tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85318235317783029922024-02-20T22:30:27.497-08:00 Sittin' in a TreeClint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-28848313284587154002016-05-19T11:37:00.001-07:002016-05-19T11:37:19.005-07:00Future island home.<br />
Well, just called the midwife. I couldn't help but think it was funny when I told Clint I was calling the midwife. Cause, y'know, that British tv show and all. I watched the first episode one time, and it was very dreary, so I lost interest. I know people love it though.<br />
So yeah, I honestly did just call the midwife. In Kauai. There is a pretty awesome looking women's natural health center in the town we are moving to that has midwives on call for homebirths. So I'll be using them. About a month and a half after we get there. <br />
We have around 50 days till we're supposed to leave. That just became a reality to me a couple days ago. That we are actually going. That we're really boarding a plane and going. That we'll be waking up every morning on a beautiful island for awhile, if not permanently. It's super weird and it just struck me as being real. I have done ENDLESS amounts of getting rid of stuff, and I have to do more. Somehow. I don't know what else to get rid of, but I know that if we were going next week, I'd be rushing around to get ready. So these next few weeks, my list is long of last minute tie-up things to do, packing random storage stuff away (like books, decorations), and I don't know what else. I am totally freaking out with excitement!!<br />
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For those of you who ask, we are moving to the town of Kapa'a, and yes, we have a house lined up. Clint will be managing our friend's metal business in Lihue, which is a neighboring town (the one you fly into when going to Kauai). CJ and I are excited about the long paved bike/running trail along the coastline just minutes from the home we'll be renting. We'll be using that thing everyday.<br />
It's been years since I've been to Kauai, but I remember it pretty well. I cannot wait for my man to see all the gorgeousness there, and to just relax awhile with him before work starts up again. He works so stinking hard here. Here is so driven and his work ethic is incredibly strong. He is a real man in many ways, but that is one of them. He is diligent, reliable, and organized. I am so thankful for how well he takes care of us, and his total anti-laziness. He is inspiring to me. I love him. Anyway. I am so, so, so glad he gets to take a break and vacation for awhile when we get there.<br />
Random post, but I am freaking out about future plans. Tata for now, laundry calls.<br />
Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-2571148373401785412016-05-18T07:28:00.002-07:002016-05-18T07:28:46.641-07:00What's up lately.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And here, ladies and gentlemen, is a good ol' fashioned picture post. Just what we've been up to (some of it). Basically, the most recent photos on my phone. We are having the most breathtakingly beautiful weather, and everything went from dead, cold, and sad, to neon green and flushing with life and beauty. It smells like honeysuckle outside. The spring and summer months in Tennessee never cease to amaze me. I asked Clint if he is as amazed at how beautiful it is like myself, and he said he is totally used to it, having been here for so long. Every year I am amazed again with the vibrancy and glory of all the green! The bugs are totally worth the trade-off. </div>
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These pics crack me up. Summer is such a dare-devil for her age (which is why she is so accident-prone), and happily flies around on the trampoline with CJ (who is thrilled for the companionship).</div>
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They love mornings walk where they actually get to walk themselves. CJ flies down the road on his scooter while Summer runs after. Barefoot, of course. </div>
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This happened. Yes, those are bathroom scissors. He looks like Harry Potter.</div>
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So, we do have a blow-up pool, but I could not figure out how to change the adapter thingie on the air compressor so I could blow it up (where is my can-do-anything-man when I need him??). It was hot outside, so we created the most redneck "pool" in existence. It totally did the job. Who needs fancy pools when you have a tarp and a pile of lumber? They didn't know the difference. I am totally comfortable with how redneck this makes me. :-)</div>
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I love this photo. For the first time ever, CJ let Summer touch his little "baby planes" that he is uber protective of. He was teaching her what to do, and she was a serious little student. Pardon the messy bookshelf behind them. I promise it is neat and tidy and pretty now.</div>
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They hold hands when they walk down the road a lot. I promise, I did not stage this. It just happens. And when it happens, I take a photo.</div>
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Unflattering morning picture for ya, but they were so cute with their smiles, I couldn't resist. I promise we are not white and pasty in real life ;-)</div>
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Summer had the privilege of doing some modeling for my friend Rachel's Etsy store! She was so cute in the absolutely adorable hand-made rompers. Here is proof that sometimes her hair looks nice. Check out Rachel's shop here: <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/RachelsTrends?ref=em">https://www.etsy.com/shop/RachelsTrends?ref=em</a> . She is incredibly talented and her clothing is very detailed and pretty. I adore the romper she gave to Summer and I want them all!</div>
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Summer is a very, very happy little camper about 98% of the time.</div>
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About 8 seconds later, haha.</div>
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CJ rescued these baby birds a few days ago. He cared for him like their own mother, hand feeding them mushed up worms, talking to them, singing to them, and letting them explore. He would tweet at them, and they'd tweet back. It was the cutest thing ever. I was probably more sad when they died than he was though. He's a very good little caretaker. I named the smaller one Tweetie, he named the other John. He's always catching stuff. He has a tender heart toward small, helpless animals. Exactly like Clint. They're both very nurturing when duty calls.</div>
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Buds. Walle photobombing.</div>
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So, CJ is super into being an astronaut, and learning about space. He knows quite a bit about it, and has future plans to be the first man to travel to Mars. Get him talking about space, and he'll go on forever. Clint helped him draw each planet the other night, including it's distance from the sun, and their respective colors. It was one of the funniest conversations I've ever listened on, due to the seriousness of our little dude discussing, in a very grown up way, the planets and their different features. Homeschooling at it's finest! Clint and I look at each other and try not to laugh, because the things CJ says can be hilariously philosophical at times. I love seeing him develop personality traits like Clint. I hope he turns out just like him. Sharp, deep-thinking, compassionate, and very firm in his beliefs. So far, that's going pretty well. :-)</div>
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The end. Hopefully I'll get my new (prettier) blog up soon, as well as my Nikon running again. Thanks for stopping by!</div>
Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-11354066050357568592016-05-04T13:37:00.002-07:002016-05-04T14:14:44.717-07:00Well hello there.<br />
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Honey! I'm home!<br />
So I am going to start off by NOT apologizing for having not posted on here for almost two years. It was just take too long to type out why. Life is busy and I just sort of forgot about it! Moving on.<br />
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I suppose I will quickly list some of the changes that have happened in our lives since I've last hit the publish button on here, and expound on them another time. Oh dear bloggie-boo, how I have missed you.<br />
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-CJ is 4 (????!!!!!!!)<br />
-Summer will be 2 in August (not as crazy to me).<br />
-We have a dog that we permenantly love. His name is Walle. We got him at about 7 weeks old from a craigslist ad. I have no idea what kind of dog he is. CJ named him after his beloved Pixar robot. He started out as an adorable but jumpy puppy, and has since mellowed out to a sweet, humble, pathetically lazy guy who lets the kids sit on him.<br />
-CJ is going to be an astronaut (amongst a host of other occupations, such as: racecar driver, submarine 'driver guy', fighter pilot, and I forgot what else ...). His ultimate goal in life is to first land on Mars, then Jupiter. He really reaches for the stars, that little dude. He knows so much about space, planets, and spacecraft... probably more than me, because he retains all the information. He craves it.<br />
-Clint bought a skidsteer (it's his baby) and his business has been really growing at rapid speeds. I am constantly amazed at how organized he is with all the jobs he figures, people he handles, problems he solves and... the math. How does he do the math. So much math.<br />
-I almost forgot. We are having another kidlet!!! Due in August on Summer's birthday (which makes me laugh). <br />
-and... said kidlet will have the privilege of being born on the luscious island of Kauai. Say what...?! That's probably the biggest news. I will expound on that in a future post. I get SO many questions about it.<br />
-I did end up starting my little business, Kahalia Beauty. I took me F-O-R-E-V-E-R to get out there. It thrills my soul when people contact me and tell me they love it. I love it too, so I don't know how I'll live without it because...<br />
-I'm putting it on hold. It requires SO SO SO much time. And I know for a fact that if I dedicated even more time, it would be that much better of a little business. I simply don't have that time right now. Having two children who need me, and being in the middle of filtering out most of my belongings (before we head to Kauai), plus keeping the house, laundry, meals, and sanity going is just too much right now. I do every aspect of Kahalia (formulating, keeping jars and all ingredients in stock, advertising, packaging, shipping, communicating... WHEW). Since I'll be having a baby a month after going to Kauai, it doesn't fit into that time very well either. So right now, Clint and I are trying to figure out a time to get it going again. We're thinking this November, but I will keep you posted!<br />
-I don't run very much anymore (SOB). Distances, that is. CJ and Summer combined, plus stroller and the fact that my whole road is rolling hills, makes running pretty strenuous (I'm pushing 100+ up and down hills). It's like a crossfit workout every time. It's very hard. Which technically, I guess that's good. But I can't run 6 miles everyday anymore. I need to start taking them to the in-laws so I can run alone sometimes. I love it, I crave it!<br />
-For all the people who ask me a lot-- no, I don't do Plexus! ;-) Haha.<br />
-Everyday, CJ gets smarter and more like Clint. People tell him aaaalllll the time he looks just like his Daddy (mainly strangers). I love love love it. If he ends up looking like Clint and being as incredible a human as Clint is, I'll be very pleased. Clint honestly could not be a better dad or a better husband. Honestly, from my heart. I smile when I think of him (if he's at work...if I think of when he's at home, I smile AT him, hehe). I hope I can be as good a wife as he is a husband. Geez, now I miss him. Thankfully he's coming home early because it's going to storm. :-)<br />
-Summer is the most hilarious human in the world. From her funny crooked teeth, to her out-of-control Mufasa hair, to her oddly brown skin and teeny features, she is a package of adorableness. Which is why she gets away with murder. Sometimes I catch Clint looking at her with absolute adoration and total abandon on his face... just pure love. It's so cute. I hope to capture it on camera someday. The first thing Summer says when she wakes up every morning is "Daddy??". Then "CJ?". She loves her dudes.<br />
-I'm getting off of Facebook (on Wednesday... I have to take care of some business first). Surprisingly enough, I have gotten a ton of backlash from this! A lot of suspicious questions and "why on earth??" which actually kind of surprises me. I have never seen facebook as a positive addition to my life, or to anyone else's. I mean... we all survived without it before. Blogs were the way we kept up with each other in the technology age. Blogs, phone conversations, and visits. :-) I do enjoy seeing people's posts, and the messaging system has been very convenient for me. Plus the business side. But I'm purifying my life a little, and Facebook is one of the first to go. Once I get Kahalia rolling again, I will probably manage that page on FB once more, but for now, I'm getting off. I will be posting here as consistently as possible, so you can see what's up! (for those who are interested).<br />
-I'll be supping up this blog a little. It's so ancient looking and it needs some love. Stay tuned!<br />
And now... drumroll please... allow me to share my enchanting offspring. Robin (Clint's littlest sister) is a creative, blossoming photographer, and captured these a few nights ago. They are by far my favorite pictures of CJ and Summer... the capture their personalities so perfectly. There are about 90 more where these came from... I must post some again soon! They are too precious to not share! If you live in the area, check out her page to make an appointment: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Little-Bird-Photography-1581024092131907/?fref=ts">https://www.facebook.com/Little-Bird-Photography-1581024092131907/?fref=ts</a><br />
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Summer is like... what...</div>
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Winding up for the smile...</div>
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...there it is.</div>
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It is CJ's joy to blow bubbles for Summer to chase. The bubble chase is ever futile, because they pop before your nerves can even tell your brain that you touched it. This still frustrates me.</div>
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Their height difference makes me laugh every time I see it in a photo.</div>
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CJ is a tall dude, but Summer got the delicate gene somehow.</div>
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Bubble face!</div>
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She is my joyful sunshine.</div>
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Tune in next time. :-)</div>
Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-89160801182008484652014-10-04T19:47:00.000-07:002014-10-04T19:47:25.343-07:00The (very long) birth story of Summer ElizaI wrote this a few weeks ago, figured I should post it!<br />
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Maybe it's hormones, I don't know... but I am just so thankful for this beautiful life and family God has given me. I am so crazy blessed, it's insane. Actually, it's not hormones, it's the real deal. Because my life is always wonderful and I have everything I want, desire, and need.<br />
Beware: this is going to be a super long post. I don't usually read birth stories because really, I don't care to be involved in the whole giving birth thing unless I have to. Which has been twice now. I'm writing this out just to remember, and then figured I'd make it a blog post because a) I know a lot of my friends would be interested to read it and b) because I want to be another testimony that preparing yourself mentally for birth IS a huge deal!<br />
I did not write out CJ's birth story because it really did scar me mentally. I could not talk about it without feeling physically scared, however melodramatic that sounds, for about a year. It made me sad right away whenever I thought about it, because it was truly the most horrific experience of my life (except for of course whenever he was out and in my arms, that was fabulous). I can recall perfectly that dark place I was in my mind for the last 6 hours or so, and the insanity I felt the last 2 hours when I was trying to push him out and he just would not come. I had my head buried in Clint's lap and was rubbing my head back and forth (let's just say I had quite the hairdo after...) and he was leaning over me telling me he loved me and just in so much shock himself with tears running down his face. It was horrible! I plan to never go back to that mental/emotional place ever again. The pain was so unfathomable, I don't know how a human body can tolerate that, but I'm still alive somehow.<br />
Fast forward 2 years and I am pregnant with our second baby. We absolutely did not plan on CJ, he just kind of happened. :) But this time, we did not want them to be too far apart or too close together, so we "let things happen", and lo and behold, a baby was due in August.<br />
It sounds bad, but I was "more" excited about this baby than CJ. With CJ, we had gotten married only months before and were planning on waiting 2 years on kids. He was quite the shock, but I would never return him, he's my little friend. I cannot imagine if we had missed out on him! God knows what he's doing even if it was not in my original plans.<br />
Anyway, the pregnancy was different than CJ, but of course all was smooth. My belly was pretty small and shaped kind of funny, measuring about 7 weeks behind. I cannot tell you how often people would say "are you sure everything is alright", "are you sure your due date is correct", and worst of all "I KNOW your due date is incorrect! That baby isn't coming till October". Ugh. There are many, many reasons why this last one bothered me, the main one being that I knew my due date was correct, and that due dates are never acurrate anyway. There's a two week 'allowance' you give a due date. It's not like the baby is on a timer. And who are you to say my due date is not correct? Anyway, I can get very carried away on this one so I'll stop.<br />
Everyone referred to my belly as "CJ's sister", and we all kind of assumed it was a girl given the small size and very different way I was carrying. Clint and I didn't have a preference about the gender. Two little boys together is always a good thing (or is it? ha). But a little girl would be fun because we didn't have one.<br />
Because of our bad experience with CJ's birth, I did a serious amount of reading and research this time, specifically Hypnobirthing. My friend used this method with her fourth baby, and her and her husband swore by it. The only reason I gave it any real consideration was because I knew her to be an extreme realist and she was definitely not in the "birth is beautiful" gang. She agreed with me that birth was quite hellacious, and that was that. But after her fourth was born, she practically begged me to buy the book. So I did.<br />
I am a horrible procrastinator and so I did not study the book and practice everyday, but I did read it and do my best to believe it, and practiced the visualization and deep breathing. I even put myself to sleep once doing the visualization practice. I read a lot of natural birth stories where the mother was positive and peaceful her whole labor (which are usually the new-age types), and did my best to completely revolutionize my outlook and to absolutely not feel any fear about my impending doom. I had to choose to not be scared out of my mind, however hard that was. I did not know if it would work but I knew it did not hurt to try. I mainly did this by just not thinking about CJ's birth, but rather focusing on the flowery positive affirmation stuff that I would usually roll my eyes at. We bought a blow up pool on Amazon to use, and I reasurred myself daily that this would be better being a second baby, and that I was so much more prepared. I was.<br />
My due date rolled around and the baby was not here. CJ was three whole weeks late was I was feeling a little down that the baby would sit in there forever, meaning I had to feel huge for extra time in the humid summer, and I knew a few people would say "I told you so". Immature, I know, but that would've been annoying.<br />
I had a ton of deep, borderline painful Braxton Hicks the two weeks leading up to her birth. I would use these to try to relax completely and just focus.<br />
Clint had bought a truck from a friend up in Ohio. He had been looking for a good deal on a diesel because he needed a more powerful truck to haul heavier loads, etc, and plus he just wanted an upgrade. He had been delaying picking it up for about a week because it would simply just be too far for him to leave with us having a baby any time. The guy wanted him to come get it but it would just have been not the smartest move to go on a 14+ hour trip. Also, my parents were coming in on the 31st and staying 8 days, so I really wanted the baby to be born so they could actually see it, since that is why they were flying all the way across the country. The baby just needed to come!<br />
Fast forward to Tuesday August 26th and all this was weighing on my mind and I just prayed and prayed all day whenever I thought about it, that God would just send the baby that night so we could solve these little issues. I was also starting to feel very reclusive and not wanting to go anywhere because I just felt so big and easily worn out, and my ankles were swelling due to the thick, gross weather. I just didn't feel my greatest and was SO done with being pregnant (I never want to be pregnant in the summer again!).<br />
I woke up in the middle of the night that night for my 30th pee trip thinking, 'well scratch that idea! The baby isn't coming tonight, oh well, it has to be born sometime'. But around 4:30 am I woke up with stomach pains that did not feel like contractions, but rather round ligament pain. But they were contraction-like in that they lasted about 40 seconds, were too painful to sleep through. I really didn't think it was labor because it just did not feel like a contraction. Clint was getting up at 6:15 to leave for work and I knew I had to know by then if this was it.<br />
At 6:15 his alarm went off and he woke up. I told him I might be in labor, and he said he needed to know by 6:45, because his plans had changed and he could sleep a little longer. So I got up and started cleaning up the house, hoping I would know. They were getting more painful to where I would pause while they took their toll, but they were still not that period-cramping I had the first time.<br />
At 6:45 I went back in bed and said I was pretty sure this was it, because it was just too consistent and too painful to not be it. He had to know for sure though, because he had a guy bringing materials out to the job (which was an hour away), and that guy needed to know if Clint would actually be there. I was scared to say YES STAY because what if was just pre-labor and it stopped? Then I would have totally ruined a lot of people's day. Clint works for himself so he can leave whenever he wants, so he was delaying leaving by sending his guys to get some other materials from our local metal company. I finally told him I was for sure in labor, and to just stay home. He wasn't quite sure because I wasn't screaming yet (haha). But at that point they were painful enough that I had to stop and be quiet to get through them.<br />
I got up again and began getting stuff out (electric kettle, pots, bowls, towels). I texted my mother in law who would be bringing my midwife (who is her mother in law!). CJ woke up about 9 o'clock and we told him the baby would come today. He did his typical "OH!". It was weird because I felt pretty happy and positive in between all the contractions, which was polar-opposite of my first experience. When one would come, I would go in our closet and put my hands on the rod and kind of lean out while it happened. It seemed to help the pain. CJ started talking to me during one and touching me, hugging me, asking me why I was sad. It was extremely distracting to have him talking to me and I could not relax my body through them while he was there.<br />
So Clint drove him over to his parents house (about 15 minutes away). I knew I would be just fine alone at this point. I got in the shower after he left and sang to myself through them (which I know sounds so silly, but it helped). The hot water felt amazing on my pained belly and it really helped me cope. I didn't want to get out but all the heat was making me feel dizzy.<br />
Clint got home and kept asking me if I was totally sure I was in labor. He was extremely skeptical because I wasn't freaking out or moaning through contractions or even laying down. I managed to make him a plate of chicken quesadillas in between contractions (so weird thinking about it now!). I would go run into the closet whenever I felt one coming on. After I got him his food I laid on the couch with him and drifted in and out of sleep in between contractions (again something that did NOT happen the other time). I got about an 8 minute break between them, and I was feeling pretty happy about that until I remembered that long breaks meant a significantly higher level of pain. Oh great. It was close to 11 at that time and the contractions were pretty awful. I would relax through most of them and then once they reached the peak I SO badly wanted to yell out or rip something up or bite something, but I forced myself to keep my hands and feet and face relaxed. It was ridiculsouly difficult to do this, but it helped me stay in a normal mental place. Clint did not even know I was having contractions because I was so quiet. Every once in awhile he would say "do you still think the baby is coming today? It just really doesn't seem like it". I would tell him UM YES, I'm just not freaking out.<br />
Around 11:30 I asked him if he would go blow up the pool. Our actual living space is on the second level of our house, and the bottom part has a bunch of rooms and a bathroom, but it's unfinished with a concrete floor. Clint blew up the pool and came back up and said he really did not think it was going to work to bring it upstairs, because how would we drain it. So he left it downstairs and filled it up while I stayed laying on my side on the couch.<br />
While he was gone, the contractions were getting so wicked I started to cry (which is something I had been fighting for hours). The baby would literally move around during the contractions, which was a whole new level of awful. It felt like she would go down and then push herself up. So eventually I thought maybe I needed to stand up so she could just drop down. I stood up and boy did she drop down! I started to feel that things were going to be happening soon (don't want to be too graphic here!). I could hear Clint pouring buckets of water into the pool downstaris and I called to him and said could he please call his mom because I thought the baby was coming very, very soon. He went outside and called and then came back up the stairs and hugged me for a little while. I was getting emotional at that point because the pain was increasing rapidly. He went behind him me and wrapped his arms around me while we went down the stairs. He helped me into the pool and it felt so cold, it took me a minute to get in. He started boiling water and dumping it around me. He had used up all the hot water trying to fill up the pool, so he had to boil it in increments. In between it boiling he would come and stroke my face and my hair, put water on my face and put his hands on my belly (which felt amazing because his hands were so warm). I was shaking violently at that point, not due to the cold water but to going into transition. I couldn't control the shaking and the pain was getting so bad in my back I started to cry a little and moan because I got that horrible feeling of needing to escape, but being unable to. He kept pouring hot water in when it was boiled. He was such an angel, helping me relax and kissing my forhead, making sure I was comfortable, just being his amazing self. At that point I would have gone nuts had he been gone. He is such an amazing man, so understanding and compassionate. His compassion is a trait that originally attracted me because it was just so uncommon in a young guy, and he still has it in a big dose. He was putting towels behind my neck and head and telling me to try to relax. I was impressed with how wonderful he was during CJ's birth, given the fact that I did not prepare him for it AT ALL. And this time, I only mentioned once my plan and that the way he could really help me was to keep me calm. Seriously... the guy is a natural. He went above and beyond. I am once again SO impressed with him.<br />
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He left again to fill up another bucket, as the water heater had refilled. He would leave and it felt almost instant like the pain got just so much worse. It was amazing though to go through the hardest contraction stage at the end in the water. I could move myself around with not much effort, unlike with CJ when I could not move at all. It helped the pain significantly, at least in my mind.<br />
I started to feel some (ahem) pressure, and was hoping that Rachel would bring the midwife soon so Clint did not have to deliver the baby. It seemed like it was taking forever for them to get there. I was calling Clint and telling him that I was going to need to push this thing out soon and he was pretty surprised. I kept thinking... why the heck am I here again? Why am I not at a hospital chilling out with the pain juice? Why am I pregnant again...? Why?! This is so STUPID.<br />
A few minutes later Clint said they were here. Rachel and Mary came in and I never opened my eyes to look at them. Right away Rachel started rubbing my arms and my hair and telling me what a good job I was doing, and Mary was rubbing my legs and telling me to keep it up. I never looked at them until the baby was born because right then it seemed the pain had jumped up a few notches right as they came in. I lost it emotionally and starting crying and moaning and just freaking out, and told them the head was right there and the baby was coming now. They started running around in a flurry. Clint was gone in the bathroom again filling up a bucket when things started really happening. I started freaking out that he wasn't there and began calling him and calling him and sticking out my hand where he was supposed to be. I felt him grab it and then he put his face up against mine and I started pushing the baby out. It lasted only a few minutes and I felt re-shocked about how horrific the pain was. It was just sick! I started screaming and surprised myself with how loud I could scream (ha!). I looked at Clint and then shut my eyes again. He was gripping my arm and I don't know what else because my mind just kind of left for awhile. After some time (I'll spare you the pushing details) the baby slipped out and again, my body was just in shock with the relief. It's really the wildest feeling to be at such a high level of pain and then within half a second, it's just gone.<br />
Clint went "OH MY WORD!!" and we were both smiling at each other and kissing and the baby cried for a couple of seconds; Rachel had the baby laying on it's side on a towel on the side of the pool. I saw right away it was a girl and Clint and I sort of whispered at each other that it was (I don't know why we were all quiet about it). I started shaking again and I was crying but there were no tears. I couldn't stop for some reason and I felt bad because I was truly very happy, and did not want him to feel like I was still upset or something. Clint was smiling and laughing and I felt just really weird, like I couldn't stop shaking and doing this weird crying thing, even though I was just so happy and relieved. I think my body was just in shock from the relief of the pain, and then the coldish water.<br />
Mary and Rachel were drying off the baby and doing who knows what else (I didn't really pay attention). They said, "should we see what this baby is?" and Clint and I laughed and said it was a girl. They finally gave her to me wrapped up in a towel and we both said right away that she looked so much like CJ did. We were just amazed at how perfect she was. Seriously, she did not look like she had just been born. Everything was smooth and beautiful on her little face and her teeny little head was perfectly round. I guess from being born in the water, she was very clean. We sat there for about 15 minutes before getting out. Mary had clamped the cord and then given Clint those funky little scissors to cut it. Once again it was a little weird seeing him cut it because it seemed like it should hurt the baby, although of course it doesn't. I'll stop there, but basically (among other things) the rest involved Clint carrying me up the stairs, laying me on the bed, and myself getting majorly fussed over (and me apologizing to him that I was heavier than usual... haha!). They weighed her and measured her and I took pictures from my perch. :) We named her Summer Eliza. She was 7 lbs 12 oz and has been just a beautiful bundle of sweetness ever since.<br />
Although at this point I still do not want to give birth ever again for the rest of my life, it was SO much less horrible than CJ's birth. I know that second babies and beyond are always supposed to be "easier" (HA), but I know that what kept me calm, in control, and avoiding another freak-out screaming saga was the relaxation practices I did. To anyone who thinks "it's going to hurt anyways"... it is. But practicing relaxation through pain, however silly it feels or seems, is totally worth it to keep you in a better mental and emotional place and not leave you with lasting hateful feelings toward the whole experience. Also to spare your husband of having to feel so helpless and sorry for you for hours and hours upon end. ;) It's hard on the guys when the woman they love is travailing for so long. And although I was miserable, staying calm I know spared him for growing some gray hairs, for which I am thankful. I did not have to drag him down to that depressing dark place with me for the whole 8 hours.<br />
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And now for a few photos. Because... what's a blog post without photos? I'm sure most of you have seen the photos on Facebook of right after she was born and that day. Those are on my in-law's camera so I don't have those. I just have what is on my phone. I need to get some professional photos done of Summer while she is little soon. I'm such a procrastinator.<br />
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First photo I took of her, about 2 hours after birth. </div>
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Clint ran into town and brought this beauty back for me as a surprise. I imagine labor burns an ungodly amount of calories, so I ate it without any qualms. </div>
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Summer's first night with us. </div>
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My little ball of pink chub!</div>
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You know how they say that men holding babies get a lot of female attention? There's a reason folks... a good reason.</div>
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It is so precious how CJ's nurturing instincts have kicked in since her birth. He asks to old her, and immediately starts softly patting her belly, kissing her head, looking at her tenderly (like below), rubbing noses, and talking in a soft, high pitched, girly voice, saying "Summer 'wiza! Such a cute little gorl! So little!"</div>
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For some reason CJ desperately wanted to have a (clean) wipe on his head with his beanie on top, and then he tried to blow up this popped balloon for awhile. Summer was amazed, apparently. </div>
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I thought CJ was little until Summer came... now he seems so massive. He is, I guess!</div>
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First stroller trip. CJ was very upset she was in his stroller. </div>
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Thumpity thump goes my beating heart...</div>
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Hopefully I'll manage to get some higher quality photos soon. She is five weeks old now and her face has developed differently. She is so adorable, I can't help but laughing sometimes when I'm holding her because her cuteness just hits me hard.<br />
For those who are wondering about her name...<br />
When CJ was a baby I heard the name Summer, and thought it sounded adorable paired with CJ. I asked Clint if he liked it, and he didn't. So I forgot about it. We did not get an ultrasound while I was pregnant with him. So our girl name was Eliza, and a boy would be named after Clint (aka CJ).<br />
While we were mulling over names for months and months while I was pregnant this time around, I suggested the name Summer. " I love that!" he said. Seriously? I thought he hated it. Turns out he doesn't. Over the many names we considered, we kept coming back to Summer (especially Clint). I felt pretty iffy about it just because I knew most people would not like it. It's kind of unusual, but not in a weird way. Paired with Eliza, it sounded so beautiful though... after she was born there was no question that was her name. I love it more and more everyday! Sometimes I call her Summer, sometimes Eliza, just because I just love both names.<br />
Anyway...'till next time.Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-8782324222709004822014-06-04T07:47:00.000-07:002014-06-04T07:47:28.372-07:00Future Plans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have been so busy lately. Focusing on my Plexus business, whipping up the world's most natural makeup (yay!) and figuring out patent issues, cost, packaging, etc., keeping up my daily life of hanging out with, teaching, and caring for my little mini man and then my main Man (not the teaching part...;-), being a wife and homemaker, working out, being pregnant (that takes up some energy...), our social activities and more. </div>
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I want to revamp this blog, give it a makeover, and dedicate some more time to it. So if you stumble across it one day and notice some weird changes, it's because I'm in the works of improving it's appearance. I'll be posting more photos and also adding in more health and fitness type content which I hope everyone enjoys.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xTb0uKWm98_Fl2YEMC5agKchOAcfLEiLbSsXnyNpNb6LMrJZvME0iN3LRPITJOivaOzokFye3k2KHlAj-nWebUlAriYoQ92_QiGmLC5OjOlGIvr6NY5D6i533BkpZfcy1D_LIyn8TCs/s1600/2014-06-03_13-37-59_823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xTb0uKWm98_Fl2YEMC5agKchOAcfLEiLbSsXnyNpNb6LMrJZvME0iN3LRPITJOivaOzokFye3k2KHlAj-nWebUlAriYoQ92_QiGmLC5OjOlGIvr6NY5D6i533BkpZfcy1D_LIyn8TCs/s1600/2014-06-03_13-37-59_823.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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Here's a little photo teaser of a cute little blonde boy who is very excited Mama let him have a marshmallow.</div>
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So, stay tuned! Talk about a boring post, I know. </div>
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-Hannah</div>
Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-88627295318958575822014-06-03T12:29:00.002-07:002014-06-03T12:38:34.123-07:00Tips on running more than 2 miles with a toddler, and other such seemingly impossible feats.I basically took off the entire winter from running. Besides random short treadmill runs during naptime and running during our three weeks in California, I hardly ran at all. It was just too darn cold this winter to even go alone ( I hate being cold). And I could definitely not take CJ out in the cold. When he was a litttle guy, I could cover in in blankets except for a hole for his nose, and he would be content and warm. Well, that no longer satisfies him, he must be eating or reading a book for his entire stay in the stroller. It's hard to eat with bulky gloves on, and he's pretty cold-intolerant like myself, so the running would have to wait. The last winter run I took him on I felt so guilty, because he was perfectly still with his bright purple hands (since he refused to wear gloves) sticking out to the side in total misery. I felt like a terrible mother! I flew home and defrosted him, babied him, and tended his every wish that day.<br />
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So this spring, I have been so excited to get out the door with him again. Talk about a shock though...he must have gained 15 pounds since the last time I ran with him. Try pushing a 30lb toddler up miles worth of hills in a 45lb + stroller carrying water, a phone, two baby books, snacks, a small gun, etc. OH HELP. Why can't my road be flat?? If you ever want to really feel the burn in your legs, do what I do. It is ROUGH. Anyway...as CJ has not been in the stroller for months, my first run with him in it was very interesting.<br />
We get out onto the road, and about 20 ft into the run, he is all done with his popcorn and insists I take it from him.<br />
Then he needs to wipe off his hands.<br />
Then he'd like his water.<br />
Then he'd like his popcorn again.<br />
Never mind! He wants to get out.<br />
So he stands up facing me and talking to me incessantly about the birds and demanding answers or recognition of whatever he says (as I am dying pushing his weight and not really feeling too chatty).<br />
Then he squeals hello at the creepy neighbor guy that I always avoid and try to sneak past.<br />
After being buckled (I decide to strap him down), the popcorn scene ensues again.<br />
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Needless to say, my 4 mile run turned into an out-and-back 2 miler, because my brain was going to pop open. CJ needed something every 15 seconds, so I had to stop every 15 seconds. He was definitely not used to this stroller thing, and it was very discouraging. How on earth would I get my runs in if he couldn't handle it?<br />
But I went again anyway. And again and again. And I discovered that with each little stroller run, CJ grew more and more accustomed to it. Like muscle memory. And yes, although he needs some maintenance every seven or eight minutes, he knows now that it's not the end of the world to sit there for 30 minutes or so eating popcorn and fruit and drinking juice.<br />
So now that I've gabbed on forever, here are some pointers I've figured out for running with a toddler successfully. If you are a serious runner, as in training for a race and timing your paces, intervals, and splits, I would not recommend stroller running. You need a konked out kid that weighs less than 10 pounds to get an "normal" seeming mile times.<br />
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What I've learned while running with an opinionated toddler:<br />
(not in order, as usual)<br />
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1. Bring more than one snack. My go-to since he learned to love it has been popcorn with coconut oil, nutritional yeast and salt, which is one of CJ's all-time favorite foods. Now that his palate has expanded, he gets bored with this. So I bring other options...either sliced fruit, a granola bar, or actual granola that he has to pick up with his fingers, therefore being more time-consuming to eat. This keeps him interested.<br />
2. Something to sip on! I used to just bring water, but now I've discovered that if he has a bottle of juice with a straw, he is entertained with that for several minutes.<br />
3. His favorite book. CJ has one book he is always excited to read. It has about a hundred different photos of planes, trains, tractors, 4 wheelers, trucks, dirt bikes, etc. If he decides to be completely dissinterested in any kind of food, I hand him this and it *usually* does the trick.<br />
4. Biggest tip of all! This should be number 1, but I don't feel like rearranging everything. I never feed CJ a meal or snack within an hour or two of when we got running. Might sound cruel. But if he has eaten too recently, he doesnt' care at all about his stroller snacks and is much more difficult to entertain for a few miles. When I say we're going to go running, he knows it means it's time to eat and he is excited to go.<br />
5. An electronic device. If I had a tablet of some form, I would never go running without it. Whenever I want to run a little longer and CJ has no interest in the options before him, I give him my phone and let him watch old video clips of himself. He loves it. It's a last resort though, because I usually use my phone for music.<br />
6. An open mind. Maybe this should be number 1. Hmmmm. If you are going to be running with your baby or toddler most of the time, don't ever, ever, ever expect to not be interrupted! A short 3 mile run will take you at least 10 or 15 minutes longer. It might get frustrating, but once you train your own mind (as you train their's), it's not so bad. The way I see it, is I am blessed to have a good running stroller, I'm getting a much harder workout having to push the weight of a large dog, my baby is breathing in fresh air, and... I'm doing what I love. I cannot tell you how many times I had to stop and nurse CJ on my first ventures out when he was just a teeny little thing. At times it can be frustrating... I just want to run x-amount of miles and be done! But it's not that way, and it's okay. Start off small, and once your kid gets used to it--and likes it-- go farther.<br />
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Of course the obvious solution is to get a babysitter. All of my sitters (who are all family) live close to twenty minutes away, so I prefer not to do the whole ordeal of driving there, running, socializing, driving home, and having a huge chunk of my day taken out. I did this quite a bit when he was an infant, but for day-to-day running, I just need to be able to walk out my door and go.<br />
We'll see how it goes with two little humans to push in a few months. I'm not expecting good things, but hey... many have done it before me and many will after me. CJ has helped me rack up experience for the last 2 years, and maybe that will help. Maybe this next baby will be a quiet little mouse type so CJ can talk it's ear off. :)<br />
-Hannah<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1sdM9lBLEYp6hE3vE7r-ZY6sdxwu7VxI9pva_uSOoeYD-K_d_2XC0AecFvHZBo73HxP0KqDsQaXh4gbuuezTClkMdFI2aimo_BkcjOi5V9kfbwkhdnzEQY5drwQunJRz_lky7kmW7lik/s1600/IMG_1206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1sdM9lBLEYp6hE3vE7r-ZY6sdxwu7VxI9pva_uSOoeYD-K_d_2XC0AecFvHZBo73HxP0KqDsQaXh4gbuuezTClkMdFI2aimo_BkcjOi5V9kfbwkhdnzEQY5drwQunJRz_lky7kmW7lik/s1600/IMG_1206.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Was he not just the sweetest little running buddy ever?!</div>
<br />Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-81206605442873129432014-06-02T12:25:00.000-07:002014-06-02T14:27:01.764-07:00My trick to chasing pregnancy-induced sciatic back pain away!There's pregnancy back pain....<br />
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...and then there's pregnancy back pain.</div>
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Most pregnant women suffer from some sort of back pain due to the weight of the baby pulling at the spine, causing the mother to arch her back and thus throw her spine out of alignment and cause a lot of strain. </div>
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Then there is sciatic back pain, and if you have ever dealt with this, you know it can take over your whole life. It's located very low on the back pretty much at the top of the butt (normally on one side) and feels like pinching, burning nerve pain or sometimes like bones rubbing together angrily. It can be miserable and has a complete mind of it's own, and not really massage-able. It will limit you hugely as it's not just a "sore" feeling, but an actual something-is-severely-wrong kind of pain that can knock you to the floor or make you cry.</div>
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While pregnant with CJ, I remember having limited amount of this pain. I remember laying outside on our concrete pad under the sun to tan, and without fail every time, this pain would haunt me when I tried to get up. I quickly learned not to lay on concrete (which seems pretty obvious). That was pretty much it.</div>
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This time around though, the sciatica has flared up so very badly, that it had handicapped me... a lot. Most mornings I would wake up feeling back to normal, but by the end of the day I could barely walk. Nothing helped at all... no amount of stretching, ab work, resting, walking, rubbing or moping around would help it whatsoever. If I sat on our couch I was pretty much glued to it unless I wanted to cause myself some major pain by attempting to get up. So I never sat down during the day for more than a minute until Clint came home and we were watching a movie or reading. Then it would take me 5 minutes to get up and go limping pathetically over to the bed. </div>
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I was beginning to feel so extremely frustrated... this was no way to live. If I worked out, my back was on fire afterwards. If I didn't work out, my back was on fire afterwards. This sciatica limited me from doing a lot of things with my little boy and from feeling good at all. This is no way to live waddling around every day just tolerating the pains or being stopped in my tracks whenever it chose to get especially nasty. Welcoming my husband home from work with a big wince on my face wasn't too cool either. I didn't want to be stuck at the chiropractor all the time... I wanted the problem solved.</div>
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Then one day it just dawned on me. As I mentioned above, prenatal sciatic back pain is located so low on the back, it's pretty much at the top of the butt and will control your whole leg (thus severe pain while walking). It's joking referred to as the "pain in the butt back pain". It occurred to me that perhaps if the glute muscle was consistently fired up, activated, and being used all day, that it would support whatever terrorist activity is going on in there and ease the sciatic pain. They say ab work will help prevent pregnancy back pain, but I realized that the exact location of this specific back pain really had nothing to do with my abs. And besides, I tried that (a lot) already.</div>
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So, when I woke up in the morning the next day feeling back to normal, I immediately spent 20 minutes or so working out JUST the glute muscle... not even squats or lunges. I did hundreds of donkey kicks, glute bridges, and side leg lifts. When I got up and commenced my day, I made a conscious effort to always be keeping my heel to the floor with each stride so as to keep my glutes contracted. I went running and instead of just running "with my legs", and straigtened out my back leg (which flexes the glute muscle) with each stride. What can I say... it took a lot of subconscious flexing throughout the whole entire day. But my WORD!! I had NO pain the rest of the day and for the days afterward. One day I forgot to do my little butt routine (hehe...) and the pain returned with full force. I've learned my lesson now and was amazed that I found NO info on the internet about activating the glutes all day long to scare away sciatic pain. Seems like there would be more info about how to ACTUALLY cure this by providing stronger support.</div>
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It all makes sense right? It makes sense because it works. I'm not a fitness nutcase or rock hard bodybuilder, but I work out regularly and would consider myself to be pretty strong. I wouldn't have thought my glutes were weak. BUT... by completely isolating the glute muscle in the morning and totally exhausting it, it stays activated and will provide support to eliminate sciatic back pain. During the day if I ever feel the pain threatening to come back, I'll do standing donkey kicks (basically a straight-leg back kick) 20 times or so and it instantly feels better. The glutes aren't just one big muscle that squats will do the trick for. It needs to activated at several different angles, and that is what I was missing.</div>
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Despite how much I'd just love to post photos and instructions on each exercises, I don't really have the time (or feel like it, ha!). If you don't know the exact form or how to do any of these, just type it into google or search it on YouTube, and you'll find thousands of other's willing to demonstrate for you. ;)</div>
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So here's a quick, simple, easy little routine that could change your pregnant life! Change up the reps to more or less. This is just a short version.</div>
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<b>20 (each) Standing side leg lifts.</b> (stand as normal, left one leg directly out to the side with glute muscle activated and lift parallel to the floor side a straight-legged side kick, drop back down).</div>
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<b>40 (each) Kneeling Donkey Kicks </b></div>
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<b>30 Glute Bridges</b></div>
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<b>20 (each) Lying side leg-lifts</b> (Lie down on your side with head supported by hand, elbow on floor, top arm resting with hand on hip. Raise top leg as high as you can while activated the glute muscle, lower down to the floor).</div>
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Repeat 2x (or more)</div>
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I do a lot of variations of these very simple exercises. For the leg lifts, I'll often add a squat before kicking out to the side, or hold a heavy dumbell. For the donkey kicks, I wear ankle weights that tend to naturally force the butt muscle to contract. I also alternate between straight leg donkey kicks and bent leg. For the glute bridges, add a weight resting on your hips for resistance or alternate between lifting one let out in the air with each rep. A lot of times I will do the donkey kicks with either my hands of toes balancing on a stability ball which makes it more difficult. And of course there are so many other butt-specific moves (especially in Pilates and ballet-style workouts) that could be added to this. There are several more I do along with these (to keep from boredom) that I will perhaps post later.</div>
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Obviously, this isn't some ground breaking workout. It's just an example of what has changed my life the last few weeks to almost completely eliminate sciatic back pain during this pregnancy that was such a pain in the butt, it was depressing. My goal in posting this is to hopefully help any of the other preggos out there who are suffering from this! I tried constant squats, variations of squats, core workouts, and more. But the only thing that has made any ounce of difference is isolated glute exercises that don't really seem that hard. Even stretching was very painful. It worked for me and I think it could work for many other's. When you discover something that really affected your life, you naturally want to share. </div>
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So to you other girls who have this special kind of pregnancy pain... work that booty!</div>
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-Hannah</div>
Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-37023183376305786882014-04-09T11:10:00.000-07:002014-04-09T11:10:10.830-07:00Life has returned.Well, spring has sprung.<br />
I wonder how many blogs out there have mentioned the beginning of spring? I'm guessing a serious amount. I hate to be all cheesy and cliche, but it's spring people, and it's awesome.<br />
My life changes in the spring time since living in TN. Growing up, spring meant it was green for a month before the dryness of summer hit, but the temperature was not really different from winter (60's and 70's). There was no huge universal sigh of relief whenever spring came along. No escape from insufferable weather. Well here, it was in the single digits this winter, goshdarnit, so spring is really a huge deal.<br />
I just hate being cold. I really do. I'm a total baby about it, I know. But I'm guessing it has something to do with having only been in the snow once in 17 years of life before moving to Tennessee and getting a severe weather and culture shock.<br />
After three blissful years of marriage in this beautiful state, Winter and I are still on bad terms. I just don't get it. Why? Why does it have to be so cold?<br />
That being said, I absolutely adore the spring and all of the promise it brings. The promise of all the adventures we have outside, promises of cookouts and long, humid nights of volleyball with creek dips in between games, lots of running, soaking up the sun, swimming and jumping off of bluffs into the river, boating, tubing, a happy little boy, frizzy hair, way too much produce, a bright green countryside, utter terror of coming across a snake... the list goes on. I love warm weather. And trust me people, you ain't been through no fun summer until you've summer'd in Cane Creek.<br />
Aside from all the spring cleaning buzz and sudden dire need I discover within myself to paint something or completely rearrange my entire house, I love the warmer weather because my priorities change. It really does have this sense of refreshment and renewal to it. Spring is inspiring. I get all organized and am truly excited to (attempt to) be Super Woman. I know I'm not alone. For centuries, spring cleaning has been a common and even fun practice.<br />
So, here's another cheesy little "I love" list. Because I know you've been just itching for me to write another one.<br />
Things I'm Loving<br />
-Clint.<br />
-Hearing the birds every morning start to sing.<br />
-Hearing a little teeny voice say "Mama, hear bird??!" while the cherub face looks anxiously out the window.<br />
-Throwing open all the windows every morning and breathing in sweet smelling fresh air that...GASP!...isn't freezing cold.<br />
-Having huge piles of weeds, leaves, and wildflowers brought ever so lovingly over to me by my little blonde boy.<br />
-Long evenings with my Sweetheart spent reading, being sat on by a 30 pound child who is just completely star-struck with his Daddy, laughing at said child's antics, and talking nonstop.<br />
-Iced Honduran coffee that I paid absolutely way too much for.<br />
-Finding wasps flying around all over my house (just kidding).<br />
-The freedom to wear flip-flops without looking like a complete nut-case.<br />
-A sunburnt man coming home to me who isn't practically frostbitten.<br />
-A baby bump that just got all official in the last few days.<br />
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What are the biggest life changes you have noticed this Spring? Mine are obviously pretty simple... but I love the simple. It's all those pleasant little things that add up in life and make it beautiful.<br />
<br />Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-59234537659566888012014-03-26T08:18:00.001-07:002014-03-26T08:18:41.839-07:00Hiya folks!Boy oh boy has it been awhile! Yesterday we *finally* got hooked up to the internet at our house, so we've been enjoying that luxury for about 18 hours now (wink). This morning I woke up early with Clint to see him off, and I managed to get about 80% of my to-do list done already, and the child is still sleeping, so I'm feeling pretty good about that right now.<br />
So I came to my blog.<br />
My own poor little neglected blog that I gave up trying to maintain as my life became busier and busier. For months now, I have wanted to pick it back up because I loved writing "on" it, and I've recently had a ton of people tell me I should. The stubborn bone that resides in my body is extremely large (i'ts my spine or something), so usually if a ton of people are pressuring me into something, I go against the flow there. I have no explanation for this, but apparently my husband has this too. This annoyed my sister to vast amounts in our teenage years, but her and our friends had a hard time convincing me to do something I didn't feel like doing (like going shopping that day, or something little like that). Stupid I know, but I was a lot worse in my younger years. Then I got married and that stubborn bone basically disintegrated, and I will only be resistant every once in awhile now.<br />
Reading over the last post I ever posted, I couldn't help from cracking up. My life was so different then, but still just the same. Of course CJ wasn't a jabbering, strong-willed, busy little man then as he is now, and my life has more things going on in it. Oh, and that year I thought that 29 degrees was cold, but this year, we were in the negatives.<br />
So as my little "honey, I'm home!" to this dear blog of mine, I will write out another "things I'm loving right now" in memory of my very last blog post about a year and a half ago. So here goes.<br />
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Things I am Loving Right Now<br />
(not in order)<br />
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1. Gevalia coffee. Perhaps it's my Swedish lineage that has influenced me to love this stuff...I do not know. But it is good, people, and it's affordable. Which is it's first virtue.<br />
2."Momu". Yes, my 2 year old child has nick-named me, and discovered that I am such a sucker for this nick-name that I will basically do anything he wants when he calls me this. Pronounced "Mom-oo", it's is just about the most adorable thing coming out of his little rosebud mouth.<br />
3.My man. I'm loving him every season, but I realize "more" (if that makes sense) with every week that goes by, that I really DID get a 1-in-10-million. I'm going to cut my gushing short for now because I am sensing a seriously long paragraph about him coming on.<br />
4. Busyness. I LOVE being (controllably) busy with my writing, my work, my goals, my little family.<br />
5. Feeling little Teddy move. Clint nick-named CJ while he was still in the womb and he's done it again. We are not finding out the gender with this baby, but he still calls it Teddy. He's kinda nutty, I know, but it's the adorable kind of nutty. You should hear my multiple nick-names.<br />
6. The sun! This precious fire-ball that brings happiness to many, basically hid the entire winter, and lately it has been showing it's lovely face. It was N-E-V-E-R sunny this winter.<br />
7. The ability to run! I love staying fit while being pregnant and running has proven to be an empowering outlet for me there. As I read the last post I had ever written here, it was interesting for me to see my thoughts so long ago about running. I had just gotten into it.<br />
8. My perpetually flat jogging stroller tire. (just kidding)<br />
9. Cheese balls from Amish markets. Ha! Clint has been working on a big building the last few days, and has been bringing me home delicious little treats from this place. The last two nights we've been battling over the remnants of a bacon-garlic cheese ball he brought back. This stuff was even better than it sounds and Clint will forever get a thousand kisses for each cheese-ball he brings home to me (I'm hoping he'll read this).<br />
10. "Zay-zay", which is how CJ calls himself. Yesterday a stranger asked his name... he got this huge bashful smile, pointed at himself and said "Name...Zay-zay", then looked away smiling in embarrassment. It was so adorable, I'll never forget it.<br />
11. "Flower trees" which is how I explained to CJ why on earth there were flowers on the trees. Spring is here, and there are beautiful white and red buds everywhere, and I guess this phenomenon was very shocking to him.<br />
12. A tall, sunburnt, incredibly wise, funny, intelligent and sexy guy coming home to me everyday. He makes me laugh at dumb jokes and can do the ultimate redneck vocal impression. His mind will forever fascinate me and he looks ridiculously handsome when he's staring at whatever he's reading with his eye brows furrowed. I love him, people. He brings me cheese balls and dried apricots.<br />
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And that'll be it for my little list for now. In case you didn't know (which basically everyone knows, so that isn't likely), we are expecting our second little angel in August! CJ was not "planned". In fact, learning we were pregnant with him was a complete shock... he came about two years earlier than what we were originally intending, haha. But as I'm sure just about any married couple can atest to, it's perty darn easy to get yerself in the family way. (blush) After he was born I was worried about getting pregnant quickly again... of course we want children, but it's our preference to have them with healthy space so we can enjoy each one in the stage it is in. So, my whole point is... we are SO excited for this new little bundle!! It's a strong little kicker and its made its nest in my waist, haha. It is due in August, and of course I am hoping for an early birth (to make up for CJ's three week late arrival). I am looking forward to going through the summer pregnant, which might sound strange to some.<br />
Going through pregnancy for the second time is a whole 'nother story than with the first. But that is a different post for a different time.<br />
Which is my cue. It's been real. It's been nice. It's been real nice. I plan to update this puppy a couple of times a week but don't hold me to it or anything.<br />
To close this, here's a close-up of a little angel face. And some lashes to envy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShy2aRaFax95X6R9lSN4IOR3NGxeDzpeqBplI4v8C-Dxrbm5wZkTwIMyY4qVUF5FXgQKN9IFhBRobwFOX21DyPS19_11wR77Vx2UzzWUj6bttC-u9VWCKAwqGc1cZCtJkNTNJPmzK9wU/s1600/DSC05185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShy2aRaFax95X6R9lSN4IOR3NGxeDzpeqBplI4v8C-Dxrbm5wZkTwIMyY4qVUF5FXgQKN9IFhBRobwFOX21DyPS19_11wR77Vx2UzzWUj6bttC-u9VWCKAwqGc1cZCtJkNTNJPmzK9wU/s1600/DSC05185.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-21281424491889184172012-11-19T17:32:00.002-08:002012-11-19T17:32:39.467-08:00<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Things I am loving this season:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The genuine, organic warmth of a wood stove blazing and warming my home.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A cup of hot coffee to warm my veins in the frosty mornings.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Seeing my One and Only go to work looking sexy in his hugely warm Carhartt jacket. (okay, I don't like seeing him leave... but he looks handsome all the same...)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Seat warmers!.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Chocolate almond milk warmed up. Wow.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A freshly awakened blonde baby boy warmed from sleep with bright rosy cheeks and a very confused expression.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My vast collection of warm, fuzzy socks that are purely for comfort and absolutely not for looks.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My good ol’ faithful warm Charlotte Russe sweats that are missing both buttons on the back pockets and the draw string.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Watching my Man devour my warm tortilla soup invented by <i>mois</i> that he just adores.(the soup, although he adores me too)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The satisfaction of feeling Clint’s warm hands hold my ever frozen ones.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My warm hot pink/orange/purple knit Pier 1 throw blanket some well-to-do Nashville-ite tossed that I snagged for $2.99 at Goodwill.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Wow. I’m noticing a theme. I’m super into being warm. Why is that? OH! I know! It’s because I live in Tennessee and the winters are like death here! I would never survive in Michigan. I was bred for warm to moderate temperatures and to be either barefoot or in flip flops throughout every season. When you come home from Nashville in the evening and your car thermometer says 29 degrees, you know something is up.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But thankfully I have acquired a new skill. Actually, I acquired it last year, but have been able to weild it much more as of late. I am an expert wood stove fire builder girl. Really, I can whip out a fire from scratch in no time. (I do use matches. Is that cheating?) My Man didn’t believe me until recently when I proved it to him. This definitely makes my winter much more pleasant and has sown a strange love within me for building fires. Really, I enjoy it. There is something very satisfying about getting it done. I have become a huge promoter of woods stoves: it’s amazingly cheap (living in the woods really makes firewood quite easily attainable), and the warmth is pure; so different from central heat, which makes me feel tingly and hot and my cheeks turn bright red (not cool). We don’t have that wicked bill every month, and it feels so... so... woodsy. What is there not to like?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Lately I have been on a baking extravaganza. I made four apple pies in one week, which Clint devoured. I am supremely jealous of him; he is incredibly toned, one ripped out six feet of lean muscle, approximately 0% body fat, can eat anything he wants, all day long, the most caloric stuff, and his weight never changes. It’s not fair. He could breathe in the whole Maggiano’s kitchen and still have the body of an elite athlete. He also has an insane vertical and is a volleyball beast, basketball extroirdinare, and excels at every other sport he tries. And he never works out. That’s the disturbing part. Oh, and his eyelashes are really long. What is up with this world???</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I made peanut butter cookies on Wednesday, which he finished off in about four hours (they were the most perfect consistency ever... I don’t blame him...), chocolate and white chip cookies last night (which he ate most of), and am itching to bake more if I wasn’t trying to lose a couple pounds and didn’t have such an uncontrollable love affair with dough. Cookie dough is my nemesis. My mother in law kept a bowl of egg-less batter in her fridge for a couple of weeks specifically engineered for my enjoyment. I’m pretty sure I should be embarrassed by this. But I ate it unashamedly. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have also been running lately. A lot. I have “run” for several years for the exercise benefits, but never pushed myself and never ran a full mile without stopping (this is embarrassing to admit!). After the baby was born I decided enough was enough and I needed to become a real runner-- as in not stopping for miles and actually being fit. And I’ve done that. My first 5k was a wake up call to my inability compared to other runners. Therefore, I’ve been on a successful running stint for a few months now and am proud to say that I can run without stopping. For miles.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Over the course of achieving that goal, running has become more than a fitness/weight loss regimen for me. I love it now. It’s a daily habit I can’t skip. If I do, I feel unaccomplished for the day. Something is missing. It’s what makes me feel strong, capable, and in control of myself. And being able to see the long miles of running become easier and shave minutes off my “time”, makes all that sucking-in-air-for-life-after-a-long-hill feeling worth it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I was blessed before CJ’s birth to find a good deal on a good quality jogging stroller. It is by far my favorite piece of baby gear that is indespensible to me, next to diapers and wipes. And clothes. And blankets I guess. I use it every single day for more than just running... I couldn’t do without it! Every day he and I head out for “our” run... a couple times a week Clint will take him so I can run alone. BOY, when you’re used to pushing a 25 lb. child in a 40 plus pound stroller up and down hills, you feel like an Olympian when you’re running without it. I’m positive that pushing that stroller has made me a stronger runner. I'd highly recommend it although it can be painful.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Clint supports me in my athletic endevors, and I in his. It’s our little unspoken exchange. Of course, my abilites pale beside his. He’s amazing. *sigh* He hates to run, but he can run like nobody’s business. Lucky him... he ran once... ONCE... before our 5k early this year, and finished at 22 minutes. He never runs, did one practice run, and that’s how fast he did the hilly course? Is any one else amazed? I can’t get over it.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">While I’m babbling on from one topic to the next, my Babelette (as Clint calls our mini-Clint) is snoozing and my Man is driving home from work with a huge load of old shingles on his trailer. I can’t wait for him to come home... he’s my best friend, my companion, my LOVE, and a thousand other things I can’t even define.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My faithful commenters are my dear friend Beth and my lovely (crazy) friend Morgen... but I want to hear from the rest of you too, or I will shut down the blog. Yes, that was a threat. Therefore, I’ll be asking a couple questions for y’all to answer. I used that word JUST for you.</span></div>
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<li style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What ways do you stay in shape? Running? Biking? Weights? Are you insane enough to do Insanity?</span></li>
<li style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What is skill/sport/talent your man excels at (if you have one...*wink*...) that you are crazy proud of and makes your heart go thumpity-thump?</span></li>
<li style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If you are a runner, what is your fastest 5k time? (you tell me, I’ll tell you)</span></li>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Let’s hear it! Wow that sounded super inspirational. Don't you want to comment now that I added that little excited "let's hear it!" at the end there? I think that'll be my new signature. </span></div>
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Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-55635986182143820152012-10-25T11:49:00.000-07:002012-10-25T11:49:31.823-07:00Ladies, get in line.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is a picture post.</div>
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Wow! How unusual. Before I begin to write again on my blog, I have to blog (photos) for a little while so I gain gain inspiration. I am so out of the blogging sphere, I really don't have anything attention-grabbing to say. Therefore, this post is simply to visually update my friends who are curious on the wonders of our beautiful, plump offspring.</div>
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We are busy with who-knows-what as usual, and happy as clams. CJ is getting smarter, (much) more mobile, and funnier by the day. Not to mention cuter. He says "Mama", "Da", and most recently, "ba" for 'boo'. He is a major flirt and is a favorite with the ladies. What can I say.</div>
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His all-time favorite person is Clint. He LOVES his daddy. He'll be fussy until he can just sit on his lap. Clint is awe-inspiring, amazing, and the funniest entertainment ever in CJ's little eyes. Sigh... like mother like son!</div>
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Really? How could anyone not pick this creature up from the confines of his crib?</div>
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CJ practices the lost art of the burrito tongue. </div>
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Stoll boys mature early I guess. CJ is not one to be left behind.</div>
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He discovered that he could climb under the coffee table, and let me tell ya... this discovery thrills his soul.</div>
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"So this is love... so this is love... so thhhhiiiiiiisssss is what my heeeaarrrttttt's been dreaming ooooffffffff!!"</div>
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It was near impossible to get a decent photo of the cousin's. They wouldn't stop moving.</div>
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In my rush to put CJ's shorts on (actually, he was very angry about getting dressed, so it's really his fault...), this happened.Th</div>
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Sometimes I look into my baby's eyes, and I see my Man. He has that same soft, dreamy, sleepy look in his eyes that just kills me, makes my heart skip a beat, makes the drool spill out of my mouth, has me kissing the ground Clint walks on, makes me swoon... you get the point. CJ looks like Clint.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0BIRRjjKS3nNEP-X-H7YV0mQu0Lo5kapCQK0pxClHWujeKKXWOO0Oqt3UKEI1I6v68rnjLqKXgPh4TtjMWYAQLns9iIAQluhNbLUPF0aHWgK6JRQHcrtbEgfM6LUVHU_mqE1B6LEI1w/s1600/DSC04243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0BIRRjjKS3nNEP-X-H7YV0mQu0Lo5kapCQK0pxClHWujeKKXWOO0Oqt3UKEI1I6v68rnjLqKXgPh4TtjMWYAQLns9iIAQluhNbLUPF0aHWgK6JRQHcrtbEgfM6LUVHU_mqE1B6LEI1w/s320/DSC04243.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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There's your update. Maybe someday I'll have something more intelligent to say on here. But there: I've fed your hungry hearts with photos of my beauteous child. </div>
Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-85764268957698676562012-08-17T15:18:00.000-07:002012-08-17T15:19:08.599-07:00Of fatness and summertime. <br />
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Oh my. It has returned.</div>
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Or I have returned, I suppose I should say. It has been many, many moons since I have posted. I have a huge, strapping 20lb six month old and the summer is leaving. I know this, because the leaves fall every once in awhile onto our lawn and it angers me, because I love summer. I don't want it to go. I want the heat to leave but when the heat leaves, the cold comes, and the creek is no longer something to look forward to. So as my Dad would say, it's a catch 22. Whatever that means.</div>
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Anyway, picture update. CJ is the joy of our lives! He is everyone's favorite little fatty... seriously, I don't think I go somewhere without someone telling me he's "awful perty". He's quite popular with the ladies at a few of the local stores here, not including the church girls. And the sister-in-laws. And the Grandma's. And the millions of relatives. Basically... he's loved.</div>
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The poor child has had enough photo shoots in his life, and decided enough was enough after about 700 photos (notice the unpleasant expression above).</div>
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I love my slim man and my fat boy!</div>
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Is he not the cutest creature you've ever seen? Am I blind?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgk5d62LFbfTru3dCl2ySNJE8iIXZwv3fGOFu6f0OW0J3_2321v5KrRagsmuAMTW7ZJqwVLJUNfWkUtpn26e8FVlnRwFieL1ntNNoKXbW8-j57aVR7yF3q5EnFyUhChbjtdwjE6gRE8E/s1600/IMG_5446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgk5d62LFbfTru3dCl2ySNJE8iIXZwv3fGOFu6f0OW0J3_2321v5KrRagsmuAMTW7ZJqwVLJUNfWkUtpn26e8FVlnRwFieL1ntNNoKXbW8-j57aVR7yF3q5EnFyUhChbjtdwjE6gRE8E/s320/IMG_5446.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Nope, I'm not.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_INfFTHplRsO03XCM7dyD-6uTieYQ4tl67O90_Q6tW824z_A9ZepabAdgWrGtU19zyIFUhntklI-_Xi-e5WjiFqltj3jYu4f7-ZZZPLIv134o9-qWt94W46AVzZSRjphrq4D4cLpxmw/s1600/IMG_5355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_INfFTHplRsO03XCM7dyD-6uTieYQ4tl67O90_Q6tW824z_A9ZepabAdgWrGtU19zyIFUhntklI-_Xi-e5WjiFqltj3jYu4f7-ZZZPLIv134o9-qWt94W46AVzZSRjphrq4D4cLpxmw/s320/IMG_5355.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo credit to Liz Stewart. If I knew how to do fancy links, this is where I would add it. So instead, her site is: ElizabethStewartPhotography.blogspot.com. She does most of No Greater Joy's photography work and drives a bright yellow Bug that has a huge "Baby Doll" sticker on the back. Vital info. She is also a great friend and even spent a few hours "babysitting" us before our wedding. She was very, very strict. But we still love you Lizzy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu51IwDC8qkoeO3S80h774GHd05abFX4xMquGrxVzIFEDfw9jrIrfbF5qEa9lU9TbXN1NAuluQeRmkb_F-8hDLUyGE6PYofp0fYpS9OImiICIzKZA_F6uw_6X-HpY45LD_4IBRjMKFleM/s1600/DSC04161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu51IwDC8qkoeO3S80h774GHd05abFX4xMquGrxVzIFEDfw9jrIrfbF5qEa9lU9TbXN1NAuluQeRmkb_F-8hDLUyGE6PYofp0fYpS9OImiICIzKZA_F6uw_6X-HpY45LD_4IBRjMKFleM/s320/DSC04161.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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No one has perfected the just-woke-up lazy-eyed look like CJ. Here he is, fresh from the crib, dazed and confused.</div>
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Apart from being super cute, he's also brilliant. </div>
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The danger of putting a six month old boy with advanced athletic abilities on the counter-top in his pink chair? He will do anything, ANYTHING, to reach the decor.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHx2_N8TDZ4I_G62MHCJWhBzBCVdA_Z8tnoe_7o28CV7M9Edoih9y724EawrVQd5txY3IfjzS0BipgFD2x63c74NuXT7rBH-T8XgDQDGse2nvZBlAWaEr4ZIdQ1hFP_wVNEOIdmb4WcfI/s1600/DSC04114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHx2_N8TDZ4I_G62MHCJWhBzBCVdA_Z8tnoe_7o28CV7M9Edoih9y724EawrVQd5txY3IfjzS0BipgFD2x63c74NuXT7rBH-T8XgDQDGse2nvZBlAWaEr4ZIdQ1hFP_wVNEOIdmb4WcfI/s320/DSC04114.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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We had a couple of weeks of ridiculously hot weather here... I'm talkin' 107, 108 degree days. Couple that with humidity, and you learn what it really is like to be overheated. I put a wet washcloth on CJ's head whenever he was too distracted to notice. What can I say? He wears it well.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-p3plasKYZfOVROGwemTYgYp896X0vTdvutzjiNoL_s2iQUDhpil2PNR_kz6kS7Qa82ucjwEPBLS7i3KZLTM53tdZHBfdajYdkjMGYkzJUuyFwFPw7MB3TzPzJbYKpdwYFsK0g6oqOUw/s1600/DSC04044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-p3plasKYZfOVROGwemTYgYp896X0vTdvutzjiNoL_s2iQUDhpil2PNR_kz6kS7Qa82ucjwEPBLS7i3KZLTM53tdZHBfdajYdkjMGYkzJUuyFwFPw7MB3TzPzJbYKpdwYFsK0g6oqOUw/s320/DSC04044.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Trying to strangle himself. Boys! Sheesh.</div>
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In the summertime, most evenings we're either playing basketbal, volleyball, or swimming (sometimes all three!). Clint continues to get better, and better, and better, and better at basketball. I can't say much about volleyball because...well... volleyball is his name. He and the ball are one. Trust me, it's too deep for us mere mortals to understand.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg14m5-zZWMlE4S8YYpz-x0GOyKCZqSu1OXhOLy5YsdfWUqdOcO9IDiLoj0g0MNmaHpms0pL7B4keicn74Te1HfC-1EBOQQ0CnVCjqDpkcBHy3TGNbSyxhKOBH7axnXf-xP8v8lryi1CeE/s1600/DSC03980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg14m5-zZWMlE4S8YYpz-x0GOyKCZqSu1OXhOLy5YsdfWUqdOcO9IDiLoj0g0MNmaHpms0pL7B4keicn74Te1HfC-1EBOQQ0CnVCjqDpkcBHy3TGNbSyxhKOBH7axnXf-xP8v8lryi1CeE/s320/DSC03980.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This photo is extremely important. It showcases one of the rare moments that Young Fatty is asleep at the court with a bunch of noise going on in my arms. Of course, this only happens if he hasn't taken a single nap all day long, and falls over with exhaustion. It's like he's reverting to his babyhood instead of being so grown up like he is. It brings out all of my motherly feelings.</div>
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We've spent so many evenings swimming after Clint gets home... CJ just adores it. (and if you think Clint looks tan here... this ain't nothin' compared to the color he came home with during that heat streak...it was like he lived in a tanning bed for a week.)</div>
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I can't get over how gorgeous he is! MMM!</div>
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That's all for today folks!</div>
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Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-34340597992639027292012-06-03T13:14:00.002-07:002012-06-03T13:14:21.655-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Well, it's been awhile. My blog has pretty much kerplopped. Believe me, I've made many an attempt to post but we had to leave, the baby was crying, the pictures wouldn't upload... so that's my excuse.</div>
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Anyway. We're still here! </div>
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In April, we flew to California to pick up an '09 Jetta we bought in LA, then drove up to my parents and stayed with them for a little over a week. I can't wait for them to come in a few weeks and see our boy again! Above... we had just given CJ a bath in my mom's enormous sink. Quite the family event (like...literally...my Mom was getting poetic about the bath towel being mine when I was a baby...).<br />
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On the way home, we stopped in Solvang for the night. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision... Clint spoils me, I tell ya. We stayed in a pretty little hotel and ate some German sausage and had a lovely time together, of course.<br />
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It was cold. Here's my Clint's touring the town with me. I couldn't resist a photo. Notice the leg warmers. Oh yeah!<br />
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Adorableness.</div>
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We discovered that CJ is a great trip baby. Thank goodness...</div>
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"Whassup Mom?"</div>
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He loves to chill in the sink. I passed on a strong shower-until-your'e-numb gene to him.</div>
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He doesn't love to chill in his bed. Here he is with his Amish beads after just waking up. (please ignore that they are pink. We are working on his Grandma with this one. She's the culprit.)</div>
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I went on a run after a storm, and Clint took the baby and did a little tour of the countryside and took some beautiful photos. Here is my favorite.</div>
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Driving up Hwy 1...there was road construction and a thirty minute stop. Us and the rest of the foreigners took advantage of the scenery and got out for a few photos. I miss my ocean!</div>
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Anyway... that was a pretty boring post. I'm not in the writing mood. But I will be. Hold your breath. : All these photos are a couple of months old, so my little boy has developed quite a bit more, which I will be showcasing very soon. Till next time. </div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-59061881940688762542012-02-22T17:41:00.003-08:002012-02-22T18:31:51.497-08:00Our Baby Bear<div style="text-align: left;">Long has it been since I have bequeathed my thoughts onto the blog.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I like that word, bequeathed. I doubt I used it right, but it has a certain romantic ring to it that gives me a thrill. Just had to use it.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Anyway. It's been awhile. From being almost three weeks past my due date and having a newborn and not being around internet too terribly much, and plain old not feeling like posting... I've avoided the blog. But here I am. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I won't go into detail about the labor, so as to avoid terrifying the babyless gals and collecting sympathy from the mothers (actually, I welcome sympathy). But I'll say this: I DID NOT LIKE IT. End of story. It was worse than I am capable of imagining. I will say no more. Although I'm dying to freak you all out with the wicked details.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But, a baby came out in the end, and I'll tell you about that. Or I'll just let the pictures speak for you. I don't have any from the last two weeks, due to us taking pictures with our cell phones. He is four weeks today. So, once I get some more onto the actual camera, I'll post. These are only from his first day. He's developed into an even cuter, wide eyed, very fat little boy. I'm sure you've seen his wondrous glories on Facebook.</div><div style="text-align: left;">We named him Clinton Joseph Stoll, after his Daddy. We call him CJ. He was eight pounds and 21 1/2 inches long, and came out looking around, serious, and very mellow. We are in love. He was born at 7:09 am, not long after dawn. The relief and miracle of his birth was incredible. I don't know how to elaborate without getting extremely gushy, flowery, and over the top Shakesperean. So... it was amazing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><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/AVvXsEgXcTv6g1AmaBua2mhMhlOQmuYyiWCd1iqCldw-pSEGC8J8R1GNK1x_RbKwAEnkJaTWB5JeYcMmue9UArgm5FHMnirEGZo0_tVu_M_l5a6q1XpnpWm1q68WQl-icDiKYHLeX6oR12Vke5Q/s400/DSC03325.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712146958655903234" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here he is, freshly out, still with a cone head and looking like a little old man.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOrt0xYiziWjVWlOhxq_ZZI4mwI5WacRvO4KjRC_U3_JCei9wW9g3EOtQt_LzHB4cKzkWH0houU_viJYlPQsBSng-ytyyZgvJzs3OUQCBoYAYgsakHpeSZL2qi03O5NBGOWHEQBkmoUU/s1600/DSC03316_2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEiBOrt0xYiziWjVWlOhxq_ZZI4mwI5WacRvO4KjRC_U3_JCei9wW9g3EOtQt_LzHB4cKzkWH0houU_viJYlPQsBSng-ytyyZgvJzs3OUQCBoYAYgsakHpeSZL2qi03O5NBGOWHEQBkmoUU/s400/DSC03316_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712146955829752002" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">About eight minutes after his arrival. Still in total shock. I know I'm going to regret putting this photo up as soon as I hit the publish button. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxuwtK5P6HlPoJAjWYEpdz6YoOPG2VT3ETlpubjbArIx7pxutp341XGtwACqJ8zrUx3GB464SdldntVx1Lkd37igD0wUn3bSdY3Rws4lBbk7xPVl8314DNV50qpgxzVdKQ1nn1Le6ziY/s1600/DSC03318.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxuwtK5P6HlPoJAjWYEpdz6YoOPG2VT3ETlpubjbArIx7pxutp341XGtwACqJ8zrUx3GB464SdldntVx1Lkd37igD0wUn3bSdY3Rws4lBbk7xPVl8314DNV50qpgxzVdKQ1nn1Le6ziY/s400/DSC03318.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712146952068416130" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">First, Clint was born to be a husband. And then he was born to be a father. And in between he was born to be a host of other magnificent things. He was a perfect doula. I probably would have died if he wasn't there to comfort me. End of story.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3B5VZhRvo8O0UmEUV9gtyvyhdgF78sfSU4UN_MOrDgkakKnfarPf1Y4Oe3pVtxANI8EeqG22dNO0pkRLcHDCLTh8BskdBEQ_emrICoYqqG-2iKb38hejq8EWErKwGXYX2oKgDmqby3E/s1600/DSC03319.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3B5VZhRvo8O0UmEUV9gtyvyhdgF78sfSU4UN_MOrDgkakKnfarPf1Y4Oe3pVtxANI8EeqG22dNO0pkRLcHDCLTh8BskdBEQ_emrICoYqqG-2iKb38hejq8EWErKwGXYX2oKgDmqby3E/s400/DSC03319.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712146923459758498" /></a><br /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHb6QDOvgPFha-pFjQiJALq-wXRKngpgYB7eKnRVzUGb1jgaark2hk_6BF2KIVF7PwY-GxrQ5_TM-jHHrTYJXhajILBNQQIEKQAYbjLa1mCVbjMOBXduSAzdmLD9rCY7o4dX8Sx_yY4o/s1600/DSC03323.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgiHb6QDOvgPFha-pFjQiJALq-wXRKngpgYB7eKnRVzUGb1jgaark2hk_6BF2KIVF7PwY-GxrQ5_TM-jHHrTYJXhajILBNQQIEKQAYbjLa1mCVbjMOBXduSAzdmLD9rCY7o4dX8Sx_yY4o/s400/DSC03323.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712146918618239586" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">He loved this little stork weighing device as soon as they put him in it. This is Mary, Clint's paternal grandmother, who was my midwife.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipMN_zGMf0xC2KM52GYPLjfgfAzbiQRF9HXCkLE1m9i1EA99RzKO2PTTY9c0DO-gQLZi1XILT5UzEq0Sz3x97CU27IqBRiImwfdWOCE0-u6hkGEhuCJLBxSQ_xeqBYhD7HE48dHe2sg-U/s1600/DSC03356.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEipMN_zGMf0xC2KM52GYPLjfgfAzbiQRF9HXCkLE1m9i1EA99RzKO2PTTY9c0DO-gQLZi1XILT5UzEq0Sz3x97CU27IqBRiImwfdWOCE0-u6hkGEhuCJLBxSQ_xeqBYhD7HE48dHe2sg-U/s400/DSC03356.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712144784509747826" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">His first night with us.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ6KZrIqw2zHOB8Ewa9JQ2I35KoWKZLg6TKyrkLbSa08xUInPAge2Xl_zBqIgZ1kr4psx_B8fS2TpAww1ypdIKivLN4fVyFpHb35jCU9H9wwUaxIYzMLkmbna60zEktm0mMFBLtX_hr8U/s1600/DSC03357.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgZ6KZrIqw2zHOB8Ewa9JQ2I35KoWKZLg6TKyrkLbSa08xUInPAge2Xl_zBqIgZ1kr4psx_B8fS2TpAww1ypdIKivLN4fVyFpHb35jCU9H9wwUaxIYzMLkmbna60zEktm0mMFBLtX_hr8U/s400/DSC03357.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712144778621733122" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The next morning. There's nothing like seeing the man I adore with our son. Having a baby is seriously romantic. Hopefully our children will end up having a thick, wavy mop of hair like my man, as you can see he's been blessed with. Unlike me.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_B8GtDcwbG9Wjnxh6rFPZvfd8xwUQ4epPMKw51HAbOxbYphZWY5TVGU5sXIaLP1nbZE63t5HTGFFe40kEZteJ71rP-e5BLaJDNbIjzuIJ26p5GuEt3pgZhL2xbBx59uQKmBc46OGqkE/s1600/DSC03359.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgx_B8GtDcwbG9Wjnxh6rFPZvfd8xwUQ4epPMKw51HAbOxbYphZWY5TVGU5sXIaLP1nbZE63t5HTGFFe40kEZteJ71rP-e5BLaJDNbIjzuIJ26p5GuEt3pgZhL2xbBx59uQKmBc46OGqkE/s400/DSC03359.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712144769234500146" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrvGNQinayM-RUX9ynh_2gBEbXN06MQAeO58wBgZRccE67jQWSkK_F-9fvb3lkOCD4rsLhdDu3qnkdO7SalTl2_xIJ645pP1pC0v2OpdiIsb_0oQdQJs_EYqI7GD6wDEs6_gfbsJ3krfY/s1600/DSC03360.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhrvGNQinayM-RUX9ynh_2gBEbXN06MQAeO58wBgZRccE67jQWSkK_F-9fvb3lkOCD4rsLhdDu3qnkdO7SalTl2_xIJ645pP1pC0v2OpdiIsb_0oQdQJs_EYqI7GD6wDEs6_gfbsJ3krfY/s400/DSC03360.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712144767496378610" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Promises of a chubby future and maybe a little football...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD65r6limoriohafOUsh53WWeSHuCiFSbIwab3PTWw4xaQJXjSUW6DIOOoaEMaiRobU6HTa745D8XG6phjyBTSX3cmTreGlkJO8_HlRnLUnf8NlFvpLbnlO8o0bzIWBnvtYLP0s0W7tXI/s1600/DSC03362.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEiD65r6limoriohafOUsh53WWeSHuCiFSbIwab3PTWw4xaQJXjSUW6DIOOoaEMaiRobU6HTa745D8XG6phjyBTSX3cmTreGlkJO8_HlRnLUnf8NlFvpLbnlO8o0bzIWBnvtYLP0s0W7tXI/s400/DSC03362.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712144761341202018" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Now you can all comment and tell me how beautiful my boy is. ;) I'll put some up of his more developed self soon.</div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-61714637286857878232011-11-14T19:08:00.001-08:002011-11-14T19:08:55.609-08:00Come oh Baby, come.<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I have been officially banned from playing volleyball.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It was my Man who banned me. After weeks of off and on saying he wasn’t so sure about me diving all over the sand as pregnant as I am, he finally pulled the trigger. Dropped the guillotine. Ruined my life! (just kidding)</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I tried the remember-not-to-dive method. Didn’t word. Every time I’d run and jump and land on my hip, I would think, “Oh yeah... I wasn’t supposed to do that...”, and do it again about four minutes later. We have a two-month long rec league going, and I got some hard stares and an older woman (on the other team) nicely reprimanding me with a worried look on her face that I have two people to think about now, after I slid across the floor for a ball or two (and saved them!!). </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">One game on the sand, I remembered not to dive/fall/jump/roll each time there came a reason to. Of course, this messed up my playing entirely, as I couldn’t save nearly anything from losing us a point. Not fun.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Although I’m sad that he banned me from the only sport I play, I am flattered that he’s worried. Makes me feel like his girl. He doesn’t worry about much.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">At eight months, the time is near. I have constant contractions/Braxton Hicks 24/7 (and right now...), the baby is so strong it can kick and literally pick up the computer if it’s resting on my belly. My little mini athlete is trying to bust out of it’s confines. I am greatly looking forward to my baby. I am also greatly looking forward to running fast and light as a feather, and playing volleyball again. And if I work on my shooting, I’ll be joining my man on the basketball court.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Don’t be surprised if I post a picture of our baby here soon. My instincts tell me that it is coming... quickly.</span></p>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-84045629342309337492011-11-11T07:19:00.000-08:002011-11-11T07:36:20.526-08:00<div style="text-align: center;">You may be wondering if our lives evolve around volleyball and volleyball tournaments. Really, they don't.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I just happened to marry a guy who is extremely skilled in the area. And when that guy and I were falling in love, it was mainly on the local sand volleyball court. And that guy's parents took me under their wing and taught me how to play. </div><div style="text-align: center;">With that said... last Saturday Clint played in another tournament. It's always entertaining to watch and inspires me to try harder when I'm playing to do the things I know I can do, but just aren't getting done. Like setting well consistently. My nemesis. </div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA7avA8iRz_ivfyVG6h63advpYw9mSSGWWRcz-VNXYvd5HEQLkd_xRXX_rcb2KMC5r8hLmD8d0WGDvBdp2_TVnjPCdVfk-n8Yrbc8nLz2vAkZK77emzFKEqcJGaLV5CAfLSEHHATGZ884/s400/DSC03145.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673759228086868466" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75HyZ7p2Vzs611aAeq0I7jhOn6myEX7FhJJNwvakcVxXfSJDQfQjs3GwCaX4WHNDxPNeGgno4oSfTzj5vB4ozzc9OF9aYthzbZUsKhIM6oEm1gd7I-6wZtQ2M4Zw9qRzzzUkZylFdSS0/s1600/DSC03142.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEj75HyZ7p2Vzs611aAeq0I7jhOn6myEX7FhJJNwvakcVxXfSJDQfQjs3GwCaX4WHNDxPNeGgno4oSfTzj5vB4ozzc9OF9aYthzbZUsKhIM6oEm1gd7I-6wZtQ2M4Zw9qRzzzUkZylFdSS0/s400/DSC03142.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673759224730158082" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Walking back onto the court...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08ruARa5QjbU7K7_RHqCN1oWxNzIQuFIptmgHq4gp7oIVvrb3UbA4EqO6aZVBcx1a4Edfk6RpL6HpOSRolCKGQNuyvDxY42lQRTqF8jwpxScM8hYe8AhxoTQB90GM1OBaMTqEQKWDxuQ/s1600/DSC03141.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08ruARa5QjbU7K7_RHqCN1oWxNzIQuFIptmgHq4gp7oIVvrb3UbA4EqO6aZVBcx1a4Edfk6RpL6HpOSRolCKGQNuyvDxY42lQRTqF8jwpxScM8hYe8AhxoTQB90GM1OBaMTqEQKWDxuQ/s400/DSC03141.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673758930850916722" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I always get a thrill out of seeing Clint with his hat on backwards. It reminds me of all the times he'd come driving up on his four-wheeler in the summertime to the court with it on like that. He always looked so cute... and I still have a weakness for it. Even after my long time of being married. (*wink*)</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDSIbrdnx98iXz_LueeOhYlmNvyy8CqNfCds2KQhM9JAIgBkXP4axi440KAYSzoKWdtxIJT0nafoASaMVqoGp6Wpe7u3g51QIJmcRjni3AivTKSEvFZRd5goGSe2I5RfKIWJVNTGgNqA/s1600/DSC03139.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjjDSIbrdnx98iXz_LueeOhYlmNvyy8CqNfCds2KQhM9JAIgBkXP4axi440KAYSzoKWdtxIJT0nafoASaMVqoGp6Wpe7u3g51QIJmcRjni3AivTKSEvFZRd5goGSe2I5RfKIWJVNTGgNqA/s400/DSC03139.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673758921240735314" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">About to serve... I saw that guy eating in the background and deciding to break the no-food-in-the-gym rule myself...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohZDG00YtJX2GT7CvJJqamveUbx2HLvn6QxNrKHlDv6vzz-REJxATdjWC1hyNnSEvpRlHKxKVzI6D1sjWmrT521MKRwS-RQtTrkICsKuASbSunTf0KHn3hXIREFEaIDct7t5C4SI501A/s1600/DSC03132.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEiohZDG00YtJX2GT7CvJJqamveUbx2HLvn6QxNrKHlDv6vzz-REJxATdjWC1hyNnSEvpRlHKxKVzI6D1sjWmrT521MKRwS-RQtTrkICsKuASbSunTf0KHn3hXIREFEaIDct7t5C4SI501A/s400/DSC03132.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673758918581198514" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZE-CR-ISR6XQNjwDfolUZ03Fn0onQhcwBXCcK9tN1LlDTBDJ-Knw8hiDR0ugrSup8WOE-s6iT4inH-MiwXZpLTj1fz4ghqqjmFMvuxsjkcxOxXvAH8PReUuz94EUqf1NNtM16vrjq20/s1600/DSC03129.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEheZE-CR-ISR6XQNjwDfolUZ03Fn0onQhcwBXCcK9tN1LlDTBDJ-Knw8hiDR0ugrSup8WOE-s6iT4inH-MiwXZpLTj1fz4ghqqjmFMvuxsjkcxOxXvAH8PReUuz94EUqf1NNtM16vrjq20/s400/DSC03129.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673758909100035730" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">High-fiving after a game</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu42LP9OtSJCfB5iV_sEfHTNgoo-KVIcoN8b5EIgcubRcsrYQiv0z8_ZThDE_GyqnERjVtBHX5v8ZoVDd1WWOpq49_S8azySlMWnOQBeQ8rR0f8FI2fKs3fe1wyi15vkxYMNmHkFIKeU0/s1600/DSC01283.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgu42LP9OtSJCfB5iV_sEfHTNgoo-KVIcoN8b5EIgcubRcsrYQiv0z8_ZThDE_GyqnERjVtBHX5v8ZoVDd1WWOpq49_S8azySlMWnOQBeQ8rR0f8FI2fKs3fe1wyi15vkxYMNmHkFIKeU0/s400/DSC01283.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673758897653150146" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">This morning I left the house at 8:20. It was 33 degrees. I just thought I'd let you all know that.</div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-39211372728915622942011-10-21T10:12:00.000-07:002011-10-21T10:24:10.684-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaE3mCxCtSB_HJe0I1MpLY0N2y4j0zWsIdPu7MYXfYbBdC1VyHzAV9WVc-pGBKiX3x7djnkQvIouNS-tDKbiji4qUk4YST7h5HPHf0K5JVn5KOjZG-qp-zzMmCFZLs5crhYr_0Y-rAAI/s1600/DSC02381.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgEaE3mCxCtSB_HJe0I1MpLY0N2y4j0zWsIdPu7MYXfYbBdC1VyHzAV9WVc-pGBKiX3x7djnkQvIouNS-tDKbiji4qUk4YST7h5HPHf0K5JVn5KOjZG-qp-zzMmCFZLs5crhYr_0Y-rAAI/s400/DSC02381.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665995035264868338" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">So long go the steamy days of summer... of the cool greenish blue waters of the creek, little puppies learning to swim, spear fishing, laying out on the hot rocks to drink in the sun on your skin, rushing to the creek as soon as your man gets home from work. In it's stead are crisp mornings listening to the dew fall onto the roof, the glorious colors of the changing leaves, freezing puppies who scratch the door at night, hot soup, cravings for pumpkin, and tromping around the tall grass totally unconcerned about snakes. (this is a big one for me)</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love fall. But as I look at the creek and remember what it was long not many weeks ago to feel the shock of the cool water after suffering the humidity of the day, I miss it. Very much. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm a summer girl. Sun and sand. Born and raised never too far away from the Pacific coastline. At times I miss my homeland, mainly just the ocean. And I am still in shock that I'm married.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am so, so, so, so, so, so....</div><div style="text-align: center;">HAPPY.</div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-26078570248698397112011-10-09T12:33:00.000-07:002011-10-09T12:38:37.719-07:00Heat, Cold, and the Benefits of a Fast Metabolism<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">My baby brother used to try to weezle his way into not sleeping alone by telling his (much) older sisters that he could keep us warm.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“Hannie, I’m a hotbox. If you let me sleep with you I will keep you warm”. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Truth be told... he was a hotbox. Whenever we found the kindness in our hearts to let him spend the night in our beds (aka whenever he looked cute enough), it was time to crank up the fans, open the windows, and enjoy the night chill on our faces because of our three foot personal heater lodged up against us, keeping us plenty warm. He was also a sprawler.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">That being said...</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">My husband is a Hotbox.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In more ways than one.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But I won’t bore you with my attraction levels for him. I’m sure you all have your own Hotbox to daydream about.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I have issues with staying warm once I get warm. My feet are generally in a constant icicle state and my finger tips are often tipped with a Narnian freeze. It seems that in the morning, after waving goodbye to my Beloved as he drives away to work, I am immediately cold.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Immediately.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I go up into the house, and everything I do is suddenly cold. I don hat, long sleeved shirt, puffy vest, sweats, so</span> cks, bar all the windows... and I am still cold. I’ve even snuggled with my flea-bitten black puppy for warmth.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">A hot drink does nothing but keep my lips warm. Moving around and cleaning does nothing but get the house clean. Taking a hot shower only emphasizes that I was once extremely cold, and that I will be extremely cold again once Iget out. I simply cannot get warm.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I stop. I pause. I wonder.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I look at the pattern. Husband home = warmth. Husband gone = cold. I think I’m onto something here.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We are never far from each other when he is home. The farthest we are away is when I am washing the dinner dishes and he is relaxing on the couch reading the paper. I finish the dishes and plop down next to him and try to find something interesting in the paper to read. I generally revert to talking his ear off and scratching his head. During this time, I am warm. Do you know why I am warm?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Because my husband is a Hotbox. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We both like to be surrounded by cold when we are sleeping. We leave the window open to let the Tennessee autumn air come through, turn on the ceiling fan, and crank up the plug-in fan all at the same time. I love the breeze. But... In the dead of the night... when I wake up four times because my baby is sitting on top of my bladder or practicing martial arts inside of my gut... part of me is cold.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Not the part facing my husband. That part is burning up with the 100 degree heat of his warm man-skin. But the other part, facing toward the edge of the bed, toward the wall... which is usually my butt. It gets cold. Frigidly cold.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">My nightly ritual involves turning over about a dozen times during the sleeping hours to warm both sides of my body up against my Hotbox, who, while sleeping, defines the term “dead asleep”. My legs and my belly get cold... I simply turn and throw the leg over the human heater and put my face in his shoulder until I’m almost suffocating. My butt gets cold so I turn over and... well you get the point. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px">My Hotbox always feels sorry for me when he discovers how cold I am. He has ideas in his head about how to arrange the furniture in our bedroom so as to maximize warmth for whatever side of me isn’t magnetizing heat from his body. He clucks his tongue like a mother (or should I say daddy?...) hen and says to cuddle up to him as much as I like. It’s nice having sympathy... especially from a six footer with sleepy blue eyes and long, tan arms that can wrap far, far around you even when you’re almost seven months pregnant. I kinda have a weakness for him.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">On his twenty-second birthday, which was the first of October, my Man got up at four something to go hunting for the first time this season. He said he’d be back by eight-thirty... which he was... but I got so cold, I had to revert to jumping around like a maniac to keep warm. It eventually turned into a workout, and I killed two birds with one stone. But boy oh boy... when I heard the obnoxiously loud rumble of his truck coming up the driveway, and saw his tall self all dolled up in camo climb out of the front seat... was I h-a-p-p-y to see him. My lips were no longer purple and my skin took on a normal hue.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Sigh... my Hotbox was home.</span></p>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-77390433191336685012011-10-05T08:30:00.000-07:002011-10-05T08:54:24.308-07:00Colorado Memories<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKN3MKKNm-Dngn6W_q0nCdKhO2MqtqK6CUATfoYDc4FB2NZ-GUZIdKQL9nxo-8wj4NWgIsUG6a_Tv-lhXhycrtW2ODY9ACvzo_IcVlTNS_RMcvHtq3olLKU0q1C-Mw50J6aKeHvsfoXw/s1600/DSC02978.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEiWKN3MKKNm-Dngn6W_q0nCdKhO2MqtqK6CUATfoYDc4FB2NZ-GUZIdKQL9nxo-8wj4NWgIsUG6a_Tv-lhXhycrtW2ODY9ACvzo_IcVlTNS_RMcvHtq3olLKU0q1C-Mw50J6aKeHvsfoXw/s400/DSC02978.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660034313880363698" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Jocelyn took it into her own hands to teach Leif how to ride.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6JWVOLO0fk63jinIIz8sluUrZqiG8-xGNAbJuUa21t3Ijj8U6v9RZzW7aKF71CKAERtSw1qUBswLo6Ywcj9W2lJwbva4mwgmA4jQQhrHp4ma2epSHrzh3g3B-BMBzgGosoR3b5XSH74/s1600/DSC02979.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6JWVOLO0fk63jinIIz8sluUrZqiG8-xGNAbJuUa21t3Ijj8U6v9RZzW7aKF71CKAERtSw1qUBswLo6Ywcj9W2lJwbva4mwgmA4jQQhrHp4ma2epSHrzh3g3B-BMBzgGosoR3b5XSH74/s400/DSC02979.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660033847357797378" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">There was a swift little stream behind the cabins we stayed at in Pitkin</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho0kwz1Nw6KRrMg_qeUCjkb4kehAkU8ZHEI6j_S5HvEeMLuf-1WMvDtwwycxu8-lb67eXa4Zdd-e1azidV_NxHn4EN0CLUqysVmytZTlbaroa5nmlPvvJQwABJX8DQQEKobnNrlHbPISI/s1600/DSC02988.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho0kwz1Nw6KRrMg_qeUCjkb4kehAkU8ZHEI6j_S5HvEeMLuf-1WMvDtwwycxu8-lb67eXa4Zdd-e1azidV_NxHn4EN0CLUqysVmytZTlbaroa5nmlPvvJQwABJX8DQQEKobnNrlHbPISI/s400/DSC02988.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660033843465440002" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The kids loved fishing... and actually caught quite a few</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj126Gi7U37npaw5NzzGNHcA5gBdgGfKxgiPi7h03EgGYoEG_IWKEnYyMGjWKEyjVK9UVloiXoiUCa2CalFCk1JEI3lBhPdaCJcIrfjqtdTG64uxXVTMg9ZkkfN_VCyzoRhnXxd6SNxoUA/s1600/DSC03012.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEj126Gi7U37npaw5NzzGNHcA5gBdgGfKxgiPi7h03EgGYoEG_IWKEnYyMGjWKEyjVK9UVloiXoiUCa2CalFCk1JEI3lBhPdaCJcIrfjqtdTG64uxXVTMg9ZkkfN_VCyzoRhnXxd6SNxoUA/s400/DSC03012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660033838288550626" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">So... we four wheeled up miles and miles and climbed the last 800 ft of the highest peak around... it happened to be snowing and frigidly cold, and I was dumb enough to leave my warm coats at home. I had on about five shirts under that sweat jacket. It's nice having a husband that's hot... literally...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlazAe1EYjUyDNJezJ77Ic2q3n7RlKkov4xYEJRdcDYb7COmbUkil_NsEwf7Syi9mejObiQP65rcDTj97rQBMxZyhtRabVNJw9YVZ43_-CoDfFjfWxD-H2J06cdcV2ZnaUQR83zboiIw/s1600/DSC03020.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgHlazAe1EYjUyDNJezJ77Ic2q3n7RlKkov4xYEJRdcDYb7COmbUkil_NsEwf7Syi9mejObiQP65rcDTj97rQBMxZyhtRabVNJw9YVZ43_-CoDfFjfWxD-H2J06cdcV2ZnaUQR83zboiIw/s400/DSC03020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660033834011897042" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My view on the way down... whew!!</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQeadxtJt8bVWjLF8zvoOAt1DU237HlvR-wZ-M_OXZ5-F-wPf650H6H9Q3JczWPsJc-pYG3urXLeH1yA5LGlmesP4ScYqPbcN4eCo0VmYCXlgq0xaav6zD_JX8CHvdwMfAzQtRF6PFg-c/s1600/DSC03023.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgQeadxtJt8bVWjLF8zvoOAt1DU237HlvR-wZ-M_OXZ5-F-wPf650H6H9Q3JczWPsJc-pYG3urXLeH1yA5LGlmesP4ScYqPbcN4eCo0VmYCXlgq0xaav6zD_JX8CHvdwMfAzQtRF6PFg-c/s400/DSC03023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660033830820789410" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Can't forget the tradition now, can we!</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJupD5DoHu0YavngzfWeSWYfkYK2bcEVOv1AcOa5Mln4fgi16pDfqYUtbt1OGzW3BmXM5qATPHwvlfkw0joHOB2xYyJTZpGNPKyToOdzNWcH2gA74g_p5PoU576R0m44tGCm1hnqtb7o/s1600/DSC03029.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEifJupD5DoHu0YavngzfWeSWYfkYK2bcEVOv1AcOa5Mln4fgi16pDfqYUtbt1OGzW3BmXM5qATPHwvlfkw0joHOB2xYyJTZpGNPKyToOdzNWcH2gA74g_p5PoU576R0m44tGCm1hnqtb7o/s400/DSC03029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660031832041703762" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our little Marmot friend. Pure bucket of lard. Seriously, you touch the sides of this thing, and it's pure fat. There's one little back bone, and then all fat. I'm sure it was the queen of all the creatures up there or something... she must have sat around and done absolutely nothing. I have never come across such an obese animal besides my old cat Butter who was arthritic and about a foot wide and died from accidentally rolling into our neighbor's pool. PS. I carried this thing wrapped in a little tarp miles down the mountain on the back of a four wheeler, holding onto my hunter guy with one arm, with the rifle that was slung on his back jamming into my ribs. I was very proud of myself.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWohgv_WoVz6cqdnLABty40osYr3sgu7tAzcJJfQjSVyr9cG6pj6UnsbbvpJJVEdCVawzIkgFkFAnOWDQC03azcy8-Gy_SlBUIASG4dth6mLZbx2NwVdPVMM-DicAcTULgH-68itKfSew/s1600/DSC03030.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhWohgv_WoVz6cqdnLABty40osYr3sgu7tAzcJJfQjSVyr9cG6pj6UnsbbvpJJVEdCVawzIkgFkFAnOWDQC03azcy8-Gy_SlBUIASG4dth6mLZbx2NwVdPVMM-DicAcTULgH-68itKfSew/s400/DSC03030.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660031829066966866" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My man with his prize. He's actually smiling in a picture!!</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiamUY-3LxO-kA2ebcabzTbH3So4b-WyMxs7I5rK0ndtOQONmwaSlBI73VYptg06oYz1uuya0Z_7AtX-mVXBBqidqdtJl92SHtZIS0grHr0GzTetGmLBVOMaXOtWTlCjI5elMIOLhpSw7k/s1600/DSC03062.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiamUY-3LxO-kA2ebcabzTbH3So4b-WyMxs7I5rK0ndtOQONmwaSlBI73VYptg06oYz1uuya0Z_7AtX-mVXBBqidqdtJl92SHtZIS0grHr0GzTetGmLBVOMaXOtWTlCjI5elMIOLhpSw7k/s400/DSC03062.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660031821486858706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Back at home... life becomes normal again. Here Clint is showing off his shooting skills...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVDxXnMBMOWZ87npt3k6DcsLQ4qa6rr0QnnhNURreH0Q7nwkBz1JMJeIuGURjStRHxtiQw5XJedT-e3npDvxc1KDb1iqeWnxfFtKgzmRPlXipgv8w3CX-mn5xgaBAP6LOCoyX8XZIek0s/s1600/DSC03063.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVDxXnMBMOWZ87npt3k6DcsLQ4qa6rr0QnnhNURreH0Q7nwkBz1JMJeIuGURjStRHxtiQw5XJedT-e3npDvxc1KDb1iqeWnxfFtKgzmRPlXipgv8w3CX-mn5xgaBAP6LOCoyX8XZIek0s/s400/DSC03063.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660031825192361826" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Handsomeness in a redneck cutoff shirt. MMM.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOjrI3QBA5jRe_bdW28-FHUCFaE4G8kjn9isfOeGQLqxIugOTVLw48CKHnpbaTNBx2t-OgRn2wwQ1QnY-2LRXI34DK9eOfAcfTtr1rH8hmjCVnN_iWrdvnkEJybSR4MDOqIo9hqbYl1I/s1600/DSC03075.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEiAOjrI3QBA5jRe_bdW28-FHUCFaE4G8kjn9isfOeGQLqxIugOTVLw48CKHnpbaTNBx2t-OgRn2wwQ1QnY-2LRXI34DK9eOfAcfTtr1rH8hmjCVnN_iWrdvnkEJybSR4MDOqIo9hqbYl1I/s400/DSC03075.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660031818521923810" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">The Stoll's play in a volleyball rec league every year. This time, as Renee has up and married and moved off to NC, Liz, Shanna, and myself are attempting to replace her. Here Tim, Rachel, Liz, and Clint are playing. I was off on the sidelines wishing I would have joined them. I probably will next week.</div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-57201914018106309442011-09-26T12:25:00.000-07:002011-09-26T12:41:15.951-07:00The CreatureThere is a creature living inside of me.<div>A real, live, squiggling, squirming creature.</div><div>The creature doesn't like to be poked and prodded by auntie-midwives... it responds by poking and prodding back.</div><div>The creature doesn't like it when it's tabernacle, me, lays on it's stomach... it then designs to kick it's protest in the middle of the night until it's tabernacle moves.</div><div>Supposedly the creature is the size of a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ruttabega</span>, however big that is... and it doesn't like grilled cheese. In fact when it comes in contact with grilled cheese it pushes it back to where it came from with all it's little might. And believe me, it's strong.</div><div>The creature has great control over it's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">environment</span>. It tells my body when to change, how to change, and <i>where </i>to change. It also likes to shove it's little creature butt up against my right side, which is kinda cute.</div><div>The creature recognizes the other half of it's maker. When there's any casual pressure from the Man, the creature says, "Hey I know this dude!", and then <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">proceeds</span> to kick the Man... whether that be in the back, hand, arm, elbow... </div><div>The creature has a room of it's own, and many other things of it's own. It also consumes much of it's mother thoughts and dreams and ignites many discussions over what it will be called. The creature has a strong daddy to look forward to who will raise it with a firm hand (and a weakness for batting eyelashes), a strong spirit, and the deepest concern for it's little soul. It's mother will raise it with a weaker hand with every intention of being stronger, a weakness for it's Daddy, a feisty spirit that gets strengthened with it's daddy's help, and of course, deep concern for it's little soul. I am sure it will also be passed around and fought over by miniature aunts and uncles and two extremely doting grandmothers and two proud grandfathers who want it to be a boy.</div><div>The creature will also have a creature cousin who will be born a month after it, and yet another creature cousin who will be born five months after it.</div><div>The creature is coming. And behold, very soon.</div><div>I love my little creature.</div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-55164511706718455232011-09-21T13:05:00.000-07:002011-09-21T13:27:59.115-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoxikgWlP4F5wLTeJ7nEPmXfErZke-6-T0O9ha96bq5CvNcMcbJx_BmeqaGH6fX2S-qLJ_U643FcZAtA05uP0ury2kxReT-WsT0KZc5SYLakOpoeVfQ6ATaLQ0nVIH6eEFMbou1wgdpI/s1600/1207400235_astny-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhOoxikgWlP4F5wLTeJ7nEPmXfErZke-6-T0O9ha96bq5CvNcMcbJx_BmeqaGH6fX2S-qLJ_U643FcZAtA05uP0ury2kxReT-WsT0KZc5SYLakOpoeVfQ6ATaLQ0nVIH6eEFMbou1wgdpI/s400/1207400235_astny-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654906786669717858" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I miss my man... he's been working 12 hour days and I've been lonely without him... and there's no replacement for him. We wake up in the early mornings when it's still dark to the sound of his extremely annoying phone alarm... I sleepily make breakfast while he gets dressed and ready to go. Then we go downstairs, he gets in the car or the truck, we kiss and hug for awhile... and then he leaves while I restrain the puppy. And it makes me sad.</div><div style="text-align: center;">He's been coming home consistently at six or seven in the evening... he's been working with Justin who likes long hours from some strange reason. And thus my man is stolen from me all day long. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But we make up for it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Poor guy... he comes home all tired and dirty and never complains. Of course I coo and fuss over him and he doesn't resist...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sigh... builder guys...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-88411120411798860822011-09-18T10:27:00.000-07:002011-09-18T11:08:06.406-07:00The Beginning of the K-I-S-S-I-N-G..... where it all started...... February 19th, 2011<div style="text-align: center;">The beginning will start at the end.</div><div style="text-align: center;">As posting 200 pictures with blogger is slightly tedious and tiring, I'll do it in sections. My sweet friend Beth Nell asked to see our wedding, and it dawned on me... I've never posted it. So here goes! Enjoy these!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Starting after the wedding...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoScd8diOKsqELRxXGrWKnIferPV3zB6myHicegMEFt-NpjDlJEDflg3mSVNhyphenhyphenbaZOlhb82xaadXplzmAlI9G265Jjn6mvHghSLwVSTHQFkkJkDiWuifjzV3lH8sjLoww8lOCVjMKDHB4/s1600/1207401544_NwSbE-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoScd8diOKsqELRxXGrWKnIferPV3zB6myHicegMEFt-NpjDlJEDflg3mSVNhyphenhyphenbaZOlhb82xaadXplzmAlI9G265Jjn6mvHghSLwVSTHQFkkJkDiWuifjzV3lH8sjLoww8lOCVjMKDHB4/s400/1207401544_NwSbE-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653758505652475970" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Diversity of height.... weight...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiktLwGMuNxPKdX7QMXVOrpL7v6u3QSya38ZAoZvVgfiUWBAoQGJVf7sehtjMGMwIghsNq1POS_RWXC4Zs7QQgEFDt4vrl6QWA1h7P74dDMjrkVCGAzrpbAUSyUsZhGAavpoHdmhEPO0I8/s1600/1207403563_fwaDD-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEiktLwGMuNxPKdX7QMXVOrpL7v6u3QSya38ZAoZvVgfiUWBAoQGJVf7sehtjMGMwIghsNq1POS_RWXC4Zs7QQgEFDt4vrl6QWA1h7P74dDMjrkVCGAzrpbAUSyUsZhGAavpoHdmhEPO0I8/s400/1207403563_fwaDD-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653758505778236434" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">"Ew they're kissing...."</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_-hDKWWqcmYYRKYNIemB9W92RVMdIEbiHkVcqGcGU9_dEKuPIeyQY2fypncPIgCRe49mvZwOfPAfx7TUzQO8ipLGsnc5cWzjzXfsBHDBhWGy3_X-BmJfwZfVf9RY6W9e6tpl7QHppaE/s1600/1207403788_bopKT-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_-hDKWWqcmYYRKYNIemB9W92RVMdIEbiHkVcqGcGU9_dEKuPIeyQY2fypncPIgCRe49mvZwOfPAfx7TUzQO8ipLGsnc5cWzjzXfsBHDBhWGy3_X-BmJfwZfVf9RY6W9e6tpl7QHppaE/s400/1207403788_bopKT-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653758497664315250" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">All three families. Boys in pink shirts are Millers and everyone else standing behind Justin and Amber. The other side is Stoll's... and you know my family.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDGSvYJj5-OJFxDF6Gf6JMOzPVHTtuWsPNcN-kSEjSi7XKlSvWjuMy-KQp57LbGw5RZ_Yqxtx3veH-6KLYsewSq3zr3dGQSSuPu8mWrMsz3Tj3ipRrxF5Sy-RzbqaYju2kyv0lIgAtmRo/s1600/1207404132_BqomC-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhDGSvYJj5-OJFxDF6Gf6JMOzPVHTtuWsPNcN-kSEjSi7XKlSvWjuMy-KQp57LbGw5RZ_Yqxtx3veH-6KLYsewSq3zr3dGQSSuPu8mWrMsz3Tj3ipRrxF5Sy-RzbqaYju2kyv0lIgAtmRo/s400/1207404132_BqomC-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653757451376147186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Lily's cheeks are beginning to sag from all the smiling muscles she's been flexing all day.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg4DEb7Eaf0_fELMbrQxVVGtx5Ai7hvx7k0IcYWNCWc6oYHRavoTGIjrpJbjrtuOv39btEiPgbPqiP5U7HkzG5wUun0aqHKsuLgGSVLFmOcwS223cUuMg3mBjr9H9o3wyiDtwOdjCcv5Y/s1600/1207407206_PsMk2-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg4DEb7Eaf0_fELMbrQxVVGtx5Ai7hvx7k0IcYWNCWc6oYHRavoTGIjrpJbjrtuOv39btEiPgbPqiP5U7HkzG5wUun0aqHKsuLgGSVLFmOcwS223cUuMg3mBjr9H9o3wyiDtwOdjCcv5Y/s400/1207407206_PsMk2-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653757437631846946" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My Mom looked so beautiful that day!</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivd4Ra9tnaSD0mAxVVwKMdjtrOsu9Rv-hJX7I4KBuRtk3MH0UEhRR9Aeafzuc3XwUap1TVH_msdfwV6LAP_0onhUkqi-_SJk5i-yGGV7316qG9jLl8tnABj-kvZYhgTSn2zt7pF2HNSUY/s1600/1207408501_wiNWR-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivd4Ra9tnaSD0mAxVVwKMdjtrOsu9Rv-hJX7I4KBuRtk3MH0UEhRR9Aeafzuc3XwUap1TVH_msdfwV6LAP_0onhUkqi-_SJk5i-yGGV7316qG9jLl8tnABj-kvZYhgTSn2zt7pF2HNSUY/s400/1207408501_wiNWR-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653757425660107810" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">.... le Stoll's, including Caleb, with his future Mrs. Caleb who was then a Stoll...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRabr4YagyB8VNscQ6p3C5oUuWuW7nttarZ1FQ5Pe6faCfSVNFnKLRI71WKKNlzBmVnxpBDhtSTjaLZTT1WTIZjj_n46KKZmT9b55nacZBJyUAIJXUQAIytwkfjJj1o6HHswNE4Dtz1w/s1600/1207410202_znF5M-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRabr4YagyB8VNscQ6p3C5oUuWuW7nttarZ1FQ5Pe6faCfSVNFnKLRI71WKKNlzBmVnxpBDhtSTjaLZTT1WTIZjj_n46KKZmT9b55nacZBJyUAIJXUQAIytwkfjJj1o6HHswNE4Dtz1w/s400/1207410202_znF5M-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653757422970892722" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe9y-tkF1nn3fr8c725gKstNbRcdcJw1KBK198kYCbA79vhiNqpwav0j0IfehOk4xcHBYZV6oDFNqL1lNLxZsKq-PaM0I11fkOkYJM1TIpmF9DyUYk7hvpsATovtOvGm8Ct7hLdKaCgH0/s1600/1207410377_MDoN7-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe9y-tkF1nn3fr8c725gKstNbRcdcJw1KBK198kYCbA79vhiNqpwav0j0IfehOk4xcHBYZV6oDFNqL1lNLxZsKq-PaM0I11fkOkYJM1TIpmF9DyUYk7hvpsATovtOvGm8Ct7hLdKaCgH0/s400/1207410377_MDoN7-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653757414897151506" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5VUo4COQgCEqKwFg4VWUyyYC7b1OIH-l65iNHZkHBAXHHZuTmuFjq-uzfIvHNxgmCQZfPJZqc5GbIEk-z8e7cV1bWNwKIHzZvhWRUnbu_zXC-6JuJtFY8_hZJnrfyboibvzLgUgPkNUg/s1600/1207421802_iawBr-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5VUo4COQgCEqKwFg4VWUyyYC7b1OIH-l65iNHZkHBAXHHZuTmuFjq-uzfIvHNxgmCQZfPJZqc5GbIEk-z8e7cV1bWNwKIHzZvhWRUnbu_zXC-6JuJtFY8_hZJnrfyboibvzLgUgPkNUg/s400/1207421802_iawBr-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653756758775913074" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Larry, Mo and Curly.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlYu5oPzRZ6TikHFlkGu_RZ232r2Sj31hlKvsTY022Sauu_wKPqx5oCD5yySz6vOjVseSjzwIcteFci0PhK8AgduHjr1Mr_TlNrmsXv4uuzGXZTJb9_1H0BXh9V2hujGdEnEhA7p0_Ds/s1600/1207423371_XyzLb-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlYu5oPzRZ6TikHFlkGu_RZ232r2Sj31hlKvsTY022Sauu_wKPqx5oCD5yySz6vOjVseSjzwIcteFci0PhK8AgduHjr1Mr_TlNrmsXv4uuzGXZTJb9_1H0BXh9V2hujGdEnEhA7p0_Ds/s400/1207423371_XyzLb-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653756760517447458" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Signing our own guest book for who's knows why.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuDTh29AtwCVndHwAsPfC6sBrH-InbQo1WVI0GPHWSb7VEYm9DOF6n7qJdkVCevkuR82EHsXcsHzTX_653qf5EWsPz0i2_vUt59WFqSKd5iks2axWWDBZkyxRgaayx1ZCWfO3JRDg4eMI/s1600/1207424398_wZs7G-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEiuDTh29AtwCVndHwAsPfC6sBrH-InbQo1WVI0GPHWSb7VEYm9DOF6n7qJdkVCevkuR82EHsXcsHzTX_653qf5EWsPz0i2_vUt59WFqSKd5iks2axWWDBZkyxRgaayx1ZCWfO3JRDg4eMI/s400/1207424398_wZs7G-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653756755623654274" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGDCYBXEyt83N8NdgCLXwcrFPDR7WmBWre2JJSYx7ULugN63Nk_ssc7kxsNe2ZEzMhCIVPRwva80NL0RZr6GXGIlAlrdDUnHdyCo8D209yB2jB78v9Xm305W2ddyXPAAU5hRAkt5dbUc/s1600/1207425291_otWza-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGDCYBXEyt83N8NdgCLXwcrFPDR7WmBWre2JJSYx7ULugN63Nk_ssc7kxsNe2ZEzMhCIVPRwva80NL0RZr6GXGIlAlrdDUnHdyCo8D209yB2jB78v9Xm305W2ddyXPAAU5hRAkt5dbUc/s400/1207425291_otWza-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653756755316411922" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Ruth wrote all the signs in her gorgeous hand writing.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLnwWB8seIvZsnOpfbFSjp-4rwqp4XuFsTxXHPNJtwpvlGGgsAGO4cV10TDkNXj0dmBJ9flEKMLegol2J91nPrQbNdGVs1-M4rg0Y0sxmmvqpZZv45s6EJZgMLzhDWCToZ7J-znnm9Bw/s1600/1207429643_XyQ8J-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLnwWB8seIvZsnOpfbFSjp-4rwqp4XuFsTxXHPNJtwpvlGGgsAGO4cV10TDkNXj0dmBJ9flEKMLegol2J91nPrQbNdGVs1-M4rg0Y0sxmmvqpZZv45s6EJZgMLzhDWCToZ7J-znnm9Bw/s400/1207429643_XyQ8J-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653756750903121810" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVc2avbkkOF43T4epBOGDxBNY0APMWKjqH3z0FBkFMggxIobcdqUs4fUdaZSZoQlm9Szf5iw_X4IE6IZWxwi6JIOOGBbYzM_HajxKNbzzqb_Qu806jhFpTbp2TGbE3N-yp19LmHjGacp8/s1600/1207426859_T39yL-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVc2avbkkOF43T4epBOGDxBNY0APMWKjqH3z0FBkFMggxIobcdqUs4fUdaZSZoQlm9Szf5iw_X4IE6IZWxwi6JIOOGBbYzM_HajxKNbzzqb_Qu806jhFpTbp2TGbE3N-yp19LmHjGacp8/s400/1207426859_T39yL-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653755671111389170" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our beautiful cake... my Mom insisted on getting elaborate wedding cakes which I really couldn't care less about... but when it came down to it, it was the prettiest piece of food and too fun to design. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGjUgMNAmcJe45Ko8E156ILFzQx8zkTGh0wmlF2SwYWJyoXqdUv01FWL-791LwJCOrGUhQ1tPDw2IWvHnltZNiVMSOq96gHvHXmEe3rbN52p2P_eSrZXUBdYC8y7cs1af5AjnufUXyYo/s1600/1207429063_yUFRW-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGjUgMNAmcJe45Ko8E156ILFzQx8zkTGh0wmlF2SwYWJyoXqdUv01FWL-791LwJCOrGUhQ1tPDw2IWvHnltZNiVMSOq96gHvHXmEe3rbN52p2P_eSrZXUBdYC8y7cs1af5AjnufUXyYo/s400/1207429063_yUFRW-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653755664953678082" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8wpAa4aBrlGF0jdhMa-ZU8jw7itOy_HLNRdq8-jetSCTCYf_GAmwvZTXY6Wq-_zJdFDJ3RVXc90lr3cJdQdWtXU7gClleTWjkoPqm4pz-s20XfrJjwukQtCc8r-sAwSTAG871l1EPn8/s1600/1207430341_FZGze-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8wpAa4aBrlGF0jdhMa-ZU8jw7itOy_HLNRdq8-jetSCTCYf_GAmwvZTXY6Wq-_zJdFDJ3RVXc90lr3cJdQdWtXU7gClleTWjkoPqm4pz-s20XfrJjwukQtCc8r-sAwSTAG871l1EPn8/s400/1207430341_FZGze-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653755666851943106" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Ahhhh...... my head is spinning just looking at you......</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0cRAwcL73tZNvH2DbswN1iI4lLt6AmGOC7UUDKOh9PmYJjxn8HacF4kvgj3G-zoYGvM7n9SpDZ4gvxx6yHFaOARE3fNnF_wk94Wb4Ascmj5a7vRCoaL3nttrOvIR0t7KbUTGhb-y1cc/s1600/1207430628_EdBSP-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEgl0cRAwcL73tZNvH2DbswN1iI4lLt6AmGOC7UUDKOh9PmYJjxn8HacF4kvgj3G-zoYGvM7n9SpDZ4gvxx6yHFaOARE3fNnF_wk94Wb4Ascmj5a7vRCoaL3nttrOvIR0t7KbUTGhb-y1cc/s400/1207430628_EdBSP-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653755654753233122" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNVVdKJ6B1fWiY5YQeAiwxWIt4j9LYiGi0HMtEQMgJfe3KohtT8CVgxhQyjV7A4vUR9KSdWohdiqw8o4Q2BJHzW56u23cwcMeTiRRsGbF_hLFxeGUvdpcld5XCeEtJpN0EWlaFXcKqqJU/s1600/1207758785_sZPAJ-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNVVdKJ6B1fWiY5YQeAiwxWIt4j9LYiGi0HMtEQMgJfe3KohtT8CVgxhQyjV7A4vUR9KSdWohdiqw8o4Q2BJHzW56u23cwcMeTiRRsGbF_hLFxeGUvdpcld5XCeEtJpN0EWlaFXcKqqJU/s400/1207758785_sZPAJ-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653755658136238946" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I can just hear her... " Oh Jeff, you're so handsome.... you look like a business man GI Joe in that suit..."</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVwd1cMR35QJTWH-oihJWGIn5w3ti_xWhVNNzSQEVrp9M3dB8z8GRDsrpXWC_SkIeVApk5nULWdDxPA-ihmXIiJWBANVtxc4BstbGHrUsibygNN_aJS4wWxF1uVRZ9sjaEMvC9vT-SRg/s1600/1207759025_kjmcp-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVwd1cMR35QJTWH-oihJWGIn5w3ti_xWhVNNzSQEVrp9M3dB8z8GRDsrpXWC_SkIeVApk5nULWdDxPA-ihmXIiJWBANVtxc4BstbGHrUsibygNN_aJS4wWxF1uVRZ9sjaEMvC9vT-SRg/s400/1207759025_kjmcp-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653754530288039474" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_XSmPPzEtzg8Ertld27FKGuLzSC6-0685Yn1pJ0nP3I7CFR63v0hivAHJ104p4Ktve6ppQnH-_nODtY731hDqwI2rKCcA1hyWutl8WqNI3wvX_2eU7SjKgonFTKNsI41bZhiyxdCvXc/s1600/1207761244_qV7Wa-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_XSmPPzEtzg8Ertld27FKGuLzSC6-0685Yn1pJ0nP3I7CFR63v0hivAHJ104p4Ktve6ppQnH-_nODtY731hDqwI2rKCcA1hyWutl8WqNI3wvX_2eU7SjKgonFTKNsI41bZhiyxdCvXc/s400/1207761244_qV7Wa-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653754526218149906" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZJYy5GN99D6uM1Dsqz-oWLboMry3lItftsZNvNBk5c820xAlgLqCC7ZX2PTQiI2ReU6Tf9EwpJTBVhL-YPRcKDfB7PATUgqB2_w8ln3IWJj66Zic5mRBXMbOOGjn4-CGvqkZ3ZEj-cc/s1600/1207763040_odbgY-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZJYy5GN99D6uM1Dsqz-oWLboMry3lItftsZNvNBk5c820xAlgLqCC7ZX2PTQiI2ReU6Tf9EwpJTBVhL-YPRcKDfB7PATUgqB2_w8ln3IWJj66Zic5mRBXMbOOGjn4-CGvqkZ3ZEj-cc/s400/1207763040_odbgY-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653754524733986914" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2BBFYCn_Twx9z4IHuFsB45dvin8Ka2Yjq7O_lvL9WxC5Sc_ujg2o6IplYharQf3vGcC9N4sX-o1nyPMHRLo4zp_80EQBUVmLGzhlTlIA6ghO_LvaogKoLS88fREA8m4CNheTYcvwpcU/s1600/1207764937_x79Ec-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2BBFYCn_Twx9z4IHuFsB45dvin8Ka2Yjq7O_lvL9WxC5Sc_ujg2o6IplYharQf3vGcC9N4sX-o1nyPMHRLo4zp_80EQBUVmLGzhlTlIA6ghO_LvaogKoLS88fREA8m4CNheTYcvwpcU/s400/1207764937_x79Ec-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653754522044703906" /></a>And here is where I accidentally uploaded the photos to go to the right of the page. I'll never do this again. It throws off my pilarity.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBL8SYT2zb8SoS6LLco7UNtX8XtEY-c5_U9tlRbp3-xVYRnzWXcDcJ6n8OW-GDO1n4FC_ubE_-ziUe32vJ7a86v9H20eLbvD1fIKZpf0ePdPz8DKxKHl10kkBHOJrU95BRihd7cAX-Ofs/s1600/1207768644_bDV9r-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBL8SYT2zb8SoS6LLco7UNtX8XtEY-c5_U9tlRbp3-xVYRnzWXcDcJ6n8OW-GDO1n4FC_ubE_-ziUe32vJ7a86v9H20eLbvD1fIKZpf0ePdPz8DKxKHl10kkBHOJrU95BRihd7cAX-Ofs/s400/1207768644_bDV9r-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653754521760886642" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfb-pFEvJ8i-ziE6KorNj9FfkfTheUDYjld6SUtcC3EI7fn-i-1wWu11q-admLymwexhyphenhyphen8vK7Opy6yg2BdZicoqWON9Cn1Pu29CayTS6cMYFL08GS3GDsx7Vcvcw06w0Z5_CEU_nfuJI/s1600/1207770089_JKrSP-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfb-pFEvJ8i-ziE6KorNj9FfkfTheUDYjld6SUtcC3EI7fn-i-1wWu11q-admLymwexhyphenhyphen8vK7Opy6yg2BdZicoqWON9Cn1Pu29CayTS6cMYFL08GS3GDsx7Vcvcw06w0Z5_CEU_nfuJI/s400/1207770089_JKrSP-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653753240021520290" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8f7DRbeg7yGb7sFV4jet809qwT_BgDqqI9-ysk2sfF-E5-FxvXvlX07KpurEjkIFw3KFvsxoBd5duBOf60lEf5H2c-6Hgef4-7if7Z57gkFNSRe4dTBaWIkZOxvrwS467xkGF7o_efHY/s1600/1207770369_xw9Pf-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8f7DRbeg7yGb7sFV4jet809qwT_BgDqqI9-ysk2sfF-E5-FxvXvlX07KpurEjkIFw3KFvsxoBd5duBOf60lEf5H2c-6Hgef4-7if7Z57gkFNSRe4dTBaWIkZOxvrwS467xkGF7o_efHY/s400/1207770369_xw9Pf-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653753232361438610" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjL7CC4r7MPHvpk_bBifLjv2-tLiL2MIHupNi8zmcECejU_16DACxEsAO3C4wizCgrf8pDr7jp44aYONwGbOvrmxAbIlagEQeLvd4H8yHnEKeB6dnmBt7EEaTDAsx__bCcYSJxupyxx0/s1600/1207772315_BPYBx-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjL7CC4r7MPHvpk_bBifLjv2-tLiL2MIHupNi8zmcECejU_16DACxEsAO3C4wizCgrf8pDr7jp44aYONwGbOvrmxAbIlagEQeLvd4H8yHnEKeB6dnmBt7EEaTDAsx__bCcYSJxupyxx0/s400/1207772315_BPYBx-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653753235458765826" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRB_DkiHeOqFK1qxX7Fxe-bmSq4mmNslfgoRWCinE0JNZu2uezDVJIRu8_CmajY6C836eE5F8PiC78CqSQ-sQnnQBxGZE-fsM2vZt0HckVJepy_cVljMmP3xXPAGhViaorhehcbFzGqSU/s1600/1207776101_y5iZz-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRB_DkiHeOqFK1qxX7Fxe-bmSq4mmNslfgoRWCinE0JNZu2uezDVJIRu8_CmajY6C836eE5F8PiC78CqSQ-sQnnQBxGZE-fsM2vZt0HckVJepy_cVljMmP3xXPAGhViaorhehcbFzGqSU/s400/1207776101_y5iZz-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653753230192987314" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLArMsUmVLnNXFyX4vCmHO7HtsM6ahbfoF38f6lMyR1tyInWPBznfotXfRyT6RY3lV3v66v9JcHEeb4eK4bBGPOOadBPdHwJ4Q8EJb96vKtLz01U4FnqH3Fxa_b-U0Rr_jaxxkao06as/s1600/1207778309_tctyT-M.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLArMsUmVLnNXFyX4vCmHO7HtsM6ahbfoF38f6lMyR1tyInWPBznfotXfRyT6RY3lV3v66v9JcHEeb4eK4bBGPOOadBPdHwJ4Q8EJb96vKtLz01U4FnqH3Fxa_b-U0Rr_jaxxkao06as/s400/1207778309_tctyT-M.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653753224721422306" /></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><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure he slept well that night.</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 /></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 /></div><div><br /></div><div>" And um... um... Hannah would like... boss me around all the time when we played puppies... and...I used to like to wake her at at five in the morning to look through puppy calenders..."</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>... To quote my sister-in-law directly: </div><div>"I didn't like Hannah at all, but now I think she's perfect for Clint". </div><div>You forgot to tell me whether you like me now or not...</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>An extremely typical shot... I have tons of these.</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 /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Here Timo proclaimed his undying love to Clint as the "best older brother in the world". Awwww....</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 /></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>FINALLY we get to leave!!! Doesn't Clint look great holding a big purse?</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 /></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 style="text-align: center;">Alright... so when I muster up enough patience to upload more, then you will see the wedding part of the wedding...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-26594810860968330812011-09-15T08:28:00.000-07:002011-09-15T09:23:30.738-07:00It's My Birthday...Today is my birthday.<div>I'm a whopping 19.</div><div>Don't laugh.</div><div>A certain tall and beastly humanoid who likes to tease anyone who falls into his trap taunted me endlessly that I was only 12 years older than his daughter and already married and pregnant. Haha, so funny! (not) I forgot to tell him that his wife was 12 years older than me. Hmmm...</div><div>Funny, I hear about someone getting married at 18 and I'll make a comment about how young that is... until I remember that I was 18 and Clint and I had to wait for me to turn that so we could get hitched. It doesn't seem like a year ago that he called me at 5:00 in the morning to tell me happy birthday, and we had a "romantic" five minute phone call while my whole family listened. Nice. But, I did get to hear his voice... and it was awfully cute that he called me as such a darn early hour. I love him.</div><div>This morning was (is) cold, dark and windy... leaves are falling off the trees and swirling around my yard. I love fall. I have been dreading it all summer long... the season brings a closing to hot days at the creek and sweaty nights of volleyball, all of which I love. But this new time of year is lovely. </div><div>I woke up and cooked up some chicken apple sausages... yummy... and toasted a cinnamon bagel with cream cheese and jelly for my hardworking man before he left for work. I usually go down and wave goodbye to him at the driveway while restraining our adorable black puppy who likes car tires. But this morning Clint dragged me back to bed and forced me to watch a movie and relax, 'because it's my birthday'. I feel so spoiled rotten and indulged. He's so sweet to me. After he left I made myself some hot chocolate with some lovely raw milk from church friends, cocoa powder and honey, and.... shhhhh don't tell.... I toasted myself a bagel with butter. It brought back memories of cold mornings in Morgan Hill at the corner bagel shop with my Mom and sister, ordering an onion bagel with butter all wrapped in white paper and slowly eating it in my red and blue plaid school uniform with a gigantic bow on my head (thanks Mom) and black shiny mary-jane's over my knee high socks. Mmm.</div><div>After watching The Patriot and getting watery eyes and feeling like a wimp for crying, I tried on one of my new long sleeved maternity shirts my mom bought me.... yesterday I got a package from her in the mail for my birthday. She basically supplied my entire pregnancy wardrobe. I have THE most generous parents EVER. I was so shocked! I opened each thing with my mouth dropped open.... it all kept on coming. But I didn't call to thank her because I didn't want her to know I opened it a day earlier... don't tell her...</div><div>I drove into Lobelville with the gas light on. I <i>hate </i>that gas light. Yesterday I drove through backroads for what seemed like hours to deliver my sister and miniature in-laws (the kids) back home from our expeditions with the fuel light on and the little arrow thingie below the empty mark. It made me nervous... I was having visions of running out of gas on the side of the road and begging for assistance from some tabacco chewing redneck. But, that didn't happen to me, and I made it home alive. Amber, my mother-in-law Rachel, and my sister-in-law Amy spent the day at a children's consignment fair... I bought my first set of baby items, for fabulous prices. In the baby room is now a pretty cherry changing table, an adorable swing with black and white toille fabric, a white bassinet, and jogging stroller/car seat combo, and cute fabric sling (the fabric is to die for), some clothes, etc. Although it was painful to hand over the cash, I'm thankful for the incredible deals I got. I'm definitely a fan of consignment now, let me tell ya.</div><div>While in Pitkin, Colorado, on our trip last week, Clint and I four-wheeled up to the highest peak as far as we could go, then climbed the rest of it (about 800 feet), ending up at 13,214 feet. It snowed a little while we were up there, and as we were picking our way down the rocky trail, a huge fat marmot appeared... and as Clint had the urge to shoot something (it comes upon him about once a month), he kneeled down, aimed his .22 magnum, and pulled the trigger. The fat thing went rolling down it's rocky perch, and he retrieved it. When I say fat, I mean <i>fat</i>. This thing had nothing inside of it's body but fat. I felt a spine and that's it. I envisioned pure yellow lard lining it's insides. It was kinda cute, and we both felt a little bad about being the cause of it's sudden death... but that eventually passed. I carried it wrapped up in a tarp sitting behind Clint on the very fast ride down the mountain(s) on the four wheeler, thinking I was keeping the blood at bay. But low and behold, when we got back to the camp site, my lap was covered in blood as well as part of the four wheeler. <i>Yuck.</i></div><div>Next post will be a shot of our furry friend and his slaughterer: my hot husband with a gun slung on his back. Mmmmm... a nice view to have up the mountain and down it. As the camera is at home and I have not yet downloaded the photo.... ya'll will have to wait for the scrumptious picture. I'm sure you are <i>terribly </i>disappointed. (wink)</div><div>Tonight will be butternut or pumpkin soup... depending on whether this little country store carries pumpkin or butternut squash. Farewell, friends.</div><div><br /></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-13542502503447976782011-09-04T20:26:00.000-07:002011-09-04T20:51:50.456-07:00The MotherLode... and no, I'm not talking about me.<div style="text-align: center;">We are currently lodging in the luxurious and lovely Colorado mountain city of Aspen. After twenty-two hours of tedious driving, faithfully performed mostly by my husband (due to my lack of confidence in stick-shift driving), we finally arrived last Friday, and have been filling our bellies with superb food and dark chocolate, enjoying the fabulous downtown and scenery, and being enthralled by the awesome volleyball, aka the 39th Annual Mother Lode Tournament, etcetera etcetera. Gabe and Clint played all day Saturday in the grueling sun, and in the morning on Sunday. As you all know... I am extremely, <i>extremely </i>proud of my man, especially when he plays volleyball... so here goes.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG5eI0xxfEUkCrJuABwGQ3dkJAImWHdaMClgMKjGbpKO9Ogre76hyphenhyphen7Vx8mOHCGuh1vtaI7HpFu0hR3nBtb29TdIdSNwRFuLs-3Jeuw5JfqOwJcaIPIRUtKQxulsh6y4XlOnYj06FGXqRA/s1600/DSC02568.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjG5eI0xxfEUkCrJuABwGQ3dkJAImWHdaMClgMKjGbpKO9Ogre76hyphenhyphen7Vx8mOHCGuh1vtaI7HpFu0hR3nBtb29TdIdSNwRFuLs-3Jeuw5JfqOwJcaIPIRUtKQxulsh6y4XlOnYj06FGXqRA/s400/DSC02568.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648713066018091090" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5-KZVBbFyiGn2gkCvaeAutbdHuyvq2Mlmtb0UkAaJHip7L_b1qmf30qhMZOPd2H9rzRMSP9ynNV3A7v1YG8GxZkHMoxIIhNl9rQ-KJpLoruyefiFZprFLN3VlqWMZuG4Z2rZV54dxQ-Q/s1600/DSC02571.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEh5-KZVBbFyiGn2gkCvaeAutbdHuyvq2Mlmtb0UkAaJHip7L_b1qmf30qhMZOPd2H9rzRMSP9ynNV3A7v1YG8GxZkHMoxIIhNl9rQ-KJpLoruyefiFZprFLN3VlqWMZuG4Z2rZV54dxQ-Q/s400/DSC02571.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648713057628293778" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the serve</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDl_gx4gSlxJ8mXUYcvO7IjLnbJ2GS7D0fz2g1kh2vobJVb7jfxfQZhWJUhrTVUg9_Ft9lhvCCIePWIwtW7T6_Ku2vFrtAxg1coUNlvbDrmP4uSQGZghxEs0HjVWDJFK3bu5dRzHfPYw/s1600/DSC02576.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjyDl_gx4gSlxJ8mXUYcvO7IjLnbJ2GS7D0fz2g1kh2vobJVb7jfxfQZhWJUhrTVUg9_Ft9lhvCCIePWIwtW7T6_Ku2vFrtAxg1coUNlvbDrmP4uSQGZghxEs0HjVWDJFK3bu5dRzHfPYw/s400/DSC02576.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712674634636418" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I showed this to Clint to prove to him just how high he jumps since he never believes me and just doesn't comprehend what a jumping beast he is... the net is eight feet high, my man is about 6'1", and he is waaaaayyyyy over it...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvksst1LLLHK9ARst-btBO3V2bKSojluFXhVPd6hqoKuz7LT7N3G6bdhB6x5yzsnQcxFETuSR2ANKFs6XRbZmLTgRZ6hnl5UMhzUFixgSUFnJibd3uru9CV__uusI_uVemQOoYCmeEMcw/s1600/DSC02579.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvksst1LLLHK9ARst-btBO3V2bKSojluFXhVPd6hqoKuz7LT7N3G6bdhB6x5yzsnQcxFETuSR2ANKFs6XRbZmLTgRZ6hnl5UMhzUFixgSUFnJibd3uru9CV__uusI_uVemQOoYCmeEMcw/s400/DSC02579.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712664624348354" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Signaling Gabe for what he'll be blocking</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9r2mARb-ZiYr7Q1freRmLh4RWxJWKEswcOq8UBn_aDWBqebW1Vl_43a-CF6aLwIwlzVE9q6q7o6fgf5h2ZA5Hk0-Ltm-khTTntnkFWwkhFI3ZT-91WZOi5FUPnKfAyxoBhqiSlwPVKhM/s1600/DSC02597.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEj9r2mARb-ZiYr7Q1freRmLh4RWxJWKEswcOq8UBn_aDWBqebW1Vl_43a-CF6aLwIwlzVE9q6q7o6fgf5h2ZA5Hk0-Ltm-khTTntnkFWwkhFI3ZT-91WZOi5FUPnKfAyxoBhqiSlwPVKhM/s400/DSC02597.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712661778652690" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePS0S82Mp9BrQLBKsJ4YAZ_LkrH4uRTzINiOsxQLhxnwex5pJR0xS6xcktQrqIGk85dhUfpqY5XwvAAX_VNGydaBzG4OzNIZE4upS_ETiNrpiIqN_9xpalB-l8inCByBQdgGvzCjav8A/s1600/DSC02598.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePS0S82Mp9BrQLBKsJ4YAZ_LkrH4uRTzINiOsxQLhxnwex5pJR0xS6xcktQrqIGk85dhUfpqY5XwvAAX_VNGydaBzG4OzNIZE4upS_ETiNrpiIqN_9xpalB-l8inCByBQdgGvzCjav8A/s400/DSC02598.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712657348164626" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Okay... these two guys played in the banana outifts all day long. All day. They looked ridiculous, and it certainly didn't help their movement any... but it was funny all the same. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4xlOMf3GDvKIS9iGCiOTK1LYMegcFutnE7ns2xmY3xSIw311owZNwldiZCKsERNoiiROvay9BBjDsF7guobTmEb95DEAzKhllpDT2fi0adEK329ji8V_KsYAnIzlRb3lxTXhG3ruvRY/s1600/DSC02625.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4xlOMf3GDvKIS9iGCiOTK1LYMegcFutnE7ns2xmY3xSIw311owZNwldiZCKsERNoiiROvay9BBjDsF7guobTmEb95DEAzKhllpDT2fi0adEK329ji8V_KsYAnIzlRb3lxTXhG3ruvRY/s400/DSC02625.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712642825282018" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">(insert whistle)</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9v50qCc7FWQfrTgGGDT_-LZ_Zc8nhwG3YLaHhAfGCL41hWXKMRoVdSoFUxkC9apIVSqshvS32Job3bPKzv65eJ_QYMdsYJ8e9ZFQe5IBKt-QA9_6ecqwH5KHzV-MiTLcIqtGjENhK7qg/s1600/DSC02636.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEi9v50qCc7FWQfrTgGGDT_-LZ_Zc8nhwG3YLaHhAfGCL41hWXKMRoVdSoFUxkC9apIVSqshvS32Job3bPKzv65eJ_QYMdsYJ8e9ZFQe5IBKt-QA9_6ecqwH5KHzV-MiTLcIqtGjENhK7qg/s400/DSC02636.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712181807832882" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">(insert <i>loud </i>whistle)</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzB3RtSyjpc_XfpsYqsge5st4VVUflYYJA-3Xd3oT36tJMxjPfJwdCjUS0i-E_RYDIUj9pXqfG2SUGgCRWu8oBaG-gzrFkcXPgoM41E9IlPXsedzUsq-YsSUDx3maHTdFfps8ru0gOIg4/s1600/DSC02643.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEhzB3RtSyjpc_XfpsYqsge5st4VVUflYYJA-3Xd3oT36tJMxjPfJwdCjUS0i-E_RYDIUj9pXqfG2SUGgCRWu8oBaG-gzrFkcXPgoM41E9IlPXsedzUsq-YsSUDx3maHTdFfps8ru0gOIg4/s400/DSC02643.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712179293308978" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Leif didn't enjoy the icecream or anything...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjty2N4p1Vpo1X-Z4S_WDPCkSP47F_hvjtJ-06NIQKOu1raboJFus01wnZU0bMNMm1EQrHOasy6BvL4TVsi23PZ6v9CqN40PKWLFwEbB8c_sA6ZJY_0YQ0OtSPUJhp_oGByD1fgJuDXgqM/s1600/DSC02642.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjty2N4p1Vpo1X-Z4S_WDPCkSP47F_hvjtJ-06NIQKOu1raboJFus01wnZU0bMNMm1EQrHOasy6BvL4TVsi23PZ6v9CqN40PKWLFwEbB8c_sA6ZJY_0YQ0OtSPUJhp_oGByD1fgJuDXgqM/s400/DSC02642.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712174718770066" /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtzSbsA_VZ2OWQq_4MZqw0-FhI6FnG9HXmOoX8xYCHNAF4F0BDYGPvxc5XD67LAIoSjXPk4JVqs6_644xwxgyJlPAc6itYgngS3Lmr0ajpIReQqLLA0iIuCqJwYstlR8bid7WEWxSN2k/s1600/DSC02640.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEirtzSbsA_VZ2OWQq_4MZqw0-FhI6FnG9HXmOoX8xYCHNAF4F0BDYGPvxc5XD67LAIoSjXPk4JVqs6_644xwxgyJlPAc6itYgngS3Lmr0ajpIReQqLLA0iIuCqJwYstlR8bid7WEWxSN2k/s400/DSC02640.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712171736631954" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Okay so I'll allow Gabe a smidge of glory... for a fleeting moment...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtly_EqRNLlhkITPrQfTmqVIzXQ4xXc9qBuGP4e2UTsG9B0oH0jEpGIrK-26uhtUFdg1JdIzULaj3LkJYYGlVahBA3xsCODNVrTkG9g0s_vKWzj7-1qUvJnr2ewPE8-x1khhimvs3BC64/s1600/DSC02823.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtly_EqRNLlhkITPrQfTmqVIzXQ4xXc9qBuGP4e2UTsG9B0oH0jEpGIrK-26uhtUFdg1JdIzULaj3LkJYYGlVahBA3xsCODNVrTkG9g0s_vKWzj7-1qUvJnr2ewPE8-x1khhimvs3BC64/s400/DSC02823.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648712163940900306" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">....and, last but not least, here is my contribution to the array of photos. It's been strange walking around and finally looking<i> pregnant.</i></div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8531823531778302992.post-25207683755334849712011-08-23T06:49:00.000-07:002011-08-23T07:02:55.425-07:00Of Volleyball<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">For those of you who haven't undergone my serious bragging about my husband's athleticism: Clint is an very, very skilled volleyball player. This is a point of immense pride for me. It fascinates me to watch him (and other good players... but mainly him), pass and set the ball with perfect precision and grace, and then... WHAM!!! slam it down on the other side with a hard spike and an maniacal jump supporting it. Thump, thump, goes my beating heart.</div>On Saturday we are headed out to Aspen with Gabe and his family for a volleyball tournament... according to Gabe, the largest in the country. But that's according to Gabe. I've been to only one of Clint's tournaments, and was honored to ooooo and aaahhhh all day long in the hot sun at some amazing plays. He played with his first or second (something like that) cousin...<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/AVvXsEhUn3RnWi3CDF050eBSbBB09vZxf1NJjkPeCBeCX2SmY6zEHn_YENGU5cyZcK8GMkgr6LJ0JLwrCFibGp8E6BYXGrb-9fXWeVUSP1U0Mu2B-DvhrdVHXx-RDKMNRuYw484zymUFSGCN1gM/s400/DSC01568.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644049137645655554" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">These guys were supposedly the most lethal team. But... somehow, they were left in confusion by my man and his cousin. They threw them through a loop of despair and bewilderment.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_Dd013Vb8Qs-5PBoP3d5T7Ky1rp_u_ll7cEZYn1hlfbV10TxWlALGHY_dRIYnIIGMJtnUQIRXdh0BybaU9cZr14yPb1uBurIDr2GQbt-WaHwhz0W1xv_ZrTVA0G7sttXf4rL4M8nZW0/s1600/DSC01565.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEid_Dd013Vb8Qs-5PBoP3d5T7Ky1rp_u_ll7cEZYn1hlfbV10TxWlALGHY_dRIYnIIGMJtnUQIRXdh0BybaU9cZr14yPb1uBurIDr2GQbt-WaHwhz0W1xv_ZrTVA0G7sttXf4rL4M8nZW0/s400/DSC01565.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644049130610816802" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Right over ya... buddy...</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8Oyj64tRpGtQTnpYhBXzLCLL3GJCH-UGLmFL5e0VWUeYE3c-wgen-W22SrwqRfA-7Uvlihk8QRl50mBOlnifkE0g8kgSH4XIjimjS4fVPLQrPxQoqIYcE8m-3dyrzC5oOTo5lgEFde0/s1600/DSC01560.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEin8Oyj64tRpGtQTnpYhBXzLCLL3GJCH-UGLmFL5e0VWUeYE3c-wgen-W22SrwqRfA-7Uvlihk8QRl50mBOlnifkE0g8kgSH4XIjimjS4fVPLQrPxQoqIYcE8m-3dyrzC5oOTo5lgEFde0/s400/DSC01560.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644049125776294770" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Look at that air! that's my husband y'all!</div></div>Clint and Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05280184689199447098noreply@blogger.com1