tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29724850721572190172024-03-13T12:59:47.237-04:00The extraordinary ordinary meAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-31313082538645584142012-09-19T01:02:00.000-04:002012-09-19T01:30:15.873-04:00my semi-valiant last-ditch effort to have a part in #PROJECTdecor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Painfully finding myself, once again, on the dull edge of modern technology, I ask myself a question:<br />
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Oh, it's not my usual non-smartphoner musings, like, "If the program is called Twitter, and the messages are "tweets" are the users referred to as "twits?" Or, "Instagram?" OOOooo it's about time someone created a fast-food s'more chain."<br />
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Today I wonder, "How can I participate in the ultimately right-up-my-alley #<a href="http://www.freshmommyblog.com/2012/09/projectdecor-cleaning-clutter-diy-love.html">PROJECTdecor</a>?"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcREKNtFcX_leO_p85Khd_e7ecPCt_B5tqubpuIL-wSPlaAONw4fczweB1551B6rMVHbWyuz5m2P13j29eCVZTqJiA0i-gjPbRQ-4BcBj9Jn-DlPNpre3lWJJ69hEiH118oO7kRKt8k_U/s1600/_MG_4346_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>I tried uploading pictures to Twitter, where I received a message that my files were too massive. I tried dumbing my files down, only to discover I have no time or patience for that. I tried activating a hand-me-down smart phone, only to be told by the customer service rep that the ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY WE CAN'T HELP YOU WITHOUT IT THANKS FOR YOUR MONEY HOPE YOU FIND IT activation code was on the long-since discarded packaging... Sigh. So, lastly, I'm going to link up by posting my own blog entry, not because I choose to be a loner, or think I'm above joining the rest, but that I have exhausted my sad technological options. But enough wordiness, because, if you're anything like me, you don't even notice the text in the home-improvement magazine, it's all about the PHOTOS.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_guFk0KhRbjNXcOzpYy7f1JnrR5P_eocIedeXfq_ciDutNsGXq80sYNlAdeHf85UPMLcGcw80aeHjRP8h1LWuBHFHEyPzuSjZVQ5fxQLT-Csnpi_MztcNfKi6kA-pUJFT79QuGjwjZAQ/s1600/_MG_4348_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_guFk0KhRbjNXcOzpYy7f1JnrR5P_eocIedeXfq_ciDutNsGXq80sYNlAdeHf85UPMLcGcw80aeHjRP8h1LWuBHFHEyPzuSjZVQ5fxQLT-Csnpi_MztcNfKi6kA-pUJFT79QuGjwjZAQ/s640/_MG_4348_2.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This stuffed garage sale find was the inspiration piece for the entire room. I just love the hand knitted "Dad" bear with his little son. Such a unique toy (with fabulous colors, I might add.) The blanket/comforter is two pieces of fleece from the fabric store, a pattern sewn onto a solid orange. I like the way it looks folded over with just a sneaky bit of orange popping out.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't part with these "half" curtains, handmade by my grandmother. Originally, I thought I could never use them because they didn't "fit" the taller windows in our new house. But, Grandma came over one day and hung them halfway, just so we could have a bit of privacy until we found new ones. Guess what? You know what. Yeah. They "fit" perfectly, don't they? </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMSpLf7mkjHXzkGgqEDgnytcgydyIp1TbIVLIXolvc2gLW6Ww0I4IN3-4JjZA8W7wUxoblVBzezhF6V6gNfxCa0fWrOjlj5zLsFTWqXFcbRzp4SbPdXZomyyDUursYWpsnSPJKZ0QxBs/s1600/_MG_4331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMSpLf7mkjHXzkGgqEDgnytcgydyIp1TbIVLIXolvc2gLW6Ww0I4IN3-4JjZA8W7wUxoblVBzezhF6V6gNfxCa0fWrOjlj5zLsFTWqXFcbRzp4SbPdXZomyyDUursYWpsnSPJKZ0QxBs/s640/_MG_4331.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garage sale score! Couldn't find one of these that I liked ANYWHERE! And then BLAM outta nowhere I spied it among the dusty felt Christmas bows and the polyester ties. Embarrassed to lose my composure over a yard-sale growth chart, I blamed the single teardrop on (ahem, fake sneeze & nose wipe for added believability) - allergies.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDMK6tyAr-0Qt1mD-x3B8erftMbdZ5Spp8KOcRGLPpfP5_jWXzuT63lTydMXXrbvNfoSOAayo-DSr4MqhDJ4Y8x3xpNq1N4SdMBn_3eolPvYNYxn9SqbIZM15uMST5bMmPu8xXLxWljw/s1600/_MG_4336_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmkgNlm39ZAVwdLSwZsfTM_QhrDIXQAjgbrZAShFIj35BYG6Bjm-bZGnWX26OWudT5YUrKqrOLdcMBrSZFLHKe_tJx612Z9HaO7AMI4KRX98SZIV_2T56aif56ZEWJoBlYwMGuPp7UZA/s1600/_MG_4320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmkgNlm39ZAVwdLSwZsfTM_QhrDIXQAjgbrZAShFIj35BYG6Bjm-bZGnWX26OWudT5YUrKqrOLdcMBrSZFLHKe_tJx612Z9HaO7AMI4KRX98SZIV_2T56aif56ZEWJoBlYwMGuPp7UZA/s640/_MG_4320.jpg" title="Noah's Room" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dresser on the left was given as a wedding gift to my grandmother in 1940-something. When she moved from a house to a small apartment she decided to leave it to the new home owners. Fortunately, her grand-daughter wasn't having it. Well, actually, she was having it - for herself that is. She's sanded and repainted it a couple of times since then. The mural was a blast. I kinda made it up as I went. I don't usually wing it, but, sometimes you've just got to forgo tedious sketching and blue prints, and just flow with it. Polka-dotted leaves? Answer: POLKA DOTTED ANYTHING = YES. We do polka dots in this house - lots of them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1IMaTyow1RdB-bPO1UAkvtmiyA905n019QIMTidoh0RySPEhX8FUZmHI3YYSrfPtNILOBKhNn6mfwGPVSgNMtjHIE6j9GVAjETzsdf0Cpem-VNa9aU0Av8oxH2Jmvij4VEpIq-f-jhs/s1600/_MG_4364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1IMaTyow1RdB-bPO1UAkvtmiyA905n019QIMTidoh0RySPEhX8FUZmHI3YYSrfPtNILOBKhNn6mfwGPVSgNMtjHIE6j9GVAjETzsdf0Cpem-VNa9aU0Av8oxH2Jmvij4VEpIq-f-jhs/s640/_MG_4364.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Handed down from big sister, this bookshelf serves as a great guitar stand. Guitar strap is a belt made by an a tribesman in Northern Argentina.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcREKNtFcX_leO_p85Khd_e7ecPCt_B5tqubpuIL-wSPlaAONw4fczweB1551B6rMVHbWyuz5m2P13j29eCVZTqJiA0i-gjPbRQ-4BcBj9Jn-DlPNpre3lWJJ69hEiH118oO7kRKt8k_U/s1600/_MG_4346_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcREKNtFcX_leO_p85Khd_e7ecPCt_B5tqubpuIL-wSPlaAONw4fczweB1551B6rMVHbWyuz5m2P13j29eCVZTqJiA0i-gjPbRQ-4BcBj9Jn-DlPNpre3lWJJ69hEiH118oO7kRKt8k_U/s640/_MG_4346_2.jpg" width="426" /></a></span><br />
"Christina, are those clothes hung on your old shower curtain rod?" Yes, yes they are. Notice the adorable sized violin hanging alongside. My little man is a full blown musician. He's a bit of an accessory guy as well. He loves his hats and "straps" or as I call them, ties.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDMK6tyAr-0Qt1mD-x3B8erftMbdZ5Spp8KOcRGLPpfP5_jWXzuT63lTydMXXrbvNfoSOAayo-DSr4MqhDJ4Y8x3xpNq1N4SdMBn_3eolPvYNYxn9SqbIZM15uMST5bMmPu8xXLxWljw/s1600/_MG_4336_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDMK6tyAr-0Qt1mD-x3B8erftMbdZ5Spp8KOcRGLPpfP5_jWXzuT63lTydMXXrbvNfoSOAayo-DSr4MqhDJ4Y8x3xpNq1N4SdMBn_3eolPvYNYxn9SqbIZM15uMST5bMmPu8xXLxWljw/s640/_MG_4336_2.jpg" width="426" /></a></span><br />
A church closing her doors graciously allowed us to come and take anything we might use. I picked this orange wall organizer because I had a few very important pieces to file.<br />
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The frames are from his formerly frogs room. I replaced amphibian drawings with something even lovelier :)<br />
then added some wired ribbon I found in my gift wrapping supplies. The books are stored in another garage sale find. I paid a dollar for this magazine display.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Reach for the stars? Absolutely. But, usually this is where someone reaches for dry-erase markers... but, sometimes it's really hard to put things back where you found them, especially if you're four.</td></tr>
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Wow. I took pictures of some other rooms too, but golly-geewillakers, this would go on forever if I did another living space tonight.<br />
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Thanks <a href="http://www.facebook.com/groups/382283328508557/384926928244197/?ref=notif&notif_t=group_activity"> Tabitha</a>, for letting me kinda-sorta participate! xoxo<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-53209301667686431332011-06-16T00:53:00.004-04:002011-06-16T16:29:05.831-04:00Abe and the babe. A tired toddler makes any outing memorable. So it was with our recent trip to Springfield, Illinois. I can't get enough of early American history, so naturally, being in a place laden with such historic significance, I was thrilled. Having to choose from a plethora of important places to visit in a short amount of time, we narrowed our sights on three in particular: The Lincoln Museum, Lincoln's home, and Lincoln's tomb.<br />
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</div><div>Part 1 - <u>The Museum</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZfevM3kpY25jHkAsQtk1BBS5KVb9kcTroP-9b4bcL2A5VSLjBVP1_6oacjwAqENnSvKY7FeQ4oH1wT5NNV4j9MmYS9fhlJrYxe3dbFWUfoPAHye4EyPUG9CK3Sp9DgLbuAFR1uZ-DBw/s1600/IMG_8013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZfevM3kpY25jHkAsQtk1BBS5KVb9kcTroP-9b4bcL2A5VSLjBVP1_6oacjwAqENnSvKY7FeQ4oH1wT5NNV4j9MmYS9fhlJrYxe3dbFWUfoPAHye4EyPUG9CK3Sp9DgLbuAFR1uZ-DBw/s400/IMG_8013.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div><u><br />
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</div><div> First off, this place is amazing. It's indescribable, so I won't begin to try. I will tell you, however, that of all the wonderful things to see, my two year old son was most fascinated with... get ready for it.... a wax dog. Yep, inside a replica of our sixteenth president's humble first home, Abe lays reading by the fire next to a fake mutt. That was the very first exhibit we explored. We thought it was cute how taken our child was with the wax creature. We even chuckled a bit (<i>the first time</i>) when Noah ducked under the off-limit ropes and touched the dog, setting off a security alarm.</div><div><br />
</div><div> And every other exhibit invariably went something like this... "Oh, wow Michael... did you see this? These are the real gloves Mary Todd was wearing at the Ford Theater. Look! They still have blood on them." "Hang on, I'm reading the Emancipation Proclamation." "Ok, um, where's Noah?" Isn't he with you?" "No, I thought he was with you." Beeeep. Beeep. Beeep. Beeep. Then Steve (we were on a first-name basis by the end of the day), the security guard, would shut off the alarm attached to that stupid dog and we would retrieve our stealthy toddler. We had to call it a day when our generally-very-well-mannered little guy thrust himself upon John Wilkes Booth's feet (allowing us to experience a meet and greet with another security personnel) and threw one of those <i>that'll-never-be-my-kid</i> tantrums, because we wouldn't allow him to get near "Rufus" again.</div><div><br />
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</div><div>Part 2 - <u>The House</u></div><div><u><br />
</u></div><div>Before Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd remodeled their 1839 home, It looked liked this.</div><div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxS11xKAsC0yjuDs2kYt0JAClH5PtWO11j1m9bqte8UEFH1zTNAshu-bQekacLZeDWamJ3wOZyW4_l7UYAlyq_48aDJRW64kiDzTmhKofUcQ41KhyphenhyphendmQw1KXj5WVIcFabovaop81rEME/s1600/IMG_8151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxS11xKAsC0yjuDs2kYt0JAClH5PtWO11j1m9bqte8UEFH1zTNAshu-bQekacLZeDWamJ3wOZyW4_l7UYAlyq_48aDJRW64kiDzTmhKofUcQ41KhyphenhyphendmQw1KXj5WVIcFabovaop81rEME/s400/IMG_8151.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today, Michael and Christina Lusk's 1838 home looks like this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTjMrQCB0-sEmRhSQt52oYEGPFP9XRKx1lRa7OFDxRRPh5gVTfwJnQ-wBH0IO8D_nHnzdT712KLc1ARVhbQaj9bP_Ue422R75Q9-dF58BcGMG66rug4zg0B_CSgy89yl-4Pd8tJehNSA/s1600/1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTjMrQCB0-sEmRhSQt52oYEGPFP9XRKx1lRa7OFDxRRPh5gVTfwJnQ-wBH0IO8D_nHnzdT712KLc1ARVhbQaj9bP_Ue422R75Q9-dF58BcGMG66rug4zg0B_CSgy89yl-4Pd8tJehNSA/s400/1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Pretty neat, huh?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our pooped-out little guy actually fell asleep in Lincoln's bedroom. My son has slept in Abe's bedroom. That's cool, really cool. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimGrH-1uL-_LcsWNYx4D1x1C9RHKlDW6YQ0QYC5xrTfHr-41ZlnPfrRyEQj9HJs4w5eU6brCdpqVaUt-81_Xyht7fza6YIHlwQ9220ibw9nadrosAZhe0lM7tDIZ6HdT9imGczr-km9q0/s1600/IMG_8118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimGrH-1uL-_LcsWNYx4D1x1C9RHKlDW6YQ0QYC5xrTfHr-41ZlnPfrRyEQj9HJs4w5eU6brCdpqVaUt-81_Xyht7fza6YIHlwQ9220ibw9nadrosAZhe0lM7tDIZ6HdT9imGczr-km9q0/s640/IMG_8118.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I think my favorite memory of the house is my kids playing together on the front lawn. Watching them chase each other I could see the Lincoln children in them, playing in the very same place nearly two centuries ago. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Part 3 - <u>The Tomb</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u><br />
</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The cemetery is just your ordinary cemetery, until you reach the heart of it. In the center of the burial grounds stands the most beautifully ornate vault I have ever, or may ever seen/see. Upon entering you must observe the tomb as a reverent, almost holy, site. Hats off, moment of silence kind of deal. Ha! Moment of silence! Noah wouldn't allow the precious Amish group viewing the crypt with us to hear a word of the guide's presentation. He picked a juicy green one and held it out to Michael, saying, "You want to eat my booger?" When Michael refused the gooey delicacy, Noah became indignant and demanding. Booger in his father's face he screamed, "Eat my booger!!!", over and over until we removed ourselves from the building...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">All in all, it really was a great trip, and, thanks to my exhausted third born, a truly unforgettable experience.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Christina</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQNmUZ32PWn1seSNi9FazrspCJkV1Qr1Df0PutPfLgZ4IW-AXj8FVzRYUwYWAf9NG36wHTH0N-rpfW6wWppQaq5K5S0qCCAFiTtXmmbz4GvKrcWGGavYbFquNvgw-G3U-GFW_oKUeKPk/s1600/IMG_7894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQNmUZ32PWn1seSNi9FazrspCJkV1Qr1Df0PutPfLgZ4IW-AXj8FVzRYUwYWAf9NG36wHTH0N-rpfW6wWppQaq5K5S0qCCAFiTtXmmbz4GvKrcWGGavYbFquNvgw-G3U-GFW_oKUeKPk/s640/IMG_7894.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-82349354542722738092011-04-26T09:41:00.001-04:002011-04-26T09:43:57.517-04:00Behind the Scenes Today is newsletter day! Newsletter day is, well, as you may have already guessed, the day we create our Flyers, postcards, etc. for Lusk World Outreach! This entry is kind of like a VIP backstage pass. I'm letting you in on some ministry secrets that the rest of the world is not privy to. And, if I could insert a sound button into the blog, you would have just experienced an on-the-edge-of-their-seats crowd oooing and ahhhing. I wish I had a sound button so often, sigh, for so many things. Just think of how fun it would be to have any sound you'd like at your disposal, anytime you please. Can you imagine your kid walking in on you as you're eating the cheesecake you hid behind the brussel sprouts for such an occasion as this, and as they begin unraveling their crafty thread of reasoning of why they're entitled to a bite of the special treat, M.C. Hammer begins belting "Can't Touch This, whoaaaaaaaa, whooaaaaa." Hmm, Where was I before that lovely daydream...? Oh yes, ministry distribution material...<br />
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Rule #1 for Newsletter day - No kiddos! We adore them, but, since Rev. Christina Lusk (who more frequently employs the alias, "Mo-ommm!") covers most of the graphic design for the ministry, she mustn't be demanded to forfeit her computer to a sesamestreet.org junkie, or become the referee of choice in the epic "He ripped the head off my doll! - I'm going to rip off his!", battles during these important design sessions.<br />
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</div><div> So, here I sit semi-alone (Michael is on the phone upstairs with some foreign somebody or other on the line. At least, I think he is using the phone. He's speaking so loudly it's possible that someone could hear him overseas without the device). <br />
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How does a newsletter come to fruition?, you may ask. Well, as it's name states, it is a letter about news. So, first off, we decide whats the latest and greatest thing happening that our precious, precious partners (ok, you should hear that precious partner bit the way I do in my head. Think Benny Hinn... good job. See, how easy that could've been to picture if I had that sound button.) have made happen by giving to LWO. It's always great stuff because Jesus proves himself alive everywhere we go! ("He's alliiivvveee." - Igor to Frankenstein's master. Gotta get a sound button.)</div><div><br />
Michael is the news master. He gets the ball rolling by writing the text he wants and choosing the photos and testimonies to be included. And, based on budget or the amount of things we wish to report, we decide together the size the document will be when it arrives to our partners. Smaller sizes cost considerably less, but we can tell you so much more if we opt for the full page. <br />
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Ahhh... the photos - sometimes we luck out and realize we've gotten some great images of people who received a miracle. And, other times, our photographers, for whatever reason, took pictures of that pretty butterfly floating nearby, instead of the dude who just had his amputated leg grow back... Occasionally, there's a lot of forehead slapping on Newsletter Day. We do the best we can with what we have. (It's really not that we have bad photographers, often we have very little time to train whomever is available to work the camera. Photo journalism is a learned skill and is much easier to do when you understand fully how the photos will be used - not something readily learned in a short time period.)<br />
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Wow... this is long. So, if you're still with me... Ok, I talked about text, check, photos, check...<br />
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It's my job to take the photos and the words and make something attractive out of it. Sometimes that works like a dream, and sometimes... Hey, I've just discovered a huge similarity between our printed materials and my blog entries. <br />
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Time wise, it can take anywhere from a couple of hours to ALL DAY and then some to complete the artistic process, and I am truly amazed and blessed by the positive feedback on my designs, because, honestly, I really don't know what the heck I'm doing. If something looks cool, more often than not, it was one truly happy fluke. But hey, I'll take the compliments. They boost my stamina and keep me experimenting with techniques for the next time around.<br />
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After my design had been proof read (I'm still striving for a typo-free rough draft.) and approved by the boss, we upload it to the printshop who sends it to our AMAZING treasurer/secretary/office assistant, Shaena, who's stuffs and licks hundreds of envelopes. (Just think of all the people who come into contact with her DNA each month -no worries, she's clean. And no, we're not too cheap or evil to get her self-stick envelopes. The glue in them melts when she runs them through the printer.). She gets them all stamped and takes them to the post office, where a bunch of other people who don't even know they're working on God's behalf, deliver them to you.<br />
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Couple of other tidbits... lemme think. Oh yes, lots of coffee and/or mate (mah-tay), a fair amount of glaring at the evangelist for even suggesting that I change the font on the layers I just flattened, (That means I can't make changes because I told the computer the project was finished.) and equally fair amount of apologies for glaring...<br />
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And my favorite Newsletter Day secret... We just about pee our pants thinking about all the exciting things we get to brag on Jesus about. We shout and high five and sing the Hallelujah Chorus (not really something two people can do very well by themselves, IF ONLY I had a sound button, we could have some bass and soprano accompaniment) when we finally order the material, knowing that people like you will be just as excited about the miracles as we are!<br />
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Hmm, how will I end this exceedingly long dissertation on the LWO monthly updates? I guess I'll let you end it... Pretend you can reach into my mind and press the button. Two clicks will be a standing ovation from that same crowd in the beginning of the entry, and three is an old man with his head hanging off the bed executing a perfectly rhythmic snore - drool drip combination... <br />
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Oh wait, all this talking about newsletters... I should show you one, huh?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6JksuISQaXX2_1Qg3TPLTZB67G0ItamFURjxQinNxouYnR020K75qAwJx6fyeGtkgHxU41HoB7sG8PYUFgiQkrgm-KQetwj7R44eUGP9leZKaC8_2W0WULUisKgp7KwEjm3os3vpkWg/s1600/newsletter+side+Danny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="497" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6JksuISQaXX2_1Qg3TPLTZB67G0ItamFURjxQinNxouYnR020K75qAwJx6fyeGtkgHxU41HoB7sG8PYUFgiQkrgm-KQetwj7R44eUGP9leZKaC8_2W0WULUisKgp7KwEjm3os3vpkWg/s640/newsletter+side+Danny.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Also, sometimes, you know, er, just for fun - yeah, that's it... fun, we let a typo slip by. Can you find it in the above flyer? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hey, I just had an idea... Why don't <i>you </i>hop on our mailing list. I'll bet you bloggeroonies will get just as excited about the stuff in them as we do! Here, for a one-time offer, I'll even pass out my personal email address so you can send me your home address. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sincerely, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">christinalusk@rocketmail.com</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">P.S. There's always room for volunteers to be a part of the history making process. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What's your gifting or hobby? We'd love to have <b>YOU</b> join our team!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-81572179741192687202011-04-21T12:43:00.012-04:002011-04-21T18:23:07.686-04:00Ramblings of PBS Kids hostage Tonight, I am asking myself, "Christina, why are you even sitting down to write a blog?" It's a valid question, since there's no way, after listening to Cookie Monster, (<b><i>for an hour and a half</i></b>) sing "C is for Cookie" - that's right, the SAME song, <i>over and over</i>, I'll be able to, in any way, communicate with adult readers. I'm not even sure what I just typed even makes sense. <br />
Noah is on such a Sesame Street kick, that as I plan my decor for my new home, I forget that this is a fleeting phase that will last but a moment, and that I don't really need to match my walls to the ever present furry characters that are ceaselessly dragged about our home and yard. Yes, indeed, I think I will put in a phone call tomorrow - "Cancel my order Sherman Williams, I came to my senses and decided against the Snuffleuffagus Sienna afterall."<br />
May I never forget this period of time won't last but a moment. And, may I never forget that I am indeed an intelligent woman. This tiny blip in history may a little too often leave me wondering what's happening this very moment in world news? Am I up to date on popular action flicks? - Negative. I could, however, go on and on about how Ricky Gervais is the funniest celebrity to ever lull Elmo to sleep. I could tell you that Burt and Ernie's never altered sweaters are back in style. <br />
Tonight as I foggy headedly write this message, I remind myself that I am the same person who got 4.0s in her college courses, who's bilingual, who plays a mean game of chess, and cannot only spell and pronounce "connoisseur", but that I am one in many things non-PBS Kids. And, I encourage moms all over the blogosphere not to lose heart and feel like you're slipping into a never-ending sweatpants and diapers abyss... but rather, embrace such a time for what it truly is, a gift. And, if what older people tell me is correct, it really doesn't last that long, and all too soon, we'll be looking back at these clean-the-toothpaste-out-of-the-heat-vent-<i>AGAIN </i>days, wishing we could spend just one more moment in them, looking into the innocent eyes that trust us completely to do what is in their best interest and shape them into the prosperous, educated, and happy adults we want them to be.<br />
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And without further ado, I must tell you, as the great Oscar the Grouch would say: NOW GET AWAY FROM MY BLOG - SCRAM!<br />
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Go ask your kids what they want to be when they grow up. Make a card for <i>them. </i> Play outside with those eager littles. LISTEN to them. Tell your tykes that Jesus has SUPER AWESOME plans for them (Reading Jeremiah 29:11 to them is a great way to do that)... and most importantly... Take those older folk's advice and never miss a moment you can't have back.<br />
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Much, much love,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The Extraordinary Ordinary Only Sometimes Semi-Coherent Me<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">PS. Teach them good dental hygiene too. That's important.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-1409314564698241092011-04-08T22:25:00.009-04:002011-04-08T23:10:01.996-04:00The First InkToday marked the fifth anniversary of our son's birthday. It is sadly, also the anniversary of the day we discovered he had silently slipped into heaven. Our grief is not nearly as heavy as it was that first year without him, as we are now able to identify passage of time, cook and eat our own meals without it seeming as challenging as climbing Mt. Everest during an avalanche, and there are, not complete days, but certainly hours that pass without thinking of that bittersweet day five years ago.<br />
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Today we (Michael and the kids, I, at the last minute decided it would be too much for me) visited his grave, the place where his tiny body lay inside his tiny coffin, inside the earth. I will visit soon, bringing fresh paint to color the crayons (His name is inside a crayon where the word Crayola usually is.) and the necessary tools to properly edge and clean his grave. His stone also appropriately reads, "Having Fun With Jesus".<br />
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We also, as per request of Lucy, sorted through a box of mementos. We affectionally call it, "Isaac's Box".<br />
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Without fail, it always rushes back. The lid comes off the box and we sort through locks of his soft brown hair. Our faces snuggle into the blanket we wrapped him in durning those precious moments in which we could cuddle his tiny body before we left the hospital. The bonnet placed on his head after his birth is set aside to allow the soaked tears to evaporate before carefully replacing it in the box. We read the piles of cards so many dear to us sent, while wishing with all their might that they could've done more. And we contemplate whether or not we should've written something in his empty journal with the price tag from Borders never removed.<br />
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Lucy seemed especially drawn to that journal. She held it close and studied us, for a long time. She admitted later she had never seen us cry like that and was waiting for the right moment to ask a question. "Mom, Dad, May I write something for Isaac in this book?" We nodded and she scurried off in search of a pen. <br />
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Extremely curious as to what she had written, I peeked over her shoulder and was moved by her happy message to her little brother:<br />
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"Today is your fifth Birth-day. We got into your box. My favirite thing that I found was the picture that mom drew for your gravestone and two of your ducks. Today your little brother Noah said to dad I love" you daddy. It was so cute. I hope you have nice Birthdays in heaven."<br />
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It's good to remember our loved ones and our times together, even if our times together were only the times they kicked our ice cream bowl off our abdomens. But, a little "fresh ink" moment can help draw us gently back into "the now" with a joy no sadness can conquer. A refreshing perspective from my gem of a daughter has me basking in the present with two beautiful healthy children, and looking forward to the future when I will be surrounding myself with three.<br />
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And now, I might just grab that pen and share a thought or two in that formerly empty journal.<br />
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Goodnight, Everyone.<br />
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PS. Lucy also asked me if Isaac's room in heaven had a closet made out of cheese balls. I answered her with the most frequent response to her inquiries, "Honey, I really don't know, but that's a great question."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-42895191326617087892011-03-18T23:02:00.001-04:002011-03-18T23:18:22.393-04:00I am not normal. By Michael Lusk<div style="text-align: center;">Evenin'/Mornin Bloggeroonies. Today's entry is provided by my anything-but-normal husband. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hi. This is Michael Lusk. I’m not normal.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqoD3Qkhyx0spPbKsXcKWuOHAJoGOeEJCzPPGCWv0g2wLc55fkmu9BA_FmyLXn527LdfvDldoitYtobA_WVMCOrktl8PqQGM2rzQtiBUj-WTzo4He1Jsw2rOXzmJhpgjvP3KMABg44moQ/s1600/IMG_0731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqoD3Qkhyx0spPbKsXcKWuOHAJoGOeEJCzPPGCWv0g2wLc55fkmu9BA_FmyLXn527LdfvDldoitYtobA_WVMCOrktl8PqQGM2rzQtiBUj-WTzo4He1Jsw2rOXzmJhpgjvP3KMABg44moQ/s400/IMG_0731.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">In fact, I am not even trying to be. My wife, as you can see, is pretty out there, too. As you might guess, our kids are following in suite.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I suppose we just decided that our standard for life is not based on what everyone considers to be “normal”. Sure, maybe our extreme, missionary lifestyle isn’t palatable for some, but we decided a long time ago that we are going to live “sold out” to the One who died to save us – to live like we really believe that what we say about Him is true. That’s what has lead us into our greatest adventures and joys as a family.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Like when…</div><div style="text-align: center;">We lived in a cute little guest house with giant spiders.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We ventured out of our safe home in Michigan with our suitcases and a six-month-old baby.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Or the time we had about twenty grand in small bills on our person walking the streets of South America.</div><div style="text-align: center;">How bout the time we had to fight off the street dogs just to get groceries.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I could go on…</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There are challenges when you decide to follow Him, no question. But nothing compared to what’s it’s like blazing your own trail and calling your own shots. Frank Sinatra said, “I did it my way.” Well, look where that got him – dead. (OK, so everyone dies – my point still stands.) Sorry, Frankie, but your life mantra is psychotic. No, sir. I put my hand to the plow. I’m never looking back.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF70xRMm1gSUefZ4KBBuXE2RfUs9FcUClHRz9hBSXPW1wa5u9viLrdXvyOR_C03wChn23gT2ID_XT1jyae8Rs11Tuc8nBMDfEsr9tpjfIchyphenhyphenUBvMbgfuB430qJ2GQwc2C_NlfQQuu5v7I/s1600/IMG_2091_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF70xRMm1gSUefZ4KBBuXE2RfUs9FcUClHRz9hBSXPW1wa5u9viLrdXvyOR_C03wChn23gT2ID_XT1jyae8Rs11Tuc8nBMDfEsr9tpjfIchyphenhyphenUBvMbgfuB430qJ2GQwc2C_NlfQQuu5v7I/s640/IMG_2091_2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture was taken in Gancedo, Chaco. (Argentina) That big rock is earth's second largest meteorite. We stopped en-route to an open air crusade where we witnessed miracle after miracle. Jesus is alive!</td></tr>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-32303890363718470462011-03-14T00:46:00.004-04:002011-03-15T12:10:21.074-04:00Unsolved Mysteries... Ever feel deep and thinky enough that reaching for a pipe while donning a dorky polka dot bow-tie and listening to the "music" my husband buys wouldn't seem unnatural? Tonight I am entirely consumed by a single permeating thought. It surfaces from time to time, like that peculiar reoccurring dream we all tend to have, or our shared desire to haphazardly run down the neat row of orange construction pylons who stare at us mockingly as if they know all too well, traffic tickets and heated lectures from our spouses would never permit us to act on such a whim. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> I'm sure you've wondered it too.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Why me?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Of all the persons on this planet, most of whom live in poverty and are plagued with innumerable fears, Why was I born, not one of them, but here, on the soil of the United States of America?</div><div style="text-align: center;">It seems to me that God could've ordained that I'd be a little girl in Africa, a precious child conceived in the womb a woman who's blood test would read positive for HIV. Could I not have, just as easily, been that infant, the dear orphan baby who knows nothing of birthdays, who most likely won't see her second?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Am I any more deserving than she is?" Surely not.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Is it by chance, that as I breathed my first I was greeted by a silver spoon?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I seek. I knock. I ask.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I listen.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Why me?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I search without understanding of something too great for my comprehension. It matters not how hard or how long I ponder. I shall never, as long as I remain on this earth, know the reason; for The Answer withholds such an answer from me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So, for now, I embrace with all thanksgiving, the lavish wealth with which I have been so graciously endued, the family I do not deserve, and the saving knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ which is the root of my beautiful country, my sparkling silver spoon.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh that I may take that precious knowledge to the lost and dying people of the world. Oh that my words may give them life and hope. May the Gospel of Jesus Christ delivered by my tongue and my pen, be the nation-changing power unto them that will someday cause their descendants to search into the depths of the universe for the ever unanswered question.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Why me?"<br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-33728625982028228852011-02-26T22:26:00.001-05:002011-02-26T22:26:52.393-05:00Winter has it's beautiful moments too...<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/christinalusk/5480291103/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5011/5480291103_e4c166cf4f.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/christinalusk/5480291103/">Father & Son snow moment</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/christinalusk/">stinapie</a>.</span></div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-2558012678157601512011-02-02T23:47:00.006-05:002011-02-03T00:42:24.465-05:00Wordless Wednesday - Science Class<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">All kinds of fascinating exploration took place last week at the Cranbrook Institute of Science...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuVA-Cnwu1GHrDd4j2p109z3AoOQJGFc-PzCQZu1AQQg-X8Oz7f3YPFuMHmsw4GZm-B_Do5KcWD-O-e0JEqZgOc5p4lIcpu0BeOfxcMPVaJmZN4s4U9ogGzUkya1HkbY0yNb7Ryj0WF8/s1600/phehgmatic+noah+at+museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuVA-Cnwu1GHrDd4j2p109z3AoOQJGFc-PzCQZu1AQQg-X8Oz7f3YPFuMHmsw4GZm-B_Do5KcWD-O-e0JEqZgOc5p4lIcpu0BeOfxcMPVaJmZN4s4U9ogGzUkya1HkbY0yNb7Ryj0WF8/s640/phehgmatic+noah+at+museum.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Some exhibits were a bit more "hands-on" than I was comfortable with.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdxTWujIJuoX5tooRJJ1VhujAnw9RcDPCswuk-Anwf3tFfOdeNquD4gVSi_RnzxFb-nnwCbXbPmAcXYbPcU8bd9qjviW3yNKOZmkmqrzLy5Ov2S1QDboA07AoPRYuN-u-OrfVb40sSM4/s1600/Noah+eating+boogers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdxTWujIJuoX5tooRJJ1VhujAnw9RcDPCswuk-Anwf3tFfOdeNquD4gVSi_RnzxFb-nnwCbXbPmAcXYbPcU8bd9qjviW3yNKOZmkmqrzLy5Ov2S1QDboA07AoPRYuN-u-OrfVb40sSM4/s640/Noah+eating+boogers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But we had loads of fun none the less.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I think I'll keep the second set of photos on the fridge. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nausea always helps me say "No" to imprudent snacking.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Proverbs 24:5 </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The wise are mightier than the strong,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> and those with knowledge grow stronger and stronger.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Never stop learning.</div><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-80263988604787944022011-01-16T11:04:00.006-05:002011-01-16T11:28:57.625-05:00Hmm, What the heck?, How do ya?, and so forth...<div style="padding: 3px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/christinalusk/5360489910/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="photo sharing"><img alt="" height="640" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5285/5360489910_83ae831e24.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 2px; border-left-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 2px; border-right-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 2px; border-top-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 2px;" width="426" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/christinalusk/5360489910/">Redhead girl with orange flower in hair</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/christinalusk/">stinapie</a>.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">You'd laugh if you could see me trying to figure out what surely is a simple task... upload photos from Flickr to this blog... you know, as many as I want... where I want... to make something beautiful and interesting for you like my supremely talented and gorgeous dear friend over at <a href="http://tabithablue.blogspot.com/">FreshMommy</a>. Until I succeed, enjoy this completely random photo taken from my Flickr account and mysteriously inserted into my blog. I love you Makenzie! (beautiful creature pictured at left).</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Um... spiritual lesson and interesting story? I implore you to accept my humble IOU.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">And yes, FreshMommy, that was a plea for help:) Love you.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">TEO Me.</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-11723556844397048942011-01-13T15:48:00.000-05:002011-01-13T15:48:19.170-05:00The musician<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkEW-TCLTRzZVf0Fm7-FqSjCkVdD5mAdIg8lnQ5ece4Z40kilKIqtWaa5SUiVeZo7gmPmRy-cK8O7oDC6A-6IeORCoPaSIs2tTjg-FoUtyytvt4N0-siEhdNPMo9k4GMHUycNRtz4Wrg/s1600/violin+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkEW-TCLTRzZVf0Fm7-FqSjCkVdD5mAdIg8lnQ5ece4Z40kilKIqtWaa5SUiVeZo7gmPmRy-cK8O7oDC6A-6IeORCoPaSIs2tTjg-FoUtyytvt4N0-siEhdNPMo9k4GMHUycNRtz4Wrg/s640/violin+collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A picture is worth a thousand words... and I have two. This is my longest blog entry to date :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Make the best of today. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Christina</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-71646930825235521882011-01-05T20:01:00.007-05:002012-10-20T22:56:37.719-04:00New Year, New Season...new season of Lu's favorite show that is. Top o' the evening everyone. I truly hope you all had a wonderful time bringing in the New Year. We spent it rolling with laughter while watching a couple of episodes of "I Love Lucy" as requested by a lovely blonde who bears the same name.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-USH7nGTLs_yFEagV_HnzUyGGzZ-RcGnwP3ZxwRxoTEg9Rr7V5e9iDIbV7IlZnceAnQbtT8HidqgoqsJtHik_ivAA2prAWXKhIbE-wejChIrP9u3psuGFAB6ied9Iv-xMlu8IOHJ67OM/s1600/Lucy+opens+I+love+Lucy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-USH7nGTLs_yFEagV_HnzUyGGzZ-RcGnwP3ZxwRxoTEg9Rr7V5e9iDIbV7IlZnceAnQbtT8HidqgoqsJtHik_ivAA2prAWXKhIbE-wejChIrP9u3psuGFAB6ied9Iv-xMlu8IOHJ67OM/s640/Lucy+opens+I+love+Lucy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We had intended to do the whole kiss and cheer bit, however, my cell phone alarm went unnoticed at midnight , completely drowned out in the delightful mix of my firstborn's gleeful squeals and Desi Arnaz's cuban outbursts. (Sometimes it's really funny to listen to Ricky fly off the handle when you understand what he's saying... often he's just babbling Spanish nonsense. - Now you know.) Noticing the clock read 12:07 as the credits (Note: Max Factor was the makeup artist for the show... just some useless trivia for a moment when you need to sound like you know something interesting. - You're welcome.) rolled down the screen, (Don't you just love when I insert stuff in parenthesis and you have to go back and start reading the original thought all over again?) Michael and I uttered a mild, "Oops, oh well", attempted to reach each other for a quick kiss, and discovered that after snuggling with sixty-six pounds of children on our laps for an hour, parts of our bodies were too asleep for that kiss to take place, and it just wasn't worth the effort in our state of exhaustion. (We generally have a nine-thirty bedtime... Don't scoff, we're still young on the outside.)</div>
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We happily tucked the tot's in for the night and thanked God for them, and the beautiful blank canvas of 2011 that will soon be adorned with new memories, relationships, and nations who have been made freshly aware of the Love of Christ.</div>
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Happy 2011!</div>
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I'd love to read about how YOU brought in the New Year. Let me know in a comment below.</div>
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Much love,</div>
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Christina</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-7888654063367404912010-12-24T10:42:00.008-05:002010-12-24T11:16:05.153-05:00Linus or Facebook? You decide.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13px; white-space: pre;"> </span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/sghwe4TYY18?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13px; white-space: pre;">Linus, you've got competition. Make it good.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Feel free to send these wonderful Christmas adaptations to others. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Click the envelope icon below.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Once again,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Merry Christmas.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-68885121035226519962010-12-23T17:45:00.011-05:002010-12-24T11:42:33.940-05:00Wrapping up a photo shoot...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4Z9uateHxAkYr5Y_7K4dBq1YXMqNCjM1SrX0EIe9l15MszWzrrGXh4qj6cGdxG4mmEKvFHn8YPtMU536hyphenhyphenzA4ZdEkipcZFlsitGGQT1isdg6uN2GrXTzsc4PYYqHcn5QK7N5SH36Z4Q/s1600/IMG_7080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4Z9uateHxAkYr5Y_7K4dBq1YXMqNCjM1SrX0EIe9l15MszWzrrGXh4qj6cGdxG4mmEKvFHn8YPtMU536hyphenhyphenzA4ZdEkipcZFlsitGGQT1isdg6uN2GrXTzsc4PYYqHcn5QK7N5SH36Z4Q/s640/IMG_7080.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQgMBN2A1qy1TChVmK8SLoameduDcS3ahCKe0SGrWTfP6-cm0EbseEK_RSO9RQ-_zUNdNazPV-oFvIBIcGr68tvJH0POvvpMMeyuRJPSpsrJUckaB1-3UpIYuPs6Wgy-MHC54HGmYxlM/s1600/IMG_7230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQgMBN2A1qy1TChVmK8SLoameduDcS3ahCKe0SGrWTfP6-cm0EbseEK_RSO9RQ-_zUNdNazPV-oFvIBIcGr68tvJH0POvvpMMeyuRJPSpsrJUckaB1-3UpIYuPs6Wgy-MHC54HGmYxlM/s640/IMG_7230.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">...Oh yes, We'll be the envy of all our siblings this year. I recently picked up a dozen one-hour black and white photos I had planned to put in Christmas cards... However, since I am a much better at planning to send cards, than actually following through with it, I had some nice pictures (and cards) I wasn't sure what to do with... when suddenly, SHA-BAM, (some people imagine a lightbulb going on over their heads, I usually just hear the word "SHA-BAM") I had a most wonderful stroke of Martha. The results: a very special (and cheap!) packaging, Grandma's sure to flip for. Already finished wrapping? I was too! (Ok, "finished" may be a generous exaggeration, but I was getting closer.) It's never too late to add some extra "thinking of you" personalization. Now, what to do with these lovely cards? Any ideas?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Merrry </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">CH</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">RIST<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">mas!</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-77336599547344507782010-12-20T22:22:00.001-05:002010-12-20T22:26:34.668-05:00A Christmas Treat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxo20GLslMpb1Fpsag6Woih2gOP4URn4pS46RF45AievhmufiVelmPgYvQvvNvcLAs9P35XgkxsWgcJHV4vuw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Not sure why this turned out like a sub-titled Japanese flick, but please enjoy anyway.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Merry Christmas</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Lusks</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-68028225585744013102010-12-19T05:41:00.008-05:002011-12-09T12:07:02.272-05:00'Twas the week before Christmas...... and all through the house, not a creature was stirring... except for a bright eyed, bushy tailed, mother of three. (up at 3:11am and feeling strangely well rested... Cue song "I believe in miracles.") The stockings are laid on the floor with (some) care, until I figure out where to hang them, they shall remain there. The children are sleeping all snug in <i>my bed, </i>one with his feet placed against the other's head.<br />
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And so on and so forth...<br />
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What a gloriously beautiful morning! As I type this blog with steaming coffee nearby, and only the magical glow from the Christmas trees (yeah, I said trees... big new house... lovin' it.) illuminating the night, I am able to think clearly without interruption for what seems like the first time in weeks... Precious.<br />
This moment right here, is what I asked Santa for :) Well, maybe it wasn't Santa... I chose a Higher Source... and it was more like begging and pleading than a simple request. Friday night after I tucked in the bambinos, I dropped to my knees and admitted that I could use a little help. Finances, homeschooling, presents, ministry, photography, parties, housework, unpacking, snow shoveling, and keeping two kids alive by myself... Well, 'nuff said, right? I should've talked to God about it before, but I had a rather distorted view of prayer for a while. Don't get me wrong. I always pray. It's just that I was praying about "noble" things... like our ministry partners, and starving people with aids in Africa, and the stray three legged dog that I maybe shoulda' put in my car, taken home and named, "Stooge". That sort of thing. Anyway, I put my pride aside and asked The Big Man to help a sista' out. I also asked Him to return my five long-lost packages that, according to the USPS were "left on the porch." If only they had been left on <i><b>my </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">porch... Sigh.</span></i><br />
The next morning my Mom called me and jokingly said, "Christina, did you pray for help with the kids and your house or something last night? Because I guiltily tossed and turned all night thinking about how I should be over there helping you out today." Ha! My God is a riot I tell you. (If you don't know Jesus well, you need to get better acquainted with Him... He's totally pro-endorphins.) There was more work to be done than just us two could accomplish though... It's a good thing my dad, aunt, and grandma volunteered too!<br />
Sometime between Dad fixing the vacuum and television and Mom unboxing Lucy's room, there was a knock on the door...<br />
"Hi, you must be Christina Lusk. I wanted to get these to you sooner, sorry. They've been sitting in my front room for over a week." Yeppers! My packages. Thank you kind and honest new neighbor Melissa. I like you.<br />
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First Peter 5:7 is one of my ALL-TIME favorite promises from the Bible... It worked for me. I bet it'll work for you too!<br />
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"Cast ALL your cares upon The Lord. Because he cares for you."<br />
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See you at church this morning? <br />
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Me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPk4r42wJiMgP9EIOVP2HFnF4FdSB3MusJuQzUqn9656IpsE5aYk0lBo29jDzyhxj9APGVztDIWrijkOaImxxsxVKkfkXbS42cU3NLX_Mien22xoRyn4qfABVRXOY_qDMfh95OD4eeWBo/s1600/IMG_0333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPk4r42wJiMgP9EIOVP2HFnF4FdSB3MusJuQzUqn9656IpsE5aYk0lBo29jDzyhxj9APGVztDIWrijkOaImxxsxVKkfkXbS42cU3NLX_Mien22xoRyn4qfABVRXOY_qDMfh95OD4eeWBo/s640/IMG_0333.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">P.S. Ever wish you could share an Extraordinary Ordinary Me blog entry with someone, who, just doesn't do the blog scene? Click on the envelope below to send it to their email inbox.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Merry Christmas Everyone!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">P.P.S. - My apologies for all the wacky layout changes lately... I think I have found one that "suits me". For a while anyway. :)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-45690744362391213342010-12-10T23:52:00.003-05:002010-12-11T22:58:26.026-05:00I am not a bimbo. I am not a bimbo. I am not..."Well, nothing was the same when you were away..." - Captain Von Trapp (Sound of Music)<br />
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Perhaps I've never been the pinnacle of organization, but really, am I as utterly dippy as my actions as of late could lead me to believe? <br />
Leaving the keys in the outside door overnight? Ok, I can retrace my steps on that one pretty well. Arms loaded with groceries and a toddler, I approach the front door, drop a couple of bags near the entrance, take keys out of my mouth, unlock door, herd children into the living room, unzip their coats and go back to car for the rest of the bags... enter door again to discover two-year-old is missing. Frantically search upstairs, basement and storage ottoman (his favorite hideout) only to realize he escaped out the side door into the dark and vast snow covered yard. Barefoot target located and held hostage, I head back into house and close and lock both exits... Grandma knocks on front door next morn, holding my keys, going on about how me being in my twenties makes her feel better about her forgetfulness at seventy something...<br />
Alright, so that one is somewhat understandable. But, leaving the keys in the ignition, <b>WITH THE CAR RUNNING AND UNLOCKED</b> as I merrily drool my way through the aisles at Hobby Lobby, in FLINT for TWO HOURS!? Ashamedly, I was alone with no toddler to blame... That one made me question my sanity (<i>not to mention stand in awe of God's miraculous protection</i>). Searching for answers as to how such a thing could happen, I pondered the sleepless night spent battling the possessed smoke detector (<i>Note - Buy the cheapo alarm. You do </i><b><i>NOT</i></b><i> want the talking CO/smoke test-once-a-week-at-random-it's-better-because-it's-ridiculously-expensive detector - It's pure evil.</i>), and the stress that comes with moving into a new house, homeschooling, running a business, and single-handedly preparing for Christmas. But, let's face it, I've fried bigger fish before, with a respectively clear head even...<br />
What makes this time different? It's the grace factor. I don't know how to explain it. Previously, every time my husband and I have had to separate in order for the Gospel to be announced in the uttermost parts, there has been this strange sort of peace and easiness about his absence. Sure we all missed him, but there was an excitement of "roughing it" by ourselves. I call that peace, "the grace factor"<br />
Well folks, the exhilaration is gone, and I want my husband back. Is the sacrifice worth it? Without a glimmer of a doubt, YES. I'd do this for five years if I knew people were getting to hear about Jesus because of it. But, what I really feel, is that, God is moving us in a new and wonderful direction, to a place where we can travel together, as a family, making an even greater impact on the world. There's a stirring in my heart, distracting me at all times, causing me to... leave keys in the ignition, and place dirty socks in the refrigerator and the milk on the washing machine, and all the unmentioned absent minded things that I'll discover later. It's there. It's constant. It's unmistakable, unshakable. He wants us to go as a family. No financial burden will stand in the way, no excuses. It's big, to have your family travel like that for the purpose of evangelism. I only know one other living human who has done it (besides us, on occasion). I say, "What the hey!" Pioneers make the way easier for others to follow in their footsteps, and I'm not only willing, I'm happy to do it. Future generation of evangelists, You're welcome! Christina and Michael Lusk love you!<br />
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Dream big,<br />
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Christina Not Nearly As Arrogant As I Probably Sound Lusk<br />
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P.S. This is the<a href="http://www.osborn.org/site/sections/1"> one other human</a> I was referring to. Thank you Dr. T.L. for your inspiration. We love you dearly.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJpeRn-eE1J6aBadI6peaII4LrdaMgF2X0VrpGu4Px-bu-20xsEMOYpAIYe1CAfEEYCBl_CiONOSNzODWNve-QFZ43oI8z3CXN85ulscY_oF7kK_gUxYe95OoAz7X_rIEhZKoLyfowXo/s1600/IMG_2263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJpeRn-eE1J6aBadI6peaII4LrdaMgF2X0VrpGu4Px-bu-20xsEMOYpAIYe1CAfEEYCBl_CiONOSNzODWNve-QFZ43oI8z3CXN85ulscY_oF7kK_gUxYe95OoAz7X_rIEhZKoLyfowXo/s320/IMG_2263.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-62622957117313549582010-12-04T23:35:00.004-05:002010-12-05T00:01:54.896-05:00Yes, I'm alive... Thanks for asking. "Christina, are you for real blogging today? Because, we totally thought you were in a foreign country or something,... in a coma." No, no, fair readers, I have been deliciously ambitious, that's all. In the last month, I have moved to a different city, begun homeschooling my daughter, and vice-versa when it comes to arithmetic. (Do any of you remember how to do long division?) And, for the moment, my husband is trekking the globe, bringing Joy to the masses. (That's not sarcasm folks. It's fo real, notice the capital J.) I love that man. (Check out his blog at http://michaellusk.blogspot.com)<br />
So anywho, I may not be able to post as often as days of yore, but you're in my thoughts... especially those of you who are retired and have houses that you can place anything you want where you want and it will be there until YOU move it... I think of you often...<br />
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Oh my goodness, I wish I could write what I had purposed to write! Just looked at the clock and I need to go to bed... so here's the gist of it until it can be better edited (you know my track record so don't hold your breath).<br />
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Holiday helpers....<br />
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Keep the Christ in Christmas this year. Kids especially, are trained (<i>by parents</i>, GASP and EGAD) to focus on toys and the 300 pound crisco consumer in the red suit this time of year. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE take this beautiful opportunity to help them learn about God's Perfect Gift He gave to mankind 2000 years ago. Here's a few healthy ways to help them keep the true Spirit of Christmas in the forefront of their hearts and minds.<br />
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1. Volunteer with your children at a local soup kitchen. (They'll be a lot more appreciative at the end of the day - believe me.)<br />
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2. Attend with your family every Sunday service at a church this month. The things they hear will give them a better understanding of Christ's birth and purpose for it. You'll hear the same things too and will have some great discussions!<br />
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3. I hesitate because I don't like negative feedback, but here goes...<br />
BE REAL about REAL, and BE REAL about NOT REAL... This engenders trust.<br />
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I never want to hear my kid say, "Yeah, my parents taught me the myth about the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. They told me the myth about Santa. And, they taught me the myth about Jesus Christ too."<br />
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Whew! For those of you who haven't just removed yourselves from my followers' list... (and even to those of you who did),<br />
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I love you. Have a very Merry Christmas! Until next time,<br />
<br />
Christina Blacklisted Lusk<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUaRYKI3Q0godvrpzsvPV4Ado0XP7Tb4lLUVtSfzVYzaJkwW6I18tmP8bTwLvCtsXSJQ7I8GKMQgDpWJXeicFl4XCijyFKA_QG-1WwuiFVT4wRtNzgiTNXJk4e83-0grOQut5RRDtOHQ/s1600/IMG_9916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUaRYKI3Q0godvrpzsvPV4Ado0XP7Tb4lLUVtSfzVYzaJkwW6I18tmP8bTwLvCtsXSJQ7I8GKMQgDpWJXeicFl4XCijyFKA_QG-1WwuiFVT4wRtNzgiTNXJk4e83-0grOQut5RRDtOHQ/s640/IMG_9916.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-27636695797822423652010-10-14T22:33:00.004-04:002010-10-14T22:49:26.850-04:00You couldn't hide it... even under a bushel.Ok, first things first, men, I apologize. This blog has momentarily taken a rather sharp turn into a DYI episode of "Martha". So, if you want to ditch me during football/hunting season, and check back when our new home excitement has died down a bit, feel free to do so, I bear no ill will towards you. <br />
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Everybody who's still on board, check out what my little rock star and I worked on this evening. Remember those lamps? (I know, I know, "<b><i>Again</i></b> with the lamps?")<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGFeoSa4op6EH0Qb0pQneqlPVLRrCAseCfAyG36hHYAytwssMXxrzXi-onQXgSYncVRpP0fGMHUaCHL8M-5ElxBFn7LlxGkVDtZQ8MBQnP8orSBy7HrfbZC4jGdtNydO5OG_U6_Ppu5Lc/s1600/Black_&_White_Collection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGFeoSa4op6EH0Qb0pQneqlPVLRrCAseCfAyG36hHYAytwssMXxrzXi-onQXgSYncVRpP0fGMHUaCHL8M-5ElxBFn7LlxGkVDtZQ8MBQnP8orSBy7HrfbZC4jGdtNydO5OG_U6_Ppu5Lc/s320/Black_&_White_Collection.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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These are the ones that we liked. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfVF1PQPnGza5faaGdidIi7ug8YlVG-1wydBaHjOL71ZT2KApwdxaAp14-8bCVCoh_FQ9eytZeVOlX4eTANhI5wBBzH9ZEik96GCGr5_XX734q1Plxz-yf6Th18Rnm6XYB7jl6_nnqT0/s1600/IMG_7599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfVF1PQPnGza5faaGdidIi7ug8YlVG-1wydBaHjOL71ZT2KApwdxaAp14-8bCVCoh_FQ9eytZeVOlX4eTANhI5wBBzH9ZEik96GCGr5_XX734q1Plxz-yf6Th18Rnm6XYB7jl6_nnqT0/s320/IMG_7599.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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These are the ones we bought at a thrift store. We were psyched and ready to refurbish....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFNYpAXaj8HEblm8EJ5VSkO8fIfrSUOii5HIDPs5zZWLd5SKFXTkS2nRj4P1DWidShmrj5vAwrnEBQPpBHpZcCr3snofBNvtDwtORHCGei2CwRN5JzHIskd89DfOFoZMz4o5T_zyAUqE/s1600/3814011107_4d21853ef5_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFNYpAXaj8HEblm8EJ5VSkO8fIfrSUOii5HIDPs5zZWLd5SKFXTkS2nRj4P1DWidShmrj5vAwrnEBQPpBHpZcCr3snofBNvtDwtORHCGei2CwRN5JzHIskd89DfOFoZMz4o5T_zyAUqE/s320/3814011107_4d21853ef5_z.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><br />
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But then, we discovered some "<a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/madteapartyfurniture">Mad Tea Party</a>" furniture, which we also adored.<br />
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So, we decided to combine the two styles. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> This is what we came up with. We don't have a lamp shade yet, but we are very happily hunting. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx2MCz4sjDwyIPzvawKsndDMXDvKhBW9v_-ShAEqhMSwPIKWse_31h4Eni3yGlPXcIDDLl003gD7ajpLxIUviAdDQziFbtnh9cYDAuRlFg1YwM2a3B1RrZQP89-zj4pjQaOWKbYDzfhps/s1600/IMG_7685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxwImSB7Z7X79TrycpvXJhj3_9zoLdEcYu0FdCUXp7KqOatsSVVIVUVADSumGrQ5ohEwHZ1uGn1uXYOpbQmgQPLLpU7tONrHrwYMRt9PEhhE4PpH56KV73-4oj63kl87S0Q7NzHC8EkI/s1600/lamps+refurbished.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxwImSB7Z7X79TrycpvXJhj3_9zoLdEcYu0FdCUXp7KqOatsSVVIVUVADSumGrQ5ohEwHZ1uGn1uXYOpbQmgQPLLpU7tONrHrwYMRt9PEhhE4PpH56KV73-4oj63kl87S0Q7NzHC8EkI/s640/lamps+refurbished.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <br />
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What do your kids love to do? Dive deeply into it with them. <br />
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You'll be their greatest hero... I promise.<br />
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The Extroardinary Ordinary,<br />
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MeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-87867064244493116772010-10-12T15:40:00.005-04:002010-10-12T23:23:30.474-04:00Attencion! : Quarte Tres Chique Pour Moins que 9 Euros!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm thinking fancy thoughts today - hence the title "en francais". I'm also thinking, "I hope no French speakers read that, 'cause, I'm pretty much just fakin' it." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today, I just couldn't hold out any longer. I satisfied my "treasure-hunting" itch. My daily "bedroom decor" discussions with Lulu have pushed us both into a state of ravenous obsession. (I'm finally discovering a side of her that ISN"T Michael.) We are going to rock out her new room like no room has ever been rocked (well, at least <i>cheaper </i>than any room has ever been rocked). As per her request, we are going with a black and white room, with teal ("Mom, you know that color that is in the yellow crayon box? It's called blue-green, I think, yeah, blue green.") accents. Here are some things I collected at a local thrift store.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNMYrUsYuG-jqqJZlBOFAxRwfXMGwRmOBd0tbY9Xjsl7ADa3wmOIJR-9SjWzKQxoB_euKHhLq7qpzo9CB0RMYpve37Q5FtYZjVqMt1txk7Cl4nlZzp61moDWcEW2Xi_RX6FjZ6pFmx3Q/s1600/IMG_7566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNMYrUsYuG-jqqJZlBOFAxRwfXMGwRmOBd0tbY9Xjsl7ADa3wmOIJR-9SjWzKQxoB_euKHhLq7qpzo9CB0RMYpve37Q5FtYZjVqMt1txk7Cl4nlZzp61moDWcEW2Xi_RX6FjZ6pFmx3Q/s640/IMG_7566.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I LOVE decorating with clothes. It sounds crazy, but a nail, a cute hanger, and the right outfit, can become a really cool statement piece.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDobGonDqKC2xsLBH48i-j7ND8fjv0qix9e37AJVbCrxtEAX1-p0WRtA3EbezEU-iWogTun52vaDR4rgp0evDZvgx6vrV0cX_bYUSO3eEqpvs5jHRSItDLpcXyjAkP6lJoR9XD79zFJrQ/s1600/IMG_7563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDobGonDqKC2xsLBH48i-j7ND8fjv0qix9e37AJVbCrxtEAX1-p0WRtA3EbezEU-iWogTun52vaDR4rgp0evDZvgx6vrV0cX_bYUSO3eEqpvs5jHRSItDLpcXyjAkP6lJoR9XD79zFJrQ/s640/IMG_7563.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg05sf_qiByGlBaJ1XX9y1YY36c8s-8oSt1Nk-eSjiJP4gSjcLpLz0QjZdn_f6B8jOpqbmwKsigAHqojnYXoZa8Wd8t-lyJQSdATWqajBNKOXxXNx3VlJ8Ea7QWWDkI3pMLeErxCiD0oQ/s1600/IMG_7564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg05sf_qiByGlBaJ1XX9y1YY36c8s-8oSt1Nk-eSjiJP4gSjcLpLz0QjZdn_f6B8jOpqbmwKsigAHqojnYXoZa8Wd8t-lyJQSdATWqajBNKOXxXNx3VlJ8Ea7QWWDkI3pMLeErxCiD0oQ/s640/IMG_7564.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Remember that photo of the lamps that inspired us so much? I found two that pleaded with me in the store. "Choose us! Choose us!", they cried. I exuberantly answered them - <i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">out loud</span></b></i>. I wish I could stop talking to inanimate objects in public. I know I look like a lunatic. (Do lamps beckon to other people too? <i>Maybe I am slightly mad ...</i>)</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEP_16x124ldxR9yysa0zOKi-mc1BHV11SvqStfpF1I6kscSlMl-ltpEROdi6-AlRVCMV5aLyYhSp9-AJZPVn2Yvtu3usksEFMniE4ITIz5Juxhcp7AhsYBsp1tCkw-ZhPdAxbPIwrD0/s1600/Lamps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEP_16x124ldxR9yysa0zOKi-mc1BHV11SvqStfpF1I6kscSlMl-ltpEROdi6-AlRVCMV5aLyYhSp9-AJZPVn2Yvtu3usksEFMniE4ITIz5Juxhcp7AhsYBsp1tCkw-ZhPdAxbPIwrD0/s640/Lamps.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Pair the new treasures with these nifty things we already had,<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMn4wJNgE6-UbVXjEJDUwsy4FItjZpg28a13uqP0choXRTNHHj-WkTTdnLDqckTGb-FgUpJne370Qbeh7ktLC4aBr5H28rWg59Ej7uA7r2oPIQaAhcHOrarJUwQkcVPtcGxt8wc5MqvGE/s1600/Grouped+objects.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMn4wJNgE6-UbVXjEJDUwsy4FItjZpg28a13uqP0choXRTNHHj-WkTTdnLDqckTGb-FgUpJne370Qbeh7ktLC4aBr5H28rWg59Ej7uA7r2oPIQaAhcHOrarJUwQkcVPtcGxt8wc5MqvGE/s640/Grouped+objects.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and we have the beginnings of a totally "Lucy" living space.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And, dun dun dun! (that was suspense music) to stay true to the purpose of this blog, I must tell you why things like this inspire my daughter and I. You see, we have been given the "<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+2%3A16&version=NIV">mind of Christ</a>". We see beauty and possibility in things that some might consider junk. Christ sees immeasurable beauty in <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">you</span></b>, regardless how you may be treated by others, or how you view yourself even. If you give yourself completely over to Him, he'll shine you right up. And when all the dust and gook is removed, you'll recognize yourself as the treasure He saw all along. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A tout a l' heure!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Christina Lusk</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-86477589943184775142010-10-08T11:33:00.005-04:002010-10-08T11:50:21.508-04:00My seven year old teenager...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSI2SOsdwyIHBHjoGIeJGJRkxN8apj8SkfXdwTrb-IE2IJSud_Od5-2ujPSPKUmFCAz0DbGcYnSyZZzeOZHUpHt7mX0u41IGmGBtnJnI7lg3lMhmVivCL6oSr_IWCTfISJGe64eCSdGZw/s1600/IMG_7206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSI2SOsdwyIHBHjoGIeJGJRkxN8apj8SkfXdwTrb-IE2IJSud_Od5-2ujPSPKUmFCAz0DbGcYnSyZZzeOZHUpHt7mX0u41IGmGBtnJnI7lg3lMhmVivCL6oSr_IWCTfISJGe64eCSdGZw/s320/IMG_7206.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She begged for this topiary everytime we visited Bed Bath & Beyond.<br />
Eventually, we bought it. But we went 50/50 for it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Oi vey... My fairy princess reads words like, symbolic, and phenomenon. But that's not all, I have been recently been informed that my second grader would like a complete bedroom remodel upon moving into our new house. Request number one: No more pink. Boy, talk about being blindsided. Where did this come from? Only two years ago I took her to the store to pick out her bedding and paint colors. Results: Ballerina sheets and cotton candy wall color. Petition #2: Black and white please... with smidges of teal. #3: An office space? Really? Are you certain you're seven? Um, sure, Ok.</span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaeGZqQRAF_r6T-y3J5Ups5-erEY1BYdI8JLddCUzcyjihFPLvZWjfW7wZsSZ2UEdoEWeChUhyBkFwsgb40Wz_-I25jqCimTo3rrzc1-SrorztpWNJdxoRLuRKCxLNBfY63Su6tFHiBPQ/s1600/IMG_7216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaeGZqQRAF_r6T-y3J5Ups5-erEY1BYdI8JLddCUzcyjihFPLvZWjfW7wZsSZ2UEdoEWeChUhyBkFwsgb40Wz_-I25jqCimTo3rrzc1-SrorztpWNJdxoRLuRKCxLNBfY63Su6tFHiBPQ/s400/IMG_7216.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found this bear at Goodwill, repainted it, and gave it to her for Christmas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGzrdN7mXrNqFePWRNv6dZ53GaxVYAFXsNAmsLYWXs78KmNadCGD0synZ1iJzcXomuE80zwvd3Aj-HoSynU66uD2l4gyRTLaA4wN6PKrHJFFa0Ova_NgW3CctIYQsW3IUkULVzTAKrFE/s1600/IMG_7221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGzrdN7mXrNqFePWRNv6dZ53GaxVYAFXsNAmsLYWXs78KmNadCGD0synZ1iJzcXomuE80zwvd3Aj-HoSynU66uD2l4gyRTLaA4wN6PKrHJFFa0Ova_NgW3CctIYQsW3IUkULVzTAKrFE/s400/IMG_7221.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She made the painting in the frame in the background..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It took some some hidden tears to come to grips with the fact that my little girl is evolving into a bonafide young woman, and sooo quickly, but once I leveled with myself... She and I dove into home improvement mode. Here are some things that are inspiring us this time around...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Hzawu5OQkmUZecjvjvUQuhtD8lA2R9mVcU1G3horkhmMeMuyXMg-WwbgmxOEsn8esEjquBCqJYLBjgK7qY1D1M8UVvDctxFRiD9RkiAvIVbaNxZisczfcWJiw4av-_Nm0ZnUWF_Vars/s1600/img_4459_1208203198_865838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Hzawu5OQkmUZecjvjvUQuhtD8lA2R9mVcU1G3horkhmMeMuyXMg-WwbgmxOEsn8esEjquBCqJYLBjgK7qY1D1M8UVvDctxFRiD9RkiAvIVbaNxZisczfcWJiw4av-_Nm0ZnUWF_Vars/s400/img_4459_1208203198_865838.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOVE THIS - Lu's getting one awesome ceiling -minus the $4,000 chandelier. Sorry, babe, maybe next time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRpQezVGH6T_E98YMdIVjFtIFhD1I4w9K_HhfrJTuMZVWG_qbeywe5ngsPs7_ulEJCXSv-Ek-Sfuj37qZvv1G5EhvlJQj1NMrxfV_J_vugJIUhvGqaN-EfqbAGr87irlQJXTJcO9WtIAo/s1600/cabmain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRpQezVGH6T_E98YMdIVjFtIFhD1I4w9K_HhfrJTuMZVWG_qbeywe5ngsPs7_ulEJCXSv-Ek-Sfuj37qZvv1G5EhvlJQj1NMrxfV_J_vugJIUhvGqaN-EfqbAGr87irlQJXTJcO9WtIAo/s400/cabmain.jpg" width="327" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For "the office". Crazy. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVATtxF1Dw6awSkyfm-4YR3UEqAogtbNvAXQgJ0lbseA1z1Mv1Wwp3gzksauV0xPdg270Djr36rHMoDdpRb3PEvBsWsf5ephkhZpbA23gjq9VudovMNDz0VQ2KAdE5K3yZRIVZEYtWM0/s1600/Black_&_White_Collection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVATtxF1Dw6awSkyfm-4YR3UEqAogtbNvAXQgJ0lbseA1z1Mv1Wwp3gzksauV0xPdg270Djr36rHMoDdpRb3PEvBsWsf5ephkhZpbA23gjq9VudovMNDz0VQ2KAdE5K3yZRIVZEYtWM0/s400/Black_&_White_Collection.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is going to be a fun art project for sure!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQZDHSN3JaewFIaNwV9_8hsRj9wTgI82FBu_1oNEltihQ7PFm4t2DXCTW0N_hWpBOS7nkvfSjmYydiDsX1_HPoc_RfiT_tg5Sd6Hgf5cwjjaG7A-w5uJeogKoYR5Mqo1IWeslTvS-sSI/s1600/teal+chair.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQZDHSN3JaewFIaNwV9_8hsRj9wTgI82FBu_1oNEltihQ7PFm4t2DXCTW0N_hWpBOS7nkvfSjmYydiDsX1_HPoc_RfiT_tg5Sd6Hgf5cwjjaG7A-w5uJeogKoYR5Mqo1IWeslTvS-sSI/s200/teal+chair.jpeg" width="151" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hmm, maybe teal bedding? Or her desk chair? </td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvdnBoVJ7_UlS68hLj7fc6Po2WoSsm9dmox9EdXqG139OJZh5AvTv_kHbiaaaqSAT_WH3RbORECtVjYcwnd_g1IWdX92JPatVPMmuqnF7TGWT9oOafMflR403Kt7nzHOOBKIGlucpsM8/s1600/IMG_7056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvdnBoVJ7_UlS68hLj7fc6Po2WoSsm9dmox9EdXqG139OJZh5AvTv_kHbiaaaqSAT_WH3RbORECtVjYcwnd_g1IWdX92JPatVPMmuqnF7TGWT9oOafMflR403Kt7nzHOOBKIGlucpsM8/s320/IMG_7056.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>I love you, Lucy. I am looking forward to our upcoming adventures. You are a priceless treasure. Thanks for being so thoughtful, generous, and fearless. Sometimes, I think I need to be more like you. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UVj-C-uKFGi_rLW25OYb2pXuzdA6l42bhJZDnNCowEqk7XhQM_hgABt6o-_fqU7lJdsKmSoYC7gyV4ENHfJ3-fu5abAf8jYCAprXyfw8tKMq3r4ptq_zNxpN1cuwOZfyme-khbwWeRo/s1600/IMG_7277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UVj-C-uKFGi_rLW25OYb2pXuzdA6l42bhJZDnNCowEqk7XhQM_hgABt6o-_fqU7lJdsKmSoYC7gyV4ENHfJ3-fu5abAf8jYCAprXyfw8tKMq3r4ptq_zNxpN1cuwOZfyme-khbwWeRo/s400/IMG_7277.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notes like this, help me feel like we're doing a decent job. Thankfully, we find them quite frequently. Real ego boosters in times of need. <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"></span><br />
<h2 id="passage_heading" style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">Proverbs 22:6 </h2><div class="result-text-style-normal" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px;"><b> </b></span></span>Train <sup class="footnote" style="font-size: 0.75em; line-height: 0.5em;" value="[<a href="#fen-NIV-17022a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]">[<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+22%3A6&version=NIV#fen-NIV-17022a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</sup> a child in the way he should go,<br />
and when he is old he will not turn from it.<br />
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<div class="footnotes"><b><br />
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</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-45761782851732676932010-10-06T14:03:00.000-04:002010-10-06T14:03:54.507-04:00Wordless Wednesday - Story Time.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"When reading to friends, you mustn't forget to show them the pictures."<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTG2TpCKYtGDycOjX4QwGHAXx8GAU-8OlkZlsil9Kj4dCJYjG-xW7QT_zn0RExOOkIYAj_1HSUigwCm0iIybrR84tAa65EAfEClkrLRhNF9O1ENPo5ODuWz_CL-6OdgAFxVGjIHUGz6I/s1600/IMG_7119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTG2TpCKYtGDycOjX4QwGHAXx8GAU-8OlkZlsil9Kj4dCJYjG-xW7QT_zn0RExOOkIYAj_1HSUigwCm0iIybrR84tAa65EAfEClkrLRhNF9O1ENPo5ODuWz_CL-6OdgAFxVGjIHUGz6I/s400/IMG_7119.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOWFWxfZjoBEAhfqXknUsbh7Yh0cadypLMvgxjn4iVHORKDY2i_uomrXFh4qIwmn2QRqe7a7WfGvTkpB191gNqhYOWVcb5yEDjD9TfYcQUxm07gDl-0tTOe50CeVRCyuN7ps0CJJrpOU/s1600/Noah+book+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOWFWxfZjoBEAhfqXknUsbh7Yh0cadypLMvgxjn4iVHORKDY2i_uomrXFh4qIwmn2QRqe7a7WfGvTkpB191gNqhYOWVcb5yEDjD9TfYcQUxm07gDl-0tTOe50CeVRCyuN7ps0CJJrpOU/s640/Noah+book+collage.jpg" width="355" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><h2 id="passage_heading" style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">Matthew 7:12 (Amplified Bible)</h2><div class="result-text-style-normal" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-AMP-23329" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">12</sup>So then, whatever you desire that others would do to and for you, even so do also to and for them, for this is (sums up) the Law and the Prophets.<br />
<br />
Have a nice day!<br />
</div></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-92052253487117942732010-10-01T23:48:00.001-04:002010-10-01T23:51:41.592-04:00Daydream believer and a homecoming scene...To save you the immense effort of clicking a tab, I am going to summarize yesterday's entry. We found a house. We LOVED it. We placed a bid, so did many other people. We gave God liberty to intervene on our behalf. That pretty much brings us up to the present. <br />
<br />
We got "the call". It was a call of congratulations. We (the right reverend and myself) leaped onto the ottoman at the same time and jumped up and down on it like a couple of screamy school girls. (I changed my password on this account, Michael, so don't waste your time trying to delete that.) And just because you're all (as in the five or so of you who will probably read this sometime before next year) so interested in what it looks like, I bummed some photos of my new dwelling offline just before the listing post was removed from the internet.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjma70zgSxRwrRx_bteaJD_OuCwywpwZejzGCEvKzA8RykPE4HEB0eUZSUy6z-jz2NaTNivBiYdTFgS2KJC5gbw_kl6__IYzYoWbPxZPCMbUreHsretW54eg-2DoGf3g-Gqjdqx7LGcAi4/s1600/9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjma70zgSxRwrRx_bteaJD_OuCwywpwZejzGCEvKzA8RykPE4HEB0eUZSUy6z-jz2NaTNivBiYdTFgS2KJC5gbw_kl6__IYzYoWbPxZPCMbUreHsretW54eg-2DoGf3g-Gqjdqx7LGcAi4/s320/9.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my staircase. (giggle, giggle... I have a staircase!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzK6IMMwGbXGzVZs5ZLBnnmYU7dBfdd43xNzrQrjdDjOK831lE9sQPx6mCJ8hScM2gGKC_kmfYBKM8CFkS7TQT4zTl4_lzy-VnABgMmn7IqW1U2o-qhsbGkIyBppo2G50_GPh8RbQhVU/s1600/4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzK6IMMwGbXGzVZs5ZLBnnmYU7dBfdd43xNzrQrjdDjOK831lE9sQPx6mCJ8hScM2gGKC_kmfYBKM8CFkS7TQT4zTl4_lzy-VnABgMmn7IqW1U2o-qhsbGkIyBppo2G50_GPh8RbQhVU/s320/4.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living room - (Notice the French entry doors!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomXaCPQyWuYKoHmZbm8ZkiBFM20ZfioUECkMaBfbHZJHolt1smWbo3SyWF9h3cxz3QktkzizV8uCXQpdPN9octLMhMWOCmOdtiwTzYTii0NmPCbYDjWE5SPRg9kWhc5Ff0ImmubWfjng/s1600/2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomXaCPQyWuYKoHmZbm8ZkiBFM20ZfioUECkMaBfbHZJHolt1smWbo3SyWF9h3cxz3QktkzizV8uCXQpdPN9octLMhMWOCmOdtiwTzYTii0NmPCbYDjWE5SPRg9kWhc5Ff0ImmubWfjng/s320/2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two car garage, full basement, master suite, green shutters... </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhp2owSBOouj9MJ9rZhPOzuYaqKS-Bh1KhQjObz4QWvUX4abKtanjvmIEk62IE9RS7jYKpN8LZqHHWPLSWGrJGMbJjFSxf-opSOJPXOZXxxCMrUv5xaRy_HnSji0vFUN4grHpPCD6HycQ/s1600/8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhp2owSBOouj9MJ9rZhPOzuYaqKS-Bh1KhQjObz4QWvUX4abKtanjvmIEk62IE9RS7jYKpN8LZqHHWPLSWGrJGMbJjFSxf-opSOJPXOZXxxCMrUv5xaRy_HnSji0vFUN4grHpPCD6HycQ/s320/8.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfALItO10AaX9bn-L-yZeeQ_cXXQSMagJWLGzXuNW6hWjKuHZhPPdWu5f6OjR2fal8nMaapVHeo9muZaAZSxwZCrcZVc5BU14scQgak-kd0iCQF5-IfjuvrD_brwhOjJImUxNUib86Q0/s1600/11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfALItO10AaX9bn-L-yZeeQ_cXXQSMagJWLGzXuNW6hWjKuHZhPPdWu5f6OjR2fal8nMaapVHeo9muZaAZSxwZCrcZVc5BU14scQgak-kd0iCQF5-IfjuvrD_brwhOjJImUxNUib86Q0/s320/11.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To the left of the upstairs window is a Hall of closets leading to a huge master bath.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6rbyh-XStVd1htb0l8m97KxgCyS_3ILMi7CL2wiWswCq1jA6x9PaiVmnOTSIIfKUF3cJ2cI6FWhTtczcTZuI0ztEmQoFV1x8OJcTAHG2cLOq73TsdWBS8zR6D8835b27QFholPWdLSQ/s1600/5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6rbyh-XStVd1htb0l8m97KxgCyS_3ILMi7CL2wiWswCq1jA6x9PaiVmnOTSIIfKUF3cJ2cI6FWhTtczcTZuI0ztEmQoFV1x8OJcTAHG2cLOq73TsdWBS8zR6D8835b27QFholPWdLSQ/s320/5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Of course, there are some things yet to do to make it 100% us. But, I think that's half the fun of getting a new house. Don't you?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">PS. Thank you, God. Your guidance, goodness, mercy, faithfulness, and peace are responsible for everything good in our lives, but right now, ESPECIALLY OUR HOUSE! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Also, please enjoy this llama.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFlx1pEr_ACmIgMZR-3zBLnIsbs1YvZLnB7GFvUXSD1eALOUlG2DLeowM0c_qkkKHbI067BvyclloMdmMQ0e-ujHumvOmjIGS3SO-mWRNj1FxYmkq6F28cN0i3SPUxoyjeRsB4HeimPI/s1600/IMG_5467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFlx1pEr_ACmIgMZR-3zBLnIsbs1YvZLnB7GFvUXSD1eALOUlG2DLeowM0c_qkkKHbI067BvyclloMdmMQ0e-ujHumvOmjIGS3SO-mWRNj1FxYmkq6F28cN0i3SPUxoyjeRsB4HeimPI/s400/IMG_5467.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-57340420640542675132010-09-30T13:31:00.008-04:002010-09-30T19:53:24.140-04:00House... louse, mouse, spouse... What to write, what to write? Hmm.... I have a terribly daunting task before me. I must weave my day and my thoughts into a journal entry that both amuses the reader, and communicates the heart of God, without sounding like just a buncha' hoo-hah. Can I do it? It's too late in the day to contract one of those "Boy, I need a day off", handy-dandy guest bloggers. So, without further ado, here is my greatest attempt:<br />
<br />
Monday evening, we ventured out once again, in search for "our" house. We have been looking at homes for what seems like an eternity. Up 'til now, none of the homes had fit the bill. It's not that they weren't lovely (Ok, a few of them were the opposite of lovely), but, Michael and I have very specific tastes, unfortunately they are not collectively specific. I, being the realistic one in this marriage, lean more towards the practical amenities, like, charm, French doors, green shutters, and a willow tree. He, however, also had a list of things he REALLY wanted in a home, mostly non-essentials, like non-leaky plumbing, and a newer roof...<br />
After blabing on and on to the Lord, about our wants and desires, sounding very much like children who are allowed to watch TV commercials in December, we were confident that God had a relatively complete idea of what were looking for in a house.<br />
And, back to Monday evening... We FOUND the house - spacious, lovely, green shutters and all! We had the pre-approval letter. We made an offer above what they were asking. Oh yeah, we sealed the deal. Except for the million phone calls the next day about how everybody and their mother had also placed a bid. My first reaction was like, "Step off, people. That's my crib." or, jack our offer up to something that may have jeopardized us financially. But, I was prompted by a voice inside me to instead, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm%2046:10&version=NIV">"Be still and know that He is God". </a><br />
We are supposed to have an answer about winning the bid by tomorrow evening. I am anxious for nothing... I am anxious for nothing... I am... Really, I am not freaking out about it. Am I madly in love with this place? Yes. Am a certain beyond a doubt that this is our house? No. But, I won't be disheartened if it doesn't work out, because I know if we don't get it, It is because my Dad has something even better up His sleeve. You see, He's never let me down. And it's just better to not freak out about stuff. See my posts titled, Don't get mad....<br />
<br />
Be still,<br />
<br />
Me<br />
<br />
PS. This wasn't my most humorous or coherent post, so I thought I'd make up for it with this picture of a duck.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDMQJkY2z0dqnVaroSfB6GGqlNvU5mBWZwXThAxcatmUcBh5BciesOM0B4jf6iP2pPTruCpWQu-DYQictf61n6jASMFQcVCC_Ljvyop64WKpo1oKjz142-KJqnrHR-vLmbHzMGwIosps/s1600/IMG_6146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDMQJkY2z0dqnVaroSfB6GGqlNvU5mBWZwXThAxcatmUcBh5BciesOM0B4jf6iP2pPTruCpWQu-DYQictf61n6jASMFQcVCC_Ljvyop64WKpo1oKjz142-KJqnrHR-vLmbHzMGwIosps/s320/IMG_6146.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2972485072157219017.post-62118044046452244042010-09-25T15:55:00.004-04:002011-04-19T10:30:05.008-04:00I say tomato...When it comes to painting, my arsenal of excuses of why I am too busy to do it right now, is rather infinite. I've needed to finish this spot in my living room for months now. And, although my kiddie-free moments are scarce, it seems like anytime I stumble upon them, I always think of something more important that needs to be done, like, applying Pledge to the underside of the table.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqj_nZOgwPkUO1l470xAL7_5fyMaWy4CYMMEdWC4Lw8NfhMUnixmJs3BOSe_7Ajq54j2PibdNVBacQD-9eNP1hyphenhyphenL7_Zj5UbBGMnoFCB2LT-3ZlGU3_STXkZ85uAk5WS7XSgMaGatjQBM4/s1600/IMG_6933.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqj_nZOgwPkUO1l470xAL7_5fyMaWy4CYMMEdWC4Lw8NfhMUnixmJs3BOSe_7Ajq54j2PibdNVBacQD-9eNP1hyphenhyphenL7_Zj5UbBGMnoFCB2LT-3ZlGU3_STXkZ85uAk5WS7XSgMaGatjQBM4/s320/IMG_6933.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anyway, I needed to complete today's blog entry, so, that's a pretty decent reason to (once again) momentarily put off the painting, right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Fear not, this entry isn't actually about my bemoaning application of liquid latex. It's about something completely different, my bemoaning Michigan climate change. No, just kidding. I actually enjoyed the cooler weather today. It gave me a wonderful occasion to dress my kid like this.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgsAkT4-yqpH5SK6KmF67IAVFVNtrZNUJeXB4dChoxPPC2LSyK1zXy1_maOcLhe_Yfq6b40N4UQYPUKjIHIvf0IKU8Rfhw7nhmyc6kMwHfls9rAtVSTDYfhNYxsX3pYKGPaymZ9vpsZo/s1600/IMG_6529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgsAkT4-yqpH5SK6KmF67IAVFVNtrZNUJeXB4dChoxPPC2LSyK1zXy1_maOcLhe_Yfq6b40N4UQYPUKjIHIvf0IKU8Rfhw7nhmyc6kMwHfls9rAtVSTDYfhNYxsX3pYKGPaymZ9vpsZo/s320/IMG_6529.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This little heart-melter really needed to have his picture taken at the apple orchard. But, Grandma G. was en route to take him away for the weekend (so I could paint). (Grandma L. escorted the other blondie that resides here, to Mackinac Island. Lucky Lu.) So, I did the next best thing, I took him (kinda-sorta without permission, while she was at work) to the neighbor's tomato patch. I was sure she wouldn't mind if the 'lil guy helped himself a couple of "maters".<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvJ5rnV3h6bVvzyfDw1LtTTWRZqw_5HjyLSIBz-y67xZHuiSUYIjYNmb-rv_XXwxMn1U6mKCXDd6uT414HbQr-jD4Ol6TJSOVHc_EmnSIiLdXrFkSUN89hEvBnQI4urD-k5CKKnZ6iEU/s1600/noah+with+tomatoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvJ5rnV3h6bVvzyfDw1LtTTWRZqw_5HjyLSIBz-y67xZHuiSUYIjYNmb-rv_XXwxMn1U6mKCXDd6uT414HbQr-jD4Ol6TJSOVHc_EmnSIiLdXrFkSUN89hEvBnQI4urD-k5CKKnZ6iEU/s320/noah+with+tomatoes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And, picking tomatoes must've looked like fun, because some kids on our block (upon receiving permission from Yours Truly, who, was already stealing and trespassing) swarmed the plants like seagulls on an open package of Doritos. I promise I never meant for them to pluck EVERY SINGLE TOMATO. It just sorta' happened. It happened fast. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> So, the owner of the naked vines sometimes reads this blog when she gets home from work (just about now), and I'd just like to say... Um, Hi, Sandy.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Also, before true confession hour is over, Noah, may have picked a flower from your garden...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkmW3jNWOl11NLq8dOX1WhesWyoY_ZxAT0ROwnOUqf1uNUNk7_yLwDeWt4xrIDNfB03vwh0fc6SK6vsCsDNC2AccMzTx1c-sbuoaTgjVx3_AN0enlKX4iu_BLC8_nOJtliqvtel4qb90/s1600/IMG_6889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkmW3jNWOl11NLq8dOX1WhesWyoY_ZxAT0ROwnOUqf1uNUNk7_yLwDeWt4xrIDNfB03vwh0fc6SK6vsCsDNC2AccMzTx1c-sbuoaTgjVx3_AN0enlKX4iu_BLC8_nOJtliqvtel4qb90/s400/IMG_6889.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">or two.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bSQvM0fA3Hm9pKjNxRqcXwMuY0VoincnYccDb2tgK8XKNGamczFgtr6puIRl-dHrr5mkw88Ko6NRNrGBwGJC53Lj_Z4v3xd7pTUi_ulhElbP99boYKKRMH8BFmmSQgYI-KlQswdudPo/s1600/IMG_6866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bSQvM0fA3Hm9pKjNxRqcXwMuY0VoincnYccDb2tgK8XKNGamczFgtr6puIRl-dHrr5mkw88Ko6NRNrGBwGJC53Lj_Z4v3xd7pTUi_ulhElbP99boYKKRMH8BFmmSQgYI-KlQswdudPo/s320/IMG_6866.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But, we saved you a good amount of the tomatoes. You're gonna want to wash them though. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Some of them got licked. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNWSaL531F4V1sBOif414dv41R9YXv6U5G2XwAzMdLxtR2q8ZgqydTvECOvVQuhbKEMhAiDqVf1lPEkQeBgq-KzwbWXtJQYLrJuDDN25CFGyYJr7z7hTNdSlwMiLFqJT0TLaQn7noSTM/s1600/IMG_6784.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNWSaL531F4V1sBOif414dv41R9YXv6U5G2XwAzMdLxtR2q8ZgqydTvECOvVQuhbKEMhAiDqVf1lPEkQeBgq-KzwbWXtJQYLrJuDDN25CFGyYJr7z7hTNdSlwMiLFqJT0TLaQn7noSTM/s400/IMG_6784.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JKwyCBlcg0rh_l7CxlEJo1tI8WUfmO4X_zAGCDbA_6Idu3F3iKO2RZbOlgdkvsLYwtHgrSN8pbrDuiq1Nhi4twQWn0mxLCJC9E-VKkhk1Ga3Lj34JI_B-JuAwAZgZYLpgqdFAVUn1lc/s1600/IMG_6504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JKwyCBlcg0rh_l7CxlEJo1tI8WUfmO4X_zAGCDbA_6Idu3F3iKO2RZbOlgdkvsLYwtHgrSN8pbrDuiq1Nhi4twQWn0mxLCJC9E-VKkhk1Ga3Lj34JI_B-JuAwAZgZYLpgqdFAVUn1lc/s320/IMG_6504.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I told Noah if he gave you a wink, you would probably forgive us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">'Cause you're a lot like Jesus. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"></span></div><div class="result-text-style-normal" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.<br />
1 John 1:9</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And now, I must paint.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBu-TZUjI4RYn8N0mU8Xnd0zfdOBtI-6o3_bSgXr5aP9YFzac7ou0JHbAAO0nFvOutC4GhB_xChu8njEUNz6FBwqK_aZBYWJN4XCi_bZyH92EznCRhPChRlrfuxHTwKQj615OtmvAcBo/s1600/IMG_6942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBu-TZUjI4RYn8N0mU8Xnd0zfdOBtI-6o3_bSgXr5aP9YFzac7ou0JHbAAO0nFvOutC4GhB_xChu8njEUNz6FBwqK_aZBYWJN4XCi_bZyH92EznCRhPChRlrfuxHTwKQj615OtmvAcBo/s320/IMG_6942.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But, there are so many lovely new photos to edit...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Fall Everyone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Christina</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02012858646123167644noreply@blogger.com5