<?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-8016127392127825656</id><updated>2012-02-16T12:34:47.510-08:00</updated><category term='Sisters'/><category term='Car'/><title type='text'>Princess of Fire</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-4899406541654655621</id><published>2011-03-06T21:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T21:02:53.618-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Neanderthals and Cupcakes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I read a post on Facebook by a friend who had recently fallen down in front of the grocery store while holding her toddler.&amp;nbsp; There were no serious injuries, with the exception of my friend's favorite jeans (may they rest in peace), but my friend and her baby both spent a few moments shedding some tears on a bench in front of the store.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My initial reaction was sadness that I wasn't there that day to help my friend up off the ground and give her a hug.&amp;nbsp; But, what bothered me even more was the fact that some dude saw the whole thing happen and he didn't even pause to help her up or ask if she and her baby were ok.&amp;nbsp; Seriously??!!??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have since come to the conclusion that Neanderthals still exist and and walk among us, and this uncaring grocery-store "dude" was one of them.&amp;nbsp; My guess is that he looked something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-03ueOPCjC_g/TXRgsmZytuI/AAAAAAAAAUE/u6jsCcASOyU/s1600/07b-Neanderthal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-03ueOPCjC_g/TXRgsmZytuI/AAAAAAAAAUE/u6jsCcASOyU/s320/07b-Neanderthal.jpg" width="258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my own encounter with one of these prehistoric oafs a  few months back on Savannah's birthday.&amp;nbsp; Savannah had been attending  preschool at Snow College, and she would be celebrating her 4th  birthday.&amp;nbsp; So, I thought it would be adorable to bring birthday cupcakes  for her to share with her friends.&amp;nbsp; I spent hours the night before baking, frosting and applying sprinkles to scads of mini cupcakes.&amp;nbsp; I carefully packaged them for their journey to preschool the next morning.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when I arrived, I realize that I would probably need some help carrying the cupcakes and Vivian through the double-glass doors leading into the school.&amp;nbsp; As I examined my plight, I met eyes with a college-aged boy who was volunteering that day.&amp;nbsp; He did nothing but stare at me with an expressionless face while I tried to balance hundreds of cupcakes and a squirmy toddler.&amp;nbsp; I sensed right away that he wasn't going to walk two feet to open the door for me, so I convinced myself that I could do it on my own.&amp;nbsp; Nope.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viv wiggled just as I was getting the first door open, and naturally, the cupcakes went crashing to the ground.&amp;nbsp; I prayed in vain that at least a few would be spared.&amp;nbsp; Again - Nope. I glanced up at the boy who had watched everything without a so much as an eye twitch, and the focus of my prayers shifted to keeping my composure so I wouldn't be tempted to ram the cupcakes up his nostrils.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-0XVAmWFXVe0/TXRV0YhEhnI/AAAAAAAAAT0/_bhlMWLIMU0/s320/Nov+7%252C+2010+053.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a gross cupcake substitute at the nearby Wal-Mart - cupcakes with blue frosting.&amp;nbsp; But let's be honest.&amp;nbsp; Preschoolers don't care about quality.&amp;nbsp; A cupcake is a cupcake, and it always tastes better when served on a Tinkerbell plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ZnQ6KXLVpgY/TXRWVUDq3hI/AAAAAAAAAT4/dimH9GPz1ew/s1600/Nov+7%252C+2010+059+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ZnQ6KXLVpgY/TXRWVUDq3hI/AAAAAAAAAT4/dimH9GPz1ew/s320/Nov+7%252C+2010+059+-+Copy.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The kids sang Happy Birthday to Savannah, and we played in the beautiful leaves before heading home.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-6MXeIfn81Cs/TXRW3xV9kdI/AAAAAAAAAT8/LLDBn4gvqog/s320/Nov+7%252C+2010+062.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Met any Neanderthals in your neck of the woods? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&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/8016127392127825656-4899406541654655621?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/4899406541654655621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2011/03/neanderthals-and-cupcakes.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/4899406541654655621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/4899406541654655621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2011/03/neanderthals-and-cupcakes.html' title='Neanderthals and Cupcakes'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-03ueOPCjC_g/TXRgsmZytuI/AAAAAAAAAUE/u6jsCcASOyU/s72-c/07b-Neanderthal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-5765508357780123618</id><published>2011-01-16T21:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T21:48:34.899-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Small Town Livin'</title><content type='html'>Living with my family in Mayfield, UT has &lt;strike&gt;learned&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;me&lt;/strike&gt; taught me a lot about small town life.&amp;nbsp; Although I lived in an even smaller town until I was 12, I had forgotten what can happen to a sociological group when imprisoned in small clusters by miles of pasture land and a limited dating pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in case you ever find yourself in a farming town with a population of 400 people or less, here is a list of things you may not be adequately prepared for:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&amp;nbsp; Everyone knows everything about everyone else...or, at least, they think they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPHCe5_WBI/AAAAAAAAATk/3PC6w8Bhicg/s1600/Big+Truck.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPHCe5_WBI/AAAAAAAAATk/3PC6w8Bhicg/s200/Big+Truck.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&amp;nbsp; The bigger the truck, the bigger the jerk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&amp;nbsp; Big trucks are actually really, really fun to drive.&amp;nbsp; (Try not to think about #2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPHCe5_WBI/AAAAAAAAATk/3PC6w8Bhicg/s1600/Big+Truck.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTO-YqPAEtI/AAAAAAAAATE/XenOu-HNFoQ/s1600/Jan+15%252C+2011+005.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTO-YqPAEtI/AAAAAAAAATE/XenOu-HNFoQ/s320/Jan+15%252C+2011+005.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&amp;nbsp; If your car goes off the road....  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;you have about 30 seconds before Brawny men appear out of nowhere to assist you.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPA7H2D9sI/AAAAAAAAATM/TnhkFR9N8JM/s320/Nov+7%252C+2010+046.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTO-YqPAEtI/AAAAAAAAATE/XenOu-HNFoQ/s1600/Jan+15%252C+2011+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.&amp;nbsp; If you want your mail, you must drive a mile to the post office to pick it up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBJ71G2uI/AAAAAAAAATQ/xccdBipYl04/s1600/Nov+7%252C+2010+048.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBJ71G2uI/AAAAAAAAATQ/xccdBipYl04/s320/Nov+7%252C+2010+048.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.&amp;nbsp; If you don't want to fire up your big truck just to get your mail, simply drive your four wheeler.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBL01dWNI/AAAAAAAAATU/G9Oks0TdKJo/s1600/Nov+7%252C+2010+051.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="292" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBL01dWNI/AAAAAAAAATU/G9Oks0TdKJo/s320/Nov+7%252C+2010+051.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Please note:&amp;nbsp; Driving a four wheeler instead of a big truck to the post office does not preclude you from obeying the speed limit of 15 mph assigned specifically to four wheelers and snow mobiles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTO-pfNNpXI/AAAAAAAAATI/TSD5SMLOE-Y/s1600/Jan+15%252C+2011+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTO-pfNNpXI/AAAAAAAAATI/TSD5SMLOE-Y/s320/Jan+15%252C+2011+009.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;7.&amp;nbsp; Mullets will always be in style, so start growing yours now so it will be nice and thick by the time you pull into town&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPHI5qAyaI/AAAAAAAAATs/HB6mEgU-SaU/s1600/random-guy-with-a-mullet-and-a-pickup.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPHI5qAyaI/AAAAAAAAATs/HB6mEgU-SaU/s320/random-guy-with-a-mullet-and-a-pickup.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;8.&amp;nbsp; Livestock outnumbers humans by at least 100 to 1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBiPbEeMI/AAAAAAAAATc/UU6T8-qUXU8/s1600/Nov+7%252C+2010+070.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBiPbEeMI/AAAAAAAAATc/UU6T8-qUXU8/s320/Nov+7%252C+2010+070.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;9.&amp;nbsp; Everywhere you go, warning signs for deer crossings line the roads.&amp;nbsp; However, as I ponder the landscape, I can't help but wonder if the deer are just trying to commit suicide by leaping in front of big trucks???? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPByF1JHXI/AAAAAAAAATg/9Pt7Cn2-tzs/s320/Nov+7%252C+2010+099.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPHI5qAyaI/AAAAAAAAATs/HB6mEgU-SaU/s1600/random-guy-with-a-mullet-and-a-pickup.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And last but not least,&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.&amp;nbsp; It is more shocking to discover that your neighbor is a Democrat vs. a Polygamist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Here's a bonus vocabulary lesson!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The use of proper grammar is unnecessary and sometimes confusing to others - over time, you will notice yourself using words like "aint".&amp;nbsp; Don't fight it.&amp;nbsp; Just go with the flow.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Tuesday is pronounced "Toos-dee" and Wash is pronounced "Worsh"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Vegetarian = you will eat the mashed potatoes that accompany your enormous steak&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Vegan = "V-Gun...what's a V-Gun?&amp;nbsp; Got to get me one of them!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you come across a group of men, refer to them as boys.&amp;nbsp; For example, "Heya boys!"&amp;nbsp; If you are talking with a girl, always refer to her as "hon".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope this list helps you feel more prepared when you visit me in Mayfield.&amp;nbsp; Hope to see you soon!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBJ71G2uI/AAAAAAAAATQ/xccdBipYl04/s1600/Nov+7%252C+2010+048.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBL01dWNI/AAAAAAAAATU/G9Oks0TdKJo/s1600/Nov+7%252C+2010+051.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPHI5qAyaI/AAAAAAAAATs/HB6mEgU-SaU/s1600/random-guy-with-a-mullet-and-a-pickup.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPBiPbEeMI/AAAAAAAAATc/UU6T8-qUXU8/s1600/Nov+7%252C+2010+070.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-5765508357780123618?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5765508357780123618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2011/01/small-town-livin.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5765508357780123618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5765508357780123618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2011/01/small-town-livin.html' title='Small Town Livin&apos;'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/TTPHCe5_WBI/AAAAAAAAATk/3PC6w8Bhicg/s72-c/Big+Truck.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-8743829957382379551</id><published>2011-01-02T18:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T19:49:17.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Been gone for awhile</title><content type='html'>I've put this entry off long enough, and with a New Year's Resolution to update the blog every week, I can't put it off anymore.  The last few months have been painful, and I haven't wanted to write about them.  But, some day, I know I'm going to look back on them and find something to be thankful for.  It always works like that, doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently living in UT with my 2 kiddos, my mom and two sisters...and no Hyrum.  No, we're not separated, and yes, we DO want to live together.  That's the first thing people ask (or at least they think it and don't dare ask) so I thought I would just get that out of the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started about a year ago when Hyrum was looking for a better job and came across the training programs offered by the National Guard.   He decided to apply and begin taking their litany of tests and physicals to see if he would qualify for anything interesting.   We were excited to learn that he scored in the highest percentile on the basic tests.  Consequently, he qualified to take another rigorous test for language studies, which he also passed!  We found out later that only a very small percentage of people pass this test, so Hyrum definitely had something to feel proud of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an answer to our prayers!  Not only would Hyrum get some training for a career that he would really enjoy, but he would be well paid during training!!  It felt like such a miracle, and we made preparations to change our lives accordingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plan was for him to go to boot camp on Aug. 2nd, then  Military Intelligence training in October, and finally Arabic school in  Monterrey, CA for 18 months.  We were SOOO excited for this adventure  and the opportunity for Hyrum.  I've never been more proud of Hyrum or  happier for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when he left for boot camp, we both quit our  jobs and ended our leases for our car and apartment.  Everything was  lined up for the next two years.   However, when he got to boot camp, they  found a tiny problem w/ one of his eyes, and told him he would need to be discharged.  The Guard knew about it before, but thought it wouldn't be a problem.  Apparently, the Army was far more picky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He spent weeks in limbo at boot camp hearing the Army say he was disqualified, and also hearing the National Guard say they would fight to keep him in their program.  When we learned that the Army was overstaffed already by 115%, we knew they were just trying to weed people out, and that he would definitely be coming home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been more deflated, depressed, angry,  worried, frustrated, disappointed, confused, and hurt in my  life!  Our miracle was suddenly gone in a flash.  Instead of our  adventure, I was enveloped in chaos of thought.  What now?  Should I go  back to work?  Should Hyrum go to school?  Should we move in with family?  Should Hyrum look for a new job?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part was not being able to discuss any of this with Hyrum, because he wasn't allowed to use the phone.  I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I felt completely alone and helpless.  Worst of all, I felt abandoned by God.  Why did He open the doors to this amazing opportunity for us and then slam the door once we started to walk through?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time Hyrum got  home, we only had days to figure out what to do.  We simply didn't have  money to start a new apartment least or to buy another car.   We tried to renew our  lease for the apartment, but there was already a new renter in place.    We decided that I would find a full-time job, and Hyrum would go to  school full time.  But every time I looked for a job, I got a sick  feeling that it was the wrong thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So,  we decided that he should stay in Seattle with his family and keep working for UPS, since he gets great benefits there and is next in line for a full-time driver position, and I would live with my family in Utah.  My dad drove up to Seattle in his truck and drove the kids, our meager belongings and me to the tiny village of Mayfield, UT.  And here we've been since the end of August.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people can't understand why I'm being so "selfish" and not using my CPA  license to support us.  But I know what it's like for kids in daycare,  since my mom did it for 18 years, so I can't do it to my kids.  And I can't deny the sick feeling I get whenever I look for a job, so the other option is to stay faithful that Hyrum will get a better job or a promotion soon, and we will be together again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the time I've been here, my dad passed away, and I have learned a lot about living in a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;tiny&lt;/span&gt;  town.  More about those things later.&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways,  that is an update on where I've been and where I am today.   Everyone tells me it's all  for a reason.  I know that in my head, but my heart is still hurting.    I'm still have a hard time trusting Heavenly Father or staying positive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever felt really, really let down by God before?   If so, how did you deal with it?  How did you recover your faith?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-8743829957382379551?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8743829957382379551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2011/01/been-gone-for-awhile.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/8743829957382379551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/8743829957382379551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2011/01/been-gone-for-awhile.html' title='Been gone for awhile'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-7080771258176741020</id><published>2010-05-17T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T14:16:21.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One item off the list</title><content type='html'>I've been feeling a bit down on myself lately, because I have such a long list of things that I want to do, and not nearly enough time or energy to do them.  I often feel as though I would be a truly amazing person if I just had another hour to sleep at night and another hour to cross things off of this list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the list items is to maintain a regular blog in lieu of having to make scrapbooks.   I've tried time and again to psyche myself up to make adorable books for my kids filled with pictures adorned with fancy borders, witty captions by each picture and stickers a plenty.  But let's be honest.  I'm a boring accountant with little-to-no creative abilities, so it's never happened.  I still don't even have so much as a photo album of anything I have done since my mom stopped making books for me when I was 8.    All I've got is a few shoe boxes of pictures from college, summers in Alaska, and my mission in Holland.   And worst of all, the vast majority of the pictures I've taken of Savannah and Viv are still living in files on my computer.   Ah...the guilt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our Beehives class on Sunday, we talked about Family History and why it is so important to keep records for yourself.  (I wasn't planning to be there, because someone needed to stay home and wipe the runny noses that Viv and Savannah inherited from the neighbor kids.  Hyrum offered to stay so I could enjoy a full 3 hours of church without having to deal with a single melt down.  What a gem!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the lesson, at first I could only feel guilt that I had not been more perfect at keeping records.  I kept having flash-forwards (is that a word?) of Viv and Savannah whining, because they were the only kids who didn't have thick scrapbooks with every one of their precious quotes in calligraphy.  But the teacher, Debbie, whipped out the most amazing book that she had published herself using her blog entries.  She also had photo albums with just pictures - no witty captions or stickers -- and simple writing on the back listing the date, place and who was in the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a Forrest Gump moment!!  (From the scene in the movie when he is a child running away from bullies and his leg braces fall off.  His face is priceless.)   I thought, "I can do this!  It can be simple.  I don't have to compete with all my Utah relatives and their entire rooms dedicated to mountains of scrap-book stickers and tiny bits of paper cutouts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here I am.  Adding to the family blog. And I am going to do my best to update it at least once every week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GtgembnNI/AAAAAAAAARQ/AwDz6sDZmaU/s1600/May+15,+2010+006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GtgembnNI/AAAAAAAAARQ/AwDz6sDZmaU/s400/May+15,+2010+006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472345795713539282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;This week, we got to battle Viv's wild orphan hairdo.  Savannah thinks it's just hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GvUUdOrOI/AAAAAAAAARw/sp5YXyJc4i4/s1600/May+15,+2010+011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GvUUdOrOI/AAAAAAAAARw/sp5YXyJc4i4/s400/May+15,+2010+011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472347785855413474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wow.  Better go find the comb.  She's starting to look a bit feral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_Gt3PODecI/AAAAAAAAARY/XOAxkkq3Kj4/s1600/May+15,+2010+021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_Gt3PODecI/AAAAAAAAARY/XOAxkkq3Kj4/s400/May+15,+2010+021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472346186721753538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GuHC69dNI/AAAAAAAAARo/lNy-MNafBe4/s1600/May+15,+2010+026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GuHC69dNI/AAAAAAAAARo/lNy-MNafBe4/s400/May+15,+2010+026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472346458298348754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hyrum's sister, Sage, is on her high school water polo team, and we got to see her play against Mercer Island.  The game was rather exciting to watch, and I have a whole new appreciation for the sport.  Did you know that the players are not allowed to put their feet on the bottom of the pool during the entire 45 minutes of play?  I was exhausted just from watching their warm ups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GuB8CqEmI/AAAAAAAAARg/GmsxInIs7aY/s1600/May+15,+2010+025.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GuB8CqEmI/AAAAAAAAARg/GmsxInIs7aY/s400/May+15,+2010+025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472346370552238690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sage did amazingly well against the aggressive girls of Mercer Island.  We enjoyed cheering for her, and we are very proud of her for taking on such a challenging sport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya next week!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-7080771258176741020?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7080771258176741020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2010/05/one-item-off-list.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/7080771258176741020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/7080771258176741020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2010/05/one-item-off-list.html' title='One item off the list'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S_GtgembnNI/AAAAAAAAARQ/AwDz6sDZmaU/s72-c/May+15,+2010+006.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-592439719856554441</id><published>2010-05-02T15:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T17:50:43.752-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What happens after April 15th</title><content type='html'>Like every year during tax season, I start compiling a list of things that I want to do, but that have to wait until after the April 15th deadline.  And every year, the list grows until I feel more busy after April 15th than during.  (I also swear that every busy season is my last, and this time I mean it!)  The list usually includes things like: go to the dentist, clean out closets, get haircuts, update my blog, lose the 15 pounds I gained from 3 months of continual sitting, re-introduce myself to Savannah and Vivian, and finally watch one of those dusty Netflix movies that I ordered back in early January.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One item that has been on the list since I moved here 6 years ago is to visit the Tulip Festival in Mt. Vernon.   According to the website and everyone who's been there, visitors are treated to endless rows of colorful tulips as far as the eye can see.  I served my mission in Holland, and tulips are my favorite flower, so naturally, I have been very anxious to visit.  But every year, the other items on the list preclude us from making the journey.  There was NO WAY that we were not going to make it there this year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The anxiety built through the first couple weeks in April as numerous friends on Facebook posted beautiful pictures of themselves and their families all squatting besides gorgeous tulips.  I could imagine myself there too - struggling to get at least one good picture of everyone smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to go on Monday, April 26th, because it was supposed to be the only day that week with good weather.  Additionally, the website said tulips would only be there through the month of April, so we had to hustle.  We got everyone dressed, packed and ready for the journey.  Last thing we needed to do was to print off driving directions.  Yay!!  We were really going!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I checked the website for current conditions.  What?  "Long rows of tulips are now gone."  Ahhh!!!  Nooooo!!!!!  How could they do this?  They said the tulips would be there through April.  Unbelievable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we were all ready for a day outside, we decided to go to the zoo instead.  Viv has been obsessed with Signing Time - The Zoo Train, so we thought she might really enjoy it.  Turns out to be a great choice!  The weather was perfect and hardly anyone was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94GQNS6YjI/AAAAAAAAAPo/cJm4nPGBovw/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94GQNS6YjI/AAAAAAAAAPo/cJm4nPGBovw/s400/Zoo+April+2010+016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466813873191019058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; Instead of trying to get pictures with everyone smiling in front of  pretty flowers, I spent the day trying to get everyone to smile in front  of various animals.  I swear they were excited to see giraffes, but you  would never know from this picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94Ghaaa7oI/AAAAAAAAAP4/uEtcytKZE6Y/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94Ghaaa7oI/AAAAAAAAAP4/uEtcytKZE6Y/s400/Zoo+April+2010+017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466814168769949314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Elephants!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94Gmh_c-_I/AAAAAAAAAQA/oiMchLo3mGk/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94Gmh_c-_I/AAAAAAAAAQA/oiMchLo3mGk/s400/Zoo+April+2010+019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466814256703667186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to see an array of beautiful owls, hawks and eagles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94GvRpWjkI/AAAAAAAAAQI/2tcOE9b-EbY/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94GvRpWjkI/AAAAAAAAAQI/2tcOE9b-EbY/s400/Zoo+April+2010+021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466814406934826562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viv's favorite - the bears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-6bfd14b35b4e385d" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6bfd14b35b4e385d%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331613110%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D71E2EA7D2F67A2502DF89E3CC5411E45E899836C.4097AA8D9E8987399E11399AAFFAFBF4B762FBE5%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6bfd14b35b4e385d%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DJzLmC2BSJqSbGL4dZL6lWziq72A&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6bfd14b35b4e385d%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331613110%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D71E2EA7D2F67A2502DF89E3CC5411E45E899836C.4097AA8D9E8987399E11399AAFFAFBF4B762FBE5%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6bfd14b35b4e385d%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DJzLmC2BSJqSbGL4dZL6lWziq72A&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's trying so hard to say "bears".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94HHzQDw2I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/8J-jsq-q1HY/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94HHzQDw2I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/8J-jsq-q1HY/s400/Zoo+April+2010+027.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466814828272403298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Savannah's favorite - the carousel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94HSS3C9QI/AAAAAAAAAQY/zqeUhtVjdz0/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94HSS3C9QI/AAAAAAAAAQY/zqeUhtVjdz0/s400/Zoo+April+2010+033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466815008556119298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This peacock really liked Viv.  She got nervous with it so close.  I had to shoo him away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94HbIa-qhI/AAAAAAAAAQg/VmnC6q3u0GM/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+040.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94HbIa-qhI/AAAAAAAAAQg/VmnC6q3u0GM/s400/Zoo+April+2010+040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466815160372865554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He was a little offended that I tried to get rid of him, so he showed us his finery.  Then, a guy waked between him and Viv, and the peacock honked and chased him.  The guy screamed and ran.  It was pretty funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94HliqmxvI/AAAAAAAAAQo/G1Nre5jhSSY/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+042.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94HliqmxvI/AAAAAAAAAQo/G1Nre5jhSSY/s400/Zoo+April+2010+042.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466815339216422642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The penguins put on quite a show for Savannah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94Hvhl8iCI/AAAAAAAAAQw/3IN5X8XECP0/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94Hvhl8iCI/AAAAAAAAAQw/3IN5X8XECP0/s400/Zoo+April+2010+045.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466815510727133218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94aYEo__PI/AAAAAAAAARI/o7rqZf9Cw50/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+048.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94aYEo__PI/AAAAAAAAARI/o7rqZf9Cw50/s400/Zoo+April+2010+048.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466835998539250930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The gorillas were the most memorable of the day.  We were really excited to see the first one until we saw that he was busily eating a handful of his poop.  He just tasted it at first, then he wolfed down the rest.  Savannah was completely aghast, so we had to move along.   We were all relieved to see that this one was feeding her baby milk and not poop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94IALdKa7I/AAAAAAAAARA/DhuY2wjl1b0/s1600/Zoo+April+2010+051.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94IALdKa7I/AAAAAAAAARA/DhuY2wjl1b0/s400/Zoo+April+2010+051.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466815796842490802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last stop was the petting zoo.  The kids loved being so close to the farm animals.   Just as we were packing up to go, it started to rain, and we made it just in time to the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, a perfect day.  We decided the kids probably had a much better time at the zoo than seeing the tulips.  But we are DEFINITELY going to see them next year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-592439719856554441?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/592439719856554441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-happens-after-april-15th.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/592439719856554441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/592439719856554441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-happens-after-april-15th.html' title='What happens after April 15th'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S94GQNS6YjI/AAAAAAAAAPo/cJm4nPGBovw/s72-c/Zoo+April+2010+016.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-5335883502642658599</id><published>2010-02-04T10:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T10:45:23.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The day after Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O86Easr4I/AAAAAAAAAO8/FwJRISVtyAE/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+090.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O86Easr4I/AAAAAAAAAO8/FwJRISVtyAE/s400/Christmas+25+2009+090.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427889681715736450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the arrival of Christmas came the arrival of the much-desired bike. Unfortunately, no one told Savannah that she would actually have to learn to ride it. After watching other kids at the park breeze past her on their bikes with huge smiles on their faces, she naturally assumed it would be that simple. However, she soon realized that riding a bike takes skill, coordination and a bit of courage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O9CmNhHSI/AAAAAAAAAPE/G3z-8re3RGc/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+092.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O9CmNhHSI/AAAAAAAAAPE/G3z-8re3RGc/s400/Christmas+25+2009+092.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427889828226211106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hyrum demonstrated the proper facial expression when riding a bike. She was pretty amused by this and commanded him to "ride it!!" with his feet on the pedals. It took awhile to convince her that this was physically impossible for daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O9PVqFCuI/AAAAAAAAAPM/qKr0qzJEisQ/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+094.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O9PVqFCuI/AAAAAAAAAPM/qKr0qzJEisQ/s400/Christmas+25+2009+094.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427890047120902882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And there's Viv watching everything in stunned silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O-PJPOmFI/AAAAAAAAAPc/bjeMzqP-tS0/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O-PJPOmFI/AAAAAAAAAPc/bjeMzqP-tS0/s400/Christmas+25+2009+003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427891143298685010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In addition to a bike, Santa brought mommy a few extra lbs. To combat this, I've been doing torturous workouts. Savannah patiently waits for me to finish so she can have a turn. She carefully watches the instructor and lets me know when I am doing anything wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O9_jy_TmI/AAAAAAAAAPU/fz0Y1njnwrY/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O9_jy_TmI/AAAAAAAAAPU/fz0Y1njnwrY/s400/Christmas+25+2009+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427890875550092898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I keep thinking she will give up after the first two minutes, but she does the entire 40 minute workout with precision. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O8npeYw6I/AAAAAAAAAOs/dBOdh07z_aQ/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+097.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 392px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O8npeYw6I/AAAAAAAAAOs/dBOdh07z_aQ/s400/Christmas+25+2009+097.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427889365245805474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After exhausting workouts and scary bike rides, it's time to kick back on a Princess sofa and watch a movie with your best friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-5335883502642658599?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5335883502642658599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-after-christmas.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5335883502642658599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5335883502642658599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-after-christmas.html' title='The day after Christmas'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S1O86Easr4I/AAAAAAAAAO8/FwJRISVtyAE/s72-c/Christmas+25+2009+090.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-5254957684386542910</id><published>2009-12-31T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T21:55:12.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Christmas Ever</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As always, I have to begin with a picture of Viv.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyybhBlECI/AAAAAAAAAMs/GSYug_8_T1E/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyybhBlECI/AAAAAAAAAMs/GSYug_8_T1E/s400/Christmas+25+2009+009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421404237238439970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Now, on to Christmas.  I really think this has been my favorite Christmas since being married, which is probably because it's the first year I have a child who understands the magic.  Savannah fully embraced the concept of Santa Clause for the first time, which is good for bribes, but not good for sleeping on Christmas Eve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/Hyrum/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-6.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/Hyrum/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-7.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S0qWHAXuBSI/AAAAAAAAAOk/p9PvJDsTujc/s1600-h/Bear+book.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/S0qWHAXuBSI/AAAAAAAAAOk/p9PvJDsTujc/s400/Bear+book.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425313748223919394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Savannah has a book called &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sweet-Smell-Christmas-Scented-Storybook/dp/0375826432"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Sweet Smell of Christmas&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/a&gt;   It tells about a small bear whose Christmas experiences are chronicled by scratch-n-sniff stickers.  We've read the book so many times that the stickers have no more sniff, but we still love it.   I thought it would be fun to bring the book to life this year by recreating the bear's experiences for Savannah...starting with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyyjQ-iPJI/AAAAAAAAAM0/bJ5xzteDUzE/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyyjQ-iPJI/AAAAAAAAAM0/bJ5xzteDUzE/s400/Christmas+25+2009+012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421404370369658002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sugar cookies!  Grandma sent Christmas cookie cutters, so we had no choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szyyv7c0-dI/AAAAAAAAAM8/FWpE1n1L2-Q/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+023.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szyyv7c0-dI/AAAAAAAAAM8/FWpE1n1L2-Q/s400/Christmas+25+2009+023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421404587929434578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apple pie came next.  It's the first time I made pie from scratch.   The crust recipe called for 1 1/2 cubes of butter, but I read 1 1/2 cups.  I was so proud of my pie until I realized what I had done.    Now, when asked what my favorite flavor of pie is, I will say butter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szyy90sEv3I/AAAAAAAAANE/g8pXQ34j2fs/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+032.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szyy90sEv3I/AAAAAAAAANE/g8pXQ34j2fs/s400/Christmas+25+2009+032.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421404826632503154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then, we made gingerbread men.  Most of the men were decapitated soon after they were decorated.  It's their own fault for having 5 M&amp;amp;Ms per face.  (If you need a visual aide,  there is a poor little cookie corpse on the table.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyzGfetTfI/AAAAAAAAANM/2ku9LyjU0WU/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyzGfetTfI/AAAAAAAAANM/2ku9LyjU0WU/s400/Christmas+25+2009+039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421404975558118898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Next came the part where we hung candy canes on our dead tree.  How dead was it??  It was so dead that the branches snapped off when Savannah touched them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyzOgdjunI/AAAAAAAAANU/JI1tPoTtrx8/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+047.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyzOgdjunI/AAAAAAAAANU/JI1tPoTtrx8/s400/Christmas+25+2009+047.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421405113260685938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The dead tree put Savannah in a melancholy mood, which probably explains why she was not excited to show off her dilapidated gingerbread house.  On that sad note, she quickly went to bed after biting the head off of each cookie she left for Santa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyzVnwUVTI/AAAAAAAAANc/a6LmH8u1n3s/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyzVnwUVTI/AAAAAAAAANc/a6LmH8u1n3s/s400/Christmas+25+2009+049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421405235477501234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Santa came!  Look carefully at the dolls in the dollhouse.  They are crime scene evidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyzbiyJY_I/AAAAAAAAANk/HoBVe7yF340/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+051.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyzbiyJY_I/AAAAAAAAANk/HoBVe7yF340/s400/Christmas+25+2009+051.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421405337222210546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Savannah woke up at 4:00 ready to go.  However, Hyrum and I were not so willing.  We told her she had to wait.  She chose to "wait" on our bed and didn't fall asleep again until about 6:00.  Ugg..  When we finally went out to see what Santa had brought, we realized that she had already been out, because the doll family was in a different arrangement.  Gotcha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szyz8zcIEkI/AAAAAAAAAN8/DIzKGi0kCsY/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szyz8zcIEkI/AAAAAAAAAN8/DIzKGi0kCsY/s400/Christmas+25+2009+072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421405908628935234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Good thing we hid her main present behind the recliner, so we were able to see her face when she saw her bike for the first time.  For months, she's been saying that Santa was bringing her a bike and a "hat" (helmet).  Luckily, a very generous person left a gift card to Toys R Us on our door, so we were able to make her dreams come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyztRR2sLI/AAAAAAAAAN0/cE-yaO6-2gk/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+061.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyztRR2sLI/AAAAAAAAAN0/cE-yaO6-2gk/s400/Christmas+25+2009+061.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421405641761009842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Savannah wasn't the only one who got what she wanted from Santa. Vivian got a cool new book from Jake &amp;amp; Danielle, and Hyrum and I got matching Snuggies.  If you think a Snuggie is nerdy, it's because you don't have one.  Ever been working at the computer, and your blanket keeps slipping off your shoulders -- leaving your arms exposed?  You need a Snuggie!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szy0E9SMmdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/5-yfgEMjqDo/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+079.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szy0E9SMmdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/5-yfgEMjqDo/s400/Christmas+25+2009+079.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421406048710597074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After presents, we went over to see Grandpa Berg and the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szy3Z48luUI/AAAAAAAAAOc/OJe9Ub8t-88/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+081.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szy3Z48luUI/AAAAAAAAAOc/OJe9Ub8t-88/s400/Christmas+25+2009+081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421409706858363202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, we went over to the Torgerson's for Christmas dinner.  They had also invited the McFaddens and the Rolls.  Marty taught us how to make amazing snowflakes.  It took me about 30 minutes to cut one out, and anyone could see that a boring accountant had done it.  It was nothing like the ones Marty made!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szy0Q5yREiI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Y4SxzighJLw/s1600-h/Christmas+25+2009+087.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Szy0Q5yREiI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Y4SxzighJLw/s400/Christmas+25+2009+087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421406253929796130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner and snowflakes, we sat around and talked for awhile while Bella played with Savannah and her princess dolls.  It was a Christmas filled with love, excitement, friends, family, and magic.  I'm already excited for next year :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-5254957684386542910?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5254957684386542910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/12/best-christmas-ever.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5254957684386542910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5254957684386542910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/12/best-christmas-ever.html' title='Best Christmas Ever'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SzyybhBlECI/AAAAAAAAAMs/GSYug_8_T1E/s72-c/Christmas+25+2009+009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-8833473348825969424</id><published>2009-12-15T20:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T20:54:04.417-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess Who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SyhmTGToOZI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Hl-t3iwZmhE/s1600-h/Christmas+2009+012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SyhmTGToOZI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Hl-t3iwZmhE/s400/Christmas+2009+012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415691030209509778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Can you tell which baby is Savannah and which is Viv?  Same age (8 months), same weight (17 pounds), same length (28 inches), same hairdo ("alien baby" as the Allens call it) and the same crazy mommy (me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SyhkyUTneaI/AAAAAAAAAMU/Z-znvQjqTgE/s1600-h/Savannah+9+months.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SyhkyUTneaI/AAAAAAAAAMU/Z-znvQjqTgE/s400/Savannah+9+months.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415689367520246178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-8833473348825969424?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8833473348825969424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/12/guess-who.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/8833473348825969424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/8833473348825969424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/12/guess-who.html' title='Guess Who?'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SyhmTGToOZI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Hl-t3iwZmhE/s72-c/Christmas+2009+012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-4920613760550033399</id><published>2009-12-06T21:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T18:18:09.322-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Berg Turkey Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Viv woke up with a smile on her face, because she sensed that the day was somehow special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(PS - My mom wants me to point out that those are not her teeth , but rather, shiny lips)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyQ9WDVbaI/AAAAAAAAAMM/OWKGs_mO0hM/s1600-h/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyQ9WDVbaI/AAAAAAAAAMM/OWKGs_mO0hM/s400/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412360235758480802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Savannah is eating again - not just powdered donuts and chocolate milk - but actual food. (Hallelujah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) So, we decided to give thanks by having a Big Berg Turkey Party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyP3M4NqsI/AAAAAAAAAL8/nUEkDoAwOhE/s1600-h/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyP3M4NqsI/AAAAAAAAAL8/nUEkDoAwOhE/s400/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412359030705072834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;According to Savannah, a real party has candles and hats.  So, Hyrum made "turkey" hats with Savannah for all of us while I made dinner.  Don't turkeys have feathers in the back????&lt;br /&gt;(Note the burning candles in the mashed potatoes.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyPTYwCDxI/AAAAAAAAALs/tYCAiPEjX_o/s1600-h/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+029.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyPTYwCDxI/AAAAAAAAALs/tYCAiPEjX_o/s400/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412358415416692498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Savannah's favorite part - blowing out the candles.  I think I got all the wax out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyPvzOY_sI/AAAAAAAAAL0/uQ68lozZzc4/s1600-h/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+031.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyPvzOY_sI/AAAAAAAAAL0/uQ68lozZzc4/s400/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+031.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412358903559683778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;All is right with Savannah's world now that we have finally celebrated the life of that particular turkey.  Although, I don't think the turkey was too happy with the outcome of the party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyOb3iq3pI/AAAAAAAAALk/yXuhJLB9da8/s1600-h/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyOb3iq3pI/AAAAAAAAALk/yXuhJLB9da8/s400/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412357461609471634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And all is right with Vivian's world now that she has peas on her tray.&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/8016127392127825656-4920613760550033399?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/4920613760550033399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/12/big-berg-turkey-party.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/4920613760550033399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/4920613760550033399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/12/big-berg-turkey-party.html' title='The Big Berg Turkey Party'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxyQ9WDVbaI/AAAAAAAAAMM/OWKGs_mO0hM/s72-c/Turkey+Party+12-5-09+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-5770254163744597794</id><published>2009-11-27T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T22:33:02.622-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To eat or not to eat?</title><content type='html'>This Thanksgiving took the prize for the strangest and most frustrating so far.  It's usually one of my favorite holidays, but this year, I couldn't wait for it to be over.  Over the past three years of Savannah's life, she has gone through spurts of refusing to eat.  This usually starts with several days of chewing food and then letting it dribble out of her mouth onto the floor (or my shoulder), and then several more days of full blown fasting.  As fate would have it, Thanksgiving coincided with one of these bizarre flare-ups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBvVX9VbAI/AAAAAAAAAKk/tXUOQRWUX18/s1600/Thanksgiving+2009+018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBvVX9VbAI/AAAAAAAAAKk/tXUOQRWUX18/s400/Thanksgiving+2009+018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408945565471173634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Since I can't fathom Thanksgiving without gluttony, I tried every trick to convince Savannah that eating is more fun than not eating. We made pancakes for breakfast, but she refused to touch them.   (Seriously, are we related?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBwAhTp2tI/AAAAAAAAAK8/mhihTJ3xrDM/s1600/Thanksgiving+2009+024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBwAhTp2tI/AAAAAAAAAK8/mhihTJ3xrDM/s400/Thanksgiving+2009+024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408946306715081426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After many other failed attempts at even getting her to taste something, I whipped out the Holy Grail of kid bribes in our house -- olives!  She did go as far as to put them on her fingers, but not in her mouth.  Hyrum was kind enough to eat them for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBvmswPBpI/AAAAAAAAAKs/MvFvJpfbSI0/s1600/Thanksgiving+2009+020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBvmswPBpI/AAAAAAAAAKs/MvFvJpfbSI0/s400/Thanksgiving+2009+020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408945863111149202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, to distract myself from going crazy with frustration and worry about Savannah's "diet", I decided to trim Vivian's Gollum hair.  The mullet had to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBwQ983eKI/AAAAAAAAALE/LTGRnGRzOC4/s1600/Thanksgiving+2009+022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBwQ983eKI/AAAAAAAAALE/LTGRnGRzOC4/s400/Thanksgiving+2009+022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408946589282039970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ahhh...much better! (And thank you Hyrum for vacuuming while I cut her hair.  Nothing hypnotizes Viv like that frightening appliance.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBwjpiGdBI/AAAAAAAAALM/ol5Oh6lAigI/s1600/Thanksgiving+2009+036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBwjpiGdBI/AAAAAAAAALM/ol5Oh6lAigI/s400/Thanksgiving+2009+036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408946910218581010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My next project was to pack up my maternity clothes.  Yes, I was still wearing maternity clothes, and yes, Viv is 8 months old...and yes, I miss them.  (Don't judge.)  Hyrum was nice enough to do all the heavy lifting and didn't even complain about having to reorganize the dreaded storage closet.  What a gem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBwqYKS6zI/AAAAAAAAALU/8oxdFSXYEZg/s1600/Thanksgiving+2009+039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBwqYKS6zI/AAAAAAAAALU/8oxdFSXYEZg/s400/Thanksgiving+2009+039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408947025814416178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was finally time to go to Grandma's for dinner, Savannah threw the loudest and most intense tantrum I've ever seen.   This really confused me, because she had been very excited about going to the "Turkey Party".  I kept glancing down the street for the inevitable arrival of the police, but Hyrum was able to wrangle her into her car seat before they showed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always liked the song, "Over the river and through the woods", because of the cozy image it provides.  But in real life, there should be a verse about a crying three-year-old.  Kind of ruins things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBxB7IMTHI/AAAAAAAAALc/YuuRKEodk3g/s1600/Thanksgiving+2009+053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBxB7IMTHI/AAAAAAAAALc/YuuRKEodk3g/s400/Thanksgiving+2009+053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408947430337825906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;During dinner, Hyrum and I took turns holding Savannah and / or Vivian, so I didn't get any pictures of the food (or really get to eat much of it for that matter).  However, after a couple rounds of Lady and the Tramp, Savannah's spirits were lifted and she agreed to be in this picture with Viv, but she still refused to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were able to get her a doctor's appointment on the following Monday, but by then, she was eating again.  We still aren't sure why she does this.  Possible theories range from sore throats to teething, but no one is sure.  I just hope it's the last time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How was your holiday?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-5770254163744597794?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5770254163744597794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-eat-or-not-to-eat.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5770254163744597794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5770254163744597794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-eat-or-not-to-eat.html' title='To eat or not to eat?'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SxBvVX9VbAI/AAAAAAAAAKk/tXUOQRWUX18/s72-c/Thanksgiving+2009+018.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-400179052750440244</id><published>2009-10-03T19:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T09:15:02.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Six months!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgYbTuStJI/AAAAAAAAAKc/oLT84r8IBXw/s1600-h/September+27,+2009+032.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 236px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgYbTuStJI/AAAAAAAAAKc/oLT84r8IBXw/s400/September+27,+2009+032.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388583811578770578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I can't believe that our little Vivian is 6 months old!  In the short time that she's been with our family, we have gotten to know her pretty well.  For instance, we've learned that she really likes to eat pears, applesauce, red peppers, cucumbers, puffed cereal, and cupcakes (oh, dear).  She likes taking baths, being outside, squealing when happy...or bored...or upset, watching Signing Time with Savannah (jab my eyes out now!!!), playing with Ramen Noodles packages, and playing on the floor with and being held by her awesome daddy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgVKc-iwrI/AAAAAAAAAKE/vTT1wmvMwxY/s1600-h/September+27,+2009+050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgVKc-iwrI/AAAAAAAAAKE/vTT1wmvMwxY/s400/September+27,+2009+050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388580223470191282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here are some of the things that she doesn't like:  sleeping all night, being on her tummy, having her hair pulled (Savannah), being stepped on (Savannah), having her toys taken away (Savannah), and waiting to eat (Mommy), sitting in a dirty diaper (wouldn't anyone hate that?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgUyVxUpqI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/92ctQpycE1I/s1600-h/September+27,+2009+023.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 352px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgUyVxUpqI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/92ctQpycE1I/s400/September+27,+2009+023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388579809218832034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though many of the things that make Viv cry originate with her older sister, they are still crazy about each other.  Savannah still asks to hold her all the time, and Viv enjoys watching her sister play more than anything else.  They sure are cute together!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgWiSvmlLI/AAAAAAAAAKU/wAh_WR5tHqQ/s1600-h/September+27,+2009+026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgWiSvmlLI/AAAAAAAAAKU/wAh_WR5tHqQ/s400/September+27,+2009+026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388581732551660722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;PS - a friend commented that Savannah always has her mouth open when she smiles for the camera.  So, I told her to show me her teeth.  Hmmm...now Viv's mouth is open!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-400179052750440244?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/400179052750440244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/10/six-months.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/400179052750440244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/400179052750440244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/10/six-months.html' title='Six months!'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SsgYbTuStJI/AAAAAAAAAKc/oLT84r8IBXw/s72-c/September+27,+2009+032.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-5606897103292513534</id><published>2009-09-09T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T09:01:19.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Best Helper</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfNk29sd6I/AAAAAAAAAJo/u4aIVb6TqRI/s1600-h/Sweeping+the+Floor.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfNk29sd6I/AAAAAAAAAJo/u4aIVb6TqRI/s400/Sweeping+the+Floor.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379494313030612898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Savannah Grace is my very best helper.  I had no idea someone could enjoy doing chores so much.  If she hears me open the broom closet, she races over and insists on sweeping.  This usually means that the dirt on the floor gets moved from one end of the floor to the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfNV3ALJEI/AAAAAAAAAJg/AIyovlGGxSY/s1600-h/Cleaning+the+Mirror.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfNV3ALJEI/AAAAAAAAAJg/AIyovlGGxSY/s400/Cleaning+the+Mirror.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379494055342974018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She's also seen a commercial on tv where a mom makes a mess on her bathroom mirror, which she quickly resolves by reaching for nearby disposable disinfecting wipe to clean it with.  Savannah doesn't have access to these magic wipes, so whenever she feels that the mirror in the hall needs cleaning, she gets some of Vivian's baby wipes and smears them around on the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfMvwWDvFI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/5HGFxMG9sUg/s1600-h/Doing+Dishes.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfMvwWDvFI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/5HGFxMG9sUg/s400/Doing+Dishes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379493400720686162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Her current favorite is washing dishes.  But in order for a dish to qualify as something she is willing to wash, it already has to be clean.   My clean dishes are usually coated with a thick layer of crusty bubbles after being hand "washed".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfQJD7D91I/AAAAAAAAAJw/ZeIzZtv_Eco/s1600-h/Asleep+on+the+floor.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfQJD7D91I/AAAAAAAAAJw/ZeIzZtv_Eco/s400/Asleep+on+the+floor.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379497134007777106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After so much exhausting work, my happy helper takes a well-deserved nap, and it's my turn to secretly clean up after her helping :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-5606897103292513534?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5606897103292513534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-best-helper.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5606897103292513534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5606897103292513534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-best-helper.html' title='My Best Helper'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqfNk29sd6I/AAAAAAAAAJo/u4aIVb6TqRI/s72-c/Sweeping+the+Floor.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-425196527925124626</id><published>2009-09-05T20:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T20:31:56.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blackberries</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqFbKYvyI/AAAAAAAAAIw/qYApwe0ssE4/s1600-h/Blackberries.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqFbKYvyI/AAAAAAAAAIw/qYApwe0ssE4/s400/Blackberries.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378188652689538850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love living here in Western Washington where blackberries grow wild everywhere.  They don't seem to require a lot of maintenance.  Take, for instance, these huge bushes that grow behind our apartments.  Our backyard neighbors ignore them 365 days per year, and they still produce what looks like thousands of gorgeous berries every summer.  It drives me crazy to look out my window and watch them go to waste, since no one harvests them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqNN0beCI/AAAAAAAAAI4/AUg4pX-6p34/s1600-h/Grandpa+with+kids.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqNN0beCI/AAAAAAAAAI4/AUg4pX-6p34/s400/Grandpa+with+kids.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378188786546735138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it bothered my dad, too.  So, while he was here visiting last week, he slipped out of the house with a grocery bag, climbed up on the retaining wall behind our apartment and started picking any berries that he could reach.  Unfortunately, the sprinklers started while he was there and he got drenched!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqUVdSfaI/AAAAAAAAAJA/AfuBComfNgc/s1600-h/Wet+grandpa.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqUVdSfaI/AAAAAAAAAJA/AfuBComfNgc/s400/Wet+grandpa.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378188908856245666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here he is all wet and upset that I am taking his picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqcF5kkpI/AAAAAAAAAJI/cJi0z_8fY7E/s1600-h/Blackberry+cake.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqcF5kkpI/AAAAAAAAAJI/cJi0z_8fY7E/s400/Blackberry+cake.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378189042118857362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is that we made a delicious blackberry poppy seed cake with what he was able to pick.  I did have to supplement it with a few blueberries, because Savannah was eating them so fast that there weren't many left over for the cake :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-425196527925124626?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/425196527925124626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/09/blackberries.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/425196527925124626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/425196527925124626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/09/blackberries.html' title='Blackberries'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SqMqFbKYvyI/AAAAAAAAAIw/qYApwe0ssE4/s72-c/Blackberries.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-6044113256078691185</id><published>2009-09-02T17:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T17:25:36.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vivian's Blessing Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sp8K8t_4eQI/AAAAAAAAAIY/HyY4C_CdTe0/s1600-h/Mom+%26+Dad+-+Blessing+day.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 366px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sp8K8t_4eQI/AAAAAAAAAIY/HyY4C_CdTe0/s400/Mom+%26+Dad+-+Blessing+day.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377028518359628034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My mom and dad were here from Utah this weekend to be here for Vivian's blessing day.  It was so fun to have them here!  It was the first time they had seen Vivian, so it was really exciting.  They had come up a couple weeks before she was born, hoping to be here for the birth, but she had other plans...like coming 3 days late!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sp8LFbrDuPI/AAAAAAAAAIg/bfTUWXq2kSs/s1600-h/Grandma+and+Grandpa.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sp8LFbrDuPI/AAAAAAAAAIg/bfTUWXq2kSs/s400/Grandma+and+Grandpa.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377028668059269362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Savannah was ecstatic to see Grandma and Grandpa again - and not just because they bring treats and lots (and lots and lots) of presents.  I think I may need a yard sale now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sp8Lf_p9yQI/AAAAAAAAAIo/1vDGtncusek/s1600-h/Dad+%26+Viv+-+blessing+day.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sp8Lf_p9yQI/AAAAAAAAAIo/1vDGtncusek/s400/Dad+%26+Viv+-+blessing+day.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377029124394961154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The blessing was very sweet.  I was terrified that she was going to cry through the whole thing, because she was very fussy up until it began, then she calmed down and was quiet.  What a miracle!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-6044113256078691185?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6044113256078691185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/09/vivians-blessing-day.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/6044113256078691185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/6044113256078691185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/09/vivians-blessing-day.html' title='Vivian&apos;s Blessing Day'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sp8K8t_4eQI/AAAAAAAAAIY/HyY4C_CdTe0/s72-c/Mom+%26+Dad+-+Blessing+day.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-3896496763362516139</id><published>2009-08-25T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T20:31:07.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Firsts...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSmy8-WWGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/K1S9a9dqhVU/s1600-h/1st+Food%21.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSmy8-WWGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/K1S9a9dqhVU/s400/1st+Food%21.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374103649651152994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSl9uON2ZI/AAAAAAAAAHo/2BoxYmgwyyY/s1600-h/August+25,+2009+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSl9uON2ZI/AAAAAAAAAHo/2BoxYmgwyyY/s400/August+25,+2009+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374102735158106514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vivian enjoyed her first taste of real food -- a cucumber!  We eat a lot of veggies, and she was salivating watching her dad eat celery.  So he gave her a cucumber spear, and she sucked on it until there was nothing left but the skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later, she was really fussy around dinner time (note her red, swollen eyes) and she finally stopped crying when we gave her some baby cereal.  Unfortunately, the better mood didn't last too long, so she was sentenced to a bath and to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of bed, we got her a new crib!  I had been looking on Craigs List for a long time, but couldn't find a decent one for the right price.  On Saturday, I found a nice one for $50 - including the mattress, pad and a couple of sheets!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has been sleeping in Savannah's room for the past few nights.  She still wakes up, but not quite as much.  I will put pics up once I figure out what to do with the stuff that was displaced by the crib.  Some day, I will have adequate storage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSoeoREQDI/AAAAAAAAAIA/0wF9lRAYWhE/s1600-h/Bubbles%21%21.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSoeoREQDI/AAAAAAAAAIA/0wF9lRAYWhE/s400/Bubbles%21%21.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374105499518386226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even bigger news is that Savannah is now potty trained!!!!!  If you have never had to deal w/ diapers (both the mess and the price), you can't fully appreciate the enthusiasm we have at our home.  Every time she goes in the potty, you would think we had just won the lottery.  We jump up and down, clap, cheer, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Savannah likes to sing, "I'm a big kid now." Every time she says her prayers, she always includes how thankful she is that she goes in the potty. She must have heard that from us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSpGU7a4dI/AAAAAAAAAII/jYiSLg3urwk/s1600-h/More+bubbles.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSpGU7a4dI/AAAAAAAAAII/jYiSLg3urwk/s400/More+bubbles.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374106181522088402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Probably her favorite part of her new skill is washing her hands afterwards.  I've decided to let her make huge bubble messes for now.  I think she deserves it!  Hopefully, it will eventually replace the chocolate chips we were bribing her with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sure is fun to watch our little girls grow and hit milestones!  Some day, I will catch them smiling at the same time :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSqIl_yEmI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/WWXm9g9seic/s1600-h/August+25,+2009+006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSqIl_yEmI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/WWXm9g9seic/s400/August+25,+2009+006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374107319975154274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-3896496763362516139?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/3896496763362516139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/08/some-firsts.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/3896496763362516139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/3896496763362516139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/08/some-firsts.html' title='Some Firsts...'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SpSmy8-WWGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/K1S9a9dqhVU/s72-c/1st+Food%21.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-9058344576407979592</id><published>2009-08-17T20:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T21:04:44.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quinn the Chess Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobjK5iY3I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/HA5fpR4RpZc/s1600-h/Quinn+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobjK5iY3I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/HA5fpR4RpZc/s400/Quinn+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371135796627792754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On Saturday, Hyrum and I were very excited to see our dear friend, Quinn Hubbard!  We met when I was working at KPMG...soooo very long ago.  Quinn is an excellent photographer and a master chess player, so naturally, we had to take some pictures and play a few rounds of chess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SooctFublKI/AAAAAAAAAHg/lxgjgVh20eU/s1600-h/Chess.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SooctFublKI/AAAAAAAAAHg/lxgjgVh20eU/s400/Chess.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371137066549351586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well - I didn't play chess, because I get too frustrated, impatient and angry, but Hyrum was up to the challenge.  Notice how Quinn has a book that he is pulling his moves from.  What a cheater!  Actually, he has it memorized and was using it to teach some moves to Hyrum.  If you look closely, you can see Savannah's little arm reaching for some veggies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here are some of the pictures Quinn took of us:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobGSGI6mI/AAAAAAAAAGw/HLEhP7kBS1o/s1600-h/all_smiles%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobGSGI6mI/AAAAAAAAAGw/HLEhP7kBS1o/s400/all_smiles%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371135300343491170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's nice for a change to actually be in the pictures.  I am usually the one holding the camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobLx3pXMI/AAAAAAAAAG4/9j4oRDTJSB4/s1600-h/Help+me+daddy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobLx3pXMI/AAAAAAAAAG4/9j4oRDTJSB4/s400/Help+me+daddy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371135394771983554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobVZDxBvI/AAAAAAAAAHI/E2kGsxyeiEQ/s1600-h/Viv.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobVZDxBvI/AAAAAAAAAHI/E2kGsxyeiEQ/s400/Viv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371135559910622962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobR3ydzxI/AAAAAAAAAHA/0jj2WP3qGj4/s1600-h/Slide.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobR3ydzxI/AAAAAAAAAHA/0jj2WP3qGj4/s400/Slide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371135499440082706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quinn - you will need to come back soon.  We already miss you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-9058344576407979592?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/9058344576407979592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/08/quinn-chess-guy.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/9058344576407979592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/9058344576407979592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/08/quinn-chess-guy.html' title='Quinn the Chess Guy'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SoobjK5iY3I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/HA5fpR4RpZc/s72-c/Quinn+1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-7509070326399030294</id><published>2009-07-29T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T17:55:33.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Viv!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SnDsCU_NSZI/AAAAAAAAAGY/3Eplvp3gN-c/s1600-h/July+27,+2009+Sisters.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SnDsCU_NSZI/AAAAAAAAAGY/3Eplvp3gN-c/s400/July+27,+2009+Sisters.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364046680935975314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vivian is finally four months old!  At her checkup, we found out that she weighs 12 lbs. 12 oz and is 26 inches long.  That puts her in the 35% for weight and the 95% for height!  I think she is going to be tall and thin like her dad and big sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that I am not very good with tiny newborns.  Both of our girls have been high maintenance (Savannah much more than Vivian), and the last few months have been exhausting.  Viv was very fussy when we took her places.  I spent a lot of the time at church in the mother's lounge trying to get her to stop crying.  Whenever I took her to Young Women activities, she ended up crying and I would usually have to leave early.  Evenings were particularly hard, because she would cry for at least an hour or two every night, and there were many times I just wanted to get in the car and drive away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, the fussiness and long bouts of crying for no apparent reason are fading quickly as she matures and gets into a sleep schedule.  She is getting to be a lot more fun with big smiles and giggles.  One of her favorite things is to be held by Savannah.  She always looks for her in the room when she hears her talking.  I get the feeling that they will be good friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SnDuNs89ZiI/AAAAAAAAAGg/z0kyGlZV6JU/s1600-h/Shampoo+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SnDuNs89ZiI/AAAAAAAAAGg/z0kyGlZV6JU/s400/Shampoo+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364049075370812962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On a side note, another difficulty of having a newborn is not the newborn, but the sibling toddler.  Savannah is very good at waiting until I am distracted with Viv's poopy diapers to get into my makeup and other things that are off limits.  I frequently find her in the bathroom racing to try on every lipstick before I discover her.  Her latest was accomplishment was washing her own hair.  She managed to reach the shampoo and lather her hair.  What a mess!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SnDuSqxvtAI/AAAAAAAAAGo/ruV7-lyYmRA/s1600-h/Shampoo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SnDuSqxvtAI/AAAAAAAAAGo/ruV7-lyYmRA/s400/Shampoo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364049160686253058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-7509070326399030294?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7509070326399030294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/07/happy-birthday-viv.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/7509070326399030294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/7509070326399030294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/07/happy-birthday-viv.html' title='Happy Birthday Viv!'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SnDsCU_NSZI/AAAAAAAAAGY/3Eplvp3gN-c/s72-c/July+27,+2009+Sisters.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-4847497143211012453</id><published>2009-07-23T19:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T20:21:19.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep Glorious Sleep!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Smkj2HkRgLI/AAAAAAAAAGA/imz373C5HQ0/s1600-h/Sleeping+like+a+baby....JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Smkj2HkRgLI/AAAAAAAAAGA/imz373C5HQ0/s400/Sleeping+like+a+baby....JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361856244012384434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To every parent who has ever tried to sleep train a baby, my heart goes out to you!  I was lamenting in the last post about how I needed to get Vivian a place of her own to sleep.  Our dear pals, Debbie and Greg, loaned us their Play-n-Pak for her to sleep in until we get her a crib.  It is so wonderful to have a separate sleep space for her...except that she insisted on waking up every half hour.  So, I gave in and put her back in bed with me.  Grrrrr. That didn't really help much, since she was still waking up a million times every night.  It just meant that I didn't have to get out of bed to pick her up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Smkkcl7WPWI/AAAAAAAAAGI/Z_3nkLSByuw/s1600-h/I+love+my+fingers.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Smkkcl7WPWI/AAAAAAAAAGI/Z_3nkLSByuw/s400/I+love+my+fingers.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361856904997256546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough was enough!  Hyrum and I had been waiting until she turned 4 months old on the 25th to officially "sleep train" her, because that is when our book said she could pacify herself. As you can see, she is clearly pacified with her fingers.  (Yes, I know I'm a bad mother for putting my child on the counter top.  Let's just blame my poor judgement on lack of sleep :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Smknt0mV4zI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/HRCA3JG2cvQ/s1600-h/After+the+dentist.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Smknt0mV4zI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/HRCA3JG2cvQ/s400/After+the+dentist.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361860499528344370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our desperation, we began the sleep training journey last Friday.  So far, it's been pretty rough.  Hyrum is sleeping on the couch, Savannah is waking up in the middle of the night and is tired during the day, and I think I got about 2 hours of sleep last night.  But we have hope that she will figure it out soon.  Until then, I need some encouragement!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-4847497143211012453?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/4847497143211012453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/07/sleep-glorious-sleep.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/4847497143211012453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/4847497143211012453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/07/sleep-glorious-sleep.html' title='Sleep Glorious Sleep!'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Smkj2HkRgLI/AAAAAAAAAGA/imz373C5HQ0/s72-c/Sleeping+like+a+baby....JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-8086069234610796468</id><published>2009-06-22T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T09:43:49.985-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vivian the Bed Hog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sj-zxOhtCEI/AAAAAAAAAF4/35U7sKrMkoQ/s1600-h/Bed+hog.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sj-zxOhtCEI/AAAAAAAAAF4/35U7sKrMkoQ/s400/Bed+hog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350192540633860162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning with a sore neck, and I couldn't figure out why I hadn't slept well...until I realized how far Vivian had pushed me to the edge of the bed.  I was literally dangling off!   She even looks very pleased with herself.  I think the time has come to get her a crib.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-8086069234610796468?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8086069234610796468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/vivian-bed-hog.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/8086069234610796468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/8086069234610796468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/vivian-bed-hog.html' title='Vivian the Bed Hog'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sj-zxOhtCEI/AAAAAAAAAF4/35U7sKrMkoQ/s72-c/Bed+hog.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-5845441380966444072</id><published>2009-06-18T18:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T19:05:40.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Ice Cream!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjrsGA42JDI/AAAAAAAAAFo/kj0p6m_bDXM/s1600-h/June+18,+2009+011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjrsGA42JDI/AAAAAAAAAFo/kj0p6m_bDXM/s400/June+18,+2009+011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348847095517684786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Savannah loves ice cream cones!  She also loves to dance in front of a mirror in our hall.  Today, she combined her two favorite things, and her melted ice cream now decorates our hall closet doors.  I am still trying to figure out why she chose to lick the lemon juice bottle after eating her ice cream cone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sjrx2yzT9cI/AAAAAAAAAFw/9r3soPNYIfQ/s1600-h/June+18,+2009+015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sjrx2yzT9cI/AAAAAAAAAFw/9r3soPNYIfQ/s400/June+18,+2009+015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348853431108105666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-5845441380966444072?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5845441380966444072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-love-ice-cream.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5845441380966444072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/5845441380966444072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-love-ice-cream.html' title='I Love Ice Cream!'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjrsGA42JDI/AAAAAAAAAFo/kj0p6m_bDXM/s72-c/June+18,+2009+011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-6229771990463027818</id><published>2009-06-11T16:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T16:28:11.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy &amp; Daddy</title><content type='html'>Savannah's favorite movie right now is "Sleeping Beauty", which she pronounces "Sleeping A-Duty".  One of the most exciting parts, according to Savannah, is when Prince Philip comes riding in on his white horse and meets Briar Rose for the first time.  So romantic!  When he appears, she says, "Daddy!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjGRfSWVP_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/2atV-GS6s_M/s1600-h/Prince+Philip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 77px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjGRfSWVP_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/2atV-GS6s_M/s400/Prince+Philip.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346214199352967154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since then, every handsome man on tv or in pictures is also, "Daddy!"  As cute as this is, I couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't calling any women, "Mommy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several weeks later, I finally heard her say, "Mommy!" while watching Sleeping-A-Duty.  "Hooray!" I thought, "She must finally be associating the beautiful, slim-waisted, even-tempered, heroine with her mother."  I was flattered until I looked at who she was referring to.  It was none other than Maleficent -- the wick&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjGScLHwztI/AAAAAAAAAFY/dAWT5m_lTAc/s1600-h/Maleficent.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 113px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjGScLHwztI/AAAAAAAAAFY/dAWT5m_lTAc/s400/Maleficent.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346215245384830674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ed and dreaded villianess of the movie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does this mean?  Is mommy really that awful?  Am I that grumpy?  I think I need to examine my attitude :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjGSkVSMLqI/AAAAAAAAAFg/5pR7WZAFYI4/s1600-h/Captured.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 86px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjGSkVSMLqI/AAAAAAAAAFg/5pR7WZAFYI4/s400/Captured.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346215385551875746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-6229771990463027818?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6229771990463027818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/mommy-daddy.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/6229771990463027818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/6229771990463027818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/mommy-daddy.html' title='Mommy &amp; Daddy'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SjGRfSWVP_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/2atV-GS6s_M/s72-c/Prince+Philip.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-3126719699588937424</id><published>2009-06-08T14:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T14:15:09.908-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Car'/><title type='text'>Ode to the Green Eyed Lady...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Si1-YMd-UVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/vUTkQe0XRC0/s1600-h/June+5,+2009+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Si1-YMd-UVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/vUTkQe0XRC0/s400/June+5,+2009+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345067286887551314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tragedy struck the Bergs last week.  Someone with King County's "Traveling Library System" crashed into our precious little green car, the Green Eyed Lady (aptly named by my former roommate, Suzy).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never mind that she had not been driven for many months, she holds a special place in my heart as my first official car. She took me all over BYU campus, back and forth between Seattle and Utah, and finally, all over Seattle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She even helped bring Hyrum and I together when one night after Institute, he helped push her for me when she wouldn't start.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Savannah arrived, we stuffed her car seat in the tiny backseat and she patiently endured many bumpy rides.  We will miss the Green Eyed Lady.  May she rest in peace...or pieces....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-3126719699588937424?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/3126719699588937424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/ode-to-green-eyed-lady.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/3126719699588937424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/3126719699588937424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/ode-to-green-eyed-lady.html' title='Ode to the Green Eyed Lady...'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Si1-YMd-UVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/vUTkQe0XRC0/s72-c/June+5,+2009+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8016127392127825656.post-8547274201733255979</id><published>2009-06-07T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T18:09:59.451-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sisters'/><title type='text'>Hyrum's Little Clones</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sixfgf2E-gI/AAAAAAAAAEw/vciNyCw2PSg/s1600-h/Cute+Sisters.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sixfgf2E-gI/AAAAAAAAAEw/vciNyCw2PSg/s400/Cute+Sisters.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344751869690706434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SixfWI9I-fI/AAAAAAAAAEo/AhGVYHExU2M/s1600-h/Sitting+with+Dad.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i3Q70VQUzVY/SixfWI9I-fI/AAAAAAAAAEo/AhGVYHExU2M/s400/Sitting+with+Dad.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344751691747621362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am finally making a blog of our family!  It took a handsome husband and two kids to get me motivated enough to do it.  I am hoping this will help me keep in better touch with my wonderful friends and family :) Yes, that's gum in Savannah's mouth.  We're great parents!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8016127392127825656-8547274201733255979?l=seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8547274201733255979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/our-cute-girls.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/8547274201733255979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8016127392127825656/posts/default/8547274201733255979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seattlefireprincess.blogspot.com/2009/06/our-cute-girls.html' title='Hyrum&apos;s Little Clones'/><author><name>Fire Princess</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05888454047665893114</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/_i3Q70VQUzVY/Sixfgf2E-gI/AAAAAAAAAEw/vciNyCw2PSg/s72-c/Cute+Sisters.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry></feed>
