tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46396371652817831892024-02-07T01:02:29.106-08:00Now that I'm fiftyCindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-71619676837561970892008-08-22T10:13:00.001-07:002008-08-22T11:01:45.954-07:00The Rest of Our Mini VacationOn our little getaway we traveled south from Port Clinton to Dayton to one of our favorite places, The Airforce Museum at Wright Patterson Air Base. We've been there three times and I never tire of it. I'm always humbled by the sacrifices represented by each plane, especially the World War II fighters and bombers. They look so fragile I can't imagine going up in one of them , nevermind having someone shooting at me! We saw planes, too, from the Viet Nam era and helicopters, The Big Scary Guy's favorite aircraft. The memorabilia from the men who served on the planes is impressive as well. There were huge intercontinental ballistic missles on display and to tell the truth, they gave me the heebie jeebies. I was especially impressed, however, with the F-15 stealth bomber---COOL! <div><div><div><br /><div>We attended two IMAX presentations while we were there, too. One was on helicopter flight and the other had alot of flying in it but I can't remember exactly what it was about. With the mammoth screen you feel like you are aboard the aircraft and it is awesome!</div><br /><div>The first time we went there we travelled to another hangar on the base where the old Air Force Ones are stored. As a history buff, I was in hog heaven! At one point I was alone on the plane that brought JFKs body back from Dallas and where LBJ was sworn in as President. I get goose bumps just thinking about. I bought myself a mug that says "Air Force One." </div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237400458962351826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNuXhZmz1_kYYAiWsoCii3tkaR907gRLKOLmZR4kFDiaW9Ra9fsf7at6oj7w9h3zJ2bfEqOF2wvNFjftGvH2jddaEc8qxIWI8ThllYjFe5lxDrjDrF58_sAiWEqTRdm5W37yC2R5gDcI/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+048.JPG" border="0" /><br />I took a bazillion pictures of the planes. Here are just a few of them.<br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237401033860185570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_1_5UWGm0RvZ8zjzgdFejwRCUlRRBqv5WJmZdZGm5fpJTZhWhvfzZZdnZ81Upbe2PPKw5nfaiMy-STlhQ3poLnaBd9_XJdn7HtwKo5fHPRFvHTjEWymCA6ZezqxjpzVaNV_nX7Zy7Y4/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+049.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237401757528355218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYLsr86zpI44bpBbFjj48hZNI1jI2pJiGpXaQk1U7WBCD32bfZuaLcTH8qnPqtG7ecn81xYrf8Ft3_ZLsOp3bqc1v_HHOVcrDeBMAypbR3uXuGRZA_mtNfRzs6vamqPvv9XZd4BVO3Q4Q/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+055.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237402364564783218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLu89d1vIKt0u02-gx42xj8OdbdIYMpivuuDguw-spGv8TIhPrZlAmFaWBsOoXfJC0FbAS7Oz7o3XXRaftN0o1SwrvJD1sqqKMYiubamzFHtcfMnWiTJJPwFi1gQTmPoUuy0Wj0J0ZMYM/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+051.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237402878272688066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDmz4VHCwcLGFl2HwxNU0c8PU0OpZ4zuDFuVLJil27ag3h84W_r6CW8bBa_NqOx0iRoLuxo5glyqlD89JPHMsODcaOSO5lYmot0L2O05ycNimNOXREkvt_364KaMnOBx7BUALGwo37Z0/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+053.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>This museum is a "must see" for aviation and history buffs alike. I can't wait for our next visit.</div></div></div></div>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-29646855571035707922008-08-21T13:54:00.001-07:002008-08-21T14:50:36.491-07:00What I Did On My Summer VacationTom and I took a mini vacation a couple weeks ago and had a wonderful time. Did you know that a giraffe has a purple tongue that is very long? The reason I know this is because I had an up-close-and-personal encounter with one. We were driving through the African Safari Wildlife Park in Port Clinton, Ohio, when we met her. She was one of three giraffes behind a fence along the road. The fence was short enough for her to reach over. She was the picture of fluid grace as she leaned her head down to the window of the car twice to accept a carrot from me. As she wrapped her tongue around each carrot to take it from me I could feel its rough texture as well as the velvety softness of her lips and nose. It was an incredible experience.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237080164041202482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yuX28hCOgNhb-EMMZDx7tR8kXSXvd9BxPA5amnYhKDD0aINY-pFiDIK7iDOMotJau2XSnDBpxosCA6NBlpj4a9Rn7siN5HByEfi-TOOWgjUnPiFd-tFNQYyPEKo1ARtQv_eYlC4j7p4/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+035.JPG" border="0" /> <div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237080811397037042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKagN_6b0BffGmFdXYTY5erjkvrZlhqQrNhE-Ep23NxuXGJMunFedI5oHBhPXj6H8dF1-i8R3v_EICraGPCo_QGajGq2qIaXgx_XBmc2ZFZeft9oQEMptCXRHICTr_6U2duiPY0YzYXDw/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+039.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237081669873224850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXzzI3vn-BV6H18oHS85LZ24-YeIKYk-wH8-tRFL84YogJiV3UnELtWtxnmvzlzkcM6ELppufm0vYhpppLxtiZUzHwD1AXqE4lS4QFBZlBttZNdqsIsYnNWBUUl6PK07rPKBVYOQO0GgE/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+037.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><p>As you drive drive through the park you are greeted by scores of friendly animals. It's fun to leave your windows down for they are as curious about us as we are about them. Plus they're hoping for a handout. It was great fun when they stuck their heads in our car windows in search of pellets and carrots. And the animals weren't shy about begging. I shrieked when a reindeer stuck his head in my window and snatched the cup of pellets I had setting in my lap. I'd been watching Tom feed a carrot to a deer and wasn't paying attention to what was going on on my side of the car. The reindeer calmly grabbed the cup and upended it, pouring the pellets down his throat, on the ground, and all over my lap.</p><p>The deer were the most common of the animals but we also made the acquaintance of llamas, alpacas, reindeer, bison, oxen, wildebeeste, elk, zebras including rare white zebras, giraffes and probably <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237086667172029058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="238" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-Oa7CzRrCFx6D7BxvZCIFB_iLz9IBwtopr_FxQqNdirZnX4nk_VHW2U1q9dwoea0ErCPhEcqq3BWFF0Ev4WVqUNNxYyC_ndabs-9Z6hxE-58Bs9w9t2eXsmFKdhqUx4FZNipC33J2jA/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+012.JPG" width="320" border="0" />some I've forgotten or didn't know the name of.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237089590392572386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="239" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOlGDtd0nkAsgFas2Bg1KUhPJiEcPZBw7mNOjTTyjWTuXHNqv2_weG3w2FnWvij3DUkMPHmyJS2gTFPYMm78SAUqurh0jNXU59FyedEuKftiw2j-D1RwpZEBJ0LbjnbRQv80qJ5oj944o/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+040.JPG" width="320" border="0" /></p></div></div><br />The afternoon was delightful and exceded our expectations. We enjoyed being so close to so many beautiful wild animals. I hope we can return someday.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-45705887330711200582008-08-21T13:54:00.000-07:002008-08-21T13:55:16.547-07:00What I Did On My Summer VacationCindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-10717211190337032092008-08-01T10:29:00.000-07:002008-08-01T11:46:24.175-07:00Douglas' Birth StoryI am doing a project for my granddaughters. I have a book entitled <em>For My Grandchild, A Grandmother's Gift of Memory. </em>Since they only give you a few lines to answer each question, I've decided to do it my way and write the longer, more complete version. Here is my first essay, the story of Douglas' birth. Although it's been thirty years, I remember this experience like it happened just last week!<br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="left">On Monday, April 3, 1978 I woke earlier than usual. I was having contractions. This surprised me a bit since it was my due date and I'd heard first babies were almost always late. I decided to let Tom sleep while I made a pot of chili so he wouldn't starve while I was in the hospital. Busily chopping peppers and onions, I wondered how long labor would take. In our childbirth education class they'd shown a movie that portrayed labor dragging on for hours and hours. My mother had had long labors so I figured I was doomed to have a long one, too. By the time I plugged in the slow cooker the contracdtions were stronger and closer together. Suddenly not wanting to be alone, I woke Tom. Excitedly we started timing the contractions and discussing when to call the doctor.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Dr. Yoon's nurse suggested I go in to be checked so around 11:00 a.m. we headed for her office. After the exam she informed Tom, "You have baby today!" and told us to go to the hospital. (The OB nurse in me now wishes I'd asked her how far dilated I was but it'd be several years before I concerned myself with such things.)</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Before leaving home Tom discovered our federal income tax had come in the mail and, fearing he'd be stuck in the hospital for endless hours with nothing to eat before the baby was born, he decided to swing by the bank and cash it. As we were pulling up to the drive-through a particularly viscious contraction hit. It was so painful! I couldn't understand why we had to stop there, why we couldn't just go to the hospital and I started to cry. Tom tried to explain but I wasn't hearing any of it. I just hauled off and slugged him. "It hurts so bad!" Fortunately, by then the teller was waiting on us and we were soon on our way.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Arriving at Brown Memorial Hospital, I was wheeled to a labor room by Miss Evelyn Neill, R.N., the Director of Nurses, who commented on what a pretty dress I was wearing. It was powder blue with a white lace yoke and she said, "You must be planning on a having a boy since you're dressed in blue. I assured her that, no, I was counting on having a girl. Since they didn't routinely do ultrasounds then we didn't know the baby's gender. I, however, was certain it was a beautiful little girl named Christy Marie. In fact, we hadn't chosen a boy's name until a week before. After much discussion we'd chosen "Douglas Charles" as our just-in-case boy's name. As the admitting nurse listened to the fetal heart rate I asked her if it sounded like a girl or boy, In childbirth class we'd learned that boys' FHRs were generally slower than girls'. I was absolutely floored to hear her say that the fetal heart rate sounded like those of a boy!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">By now my contractions were much stronger and more painful. Tom was in Admitting filling out paperwork and the nursing staff was occupied with a delivery. I was alone. The contractions came harder and faster. All of a sudden I felt a gush of warmth and wetness. The pad under me was soaked with amniotic fluid.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">With the rupture of the amniotic sac the pains were excruciating, coming in grinding waves that threatened to overwhelm me. "Oh, God," I begged, "help me now." Finally a nurse came down the hall and glanced in my room. Suddenly she stopped. "Are you pushing?" she demanded, alarm on her face.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">"I feel like I have to have a bowel movement," I grunted. Quickly she checked me and hurried out.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">In the meantime, Tom had finished admitting me. Needing to answer the call of nature, he headed into the restroom, only to be confused by the sight of a sanitary napkin dispenser on the wall. It wasn't until he saw two women chuckling outside the restroom that he realized in his excitement he'd wandered into the women's restroom!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Upstairs at last, Tom tiptoed into my room and smiled at me. "I'm so glad you're here," I exclaimed. "Please don't say anything, just be with me."</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">"Ok," he agreed and immediately launched into the story of his misadventure in the restroom. I smiled inside and let him chatter.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Two nurses hurried in and hastily wheeled me into the delivery room. I wasn't afraid, just desperate to have the pain end. Tom positioned himself at the head of the delivery table and place his hands on either side of my face. They felt wonderfully cool on my hot cheeks. Everything had happened so quickly he hadn't had a chance to do any of the coaching we'd learned about, but I was so grateful for his presence.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">At last Dr. Yoon said I could push and push I did, with all my might. To my utter delight, and miracle of miracles, at precisely 1:11 p.m. a warm, wet baby exploded from my body and out into the world. He was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen., I adored him immediately and have been crazy in love with him ever since.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">At visiting hours that evening Tom brought me a vase with two flowers in it. One was an open rose representing, he said, my life which was already in bloom and a tightly furled rosebud, symbollizing Douglas' life which was just beginning.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Each evening of the six fdays we were in the hospital I would ask Tom if he'd eaten any of the chili I'd prepared and each evening he'd say no, he'd eaten at his mother's or my mother's or somebody had brought him supper. The night before we were to be discharged he decided he'd better eat some of it. Much to his surprise, cooking in the slow cooker for six days had rendered the chili so hot even the dog wouldn't eat it. Needless to say, the next time I went into labor I did not make chili!</div>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-60503846109437699822008-07-15T10:43:00.000-07:002008-07-15T10:57:19.186-07:00Baby Update<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaQgej20CZXZmyoqlLBh2wSOzQmCj0CG_qLZw31edOoq0PoC5Y5GbkZzxPYEegyjriA1qZtuEszXIIywqwDmuU0PDgz1e_UV6sc1jdrZM9_aT0_rR4LeqFfIwF-klzR7rcnBarsitefo/s1600-h/Doug+and+babies.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223298643594328818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaQgej20CZXZmyoqlLBh2wSOzQmCj0CG_qLZw31edOoq0PoC5Y5GbkZzxPYEegyjriA1qZtuEszXIIywqwDmuU0PDgz1e_UV6sc1jdrZM9_aT0_rR4LeqFfIwF-klzR7rcnBarsitefo/s320/Doug+and+babies.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><div>Our granddaughters will be a year and a half tomorrow and Douglas sent us some photos of them. Of course, Grandma thinks they are the sweetest little girls ever born!</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223298928900496610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="322" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBqZUEJ5KFHKzkLp0_G8p_YSnKPZ2MkU9XD3UTJ9QMlVSr5QWN5tHRjnKF4ghj_vmWS41q_o0MK3wjr22iVAY4WWCLrZBu9L7dR3LR9grb4Ibl3YK16tgvjVRTurKpqNr12ZDhQE8YGQ/s320/Lakyn+blue+eyes.jpg" width="239" border="0" /><br />Lakyn Cole Misch</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223299596085722802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGpBPyoC52Ju8pH4FVuWQJGWjogtdLz6dOev_gU8NR3Lm-EX2U_FOTmsogAWvn7UpsiQLzkg40HM9sCc8Me9s-VBj25QZeT3oJPk5l7i6US-OAheuaQW1hDTGwqEM1IO5uFPepQ9ErVY/s320/Lakyn+July2008.jpg" border="0" /><br />Lani Carson Misch</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223300103455404402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6TRCoXHvcPjeXhr0aSdujcQEQLx9o4EEpnm3b8QOVzskAf6-MqV426Ifh5OnK2RbhBAvQ9NHoXaXoHACJjisUu1aZDKXOUgIBwtFzeDhAeuGbxnQC7V-8x4KwWbfzBr3yet46wZ58QA/s320/bubbles.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223300413802111474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYrcPWfalyEI7_iHkQXNlazOhDdp773Wd6jZiIDzorkTgksRiZVRtG0dWCkq-JZ2WzUhsqldH8_qnlNRROznklorGS7lXfCMLtkBUM9xDh5f8GaYKQu078S13S9UVH4tWD0UfQKLo3Pb8/s320/babies+running.jpg" border="0" /><br />Douglas took these photos with his iPhone. Ain't technology amazin'!<br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-43653711124864354152008-06-25T15:37:00.000-07:002008-06-25T15:39:13.943-07:00Have You Started Your Shopping Yet?Exactly six months from today is Christmas!Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-38996633194471700622008-06-17T08:27:00.000-07:002008-06-17T08:55:05.526-07:00Elementary, My Dear Readers!I've always enjoyed Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. When we were first married Tom gave me a thick book with small print that contained all the stories and I read it cover to cover. I loved that book. Saturday I got to see the great detective work his magic in the flesh when Tom and I traveled to the Erie Playhouse for "Sherlock Holmes, the Final Chapter." And there he was, Sherlock Holmes in person, complete with deerstalker cap, mershaum pipe and violin. He cut a magnificent figure in period costume including a floor length cape. And of course we got to hear him utter those famous lines "elementary, my dear Watson," and "the game's afoot!"<br />The play was narrated by an elderly Dr. Watson just as in the book. The only woman who ever got the better of Holmes, Irene Adler, figured prominently in the play as did his nemesis Professor Moriarity. As in any good piece of fiction, the ending was delightfully twisted. We had a great time.<br />On Sunday afternoon we went to University Hospitals in Cleveland to visit Tom's dad who had undergone surgery for an abdominal aortic aneurism. Much to our pleasure he is doing quite well. Monday he transferred to a nursing home for a couple weeks of rehabilitation. We're planning to visit him today after Tom gets off work.<br />All in all, a nice weekend.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-92034569934266445082008-06-12T12:05:00.000-07:002008-06-12T12:27:41.519-07:00Blogging is Good for YouIn the June 2008 issue of <em>Scientific American </em>an article written by Jessica Wapner states that blogging is good for one's health. She says: <blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>Self-medication may be the reason the blogosphere has taken off. <br />Scientists (and writers) have long known about the therapeutic benefits of<br />writing about personal experiences, thoughts and feelings,. But<br />besides<br />sserving as a stress-coping mechanism, expressive writing<br />produces<br />many<br />physiological benefits. Research shows that it<br />improves memory<br />and sleep,<br />boosts immune cell activity and reduces viral<br />load in AIDS<br />patients, and even<br />speeds healing after surgery A study in<br />the February<br />issue of the <em>Oncologist </em>reports t6hat cancer patients<br />who engaged in<br />expressive wwriting just<br />before treatment felt markedly<br />better, mentally and<br />physically, as compared with<br />patients who did<br />not...Some hospitals have<br />started hosting patient-authored<br />blogs on<br />their Web sites as clinicians<br />begin to recognize the therapeutic<br />value. Unlike a bedside journal,<br />blogging offers the addid benefit<br />of<br />receptive readers in similar<br />situations. Nancy Morgan, author<br />of the<br /><em>Oncologist </em>explains: "Individuals are connecting to one<br />another and<br />witnessing each other's expressions--the basis for forming<br />community."<br /><br />So improve your memory, sleep better and cope with stress---BLOG ON!!Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-66679635432256772982008-06-10T11:40:00.000-07:002008-06-10T11:43:59.367-07:00Look Up!I read this motto at one of my clients' homes:<br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;">Sorrow looks back</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;">Worry looks around</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;">Faith looks up</span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">I need to concentrate less on looking around and more on looking up.</span></div>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-78576045493919142402008-06-10T11:35:00.000-07:002008-06-10T11:39:34.573-07:00Babies in a Tub<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRFYuoCPisv3DR6i_2aO5x-nEGo-z89zZEwFCfDGe7lQQZ9VEgvikF_SJMrXVPcNfQyTyQECNpxym1U_yDi5X9wYfiFgZCs_vU9wf8kkPshTurmzCtKkB1pILwDEUB5xi2AQKjtn6Hrg/s1600-h/babies+in+tub.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210324228072095426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRFYuoCPisv3DR6i_2aO5x-nEGo-z89zZEwFCfDGe7lQQZ9VEgvikF_SJMrXVPcNfQyTyQECNpxym1U_yDi5X9wYfiFgZCs_vU9wf8kkPshTurmzCtKkB1pILwDEUB5xi2AQKjtn6Hrg/s320/babies+in+tub.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Douglas recently sent us the cutest picture of Lakyn and Lani in the bathtub. They'll be seventeen months on June 16.</div><br /><div></div>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-42861675693630154732008-06-10T11:10:00.000-07:002008-06-10T11:32:34.143-07:00A New Baby At Our HouseI had forgotten how much fun a new baby is. Toby is a nine week old Chihuahua puppy who came to live with us on Memorial Day. I'd been wanting a small dog for quite a while so when I saw him advertised in the newspaper I was delighted. He weighs all of 2.4 pounds and is much smaller than his best friend, Tigger the cat.<br /><br /><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210318084496080514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwZuevH5r2v00EKHXOFqp2p3oTBVxGC6CRD0Y9kY1f75WU_N01ZdT97g2Q4LI7PNShonxA96xklj1boX0W2gb247vdU7nUPIaxE6eIfGyv_wOaVxwU5fuuBhTsHSkFc1vITxzWvmnCGFI/s320/baby+Toby+008.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210318536371851458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3xRaXe6d_kxNELw03cCaeQt9Bmcox7lXmvC-ieObKZKIotUpDFU8lhPWjnQKoBh8KnDat6UHYKpwpCVkkEDogqEA8lIJ0Q8o2wZSDWVTdmuykPoiZ-7UX3wk3MBJtG4nWKN6W2yYKCg/s320/baby+Toby+009.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div>He's grey with brown markings and has blue eyes. His home is a cat carrier. It took a while but now he sleeps there quite contentedly. Housebreaking is our current project and it will probably take some time since I read that puppies aren't really aware of their need to eliminate until they're twelve weeks old. Mom says he is training us to take him outside rather than the other way around. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210320574814005346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8UEbKHPZyz64hItE6q_tVacd863S4cN7xWWW1a092EFKh89lNVka93JIHgNux5ufH4mwgMY-rQpq7ekdduzXJVDCbywy5-coUeU-9uNKP8eY0_W5cO3VhIlDSjQa8HWVWbd7CUnoaRZM/s320/baby+Toby+011.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><div>Today Toby got a baby shot and spent the afternoon lying in my lap being miserable. I finally had to convince him to lie on the couch so I could get something accomplished.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210321584885219842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBS3wEB1KRrfJfKMXbubFVQdx3bqORCoUYSp5XN6vtaaAA9Rod5Ri8gnEW_hNp6mnw9DsmR_aWvr0A1JIDvMLSqV38qyuG8vNNCUI-lAVEsRrx15bnDgqwBe0ovJ1Oq3QZrIga4DSImR4/s320/baby+Toby+012.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>As an added bonus, we'll never forget his birthday since it's the same as Douglas', April 3.</div><div> </div></div></div></div>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-87151103214197255842008-05-22T14:20:00.000-07:002008-05-22T15:18:51.156-07:00Scrounging Through Fourteen Years of StuffThis is it. I've decided to bite the proverbial bullet. We moved into our house in 1994 and I was absolutely thrilled at the wonderful amount of storage it had. We owned nowhere near enough stuff to fill all those shelves, not to mention the big ol' closet under the stairs.<br /><br /> In the ensuing years, however, our stuff has been quietly multiplying under cover of darkness (I deny having had anything to do with it whatsoever!) and is threatening to take over the whole house. It's like something alive, silently filling every shelf and closet, spilling over onto every horizontal surface. And there it sits, looking crosseyed at me and sticking its tongue out.<br /><br />Studies have proven that clutter has a deleterious effect on mental health and I know for a fact it depresses me. The problem has been the task is so large I didn't know where to start so I'd decide to wait until tomorrow to begin. Well, today is tomorrow! I have been sorting, tossing, lugging, organizing, you name it. When I got all my photos together that have been taken since our wedding in 1975 I realized the few scrapbooks I've done are just the beginning. I have a project ready for a long cold winter, now that everything's in the same place.<br /><br />I put all my sewing stuff in one place instead of having bits of it here and parts of it there. Since I haven't been in a sewing mood for a while I put the machines and everything in the newly organized closet under the stairs where it will wait happily for the sewing bug to bite me again. All my quilting paraphernalia is tucked away with the rest of the sewing stuff. Now I don't have to feel guilty every time I look at it.<br /><br />While I was gathering things to donate to the thrift shop I decided to cull the coffee mugs. I swear those things mate when nobody's looking! I pulled eleven mugs out of the cupboard and I still have enough to serve a cup of coffee to every friend I have and have one or two left over.<br /><br />I feel very virtuous today--I've made a good start on my personal war against stuff. Look out clutter. I'm on a roll!!Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-55513288464667069252008-05-14T11:31:00.000-07:002008-05-14T11:50:07.446-07:00AHappy Mother's DayI was surprised twice with flowers for Mother's Day this year. Tom brought me a pot of the most beautiful daffodils. The trumpet was initially yellow with white petals but gradually the trumpets turned a delicate peach. Daffodils are <strong>always </strong>welcome and I can't wait to plant them and see them bloom again next year.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200304901302383442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQxs0SGr1IPwlY9XIT3s0_Q_LqI-8uqRwhxU_3v38Tx2Tm9czGWp9Nq-gCplqG_-1a2774CtVrRGsTc233mxTSQOV-MTB1pZAfF999TZtXT5ZjloVjdIAbfdZ_ctHSYdEe-Qo4SYJoRU/s320/Mother's+Day+2008+003.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p></p><br /><p>Douglas, who always left the gift-buying up to his wife and who now is wifeless, actually sent me a stunning basket of spring flowers to go with his always welcome Mother's Day telephone call. He knows his mom and her love for flowers.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200306271396950882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMNDiKEGfK8EL00QuX2HvxaHg1o0VbjNbGQNI60d7PYO46mzbrd416i01VBqSwU8gMX4c5VumczEWRzZt-IMMVGO7SiviI5YTgIH88APX199mtzrJldAmW2BNT0IAwBN-oQGm7GzvIWQ/s320/Mother's+Day+2008+001.JPG" border="0" /> And Tommy called me on the phone and sent me a beautiful card he'd made himself. So I had a very happy Mother's Day. </p>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-31480638590891672162008-05-13T13:21:00.000-07:002008-05-13T13:59:00.908-07:00Mother's HandsThe theme of our church's Mother's Day banquet this year was "Mother's Hands" and it got me thinking about my own mother's hands. One of my earliest memories is the feel of Mom's hands on my feverish forehead. They were cool and smooth and I was comforted and confident all would be well because Mom was there. I remember watching her wipe away over and over<br />the spiders Scott thought were crawling on him one night when he was so sick he was delirious.<br /><br />When I was a youngster I had a headful of the snarliest hair imaginable. Mom used to tell me I had rats' nests in my curls. Her hands carefully untangled the mess day after day, smoothing my hair into long banana curls or pigtails.<br /><br />Her hands bathed me and my brothers nightly after we'd spent the day in the sandbox or in Jeff's case, tramping through the pasture. As luck would have it the three of us got the chickenpox all at once and I have a vivid picture of her hands gently washing us, careful not to cause any more trauma to our very itchy selves. Scott requested that she wash the pox off but not even a mother's hands could do that!<br /><br />Mom's hands were rarely still. They were always rolling out pie dough, spooning cookie dough onto sheets, ironing basketsful of shirts and pillowcases, holding books as she read to us, administering cough syrup to one of us, dishing up supper, or pulling weeds. Making jam; canning jars and jars of tomato juice, green beans, and peaches; washing mountains of laundry, sewing dresses for me, then teaching me to sew for myself; all these were accomplished by my mother's hands.<br /><br />Little has changed in the intervening years. Her hands are still busy as ever, often in the service of others. They still bake cookies and pies, do laundry, sweep, dust and scrub bathrooms. Often when she tells me what she has accomplished of a morning I am ashamed of my own pitiful accomplishments in the same time.<br /><br />"She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also and he praises her. Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all." Proverbs 31; 27-29<br /><br />Happy Mother's Day, Mom!Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-32013693518448560162008-05-08T12:43:00.000-07:002008-05-08T12:55:07.065-07:00I'm Back!!The last two weeks have been hectic and I haven't had the inclination to write anything. I'm ready to begin again so here goes. I had copied this prayer some time ago and just found it again today while trying to sort through the ubiquitous clutter on my desk.<br /><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><p align="center">St. Theresa's Prayer</p></blockquote><p align="center">May there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this Presence settle into your bones and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. He is there for each and every one of us. </p><p align="left">And I found this little bit of advice in an email I received: Live Simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.</p><p align="left"> </p></blockquote>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-33482375458418574732008-04-22T12:21:00.000-07:002008-04-22T12:32:39.827-07:00Tired of Being FatI take a lot of supplements and several prescription meds. I've decided if I'm really trying to be healthy it makes no sense not to lose weight. Last year I lost 48 pounds and I'd like to lose at least enough to make it a cool one hundred. I hate going to meetings but like the Weight Watchers plan. You are assigned a given number of points you can eat every day, based on your height and weight. When you've eaten that many points you're done for the day. So I joined WW online. I have a daily point total of 25. A Dairy Queen cheeseburger is eight points and a McDonald's ice cream cone is 2 points. A banana is also 2 points. Anyway it seems sensible to me. So now you know my secret: I'm walking and eating sensibly. I want to be here to go to my granddaughters' college graduation.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-80019387166728604062008-04-21T07:29:00.000-07:002008-04-21T07:40:43.950-07:00"Going For a Walk" vs "Exercise"Why does walking down the road alone seem like exercise but pushing a wheelchair feels like merely taking a pleasant stroll? Thursday I took Maggie, my little patient, for a walk around the block in her wheelchair. The sun was shining warmly above us and a breeze was blowing. We just kept walking; we walked around that silly block three times! We watched a squirrel scampering in a pile of limbs and sticks left from the ice storm, admired a little boy's new bike and shiny helmet and enjoyed a patch of daffodils. We walked as long as I do when I do it for exercise but I didn't want to go in I was having such a nice time! Maggie doesn't talk but I'm sure she was loving it, too.<br /><br />Why, I wonder, don't I enjoy my "exercise walks" this much? Maybe I need to get a wheelchair to push. Or a cute little dog to walk.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-28140956902575352602008-04-16T07:31:00.001-07:002008-04-16T07:50:27.723-07:00A New HabitOne of the mental illnesses I deal with is anxiety. According to all the sources I read as well as my therapist harping on it, exercise is one of the best ways to cope with it. Monday I had a particularly difficult day and in desperation decided to give it a try. You have to know that to me exercise has equaled punishment. I am a slug and am the first to admit it. But like I said, I was desperate. So I went for a walk. It's a mile from our house to the lake so I trudged along til I got to Lake Road then turned around and trudged back. Well, it made me feel so much better I did it again yesterday. I keep thinking about the endorphins and the increase in neurotransmitters in my brain and the studies that say regular exercise helps stave off dementia. Plus, after it's over I just feel better. Hopefully, I've started a healthy new habit.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-17742498569254083412008-04-16T07:31:00.000-07:002008-04-16T07:38:11.277-07:00They Come From A Pink ChickenTommy and I were standing in line at the deli counter the other day when he spied a dish of pickled eggs. "Pink eggs!" he exclaimed. "Where did they get pink eggs?" I explained they were pickled but I'm not sure he believed me--they sure didn't look green like pickles. So I bought one for him. He ate the whole thing and professed to like it. I guess it's true we learn something new every day.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-51705170827779102872008-04-09T13:50:00.000-07:002008-04-09T14:15:35.686-07:00An Unexpected Visitor<div><div>Just as I was getting ready to go to Judi's to work this afternoon I glanced outside and there on the deck was a big fat squirrel. We had put a bin of old birdseed out there and he was chowing down on it. I grabbed the camera and took a couple of pictures of him. I hope he eats the whole bin!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187356148181377826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIhgwWDve2rY9c1vBJTp06zDlbcv29Tx0g9WIUJyrpeTz05OSsv_P5LrdD96rHWGT-FZ4XE8-8D6W_IwyASbDghLNFxw2xHm_mFA2vtsOSsZJ4n_7zj3BCF_V7JX6lCLF51E0Qpm05Io/s320/squirrel+4-9-08+002.JPG" border="0" /></div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187356826786210610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="240" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUX_lULdDMwRzcDcN49bWJ5JVfOogxfF7_Pssca8CnbOMpn18Y4q1pVCuBFNaCurdi2TtbHe8Ku4mdE-Bfimy09b86SHcdLELpBwp6JePOPXOD6Bp1Vp2sIdjsOpLk_6dAWdcB9Ki4r8/s320/squirrel+4-9-08+001.JPG" width="320" border="0" />Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-89518303895872046892008-04-09T11:06:00.000-07:002008-04-09T11:15:13.206-07:00A PrayerI've been reading from <em>The Divine Hours, Prayers for Springtime,</em> which has a liturgical bent. The prayers often say what I want to say but much more eloquently. Here's one I read today.<br /><blockquote></blockquote><span style="color:#009900;">O God, whose blessed Son made himself known to his disciples in the breaking of bread: Open the eyes of my faith, that I may behold him in all his redeeming work; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">And this verse: You strengthen me more and more; you enfold and comfort me. Ps 71:21</span><br /><blockquote><br /> </blockquote>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-84886583553311084952008-04-08T14:29:00.000-07:002008-04-08T14:49:01.733-07:00She's A Bad Influence...What a beautiful spring day this has been!! My thermometer says 75 and I believe it. I have 3 or 4 daffodils about to burst open. My late mother-in-law used to tell me it had to snow 3 times on the daffodils before spring had really arrived. I hope that's not the case this year.<br /><br />I spent the afternoon shopping with Julia Gurnee at the Millcreek Mall. It had been along time since I shopped with anyone but Tom, but it was fun to poke around the stores with another woman. After lunch at Cracker Barrel we hit AC Moore for candles-what a bargain-then went to Christopher and Banks. Afterward we stopped at CJ Banks (the Christopher and Banks for those of us whose size begins with X), where I bought a summer sweater for myself. Then it was on to The Children's Place. I found some adorable dresses and T-shirts for my granddaughters. If I'd been independently wealthy those girls would have had a whole new wardrobe! I think Julia was a bad influence on me; I rarely buy anything from a store that doesn't have "mart" in its title.<br /><br />I learned something, too, on our outing: it is possible to go to Erie without stopping at Barnes and Noble! Go figure.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-25150034306761768392008-04-02T10:55:00.000-07:002008-04-02T11:47:36.602-07:00Another Good BookSometimes writing this blog drives me crazy! I just finished a post about <em>Christ the Lord, Road to Cana.</em> I had proofread and tweaked and fussed til I had it just the way I wanted it. Then I clicked on the wrong thing and it all disappeared. Aarrrghhhh. Oh, well. Suffice it to say that this book was a great sequel to <em>Christ the Lord, Out of Egypt. </em>It tells the story of Jesus' continuing discovery of his life's work and his place in God's redeeming plan for mankind. Though not gospel, it is a fascinating read, one I would recommend to anyone wanting to know more about Jesus.<br /><br />Now if I can click on the right thing I will publish this post before it, too, disappears.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-74949992354161114802008-03-26T07:42:00.000-07:002008-03-26T07:45:11.842-07:00New Telephone NumbersWe recently cancelled our land line and are relying solely on our cell phones. My number is<br />440-813-9287 and Tom's is 440-813-9273. Just thought you might want to know.Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-83074363198845979062008-03-25T14:49:00.000-07:002008-03-25T15:10:26.880-07:00Finally Finished!<div><div>Friday Tom laid the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ERtDvjE94My5Xy97wRLaQ0OF1LIHDT7AjbHpBWAXyAktmFoHTgZ5pJBMH29Kq-OhUCPGFVxRnvyBStpPwnnanj6hiPaFfc2pmgQ-vtwcyOgbTLXOX2oMXI7FEB2SM6p8hClORJ-PV5c/s1600-h/Tommy's+room+003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181804074005746658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ERtDvjE94My5Xy97wRLaQ0OF1LIHDT7AjbHpBWAXyAktmFoHTgZ5pJBMH29Kq-OhUCPGFVxRnvyBStpPwnnanj6hiPaFfc2pmgQ-vtwcyOgbTLXOX2oMXI7FEB2SM6p8hClORJ-PV5c/s320/Tommy's+room+003.JPG" border="0" /></a>tile in Tommy's bedroom. He had wanted an Ohio State Buckeyes motif and he got it. I stenciled a big ole Brutus on one wall and an "Ohio State Buckeyes" border all around the top of the room. He has a large Ohio State rug, an Ohio State pillow, flag and wastebasket. I had made an Ohio State quilt for him a year or so ago and we put that on his bed. Iwas pleased with the way the room turned out and so was Tommy. He carefully arranged his treasures and stuffed animals on the shelves and kept going into the room to look at it. But....when it came time to go to bed he slept on the couch! Go figure!</div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181803489890194386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWV34biLt3JgkkVwiblvhIKLYZlLS03CWZO_RAQ6gBrZzraJDaahtl1iz958_Bqmbnd2luwu8jqehnPCbYP8LdNNcppEWo9JBP1mAX1hEMwmjYRx86cXoOnogUtmsK8O23HETfAcmQtWQ/s320/Tommy's+room+006.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPKMtW3776NUlzl-m6W-ylvCvdurz28TkddcUv9N265ikLyY5Oshv-3pKafAgFswiC6qVY7r2vXqY6q5I6ZJZU2Cp40Ix_cUM6yDXefs9V01B8z4Rz8JIawZIglov2I5FRfGxczZLjTs/s1600-h/Tommy's+room+002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181800457643283394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPKMtW3776NUlzl-m6W-ylvCvdurz28TkddcUv9N265ikLyY5Oshv-3pKafAgFswiC6qVY7r2vXqY6q5I6ZJZU2Cp40Ix_cUM6yDXefs9V01B8z4Rz8JIawZIglov2I5FRfGxczZLjTs/s320/Tommy's+room+002.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My stenciling. I'm not as fast climbing up and down a stepladder as I used to be.</div></div>Cindyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961noreply@blogger.com1