tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3533027354298926302024-03-13T23:03:29.966-06:00Terra Rambler"In a houseful of children and pets, you can start out having a bad day, but you keep getting detoured."Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-5960165296452362522013-03-14T18:41:00.000-06:002013-03-14T18:41:31.983-06:00Spring Veggie Stir FryWhen I was a girl, my mother always let me choose what I wanted her to cook for dinner on my birthday. She had a cookbook with "international" recipes and every year I always chose a particular stir fry that included snow peas. Oh how I loved those snow peas! We never ate out at restaurants and my mom is a fantastic cook, but her repertoire didn't include many ethnic dishes. So my birthday dinner was always a special culinary treat and was probably the only Asian-inspired meal I ate for most of the year.<br />
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A dozen years later and I marry a fellow amateur food snob who especially adores almost any sort of Asian food. We used to eat out a lot more in our pre-offspring stage and also enjoyed roasting newlywed chickens and concocting eclectic spinach salads at home. Back then we had more time, energy, and money and we only had to please ourselves so we were exploring all sorts of different cuisines. Fast forward to now and I've noticed that the majority of times that we actually escape the house, just the two of us, we go out for sushi. Dinner dates are such a rarity that we go straight for the best comfort food that can't be replicated at our home. Utah is landlocked, ya know.<br />
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And now Ava has shown how much she loves Asian food. She cries when she finds out we got sushi without her and runs to the fridge to check for leftovers. She begs us to take her to "Jasmine", her favorite Chinese restaurant. And since she is now learning to speak Chinese and loves Chinese culture, all I have to do to get her to eat is tell her that whatever I'm cooking is a Chinese recipe. Plus, she's <u>always</u> loved broccoli and took roasted asparagus to preschool to share for her birthday treat.<br />
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So I've been searching for a good stir fry recipe; one that isn't way too salty or too sugary, has a depth and complexity of flavor, and lots and lots of vegetables.<br />
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This recipe was originally intended to be a gluten-free and vegetarian meal, but since our family is neither of those things (for deliberate reasons that probably deserve their own post...), I adapted it a bit for our tastes.<br />
Because we're a meat-eating, protein-lovin' kind of family, I swapped out the tofu for fresh, lean chicken. (And because tofu does a number on my stomach) Also, my kids are sensitive to spicy heat so I only added less than a third of the Sriracha originally called for. I couldn't find any reasonable sprouts at the store this time but I love love love them and they add an extra dimension of flavor and texture. Also, I preferred to stir the dressing into the chicken and veggies rather than into the noodles so that I could cut back on the starch on my own plate while still enjoying the yummy goodness of the dressing. It's an easy dish to make and isn't very fancy but it makes everyone here happy. Last night I made it for dinner but Jon is out of town so Ava just had to text him to let him know he missed a VERY scrumptious meal.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJnRxF5z1iI/UUI2-H0H_lI/AAAAAAAAASI/I_M94YrPd3g/s1600/IMG_0592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJnRxF5z1iI/UUI2-H0H_lI/AAAAAAAAASI/I_M94YrPd3g/s200/IMG_0592.JPG" width="199" /></a>Spring Veggie Stir Fry with Noodles<br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><i>adapted from vegnews.com</i></span></h3>
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<em>Serves 4 to 6</em></div>
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<strong style="margin: 8px 0px 10px;">What You Need:</strong></div>
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For the noodles:<br style="line-height: 10px;" />1 8-ounce package thick white rice noodles, cooked, drained<br style="line-height: 10px;" />Salt, to taste<br style="line-height: 10px;" />Sesame oil, to taste</div>
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For the dressing:<br style="line-height: 10px;" />1/4 cup water<br style="line-height: 10px;" />1 tablespoon low-sodium soy sauce<br style="line-height: 10px;" />3 tablespoons creamy peanut butter<br style="line-height: 10px;" />1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger<br style="line-height: 10px;" />1/2 teaspoon Sriracha<br style="line-height: 10px;" />Zest of 1 lime</div>
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For the stir fry:<br style="line-height: 10px;" />12-14 oz. chicken breast, cut into 1 inch pieces<br style="line-height: 10px;" />2-1/2 tablespoons sesame oil, divided<br />1/2 cup snow peas, strings removed<br style="line-height: 10px;" />3/4 cup chopped asparagus<br style="line-height: 10px;" />2 medium carrots, julienned<br style="line-height: 10px;" />1/4 cup soybean sprouts<br style="line-height: 10px;" />1/3 cup scallions, chopped<br style="line-height: 10px;" />3/4 cup fresh broccoli florets<br />Roasted peanuts</div>
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<strong style="margin: 8px 0px 10px;">What You Do:</strong></div>
<ol style="background-color: white; color: #494848; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; margin: 13px 0px;">
<li>In a medium bowl, add noodles, salt lightly, and drizzle with a touch of sesame oil.</li>
<li>For the dressing, in a medium bowl whisk together all ingredients. </li>
<li>In a large frying pan over medium-high heat, toss together chicken and 1 tablespoon of sesame oil and sauté until browned. Set aside. Add remaining sesame oil, snow peas, asparagus, carrots, sprouts, scallions, and broccoli and sauté, stirring often, until vegetables are brightly colored and slightly tender. Combine veggies with chicken and stir in dressing until warmed and coated.</li>
<li>To serve, divide noodles evenly among serving bowls and top with veggies, chicken, and peanuts. Serve hot.</li>
</ol>
Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-50004668378589897372012-06-11T17:15:00.001-06:002012-06-11T17:15:38.203-06:00Cycling the Legacy<br />
So, during the construction of the Legacy Highway in Salt Lake and Davis County, UDOT added a 50mile trail which parallels most of the highway. We decided to put some new Teerlink gear to test by riding as far as out little legs could carry us. We loaded up the VW with as much cycling gear as she could hold and headed north to the trail head.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">The trail was segmented by great small pocket parks which made for great pit stops. The park had smattering of kids who Ava promptly made friends with. </span><span style="text-align: left;">At mile 5 we ended up taking a break at Bountiful Lake. After Ava made sure the lake was filled with enough rocks we followed her ultra pink kit (picture </span><span style="text-align: left;">Kermit</span><span style="text-align: left;"> the frog pedaling as fast as possible) back to the car to complete a 10 mile ride! Good times.</span><br />
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<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-76104969187934644002011-10-20T12:54:00.000-06:002011-10-20T12:55:00.852-06:00Group Photos RedefinedCan I tell you how cool this is! No longer do I need to smoosh my favorite gaggle of friends or family together in order to get a great group shot. The panographic shot has got to be the best method of capturing the true view of a group. That's PANO-graphic, not to be confused with its homophonic counterpart.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kUExtV6xcEU/TqBhxFt7QVI/AAAAAAAAAKY/gD-OEZcZxR8/s1600/Teerlink+pano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="60" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kUExtV6xcEU/TqBhxFt7QVI/AAAAAAAAAKY/gD-OEZcZxR8/s400/Teerlink+pano.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating Colby's Graduation from Police Academy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marianne's and Jim's B-Day Party</td></tr>
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Of course they are only good as long as they sit still! Otherwise they end up looking like an early 1800's black and white with blurred facesAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-47201072802916518732010-04-23T14:18:00.002-06:002010-04-23T14:26:18.057-06:00The Sparrow<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/S9ICM2C-JrI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/iwHVOFWifcw/s1600/winter-sparrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/S9ICM2C-JrI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/iwHVOFWifcw/s320/winter-sparrow.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Who will love a little Sparrow?<br />
Who's traveled far and cries for rest?<br />
"Not I," said the Oak Tree,<br />
"I won't share my branches with<br />
no sparrow's nest,<br />
And my blanket of leaves won't warm<br />
her cold breast."<br />
<br />
Who will love a little Sparrow<br />
And who will speak a kindly word?<br />
"Not I," said the Swan,<br />
"The entire idea is utterly absurd,<br />
I'd be laughed at and scorned if the<br />
other Swans heard."<br />
<br />
Who will take pity in his heart,<br />
And who will feed a starving sparrow?<br />
"Not I," said the Golden Wheat,<br />
"I would if I could but I cannot I know,<br />
I need all my grain to prosper and grow."<br />
<br />
Who will love a little Sparrow?<br />
Will no one write her eulogy?<br />
"I will," said the Earth,<br />
"For all I've created returns unto me,<br />
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be."</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><i><b>-Simon and Garfunkel</b></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><i><b><br />
</b></i> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><i><b><br />
</b></i> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><i><b>Happy Earth Day / Arbor Day</b></i></span>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-30577728290100681182010-04-07T13:02:00.000-06:002010-04-07T13:02:28.339-06:00The Jon and Ava Show.... or Our Trip to Zion 2010For our Tenth wedding anniversary, Jon planned a family trip to the only place you can camp in March.... somewhere south. We didn't go on the actual weekend of our anniversary because of a nasty bug Ava and I probably picked up at the gym, but Jon is sweet and understanding and rescheduled for the last weekend in March. So he loaded up Daisy (and planned, shopped, and packed all the food himself!!) and we headed to Zion NP through the fat, drifting snowflakes.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u48FRqU4I/AAAAAAAAAP8/erYOBNz-2iE/s1600/DSC_6639.JPG"></a><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457054970599763570" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7talUJg7nI/AAAAAAAAAPU/o392AswFEFc/s320/DSC_6528.JPG" />I've been taking a photography class to improve my skills and was relishing the prospect of great photo subjects when I learned my first lesson before we even arrived; carry your camera at all times. We stopped at a burger place for lunch and I sat in a booth across from the loves of my life and watched them bug each other. Ava was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">rhythmically</span> leaning her weight into Jon and he thought he'd trick her and move out of the way the next time she came around. Of course she lost her balance and fell into table, flipping fry sauce fry sauce into the air and coating half of her face and half of Jon's shorts. He starts laughing and she's not sure what to think until she bursts into tears and cries "Stop messing around, Dad!" And I missed a perfect photo op.<br /><br /><div>We finally arrived and found a campsite and explored around the river a bit. The weather was still pretty chilly and blustery so we had some hot cocoa, skipped the campfire, and turned in kinda early.</div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u7NGbbE4I/AAAAAAAAAQM/Tla3Jl55OOc/s1600/DSC_6700.JPG"></a><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457056600925004322" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7tcENlV4iI/AAAAAAAAAPc/UWNADTpAJz8/s320/DSC_6573.JPG" />The next day we did a few small hikes and enjoyed the cool sunshine. The little midget hiked all day and didn't ask to be carried once. I guess Jon and I are slowly learning to tone down our adventures and have fun on a smaller scale. Everyone ends up a lot happier that way; we lower our expectations a bit and she sure rises to the occasion. Camping with a four-year-old is like a dream! You don't have to carry her everywhere, she sleeps all night, and you don't have to stress yourself out trying to get in the naps. There's just sooo much less screaming from all involved parties. Plus she is still stoked to just play in the sand and throw rocks in the water all day.</div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u3AiHH7xI/AAAAAAAAAP0/hzfST7OHUWw/s1600/DSC_6619.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457156593274056466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u3AiHH7xI/AAAAAAAAAP0/hzfST7OHUWw/s320/DSC_6619.JPG" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u48FRqU4I/AAAAAAAAAP8/erYOBNz-2iE/s1600/DSC_6639.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457158715837404034" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u48FRqU4I/AAAAAAAAAP8/erYOBNz-2iE/s320/DSC_6639.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u7NGbbE4I/AAAAAAAAAQM/Tla3Jl55OOc/s1600/DSC_6700.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457161207227814786" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u7NGbbE4I/AAAAAAAAAQM/Tla3Jl55OOc/s320/DSC_6700.JPG" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u584iC3UI/AAAAAAAAAQE/uOS1eCBnLR8/s1600/DSC_6669.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457159829107957058" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u584iC3UI/AAAAAAAAAQE/uOS1eCBnLR8/s320/DSC_6669.JPG" /></a></div><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u8GJRJI3I/AAAAAAAAAQU/f_xi8sk6Y8U/s1600/DSC_6687.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457162187242546034" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7u8GJRJI3I/AAAAAAAAAQU/f_xi8sk6Y8U/s320/DSC_6687.JPG" /></a></p><div>Ava is such a daddy's girl and they really had a blast together. The break was nice for me; I still got to spend time with my family but without all the pressures and demands. I loved just sitting back and taking pictures of the two of them and the scenery. </div><div><br /> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457459444138964002" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zKcxgA9CI/AAAAAAAAAQw/4BefpxTafKk/s320/DSC_6781.JPG" /><br />After we hiked, Jon suprised us with a night in the suite at Zion Lodge. Ava slept a full 12 hours (unheard of!) on the sofa bed and I got to revel in clean sheets on the king size bed. We also had a lovely dinner and breakfast at the Lodge's restaurant.<br /><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457101231431353970" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7uEqDLQBnI/AAAAAAAAAPs/z2UYQCDajlQ/s320/DSC_6832.JPG" /> <div></div>The next morning I wanted to hike the Hidden Canyon trail but Ava said her legs hurt. I expected that after a long day hiking so she got to ride in the backpack carrier. (That's the last time she'll fit in that thing!) Sunday the weather was perfectly clear, calm, sunny and cool and we took our time enjoying the hike and having lunch on the rocks. Ava kept insisting that Jon follow her lead, even when she was riding in the pack, making sure he held on to the chain on the climbs and stepped on all the right rocks. When she walked, she made him follow the line in the sand left by the stick she dragged along. At any moment on the trip if he was out of sight, she would scold me and say "MOM, we gotta wait for Daddy!" But do you think she said that when I was out of the picture? <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457460663151887170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zLjurWA0I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/eIBCkpOwfOo/s320/DSC_6856.JPG" /></div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zMVVPJl_I/AAAAAAAAARA/uRtBHQABbI4/s1600/DSC_6867.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 214px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457461515316205554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zMVVPJl_I/AAAAAAAAARA/uRtBHQABbI4/s320/DSC_6867.JPG" /></a> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zNI3mPhoI/AAAAAAAAARI/pU9zG2PDBMU/s1600/DSC_6887.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 214px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457462400713197186" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zNI3mPhoI/AAAAAAAAARI/pU9zG2PDBMU/s320/DSC_6887.JPG" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zNzYSWARI/AAAAAAAAARQ/Q6a9kTOIpYA/s1600/DSC_6890.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 214px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457463131042611474" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zNzYSWARI/AAAAAAAAARQ/Q6a9kTOIpYA/s320/DSC_6890.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div>After the hike we were supposed to drive home but decided to camp another night. After finding another site and a quick trip for groceries, it was time to relax.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457417341895368338" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7ykKGa63pI/AAAAAAAAAQg/NMDxm9egV1A/s320/DSC_6943.JPG" /></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457457888113837506" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zJCM2txcI/AAAAAAAAAQo/0zzeaOckiYo/s320/DSC_6957.JPG" /> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zPYTzDhyI/AAAAAAAAARY/1rwLylYF5OM/s1600/DSC_6963.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457464865004422946" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zPYTzDhyI/AAAAAAAAARY/1rwLylYF5OM/s320/DSC_6963.JPG" /></a> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zP9rEoi6I/AAAAAAAAARg/uKc5XixHoS4/s1600/DSC_6985.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457465506907327394" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zP9rEoi6I/AAAAAAAAARg/uKc5XixHoS4/s320/DSC_6985.JPG" /></a><br /><br />The wind howled all that night and the next morning so we packed up and headed out. Can't think of a better way to celebrate ten happy stinkin' years of my little family!! </div><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457466221581562914" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/S7zQnRcP9CI/AAAAAAAAARo/b0rU6uvfiDc/s320/DSC_6777.JPG" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-42239540182437974512009-09-24T08:44:00.007-06:002013-03-14T18:44:39.956-06:00Yeah Yeah YeahI rarely attend concerts. The Pixies and Glen Han<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385109268006746322" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/SrvAWQQ0uNI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Pj_dyG4RAGE/s320/clip_image001.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" />sard, aka The Frames, were the last bands I was lucky enough to see. But when I saw that my all time favorite punk rock garage band, Yeah Yeah Yeahs decided to grace the SLC with their presence I had to go.<br />
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Opening for the YYYs was Yacht, an indie electronica duo that have been supporting the YYY's on this tour. The girl/boy band dressed in contrasting black and white and with her bleached hair next to his black do', they evoked a ying and yang aura as they sung about the afterlife with an 80's flair set to deep bass lines. Though they only sung to the back beat, their energy on stage demanded your respect.<br />
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Yact left the stage smokin' and the audience stoked for the YYY's. Every light or sound check seemed to tease us and made the wait worse. But finally, after three years of enjoying the YYY sound and anticipating every new album release, the wait was over! </div>
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They absolutely rocked! Their setlist was more than I could have imagined. In fact after reviewing the YYY forum, I found we were able to witness songs that weren't played in other cities! The fans in these other cities hearts seemed to sink as they responed to the SLC setlist.<br />
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Karen O's performance was just as I expected; loud and obnoxiously energetic like an 80's jazzercise workout. Having explosions of Y shaped silver confetti rain over the crowd, watching Karen body slam the speaker stack and wind up her mic, spin it over her head, only to let it repeatedly crash to the stage at the end of the set (after sweaty encore) as a sacrifice to an utterly perfect and rockin' show, was euphoric. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/Sru_xzKQnEI/AAAAAAAAAJo/oyORH7ifyhE/s1600-h/yyy+4.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385108641719295042" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/Sru_xzKQnEI/AAAAAAAAAJo/oyORH7ifyhE/s320/yyy+4.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 245px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a></div>
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Regardless of their rich kid-NYC upbringing the trio love their style of neo-garage punk and it showed. Look for Karen's classic voice in the upcoming movie "Where the Wild Things Are". </div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-87024243028028591332009-08-18T13:51:00.005-06:002009-08-18T14:00:12.076-06:00What Happens in Costco, Stays in CostcoMare: Ava, tell Daddy what happen at the store today.<br />Ava: ...blank stare<br />Mare: Were you kicking Mommy at the store?<br />Ava: Yeah. Daddy, I kicked mommy, and it wasn't nice.<br />Mare: Thats right! Tell Daddy what happend after that.<br />Ava:(After a long pause) "...then it got weird!"Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-61937810652198725172009-07-11T10:14:00.000-06:002009-07-13T10:24:29.560-06:0032 Years and Still Cookin'<div>Happy Birthday to my sweet Jonny; to whom all the cliches apply and none does justice. I love you!</div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357980939611842626" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SltfRtrgqEI/AAAAAAAAAO8/QGe2yGhBNs4/s400/DSC_3130.JPG" /></div>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-26141399976544947272009-06-24T17:37:00.013-06:002009-06-24T18:13:04.469-06:00Kool-Aid Points, the Poor Man's Stock<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/SkK5OuCtjdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/D-z_creC3So/s1600-h/KoolAidMan_Fullpic_2.png"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351042969798282706" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/SkK5OuCtjdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/D-z_creC3So/s200/KoolAidMan_Fullpic_2.png" /></a> Economic downturn knows no bounds when even the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid man gets the axe! When 10 years ago I decided to clip and keep <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid points, for purely selfish reasons, I never would have thought that their future worth would be less than the foil-backed paper they were printed on.<br /><br />Anyone who has seen the inside of our pantry knows of a little blue Tupperware box that holds tons of one square centimeter bits of paper. Their “agreed” value is pretty much meaningless since you would have needed hundreds of these <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid points in exchange for even a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid man ball point pen. If you wanted a T-shirt, well, you would better be sweating <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid!<br /><br />I knew I most likely would never redeem them so saving them was novel at best, but I recently discovered that Kraft Foods has discontinued their points program altogether! I was also surprised to see that no news channels have covered this story, not even Fox! Therefore, I have taken upon myself to get the word out!<br /><br />In finality, Kraft Foods has posted a deadline of June 30<sup><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span></sup> of this year to submit all unused <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid Points in exchange for prizes. To say the least, in memoriam, I will be filling out my official points redemption form for my first and final pursuit of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid prizes. My goal; an official <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid Man brand plastic pitcher. Cross your fingers in hopes that it will be big enough to hold more than a cup of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid refreshment. (for those in suspense, I will keep you posted)<br /><br />So, farewell <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid points! I guess, it’s true when they say no one is safe in a capitalistic society as this was truly the poor man’s stock! Thank you for years of instilling in us all a fleeting hope for cheap prizes and also for giving us an elementary understanding of what "empty stocks" mean. I bid thee a respectful, <em>OH, YEAH!!</em><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><em></em></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></p>In case you also have unused points:<br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://brands.kraftfoods.com/koolaid/KoolSpace/KoolPoints/KoolPointsForm.pdf"><span style="color:#800080;">http://brands.kraftfoods.com/koolaid/KoolSpace/KoolPoints/KoolPointsForm.pdf</span></a> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-11923325059391960752009-06-02T10:06:00.015-06:002009-06-02T12:46:23.024-06:00Meet the Jensens<div><br /><br /><div><div>Congratulations to my sister, Emily, and her new husband, Joel, on their marriage this past month. They are the perfect match and I know they have many years of happiness ahead! The bride looked gorgeous (as she always does), the weather was clear and sunny, the groom was positively glowing, and the ceremony made me cry. What more can you hope for on your wedding day?<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVszPUYLXI/AAAAAAAAAOU/vt8sUMGYEF8/s1600-h/DSC_1411.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342796160486092146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVszPUYLXI/AAAAAAAAAOU/vt8sUMGYEF8/s320/DSC_1411.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVtQAnwlOI/AAAAAAAAAOc/1nzhsIpDtPs/s1600-h/DSC_1504.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342796654757057762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVtQAnwlOI/AAAAAAAAAOc/1nzhsIpDtPs/s320/DSC_1504.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVih6eNlvI/AAAAAAAAAN0/Yr6a2Sorfdk/s1600-h/DSC_1463.JPG"></a></p><p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVfzqyxulI/AAAAAAAAANs/iQnTCVLg2WA/s1600-h/DSC_1522.JPG"></a></p> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVzFLfKIFI/AAAAAAAAAO0/0vDrvjcRtuk/s1600-h/DSC_1463.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342803065764978770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVzFLfKIFI/AAAAAAAAAO0/0vDrvjcRtuk/s320/DSC_1463.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVwFj5Ax7I/AAAAAAAAAOk/rqBJD4BA3Rw/s1600-h/DSC_1502.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342799773780985778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVwFj5Ax7I/AAAAAAAAAOk/rqBJD4BA3Rw/s320/DSC_1502.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342800445296295042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVwspevPII/AAAAAAAAAOs/XhA9qdlGc7Y/s320/DSC_1522.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342791377559949986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SiVoc1h7EqI/AAAAAAAAAOE/oHsrgz-zRhY/s320/DSC_1654.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="left">I'm sure Jon and Ross are now relieved that they're not so strongly outnumbered among the Gibson girls. We love you Emunny and Joel!</p></div></div></div>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-42938332921145854762009-05-28T00:48:00.004-06:002009-05-28T01:45:29.499-06:00A Lesson in TaxidermyWhile Marianne is living it up with friends, Manhattan style, Ava and I decided to indulge in some wanderlust and head to Wyoming. While the weather didn't quite cooperate, Jackson was the quietest I have ever expierenced it, giving Ava and I lots of space to reconnect while wandering the boardwalk town.<br /><br />It is no secret however that Ava is not a shopper. She grimaces at the thought of browsing and I think I heard her mumble something under her breath when I told her we were going to walk around town to window shop. But, regardless, her charming wit had perfect timing while we walked through a store naming the several stuffed game animals on display and mimicked the sounds they make...well made, when we came to stare up at a large, shaggy moose. Without thinking I asked her what <em><strong>he</strong></em> would say (while standing there stuffed, staring blankly in a store) instead of asking what do moose say, in general. Without skipping a beat and with a bit of a grimace on her face, she growled in her best moose impersonation, "Oooo...I am not feeling too good"!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340775983225069666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/Sh4_dckRYGI/AAAAAAAAAI4/3QJUAAwCB2s/s200/Stuffed+Moose.JPG" border="0" />You had to be there.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-76982308432430395402009-05-13T13:55:00.001-06:002009-05-20T14:39:58.432-06:00The Hazards of TwirlingAva is not very girly in any of the stereotypical girly ways. She doesn't like to play dress up and prefers balls, cars and sand over any doll. But she does love shoes, painted toenails, and twirling around in circles in a pretty dress. Even if she's not wearing a dress.<br /><br />One afternoon I'm chatting on the phone in Ava's room as she's twirling around and laughing hysterically as she falls crashing to the floor. Predictably, she falls in random, ingenuous ways. Sure enough, I watch as she headplants directly into her dresser and promptly punctures a hole in her forehead on the drawer pull.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337997861893320706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/ShRgxgHyMAI/AAAAAAAAAM8/-cc7dpdWaL0/s320/DSC_2511.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p>While there is screaming and some blood trickling down her forehead, both the crying and bleeding stop remarkably fast and since she is normally quite the drama queen for pain I figure that it really must not hurt that bad. (She is pretty alarmed when she reaches up to touch it and sees her own blood for the first time.) Still, there is a bit of a gaping hole in the flesh; too small for a stitch but open and deep enough to leave a nice scar. So I decide that a nurse needs to at least look at it. Ava becomes much more worried about the impending visit to the doctor's office but the magic of being three means you can now talk her through most events. We walk in the door with her blaringly red juicy wound preceding us and when the nurse comes to help, Ava understates "I got an owie!" I was surprised at how grown up she was throughout the whole thing after I reassured her how nice the nurse would be. So Ava's forehead is steri-stripped and bandaged and we're on our way.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338005966661798434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/ShRoJQvKyiI/AAAAAAAAANM/HFCjcM3zH6s/s400/DSC_1358.JPG" border="0" /><br />Oh and by the way, that bandage was glued on so tight that removing it a week later was more traumatic than the whole ordeal combined.<br /><p></p>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-39976122094568827212009-04-29T13:40:00.001-06:002009-05-19T14:25:41.987-06:00Typical Spring Evening<div align="left">If the weather is nice, this is exactly what you'll find each of us doing with some free time on any given evening.<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337630825864552962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/ShMS9MXU4gI/AAAAAAAAAMs/WD-oeA7v64M/s320/DSC_1002.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Ava making sand cakes<br /><br /></p><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337632436422801282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/ShMUa8KVd4I/AAAAAAAAAM0/DbHg2pXdQlU/s320/DSC_0985.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Jon playing grease monkey</p><p align="left">And me? I'm behind the camera, of course, practicing my photography and feeling content to see my happy family !<br /><br /></p>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-69760650242513930672009-04-07T08:48:00.001-06:002009-04-07T08:51:34.459-06:00True StoryOne day, long, long ago, there lived a woman<br />Who did not whine, nag, or bitch.<br /> <br /><br />But it was a long time ago, and it was just that one day.<br /><br />The End<br /><br />(Thanks Maggie, for making me laugh!)Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-52700872194388401012009-03-19T09:45:00.000-06:002009-04-01T09:58:11.069-06:00Footloose and Fancy Free<div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SdOMrK5aFcI/AAAAAAAAAMM/J3Gw1sRU1rY/s1600-h/bounce1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319750258142090690" style="WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SdOMrK5aFcI/AAAAAAAAAMM/J3Gw1sRU1rY/s320/bounce1.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SdONDGC_naI/AAAAAAAAAMU/3KbQ5lA9Q6I/s1600-h/bounce2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319750669156982178" style="WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SdONDGC_naI/AAAAAAAAAMU/3KbQ5lA9Q6I/s320/bounce2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SdONguuO_hI/AAAAAAAAAMc/vbMyRGRFu1s/s1600-h/bounce3.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319751178291969554" style="WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SdONguuO_hI/AAAAAAAAAMc/vbMyRGRFu1s/s320/bounce3.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SdON5UT2zuI/AAAAAAAAAMk/IqYj5sSI-Ak/s1600-h/bounce4.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319751600698740450" style="WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SdON5UT2zuI/AAAAAAAAAMk/IqYj5sSI-Ak/s320/bounce4.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The Bean discovered the pure joy of a Hippity-Hop!<br /><br /></div><div></div></div>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-15859521034660982362009-02-22T10:41:00.001-07:002009-02-22T10:48:28.737-07:00Buzz Lightyear Loves Brownie Batter<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SaGPztm8zeI/AAAAAAAAALk/Ot2uaHHDKjY/s1600-h/avabuzz.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305679954598219234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SaGPztm8zeI/AAAAAAAAALk/Ot2uaHHDKjY/s320/avabuzz.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-24218118721801299792009-02-19T09:48:00.003-07:002009-02-19T09:53:57.073-07:00Skywalker<strong>Ava:</strong> I can't reach the clouds!<br /><strong>Mare:</strong> You can't? Why?<br /><strong>Ava:</strong> I want to walk on them, they are fluffy.<br /><strong>Mare:</strong> They would be fluffy to walk on.<br /><strong>Ava:</strong> Can't reach.....I forgot my ladder. (with a scowl)Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-50553237490257532732009-01-15T14:29:00.005-07:002009-01-15T14:35:53.837-07:00With a little whipped cream<strong>Ava:</strong> I'm small.<br /><strong>Marianne: </strong>Yes, but you're very beautiful!<br /><strong>A:</strong> Yeah. Ava have pretty hair. Mommy is tall. And Daddy is tall.<br /><strong>M:</strong> You're right. What does Daddy look like?<br /><strong>A:</strong> Daddy have brown hair and green eyes.<br /><strong>M:</strong> Is Daddy fat or is he skinny?<br /><strong>A:</strong> He's skinny.<br /><strong>M:</strong> What does Daddy smell like?<br /><strong>A:</strong> Blueberries!!Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-42493655574996138262008-11-18T14:52:00.004-07:002008-11-18T15:21:52.367-07:00Cute CousinsWell Ava and I survived another trip to Colorado Springs and really had a great time hanging out with my sisters and her cousins. And Ava didn't even scream at all on the flight back, go figure. I guess the secret is strapping her into a carseat on the plane and not letting her get out the entire flight. .....actually I think I was just lucky this time. Unfortunately we both returned sicker than we've been all year and are just getting over it. But I can say that it was really nice that the kids mananged to get along better than ever and I'll chalk that up to them simply being 8 months older than the last time they were all together. Emily gets a gold medal for being Super Aunt all week (and always) and putting up with kid overload.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SSM_oRIS4wI/AAAAAAAAAK0/VrChyxTtaZQ/s1600-h/IMG_7959.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270125949979124482" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SSM_oRIS4wI/AAAAAAAAAK0/VrChyxTtaZQ/s320/IMG_7959.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SSM8RLs1hbI/AAAAAAAAAKs/8k0BpINKdA8/s1600-h/IMG_7916.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270122254849902002" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SSM8RLs1hbI/AAAAAAAAAKs/8k0BpINKdA8/s320/IMG_7916.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SSM8RLs1hbI/AAAAAAAAAKs/8k0BpINKdA8/s1600-h/IMG_7916.JPG"></a> </div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SSM8RLs1hbI/AAAAAAAAAKs/8k0BpINKdA8/s1600-h/IMG_7916.JPG"></a> </div>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-61150150366045064122008-10-24T10:42:00.005-06:002008-10-24T10:56:28.946-06:00Whose kid IS that?!Dear fellow passengers of Delta Flight #3804,<br /> <br />I hereby express my formal and sincere apology for the continued, ear-piercing, utterly blood-curdling screaming emanating for a full 30 minutes from the small curly-haired toddler sitting in row four. I promise that I was not deliberately torturing her, but apparently sitting in a chair <span style="font-style: italic;">with </span>the seat belt on constitutes torture to a two year old. (By the way, the contortions used as an attempted escape tactic were actually quite amazing.) Thank you for not throwing me even one single dirty look even though I know you felt like throwing us out at 20,000 feet.<br /><br />Forever grateful,<br />Frazzled Mama<br /><br />P.S. Hope you're not on the return flight next week.Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-2965760545269023382008-10-23T23:47:00.005-06:002008-10-24T10:38:34.737-06:00Ava Can't Even Count to 30!<div>So it begins, the climb to the top of the hill. I've been there and I know what you're thinking; somehow, for some reason, birthdays seem less and less significant, less exciting. But nothing is more exciting than growing old with my Mare. </div><div> </div><div>Happy Birthday, love!</div><div> </div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/SQFncc0YoMI/AAAAAAAAAGU/nrBWfrGPNxU/s1600-h/IMGP8047.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260599578215358658" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/SQFncc0YoMI/AAAAAAAAAGU/nrBWfrGPNxU/s320/IMGP8047.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/SQFncc0YoMI/AAAAAAAAAGU/nrBWfrGPNxU/s1600-h/IMGP8047.JPG"></a> </div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/SQFncc0YoMI/AAAAAAAAAGU/nrBWfrGPNxU/s1600-h/IMGP8047.JPG"></a> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>"Success is like reaching an important birthday and finding you're exactly the same."</div><div> - Audrey Hepburn</div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-75696884835998156412008-10-22T18:49:00.007-06:002008-10-24T10:36:45.392-06:00Achtung, Baby!There may not be 11:1 compression ratio or 5.0 liter pistons but she's got it were it counts, kid.<br /><br />Our Volkswagen is known by a few names; the "good bus" by Ava, "Daisy" by Mare, and I am sure many fellow motorists, especially those stuck behind us as we struggled to get up the local canyons, have called it "...that, !#*@ hippie bus". As for me, after a lot of hard work whipping her into shape, nothing says reliable German engineering weighing in at around 2,700 lbs like "Helga."<br /><br />(insert various stereotypes here)<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260149909770277762" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BIrW6szVs5o/SP_OeTUpE4I/AAAAAAAAAGI/q2RYfKCATw0/s320/IMGP7456+-+Copy.JPG" border="0" />Helga experienced quite a bit of body work over the past year. A complete roof conversion left her easily 150 pounds lighter. The interior was was completely removed and refurbished with new headliner, LED overhead lights, wood floor, carpet and stereo. My new friend <a href="http://www.randybrownvw.com/">Ray Brown</a>, worked her brakes, wheel bearings and timing over. So now she is running and handling as smooth as she was 39 years ago when she was shipped to San Diego.<br /><br />And although I can envision Mare rolling her eyes as I say this, her 40th birthday will be in March next year. Hey, how many 40 year-olds do you still see livin' strong, after extensive makeovers...wait, let me rephrase. 40 year old cars, I mean, of course.<br /><br /><br />Hopefully, she will see one more camping trip before the snow falls. Anyone interested?Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-41504204830674958272008-08-31T10:53:00.004-06:002008-10-24T10:37:28.827-06:00Adrenaline Junkie By DayThis post could be considered old news but hey better late than never.<br /><br />Witnessing the highly trained kinetics of the worlds best athletes in Beijing have been exciting at best. Their exhibition of strength and stamina at Olympic feats is always unbelievable. But no matter where you live, there is always a local scene, attempting similar feats, that are far more inspiring than the genetic, best-of seen in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">HD</span> on the TV.<br /><br />For example, Ava and I witnessed first hand a different side of Mama. A side that hides behind a kind and loving face. A side that has been chiseled to a state of readiness thanks to months of high-intensity training. A side that exploded into action during the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Jordanelle</span> Triathlon. A side that may make a man question his own masculine integrity.<br /><br />Though we didn't follow Mare on all her events, I did position Ava at the transition station and the finish line. These viewpoints were strategic, I thought, in cheering her on and to boost morale, which they were, but by doing so I never thought I would expose Ava to scenes that by film standards could be considered PG-13. Broken, battered bodies, bleeding and suffering passed by us by the dozens. Several met their accidental tragedy mere feet from Ava's front row seat! Unfazed, she would mutter the occasional and indifferent "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ooooh</span>, bike fall down", or "run FASTER" as she nonchalantly laid further back in her stroller and sipped her juice.<br /><br />Great, I thought, as visions of a mother-daughter adrenaline junkie team, leaving dad in the dust, raced through my mind. I guess I better get my running shoes on.<br /><br />Fantastic job, Babe!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-84349846093949519272008-08-30T19:54:00.001-06:002008-10-20T15:32:31.737-06:00I am a Triathlete<div align="left"><strong>Jordanelle Sprint Triathlon, August 23, 2008</strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center">Training miles spent on the bike since April: <strong>324<br /></strong>Training hours spent in the pool since February: <strong>about 42</strong><br />Days spent sick directly preceding race day: <strong>7<br /></strong>Doses of Zicam taken in a desperate attempt to get well: <strong>at least 30<br /></strong>Large fleshy things encountered in the water determined not to be human: <strong>1<br /></strong>Kicks perpetrated upon my person in the water: <strong>about 10<br /></strong>Kicks to the ribs sufficient to knock the air out: <strong>1<br /></strong>Proportion of the swim that I actually swam front crawl: <strong>½<br /></strong>Change in confidence while swimming in a wetsuit versus without: <strong>+50%<br /></strong>Lifeboats dispatched for my assistance: <strong>0<br /></strong>Number of serious bike wipeouts witnessed firsthand: <strong>2<br /></strong>Increase in mph pace during bike race versus training sessions: <strong>2<br /></strong>Decrease in mph pace during foot race versus training sessions: <strong>0.85</strong><br />Ounces of water I drank after race with no pee to show for it: <strong>136<br /></strong>Hours spent in the pool since race day: <strong>0</strong></div><strong><div align="left"><br /></strong>I have, of course, been meaning to write about the event for which so much of my time and energy have been sucked away. I decided that writing a blog is similar to keeping a scrapbook. I get so behind in documenting things that I avoid doing it because of the pile of things left unsaid and the escalating guilt. But I really do want to talk about my race so here I am.</div><div align="left"><br />The night before the race Ava slept over at Grandma’s and I cried at the thought of spending my first night ever away from her. Jon and I drove up into the mountains just east of Jordanelle and slept in the back of the VW bus. Well actually I just lay in my sleeping bag in the back of the bus all night. But at least I got to the race on time, leisurely set up my gear, and had plenty of time to sit and enjoy the effects of my stomach turning flips.</div><div align="left"><br />Race day was beautiful, sunny, and not too hot. The water temp was around 60 degrees and the swim felt like one big collective thrashing. After exiting the water and feeling like I was just beaten with a club, getting on the bike was like relaxing in a lazy boy. The bike route was absolutely beautiful and I breezed through the 14 miles. By the time I started running, I had nothing left to give due to being sick all week but shuffled through and finished in a respectable timeframe. I know if I had been feeling strong and well at the start I could’ve raced much faster but honestly I was just happy to be there taking part. This race was only the beginning.</div><div align="left"><br />Thanks to Jon, Mom, and my sisters for willingly taking Ava for many of my training sessions. Thanks to Ava for making a simple bargain with me: enduring training runs in the stroller and yelling out “faster, mama!” in exchange for a simple cup of M&Ms. And thanks to you who simply cared and supported my goal; for your phone calls, emails, and shouts from the sidelines. <span style="TEXT-DECORATION: underline"><br /></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlwH3c0AdI/AAAAAAAAAJE/nT8O8w7l9gk/s1600-h/Marianne+Race+2008+012.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253853720750588370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlwH3c0AdI/AAAAAAAAAJE/nT8O8w7l9gk/s320/Marianne+Race+2008+012.jpg" border="0" /></a>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353302735429892630.post-84879484164451326312008-08-08T21:53:00.031-06:002009-06-02T12:49:56.413-06:00Jackson Hole 2008We spent the last week in July in Jackson, Wyoming for the annual Lauder family vacation. In terms of our own personal agenda, this was the laziest vacation in our history. We always plan to do some camping or set out to hike some grandiose trail for a few days on our own. Even the last couple of years when Ava was still tiny we managed to hike far up into the Tetons and explore some Yellowstone backcountry. This year? I think Jon and I are cumulatively just worn out. The thought of being up half the night with Ava because she won’t sleep anywhere but her own bed and then having to deal with her grumpiness all day was enough to keep us firmly grounded at the condo with the rest of the family. I fear our survival instinct is growing stronger than our need for adventure….ugh, we’re becoming old fuddy-duddies.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div>Happily, Ava slept much better than anticipated (which doesn’t really say much considering I expected absolute insomnia hell) and I didn’t even have to share my bed with the little wiggler. Every night she kicked around in her Pack-n-Play with the whole extra inch it gave around her height. But at least she slept and only woke up crying once or twice the whole week. Huzzah!</div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOozIGF2KeI/AAAAAAAAAJs/EnWqlZJHh8Y/s1600-h/IMGP7602.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254068129448208866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOozIGF2KeI/AAAAAAAAAJs/EnWqlZJHh8Y/s320/IMGP7602.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOoxAu7iStI/AAAAAAAAAJk/nGqRchk_8uI/s1600-h/IMGP7590.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254065803948608210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOoxAu7iStI/AAAAAAAAAJk/nGqRchk_8uI/s320/IMGP7590.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>The most blissful moments of the trip for me were spent on my 32 mile road bike trek. I was only going to go out for about an hour and headed out behind town and north to Teton Village. But when I arrived there in no time at all and saw the entrance to Teton NP right there, I decided to keep going, probably against my better judgment since I had no ID, no wallet, no tools, and no food. I had nothing with me but a couple of water bottles. The woman at the entrance station graciously let me enter for free and about 10 seconds after that (cover your ears, Jeffrey) I began wondering how my super-duper speedy lightweight road bike would perform on a rocky, holey dirt road. Looking back, I realize just how lucky I was to escape a flat tire or a dropped chain and having to walk the 15 miles back to town. So the ride was sketchy and slow there for a bit, but boy, was it gorgeous! There’s something about the Teton Valley landscape that just absolutely feels like home to me. Every rock and flower feels familiar. I sped into Moose, then headed south along the main park highway and just managed to avoid being flattened by some gargantuan motorhome.<br /></div><div>That Saturday night all the Teerlinks attended the Jackson Rodeo. Ava just couldn’t get over the sight of the carnival rides on the other side of the arena and pitched a fit so I was able to watch all of 10 minutes of the rodeo before taking her out to the petting zoo and home to bed. But I think overall everyone else enjoyed it.</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254063761636541522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOovJ2uZRFI/AAAAAAAAAJc/qPy8pmkvCsY/s320/IMGP7516.JPG" border="0" /> As tradition holds, everyone in the family gathers for an afternoon at String Lake. We eat lunch, paddle in the canoes, catch frogs, and jump off rocks. I bought Ava a little blowup floatie shaped like a spaceship and was rewarded with a big, beautiful perma-grin on her shining face. But mostly she just loves to throw rocks in the water and wade around in her Tevas so I’ve learned that toys are just baggage when there’s splashing to be done. We took our turn in the Keowee and Ava even let Jon paddle for a bit.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlvEeYg8JI/AAAAAAAAAI0/qebM-RKc5RQ/s1600-h/IMGP7522.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253852562970439826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlvEeYg8JI/AAAAAAAAAI0/qebM-RKc5RQ/s320/IMGP7522.JPG" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlvUiv0m-I/AAAAAAAAAI8/6oGAmaxrLZ8/s1600-h/IMGP7546.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253852839019846626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlvUiv0m-I/AAAAAAAAAI8/6oGAmaxrLZ8/s320/IMGP7546.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlvUiv0m-I/AAAAAAAAAI8/6oGAmaxrLZ8/s1600-h/IMGP7546.JPG"></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>One afternoon we took a stroll on our own to Phelps lake and Ava showed her true hiking colors. She was absolutely a trooper and hiked most of the way there on her own. Her little legs got tired on the way back so she rode on Jon's shoulders and made up for it by declaring that he must jump! off every rock in the trail. </div><br /><div></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SMbBhLH4psI/AAAAAAAAAIk/lE1FE7HfDHE/s1600-h/IMGP7569.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244091591785227970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SMbBhLH4psI/AAAAAAAAAIk/lE1FE7HfDHE/s320/IMGP7569.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlu2Plqb8I/AAAAAAAAAIs/dIw3DHDiGg0/s1600-h/IMGP7577.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253852318480887746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOlu2Plqb8I/AAAAAAAAAIs/dIw3DHDiGg0/s320/IMGP7577.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SMbBhLH4psI/AAAAAAAAAIk/lE1FE7HfDHE/s1600-h/IMGP7569.JPG"></a></div><br /><div>Other trip highlights included the traditional hike to Hidden "Waterfalldown" and the boat ride back across Jenny Lake and a visit to Rockefeller center. Pretty low key, lazy vacation. </div><br /><p align="justify"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254057847473502914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7px75Oijv_w/SOopxmwC-sI/AAAAAAAAAJU/gSaKbnzJ2pk/s320/IMGP7663.JPG" border="0" /></p><div>All in all, a MUCH better vacation than last year's Jackson trip simply because we all felt happier. We finally learned to lower our standards. Maybe we'll get braver and actually try camping again someday.</div><div></div></div></div></div>Mariannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17381455019930871927noreply@blogger.com3