tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-209531152024-03-07T06:36:40.215-05:00The Simple and the Ordinarychristine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.comBlogger1074125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-63259420520466380422012-09-03T15:37:00.001-04:002012-09-03T15:37:25.477-04:00Boston and BooksWhat do Boston and Books have to do with each other? Besides the obvious fact that they both start with B?<br />
<br />
Go on over to my other blog, <a href="http://christinemarciniak.blogspot.com/2012/09/boston-and-books-and-dreams-fulfilled.html">Simply Put, </a>for the simple answer. Hint: it has to do with dreams coming true.christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-26927509981968278782012-07-11T09:36:00.003-04:002012-07-11T09:36:33.075-04:00Long neglected blog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxGKABPz-BjcSqV4QmiciUJhvWV789BidKBELdHjLZI3jyE_TFvGihBZp60qvzBqzs05z24_lhA_eaQF8zHul2n2ui3j4h5_9phuasQddlZRcHp967PggiMbbeIMg46lSI9RTyQ/s1600/IMG_2277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxGKABPz-BjcSqV4QmiciUJhvWV789BidKBELdHjLZI3jyE_TFvGihBZp60qvzBqzs05z24_lhA_eaQF8zHul2n2ui3j4h5_9phuasQddlZRcHp967PggiMbbeIMg46lSI9RTyQ/s320/IMG_2277.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Oh. Hi there, my long neglected blog.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I still exist. I guess most of my ruminating has been on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/cmarciniak">Facebook</a> lately.<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><br />
Yesterday we spent the day at the beach. Today we are spending the day suffering from sunburn. Yes we used lotion. No we weren't as diligent with it as we should have been. Lesson learned.<br />
<br />
I also guest posted at <a href="http://obscurekidlitauthors.blogspot.com/2012/07/summer-reading-or-not.html">YA Authors You've Never Heard Of</a> today and talked about required summer reading - that bane of all students.<br />
<br />
Let it be clearly understood, I think everyone should read. I think people should read a lot. But there are also a lot of other things people should do. And sometimes I think we forget to emphasize them.<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it be great if a summertime assignment, instead of making a child read a book they are not interested in, was to have at least one adventure over the summer and be prepared to tell about it. <br />
<br />
It can't be assumed anymore that kids will have climbed a tree or gone on a picnic or taken a long hike in the woods. But those kind of things can really be just as educational as reading. And even better, if a child gets to experience something for real, when they read about it in a book they understand the story that much better.<br />
<br />
So go. Have an adventure.<br />
<br />
And then read about an adventure.<br />
<br />
Both are good for you!christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-69014176218631751742012-01-01T21:18:00.003-05:002012-01-01T21:29:52.702-05:00Happy New Year<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNnqY_8SCxhwTA_i3mBJ15tED-zr7hztjPQmkhL5BwnMQN_JXrETQe3QmPI_BYqWY863PxUWJs48AybvfkVfgbmnXloE9H1q_sMtcMcVk9eKxCgBtqs7atMBr3zH9caqbuxYV2Eg/s1600/IMG_1766.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNnqY_8SCxhwTA_i3mBJ15tED-zr7hztjPQmkhL5BwnMQN_JXrETQe3QmPI_BYqWY863PxUWJs48AybvfkVfgbmnXloE9H1q_sMtcMcVk9eKxCgBtqs7atMBr3zH9caqbuxYV2Eg/s400/IMG_1766.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692854061122135490" /></a>We started our New Years with our traditional New Years Eve tempura fondue. We followed that with a board game (Chocolate Monopoly - yum) a movie and then watching the ball drop while drinking sparkling cider. No one can say we don't know how to have a good time.<div><br /></div><div>Today we got together to celebrate Christmas and New Years with family and friends . A gathering that was bittersweet due to the number of people who couldn't make it this year, and also because my parents (who hosted the party) are moving out of state next week.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lots of changes coming.</div><div><br /></div><div>But it's a New Year full of possibilities.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy New Year.</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-81446744906969813702011-05-31T14:10:00.001-04:002011-05-31T14:18:24.154-04:00Thoughts from the Weekend<div>A few random thoughts from over the weekend.</div><div><br /></div><div>1) The kids asked to wash the car. We don't have a pool and it was hot. This was their way to get to play with the hose. Since the car hasn't been washed in ages and probably still had road salt on it along with all that pollen, I certainly didn't argue.</div><div><br /></div><div>After awhile I went out to check on them and they'd been joined by two neighborhood girls. They were all having a blast washing my car. When one of the girls left she thanked me for letting her wash my car. Anytime, sweetie, anytime. </div><div><br /></div><div>2) Once again we went to watch the Memorial Parade that goes past my parent's house. Since my parents have bought a new house and this one is for sale, this will most likely be the last parade we watch there. All good things must come to an end.</div><div><br /></div><div>Waiting for the parade:</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5KB-_yazxb3fWky8L3mVJ1p9rSBZkorIkfT-zCjClpFTnmZ4LB4kFY-87tkmaGhMOoAReLz4cpuv4R07HhJgffpwJ7mgAkkPJ2ezrBKJrTzQ6mLQmLtkX84zaHNyRzK8t5Sdjg/s1600/IMG_0382.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5KB-_yazxb3fWky8L3mVJ1p9rSBZkorIkfT-zCjClpFTnmZ4LB4kFY-87tkmaGhMOoAReLz4cpuv4R07HhJgffpwJ7mgAkkPJ2ezrBKJrTzQ6mLQmLtkX84zaHNyRzK8t5Sdjg/s320/IMG_0382.JPG" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Waiting for the parade people to throw candy (it's all about the candy):</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzlIHHixQb6c8mJeplZDWwFUxPX1q61g9v7HwxRiNLbJv_mEytZERkkCV1ig_GGBfXjI3HSyfwlOV7aacH5YEX6W0r_F-7L4NEV1VjmCujlRM5dmEYd7lj8zfjHrtY_KMtkHuaw/s1600/IMG_0389.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzlIHHixQb6c8mJeplZDWwFUxPX1q61g9v7HwxRiNLbJv_mEytZERkkCV1ig_GGBfXjI3HSyfwlOV7aacH5YEX6W0r_F-7L4NEV1VjmCujlRM5dmEYd7lj8zfjHrtY_KMtkHuaw/s320/IMG_0389.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Funny note about the candy. When the little league kids went by - they were of course tossing candy. All except for one kid who was running around picking it all up and stuffing it in his pockets. I guess he figured there was no reason to miss out on the loot just because he happened to be in the parade.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3) And finally a picture of gratuitous cuteness. My nephew with that look of "Who me?"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLY3vSMBAu2Kbz-hTfxFUzXw6RXMlJ9M4ka7nc3KVF6_BeqN2zlvjs4fUWyBphICZazQsC8gjq2ErDH39DqQZ2Q20TnD9ps9RkuEFQSpWZrZhGQ70i5uzMwuTjsFP8sY-D8u4xlQ/s1600/IMG_0391.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLY3vSMBAu2Kbz-hTfxFUzXw6RXMlJ9M4ka7nc3KVF6_BeqN2zlvjs4fUWyBphICZazQsC8gjq2ErDH39DqQZ2Q20TnD9ps9RkuEFQSpWZrZhGQ70i5uzMwuTjsFP8sY-D8u4xlQ/s320/IMG_0391.JPG" /></a><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><br /></div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-68561665698518214902011-05-20T09:19:00.002-04:002011-05-20T09:21:54.127-04:00Poetry Friday over at Simply PutI'm finally participating in Poetry Friday again, largely because my 14-year-old gave me some new poems she wrote. But I'm participating from my other blog. So head on over to <a href="http://christinemarciniak.blogspot.com/2011/05/poetry-friday-snow-white.html">Simply Put</a> and check out "Pippi's" latest poem.christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-35522080033635091142011-05-19T09:29:00.003-04:002011-05-19T09:53:25.887-04:00The StrikeI belong to a couple of groups on Facebook that are for alumni of the elementary school and middle school I went to. Recently people have been reminiscing and the subject of "The Teacher's Strike" came up and it got me thinking. <div><br /></div><div>Before I go any further let me say that there were two teacher's strikes while I was a student in this district. One was when I was in fourth grade, the other was when I was in sixth grade. At least one of them lasted a couple of weeks. The one in fourth grade included the first day of school: my first day of school in a new school and a new town. These things may color my perceptions some. </div><div><br /></div><div>I also want to make it clear that I have no idea what the contractual dispute was about. I do not know if the teacher's were being reasonable or not. </div><div><br /></div><div>But here is what I do know. During one of the strikes a teacher spit at a child (kindergarten I believe) who was crossing the picket line by going to school. During one of the strikes as remembered by someone on the Facebook group, the teachers would hit the side of the bus (filled with their students) as it crossed the picket line. After the second strike my sixth grade homeroom teacher had to spend several days in jail for being one of the leaders and defying a court order to return to work.</div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't know what the strikes were about and I didn't care. I knew that the teachers, the people we were supposed to respect, were breaking the law and were being mean. How are you really supposed to command respect of the students in your class if they first see you being abusive toward them?</div><div><br /></div><div>Remember, students who crossed the picket line were not doing it because they wanted to. It was because their parents still sent them to school. (We had half days, with substitutes and probably learned absolutely nothing.) Most students, if given a choice, would gladly have stayed home and enjoyed an extended vacation.</div><div><br /></div><div>So maybe the teachers were really directing their abuse at the parents? Not really any better from the young student's point of view.</div><div><br /></div><div>I respect worker's rights to dispute contracts. I respect that often a strike is the most effective way to make changes. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I did not respect teachers that behaved that way toward elementary school students.</div><div><br /></div><div>Was their cause right or wrong? Honestly, I have no idea. But their behavior was wrong and that's the lasting impression that was made on me.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's a life lesson there. Even if your cause is just and worthy, you can still undermine it by spitting at the kindergarten student.</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-69681359841951764392011-05-18T10:54:00.003-04:002011-05-18T10:57:48.420-04:00Forced to Read?Today for my post over at <a href="http://obscurekidlitauthors.blogspot.com/2011/05/required-reading.html">YA Authors You've Never Heard Of</a>, I wrote about people bemoaning the lack of the "classics" in high school English classes. But does being forced to read a 100-year-old book, just because others have read it before you, really have a benefit?<div><br /></div><div>From the comments it also seems that simply not being forced to read something specific is what encourages readers.</div><div><br /></div><div>Head on over and join the conversation!</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-83903185990971296142011-03-23T10:40:00.002-04:002011-03-23T10:49:27.072-04:00Procrastination SkillsEvery now and then I see someone online say that they are giving up Facebook, or don't believe in Facebook (which makes me laugh, because it's a communications tool, not a belief system.) Often the reason given is because the found that Facebook was a big time-suck and they are better off without it.<div><br /></div><div>Seriously? Without Facebook they won't procrastinate anymore? More power to them. Because, I tell you, I can procrastinate without Facebook as much as I can with it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't need Facebook to procrastinate. Or Twitter. Or blogs to read. Or solitaire to play. Sure, I do utilize all of those tools when procrastinating, but without them I could still procrastinate.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am a skilled procrastinator.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I don't think I'm the only one.</div><div><br /></div><div>But let me go back to Facebook for a minute. There are people who seem to think that it is a tool for evil, and not that Facebook needs me to defend it, but I've found way more good in it than bad.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've reconnected with friends from middle school - a couple of whom are writers, too. How cool is that?</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm able to keep up with friends from college way more than an annual Christmas card picture let us do.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm able to stay in touch with relatives I don't see that often and feel like more of an active part of their lives.</div><div><br /></div><div>And when my brother was in Haiti during the earthquake, Facebook was one way we were able to let family and friends know he was safe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sure, it's easy to get sucked into watching videos someone links to or reading an article on something you might not have. But a lot of times I'm glad I did - and wouldn't have come across the information another way.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll admit that maybe I play a little too much time playing Scrabble on Facebook. But that's not Facebook's fault. (It's my Mom's fault. Okay, not really.)</div><div><br /></div><div>And as for time-sucks. Without them we'd all just be way to productive and what fun would that be?</div><div><br /></div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-73890939546392277332011-02-25T09:43:00.003-05:002011-02-25T09:57:40.199-05:00Five on a Friday<div>A few very random thoughts to end the week.</div><div><br /></div><div>1. I'm really glad that this rain we're having is not snow. I've seen enough snow this winter.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaoglYA-rcQ2P43VRArFgDwYKguqrRUAzMxhUwSePHtfP9n6EMOiB1yEjvnd8fwXv3yAPMUac-517H715bNuaXD1qjilghufDlqT_LfpmKIiCAP9Gt9DrCND5EMUv_Lo1D-1Uu2w/s1600/IMG_0191.JPG"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaoglYA-rcQ2P43VRArFgDwYKguqrRUAzMxhUwSePHtfP9n6EMOiB1yEjvnd8fwXv3yAPMUac-517H715bNuaXD1qjilghufDlqT_LfpmKIiCAP9Gt9DrCND5EMUv_Lo1D-1Uu2w/s320/IMG_0191.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577639896548300706" /></a></div><div>2. I think my six-year-old niece has the makings of the next big pop star. Don't you?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxWBQ0-lFNP7Tvl_d6qF21Y6pJXfdY3I8Kh0N-OLTZ1o_hF-cJLfx7ghrgboYcYxuBUGgGjJGE77UzwX4NIdhkst9EMI1DcmmlcMVHyupHEawoaT7jw-CuJ-KijRZtnCiNIQzcA/s1600/IMG_0248.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxWBQ0-lFNP7Tvl_d6qF21Y6pJXfdY3I8Kh0N-OLTZ1o_hF-cJLfx7ghrgboYcYxuBUGgGjJGE77UzwX4NIdhkst9EMI1DcmmlcMVHyupHEawoaT7jw-CuJ-KijRZtnCiNIQzcA/s320/IMG_0248.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577639895605352050" /></a>3. I've been busy crocheting for the prayer shawl ministry at my church. Here is one of the shawls I made.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuf5AP0OeIVRO7HZn9nE7ThOvQqEDfqfrMHPyK7EsoQdevR2w6h8pif5qJfrWNoDi7bIB_4ZN17ZSajM-MsEGp8tF-b6sP3N5Y8vQ8ebLZR8hf5X7vwPZv4_9FspmqTTFSWIgfg/s1600/IMG_0202.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuf5AP0OeIVRO7HZn9nE7ThOvQqEDfqfrMHPyK7EsoQdevR2w6h8pif5qJfrWNoDi7bIB_4ZN17ZSajM-MsEGp8tF-b6sP3N5Y8vQ8ebLZR8hf5X7vwPZv4_9FspmqTTFSWIgfg/s320/IMG_0202.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577639888888920658" /></a>4. My son turned 11 this week. Is that really possible?</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8cCpmxshb8GJwC7ZfyD3JDL9SS-8sWKzTrhGYw0teZfshKdZjCvGap0UGfK-5NKEKrnCI4B0_zLI87hKDadp70C6yWHbPZKFPUsZAGB90HGbqVLcUuqI94YjrNlOeNEuPONu8hA/s1600/IMG_0293_edited1.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8cCpmxshb8GJwC7ZfyD3JDL9SS-8sWKzTrhGYw0teZfshKdZjCvGap0UGfK-5NKEKrnCI4B0_zLI87hKDadp70C6yWHbPZKFPUsZAGB90HGbqVLcUuqI94YjrNlOeNEuPONu8hA/s320/IMG_0293_edited1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577639883407879986" /></a></div><div>5. The roses I got for Valentine's Day still look beautiful!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh-LJd2OPr_SgHAu9x8rU4NvMuqX2DoBSfH40cGgnP2OyugrAMAhXBVpWRvmThNvNBcuFkUyc2NU3XZe8oJtoGWhL2sOzZteRhgcivm0MjoUQQFijsihdIsQy4AQPVZcM2_oQ6wA/s1600/IMG_0251.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh-LJd2OPr_SgHAu9x8rU4NvMuqX2DoBSfH40cGgnP2OyugrAMAhXBVpWRvmThNvNBcuFkUyc2NU3XZe8oJtoGWhL2sOzZteRhgcivm0MjoUQQFijsihdIsQy4AQPVZcM2_oQ6wA/s320/IMG_0251.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577639881802305330" /></a><br />6. A bonus thought: Charlie Sheen's rant this week makes pretty much everyone else in the world look sane by comparison.</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-68614021971096325322011-01-24T09:30:00.003-05:002011-01-24T09:47:51.150-05:00Super Bowl. Family Rivalry.Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time a little girl (that would be me) had three younger brothers. One day their mother bought three football helmets at a garage sale. One brother grabbed the pretty green one, one the black one and the baby got the plain red one. The baby didn't much care.<div><br /></div><div>The two brothers with the green and black helmets decided to find out what teams their helmets were for. It didn't take long for them to discover that the green helmet had the team insignia of the Green Bay Packers from Wisconsin on it. The black helmet was for a team called the Steelers from Pittsburgh, PA.</div><div><br /></div><div>These two brothers now had favorite teams. For the one with the Steelers helmet the timing was quite good, that team was about to go on a Championship streak. The brother with the Packers helmet had to console himself that the Packers had been great once (after all they had won the first and second super bowls and that was only ten years earlier) and would be great again.</div><div><br /></div><div>These boys grew up. They not only had favorite football teams, but every team from their chosen city was now their favorite. Vacations and special trips were planned to Green Bay or Pittsburgh. They take their kids to the games. Last year these brothers (and sons) even got together to watch the Packers and the Steelers play in Pittsburgh in early January, with the Green Bay fan flying up from the Caribbean nation he was living and working in. (That nation was Haiti and my brother has harrowing stories to tell about the earthquake and the nightmare that followed, not long after that football game.)</div><div><br /></div><div>And now the unprecedented has happened. Green Bay and Pittsburgh will meet each other at the Super Bowl. I don't think our family will ever be the same again.</div><div><br /></div><div>As for the brother with the red helmet. I don't know that he ever adopted a team with the same fierce loyalty of the other two. I do know his wife is a Steelers fan, so I'm pretty sure who he'll be rooting for in the Super Bowl.</div><div><br /></div><div>And do I have a favorite team? When I was twelve my brothers made me chose one. I picked the L.A. Rams because I liked the color of their uniform. I don't think they are from L.A. anymore. I was never exactly a stalwart fan like my brothers were.</div><div><br /></div><div>Who am I rooting for in the Super Bowl? I'm rooting for an exciting game with lots of back and forth on the score. </div><div><br /></div><div>Go Packers! Go Steelers! It's the game my brothers have waited many many years for. I'm just glad it came when we weren't all teenagers and living in the same house! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-90273592883961608642010-12-31T11:39:00.003-05:002010-12-31T12:14:55.660-05:00A New Year's Tradition<div>Back in the spring of 1975 my family moved. We moved from a cluster of friends where - as my mom once described it - we grew up in each other's houses - to a town about an hour away.</div><div><br /></div><div>As New Year's Day approached one of our old friends invited us and another family to dinner on New Year's Day. It was wonderful fun to see our friends again - between the three families there were nine children who at that time ranged in age from about 13 to 2. There were complaints that there were no radishes - or not enough radishes - or something in the salad (this actually became important later).</div><div><br /></div><div>When the evening was over one of the other families said "Next year we'll do this at our house."</div><div><br /></div><div>This year it's at my mom's house. That's right. 2011 and a tradition started in 1976 is still going strong.</div><div><br /><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyr6tMpaQApv79UpfozzlEiucRZtO56W5dQqhEIMtuvKuhfYsJ9yTPJeaXVre1kad2IH5CbuJiLedV7o3S-NuunXQdhQ3tLBRqZ1ywucz-RFmE8A27UYPOCHro1i5Q9zIKTl6Ow/s1600/P1020129.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyr6tMpaQApv79UpfozzlEiucRZtO56W5dQqhEIMtuvKuhfYsJ9yTPJeaXVre1kad2IH5CbuJiLedV7o3S-NuunXQdhQ3tLBRqZ1ywucz-RFmE8A27UYPOCHro1i5Q9zIKTl6Ow/s320/P1020129.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556891626220857730" /></a><br /></div><div>There are traditional gifts: Radishes for my dad who once complained that there weren't enough radishes. Every year he gets radishes now. It wouldn't be New Year's without them. Bananas from my Mom to the other families because one summer when we were all at the shore she kept pushing bananas on everyone until it became quite the joke. The sailors get salt - because they are old salts. Someone else gets hot pepper jelly. </div><div><br /></div><div>The players have changed somewhat. Those nine children have grown up; gotten married - one tragically died way too young. Some have moved away so getting to the party isn't alway possible every year. Each year, whoever can make it does. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's a whole new generation of children. Ranging this year from teenager down to toddler.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are the millennium boys. New Years 2000 we have a picture of three of us, looking very pregnant. Our sons were all born within the same week of February. Fun for boys of that age to have friends who are the same age - almost exactly.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOE_f7gtAWfZs3L76G_L4MFCFsT7P7LYw3Ndu-b5gBuqbEJNErpaUdmPRi_n7vXJqz3ZrvM6P-ulydrUU3xt2F8f8JK40s-wByYqRKOxn2fV_8-rV1jhB6Q7P7_kitPBnyt7ImFw/s1600/P1020109.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOE_f7gtAWfZs3L76G_L4MFCFsT7P7LYw3Ndu-b5gBuqbEJNErpaUdmPRi_n7vXJqz3ZrvM6P-ulydrUU3xt2F8f8JK40s-wByYqRKOxn2fV_8-rV1jhB6Q7P7_kitPBnyt7ImFw/s320/P1020109.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556891634982434674" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>The woman who started it all, is no longer with us. She lost her battle with cancer over a year ago - and we all miss her terrible. But tomorrow we will gather and she will be with us in spirit and we will remember the way she was always cheerful and always made us laugh and how she started one outstanding tradition.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy New Years, everyone!</div></div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-78618186432773647562010-11-19T20:02:00.002-05:002010-11-19T20:06:57.474-05:00A Shakespeare Poem on FridayNo, not a poem by Shakespeare, one about him. You see, my 13-year-old daughter is supposed to be writing a research paper. The topic she chose was about the debate some people go into about who "really" wrote Shakespeare's plays. (For the record she thinks he wrote them, and I agree.)<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, while she was supposed to be busily typing up her paper, she got to thinking about Shakespeare's son, Hamnet and this is what she came up with.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; border-collapse: collapse; "><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span style="font-family: Desdemona; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></b></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span style="font-family: Desdemona; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><b>Hamnet Shakespeare</b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span style="font-family: Desdemona; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">by KRM</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span style="font-family: Desdemona; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Papa comes home, smiling, whistling,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He tells us stories of London</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Perhaps performs a skit or two</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He picks me up</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Tells me I’m more handsome</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Than the last time</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He saw me</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Was that six months hence?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Susanna and prissy Judith</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Both tease me as we set the places</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mother chides us,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Our father is home, be on your</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Best Behavior</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Papa tells us he could</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Care less, He loves us</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">As we are</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I wonder secretly to</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mother,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">‘Why isn’t Papa home more?’</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mother has no good answer. She smiles</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Tells me what I’ve heard before</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Work”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Other Papas have work</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Here in Stratford.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Why does our Papa</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Work in London?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He’s an actor, Mother says</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He writes plays,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He’s a player, he acts</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">For the public, the king, the queen</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Papa and Mother sit before</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The fire, talking about</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Us</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I think.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My twin, Judith</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Tells me it’s</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Rude to listen, to work on my</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Latin like a good boy</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I stick my tongue out</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At her.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She’s a prissy girl,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What does she know?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Papa and Mother argue</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She says for him to come</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Home more often</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He says it can’t be done</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She says others manage it</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He says he loves her very much</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There’s writing he must get to</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She says ‘The children</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Need a father’</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He says, ‘they more need a mother’</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He smiles at me, peering from behind the door</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Curiosity getting the</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Better of me</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mother doesn’t see me</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She’s angry</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Angrier than</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She is at me</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes, when I</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Don’t do my schoolwork.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Papa sits by the fire, writing.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Feather scratches the paper, I wonder</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What he writes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He tells me to come to him, to</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Listen to a scene.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He writes other things, too</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Things about “Anne”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My mother.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He crumples that up</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And tosses it into the fire</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I watch the flames envelope</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The paper</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He tells me about the stage</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I tell him about Susanna and Prissy Judith</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He tells me I’d be a great actor</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Stealing the stage</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I say</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I want to go with him to London</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He says maybe one day, Hamnet.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It’s August,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I’m sicker than sick</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mother says she’s called for</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Papa,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But I don’t want Papa</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I want to be well</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Prissy Judith, and Susanna are</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Reverent by my bedside</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I think about Papa</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe I’ll go to London</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">With him after</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I’m well</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I tell Mother this</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She cries.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I think about Papa</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The way they’d argue</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">How he’d write about her</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I tell her this</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She cries again. She tells</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Me I’ll be well again</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Soon, soon, soon</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But by then</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I knew</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I wouldn’t be</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Hamnet Shakespeare died in August 1596 from unknown causes. It's also unknown if his father was present at the time. </span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p></span></div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-21885695933953684632010-11-15T21:50:00.002-05:002010-11-15T21:53:08.713-05:00Thankful for School NewspapersJillian, a high school student who edits the <i>The Panther Press</i> did an interview with me for her school paper. How cool is that? You can read that interview <a href="http://novelreaction.com/2010/11/interview-with-author-christine-marciniak/">here</a>.christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-82765347291320572252010-11-12T10:50:00.002-05:002010-11-12T10:52:57.573-05:00Thankful for...WarrantiesI'm especially thankful for warranties that I didn't know I had.<div><br /></div><div>Specifically for the ones on my son's glasses frames. The frames that snapped in half when he was cleaning his lenses at school today.</div><div><br /></div><div>The warranty that means the glasses will be replaced at no expense to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>It will be a few days before the replacements are available, and he has to wear his old ones until they are, but at least the situation is as positive as it can be... considering it started with a pair of glasses that snapped in half.</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-37868072480522050472010-11-11T09:23:00.005-05:002010-11-11T09:27:30.594-05:00Thank You, Veterans<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhL2ELw78xkseT0ep9VsRO_V9jwAU_W5K7xPZQ_O3d57qaA3_1cOfo9Jlt1JKJRv3RCk0pyd_wgNrnTqN97CJ7G4VvEx6ke0G2PvspvDMOuDQoFrF2USqT4_h4PnXRJAe9hHVTbQ/s1600/11_47_8---US-Flag_web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhL2ELw78xkseT0ep9VsRO_V9jwAU_W5K7xPZQ_O3d57qaA3_1cOfo9Jlt1JKJRv3RCk0pyd_wgNrnTqN97CJ7G4VvEx6ke0G2PvspvDMOuDQoFrF2USqT4_h4PnXRJAe9hHVTbQ/s400/11_47_8---US-Flag_web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538297957938131282" /></a>Really. That sums it up. Thank you to the men and women who are willing to make the supreme sacrifice so that we may live free.<div><br /></div><div>"Thank You" doesn't even seem sufficient. But it's what I've got.</div><div><br /></div><div>So on Veteran's Day - the anniversary of the Armistice that ended World War I - I join with others throughout the country and world to say Thank You, Veterans.</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-27893202596042494282010-11-08T11:17:00.003-05:002010-11-08T11:23:04.987-05:00Thankful for ...Hmmm, this is a little tough today. The broken microwave is on my mind. And the leaky washing machine. I'm not particularly thankful for either of those things. I mean, I'm thankful for the things, I'm not thankful they are not working properly.<div><br /></div><div>But how can I turn that around in my head? How can I be thankful in light of things that don't make it easy?</div><div><br /></div><div>1. I'm thankful I have a washing machine and a dryer. Even if it leaks water, it still washes my clothes, and I'm very glad about that.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. I'm thankful that the microwave is a convenience, not a necessity in my life. I can function without a microwave until we get a new one. It will force me to finish my tea while it's still hot as opposed to constantly re-heating the same cup of tea during the course of the morning - but I really should be able to drink a cup of tea in less than an hour - so it shouldn't be a problem.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. I'm thankful that if necessary we can replace these appliances. It will not mean less food on the table or some other sacrifice if we have to go out and buy something new. We may not be wealthy, but we don't have to do without. And for that I really am thankful.</div><div><br /></div><div>What are you thankful for?</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-80680872521567701892010-11-06T10:47:00.004-04:002010-11-06T10:56:58.499-04:00Blankets to GiveToday I'm thankful that I have a skill I can use to help others.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNdxdjpV9I_Wl5AeOl1AKgesx7QF0VOIihx9msA_J3D-HBN-IQWRRi9Jc5uqBHrbL7XUnZhTw4y64AfEkBL2PvpJcKKs0J9fJgO12V0jl-by6am1vfhynR6SUgCdzjdt_UWzUGAQ/s1600/PB050002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNdxdjpV9I_Wl5AeOl1AKgesx7QF0VOIihx9msA_J3D-HBN-IQWRRi9Jc5uqBHrbL7XUnZhTw4y64AfEkBL2PvpJcKKs0J9fJgO12V0jl-by6am1vfhynR6SUgCdzjdt_UWzUGAQ/s320/PB050002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536449993142651442" /></a>These blankets were all made to be donated through our church's Prayer Shawl Ministry.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMULmgbNnYolcum9EFBC_-LU-u63LVr1ZP7ZAeQiOR5Q-oAONXvIQ2inSLQ1JddwDU2YkX2qvRVpP8v_d7diO0mrKW_P4T3n4ZhxxX-L5ObE8eC5Iyy4Hc8ieF22J6K8WkS97Rw/s1600/PB050001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMULmgbNnYolcum9EFBC_-LU-u63LVr1ZP7ZAeQiOR5Q-oAONXvIQ2inSLQ1JddwDU2YkX2qvRVpP8v_d7diO0mrKW_P4T3n4ZhxxX-L5ObE8eC5Iyy4Hc8ieF22J6K8WkS97Rw/s320/PB050001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536449988071221810" /></a>Mostly they were made with donated yard. And will probably be given to the local <a href="http://rmhc.org/">Ronald McDonald House</a>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgq93IzneLMnpE7yGlxsSz50Mm_eTddI73D2RQBczUu3LBSpgU0L9zX2hKg2W7nYJtHmumV9AkelG_Y6kq4-0h3VknQnp6QPhVNFLFY8Spkkm2TznqIaBGCl8mKYpB34vVmWB_Yg/s1600/PA140003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgq93IzneLMnpE7yGlxsSz50Mm_eTddI73D2RQBczUu3LBSpgU0L9zX2hKg2W7nYJtHmumV9AkelG_Y6kq4-0h3VknQnp6QPhVNFLFY8Spkkm2TznqIaBGCl8mKYpB34vVmWB_Yg/s320/PA140003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536449056913558418" /></a>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-2517141498051053512010-11-05T09:28:00.003-04:002010-11-05T09:31:04.987-04:00It's Friday, Therefore PoetryWhat am I thankful for today? That I have a daughter who writes beautiful poems. And she shares them with me and encourages me to share them with the world.<div><br /></div><div>And today I have. You can find my daughter's latest poem over at my other blog, <a href="http://christinemarciniak.blogspot.com/2010/11/poetry-friday-romeo-and-rosaline.html">Simply Put</a>. </div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-53735285991111659382010-11-04T09:28:00.002-04:002010-11-04T09:31:32.646-04:00Thankful for Rainy DaysIt's rainy today - and although I need to go out to the store and get some milk and orange juice, it's pretty much going to be a hang around the house and relax kind of day.<div><br /></div><div>We all need those kind of days. The kids have off from school this week, and while many people in our town take off for exotic locations (mainly Disney World) we stay home. Everyone likes some days when you don't have any obligations hanging over your head.</div><div><br /></div><div>And rainy days seem to be giving you permission to watch a movie in the middle of the day or curl up with a good book.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I'm thankful for rainy days.</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-86051003847696785072010-11-03T07:00:00.002-04:002010-11-03T07:00:08.924-04:00Thankful for Health and FamilyToday we are going to the funeral for my husband's uncle. It's difficult to be thankful under these circumstances. But I am thankful that our uncle is now at peace, because he endured a lengthy illness and had not known peace in quite some time.<div><br /></div><div>I am thankful for family that gathers around in time of adversity.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I am thankful for our own health. It is not something that should be taken for granted.</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-26240933084546452212010-11-02T06:57:00.000-04:002010-11-02T06:57:00.368-04:00It's Election Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwA75o1GNjOlI7vKizh-DVIfXTpRISR3z0peJiDCykvhWfLH3AUn0j8xScGFAljUTwOCydXda5SgJt7ucFpTSPXBXyWDgXO_BYBHOXFg9SJREyr9wwjMAL5Tkn9GR7CuTQLEBYg/s1600/11_47_8---US-Flag_web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwA75o1GNjOlI7vKizh-DVIfXTpRISR3z0peJiDCykvhWfLH3AUn0j8xScGFAljUTwOCydXda5SgJt7ucFpTSPXBXyWDgXO_BYBHOXFg9SJREyr9wwjMAL5Tkn9GR7CuTQLEBYg/s320/11_47_8---US-Flag_web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534767335532130354" /></a><br />Day Two of Thirty Days of Thanksgiving.<div><br /></div><div>Today, I'm thankful that we live in a country where we have the opportunity - not to mention the responsibility - to vote for the people who represent us in government.</div><div><br /></div><div>For the most part, when you go to vote today you don't have to worry about bombs or armed mobs blocking your way. There are places in this world where those are the obstacles votes must face on election day. I'm thankful those are not my obstacles.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, when the voting is over and the votes have been counted, if a new person is chosen to fill a position, on the appointed day, the former official will pack up his personal belongings and vacate the office so that the new person can take over. </div><div><br /></div><div>There may be hard feelings. But there will most likely be no bloodshed.</div><div><br /></div><div>And for that I am very thankful.</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-4302550954824028022010-11-01T08:46:00.002-04:002010-11-01T08:49:40.503-04:00Thirty Days of Thanksgiving - Day 1A couple of years ago I did this and I want to try again.<div><br /></div><div>There's got to be at least something I'm thankful for on each of these thirty days of November.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today I'm thankful for sunny skies and cool temperatures that really make me realize that Fall is here. I'm thankful that the kids have the week off from school and we can relax a bit - and start our NaNoWriMo projects. That's right - both kids and I are all participating in National Novel Writing Months. My husband figures he'll read a novel and leave the writing to us,</div><div><br /></div><div>What are you thankful for?</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-15195289996593302552010-10-22T14:47:00.002-04:002010-10-22T14:51:39.328-04:00Does this Mean They are Growing Up?Today I took my son to Party City so we could get him something to wear for Halloween. He stood there, looking bored, while I suggested different things. Finally I asked him, "Do you even care?"<div><br /></div><div>And he said "No."</div><div><br /></div><div>Hmmm.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, we left without a costume. For the Halloween parade at school he will wear what he wore last year. </div><div><br /></div><div>As far as trick-or-treating. He'd be okay if I just bought him some candy. I think his sister might agree.</div><div><br /></div><div>So it looks like the end of an era. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why do these things always take me by surprise?</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-1893486642414655702010-08-21T19:43:00.002-04:002010-08-21T20:06:57.622-04:00VacationMy excuse for not blogging this week? Vacation - and very spotty internet connection. Plus we were very very busy. So, here's a quick rundown of how the week went.<div><br /></div><div>1. Monday: <a href="http://www.visitbushkillfalls.com/">Bushkill Falls.</a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirI2qLuEDTrCq1HSEdOqojuaQCirntD2nPbOFNz6tykZZvgm7XwrVwK-5K2WB_5IfmMxEqIxsGrP2negiJTogdn4NPEg9pI2UgH_CHldCkxR25OlNYMcEu73RkP5hNHsbU_V-Nkw/s1600/P8160037.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirI2qLuEDTrCq1HSEdOqojuaQCirntD2nPbOFNz6tykZZvgm7XwrVwK-5K2WB_5IfmMxEqIxsGrP2negiJTogdn4NPEg9pI2UgH_CHldCkxR25OlNYMcEu73RkP5hNHsbU_V-Nkw/s320/P8160037.JPG" /></a><br /><div>We hiked the "Red Trail". That's the big one. You can see all the waterfalls, but it takes several hours. We were exhausted when we were done. Well, everyone except my son, so the two of us took a paddle boat for a spin. I don't think my legs will ever forgive me.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. Tuesday: <a href="http://www.dorneypark.com/">Dorney Park.</a> No pictures from there, because I didn't feel like carrying my camera around an amusement park. We all managed to get sunburned though. Fun times!</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Wednesday: <a href="http://www.martinguitar.com/">The Martin Guitar Factory</a>.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjLSJi-tZWrpfH9qsi9yNyVJ6hDoNeDoBpte3-lQiwrBog_Y7eSqS8yM4n467gxl_vyN6FVxL5o7AAt6giNVgZGACwhyphenhyphen5DPgPlpAYkovbhQjmTkQkaFH47f4uwPjpuAnDo1_V3Q/s1600/P8180084.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjLSJi-tZWrpfH9qsi9yNyVJ6hDoNeDoBpte3-lQiwrBog_Y7eSqS8yM4n467gxl_vyN6FVxL5o7AAt6giNVgZGACwhyphenhyphen5DPgPlpAYkovbhQjmTkQkaFH47f4uwPjpuAnDo1_V3Q/s320/P8180084.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYO8M2lJD0mEHstyzsx11EHZSnLeVVx_PtEVFVxKc6mortiWTxKbeUExVSIAHGUzICXGfWloaGIpiLfoHvSkuSveoG5fvxdImH1Yhwkwo1rcdfhkRxA-YQDqtIrWEF0bU5HalwEQ/s1600/P8190097.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYO8M2lJD0mEHstyzsx11EHZSnLeVVx_PtEVFVxKc6mortiWTxKbeUExVSIAHGUzICXGfWloaGIpiLfoHvSkuSveoG5fvxdImH1Yhwkwo1rcdfhkRxA-YQDqtIrWEF0bU5HalwEQ/s320/P8190097.JPG" /></a>Awesome tour! It takes a month for them to make one guitar from beginning to end. And of course we all know what kind of guitar my son wants now.</div><div><br />After the factory tour we went to Lancaster, PA for some shopping and good eating!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. Thursday: Gettysburg, PA. It's a very humbling experience to realize how many men were killed or wounded on those battlefields.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />5: Philadelphia. Here my daughter tries to get some inside information from the signers of the Constitution at the <a href="http://constitutioncenter.org/">National Constitution Center</a>.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGmimC63bUXp3t8YLd4peId4RgY4BhlnSNoR8zYUc-NJLTji-Z-i0jBEZFO2FTKRuAJ2vOVMuEOljs9JED7etzZwkot5Gw3e0MGH_01d_vwuXCGbW-93LHCUejR7xpMGl3I6V1w/s1600/P8200137.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGmimC63bUXp3t8YLd4peId4RgY4BhlnSNoR8zYUc-NJLTji-Z-i0jBEZFO2FTKRuAJ2vOVMuEOljs9JED7etzZwkot5Gw3e0MGH_01d_vwuXCGbW-93LHCUejR7xpMGl3I6V1w/s320/P8200137.JPG" /></a><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><br />6. Saturday: We started out the day at Valley Forge and wrapped it up at the <a href="http://www.bringya2pa.com/2010/07/paya-2010-festival-all-details.html">PAYA Festival</a>.<br /><br /></div></div></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQaR2JFHqUJZBSH3VaqgPRYqzW2X8sRrO8vz_R_hq3uyZggyxZxBTG-oNfSNe5ZRd3n4OWGFbAj_mJj_5Wq3t4NGkyXKy_s5X7H9KvbdcjLTmV5uqaNGtQEpfhLYdo1qyehivFbg/s1600/P8210145.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQaR2JFHqUJZBSH3VaqgPRYqzW2X8sRrO8vz_R_hq3uyZggyxZxBTG-oNfSNe5ZRd3n4OWGFbAj_mJj_5Wq3t4NGkyXKy_s5X7H9KvbdcjLTmV5uqaNGtQEpfhLYdo1qyehivFbg/s320/P8210145.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508017099102185282" /></a>This fabulous event was put together by a fifteen-year-old book blogger. And just look at some of the fabulous company I was in! That's me with Amy Brecount White, Jeri Smith-Ready and Stephanie Kuehnert. There were 18 authors there for signings, and there were also writing workshops.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So, what did you do this week? </div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20953115.post-55609044132184400852010-07-31T11:03:00.002-04:002010-07-31T11:09:31.289-04:00The T-Shirt Pillow Project<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLaT76Cz-J44Abx7OZ4vN7m-x-mL48WzVUzVFJICcYFVmvb9I5Leb5UdGo67DqCTIR-rRaNG5ZDFGIJrAf2r9W2j5tdK9jRo7Zz2VUIIgtx1-eskgtp29EoFR0gvFdSBm3t3_00A/s1600/P7310097.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLaT76Cz-J44Abx7OZ4vN7m-x-mL48WzVUzVFJICcYFVmvb9I5Leb5UdGo67DqCTIR-rRaNG5ZDFGIJrAf2r9W2j5tdK9jRo7Zz2VUIIgtx1-eskgtp29EoFR0gvFdSBm3t3_00A/s400/P7310097.JPG" /></a><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a>Okay, admit it, your kids have tons of t-shirts you don't know what to do with. I can't be the only one who feels like I'm drowning in these things. Every sports team, camp, special event all seemed to be marked by a t-shirt. And then the kids grow.</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><br /></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">Some of the shirts are not ones I wanted to get rid of. They had a special meaning for us and I didn't want to just put them out in the next clothing drive. So, I came upon a really easy project.</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><br /></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">T-shirt pillows.</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><br /></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">Material needed:</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">t-shirt</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">stuffing</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">sewing machine</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">needle and thread.</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">ruler and pencil</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><br /></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">Directions:</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">1) Turn t-shirt inside out</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">2) Using ruler and pencil draw a square or rectangle that encompasses the design on the t-shirt</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">3) Using sewing machine stitch along those lines, leaving a space a couple of inches big for stuffing purposes,</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">4) Turn pillow right-side out. Stuff sleeves and other extra t-shirt material inside pillow.</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">5) Use stuffing to get the pillow to the plumpness you want it.</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">6) Sew up opening.</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><br /></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">And that's it. Quick and easy and cute!</div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT"><br /></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:LEFT">(some of the pillows in the picture have not been stuffed yet - which is why they look a little limp)</div>christine Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800441088372947329noreply@blogger.com3