tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87945885447656125542024-02-07T14:48:02.725-08:00Little Prairie BabyCheyenne's Rambling JournalCheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-75648580275349065892017-08-02T08:12:00.001-07:002017-08-02T08:12:52.226-07:00Don't Fret - Nothing's ChangedThe sun peaked in through the bedroom window, but it wasn't stillness that flooded my senses. I woke up with a start listening to <i>donk, donk, donk </i>on our roof. It's an old roof with moss growing overtop the cedar shakes and those darned warblers were up on top of it doing heaven knows what. Dancing a tiny claw-footed jig? Smashing bird-like tennis balls into the roof? Taunting me and stressing me out, that's what. <br />
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My girlies are plumb worn out and I feel like those lovely little yellow birds right over their peacefully sleeping heads were soon going to pull out megaphones and shout, "Hey Girls! Get up and out of bed! Who needs any sleep?"<br />
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Naturally I raced into the yard in my horrible, dated nightgown, waving my arms and whisper yelling at the birds on top of the roof. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked back towards the neighbour's house and realize, "this is the thing people get committed for. They are going to call my husband and have me certified looney tune."<br />
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Luckily, the birds flew away and I snickered to myself while I poured my coffee, I knew that it pays to just be crazy. You can do what you want and folks don't bother you so much.<br />
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Allow me to highlight some of weirdest moments, in no particular order, from the past week.<br />
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-Enlist thunderstorm warnings and tornado watches - immediately grab camera, leave the children alone in the house and head outside. <i>Perfectly normal.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>-</i>Write List B, that includes reference to List A, to pack for trip to Saskabush. A body can never have too many lists (or pack enough Lysol wipes.)<br />
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-Realize it got bad when those Lysol wipes were packed lovingly beside a can of WD-40 in my big ol' satchel. A person can't be too prepared. I cover all the lists and am always prepared. A girl scout, really.<br />
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-Call up every possible disaster known to mankind to put the fear of Germs & The City into my kids, because folks, we are staying in a <i>mo-tel</i> (please imagine most hillbilly accent possible on Canadian prairie kids.) After said list is cited off, follow with a cheerful hearted, "but children! You can do anything and go anywhere you set your minds to!"<br />
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-Write list of weird moments to share with the world. Is this why blogging is awkward?<br />
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Wishing <i>you </i>the happiest of days today.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyOo46O3yZNgY1xH4f8bRZH-uq62lpJetdK9aZIyBh8UaE58EDMglPirmxSdEuNJ_zcRsCAVhp-uowLhq9B8_-5OK5osiJl2skTkXqZz2K7VMcjYlTa5R0s0tGx7rtWboQIGbPBtFKwrr/s1600/lineshack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyOo46O3yZNgY1xH4f8bRZH-uq62lpJetdK9aZIyBh8UaE58EDMglPirmxSdEuNJ_zcRsCAVhp-uowLhq9B8_-5OK5osiJl2skTkXqZz2K7VMcjYlTa5R0s0tGx7rtWboQIGbPBtFKwrr/s640/lineshack.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I've always been crazy, but it's kept me from going insane."<br />-WJ</td></tr>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-31927982132491741802017-07-23T11:51:00.001-07:002017-07-23T11:57:38.686-07:00Green Grass & Full Hearts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68fhLQk_czPh8z66IO0vNM5Y8LkdVg-Jm43Rz9thhKNPd6KqsMWYIdzz7goIemIjhs4lDScTwncw3R7JIIIp5G7v72A7VB9monrEz5cjBG9l7BhbCNCgj2Q-8rGzrPr-vLuFEw1dlq1mr/s1600/grass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68fhLQk_czPh8z66IO0vNM5Y8LkdVg-Jm43Rz9thhKNPd6KqsMWYIdzz7goIemIjhs4lDScTwncw3R7JIIIp5G7v72A7VB9monrEz5cjBG9l7BhbCNCgj2Q-8rGzrPr-vLuFEw1dlq1mr/s640/grass.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every time I climb the old wooden hill, I pause and take a peek out of the upstairs window - the country's green right now. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My kids see the ocean waves in the deep, bending hay when the prairie wind let's 'er blow. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hear their tiny mouths talk about the grass being belly deep on the eastern slopes of the Rockies and wonder will their kids know those same cow trails?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When they chase each other with foxtail, I remember doing the same with my sister.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Walking past the bromegrass, they naturally reach for the kernels and I can feel them in my hand now. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The crunch of the dried out prairie wool, the long grasses mowed down to make a yard, is as common to the kids as it was to me growing up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I see lawns in the big cities, sod laid uniformly, soft and sprinkler green, but I'll tell you - the grass seems mighty green on</span><i> this side </i><span style="font-size: large;">of the fence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope that the smell of native pasture fills up more than just their noses. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #bd081c; background-image: url(data:image/svg+xml; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 33px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 1; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 42px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #bd081c; background-image: url(data:image/svg+xml; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 33px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 1; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 42px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span>Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-87529488383620366042016-12-16T21:12:00.000-08:002017-05-13T19:29:56.722-07:00Our Prairie <span style="font-size: large;">I came into the world on the icy winter wind. A prairie blizzard - one you can't know unless you have lived here.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was prairie raised and think some of my strength isn't me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It comes from those prairie roots that are all knotted up with my own tangled faith. A faith that is bolstered by the streaks of colour across the big sky on the bleakest winter days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Strength comes from the special bond that ties families who live on these plains - our lives ebb and flow together to create a larger family. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That my own mother and father who have this soil on their hands, the chinook wind howling through their hair and love of the land in their heart raised me. I will raise my own here and they will know that this is our prairie.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Harsh climates grow deep roots.</span><br />
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-35847843986260523642014-12-30T13:41:00.001-08:002014-12-30T13:41:14.965-08:00The Prettiest Little Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKs0RTXq8qfGG8aj4t0Cl9b3f2y-2hPlxr6Kp_rWqE9JQsiw2j5_VkWGA1Xj8nxeN6m7Vyumv75BBSkj9A27to7VjtsSQBDuBViXaWTCyTDIUbBaF5RN6wWuUEyHIHIh7ZG5cZ73WJInY/s1600/DSC_1495e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKs0RTXq8qfGG8aj4t0Cl9b3f2y-2hPlxr6Kp_rWqE9JQsiw2j5_VkWGA1Xj8nxeN6m7Vyumv75BBSkj9A27to7VjtsSQBDuBViXaWTCyTDIUbBaF5RN6wWuUEyHIHIh7ZG5cZ73WJInY/s1600/DSC_1495e.jpg" height="374" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">While some people continue their Christmas festivities on Boxing Day, possibly in jammies relishing in the fact the family marathon is over, or braving the city streets to look for good deals - I like to vacuum behind the couch. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Every year I pull that beast out and give it a good vacuum, while cleaning up the big ol' mess that Christmas seemed to spew all over the house. Unfortunately, this year the biggest mess couldn't really be vacuumed, it was more in the air. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I do feel that I keep my expectations pretty low in the events department. We really try and not go overboard on all the "hoopla" that is Christmas.</span><span style="font-size: large;">While I know some love the traditions beforehand - the special cookies, an outing to shop for siblings in town, or heading to the bush to find a tree - I go out of my way to not have any of that set on the calendar. It has made things so much simpler. I don't feel myself losing my ever loving mind if someone got sick cookie weekend, or I'm just plain too tired to have a hot chocolate party. Anything exciting we end up doing is just a bonus. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This year we happened to be out in the <a href="http://littleprairiebaby.blogspot.ca/2012/08/cow-camp-in-mountains-where-grizzly.html">bush</a>, and since my decorating for the season is a bare minimum, it was on a whim I told the girls they could find a wee tree to put in their room. With the silence that the snow covered forestry can only offer, we trekked out not far from the cabin and chopped down a tree the size of my five year old. It all seemed rather magical and I knew it would be fun for the girls to make their own paper chains and any other doo-dads they wanted to put on the tree. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The magic ended when their daddy hauled the tree upstairs and plopped it in the old galvanized bucket full of rocks. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>"What is that smell?"</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>"Did something pee on that tree? Was it a bear? Did a bear pee on that tree?"</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>"Don't use potty talk!"</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>"Why does our room stink? The whole upstairs reeks! I didn't know Christmas trees stink. Do you think the one at Auntie's stink?"</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Unfortunately that tiny bit of green had travelled home in the trailer that had hauled calves two days prior. It laid in there over night and soaked up enough barnyard smell to be able to make you question those candles that say 'evergreen' scent on them. Is this what an evergreen smells like? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Note to self: Always clean out the trailer before hauling a little piece of Christmas cheer home in it. Tucking in the girls at night will become mighty trying if you don't. </span><br />
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-87660415619282245802014-11-04T07:57:00.002-08:002014-11-04T07:57:45.364-08:00Midweek Reads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRHIiHDWOyeMDWEXJVle5vOtmvGTlbCkHvdjwseRkabCj0kdhyGnOXKXaicbSSn-mIBnnwJKc0T5E-MA6znTvRhR_uTSoMX9AzbgjrpgeZQoq3fy61q9kHcapsM12dOllvLhB1VhKx365/s1600/DSC_1386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRHIiHDWOyeMDWEXJVle5vOtmvGTlbCkHvdjwseRkabCj0kdhyGnOXKXaicbSSn-mIBnnwJKc0T5E-MA6znTvRhR_uTSoMX9AzbgjrpgeZQoq3fy61q9kHcapsM12dOllvLhB1VhKx365/s1600/DSC_1386.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://ryantbell.com/2014/05/01/all-the-queens-cowboys/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">This man's</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> writing is as smooth as a good cup of coffee. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a href="http://1027kord.com/10-things-food-banks-need-but-wont-ask-for/?trackback=fbshare_mobile_top" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Great ideas</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> on what to drop in that big box in the grocery store. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Lovin' this veggie fixed like</span><a href="http://www.amateurgourmet.com/2008/11/the_best_brocco.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;"> this.</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'd like to see </span><a href="http://www.missionstonetile.com/products/Reclaimed-Barnwood-Tiles/lemay-4x4-reclaimed-wood-natural" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">these tiles</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> in real life. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sewing </span><a href="http://amazingmae.blogspot.ca/2009/06/road-trip-pillow-cases.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">these</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> for some little rotters. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Think </span><a href="http://organizedclutterqueen.blogspot.ca/2014/07/holiday-junk-re-purposed-rusty-spring.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">this</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> is cute as a button.</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxB7lPgj-GvXmdOH-OSErg2eSipsYPLhQsqn3_1coRY3dCFw9W-fpUha_3KnfCbmnn5XZP5kDM2nbNy-IjtZFgaYz181zx73WeW7rxzRxopZ_A6X8eHrqMJm-MXee1PzZiQmAhUuhRmzs/s1600/DSC_1410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxB7lPgj-GvXmdOH-OSErg2eSipsYPLhQsqn3_1coRY3dCFw9W-fpUha_3KnfCbmnn5XZP5kDM2nbNy-IjtZFgaYz181zx73WeW7rxzRxopZ_A6X8eHrqMJm-MXee1PzZiQmAhUuhRmzs/s1600/DSC_1410.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still marvel at the way <a href="http://littleprairiebaby.blogspot.ca/2014/02/managing-eastern-slopes-why-cattle-are.html" target="_blank">this post</a> continues to stir the pot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, it's your turn, friends. What gems have you found lately? </span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgMyXIIo1ee7nHfSaKeDhIR_4J2K9aXrcuCXxvOhC-3j8p_6sPuRFleCOj0loVpYxPPDG9G01SduuDCVZGz4HcqQhWrDPnKHJPdZ677tToqsr7vjwwsSGW5S2LJp_J9bGTJ4Lp6RTdIjjVE-qOasuJ9vTh15aFpXVBswt9hmUTQJ0qP5xk1Pz5sqKZKMg=" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img align="left" border="0" src="http://i386.photobucket.com/albums/oo310/shabbycreations2/ccopy.png~original" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a><br />
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2Fi386.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Foo310%2Fshabbycreations2%2Fccopy.png~original&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgMyXIIo1ee7nHfSaKeDhIR_4J2K9aXrcuCXxvOhC-3j8p_6sPuRFleCOj0loVpYxPPDG9G01SduuDCVZGz4HcqQhWrDPnKHJPdZ677tToqsr7vjwwsSGW5S2LJp_J9bGTJ4Lp6RTdIjjVE-qOasuJ9vTh15aFpXVBswt9hmUTQJ0qP5xk1Pz5sqKZKMg=" -->Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-53156026087622484212014-09-12T17:14:00.000-07:002014-09-12T17:14:15.772-07:00Keep On The Sunny Side<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnVwS434Lh6QXNG59bji4Yrl1KkCzx-GI3pNbfnpgL6WdGwkIejDHmTPPvHNTnyRKji2HxvgrrHKSSQTiYs7ZOuZPqRbdTdRWTgaS6UTjZC1SmsNKx0wE3JUdyARNemx9ypm7aCEp1ZW8/s1600/DSC_0958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnVwS434Lh6QXNG59bji4Yrl1KkCzx-GI3pNbfnpgL6WdGwkIejDHmTPPvHNTnyRKji2HxvgrrHKSSQTiYs7ZOuZPqRbdTdRWTgaS6UTjZC1SmsNKx0wE3JUdyARNemx9ypm7aCEp1ZW8/s1600/DSC_0958.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><em></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Keep on the sunny side, <br />Always on the sunny side</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Keep on the sunny side of life, </em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>It will help us ev-'ry day, </em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>it will brighten all the way,</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>If we keep on the sunny side of life.</em></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A.P. Carter</span></div>
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<img align="left" src="http://i386.photobucket.com/albums/oo310/shabbycreations2/ccopy.png~original" style="border: 0px currentColor;" />
Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-978663991897211482014-09-10T21:30:00.001-07:002014-09-10T21:53:15.120-07:00And It Snowed<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Four months and six days after the last time - it snowed. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But, who's counting? Right? </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju55zeudts6EYVQxKo7ZlyJuQPMOd5xOCGzFQqtW2iOi_N4yY-DuVGnQSl3NDPw0_HLyRQ_nHaSV3-HyEGvylB2WchGTEvQA_tLWPo4XlWvVcEYCxGo-SD49OibeP-xMggXRf_BmaO7NOh/s1600/DSC_1080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju55zeudts6EYVQxKo7ZlyJuQPMOd5xOCGzFQqtW2iOi_N4yY-DuVGnQSl3NDPw0_HLyRQ_nHaSV3-HyEGvylB2WchGTEvQA_tLWPo4XlWvVcEYCxGo-SD49OibeP-xMggXRf_BmaO7NOh/s1600/DSC_1080.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzDXdCC8-_Mc00DxkV19igVKuRBleNk2IIhC4yhf1Bog1FC0icGe1gtvf1ZoAvdQWFhr6t7cXgznL-SqQ7TTnVXyHE9_9HwUFExlaNe2pg9oI-5-zZf6GGxYOhduAEIwRx-YkS6J5xYqJ/s1600/DSC_1083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzDXdCC8-_Mc00DxkV19igVKuRBleNk2IIhC4yhf1Bog1FC0icGe1gtvf1ZoAvdQWFhr6t7cXgznL-SqQ7TTnVXyHE9_9HwUFExlaNe2pg9oI-5-zZf6GGxYOhduAEIwRx-YkS6J5xYqJ/s1600/DSC_1083.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHOqKsF_22IDqSTif807wjSWQdKBDSAvZ04wOWSKPo85AK837bzoCsOBM4QzVe1Hq9LcRfsdReUDzt8_4Klx-4P-4vwmaTJkq4a82RRi8RKfkJ6hHRHPG81bW98m8j9EnOrLbHCHWUX_E/s1600/DSC_1086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHOqKsF_22IDqSTif807wjSWQdKBDSAvZ04wOWSKPo85AK837bzoCsOBM4QzVe1Hq9LcRfsdReUDzt8_4Klx-4P-4vwmaTJkq4a82RRi8RKfkJ6hHRHPG81bW98m8j9EnOrLbHCHWUX_E/s1600/DSC_1086.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMA3a1qbyQmeZ8rbMkqAJxyLCqtmlopAUW-vPaC9d79TDOpDV-1EmYYOpUuwZXTLHEv8ZgbAAXDddWomP-CN7hj0u8Ke0Qr-iJwz6ENLNyWwuBbCfgDq4r6q1JaYwxeiH4rcRLg3nnKed/s1600/DSC_1090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMA3a1qbyQmeZ8rbMkqAJxyLCqtmlopAUW-vPaC9d79TDOpDV-1EmYYOpUuwZXTLHEv8ZgbAAXDddWomP-CN7hj0u8Ke0Qr-iJwz6ENLNyWwuBbCfgDq4r6q1JaYwxeiH4rcRLg3nnKed/s1600/DSC_1090.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">While the girls have spent a lot of time outside mucking around, Hoss sits inside and does this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </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;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQDKr3BYuHwQlAc3UFqOxL2SZdfElgtbP31k417VhqeCjYApYkIMeRuADu5ID-GqiKWppjveYwQPX-ihxjFOrjN5ZlH5x4eABymxZEvgbfj6lav5YUl7z-WtbKqtX6wdan_ej7m1V7jk_/s1600/DSC_1093.JPG" height="426" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This boy can eat. Period. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQDKr3BYuHwQlAc3UFqOxL2SZdfElgtbP31k417VhqeCjYApYkIMeRuADu5ID-GqiKWppjveYwQPX-ihxjFOrjN5ZlH5x4eABymxZEvgbfj6lav5YUl7z-WtbKqtX6wdan_ej7m1V7jk_/s1600/DSC_1093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </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;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQRTQqpgmTElUIwkdwID5aRXUnTaBd6VGNoWCUxfEd4q1Zw20UkoSRGAnXOyNzUWklG1RQ3RBvy2Uy_S_WEZkRg2rYBcu1yWGGT9NOJMrbNuAtjCufLbkJrezYPnI7kpiA9pKFUlrl-sTe/s1600/DSC_1094.JPG" height="426" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Who you makin' fun of?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQRTQqpgmTElUIwkdwID5aRXUnTaBd6VGNoWCUxfEd4q1Zw20UkoSRGAnXOyNzUWklG1RQ3RBvy2Uy_S_WEZkRg2rYBcu1yWGGT9NOJMrbNuAtjCufLbkJrezYPnI7kpiA9pKFUlrl-sTe/s1600/DSC_1094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Big Boy has life figured out and can pretty much run this show from his high chair. We all just work for him, anyway. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxv44MU5F7dzlp9trAwr2EVJGE4_-myYSOxOl0L9tV1fEMGtRgcAq_fuaDdZHtqKz3vM7bablTgKnIGeHUw13u2lXbjelE7LNvzZNqJ1YUFmJAXC95SpYLuOMMGqHDqsAN5JhJR9Gu8uoP/s1600/DSC_1110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxv44MU5F7dzlp9trAwr2EVJGE4_-myYSOxOl0L9tV1fEMGtRgcAq_fuaDdZHtqKz3vM7bablTgKnIGeHUw13u2lXbjelE7LNvzZNqJ1YUFmJAXC95SpYLuOMMGqHDqsAN5JhJR9Gu8uoP/s1600/DSC_1110.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </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;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-8EEpOHD3ENukGC_yP0OcAbWkk0zMSPDCNIIC7W0pGL_Bos3R-dV7-ksXNwmudggaENZ28axM1_I4q2_1cRW4vYr3udIA5LBLxRe7bS5oYJ2yXSkU0MuFMyN7wfKpw-ikMbDo4aKXJ76/s1600/DSC_1114.JPG" height="426" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the grey hue in all these photos? It's a color we know too well. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-8EEpOHD3ENukGC_yP0OcAbWkk0zMSPDCNIIC7W0pGL_Bos3R-dV7-ksXNwmudggaENZ28axM1_I4q2_1cRW4vYr3udIA5LBLxRe7bS5oYJ2yXSkU0MuFMyN7wfKpw-ikMbDo4aKXJ76/s1600/DSC_1114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After three days of snow, wet, and muck my girls have been singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs and I quietly weep into my coffee. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Truly though, Alberta is a fine place to live and our summer is quite lovely. It generally falls mid week - between a Monday and a Thursday.We love those three gentle days. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She ain't for the faint of heart.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<img align="left" src="http://i386.photobucket.com/albums/oo310/shabbycreations2/ccopy.png~original" style="border: 0px currentColor;" />
Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-19591816667285919922014-09-07T14:11:00.000-07:002014-09-07T20:43:24.480-07:00One of Our Last<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0O8YMn6O_tzd13c1JqQq_sEDK_na_UBjMwZbYjVfBQtaqYKHv6UQrS55VHqiNEUTeAcomvK6UsbAMaTyDmFXMkqGl6IUkyj4FqZ5jrfulZCc2BekOYrvC1LOi3ziD2mwKwWthbi3IeKFO/s1600/DSC_0919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0O8YMn6O_tzd13c1JqQq_sEDK_na_UBjMwZbYjVfBQtaqYKHv6UQrS55VHqiNEUTeAcomvK6UsbAMaTyDmFXMkqGl6IUkyj4FqZ5jrfulZCc2BekOYrvC1LOi3ziD2mwKwWthbi3IeKFO/s1600/DSC_0919.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">While the sunlight has enveloped that beautiful hue, combines are circling the fields, and apples are being processed, us northern folks are shakin' in our boots. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are big, fat flakes in the near forecast. While temperatures are warm now, we know what's coming. Bare legs today, possible snow boots this week. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You would think the earth is near extinction, though, as you hear bits of conversation around these parts. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Get outside and play! It's going to snow soon and you won't be able to ride your bike so easily!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Do you want to come over for a campfire? We should enjoy one of our last nice days."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"We went out to Sheerness to let the kids muck in the water, you know it's all going to be over soon."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, you goofs! Sure, it'll snow, but it will warm up again. Don't let Environment Canada's potty mouth bring you down. Enjoy what's here today. Get outside! Soak in the rays and don't let it get away.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vE4xT6BXlzfVWvR_YzA6BUIrX5glvf9o5zh7bCCwT3MWE6WVsK-xb8NhtikiEfG8oNHUJUMLQ0gfg0I3HmrSMufDLETubYmswUv29Q3a6sjc0-dWuhxcE21JbxmfbBiJkj3cMMESq4gY/s1600/DSC_0920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vE4xT6BXlzfVWvR_YzA6BUIrX5glvf9o5zh7bCCwT3MWE6WVsK-xb8NhtikiEfG8oNHUJUMLQ0gfg0I3HmrSMufDLETubYmswUv29Q3a6sjc0-dWuhxcE21JbxmfbBiJkj3cMMESq4gY/s1600/DSC_0920.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><br />
<img align="left" src="http://i386.photobucket.com/albums/oo310/shabbycreations2/ccopy.png~original" style="border: 0px currentColor;" />
Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-75516278004167630982014-09-05T13:45:00.001-07:002014-09-05T13:45:09.825-07:00Big Cloud Country<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0XVT5eIXwUlUg8ZLIx4H7c4lYiyVpqLfWOjNudIVvXruBTjmrfmJ2f3oE-Zx3RFXFRann97s-f4XYeC99QJR1wgjzVJKMnkSKlQHgZ_2FDuYKbjCFtrJxvk1fm_PeGWQfQJ2HNhBNG-B/s1600/DSC_1060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0XVT5eIXwUlUg8ZLIx4H7c4lYiyVpqLfWOjNudIVvXruBTjmrfmJ2f3oE-Zx3RFXFRann97s-f4XYeC99QJR1wgjzVJKMnkSKlQHgZ_2FDuYKbjCFtrJxvk1fm_PeGWQfQJ2HNhBNG-B/s1600/DSC_1060.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yoo hoo! I am <em>still</em> here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I bet you think I have great stories of the all the things I have been up to this summer. You know the typical blog stuff: do-it-yourself projects, tutorials, and recipes. A little bit of wow all typed up onto one page. Maybe even a post about a holly-day or two. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Alas, read on, Sisters. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have been busy doing perfectly normal things, like laying in the middle of a pasture taking photos of giant storm clouds rolling through. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do you find it at all odd, that I might run down the lane with a camera, in the wind and impending doom? No one nearby but my dear old hound dog? Do you see a hint of crazy in these photos? Remember, this is Alberta, we do like to talk weather here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I looked around while the smell of rain settled in my nose and thought about the bales out east that caught fire because of lightning striking out of the sky. I realized I was probably the tallest thing out in that prairie grass and thought it might be best if I hit the ground. No, these pictures weren't taken at a different angle for dramatic effect, they were taken with survival in mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you to those of you who sent a note my way to check in on me. I hope to be back to my irregular posting soon. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Miss you, sweet friends.</span> <br />
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-24677263635261270332014-04-01T12:02:00.002-07:002014-04-01T12:02:52.144-07:00Snow Burning in Rural Canada<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-90136070908374775242014-03-03T20:51:00.003-08:002014-03-03T20:51:23.907-08:00Miscellany Monday<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1.With it's mouth wide open and in a full roar, March appeared. Bonjour, my sweet kitten, I know you are supposed to leave like a lamb, but there are 31 days till that happens. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Temperatures dropped and pipes froze. Nearly minus fifty, or fifty million (at this point there is no difference) stung our faces and froze the goobers in our nose. While there is promise of warmer temperatures making a grand appearance this weekend, cold has settled deep in my bones and a balaclava is feeling rather fashionable as of late. Those of you south of the border, please package up your thoughts of seed orders and that thing they call the sunshine and send it in the mail - I'll put it under my pillow as a token of hope. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2.I am certain that in this weather, if all else fails, bake something with yeast. If you have little children, break off a hunk of that dough and let them make their own mini bun. This will forever in my mind be the best kind of fun for a kid. Just make no mistake in who is the owner of that small bun when it comes out of the oven, the last thing you want to do is eat something mucked around with for a half hour by a two year old. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3.I am smitten with <a href="http://dirtroadsab.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">this woman's blog</a>. She is a harvester of beauty and I feel like she captured pieces of my heart in her photos. Always remember the wonder in your own backyard. Drop by, toss a proverbial penny in her basket and say oui, allo. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4.I may or may not have ruffled feathers with <a href="http://littleprairiebaby.blogspot.ca/2014/02/managing-eastern-slopes-why-cattle-are.html" target="_blank">this post</a>. Ahem. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Things got a little crazy, but be sure it takes a lot to startle me these days - I live with a pack of badgers and herd cats on an hourly basis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am grateful for each and every single e-mail that has come my way.Thank you for reading, fine neighbours and strangers alike. I am always surprised (and at moments mildly embarrassed) by the people who stumble in to read these words that have been punched out while babies are asleep. I appreciate those that read and those that take the time to tell me who they are and where they come from. It makes this whole gig on earth enjoyable and interesting - understanding one another.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We won't always agree, but as one bright friend said, "some people just want to argue, but then there are those that will have heard your side of the story."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4.Sweet mamas in my boat, when your babes are up at five in the ay-em, write this on your forehead, next week is DAYLIGHT SAVINGS! Can I get a hip hop hooray?! Your children should theoretically sleep in later. Take this as your public service announcement to start keeping your children up an extra ten minutes each night and stretch those mini bosses night's out. We can do it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If we can't, you know where I live and I have extra dark roast coffee that I pretty much bathe in nowadays. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am sorry if you live in Saskatchewan or on a Hutterite colony. While I cling to the hope that my kids might sleep a tiny bit later this spring, I will be packing up and heading east in the fall. Maple Creek has always called my name. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">5.When I ask my four year old, "what should I tell people about Alberta?" She replied, "It's really nice. There are lots of nice animals, some bushes, crab-apple trees in the summer and they would like it here.<b> If they wanted to be friends, we could." </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And there you have it, my fine feathered friends, miscellany Monday is complete and I am cleaning up lego and wiping down light switches with Kirkland wipes. I hope you sleep peacefully tonight.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JC, we had double sun dogs tonight. I trucked out in the cold, with my glasses fogging up, to take a picture for you. :)</td></tr>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-18343410689116142182014-02-28T12:44:00.001-08:002014-02-28T12:44:26.047-08:00For a Sweet Friend - The Tiniest Horrors <h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0.25em 0px 0px; padding: 0px 0px 4px;">
****<i>This is being reposted from last year. It is for a friend who is waging a war right now in her home. </i></h3>
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<i style="line-height: 1.4em;">Friend, so many of us relate and can tell the story of using duct tape to tape our pants to our boots while cleaning out the grain bins. Don't worry, these days will come and go and somehow they will make a good story - it just might not be one you want to repeat. </i></h3>
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The Tiniest Horrors</h3>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes it's the tiny things in life that are our biggest nightmares. Things that make grown men turn as white as the snow covered prairies in the dead of winter and ladies full of maturity shriek like a two year old. Kids growing up amidst the wheat fields in cheerful, tidy old houses and worn trailers know of these nightmares and know how to watch for the signs of them. </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">At a young age, I remember opening the drawer in my Auntie's beautiful old farmhouse to my delight to see a plastic mouse - I thought that it was a great thing she kept toys in her kitchen. My Auntie was working hard to overcome her fear of mice and thought that by becoming so used to seeing this dreaded creature in her cutlery drawer, it might fill her with the strength to stay on the home place when, yes folks, a mouse was found in the house. </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">I suppose my Aunts' came by their fear of mice honestly. Engraved in my mind is my red headed Irish Grandma going after a tiny grey creature, with the strength of ten men, in the aged farmhouse with a straw broom in hand. Our Grandpa, a hulk of a man and hero in our eyes, perched atop his chair, face bleached white too full of fear to holler. Luckily in our house, our Dad took care of these lil' "problems" and when I heard a rustling in my closet one night, and came out to let my folks know, Dad emerged from the bedroom in a short time, after some thumping abounded, and let me know it was fine to go back to bed, it was only a "big moth."</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">We were carefully trained as children to take a peek in our boots before we'd pull them on to head outside, so strong are the memories of my mom's of pulling on her chore boots only for her foot to meet a wriggling mouse. I am not sure what it is that makes us shriek, holler, and claim them as some of the nastiest creatures to endure out here in the wild west. Those little field mice, out there destroying crops, carrying disease and seeming to pop out of nowhere like some sort of terrible Halloween prank make so many plumb near lose their minds. </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">So many of these stringy tailed creatures meet their fate nowadays in a bale buster, but in days gone by when everyone set out bedding with small square bales, a much more fearsome blow was found - not so much for the mouse, but for the one who came across them. Family members love to tell the stories on my dad while bedding the cattle, when all of a sudden the giant man was doing the hippy hippy shake, ripping clothes off, as a mouse ran up his leg - the memory of it scurrying around his skin making him shudder now. Similar things happened to others, like my Uncle, but both men are quick to mention the neighbor lady who had a similar experience putting her hand in her pocket and screeching like a banshee. As she hopped around hollering, ripping at her coat, she somehow lodged that balled up wad of Kleenex in her pocket to realize that the "mouse" was just remnants of a cold.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, I know all those outside of the Alberta border, who don't know about the Alberta rat patrol, are probably scoffing at our arch nemesis and you'd like to tell your rat stories, but for now let me revel in my mice stories. Come Fall, when we are all crying and fighting the battle with any of these dreaded creatures, we'll commiserate, laugh, and curse the dickens out of them. We'll also know in our heart of hearts that along with the Red Tailed Hawk, the swift Pronghorns, and the old mother Badger, that the bitsy Deer Mice are more a part of these prairies than us grizzled old folks who have taken up residence here. It still doesn't mean we have to like them.</span></div>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-5757735292436544612014-02-23T20:35:00.000-08:002014-02-23T20:35:02.546-08:00Head Outside - Take Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">A little ironic, isn't it? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">On top of this old uncomfortable chair, I like to sit with one leg tucked up, shaking my words out onto the computer. The technology is booted up in the hours when quiet takes over the home and babies are sleeping soundly in their beds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">My eyes soak the irony in as I see the big chalkboard sign hung on the wall, right above the computer stuffed up <i>inside</i> the house. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I do believe, folks, it is in everyone's favour to get up and go outside. Post-Olympic depression? No problem. <a href="http://littleprairiebaby.blogspot.ca/2013/09/head-outside.html" target="_blank">Go outside</a>. Even if minus twenty temperatures swirl around you, somehow, something good happens deep inside when soaking in the great outdoors. Be bolstered by the snow and sun. Give a little fist pump to the lone bird that bravely flies through the sky. Look up, look way up and know this is the most amazing screen you will ever see. A picture show created just for you - hypnotic <a href="http://dirtroadsab.blogspot.ca/2014/02/lets-dance.html" target="_blank">green lights dancing </a>in the cold, dark night or thousands of twinkling stars appear after the sunset of wild colours we can't recreate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Shut the computer off for the day, put your phone away and help haul tiny hands into mittens. I hear a lot these days about shutting your phone or computer off to be in the moment with your children. I don't only want to make an effort to put the phone away while my kids are awake for the sole reason that I'm in the moment with them. I want to be careful what I model. I don't want these tiny imitators growing up to feel a constant need to be checking their phone, mail, and text messages with the attitude that if they don't get it right away, the world is just going to up and end.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Let's model a love for the great outdoors, not our phones. Let's play in the yard, walk down the street, lick a little syrup off the snow and give February a big kick in the pants, because fellow Albertans, it's <i>almost over.</i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">So, when all else fails, go outside. </span><br />
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-58877132431759567402014-02-21T13:24:00.001-08:002014-02-26T12:55:50.083-08:00 Why Cattle are Valuable in Alberta's Forest Reserve and the Feral Horse Controversy <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhreTbkFSMqYS5HbQckCpomgYPXB3Odn_gwvzuxXYayJbKraHtQ3tcQt91FGBxAyz8x5-sIZQX3sSywCILkmyxjNT9kD4K_ppw0oegU79hw_8DHYPJZ3Xauaiv6HwDHlZEaU2NTKNXc6UwJ/s1600/PicMonkey+Collageee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhreTbkFSMqYS5HbQckCpomgYPXB3Odn_gwvzuxXYayJbKraHtQ3tcQt91FGBxAyz8x5-sIZQX3sSywCILkmyxjNT9kD4K_ppw0oegU79hw_8DHYPJZ3Xauaiv6HwDHlZEaU2NTKNXc6UwJ/s1600/PicMonkey+Collageee.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As sourced from the <a href="http://esrd.alberta.ca/lands-forests/land-management/feral-horses/feral-horse-capture-faqs.aspx" target="_blank">ESRD</a>, there are currently 980 feral horses just on the Southern East Slopes, and it is suspected there is actually a higher count. Currently, in Alberta there are capture permits out to cull some of the horses. It is important to keep in mind that based on the stocking rate formula, established by the ESRD, that in ONE grazing season (based on a five month grazing season) the number of 980 unmanaged horses is equivalent to 3435 cows/calf pairs. Conservation and grass management is not only important to producers, the Alberta government, and livestock, but to other wildlife on the hills. ** Numbers are calculated through the current stocking rate formula, for a complete breakdown and photos of the formula from a current grazing permit, send me a line & I'll get back to you. littleprairiebaby@gmail.com **</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Tucked deep into the Albertan forestry on the eastern slopes of the untamed Rockies, cabins are hidden away and cow camps look like a snapshot from one hundred years ago. Grazing permit holders are still cowboying the old way, packing salt in on horseback and pushing their cows high into the mountains to graze. Although far from cell phone service and bright lights, with approximately 16 500 cow/calf pairs coming off of these ranges in the fall, how they are managed is far from primitive. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The provincial forest reserve is a land mass that stretches around 23,000 square kilometres and has had cattle grazing under government management since 1915. In 1930 the provincial government, replaced the federal government, as the acting custodian of the reserve and continued to implement the same values that were brought to light in the early nineteenth century. Conservation of timber and watershed were recognized as important; therefore, cattle were brought into the forestry to help protect it against fires by clearing away dead grass and brush. This proved to be mutually beneficent, as the continued success of ranchers hinged on the need for more grass. Since the grazing permits’ inception in the early 1900's, both the science of range management as well as the overall health of the forest reserve has grown. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Unlike government leases, grazing permits are set up on a preference quota (PQ) giving the rancher rights to graze a certain number of Animal Unit Months (AUMs). The ranchers are required to follow a number of legislated conditions; one condition is to have a Range Management Plan (RMP). Ranchers work closely with government employed agrologists in the writing of their RMP, a valued manual which is meant to stay current and updated. Management strategy is held in high esteem by both ranchers and the Alberta government alike and details down to salting techniques, dates of grass use and range riding are all recorded. Producers today know the value of educated range management, going as far as helping to fund their own vegetation inventory studies and continuously putting forth the effort to trail blaze in the way Alberta's forestry is grazed. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In the late 1990's, ranchers utilizing the forestry grass, bound together to form the Rocky Mountain Forest Reserve Association (RMFRA) because they recognized the importance of a collaborative effort to continue to promote stewardship of the land. The association is made up of a board of directors and members who pay fees of $1 per AUM, with a current total of 83 000 AUMs in the association. This association has also received grants to help pay for studies to promote rangeland health and its impact on livestock. The collective group of ranchers strive to produce unbiased and educated studies for themselves and the public alike. In the past, this group has completed studies on wolves and feral horses and their impact to livestock health, prescribed burning of timber, and recreation and land use. The RMFRA has been recognized and received an international award for their conservation efforts, but director Keith Kinnear humbly puts it, "For the most part it is in our best interest to graze properly as we are the first to feel the impact of overgrazing."</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">With the cow/calf sector being critical to one of Alberta's leading industries -- beef production, grazier Jim Bauer says, "With no calves, there is no beef. A beef cow can take rough range land pastures and make relatively low quality forage into a big healthy calf in the fall." Beef production doesn't just help feed the world, but continues to sustain many farming/ranching families and create a wealth of jobs inside the industry. It is noteworthy to see the provincial government and producers working hand in hand to provide guardianship to the forest reserve. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWl1zcpVXjnvdu34lFFzqnMEvNk0SFft5BZN9PAMAHCJYZcpruTKHVPQf9aNisdF1_vRd_ZWWGCa2cRonApVOwuOhP0IlOGfJ1mI_V00cZtbeLnuQE-NUIbqN8txxjQlf-41kSU-acoMfP/s1600/outwest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWl1zcpVXjnvdu34lFFzqnMEvNk0SFft5BZN9PAMAHCJYZcpruTKHVPQf9aNisdF1_vRd_ZWWGCa2cRonApVOwuOhP0IlOGfJ1mI_V00cZtbeLnuQE-NUIbqN8txxjQlf-41kSU-acoMfP/s1600/outwest.jpg" height="372" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-39880990275650758472014-02-08T17:52:00.001-08:002014-02-09T10:04:11.812-08:00Miscellany <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Forget the Olympics, weather seems to be the great unifier. Everyone wants to talk about it. Polar Vortex, storms in Texas, how cold their run to the car was that morning - it seems to have a flurry of chatter going on. Have you ever had the moisture from your eyes freeze leaving you with some kind of odd white mascara look? This is winter, gentle readers,<i> winter.</i><i> </i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6yolHtij4zLCQo5879hOczqEMR8gDvPO8MaR6UPBd20M-XNe3cXiHci3MEShpsjG3r_-m_YPehdGvpg3kO7dP_LuJA0pQ1uPIWQJscYD4wBezzQtiMHin24ew6FV749rqxSiK_w9_LMK/s1600/DSC_0055ee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6yolHtij4zLCQo5879hOczqEMR8gDvPO8MaR6UPBd20M-XNe3cXiHci3MEShpsjG3r_-m_YPehdGvpg3kO7dP_LuJA0pQ1uPIWQJscYD4wBezzQtiMHin24ew6FV749rqxSiK_w9_LMK/s1600/DSC_0055ee.jpg" height="436" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking down the road from my house, the snow is piled so high on either side, I can't 'see out'. It is like walking through a tunnel with the big sky above me. With the drifts looming above me, at eight or nine feet, I feel like if I'd scale up the side, what would peer up at me on that big open field?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kirv45pOQolP9rksmXZHVBXyIEez6DVbjgrB3ZAdAI1vyWZgoswDhaBlLvHMjHC3GPXMYbkCPlZRS23HKObPYPMyKQUrKI1FUBBMLDNGCWL4n7zSlZmGcgFM42zUQbifzWc7pgKuzu6s/s1600/DSC_0071e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kirv45pOQolP9rksmXZHVBXyIEez6DVbjgrB3ZAdAI1vyWZgoswDhaBlLvHMjHC3GPXMYbkCPlZRS23HKObPYPMyKQUrKI1FUBBMLDNGCWL4n7zSlZmGcgFM42zUQbifzWc7pgKuzu6s/s1600/DSC_0071e.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowy Owl - Twit Twoo - It warmed up to -25 C when I took this photo today. Balmy really, compared to the past few days.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYKYZCf9eunE_2o2L3LvlzYwg5Kr6gNIhJXKDgR5D2c9noSzx6Cc-9LuqZ9L4AgL3wik426XhSPVPmaQc8crJXbpM9GqRaQ1nlDxnhH9WbPKjOu_yw1q3gjdzhNOvYU050tARXmUlWzodJ/s1600/DSC_0468e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYKYZCf9eunE_2o2L3LvlzYwg5Kr6gNIhJXKDgR5D2c9noSzx6Cc-9LuqZ9L4AgL3wik426XhSPVPmaQc8crJXbpM9GqRaQ1nlDxnhH9WbPKjOu_yw1q3gjdzhNOvYU050tARXmUlWzodJ/s1600/DSC_0468e.jpg" height="188" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please note, this is the top strand of a barbed wire fence peeking above the snow. Please also note the put, put snowmobile tracks. Where the snow was too great to push with a tractor and a blade anymore and the snowblower hadn't gotten into the leases yet, men were checking the oil & gas wells on snowmobile. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. I loaded up my children and hauled them a few miles down the road so we could watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. The Olympics make me want to get TV - for each room of the house. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember helping in the local Kindergarten room years ago, and at the beginning of the year you'd ask the children what province or country they lived in and maybe one kid would stop picking their nose and take a guess. When the Olympics were on, they would come to school cheering about what medal Canada had won or in deep discussion of the previous day's hockey game. They became globally aware. I loved it. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXI_Ua-0STRu4QlUslSxth1okmpt9Q4gH1AXNOLxZOtllxdTJaGe66v-5KHqKDi9otCCPOaI5Rw1uGVroD8pumwQADoGTSrGSLzckKzNacvwrkz7s-m5wwynfMejuGhJeGA9iShm0tCHQ/s1600/flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXI_Ua-0STRu4QlUslSxth1okmpt9Q4gH1AXNOLxZOtllxdTJaGe66v-5KHqKDi9otCCPOaI5Rw1uGVroD8pumwQADoGTSrGSLzckKzNacvwrkz7s-m5wwynfMejuGhJeGA9iShm0tCHQ/s1600/flag.jpg" height="414" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://islandvillagetofino.com/chesterman-beach-locations/beach-studio/" target="_blank">source</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3.I like Kirkland disinfectant wipes. A lot. In a random discussion over doing dishes, my sister in law claimed her love for the wipes as well. She says she would go as far as to wipe the bottom of her children's feet off with them as they came in the house in the summer months. I can't say that is too looney tune, as I stashed them into my big satchel to take with me to the hospital this past week. A little scrub, scrub around a hospital sink never hurt anyone. One can never be too careful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One may not get out enough either. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4.My son, he is six months old now and the apple of every single eye of this house. Do they make Weight Watchers for babies? Brother Bear is weighing in three pounds heavier than both of my girls were on their first birthdays. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Baby Bjorn, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Would you please sell a sling/baby carrier that comes with a person to do the actual carrying? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sincerely,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cheyenne</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmXSExquVdHjRL5BRehaHKQPtO_sGNR4B_nMWu3PCFCkXJhAFSX6UzwtRMTG2PhM16OfrpqP1jjmvWjePk7cSgvNGoW-AThoRPHO3DGGT-_EoxNDJNuMoebuKasstGHHUADu5vtxyJ0SS/s1600/DSC_1267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmXSExquVdHjRL5BRehaHKQPtO_sGNR4B_nMWu3PCFCkXJhAFSX6UzwtRMTG2PhM16OfrpqP1jjmvWjePk7cSgvNGoW-AThoRPHO3DGGT-_EoxNDJNuMoebuKasstGHHUADu5vtxyJ0SS/s1600/DSC_1267.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lately, this wee man has been called Hoss, is anyone from the era that they know what I'm talking about? He is so big. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. Glory Hallelujah, we are in the business of feeding birds.The girls seem to whip out these feeders at a record rate and it can keep them busy for quite some time. After a good half hour of cheerful singing and making their little feeders, I realize that the two year old wasn't chiming in anymore. Do you think eating copious amounts of bird seed is a bad thing? I don't either. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let it also be noted, I do not normally buy unsweetened peanut butter, but when it comes to feeding the birds, I thought they should have the most healthful option. My husband laughed when he heard me say I wouldn't feed that gross stuff to the girls! Nope, the healthy stuff is for the birds, my friends, just for the birds. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9mO85lfjnaGhDp2FVJ_hX0jrU98ir9aWj6HO0cUF02x_ngKDu5yqXYUoUCRKw3wvHVyc8sIJP9LDhX4BBb3CHNnjlnMlGdfrjndxKFYySIRXTteBj034YNlxHU7KK-3cvhDraurWeO9QG/s1600/DSC_0381ee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9mO85lfjnaGhDp2FVJ_hX0jrU98ir9aWj6HO0cUF02x_ngKDu5yqXYUoUCRKw3wvHVyc8sIJP9LDhX4BBb3CHNnjlnMlGdfrjndxKFYySIRXTteBj034YNlxHU7KK-3cvhDraurWeO9QG/s1600/DSC_0381ee.jpg" height="410" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slop a little peanut butter on some pine cones and toss on your bird seed, tie up with a pretty ribbon, raffia, binder twine - whatever - and throw on a tree. Your kids will be so pleased and you can watch the birds while you eat your breakfast. </td></tr>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-3233071779532019132014-02-04T10:23:00.000-08:002014-02-05T15:00:50.296-08:00Canadian Farms<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://aha.the-ria.ca/pdf/3-Hargrave-Heather-May3.pdf" target="_blank">Information sourced from here.</a></td></tr>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-58732628908555628942014-02-01T10:29:00.000-08:002014-11-04T15:09:18.434-08:00Mennonite Sausage Soup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLJDIcmqNYaB8Msjmj79ULNbuc1qBXjhyphenhyphen6PQT5G4tRudflU2IgMQcEQsOwHM4Nl4aujmoqd1WKTlp4dgHycdGXqdJ2YOzgelKOdJKH1OfmleP1cqEMcshULwYe_t1Zfe0yD1fuv7S1bgr/s1600/DSC_0881e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLJDIcmqNYaB8Msjmj79ULNbuc1qBXjhyphenhyphen6PQT5G4tRudflU2IgMQcEQsOwHM4Nl4aujmoqd1WKTlp4dgHycdGXqdJ2YOzgelKOdJKH1OfmleP1cqEMcshULwYe_t1Zfe0yD1fuv7S1bgr/s1600/DSC_0881e.jpg" height="450" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am not sure if you have that friendship with soup like our home does. Is there nothing finer on a cold day (or hot day) when you're sick (or in health), than peeking in your fridge and seeing lovely jars of soup all lined up? For the day when the chaos of children seem to shake our home and the floor looks like Toys R Us spit up everywhere, I love the convenience of putting a jar of soup on the stove to heat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, I'm not sure if your family pulls tricks like mine does when it comes to cooking. The favourite the womenfolk around here love to voice, "I don't really have a recipe for that, I just make it by taste." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, then. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Making it by taste? Is that sort of like going by feel when you are blind? Somehow I think my 'by taste' isn't quite as seasoned as my momma's or my grandma's. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yoo hoo! Grandma! I need you to stop adding random ingredients and to start writing things down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, shall we mix up a pot of some of the most kid friendly, tasty soup around? Don't let the little ones discourage you by asking about the grass in their soup (why is dill a foreign object?) Just press on, dear readers, don't even try to explain the dill, just tell them to look at the cows - they seem to enjoy the grass. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now if you aren't from these parts, please substitute your own sausage for Chetin sausage. Does anyone else local have Chetin sausage written into their recipes? Let's chop, chop, chop that sausage and cook it up in a big old pot. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy2WWVImXggZERm3dYsstnVYZssVMN0HDWHhN01vSfUEZcJ3MzbtzoXyISq02-gKjwdlzF2gRNi0gYPh7vuqLYBz-G8cBFlK0u-erwDwlJutLJlOpFwDU8SqEDtiG6U-Hk1SRNEoydILXX/s1600/DSC_0847e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy2WWVImXggZERm3dYsstnVYZssVMN0HDWHhN01vSfUEZcJ3MzbtzoXyISq02-gKjwdlzF2gRNi0gYPh7vuqLYBz-G8cBFlK0u-erwDwlJutLJlOpFwDU8SqEDtiG6U-Hk1SRNEoydILXX/s1600/DSC_0847e.jpg" height="376" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you are from the hinterland like us, haul up your stash of potatoes from the basement. Do you have carrots left from the garden? Haul onions and carrots in - chop these morsels up in a uniform fashion (or not so uniform, we are laid back). </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadVvBd7ABd5YzTsErQw0MTNK9OJDefE9uATjvcoebcqQbC_j9ytOR7EY-vHsf-69SWaOfe6E2-yVc_3tB55HRaiaf72F9aR3z2Dok8UIpWvbN6cc25-tuKVhbbrEE6TuknPZNcJnkwW16/s1600/DSC_0857e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadVvBd7ABd5YzTsErQw0MTNK9OJDefE9uATjvcoebcqQbC_j9ytOR7EY-vHsf-69SWaOfe6E2-yVc_3tB55HRaiaf72F9aR3z2Dok8UIpWvbN6cc25-tuKVhbbrEE6TuknPZNcJnkwW16/s1600/DSC_0857e.jpg" height="430" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One cup of fresh chopped dill (or 1/4 cup of dried) will round things out nicely. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14Q4r9r7IOJtNDuczVpXLohbngFGpVaiWsXUEr9WM2SPsY3v6KKGFX9yZWHf9AK-KuEjbwYc-rID3gYSG4nBEvqGsOMCTZqMuujA0-iHteiujpscbYf8r2yTFe2yB_fp45Zrik-kipsRL/s1600/DSC_0854e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14Q4r9r7IOJtNDuczVpXLohbngFGpVaiWsXUEr9WM2SPsY3v6KKGFX9yZWHf9AK-KuEjbwYc-rID3gYSG4nBEvqGsOMCTZqMuujA0-iHteiujpscbYf8r2yTFe2yB_fp45Zrik-kipsRL/s1600/DSC_0854e.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cook it up with two boxes of chicken stock, with a few extra tablespoons of bouillon for extra measure, a pat of butter, and some salt and pepper. Cook those veggies till they are good for the eating, with the drained off sausage and folks - THIS is when you add the peas. Do not put them in earlier. Unless you have a love for mushy peas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like to cook this with double the ingredients or more, and then can the rest to keep in the fridge for a few weeks so we aren't eating leftovers until the end of time, and can space the soup eating out a bit. Best kitchen tip ever - can your soup. Rather than freezing your soup, because who likes frozen mushy tasting potatoes? Grandma would tell you this is a poor idea. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Best of luck to you, do not be afraid to enlist small helpers, it may increase prep time, but will provide you with hoards of entertainment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mennonite Sausage Soup</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2 litres of chicken broth (2 boxes)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 package of Chetin sausage chopped fine</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6 cups of diced potatoes</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6 cups of diced carrots</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2 cups of chopped onions</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 cup of green peas</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 cup of chopped fresh dill (or 1/4 cup dried)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2 tbsp of chicken bouillon powder</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">pepper</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 pat of butter</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Boil chopped Mennonite sausage for 10-15 minutes, and then drain the water out. Add all the other ingredients and simmer until vegetables are cooked. Except peas, which you add at the end - unless you are six months old and mushy peas are appealing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">**A short update - Chetin sausage is a locally sold sausage - some of our favourite, it is just the type of Mennonite sausage we often eat. Mennonite sausage is a smoked pork sausage mixed with basic seasoning (salt & pepper). We eat it far, far too much. Farmer sausage is what you should look for in the store or come visit us and we can hook you up. </span><br />
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Linking up<a href="http://www.notjustahousewife.net/2014/11/october-linky-party.html#" target="_blank"> here.</a><br />
<img align="left" src="http://i386.photobucket.com/albums/oo310/shabbycreations2/c.png" style="border: 0px currentColor;" />
Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-45058845562046323312014-01-28T13:16:00.000-08:002014-01-28T13:16:32.870-08:00DissapointmentWhile perusing the internet I have seen this photo accompanied by a recipe several times:<br />
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<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/AVvXsEjzNLNNV6a9yQxWU1NZHGVOLM-1LzOpi81KNTQCPgp-9jTQT3tEfyxKBGIYFBPhyphenhyphent_7Wx5AgWDPqw56PQabg78_CcrDD_hHnyj-YrA9_HSApY69IEv_r3PQIPaOk2q8_Q17nqbcJ2nvRqFx/s1600/cauliflower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzNLNNV6a9yQxWU1NZHGVOLM-1LzOpi81KNTQCPgp-9jTQT3tEfyxKBGIYFBPhyphenhyphent_7Wx5AgWDPqw56PQabg78_CcrDD_hHnyj-YrA9_HSApY69IEv_r3PQIPaOk2q8_Q17nqbcJ2nvRqFx/s1600/cauliflower.jpg" height="354" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.purewow.com/entry_detail/recipe/8821?" target="_blank">source</a></td></tr>
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My exhausted brain fools me and for a split second I think I see this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkx9j3wXqcKM8w_45BT_tIUNxriuNRmhkHddCCm2DBd5rXbopUafr3uVlyOz-6hVzIdr2gl5Zp7tKkQ1L776qPRCe9f9wuIOqOfJd4cCkxw01ciuW3-lbcauSVuUsPRCKNPr-0ebA73WzE/s1600/turkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkx9j3wXqcKM8w_45BT_tIUNxriuNRmhkHddCCm2DBd5rXbopUafr3uVlyOz-6hVzIdr2gl5Zp7tKkQ1L776qPRCe9f9wuIOqOfJd4cCkxw01ciuW3-lbcauSVuUsPRCKNPr-0ebA73WzE/s1600/turkey.jpg" height="400" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/foodanddrink/recipes/3708493/Christmas-turkey-and-cooking-times.html" target="_blank">source</a><br /></td></tr>
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In that teensy second, my brain whirls with cheering, fireworks, and the image of confetti shooting through the air. In the next moment, I can vaguely hear the sound of a balloon letting out air. It's <i>just cauliflower. </i><br />
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The end.<br />
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-58712936867531651522014-01-15T20:14:00.002-08:002014-01-15T20:14:49.319-08:00Hold Dear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBFeue0HsafjDfM4Oslz_ZByg0s0v1Nl_jmZ1aPRCZJ3M7QKoNZGrbq7qr63hQ9E5XLeukD2UtoTxhFfRHsZ-4yC6TAxWWC5-vEkPXXrwEUBAEOGYiOSVy1pBWJNakqk953Tw0M4BY0vt/s1600/DSC_0477e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBFeue0HsafjDfM4Oslz_ZByg0s0v1Nl_jmZ1aPRCZJ3M7QKoNZGrbq7qr63hQ9E5XLeukD2UtoTxhFfRHsZ-4yC6TAxWWC5-vEkPXXrwEUBAEOGYiOSVy1pBWJNakqk953Tw0M4BY0vt/s1600/DSC_0477e.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I want to remember. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">More than anything, I want to remember the sun stretched out, turning the snow cotton candy pink and the wonder of small eyes blinking it in to their souls. I want to remember the tiny bundle, under four big, fluffy blankets in the stroller. Oh, to feel that warmth on my hand, lifting the flap, checking his cheeks, and seeing his little lips sucking on that soother - a blue and black plaid hood framing his wee face. I want to recall the sticks that were so cheerfully collected for a fire when 'springtime comes.' I want to see those little gloves, that zip all the way up to their elbows, digging in the snow 'like badgers.' </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Please, oh please, don't let me forget, standing with my three children, in a landscape cloaked with snow, watching the sun put itself to sleep, while at the same time we watched the big, fat moon rise high. Crisp air, big sky, and the crunch of our feet in the white. Discussions of coyote and deer tracks and the wild possibility of what a big white hare's feet might look like in the snow, bury themselves into my mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">More than I want to remember, I want <i>them</i> to remember. If their minds are too small to recall the details of our everyday, please let these three little people know a kinship with the wild outdoors and a deep love of family. Let the good of these days be sewn into their hearts. </span><br />
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-20547842604342804382014-01-10T13:52:00.001-08:002014-01-10T13:52:54.095-08:00Breathing Cold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAj60IK77OmnmALj2njp9F9oGUsbhmFsSlZPLEDDR-8ljHdxR8lDMUQLWecL6kFLA1n80YZiGAF1oAGNfuhqhOv5EhcobrXBsQxe9RzN1URgoxyBAzQiw5HsuqHa1ruQ3Qk6ViuNN7vjx2/s1600/DSC_0483ee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAj60IK77OmnmALj2njp9F9oGUsbhmFsSlZPLEDDR-8ljHdxR8lDMUQLWecL6kFLA1n80YZiGAF1oAGNfuhqhOv5EhcobrXBsQxe9RzN1URgoxyBAzQiw5HsuqHa1ruQ3Qk6ViuNN7vjx2/s1600/DSC_0483ee.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQuUzjuGi1YQu1eJH5DlOpb-bBuZRcRWA_ZW9NKhPsxx4jiy8Po_uOuRm_WLLb-pdo4XznvzGh1y8xCbom_nHTyKuvI9gGuc0uOFd9HK7vchWXWqSWOESnCcFSUBuOwOD4W_XKSoJybEM/s1600/DSC_0492e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQuUzjuGi1YQu1eJH5DlOpb-bBuZRcRWA_ZW9NKhPsxx4jiy8Po_uOuRm_WLLb-pdo4XznvzGh1y8xCbom_nHTyKuvI9gGuc0uOFd9HK7vchWXWqSWOESnCcFSUBuOwOD4W_XKSoJybEM/s1600/DSC_0492e.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJstyjfRLi1_UK1AL_ndZ0sU_7ydGCLQTnp638qsnsbcrQvJS_mMSQzmQI_-qC8af4W4BqV7hWUQ6Wkvux7YOYRx9cPBmZJY85hQcb6nTZ13psTRwZ7BxCEtQEAVaNCEYOyE7S9MEZRV55/s1600/DSC_0452e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJstyjfRLi1_UK1AL_ndZ0sU_7ydGCLQTnp638qsnsbcrQvJS_mMSQzmQI_-qC8af4W4BqV7hWUQ6Wkvux7YOYRx9cPBmZJY85hQcb6nTZ13psTRwZ7BxCEtQEAVaNCEYOyE7S9MEZRV55/s1600/DSC_0452e.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When the wind howls loudly and you can't see very far in front of yourself - I pray that somehow deep inside an inner <b>quietness</b> is your <b>strength</b>. </span></div>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-5631163774804646292013-11-18T13:35:00.005-08:002013-11-18T13:35:48.875-08:00Winter for KA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1v4i3B_G8Xbe8BKoGKpJzASpI27g8fXpFcZesZJNpaaSSZJ51HyNOyseOEVpD73Zi_V4IC39D1UKGYYNlaq9SREtjAigr6EwQe_2M4LmMpujlIY_m20q5wkRd_AEFi5c-THAAHAePDTe/s1600/DSC_0320e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1v4i3B_G8Xbe8BKoGKpJzASpI27g8fXpFcZesZJNpaaSSZJ51HyNOyseOEVpD73Zi_V4IC39D1UKGYYNlaq9SREtjAigr6EwQe_2M4LmMpujlIY_m20q5wkRd_AEFi5c-THAAHAePDTe/s640/DSC_0320e.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think that there should be special cameras made for folks who reside in the north. Where is the setting you turn it to when you look out and let a holler rip because you are blinded by white? My two year old informed me today that her "eyes were breaking" as the sunlight glinted off the snow and knocked her one straight in the peepers. Next to the big 'A' for auto, 'M' for manual, I wish there was a 'C' for cold. I don't think any kind of photo can convey the cold in a proper manner. Unless you feel yourself reaching for a hot cup of coffee, to <i>pour on your toes,</i> then you aren't catching what I'm laying down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A friend wanted me to send pictures of the blizzard that reigned down on Saturday. Oy veh! Don't you know I can't see across the yard for the swirling snow? How does the rule of thirds apply to an entire canvas painted in white? </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Let's drive around and see how much snow they got at such & such place," said every farmer in the country. "A drift? It's minus twenty five? I drive a dodge! We haven't been out for a month, but today is a great day to visit neighbours!'</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The best bet is to wait until the day after the onslaught. Sure, what's a bit of ice fog to slow a picture taker down? What, you can't see half a mile down the road? Neither can I! Let's hope that the neighbour doesn't hit the crazy momma standing out in the middle of the road snapping photos to let you in on the beauty of the great white north. This is why I wear neon pink muck boots, gentle readers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We have had snow on the ground for awhile now. I hadn't put much thought into it until I saw various photos of places south of the border showing off brilliant colours of leaves on the ground, or people talking about wearing chunky sweaters and boots, all this pumpkin latte blah, blah. Yes, I like the chunky sweaters too, just please give me a winter parka over top and I think there might be some leaves under the drifts that dollop the landscape like whipped cream. Pumpkin lattes? Puh-lease. Black coffee and maple syrup (straight from the tree.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Despite my arms burning with chillblains, I better open them wide and welcome winter in. Eight months of the year is too long to be grumpy about something, so today I'll choose to look out the window and remark how the sight of sparkling white is about the prettiest one I've seen. Heaven knows the Littles will mimic whatever dear ol' ma says, and cuss words don't appeal to me much from the mouth of a child. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Come on in, Winter! We won't fuss and whine like a two year old.</span><br />
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( Or at least until March. )<br />
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-39046473370791117792013-11-14T14:03:00.001-08:002013-11-14T14:03:48.712-08:00Everyday Conversations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">This chat went down between my Grandma and I after I checked a message on my cheapest of cheap junk phone. The <i>great grandmother </i>of my children and my dearest friend:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Grandma: Missy, did you get the new updates on your phone? Carson put them on my phone this weekend and whoo! Are they ever uptown!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Grandma, this isn't an iPhone - in fact I can hardly text on this thing. I don't even know what you're talking about. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Grandma and technology - one point. Cheyenne and technology - zero.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">*****</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Between two little dresses in the back seat of the truck.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Taylin: Myla, what do you think is the worst? I think that definitely pig manure and chicken manure have to be THE worstest when they are spreading. I almost throw up when they spread chicken manure! Cow poop isn't so bad. What do you think?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Myla: Cow poop! Cow poop! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">*****</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the way up the stairs, amongst the old wallpapered walls, which I'm sure hold their own stories:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Taylin: Hip! Hip! Mom, you be the old cow and I'll load you up the chute. Hip! Hip! Wait, lemme' go get a stick.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I may have shed a tear. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">****</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These are my people and the everyday conversations help make up my days. With every tick of the clock, I am grateful for my family, even when I'm being referred to as an old cow. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This kid, commonly referred to as Tuffy has blue eyes 90% of the time, the odd moment, those lil' peepers seem to look a mite bit green to this mama. I don't think it's just when she is gawking at her sister's toys.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scout in her winter glory. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeInv9H1tkquG0ot4dBCbN-KzFqpJfq51XhxRDNbRYkwJK-s3MukYkH1DWu6mxvSeaAy_qeg5AlRPDd4R2BOKL-nLtDuuhkPZW-3Xn_OqnV7e6wK4MQd9YpZ4n-aeGp7XI9zjF6grcBkd_/s1600/DSC_0306e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeInv9H1tkquG0ot4dBCbN-KzFqpJfq51XhxRDNbRYkwJK-s3MukYkH1DWu6mxvSeaAy_qeg5AlRPDd4R2BOKL-nLtDuuhkPZW-3Xn_OqnV7e6wK4MQd9YpZ4n-aeGp7XI9zjF6grcBkd_/s640/DSC_0306e.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little man of the house. Wee Pepper, snuggled up, with that perfect soft baby fuzz to lie your cheek on and weep tears of wonder. </td></tr>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-50116956988170661542013-10-22T14:00:00.002-07:002013-10-22T14:00:44.740-07:00Home Folks<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Sl3QoqI9w6o" width="459"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My friend Carmen and I camped in these coulees, mucked in that creek and shot gophers in the pasture. We've ridden horseback, quads, and even an old skidoo around that yard. We've slurped black coffee, sat in the warmth of the wood burning stove in the kitchen and listened to stories at the table. It is in these moments, I am so grateful for 'home folks' and to have grown up in a place where <i>neighbours</i> are the truest sense of community - they are like family. </span><br />
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<img align="left" src="http://i386.photobucket.com/albums/oo310/shabbycreations2/c.png" style="border: 0;" />Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-1326187283971031432013-10-21T22:15:00.002-07:002013-10-21T22:15:33.842-07:00Fall Decorating on the Cheap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am a little concerned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">During nap time yesterday I kept flying down to the burn pit. My legs couldn't seem to carry me quickly enough as I tried to haul as much rubbish out of this house before any of the children could see me throwing out precious scraps of paper, pine cones, or any other tiny piece of garbage they may have collected. I've started referring to their reaction as "the wrath." Up in Sister's room there are tiny piles of semi precious items. We put up apples this week and the big lids that came off the apple boxes seemed to catch her fancy and sure enough they are upstairs hiding in the corner of her room. There are approximately one zillion tiny plastic bags with tiny precious things in them and each and every night I sneak in there and haul them out. The problem is, she notices everything that I throw out. She will go to the bathroom and I'll quickly toss stuff, all the while formulating my answer to her questions and now I spend most of my time simply evading her inquiries.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> "Momma, where is that special piece of pretty pink ribbon I found yesterday on the floor in Wal-Mart? Remember that other time two years ago when I found the shiny <i>purple</i> ribbon on the floor *insert any nasty, dirty and disgusting place you can think of."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Taylin! Look at the hawk out the window!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Am I a bad mom?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The only benefit in having real life mini hoarders living in my house is they can easily spend hours outside with a pail in hand 'collecting' things for 'decorating'. For my l<strike>azy bones, non shopping</strike> frugal ways this has definitely helped in my fall feathering.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Folks, we like to just bring the outdoors in! Forget the Pottery Barn fancy tablecloth and Pier One doo dads, a simple bowl full of pine cones and some ratty ol' leave will do us just fine. We don't even Pinterest those ol' pine cones up with glitter and white spray paint, no m'am, they are just fine as the good Lord intended them to look. The best part is, it can all be collected by tiny hands and can save oodles of moolah. It's true, simply put, my shopping skills are, shall we say, <i>lacking?</i> I don't really love perusing the aisles and don't overly want to part with twenty bucks on a plastic pumpkin, so we keep things simple. I'm not the girl who knows what the heck you are talking about when you mention pumpkin spice lattes, I'm more the apple crisp with coffee - fall kind of girl. So, yes, let's gather outside junk to bring bugs and dust inside. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think I know where Scout got her hoarding tendencies from and why Tuffy likes to stop and proclaim the beauty in every. single. rock, stick, and leaf out there. Two hours to walk to the truck? Sure! Why not! Who cares if Old Man Winter is brushing our face with his windy fingers and we can feel his presence in the early morning frost - 'cause we found that glorious pine cone and whipped out the cutters to pull down branches. We are loving fall.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheat kernels with candles, in a mason jar, and some scrappy fabric & twine. This takes four seconds to put together and no brain power. My kind of style. <br /><br /><br /> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITNkj6bX_oiy1R7dxsL7rGj8WQoassgtrCkKImAd_dPV3BZ2Gr3WfxtOWWjvXP0YHh5XfJcusUIOT3qDrQGjppUbK_ZEMSyJjA7aLT7xZUlCsl73u_w-VXy4tRmRx3g1wXNIx9vjm88G6/s1600/DSC_0144ee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITNkj6bX_oiy1R7dxsL7rGj8WQoassgtrCkKImAd_dPV3BZ2Gr3WfxtOWWjvXP0YHh5XfJcusUIOT3qDrQGjppUbK_ZEMSyJjA7aLT7xZUlCsl73u_w-VXy4tRmRx3g1wXNIx9vjm88G6/s640/DSC_0144ee.jpg" width="448" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forgive the horrible picture. It's how I roll. Trust me, these mirrors are not that dirty! This picture is going to drive me crazy. I want to get my little cloth for cleaning my glasses and just scrub the computer screen. Right now. <br /><br /> The main point of the photo is to show Grandma Myrna what I did with the window sills from the old chicken coop. A similar one went down to my sis, only in a distressed white that a four year old helped paint. </td></tr>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8794588544765612554.post-31829713772170727712013-10-11T15:19:00.000-07:002013-10-11T15:25:21.867-07:00Responsiveness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkszxvz1x19A5Qh4S0uoo17heyWt9angalSACvnyg3Vx47zmsMIyTSZDzaGqv8Pjdn9xkmkCNdZqKHu-G1yN_k9jNGS_3UgcEboNfM5VNpTYDnk6PeT4jEngwjN2_Wh1dQc0OhF8BYplIF/s1600/DSC_0115e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkszxvz1x19A5Qh4S0uoo17heyWt9angalSACvnyg3Vx47zmsMIyTSZDzaGqv8Pjdn9xkmkCNdZqKHu-G1yN_k9jNGS_3UgcEboNfM5VNpTYDnk6PeT4jEngwjN2_Wh1dQc0OhF8BYplIF/s640/DSC_0115e.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">You. Yes, <i style="line-height: 34px;">you,</i> the quiet encourager - YOU MATTER.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">Thank you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">Thank you to the old soul in the young pretty face, framed with red hair who stood across the counter from me and handed my children free, warm cookies. You watched me try and pull my two year old out of the stroller, with screeching babe in arms, and an exhausted four year old standing watch - you looked into my worn eyes and smiled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">I close my peepers and picture the ordinary middle aged woman in white sneakers, who in spite of having teenagers, seemed to remember these 'early days.' When you noted that I am not an octopus and offered to rock the car seat in Costco while I unloaded groceries made my throat feel a big fat lump.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">Gratitude fills me when I think of the Grandma who told me I look like a natural, even though I knew I was flailing around like a fish out of water. Dear Grandma-lady, your kind heart, sweet voice, and dainty flowered dress made me <i style="line-height: 34px;">almost</i> believe you. It was your words that carried me throughout town to finish my chores, even though my dear babes had almost finished me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">Thank you to the brown eyed sister who stopped to coo at my babe. Thank you for noticing my two year old's enthusiasm for life, shall we, and giving my back a pat while telling me how sweet they are, even though I know we look remotely like we have spent the week with some type of small wild animals in our midst. Our skirts whipping out in that Fall wind,exchanging words about her grandchildren and my baby were my cup of coffee for the heart that day. It was my moment of community for the week, this stranger provided friendship in those two minutes and my heart was encouraged. Really, she wasn't a stranger, because girls, we are all in this together. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">Gratefulness,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">thanksgiving,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">and many praises to those dear hearts, the encouragers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">It is so easy to put our heads down and worm our way into our own thoughts and not notice those around us. We march about like ants on a mission. Busyness, exhaustion, routine, and a day in age where neighbouring seems to be a bit of a lost art seems to have us all shuffling on our own path.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">So, sisters, remember all it takes is a smile, a word of encouragement, or that extra hand someone may need and you are not only giving someone else hope, but placing extra meaning in your life. You, YOU, the revitaliser, you are appreciated!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">For the mama with an empty nest, thank you for your kindness. You are valued!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">For the Grandma whose grandchildren are so far away, and when your hand reaches out, I am thankful. You matter!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: normal;">For the mama in the same boat as I, with a full heart, and full hands thank you for your moment to say 'I understand.' You are precious!</span></div>
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Cheyennehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02216810837548735987noreply@blogger.com16