<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:05:06.174-07:00</updated><category term='I wonder. don&apos;t I enjoy my&quot;exercise&quot; walks'/><category term='Why'/><title type='text'>Now that I'm fifty</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>60</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-7161967683756197089</id><published>2008-08-22T10:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T11:01:45.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rest of Our Mini Vacation</title><content type='html'>On 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! &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237400458962351826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK779-7rNtI/AAAAAAAAAG0/pYP8MaE9_mE/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+048.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a bazillion pictures of the planes. Here are just a few of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237401033860185570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK78fcl__eI/AAAAAAAAAG8/bXmXZ7DNj_I/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+049.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237401757528355218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK79Jkd78ZI/AAAAAAAAAHE/QQfvufaJ17M/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+055.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237402364564783218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK79s52swHI/AAAAAAAAAHM/XaORFMl0sOE/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+051.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237402878272688066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK7-KzkNT8I/AAAAAAAAAHU/3Wu1ZlM5xJw/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+053.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This museum is a "must see" for aviation and history buffs alike.  I can't wait for our next visit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-7161967683756197089?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/7161967683756197089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=7161967683756197089' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7161967683756197089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7161967683756197089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/08/rest-of-our-mini-vacation.html' title='The Rest of Our Mini Vacation'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK779-7rNtI/AAAAAAAAAG0/pYP8MaE9_mE/s72-c/safari+and+airforce+museum+048.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-2964685557103570792</id><published>2008-08-21T13:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T14:50:36.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Did On My Summer Vacation</title><content type='html'>Tom 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.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237080164041202482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK3YqXXrmzI/AAAAAAAAAGE/L243WZgBkXU/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+035.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237080811397037042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK3ZQC9Vu_I/AAAAAAAAAGM/flCmWQ-frus/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+039.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237081669873224850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK3aCBCAzJI/AAAAAAAAAGU/NsmyyUMAo2E/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+037.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;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 &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237086667172029058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="238" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK3ek5a5IoI/AAAAAAAAAGc/2d_RnFqXgYw/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+012.JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;some I've forgotten or didn't know the name of.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237089590392572386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="239" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK3hPDQ-yeI/AAAAAAAAAGs/RpJl81TTjBQ/s320/safari+and+airforce+museum+040.JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-2964685557103570792?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/2964685557103570792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=2964685557103570792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/2964685557103570792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/2964685557103570792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-i-did-on-my-summer-vacation_21.html' title='What I Did On My Summer Vacation'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SK3YqXXrmzI/AAAAAAAAAGE/L243WZgBkXU/s72-c/safari+and+airforce+museum+035.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4570588733071120058</id><published>2008-08-21T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T13:55:16.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Did On My Summer Vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4570588733071120058?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4570588733071120058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4570588733071120058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4570588733071120058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4570588733071120058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-i-did-on-my-summer-vacation.html' title='What I Did On My Summer Vacation'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-1071721119033703209</id><published>2008-08-01T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T11:46:24.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Douglas' Birth Story</title><content type='html'>I am doing a project for my granddaughters.  I have a book entitled &lt;em&gt;For My Grandchild, A Grandmother's Gift of Memory.  &lt;/em&gt;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!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"I feel like I have to have a bowel movement," I grunted.  Quickly she checked me and hurried out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Ok," he agreed and immediately launched into the story of his misadventure in the restroom.  I smiled inside and let him chatter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-1071721119033703209?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/1071721119033703209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=1071721119033703209' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1071721119033703209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1071721119033703209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/08/douglas-birth-story.html' title='Douglas&apos; Birth Story'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-6050384610943769982</id><published>2008-07-15T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T10:57:19.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SHzicS84OvI/AAAAAAAAAFc/wrq0DKog73g/s1600-h/Doug+and+babies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223298643594328818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SHzicS84OvI/AAAAAAAAAFc/wrq0DKog73g/s320/Doug+and+babies.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223298928900496610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="322" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SHzis5zK3OI/AAAAAAAAAFk/LOCrPUm1Pto/s320/Lakyn+blue+eyes.jpg" width="239" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lakyn Cole Misch&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223299596085722802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SHzjTvQhfrI/AAAAAAAAAFs/MEOSt6u7vTg/s320/Lakyn+July2008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lani Carson Misch&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223300103455404402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SHzjxRW4cXI/AAAAAAAAAF0/g28VqR9AxeU/s320/bubbles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223300413802111474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SHzkDVfTYfI/AAAAAAAAAF8/AlqoRXrUwJY/s320/babies+running.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Douglas took these photos with his iPhone.  Ain't technology amazin'!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-6050384610943769982?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/6050384610943769982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=6050384610943769982' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6050384610943769982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6050384610943769982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/07/baby-update.html' title='Baby Update'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SHzicS84OvI/AAAAAAAAAFc/wrq0DKog73g/s72-c/Doug+and+babies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4365371112486435415</id><published>2008-06-25T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T15:39:13.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have You Started Your Shopping Yet?</title><content type='html'>Exactly six months from today is Christmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4365371112486435415?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4365371112486435415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4365371112486435415' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4365371112486435415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4365371112486435415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/06/have-you-started-your-shopping-yet.html' title='Have You Started Your Shopping Yet?'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-3899663319447170062</id><published>2008-06-17T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T08:55:05.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Elementary, My Dear Readers!</title><content type='html'>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!"&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;All in all, a nice weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-3899663319447170062?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/3899663319447170062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=3899663319447170062' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3899663319447170062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3899663319447170062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/06/elementary-my-dear-readers.html' title='Elementary, My Dear Readers!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-9203456993426644508</id><published>2008-06-12T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T12:27:41.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging is Good for You</title><content type='html'>In the June 2008 issue of &lt;em&gt;Scientific American &lt;/em&gt;an article written by Jessica Wapner states that blogging is good for one's health.  She says: &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Self-medication may be the reason the blogosphere has taken off. &lt;br /&gt;Scientists (and writers) have long known about the therapeutic benefits of&lt;br /&gt;writing about personal experiences, thoughts and feelings,.  But&lt;br /&gt;besides&lt;br /&gt;sserving as a stress-coping mechanism, expressive writing&lt;br /&gt;produces&lt;br /&gt;many&lt;br /&gt;physiological benefits.  Research shows that it&lt;br /&gt;improves memory&lt;br /&gt;and sleep,&lt;br /&gt;boosts immune cell activity and reduces viral&lt;br /&gt;load in AIDS&lt;br /&gt;patients, and even&lt;br /&gt;speeds healing after surgery A study in&lt;br /&gt;the February&lt;br /&gt;issue of the &lt;em&gt;Oncologist &lt;/em&gt;reports t6hat cancer patients&lt;br /&gt;who engaged in&lt;br /&gt;expressive wwriting just&lt;br /&gt;before treatment felt markedly&lt;br /&gt;better, mentally and&lt;br /&gt;physically, as compared with&lt;br /&gt;patients who did&lt;br /&gt;not...Some hospitals have&lt;br /&gt;started hosting patient-authored&lt;br /&gt;blogs on&lt;br /&gt;their Web sites as clinicians&lt;br /&gt;begin to recognize the therapeutic&lt;br /&gt;value.  Unlike a bedside journal,&lt;br /&gt;blogging offers the addid benefit&lt;br /&gt;of&lt;br /&gt;receptive readers in similar&lt;br /&gt;situations.  Nancy Morgan, author&lt;br /&gt;of the&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oncologist &lt;/em&gt;explains:  "Individuals are connecting to one&lt;br /&gt;another and&lt;br /&gt;witnessing each other's expressions--the basis for forming&lt;br /&gt;community."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So improve your memory, sleep better and cope with stress---BLOG ON!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-9203456993426644508?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/9203456993426644508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=9203456993426644508' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/9203456993426644508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/9203456993426644508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/06/blogging-is-good-for-you.html' title='Blogging is Good for You'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-6667963543225677298</id><published>2008-06-10T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T11:43:59.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Look Up!</title><content type='html'>I read this motto at one of my clients' homes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Sorrow looks back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Worry looks around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Faith looks up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I need to concentrate less on looking around and more on looking up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-6667963543225677298?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/6667963543225677298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=6667963543225677298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6667963543225677298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6667963543225677298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/06/look-up.html' title='Look Up!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-7857604549391914240</id><published>2008-06-10T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T11:39:34.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Babies in a Tub</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SE7KR6rZPsI/AAAAAAAAAFU/h4XB0VySPC8/s1600-h/babies+in+tub.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210324228072095426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SE7KR6rZPsI/AAAAAAAAAFU/h4XB0VySPC8/s320/babies+in+tub.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Douglas recently sent us the cutest picture of Lakyn and Lani in the bathtub. They'll be seventeen months on June 16.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-7857604549391914240?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/7857604549391914240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=7857604549391914240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7857604549391914240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7857604549391914240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/06/babies-in-tub.html' title='Babies in a Tub'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SE7KR6rZPsI/AAAAAAAAAFU/h4XB0VySPC8/s72-c/babies+in+tub.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4286167569363015473</id><published>2008-06-10T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T11:32:34.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Baby At Our House</title><content type='html'>I 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210318084496080514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SE7EsUEuvoI/AAAAAAAAAE0/-KI5U2pVzs4/s320/baby+Toby+008.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210318536371851458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SE7FGncT0MI/AAAAAAAAAE8/BnYwuk8e-A4/s320/baby+Toby+009.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210320574814005346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SE7G9ROyqGI/AAAAAAAAAFE/mY6d_Szguk8/s320/baby+Toby+011.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210321584885219842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SE7H4ECiQgI/AAAAAAAAAFM/GJ_HYOeGFXc/s320/baby+Toby+012.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As an added bonus, we'll never forget his birthday since it's the same as Douglas', April 3.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4286167569363015473?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4286167569363015473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4286167569363015473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4286167569363015473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4286167569363015473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/06/new-baby-at-our-house.html' title='A New Baby At Our House'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SE7EsUEuvoI/AAAAAAAAAE0/-KI5U2pVzs4/s72-c/baby+Toby+008.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-8715110321419725584</id><published>2008-05-22T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T15:18:51.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scrounging Through Fourteen Years of Stuff</title><content type='html'>This 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-8715110321419725584?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/8715110321419725584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=8715110321419725584' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8715110321419725584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8715110321419725584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/05/scrounging-through-fourteen-years-of.html' title='Scrounging Through Fourteen Years of Stuff'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5551328846466706925</id><published>2008-05-14T11:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T11:50:07.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AHappy Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>I 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 &lt;strong&gt;always &lt;/strong&gt;welcome and I can't wait to plant them and see them bloom again next year.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200304901302383442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SCsxwV3Z81I/AAAAAAAAAEM/Wm18DDNkc-k/s320/Mother%27s+Day+2008+003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;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.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200306271396950882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SCszAF3Z82I/AAAAAAAAAEU/ci1tOdUMt0M/s320/Mother%27s+Day+2008+001.JPG" border="0" /&gt; 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.                                              &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5551328846466706925?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5551328846466706925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5551328846466706925' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5551328846466706925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5551328846466706925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/05/ahappy-mothers-day.html' title='AHappy Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/SCsxwV3Z81I/AAAAAAAAAEM/Wm18DDNkc-k/s72-c/Mother%27s+Day+2008+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-3148063859089167216</id><published>2008-05-13T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T13:59:00.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Hands</title><content type='html'>The 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&lt;br /&gt;the spiders Scott thought were crawling on him one night when he was so sick he was delirious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Mother's Day, Mom!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-3148063859089167216?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/3148063859089167216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=3148063859089167216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3148063859089167216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3148063859089167216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/05/mothers-hands.html' title='Mother&apos;s Hands'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-3201369351844856016</id><published>2008-05-08T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T12:55:07.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back!!</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;St. Theresa's Prayer&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;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. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-3201369351844856016?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/3201369351844856016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=3201369351844856016' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3201369351844856016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3201369351844856016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m Back!!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-3348237545841857473</id><published>2008-04-22T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T12:32:39.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired of Being Fat</title><content type='html'>I 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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-3348237545841857473?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/3348237545841857473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=3348237545841857473' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3348237545841857473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3348237545841857473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/04/tired-of-being-fat.html' title='Tired of Being Fat'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-8001938716672860406</id><published>2008-04-21T07:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T07:40:43.950-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I wonder. don&apos;t I enjoy my&quot;exercise&quot; walks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Why'/><title type='text'>"Going For a Walk" vs "Exercise"</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-8001938716672860406?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/8001938716672860406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=8001938716672860406' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8001938716672860406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8001938716672860406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/04/going-for-walk-vs-exercise.html' title='&quot;Going For a Walk&quot; vs &quot;Exercise&quot;'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-2814095690257535260</id><published>2008-04-16T07:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T07:50:27.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Habit</title><content type='html'>One 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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-2814095690257535260?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/2814095690257535260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=2814095690257535260' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/2814095690257535260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/2814095690257535260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/04/new-habit.html' title='A New Habit'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-1774249856925408341</id><published>2008-04-16T07:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T07:38:11.277-07:00</updated><title type='text'>They Come From A Pink Chicken</title><content type='html'>Tommy 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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-1774249856925408341?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/1774249856925408341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=1774249856925408341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1774249856925408341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1774249856925408341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/04/they-come-from-pink-chicken.html' title='They Come From A Pink Chicken'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5170517082777910287</id><published>2008-04-09T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T14:15:35.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Unexpected Visitor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;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!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187356148181377826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R_0w7tfKIyI/AAAAAAAAAD8/O6QvybBSleE/s320/squirrel+4-9-08+002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187356826786210610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="240" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R_0xjNfKIzI/AAAAAAAAAEE/LskR-2j1fPg/s320/squirrel+4-9-08+001.JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5170517082777910287?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5170517082777910287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5170517082777910287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5170517082777910287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5170517082777910287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/04/unexpected-visitor.html' title='An Unexpected Visitor'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R_0w7tfKIyI/AAAAAAAAAD8/O6QvybBSleE/s72-c/squirrel+4-9-08+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-8951830389587204689</id><published>2008-04-09T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T11:15:13.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Prayer</title><content type='html'>I've been reading from &lt;em&gt;The Divine Hours, Prayers for Springtime,&lt;/em&gt; which has a liturgical bent.  The prayers often say what I want to say but much more eloquently.  Here's one I read today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;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&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;And this verse:  You strengthen me more and more; you enfold and comfort me.  Ps 71:21&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-8951830389587204689?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/8951830389587204689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=8951830389587204689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8951830389587204689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8951830389587204689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/04/prayer.html' title='A Prayer'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-8488658355331108495</id><published>2008-04-08T14:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T14:49:01.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She's A Bad Influence...</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned something, too, on our outing:  it is possible to go to Erie without stopping at Barnes and Noble!  Go figure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-8488658355331108495?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/8488658355331108495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=8488658355331108495' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8488658355331108495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8488658355331108495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/04/shes-bad-influence.html' title='She&apos;s A Bad Influence...'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-2515003430676176839</id><published>2008-04-02T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T11:47:36.602-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Good Book</title><content type='html'>Sometimes writing this blog drives me crazy!  I just finished a post about &lt;em&gt;Christ the Lord, Road to Cana.&lt;/em&gt;  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 &lt;em&gt;Christ the Lord, Out of Egypt.  &lt;/em&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if I can click on the right thing I will publish this post before it, too, disappears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-2515003430676176839?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/2515003430676176839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=2515003430676176839' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/2515003430676176839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/2515003430676176839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/04/another-good-book.html' title='Another Good Book'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-7494999235416111480</id><published>2008-03-26T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T07:45:11.842-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Telephone Numbers</title><content type='html'>We recently cancelled our land line and are relying solely on our cell phones.  My number is&lt;br /&gt;440-813-9287 and Tom's is 440-813-9273.   Just thought you might want to know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-7494999235416111480?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/7494999235416111480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=7494999235416111480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7494999235416111480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7494999235416111480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/new-telephone-numbers.html' title='New Telephone Numbers'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-8307436319884597906</id><published>2008-03-25T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T15:10:26.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally Finished!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday Tom laid the &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-l3WdbI0-I/AAAAAAAAAD0/sOXTCx9SCU8/s1600-h/Tommy%27s+room+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181804074005746658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-l3WdbI0-I/AAAAAAAAAD0/sOXTCx9SCU8/s320/Tommy%27s+room+003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;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!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181803489890194386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-l20dbI09I/AAAAAAAAADs/xnBV97KSd2k/s320/Tommy%27s+room+006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-l0D9bI08I/AAAAAAAAADk/gEPzJ8kNCZM/s1600-h/Tommy%27s+room+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181800457643283394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-l0D9bI08I/AAAAAAAAADk/gEPzJ8kNCZM/s320/Tommy%27s+room+002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My stenciling. I'm not as fast climbing up and down a stepladder as I used to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-8307436319884597906?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/8307436319884597906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=8307436319884597906' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8307436319884597906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8307436319884597906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/finally-finished.html' title='Finally Finished!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-l3WdbI0-I/AAAAAAAAAD0/sOXTCx9SCU8/s72-c/Tommy%27s+room+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-1707230448992696656</id><published>2008-03-20T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T14:02:51.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-LO79bI07I/AAAAAAAAADc/Y43R2L8K0B4/s1600-h/daffodils+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179930050925482930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-LO79bI07I/AAAAAAAAADc/Y43R2L8K0B4/s320/daffodils+001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; For lo, the winter is past,&lt;br /&gt;The rain is over and gone.&lt;br /&gt;The flowers appear on the earth;&lt;br /&gt;The time of singing has come,&lt;br /&gt;And the voice of the turtledove&lt;br /&gt;Is heard in our land.&lt;br /&gt;        Song of Solomon 2: 11-12&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-1707230448992696656?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/1707230448992696656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=1707230448992696656' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1707230448992696656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1707230448992696656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/first-day-of-spring.html' title='First Day of Spring'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-LO79bI07I/AAAAAAAAADc/Y43R2L8K0B4/s72-c/daffodils+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-7027840650147968554</id><published>2008-03-20T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T13:01:09.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Quirky Men</title><content type='html'>I like to observe people and the cafe at Barnes and Noble is a great place to do this.  Tom and I've been watching  two men in particular for a year or so.  They're always seated in the cafe and have text books and papers scattered around them.  Sometimes they seem to be deep in conversation.  Apparently they subscribe to an alternative lifestyle which I don't condone.  They are interesting, however.  They always dress alike and always wear hats, but not your usual baseball caps or cowboy hats.  Oh,no.  Their hats are the quirkiest part of their outfits.  I don't know if they scour thrift shops for them or what but all the hats are weird!  Sometimes they look like something Dr. Seuss would have drawn, with a squiggly thing sticking up out of the top.  One set of hats is purple and looks like the soft kind they make for women undergoing chemotherapy.  And they are colorful-green, purple, etc. One set is a multicolored knit African-appearing thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Much to Tom's and my delight one time they wore matching multicolored bowling shoes.  I'd  like to be a fly on the wall some morning when they are choosing what ensemble to wear for the day.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;One afternoon Tom decided to talk to them.  He found out one is studying for an advanced degree and the other one is a professor of some sort.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;They bike around town on this recumbent tandem  bicycle.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179905891734442914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="279" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-K49tbI06I/AAAAAAAAADU/e-iNcIUe1x0/s320/Erie+miscellaneous+003.JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;They're a ten on my quirk-meter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-7027840650147968554?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/7027840650147968554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=7027840650147968554' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7027840650147968554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7027840650147968554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/two-quirky-men.html' title='Two Quirky Men'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R-K49tbI06I/AAAAAAAAADU/e-iNcIUe1x0/s72-c/Erie+miscellaneous+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-6852917192333637898</id><published>2008-03-20T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T12:08:18.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Women and a Bulk Food Store</title><content type='html'>This morning I decided to run to the bulk food store in Ashtabula to buy chocolate to make Easter treats for my Sunday School kids. I called my mom to see if she would like to go with me.  As it turned out, we were like a couple of kids in a candy store!  We happily poked around among containers of spices, various types of flour, dried fruit, trail mix, teas, flavored coffees, bouillon, bean soup mix, pasta, gluten-free stuff, pudding mix, cookie cutters, teapots, coconut, and, oh yes, chocolate--milk chocolate, dark chocolate, pink chocolate, orange chocolate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After wrenching ourselves out of there without too much damage to our pocketbooks we decided to do lunch. At Steak and Shake the hostess asked how we were related. She shook her head and said to Mom, "You looked just like her twenty years ago."  Mom replied, "Yes and this is what she will look like in another twenty years!"  We ate a great meal then treated ourselves to a junior-sized milkshake.  Steak and Shake's milkshakes are the best!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a stop at the Kingsville Library to return a stack of books we headed home.  It was a very satisfying morning, spending time with Mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-6852917192333637898?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/6852917192333637898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=6852917192333637898' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6852917192333637898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6852917192333637898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/two-women-and-bulk-food-store.html' title='Two Women and a Bulk Food Store'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-7796063773028380120</id><published>2008-03-19T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T10:42:54.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not My Pastor!</title><content type='html'>Within the text of  Senator Obama's speech on race are these words regarding his pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright: &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church?  Yes.  Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views?  Absolutely - just as I'm sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed. &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I would like to tell Senator Obama that my pastor, Rev. Byron Gurnee, has never said anything  controversial within my hearing.  He has more integrity than that.  His example in the pulpit is one of love, not hate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, Mr. Obama, but you do not speak for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-7796063773028380120?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/7796063773028380120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=7796063773028380120' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7796063773028380120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7796063773028380120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/not-my-pastor.html' title='Not My Pastor!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-1124816280710920914</id><published>2008-03-11T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T15:38:10.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spending Time With Kenton</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Today I got to spend some time with my friend Kenton Gurnee after his class field trip to Barnes and Noble.  He showed me his &lt;em&gt;Horton Hears a Who&lt;/em&gt; poster his teacher gave him.  He also received a &lt;em&gt;Horton&lt;/em&gt; button , a sparkley pencil and a sticker.  As excited as he was, it must have been a great field trip.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R9cHHO0vL3I/AAAAAAAAADE/lyKhIPL8ZO0/s1600-h/Kenton+Gurnee+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176614117505445746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R9cHHO0vL3I/AAAAAAAAADE/lyKhIPL8ZO0/s320/Kenton+Gurnee+003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kenton told me he's taller than his measuring poster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R9cGsO0vL2I/AAAAAAAAAC8/i5T3q0D-4UQ/s1600-h/Kenton+Gurnee+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176613653648977762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R9cGsO0vL2I/AAAAAAAAAC8/i5T3q0D-4UQ/s320/Kenton+Gurnee+001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Things look different from different angles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176614757455572866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R9cHse0vL4I/AAAAAAAAADM/ZyOxFwACPCM/s320/Kenton+Gurnee+004.JPG" border="0" /&gt;The future Mensa member works a puzzle while waiting for his lunch to appear at Cracker Barrel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Thanks, Kenton, for a fun morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-1124816280710920914?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/1124816280710920914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=1124816280710920914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1124816280710920914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1124816280710920914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/spending-time-with-kenton.html' title='Spending Time With Kenton'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R9cHHO0vL3I/AAAAAAAAADE/lyKhIPL8ZO0/s72-c/Kenton+Gurnee+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5917688394801599492</id><published>2008-03-07T13:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T14:15:48.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Exciting Book</title><content type='html'>For some time now I've wondered at what point Jesus knew who he was. I've been curious about his childhood, too--did he get sick, did he have friends, was he "normal?"   The Bible gives us so little about him between birth and the Wedding at Cana.  I've wondered about his relationship with his parents and sibling.  I just want to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I found a wonderful book that speaks to my curiosity.  The name of it is &lt;em&gt;Christ the Lord.  &lt;/em&gt;I heard about it a couple years ago but was reluctant to read it because of the author.  Anne Rice usually writes vampire novels and I wasn't sure what kind of Jesus story she might write.  But I was in the library the other day and decided to take a chance on it.  What a treat.  The story is told from the viewpoint of a seven or eight year old Jesus.  It begins when Joseph is told of God in a dream to return to Nazareth, that King Herod is dead.  Jesus hears his extended family talking about when they went to Exodus in the first place.  Jesus is very curious.  He knows he was born in Bethlehem but no one will tell him what happened to cause them to leave the Holy Land for Egypt.  Joseph assures him that he will tell Jesus when he's older.  We are with Jesus as he sees the Temple for the first time.  We sit with him as he studies under the rabbis and Pharisees, learning about the history of the Jews and memorizing psalms and prayers...&lt;strong&gt;hear, oh Israel, the Lord our God is one.  &lt;/strong&gt;Gradually he comes to realize he has different abilities from other boys.  He prays for his critically ill uncle and the uncle is completely healed.  He wishes it would stop raining and it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book is, of course, fiction, but it's a good example of how it might have happened.  Anne Rice is a Catholic so she treats Mary as a perpetual virgin, explaining that James, Jesus' brother is Joseph's son by a previous marriage and his other brothers and sisters are adopted when their mother dies.  Joseph seems to be okay with this arrangement.  It's certainly not gospel but a great read.  Rice has a new book out that starts with the Wedding at Cana.  I cannot wait to read it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5917688394801599492?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5917688394801599492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5917688394801599492' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5917688394801599492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5917688394801599492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/exciting-book.html' title='An Exciting Book'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4079369623921299572</id><published>2008-03-07T13:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T13:39:24.435-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4079369623921299572?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4079369623921299572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4079369623921299572' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4079369623921299572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4079369623921299572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html' title='An'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5672802092904761362</id><published>2008-03-07T11:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T11:18:05.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Snow!!!!</title><content type='html'>Cleveland's Channel 5 News is predicting 17 more inches of snow for us by 3am Sunday morning!  After finally getting our power back that is not what I wanted to hear.  I headed to Orlando's Golden Dawn for "a few things to tide us over" and ended up spending $93.00 and I didn't even buy any chocolate!  It amazes me that I spend the same amount of money on groceries as I did when the boys were home.  Prices are simply out of sight.  Anyway, half of Conneaut decided they needed to stock up before the storm, too.  There should have been a traffic cop in front of the deli.  I quickly decided that we did &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; need sliced ham or turkey breast.  If Tom wants a sandwich it'll have to be egg salad or, my favorite, pb&amp;amp;j.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I lied, I did get some chocolate of sorts.  I bought two packs of Klondike bars.  I adore ice cream and the Klondike bars allow me a reasonable serving.  If I had a half gallon to dip from it could spell disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have four visits with Judi today and two tomorrow so I'll be out in the snow for sure.  I really don't mind, though.  She was at her sister's during the last storm so I had nothing to do, except for housework...ugh.  I missed working.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5672802092904761362?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5672802092904761362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5672802092904761362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5672802092904761362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5672802092904761362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/more-snow.html' title='More Snow!!!!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-821150328210787</id><published>2008-03-05T08:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T08:32:46.539-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rough Night</title><content type='html'>This ice storm is the pits.  When Tom got home from work last evening he said the roads were treacherous and he "white-knuckled it" all the way home.  After we were in bed, settled down for the night, he got a call from Plastpro where he works, saying they had no power.  After he and the plant manager pow-wowed they decided they should go in to check it out.  So he left home at 11 pm to secure the place.  He ended up changing his route due to all the downed tree limbs, all the time phoned to ask him to call all the maintenance crew not to come in, since there still was no power.  The power company said there would be no electricity at least until tomorrow morning.  Tom thinks he needs a nap.  I wonder why!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're having a nice day, reading and drinking coffee and generally playing bookstore.  Tomorrow it'll be back to work as usual, but today it's a quiet relaxing day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-821150328210787?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/821150328210787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=821150328210787' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/821150328210787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/821150328210787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/03/rough-night.html' title='A Rough Night'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-6767887511390068318</id><published>2008-02-29T07:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T07:39:11.917-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now That I'm Older.....</title><content type='html'>It's fun to read other people's blogs and I found this piece on Tacomom's blog.  I don't know who she is but I hope she doesn't mind my borrowing her entry.  I can sure identify with it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOW THAT I'M OLDER...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000000;"&gt;...HERE'S WHAT I DISCOVERED:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;1. I started out with nothing and I still have most of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;2. My wild oats have turned into prunes and All Bran.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;3. I finally got my head together; now my body is falling apart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;4. Funny, I don't remember being absent minded...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;5. Funny, I don't remember being absent minded&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What were we talking about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. It's easier to get older than it is to get wiser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Some days you're the dog; some days you're the hydrant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I wish the buck stopped here; I sure could use a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. It's hard to make a comeback when you haven't been anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. The only time the world beats a path to your door is when you're in the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. If God wanted me to touch my toes he would have put them on my knees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. When I'm finally holding all the cards why does everyone else decide to play chess?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. It's not hard to meet expenses--they're everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. These days I spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter...I go into a room and wonder what I'm here after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. If all is not lost then where is it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-6767887511390068318?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/6767887511390068318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=6767887511390068318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6767887511390068318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6767887511390068318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/now-that-im-older.html' title='Now That I&apos;m Older.....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-1548249020022684699</id><published>2008-02-28T06:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T06:29:55.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Matter of Perspective</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.   &lt;/em&gt;Roger Miller&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-1548249020022684699?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/1548249020022684699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=1548249020022684699' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1548249020022684699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1548249020022684699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/matter-of-perspective.html' title='A Matter of Perspective'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4789923761785113536</id><published>2008-02-28T05:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T06:23:56.651-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Perfect Day</title><content type='html'>Tuesday was perfect. Tom and I both had the day off so we decided to celebrate my birthday. We began at Perkins where I had, what else, pancakes. Then we headed to the Ashtabula Mall where we signed a two year hitch with Verizon, having decided it was probably time to get with the program and join the twenty first century. My number, by the way, is 440-813-9287.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time we left the mall it was snowing pretty hard and I thought maybe we should just go home. But Tom looked at me like I was crazy and we set off as planned for Erie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172022333171257938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R8a26NMPUlI/AAAAAAAAAB0/oGnD0Nn8Rvo/s320/IMG_0114.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Interstate 90&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We dined at Olive Garden for lunch. I always enjoy their &lt;em&gt;zuppa tuscana &lt;/em&gt;which is a fancy way of saying potato and sausage soup. That combined with salad and bread sticks is a wonderful lunch as far as I'm concerned. We shared a slice of lemon crumb cake and then it was time for the main part of my birthday celebration---Barnes and Noble!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call us boring if you must, but we never tire of going to B&amp;amp;N. I had a specific goal in mind--my birthday present! Recently I bought a subscription to &lt;em&gt;National Review &lt;/em&gt;which I enjoy very much except for the times I don't know what a word means and can't figure it out by context. My little paperback dictionary hasn't been much help either. I had been coveting a wonderful 2 volume dictionary and decided my fifty-first birthday was the perfect time to buy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172027246613844578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R8a7YNMPUmI/AAAAAAAAAB8/uZY7idQ9wZA/s320/IMG_0117.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Me with my big ol' dictionary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Maybe it's the relative quiet, the foofy coffee beverages, or the lack of dirty laundry crying out to be washed that make B&amp;amp;N's cafe so conducive to talking but we must have talked the better part of two hours. By the time we left the store we'd swilled plenty of coffee and solved many of the world's problems! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172029720515007090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R8a9oNMPUnI/AAAAAAAAACE/nyp4gg2blWU/s320/IMG_0122.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I love it when Tom drinks those dainty cups of espresso!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172031043364934274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="247" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R8a-1NMPUoI/AAAAAAAAACM/ssy4FRNWXFg/s320/IMG_0126.JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Chocolate cafe' mocha for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;After a stop at Office Max to research software, we headed back down the highway for Conneaut. Tom stopped at Orlando's Golden Dawn and surprised me with a birthday cake. When we got home we had fun trying to get 51 candles lit. When we did it made an impressive blaze!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172033783554069138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R8bBUtMPUpI/AAAAAAAAACU/E9ypl8GkTbM/s320/IMG_0133.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Call the fire department!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;All in all it made for a day I'll remember for along time to come.  Thanks, Tom, for a perfect day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4789923761785113536?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4789923761785113536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4789923761785113536' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4789923761785113536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4789923761785113536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/perfect-day.html' title='A Perfect Day'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R8a26NMPUlI/AAAAAAAAAB0/oGnD0Nn8Rvo/s72-c/IMG_0114.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-6689909169850375362</id><published>2008-02-21T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T07:41:28.951-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lunar Eclipse</title><content type='html'>Last night it was my turn to put Judi to bed.  Tom had told me about the beautiful full moon and I was looking for it as I headed for Judi's.  But instead of just a full moon I saw the eclipse!  It was beautiful. Over the course of an hour I watched it cover more and more of the moon. By the time I got home the eclipse was nearly complete and my mind turned to the scriptures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have ordained,  what is man that you are mindful of him?  Psalm 8:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;What a gift it was to witness such a reminder of God's power. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-6689909169850375362?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/6689909169850375362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=6689909169850375362' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6689909169850375362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6689909169850375362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/lunar-eclipse.html' title='Lunar Eclipse'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5907910425835550647</id><published>2008-02-17T15:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T15:33:12.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secret Sister</title><content type='html'>I received my first secret sister gift this week.  It was a heart-shaped box filled with chocolate candy!  I have enjoyed it immensely.  I'd been so fixated on the gift I was giving to my s.s. that I didn't think that someone would give me a gift, too.  It was a terrific day lifter and ...CHOCOLATE. Yum.  The strange thing is I keep wanting to thank someone but I don't know who to thank.  And I keep wondering if the lady I sent a gift to liked it.  In a year it will all be revealed!!  In the meantime it's great fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5907910425835550647?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5907910425835550647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5907910425835550647' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5907910425835550647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5907910425835550647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/secret-sister.html' title='Secret Sister'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-3954755215013788166</id><published>2008-02-17T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T15:17:07.069-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Cats</title><content type='html'>Animals are like kids, sometimes they don't get along but when they do it is so cute. I went downstairs today to find Sarah Jane and Tigger curled up in a chair together, "holding hands."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168089414438441458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7i98NMPUfI/AAAAAAAAABE/5FUxRGPYpVA/s320/IMG_0088.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168091244094509570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7i_mtMPUgI/AAAAAAAAABM/cgh3aR0PmB0/s320/IMG_0089.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;They're usually good cats but today they were positively angelic!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-3954755215013788166?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/3954755215013788166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=3954755215013788166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3954755215013788166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/3954755215013788166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/happy-cats.html' title='Happy Cats'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7i98NMPUfI/AAAAAAAAABE/5FUxRGPYpVA/s72-c/IMG_0088.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-805875708237639127</id><published>2008-02-16T17:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-16T18:05:41.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit With the Grandbabies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Last weekend Tom and I traveled to West Virginia to see Lakyn and Lani. I took over sixty pictures! They are so cute and so much fun. Grandma introduced them to chocolate--they loved their cake. Lani squished it between her fingers and kind of sucked it off. Lakyn picked the whole piece in her hand and ate it in bites. We had to wash their clothes when they were done, but it was worth it.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167755330407322018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7eOF9MPUaI/AAAAAAAAAAc/IkqED_NPvrk/s320/trip+wva+073.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lani gets into her cake!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167757391991624114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="238" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7eP99MPUbI/AAAAAAAAAAk/97CD2xYxTSY/s320/trip+wva+075.JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;Lakyn is a bit neater than her sister.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167758912410046914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="237" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7eRWdMPUcI/AAAAAAAAAAs/hsoBkHUs9F0/s320/trip+wva+066.JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;These babies are true future women. Lakyn holds a cell phone and Lani holds a remote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167760540202652114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7eS1NMPUdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QgZIWenS99g/s320/trip+wva+067.JPG" border="0" /&gt;"Lani Bug" and her birthday hat. It didn't stay on her head very long.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167762228124799458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7eUXdMPUeI/AAAAAAAAAA8/2VujJA2Cb6s/s320/trip+wva+057.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;My sweet Lakyn&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Now that I've kind of gotten the hang of this photo thing I think I'll do it often!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-805875708237639127?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/805875708237639127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=805875708237639127' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/805875708237639127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/805875708237639127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/visit-with-grandbabies.html' title='Visit With the Grandbabies'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zDPsOCAhLpU/R7eOF9MPUaI/AAAAAAAAAAc/IkqED_NPvrk/s72-c/trip+wva+073.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-323127266866322952</id><published>2008-02-08T11:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T13:32:44.059-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anticipating the Weekend</title><content type='html'>I'm getting excited.  Tomorrow we're heading toward Beckley, West Virginia to spend several hours with the twins, Lakyn and Lani and their daddy.  They turned one year old January 16. Douglas says Lani will take off her sock and hold it under his nose and when he says "pew-ee" she giggles.  According to him she has been whistling  for a couple of months!  They both are saying "Uh oh" and "mama" and "dada."  Guess I'll have to try and teach them "grandma."  I hope it doesn't come out "nana" because I'm not a banana.  Tom says I'll have to answer to whatever they choose to call me.  I know I'll be thrilled when they call me anything!  I plan to take my new Christmas camera and shoot a bazillion pictures and maybe I'll  actually post some.  I'm taking a birthday cake, too.  I can't wait to see them destroy that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-323127266866322952?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/323127266866322952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=323127266866322952' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/323127266866322952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/323127266866322952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/anticipating-weekend.html' title='Anticipating the Weekend'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4087566189215297172</id><published>2008-02-06T10:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T10:56:39.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Sign of Spring</title><content type='html'>Another sign of spring-- Conneaut Dairy Queen is open!  Spring's on its way; I don't care what that old groundhog says.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4087566189215297172?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4087566189215297172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4087566189215297172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4087566189215297172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4087566189215297172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/02/another-sign-of-spring.html' title='Another Sign of Spring'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-515971173375750369</id><published>2008-01-29T10:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T10:41:16.697-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Ready to Play!!</title><content type='html'>"We don't stop playing because we turn old, but turn old because we stop playing."   Satchel Paige&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-515971173375750369?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/515971173375750369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=515971173375750369' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/515971173375750369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/515971173375750369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/im.html' title='I&apos;m Ready to Play!!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5606917319608313668</id><published>2008-01-28T10:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T11:11:07.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Letter To Scott</title><content type='html'>Dear Scott,&lt;br /&gt;Twenty five years ago my heart broke when they told me you'd died.  A part of me died with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're perpetually twenty-two while the rest of us have grown older.  Can you believe it, I'm fifty and a grandmother and our little brother Jeff is forty-four!  Your nephews, Douglas and Tommy, are men now and Douglas is the father of beautiful twin daughters.  Jeff is the father of two grown daughters, Stephanie and Brittany, both in college, both amazing women as well as being a stepfather to Tyler and the twins Cain and Caleb.  He's married to Stacy--you'd love her, she fits right in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd be so proud of Mom and Dad.  They celebrated fifty years of marriage in 2003.  Mom just turned seventy-seven and Dad is seventy-five.  They haven't slowed down much in spite of their years.  They are very active in the church.  Dad still leads singing and Mom is the church treasurer.  Dad helps Pastor Byron Gurnee with building projects and maintenance around the church and parsonage.  Mom fixes meals for visiting evangelists and preachers who come to fill in and does laundry for a dear old lady who lives in a nursing home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa Cole died the year after you did but Grandma lived until 1994, dying just before her ninety first birthday.  Aunt Shirley died in July of 1983 of cancer just a few months after you left us.  Aunt Mame died several years later of Lou Gehrig's Disease,  Aunt Kate died last year of cancer and Uncle Tommy died of a massive coronary just a year ago.  Your friends Bill Hall and Don Hill are both gone now, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hasn't all been loss and sadness, however.  I did graduate from nursing school in May of '83 in spite of my grief.  Tom became an absolute whiz at computers--self-taught, no less--and is the PLC programmer at Plastpro, Inc. besides being the maintenace supervisor.  Douglas is an ordained Assemblies of God minister and is currently selling insurance in Columbus.  Tommy is happily living in a home for mentally retarded men where he is, as he says, "the big cheese."  And for the past fourteen years we've lived at 519 Lake Erie Street in North Conneaut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff spent time in Germany and Hawaii courtesy of the US Army.  He's a correctional officer at the Lewisburg Federal Penetentiary in Pennsylvania.  In his spare time he fixes up houses to sell and is looking forward to retirement in a few years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Cleveland Indians who, as you know, were always dead last in the standings when we were kids, won the pennant twice in the mid ninteen nineties and have been more than respectable since.  Old Municipal Stadium has been razed and they now play in a beautiful park called Progressive Field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're in a new century and a new millenium.  Almost everybody carries a cellular phone with them everywhere.  Cameras are digital, making film nearly obsolete.  You simply download your pictures onto your computer.  Everybody has a computer these days.  Some of them are even portable, called laptops.  No one uses a typewriter anymore.  Everything is typed on the computer.  Drafting, keeping accounts, recording music, taking college courses and thousands of other things are all done on the computer.  People rarely write letters these days.  They simply "email" each other.  There is no need for encyclopedias. All the information one could possibly want is on the internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music is burned to a six inch disk called a CD and movies are available to everybody on disks, as well.  They're called DVDs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cold War is over, the Berlin Wall has been torn down both due in large part to President Ronald Reagan.  He has since died of Alzheimer's Disease.  Besides him George Bush, Bill Clinton and George W. Bush have been president since you died.  This year a woman and a black man are running for president. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On September 11, 2001 terrorists flew jets into both towers of The World Trade Center in New York City killing more than 3,000 people and plunging the nation into The War on Terror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although both the world and your family are far different than they were on January 25, 1983, you are still mourned and missed.  I look forward to the day we are reunited in heaven.  Until then know that I love you.  Your sister, Cindy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5606917319608313668?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5606917319608313668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5606917319608313668' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5606917319608313668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5606917319608313668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/letter-to-scott.html' title='A Letter To Scott'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4024790239539844143</id><published>2008-01-22T09:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T10:35:00.499-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's down.  After moaning and groaning about putting up the Christmas tree I enjoted it so much I didn't want to take it down.  But yesterday I bit the bullet and dismantled it.  It's back in its box waiting for the Big Scary guy to take it and the ornaments to the garage.  The family room looks a bit bare but tidier.  So it's goodbye for eleven months.  That doesn't sound like a very long time--I'd better think about starting my shopping!  (I really like to shop throughout the year when I find appropriate gifts for the people on my list.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Christmas gifts, I had given Tom tickets to the Carousel Dinner Theater in Akron.  They were for Saturday, January 19 which also is his birthday; (he's fifty one-derful.) We headed out but the further west we went the worse the weather got.  By the time we reached Geneva the visibility was nearly zero.  It was horrible.  We decided we'd rather not be killed in an attempt to get there so we reluctantly turned around and headed back on Route 20, rather than hazarding the interstate any longer.  We finally decided to salvage the weekend the best we could by staying at the Hampton Inn in Austinburg.  We ordered food from Covered Bridge Pizza and just relaxed.  It was nice but not what I'd planned. So the way I see it, I still owe him a Christmas present. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have tickets for a Cavs game in March, courtesy of Plastpro; I sure hope we have more success  then than we did Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought Tom a really neat birthday present, one he wasn't able to guess ahead of time.  I'm finally becoming more devious apparently.  While reading &lt;em&gt;Smithsonian&lt;/em&gt; early in January I found an ad for a watch made in such a way you can see the gears in the thing.  He loves timepieces and I knew he would love this one.  I was right!! Plus, he was totally floored.  As we say at our house,  "I done good."  It makes me happy to do things that please him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I'm finishing painting Tommy's room.  Since I get paint all over me I do it only on days I don't have to work.  Tuesday is my day off so painting was the only thing on the agenda.  I decided to take a break to check the email and blogs, so it's not quite done yet.  Almost, though.  Let the record show, I hate painting, so I listen to DVDs or Rush Limbaugh and the work goes quickly.  I'm not cooking, either. We're having 599-5600 for supper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4024790239539844143?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4024790239539844143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4024790239539844143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4024790239539844143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4024790239539844143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/its-down.html' title=''/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5409668398525585241</id><published>2008-01-18T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T11:12:35.590-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Definition of Hope</title><content type='html'>The weatherman is predicting single digit temperatures for this weekend.  Be that as it may, &lt;strong&gt;my daffodils are up!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5409668398525585241?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5409668398525585241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5409668398525585241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5409668398525585241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5409668398525585241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/definition-of-hope.html' title='The Definition of Hope'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-8001516032791572065</id><published>2008-01-15T03:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T03:36:13.452-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Doug's email address</title><content type='html'>For those of you who would like to send Douglas an email his address is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;buckeye1978@hotmail.com&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-8001516032791572065?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/8001516032791572065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=8001516032791572065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8001516032791572065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/8001516032791572065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/dougs-email-address.html' title='Doug&apos;s email address'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-7599758346177326988</id><published>2008-01-14T11:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T14:25:00.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally, A Second Client</title><content type='html'>Last Thursday I spent twelve hours with my new client, and another twelve with her on Saturday. Maggie is a seven year old little girl with extensive physical and mental challenges.&lt;br /&gt;Her parents had been looking for someone to fill in when their regular nurses were unavailable.&lt;br /&gt;Although she is totally different from Judi, my other client, I enjoyed taking care of her. I got to use nursing skills I hadn't used for twenty five years and, in fact, learned some new skills. She is fed three times a day through a tube in her stomach. She takes her meds the same way. To move her between her wheelchair and the couch or tub one uses a sling and a rail attached to the ceiling. I got quite good at getting her into and out of that sling. Since she is unable to sit up I gave her her bath while she was lying on her back in the tub. I washed her beautiful waist-length hair in the tub, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When up in her wheelchair Maggie wears a back brace and leg braces which I also got proficient applying and removing. We spent a happy hour listening to a cassette of the Sesame Street monsters singing songs about the alphabet. Nearly thirty years ago I played the same songs, on a record player, no less, to Douglas. Needless to say there's been a lot of water under that bridge!! However, Maggie seemed to enjoy herself judging by the big smiles I got. Or maybe the silly way I waved her arms about in time to the music made her happy. I believe she was adequately stimulated. I know I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking up ways to stimulate her is the biggest challenge of this assignment. I'm going to look for more children's albums next time I go to Barnes and Noble. She has many toys with music and voices and they are useful to play with with her. Maybe I just need to learn to play with a young child again. It's been a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate I'm thankful for my second client.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, as you probably know Douglas is in the middle of an unwanted divorce. He is having a hard time with grief issues. Due to the visitation schedule he has been unable to attend church which is also difficult. If you'd remember him when you pray I'd appreciate it and I know he would, too. If anyone would like to drop him a line his address is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;947 E. Johnstown Rd.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;PMB 281&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gahanna, OH 43230&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Tom's due any minute and I need to set the table.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-7599758346177326988?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/7599758346177326988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=7599758346177326988' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7599758346177326988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7599758346177326988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/finally-second-client.html' title='Finally, A Second Client'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-6484346639718559390</id><published>2008-01-11T13:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T17:26:51.612-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God and Stress</title><content type='html'>I've been reading "A Place Called Simplicity" by Claire Cloninger. In it she tells how God will help us with our difficulties if we let him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Knowing that God is there, working right in the thick of it all, invested in our concerns and wanting us to get through it by his grace, can be a tremendously calming and comforting thought when we are feeling frantic. If we can just "remember to remember" this wonderful reality, we can allow God to hold our stress and worry. And this in turn can free us simply to "do the next thing...and then the next thing...and then the next. Before we know it, the job will be done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The visual of God standing by me as I work, patiently holding all my stress and worries in his hands, allowing me to do what I need to do takes my breath away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-6484346639718559390?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/6484346639718559390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=6484346639718559390' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6484346639718559390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/6484346639718559390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/god-and-stress.html' title='God and Stress'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-7587778726434317999</id><published>2008-01-07T11:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T11:42:52.362-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Spring!</title><content type='html'>Wow! My thermometer says it's 66 degrees outside. I'm loving this weather. I'm watching a downy woodpecker poke away at a block of suet while one of the cats dozes in the sunshine. I've been answering emails, billing for my business and listening to Rush Limbaugh. I've been on a Rush Limbaugh/Sean Hannity moratorium for several months because I get so agitated by political discussion. My therapist said the word is "obsessed." I'm like an addict--I snuck a little listen and then I was hooked again. I did promise Tom I'd monitor myself and turn it all off it I start getting crazy. What I've been hearing has been interesting. I have a lot to think about before the Ohio primary. Time to go to work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-7587778726434317999?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/7587778726434317999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=7587778726434317999' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7587778726434317999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/7587778726434317999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-spring.html' title='Happy Spring!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5440942095212154854</id><published>2008-01-02T07:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T07:42:49.630-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year</title><content type='html'>Well 2008 is here.  Our Christmas tree is still up.  After making a fuss about having to put it up now I'm loathe to take it down.  I enjoy its cheerful presence in the evening; plus the holidays will "officially" be over when it comes down and all we'll be left with is winter.  Winter is very difficult for me.  I struggle with Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD.  The lack of sunlight does something to my brain chemistry making me depressed and irritable, susceptible to crying, overeating, oversleeping and just being miserable as well as making those around me miserable.  In an effort to provide myself with the light I need I wear a special visor that has a light on it that shines directly into my eyes.  I wear it for 30 minutes to an hour every day and it does seem to help.  I also have several projects lined up to keep me occupied when I'm not working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in the process of redoing Tommy's room.  He wants it decorated in an Ohio State Buckeyes motif.  I've been painting it white, then I have a two foot tall Brutus to stencil on the wall as well as an "Ohio State Buckeyes" border for under the ceiling.  Tom is going to run the wire to provide a ceiling light as there has never been one in that room.  I can only paint on bright days due to the otherwise lack of light.  After that room is completed I'm planning to turn Doug's room into an office for me.  My new laptop needs a home other than the kitchen table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kitchen needs reorganized and I want to paint the cupboards.  I'm also planning to work with my parents on an oral history of their lives.  By the time I accomplish all this it will be spring and I'll be bouncing off the walls with renewed energy and zest for living .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My "resolution " is to work toward more balance in my life, i.e. more vegetables, less sweets, more exercise, less sitting around like a lump, more reading, less TV, more cooking, less eating out, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time for me to get ready for work so I'll wind it up. P.S.  I still love my job and have to pinch myself that I don't have to go to the prison. &lt;strong&gt;YES!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5440942095212154854?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5440942095212154854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5440942095212154854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5440942095212154854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5440942095212154854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-1917060703018344936</id><published>2007-12-25T11:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-25T13:56:24.242-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.maploco.com/view.php?id=1957566"&gt;&lt;img alt="Visitor Map" src="http://www.maploco.com/vmap/1957566.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.maploco.com/"&gt;Create your own visitor map!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm writing this entry on my very own brand new laptop the Big Scary Guy gave me for Christmas.  I had been using an old one of his which was okay but he surprised me with one of my own.  I'm excited for a lot of reasons not the least of which is  it actually has a battery that works .  I can take it to the bookstore without having to drag a big long cord with me.  I can't wait!  And since the BSG and Tommy and I all have gift cards to Barnes and Noble we'll probably go tomorrow and I can try portable computing for myself.  I also received a digital camera and since we're planning a visit to West Virginia next weekend to see the babies, expect pictures soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a wonderful Christmas season beginning with our trip to Jeff and Stacy's.  On the fifteenth we took Tommy to Cleveland to see &lt;em&gt;A Christmas Carol&lt;/em&gt; at the Ohio Theater.  We were seated in the second row from the stage so we felt as if they were acting just for us.  It amazes me that people can memorize pages and pages of script and repeat it back in a totally believeable manner.  The actors were excellent.  The man who was Scrooge did an exceptional job.  His "bah! humbugs" were second to none. The bad weather even held off until we were on our way back to Conneaut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We enjoyed seeing the kids at church do their pageant, complete with shepherds, angels, wise guys, er, wise men, Mary and Joseph and of course, Baby Jesus.  It was a quality job from start to finish.  The Christmas story remains as fresh as ever, reminding us again of the real reason for the season.  My favorite part of the program was watching Tom play the saxophone for the first time in almost thirty five years.  I was so proud.  I hope he does it again sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we went to Aunt Herbie's house for the Cole Christmas Eve.  It was nice to see some cousins we hadn't seen in several years as well as the ones we see regularly.  The evidence that  the aunts and uncles are getting older is sobering, but then, I am fifty.  I probably seemed ancient to the kids running around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we had Christmas dinner with Mom and Dad.  We're privileged to have them in such good health.  We dined on ham, potato salad, beets, fruit salad and corn, followed by slabs of chocolate cake.  It was so good.  We exchanged gifts, then Tom and I burned the boxes and wrapping paper from the morning.  After we came home Tom did laundry.  Next year I'm buying him something to play with;  he's driving me nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas to all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-1917060703018344936?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/1917060703018344936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=1917060703018344936' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1917060703018344936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1917060703018344936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2007/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas!'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-252522913321168801</id><published>2007-12-11T12:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T14:25:52.959-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rodgers Christmas Celebration</title><content type='html'>Last weekend the Big Scary Guy and I traveled to Mifflinburg, PA to be with my parents and Jeff's family for our Rodgers family Christmas.  We arrived just in time for meatball subs on Thursday evening.  Stacy had decorated their house beautifully, with a tree that could have been on a magazine cover, pine roping and red bows on the bannister, and old fashioned oil lanterns and greens on the porch.  We sat around playing Christmas CDs and catching up on the latest news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday we made the obligatory trip to Wenger's, a grocery store run by Mennonites.  The prices are too good to pass up and the chocolate I was going to purchase turned into a cartful of bargains.  Then we went to a farm market where I found several more food items I hadn't known I needed but discovered that I did.  Before starting out on this trek we'd started a roaster full of sauerkraut baking and by the time we returned the house smelled heavenly.  Stacy had purchased a selection of meats and breads from Germany on the internet for Jeff's birthday in October.  They'd saved them to have when we all got together.  What a feast!   We had bratwurst, knockwurst, and some other wurst (NOT liverwurst, I checked) along with mashed potatoes, the sauerkraut and two types of German bread. It was delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to the Christkindl Market.  Mifflinburg holds it each year and every year it gets bigger.  This year it started a block from Jeff and Stacy's house and stretched  several blocks and around a corner.  There are little sheds on both sides of the street where vendors sell everything from black forest cake to pierogis to soap to hand-knit articles to wines to craft items.  I bought eleven bars of handmade soaps (if you bought ten you got one free) with such lucious names as plum spice, rosemary mint, and raspberry cream.  They smell so good you want to eat them.  We also bought a half pound of fudge and a giant bag of kettle corn.  One of the organizations in town makes homemade vegetable soup and serves it out of a huge cauldron over an open fire.  There is a blacksmith making kitchen implements and hooks and such things and a town crier in a top hat walks the streets stopping at various intervals to tell us that "all's well."  Saint Nicholas arrives each year in his beautiful Old World robes. One of the winesellers hawks tastes of spiced wine he describes as "Christmas in a cup."  We wandered up and down the street poking our noses into the sheds.  We saw two men blowing long Alpine horns and the high school put on a concert in the Lutheran Church which is located right in the middle of the festivities.  We look forward all year to Christkindl. One year I bought Tom's Christmas present, a cuckoo clock, there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, neither Stephanie nor Brittany could get away from school to be with us.  That was a disappointment but we did get to spend time with Tyler and the twins, Cain and Caleb.  All three boys are geeks (it's a good thing to be a geek!) so Tom had a good time talking electronics with them.  He even left them his latest copy of "Nuts and Volts" magazine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After returning from Christkindl we ate pie and ice cream and opened our gifts.  I had to work Saturday at 11 a.m. so we got up at o'dark thirty and started home.  Tom got the short end of the stick as I slept the whole four hour trip.  Sorry, honey.&lt;br /&gt;As far I'm concerned Christmas has officially started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I bought another CD, "Noel" by Josh Groban. It is wonderful.  Nobody can sing pa rum pa pum pum like he can!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-252522913321168801?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/252522913321168801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=252522913321168801' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/252522913321168801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/252522913321168801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2007/12/rodgers-christmas-celebration.html' title='The Rodgers Christmas Celebration'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-101408277496159312</id><published>2007-12-05T13:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T14:34:30.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrapping Presents and Other Christmas Joys</title><content type='html'>There are some tasks I usually put off until the last possible moment and gift wrapping is one of those. Yesterday, though, I did the unthinkable.  There was a bulging Barnes and Noble bag on one of the kitchen chairs and I knew it would drive me crazy until it was put away.  For some strange reason I went to the closet, hauled out the wrapping paper, bows, and scotch tape and started to wrap.  I wrapped all the gifts for Jeff's family then started on the books.  Two hours later I had wrapped every single present in the house.  To say I felt smug would be an understatement.  And it gets better.  One of my internet purchases came today and at this minute it is safely wrapped, beribboned and awaiting a place under the tree, if we ever get the tree up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of the Christmas tree, I 'd just as soon not put one up.  The Big Scary Guy is allergic to real pine trees and I'm sick and tired of our artificial one.  If I could afford all new ornaments every year maybe I'd feel differently, but I know this year's tree will look just like last year's tree which looked just like the previous year's tree.  I enjoy all the outdoor lighting displays around town and think bright colored lights are a wonderful way to celebrate Jesus' birth.  But  for me putting up a Christmas tree isn't worth the effort.  Tom says I'm crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the best parts of Christmas for me is the music.  I love the carols.  This year I bought Mannheim Steamroller's new CD as well as "One Wintry Night" by David Phelps.  He puts his own spin on the music so it's a little different than we're used to but for the most part I like it a lot.  All except "I'll Have a Blue, Blue Christmas Without You." He could have left that one out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I treated myself to a 2 CD set of "Messiah" by George F. Handel.  If I could only have one type of Christmas music this would be it.   I always get the chills listening to it.  In fact, I listen to it all year long which is why I bought a new set this year.  My old one was scratched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tommy loves to listen to Dave Koz who plays the saxophone in a soft jazz style.  A couple of years ago we took him to a Dave Koz Christmas concert.  I believe it was quite nice although what I remember most is the seats were made for folks much narrower than I.  It was a long two hours.  Tommy, however, had a wonderful time. We listen to Koz's Christmas CDs every year and enjoy them very much.  Several years ago I bought a CD by a group called Rockapella.  They sing in a pop &lt;em&gt;a capella &lt;/em&gt;style and the songs are fun.  Tom and I like to play it very loudly on the car CD player as we're driving down the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beef stew is smelling great and Tom's due home any minute so it's time to turn off the computer.  Have a great day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-101408277496159312?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/101408277496159312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=101408277496159312' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/101408277496159312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/101408277496159312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2007/12/wrapping-presents-and-other-christmas.html' title='Wrapping Presents and Other Christmas Joys'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-5209785246098046852</id><published>2007-11-29T14:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T15:30:12.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I saw a sign the other day that I liked:  "&lt;em&gt;autumn is a season after which we start looking forward to spring!"&lt;/em&gt;  That about sums it up for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Th UPS man brought the first of my gift purchases today.  I ordered it on Monday and since today is Thursday, that's not bad at all.  Now I need to pull out the gift wrap and get busy.  Maybe tomorrow.  I tried going shopping at the mall today, but all I got was a headache.  Guess I'll do some more online.  One shopping trip I'm looking forward to is to Barnes and Noble in Erie.  I love buying books and I have a whole list of folks who are getting them from Tom and me.  People probably groan when they pick up their gift marked "from Cindy and Tom".  "Another book.  Can't they find something else to buy?"  But we &lt;strong&gt;love &lt;/strong&gt;books and figure no one can have too many, so we buy them.  And then we ask if, when they've read them, could we please borrow them?  Except, of course, the children's books we give Lakyn and Lani.  We read them first, before the girls get them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of books, I've been rereading one of Philip Yancey's called &lt;em&gt;Soul Survivor. &lt;/em&gt;In it he talks about the harm caused by the church in which he was raised, with its legalism and racism and other isms.  He nearly rejected religion because of these things. He asked "why am I still a Christian? What keeps me pursuing a gospel that has come to me amid so much distortion and static, that often sounds more like bad news than good?"  That sounds like a good question to me.  While I am confident the gospel I learned as a child wasn't distorted, looking back I remember standards, rules and thou shalt nots being preached far more than anything else.  As an adult I heard a catecism question whose answer was that we should enjoy God.  I was absolutely floored.  I had no idea we could actually enjoy God.  I still struggle with that concept. I love God and want to serve Him but often feel so burdened with guilt that I haven't prayed long enough or read enough scripture or simply don't feel spiritual that I have trouble relaxing enough to enjoy God.  But we're working on that, God and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting back to Philip Yancey, he said he had "a thirst for God, a reverence for the Bible,and a love for Jesus" so he set out to reconcile his religious past with his spiritual present.  He did this by searching for role models, some of which are rather surprising.  The first one he showcases is Martin Luther King, Jr. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom's home and wants to talk and I can't concentrate so I'll continue with this tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-5209785246098046852?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/5209785246098046852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=5209785246098046852' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5209785246098046852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/5209785246098046852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-saw-sign-other-day-that-i-liked.html' title=''/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-2987445489311676446</id><published>2007-11-27T12:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T13:30:40.635-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Thanksgiving Day Musings</title><content type='html'>It seems I'm not as smart as I thought I was. I was so smug, no Black Friday shopping for me. No crowds, no lines at the checkout, no craziness. I was not going to be a shopping cliche. Ha! Monday morning I spent a pleasant hour pointing and clicking and typing in my credit card number. Then while listening to the radio I discovered I had taken part in a new shopping cliche, Cyber Monday! What a shocker. I may have to actually go shopping, but the majority of the gifts Tom and I give will come to our house via UPS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving weekend was wonderful. Both Douglas and Tommy were home and we had dinner with Mom and Dad. Along with the turkey I cooked Tom's goose. Seriously, he'd asked me to make a goose, too, so I did. It was surprisingly tasty, though there wasn't much meat on it. Mom baked both pumpkin and red raspberry pies. Yum. The boys and Tom and I had Friday breakfast at Perkins before Douglas went back to Columbus. Then on Saturday Tom, Tommy, and the neighbor kid cleaned the garage. We had a huge smelly bonfire at my folk's place. All very satisfying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of Thanksgiving, there are innumerable things for which I am thankful. Among these are: bifocals, medications, my new job, my family, my home, my church, chocolate chip cookies, pizza delivery, sunshine, rain, flowers, good books, ice water, and coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Tom'll be home soon and there are pork chops to cook so I'll close for now. Happy Tuesday everybody!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-2987445489311676446?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/2987445489311676446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=2987445489311676446' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/2987445489311676446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/2987445489311676446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2007/11/post-thanksgiving-day-musings.html' title='Post Thanksgiving Day Musings'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4095947534467270232</id><published>2007-11-15T06:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T06:53:25.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Till Death Do Us Part</title><content type='html'>I'm going down memory lane today to a beautiful autumn day in 1975 when two young people happily pledged their lives to one another. Thirty two years ago I married Tom Misch. We were so young and so in love, so hopeful, with our lives stretching endlessly into the future.  By now, though, we've lived through a lot of that future.  It's been good for the most part.  We had some hard times, the death of Tom's mother, Scott's death, nursing school, Tommy's infancy and his subsequent challenges, Tom's diabetes and my bipolar disorder,and now trying to support Douglas through an unwanted divorce.  But each difficulty brought us closer as we leaned on each other and drew strength from one another.  We pledged to grow old together, but I for one never thought about actually aging.  Then one day I looked in the mirror and realized aging is a reality!  I've been scrapbooking pictures from when the kids were little and oh, yes, we've all changed.  But the journey has been fun and I'd do it all over again.  I'm still madly in love with Tom Misch.  He's my best friend.  So as we celebrate today it's with joy and anticipation of the next thirty two years.  Happy Anniversary my love!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4095947534467270232?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4095947534467270232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4095947534467270232' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4095947534467270232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4095947534467270232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2007/11/till-death-do-us-part.html' title='Till Death Do Us Part'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-1213312497396732721</id><published>2007-11-13T08:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T08:33:53.368-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Week Later...</title><content type='html'>It's been a week since my last day at LaECI.  People keep asking me if I miss it and the answer is NO!  I'm enjoying taking care of the client I have and am still on the lookout for one more.  But my stress level has gone down significantly and I aim to keep it there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week Tom and I got to visit Douglas and Lakyn and Lani.  Those babies are beyond precious.  We took pictures but unfortunately they're on film rather than digital.  I'm asking dear old Santa for a digital camera for Christmas.  When that happens, look out.  I'll be the proverbial grandmother with bazillions of grandbaby pictures.  The kids are growing so fast; it's hard to believe they are close to a year old.  Lani will pull herself up to the couch.  Lakyn's not too interested in that yet, but can they zip around on their bellies!  They make me tired just watching them.  We don't get to see them very often nor for very long but each moment is treasured immeasureably.  I love being a grandma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going back to my job, I did my first online billing today and it went surprisingly easy.  I hope I did it right!  I had to get my account set up with the billing company so I haven't been paid yet for any of the visits I've done.  Since I don't work for the warm fuzzies I was glad to finally have things in place for billing.  Now we'll wait and see how long it takes for payment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my bathroom is screaming to be scrubbed I'll close for now.  Hope everyone has a nice day.  Cindy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-1213312497396732721?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/1213312497396732721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=1213312497396732721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1213312497396732721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/1213312497396732721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2007/11/week-later.html' title='A Week Later...'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4639637165281783189.post-4649228664113220556</id><published>2007-11-06T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T13:59:28.554-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Quit My Job Today</title><content type='html'>I was paroled today from the Lake Erie Correctional Institution! After five years of nursing at LaECI I struck out on my own today as an independent healthcare provider. I will care for people in their homes and be paid by the state through the Waiver program. I have one part time client and a strong possibility for a second. I'm very excited to be doing this. It's been a long time coming. I really enjoyed being at the prison for most of the five years I was there. It's just been the last 5 or 6 months I began to feel it was time to move on. I explored the independent provider thing as a way to possibly someday care for my parents and get paid for it. Since they're the picture of health and have more fun than I do, I decided to put myself to work. So, with the support, both emotional and financial, of Tom and the expertise of my cousin, Lori, I now join the ranks of the self-employed. Suprisingly, my anxiety level has already gone down. I truly feel this move is a God thing and I can't wait to see where He leads.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4639637165281783189-4649228664113220556?l=cynthiamisch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/feeds/4649228664113220556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4639637165281783189&amp;postID=4649228664113220556' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4649228664113220556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4639637165281783189/posts/default/4649228664113220556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cynthiamisch.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-quit-my-job-today.html' title='I Quit My Job Today'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07087265041493929961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
