in my hair, and then my next mistake was continuing to attempt to fix what I had done. Funny thing is, you are supposed to start at the top and work your way down. What was I thinking? I &lt;strike&gt;have&lt;/strike&gt; had &lt;strong&gt;LONG&lt;/strong&gt; hair. It was nice. My husband &lt;strike&gt;likes&lt;/strike&gt; liked my hair. My new 'do didn't seem &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; bad until I washed it, and then tried to style/curl it, with beachy-waves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, I could still pull it into a ponytail. I couldn't do anything else with it until I had a sitter and could humble myself enough to go have someone &lt;em&gt;try&lt;/em&gt; to salvage it. TRY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sweet and loving husband came home Friday...(home for the weekend-YAY!) and he was not impressed to say the least. He has always liked long hair, and I had slaughtered mine. So, today we both went in for a cut...He needed his done, and believe me, I've tried to cut his, but it just isn't as fast or as nice or as even as when they do it. (I am sticking to the boys' hair only!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stud looks HOT with his trimmed up, clean cut style. Since the boys were asleep in the van, he came out and sat in the van while it was my turn. The sweet, unsuspecting stylist (not the one from the spa day) didn't quite know what she was in for, since my hair was still in a ponytail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explained my "situation" and then took the ponytail out of my hair. She walked around it a bit. Walked around the other way. She said, "I think I can blend it, but we might have to cut a bit more off." I told her that as long as it didn't look the way it did, I was going to have to deal with it. I also explained that I needed it in a pony, if possible, and she assured me that she would try her best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, blending is kinda like layering, but with more little layers, sorta. I have no clue. I just watched her. She kinda had an Edward Scissorhands frenzy about her. (Although she was not pale, a dude, and he didn't have curly black hair. She was a cute little thing!) Spray, comb, snip, snip....spray....comb. Snip, comb, snip....I tried to just find &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt; that would be redeeming about this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt lighter! My hair is definately lighter! (Anything to loose a little weight eh?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She pointed out a couple holes I had cut in it, but that no one would notice them unless they started combing through it. She did a phenominal job, considering what she had to work with, and I can still get most of it in a pony. She didn't style it, which, I should have had her do it, but we needed to get more errands done. So after some errands, and some odd looks from my darling, I went home and used my new flat iron to &lt;em&gt;attempt&lt;/em&gt; to style it. I &lt;em&gt;tried&lt;/em&gt; to make it look cute. But in all honesty, the stylist did a great job blending my mess, and I think with a little practice, I could get a cute 'do out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked out of the bathroom and my sweet and loving, yet very, very honest husband says...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's the worst hair style you've had since we've known each other." (He remembers seeing pictures of the short-short one..his least favorite.) "You are still beautiful &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(he needs glasses, by the way)&lt;/span&gt;, but your hair is...............not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just have to laugh. If you were to see his face when he said that, you would too. Poor guy. I can live with it, but he only gets to see me a few times a month, and he has to look at my hair. I am so thankful he loves me even though he doesn't like my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I wasn't having a bad face day (funny, I have those every day...lol), I would take a picture of it for you. Maybe later, after I try to style it again. Oh, and there is no photographic record of what it looked like as a disaster. Unless some random stranger whipped out their phone cam and needed proof of what not to do to your hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-5391487173271274146?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/5391487173271274146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=5391487173271274146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5391487173271274146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/5391487173271274146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-dont-have-license.html' title='I don&apos;t have a license...'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-3878403522216732250</id><published>2008-03-05T23:23:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T17:00:33.224-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humiliation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><title type='text'>One of My Most Embarrassing Moments.</title><content type='html'>I thought I would embarrass myself all over again...for 3 people to see....lol. I hope this makes you smile a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All through Elementary and Grade School, heck, even into High School, I had a crush on Bobby. That is his real name. (Keeping it real.) His dad worked/works (can't remember) with my dad, so it was kind of easy to have a crush on him. He also had a cute younger brother named Nicky. Every time my dad mentioned his dad's name, I would start daydreaming about the time in Elementary School (Kindergarten or 1st Grade) when it was one of the first few days of school and it was recess, and for some reason Bobby grabbed MY hand and walked with me out to the playground. As soon as we got outside and he saw his friends, he took off, but I tell you what, I really liked that kid. Even when he and his friends would go around "shifting" their privates from first gear to second gear to third gear...weird, but, they were boys, and boys do things like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it may have been the same year, but we were in the same reading class. Technically, I think we were in the same real class, but it's kinda foggy, since it was over 15 years ago. But I remember this particular moment as if it were yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all seated in a half circle, and I was almost across from Bobby. I believe I had just read out loud, or had just recently. I was a ball of nerves as it was and I was watching Bobby read out loud. And then, I farted. Loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know why I did. It slipped! But I was mortified, cause EVERYONE heard it. But worse yet, Bobby heard it too. And he looked up from his book, but continued reading out loud. I blurted out...Excuse Me! But my reading teacher just glared at me! I was so embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I avoided him at all costs after that. I don't even know if he knew I had a crush on him. Well, I did. And he and his brother eventually dropped the y's from their name and went by Bob and Nick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had another somewhat embarrassing moment with his younger brother a few years later. I was having a sleep over with my friend Misty from school, and one of my cousins. Guess who came over to visit my dad? Nicky was there, and I don't really remember if Bobby was there or not. Us 3 girls turned my parents little loveseat so that the back of it was facing the kitchen, where they were all talking. We kept peeking over the edge of the couch, trying to get a good view of Nicky without him seeing. But, of course, he saw us every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big dorks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-3878403522216732250?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/3878403522216732250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=3878403522216732250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3878403522216732250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/3878403522216732250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/03/one-of-my-most-embarrassing-moments.html' title='One of My Most Embarrassing Moments.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-8763719265266556594</id><published>2008-02-27T20:04:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T01:16:34.731-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><title type='text'>A Bunch of Sickos Around Here.</title><content type='html'>Really. All of us are Sick. Willard seems to be the least bit, but still has a bit of a cough. Maynard has been lounging around for the last 2 days. Kinda nice really, since I feel as though I have been hit by a bus and I only have to chase after one wild and crazy kid. I did take a Epsom Salt bath last night, which seemed to help quite a bit. Maybe it was the peace and quiet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good news though...I have lost 2 lbs in the last few days. Again...&lt;a href="http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/01/reason-42-why-not-to-wear-makeup.html"&gt;anything to loose a little weight&lt;/a&gt; hey? Well, maybe it was the dancing this weekend. But it could been the fact that I haven't been eating much. It will all come back once my appetite is back. I'm hoping my stomach shrinks a bit by then...wishful thinking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do hope we all get over this shortly! It has sure taken its toll. I am going to shove us all full of zinc, vitamin C, and water and hope we all are better for these nice days that are coming up! It is supposed to be almost 60 (yes &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;60&lt;/span&gt;!) on Saturday! I am excited to get working on the yard again. Though, not excited for the land mines from the dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might take another bath again tonight. I googled &lt;a href="http://www.epsomsaltcouncil.org/"&gt;Epsom Salt&lt;/a&gt;, and found that it is actually quite good for you. Its a great way to naturally flush toxins (right up my alley) and relax. Also great for many other things, but right now, all I can think about is getting better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-8763719265266556594?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/8763719265266556594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=8763719265266556594' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8763719265266556594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/8763719265266556594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/02/bunch-of-sickos-around-here.html' title='A Bunch of Sickos Around Here.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583335156542186386.post-6893263077239316169</id><published>2008-02-25T00:21:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T01:17:31.516-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willardisms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reality Check'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maynardisms'/><title type='text'>Cereal.</title><content type='html'>Willard wanted gwah-nih-wah this morning for breakfast. Maynard wanted...de-woh (Cereal). Maynard has been saying that for many weeks now, but it was the first time Willard was specific. After using my sleuthing skills, I poured him a bowl of granola...his favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to work tonight for a few hours. It was very odd being back in the swing of things. I know I might not work again for a few weeks, but it was strangely fun to be at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A kinda crazy thing happened at work though. There was a "perp" hanging out in their vehicle in the parking lot. Some of the gals got a bit nervous, and the manager ended up calling the PD. I guess they caught up with him after he left the parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get the silly scenarios going through my head:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What if I went out and knocked on the window and was so scary, they'd leave the parking lot....not a good plan. Even if you have pepper spray.&lt;br /&gt;2. What if they are just putting the kids to sleep in the vehicle and need to have a place to sit and read a book?&lt;br /&gt;3. What if they follow me home and knock me off the road and shoot me. (I know...a little extreme, since I was driving our work truck.)&lt;br /&gt;4. What if they just were looking at a map?&lt;br /&gt;5. Why am I worried about this?&lt;br /&gt;6. Ok, I'm done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's bed time for mommas. I have a sore throat. I suppose a run to Staple and Spice will have to happen tomorrow for some sort of throat spray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/583335156542186386-6893263077239316169?l=cjwsbg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/feeds/6893263077239316169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=583335156542186386&amp;postID=6893263077239316169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6893263077239316169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/583335156542186386/posts/default/6893263077239316169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjwsbg.blogspot.com/2008/02/cereal.html' title='Cereal.'/><author><name>BareFoot Finn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01228106110776559274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yIwVWmMwtK0/SmPCyqO5EYI/AAAAAAAAABU/bFHZqAmv16E/s1600-R/a88b9add.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
