tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14089719022725639352024-02-07T00:38:13.927-05:00Five of NineSarcastic ramblings of a Suburban SuperwomanLisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-78649676254177243612008-12-28T00:05:00.011-05:002008-12-28T11:15:48.410-05:00Take Me Out to the Ballgame!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSo58XvdbeDzIS8cA-VI1dHpDWx2X_OLm93vt7_rRE7IdW4PQ8CDKum-Z0zTkzgl2_w2p6x0OT1nAMGXQwzxtvXzBocFANUFOQ7JyIHmFa0It_Cs6rPjD4IAn4GEy3Q2EK9JkTVBlhW0/s1600-h/IMG_2067.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSo58XvdbeDzIS8cA-VI1dHpDWx2X_OLm93vt7_rRE7IdW4PQ8CDKum-Z0zTkzgl2_w2p6x0OT1nAMGXQwzxtvXzBocFANUFOQ7JyIHmFa0It_Cs6rPjD4IAn4GEy3Q2EK9JkTVBlhW0/s400/IMG_2067.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284874091280547746" /></a><br />On Christmas night I did something I have never done before. I went to see a professional basketball game.<br /><br />Now the reason I have never done that before is because I was sure that it was something I would not like.<br /><br />But my son, Mr. Nice Guy, has lately become a huge basketball fan, and The Entrepreneur decided it would be nice if the whole family went to a game together.<br /><br />So off we drove to Cleveland to watch The Cleveland Cavaliers battle with the Washington Wizards to maintain their 14-game home winning streak.<br /><br />I thought I was going to die of boredom. I anticipated an anxiety attack from my fear of heights knowing we would have the worst seats at the very top of a gigantic arena.<br /><br />But you know what? <span style="font-weight:bold;">I had a blast!</span><br /><br />Who knew that there was so much more to basketball that what is going on with the actual game. If you get a little bit tired of watching the players dribble up and down the floor so what. There is something else to entertain you. There is the Jumbotron.<br /><br />There is a wonderful slice of American Pie up there on the big screen. You get to meet the players and pick the one you think is the best looking. Then there is the Mistletoe game, where they zoom in on a couple and force them to kiss.<br /><br />There are funny posters made by fans and close-ups of darling children who are fans in training.<br /><br />At half time you can watch a mini-concert and some guy getting paid $25 a ball for three minutes worth of long shots.<br /><br />At the time-out breaks the impossibly cheery cheerleaders will lead you in a yell or just kick up their gold boots for your entertainment.<br /><br />You can make some noise with plastic bats that are handed out to the crowd and make a mess throwing fake snow placed on your seat in party-favor bags. <br /><br />If you are lucky you might catch a T-shirt shot into the crowd or a lottery ticket attached to a mini-parachute that falls from the ceiling.<br /><br />Somewhere in all of that activity the game might get exciting. You might catch yourself on the edge of your seat in the final minutes of the game when the opposing team pulls ahead.<br /><br />You might realize that your normally reserved son is handing out hugs like candy when his team pulls ahead.<br /><br />After the win, you might wait calmly in the line to get out of the parking deck and join in with the fans who are honking endlessly in celebration.<br /><br />You may realize, like I did, that you were wrong about something you never wanted to do.<br /><br />It just might be a whole lot of fun.Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-5937096006425653622008-12-24T08:36:00.005-05:002008-12-24T08:48:30.334-05:00A Christmas Story<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1ttM8NBzEUh9Jwq5cKtB-DlLrjSa12D6Y_KxsxP3XNK79ISOQ5gdPgTCLA9DN3gctpFbwibwp1-HyZMF7_xymMZCVCZQzWxgdDbI_mchyphenhyphenQi2a0bCmx-BDub7kUwTwXB86iJwdHQ5zxQ/s1600-h/santa+giver.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 184px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1ttM8NBzEUh9Jwq5cKtB-DlLrjSa12D6Y_KxsxP3XNK79ISOQ5gdPgTCLA9DN3gctpFbwibwp1-HyZMF7_xymMZCVCZQzWxgdDbI_mchyphenhyphenQi2a0bCmx-BDub7kUwTwXB86iJwdHQ5zxQ/s400/santa+giver.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283353051816200002" /></a><br />Yesterday a friend who is struggling financially told me a story about how some of her co-workers stepped in to help her this holiday season.<br /><br />She and her husband are on a debt-repayment program and her entire salary is used for paying the payments. He lost his job in Corporate America and is doing manual labor to support the family.<br /><br />There are no purchased presents under her tree this year. For her children, she has made gift certificates redeemable for items they want as extra money becomes available.<br /><br />The other night, she answered the door, and one of her co-workers was standing there with an armload of groceries. She returned to her car and came back with a ham, two bottles of wine and several wrapped gifts.<br /><br />Someone had emailed her boss to let him know the tough times the family was having. An email went out to the department, and a collection began.<br /><br />My friend said it was hard to accept the gifts. But she said her feelings of gratitude were stronger than her feelings of embarrassment.<br /><br />She said that for once she feels the real meaning of Christmas and is so grateful to be working at a job where people really care about her.<br /><br />This story did a lot for me. It made me feel so grateful that I am able to give my children some things that they want and need this Christmas.<br /><br />And it made me realize that those of us who are lucky enough to be in that situation have an obligation to help those who are not.Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-72116391862552475742008-12-19T07:33:00.007-05:002008-12-22T08:32:36.076-05:00A Bunch of Winos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTWfVoUHnnn5rye8BpomhpmpHgdAlgZwzfOCuQB2AH9HnY34GVoJ_BoiPiVaV7f1NGBkLF0BSABUWN1QKUcM4cid4eLpcZiPexr76UJXaa6M8EmOgmpINy4ur_54j8iQnpKEqdey4uYA/s1600-h/wine.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTWfVoUHnnn5rye8BpomhpmpHgdAlgZwzfOCuQB2AH9HnY34GVoJ_BoiPiVaV7f1NGBkLF0BSABUWN1QKUcM4cid4eLpcZiPexr76UJXaa6M8EmOgmpINy4ur_54j8iQnpKEqdey4uYA/s400/wine.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282247173561161778" /></a><br />Every year my networking group has a gift exchange. The spending limit is $15. The rules are that you bring a wrapped gift and put it in the center table and then you come up according to a number you have drawn.<br /> <br />The first person picks a wrapped gift and then the second person can steal that gift or choose to open another one.<br /><br />There are 21 men and four women in this group.<br /><br />Each year I spend a lot of time contemplating the perfect gift because I want people to fight over my gift. I want them to love it and steal it from each other. <span style="font-weight:bold;">I want my gift to be the "it' gift of the holiday gift exchange.</span><br /><br />So far I am batting zero on that one, because I refuse to do the one thing that will ensure success: <span style="font-weight:bold;">I refuse to bring a bottle of wine.<br /></span><br />Bottles of booze are a big hit at the gift exchange. Yesterday a bottle of Shiraz was stolen 10 times.<br /><br />My carefully chosen gift of a high-end car snow scraper with an expendable pole was a complete dud, along with a thought-provoking book on how to increase sales, a pair of movie tickets and a box of gourmet chocolates.<br /><br />Maybe it's the economy.<br /><br />I guess there is a reason why they call them "spirits."Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-52122255430214337342008-12-17T07:28:00.009-05:002008-12-19T06:37:45.431-05:00Thanks Oprah<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1zcZvouVYWGRotDo9DpMLzJJeXzggA_Aak6PA_SGywERiwqUo7_70MtsJKfvuDplVxhAZxE8A28pgwqBJ_1Hy8kqT8clgi2iCbLst4U05S80IMXhI8bX8c_k-Tkcg6fPZcA9XOGWK8g/s1600-h/IMG_2054.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1zcZvouVYWGRotDo9DpMLzJJeXzggA_Aak6PA_SGywERiwqUo7_70MtsJKfvuDplVxhAZxE8A28pgwqBJ_1Hy8kqT8clgi2iCbLst4U05S80IMXhI8bX8c_k-Tkcg6fPZcA9XOGWK8g/s400/IMG_2054.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280744171088100226" /></a><br />I got my new issue of Oprah yesterday. A fat Oprah is on the cover looking at a thin Oprah from a couple of years back. The tag line says: <span style="font-weight:bold;">"How did I let this happen again?" </span><br /><br />Inside, in a candid article, Oprah tells why she has gained back the 40 pounds she fought so hard to lose.<br /><br />She says it is not really about eating too much, or about not exercising enough, but about not taking care of herself. She says that she is back where she started because she has placed a priority on her work and her projects and hasn't taken the time and effort necessary to make herself feel and look good.<br /><br />That is a great message and one that she sacrificed her pride to make.I have also been putting off the things I want to do until the things I need to do get done. But what I am figuring out is that the list of things that need to get done is way to long. <br /><br />Reading that article made me decide that in the new year I am going to try to do the things that make me feel great. I am going to have to make time for that and it is going to be tricky, but it has been too long since I:<br /><br />Read a book<br />Wrote a poem<br />Took a run<br />Wrote a letter<br />Cooked a nice dinner<br />Spent time with my best friend<br /><br />Thanks Oprah for my New Year's Resolution!Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-10940232867757546092008-12-10T06:45:00.007-05:002008-12-10T08:59:28.355-05:00Out of the Nest<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlF5EZHcmpWvXGyeBglxTwAax7b0lKoMOu9G9Tg0tzg4aN1Ry33mtf42c0bmzGDCVRPYOr7rvr7V774_GHv2WUZJNT717OJyQFbvh6jCw4ShmYB0BgPwRsv8N_-CeXcu3X-VzzVaa_cYU/s1600-h/IMG_2005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlF5EZHcmpWvXGyeBglxTwAax7b0lKoMOu9G9Tg0tzg4aN1Ry33mtf42c0bmzGDCVRPYOr7rvr7V774_GHv2WUZJNT717OJyQFbvh6jCw4ShmYB0BgPwRsv8N_-CeXcu3X-VzzVaa_cYU/s400/IMG_2005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278160202745432578" /></a><br />This is The Overachiever. Her name is Abby.<br /><br />In this picture she has just stomped up the stairs from the basement, where she has been living while getting her Master's Degree in Speech Pathology.<br /><br />Saturday she will put on her cap and gown and say goodbye to college and to living at home.<br /><br />This morning she kicked me off the internet, left toast crumbs in the bathroom, stole a pair of my socks and rang the doorbell after forgetting her phone.<br /><br />But I will miss her.<br /><br />Next week she will move into her own apartment, take off her waitress apron and start a real job.<br /><br />We won't miss her two cats (well maybe a little) or the mood she gets in after a bad day.<br /><br />But we will miss how she takes such good care of her little sisters and the energy she brings when she walks into a room. <br /><br />I am proud to send her out into the world and so happy she has found a career where she will be making a difference in the lives of so many.<br /><br />You Go Girl!Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-17829887370671750842008-12-08T07:53:00.008-05:002008-12-08T08:20:33.371-05:00Recipe for Magic<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWHaI2rGQDAVV-B9-nKNImFXTw5jJOP7MXdytRs15A0pfDM0LYRx3HFu-yeHK060Tq1w9WnFMIrihwv2I5GXGjWuGwY2HvVOMuraRz5sYPBSYKPEj8F61bb3HOVJKgrZjGAgqVGuOTp5g/s1600-h/IMG_1992.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWHaI2rGQDAVV-B9-nKNImFXTw5jJOP7MXdytRs15A0pfDM0LYRx3HFu-yeHK060Tq1w9WnFMIrihwv2I5GXGjWuGwY2HvVOMuraRz5sYPBSYKPEj8F61bb3HOVJKgrZjGAgqVGuOTp5g/s400/IMG_1992.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277407292342089298" /></a><br />This year we had the perfect <strong>Recipe for a Successful Christmas Tree:</strong><br /><br />1. Cut one eight foot tree<br /><br />2. Drive home with tree hanging out back of car after roof-binding failure<br /><br />3. Struggle to place in tree stand and center<br /><br />4. Remove tree from stand when you realize you have forgotten to atach plastic collection bag to base first<br /><br />5. Attach bag and place in stand again<br /><br />6. Fight with family over which section of tree should face the front<br /><br />7. Spray with some fake snow for a realistic effect<br /><br />8. Wait for fake snow to dry<br /><br />9. Unpack lights<br /><br />10. Send hubby to store to replace broken strand of colored lights.<br /><br />11. Force hubby to apply both white and colored lights to please all family members.<br /><br />12. Unpack ornaments<br /><br />13. Get emotional over ornaments with photos of children when they were small<br /><br />14. Force children to leave computer screens to hang a few ornaments<br /><br />15. Break a beloved ornament and cry<br /><br />16. Hang the rest by yourself<br /><br />17. Unpack old tree skirt and vow once again to buy a new one<br /><br />18. Dim the lights<br /><br />19. Stand back<br /><br />20. Admire the MagicLisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-46954937201974954652008-12-05T16:35:00.001-05:002008-12-05T16:40:32.194-05:00This cat has skills!<object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.todaysbigthing.com/betamax/betamax.swf?item_id=973&fullscreen=1" width="480" height="360"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain" /> <param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /> <param name="movie" quality="best" value="http://www.todaysbigthing.com/betamax/betamax.swf?item_id=973&fullscreen=1" /> </object><div style='padding:5px 0; text-align:center; width:480px;'>See more <a href='http://www.todaysbigthing.com/'>funny videos</a> and <a href='http://www.todaysbigthing.com/'>TBT Videos</a> at <a href='http://www.todaysbigthing.com/'>Today's Big Thing</a>.</div>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-9654419903055466162008-12-03T06:21:00.011-05:002008-12-03T07:23:21.246-05:00Write It Down<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaOhLq5RYaze2ZwXPyOmHButj_zIjAIXuIgKrKZ8YV7zL3Q9lBJzxAGRirhgvrYwB5keE2niVul7fstTf-xSFLguRWdRCaeXMmkBAofWAbO5GQNpe3Gwrcy690glF9ZACOWlCHcBHF5k/s1600-h/pen-paper.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaOhLq5RYaze2ZwXPyOmHButj_zIjAIXuIgKrKZ8YV7zL3Q9lBJzxAGRirhgvrYwB5keE2niVul7fstTf-xSFLguRWdRCaeXMmkBAofWAbO5GQNpe3Gwrcy690glF9ZACOWlCHcBHF5k/s400/pen-paper.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275538154024830706" /></a><br />The other night at a school function I stopped to chat with The Athlete's former third grade teacher. She said that although it has been five years since she had The Athlete in class, she thinks of us often because of a note I wrote thanking her for letting The Athlete bring in the gymnastics medals and trophies she had won to share with the class.<br /><br />I remember that I thought it was so great at the time that her teacher encouraged all of the children during a "news of the day" segment to get up in front of the class and share anything special that had happened to them. This gave The Athlete an opportunity to share her wins with the class.<br /><br />And so I went to the store and bought a thank you card and wrote her a note to tell her so.<br /><br />The teacher said she saved notes like the one I had written and pulled them out over the Christmas holiday every year to read again. She said notes like the one I wrote helped her remember why she chose teaching as a career.<br /><br />And it got me thinking about notes and letters.<br /><br />Sometimes I will get a letter in the mail from my dad. He is not a big talker. He hasn't visited in 15 years, and he stays pretty quiet at the rare family event.<br /><br />But his letters are filled with news of his everyday life on his hobby farm in South Dakota. He gives me news of hunters who have come to go pheasant hunting with him and what he is planting or harvesting at the time.<br /><br />Those letters are a treasure to me. I have kept them over the years with other special notes and letters in a wooden box my son made for me.<br /><br />Whenever I get one, I get a thrill thinking that someone I love took time out of their day to put pen to paper and send me a note.<br /><br />Unlike emails, these pieces of paper are a tangible reminder that things I have done have been appreciated and people I care for love me back.<br /><br />So I encourage you. If someone has done something special for you, or if you know someone who is going through a hard time and needs some encouragement.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Send a note.</span> It just might live forever.Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-86795743729071861932008-11-29T07:34:00.012-05:002008-11-29T11:34:47.152-05:00A Boring Little ChristmasI was at Target yesterday with The Athlete and the rest of the world. She was picking out hats to go with her new bright yellow dress coat. The Athlete is all about color. <br /><br />She found a really cute navy blue beret that it was clear no one else in the eighth grade would wear and she had to have it. Also there was the T-shirt she found with a giant bluebird on the front wearing a glittery scarf.<br /><br />So now she will know at least two of her presents that are going under the tree.<br /><br />The Brainiac was in New York last week looking at a college and managed to do some damage at the mall. But no regrets. She spread the stuff out all over her bed and told me to go shopping. Now she will know <span style="font-weight:bold;">ALL </span>of her presents under the tree.<br /><br />And I find myself missing the old Christmas. The one where my cart was filled with games and toys.<br /><br />The one where I wasn't working and the week after Christmas was spent lounging about in my pjs and working at a giant puzzle or reading a book while the kids hopped about the neighborhood comparing presents and building snow forts with their friends.<br /><br />There was always a kind of magic in that week and I would give anything to get it back for one more year.<br /><br />So if you have it, if you are home with the kids the week after Christmas, savor it. Let the house get messy. Keep the tree up until New Years. Build a snowman and then make some hot chocolate.<br /><br />And take lots of pictures to help you re-live the magic later on.Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-80936096685725170312008-11-27T08:00:00.006-05:002008-11-27T11:54:15.861-05:00Happy Thanksgiving!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJ9AhQP8UAeyAZTuMZCp8hJb4r_H7COm0pdUE-XfEb3UhlGTxnLmQwiHupskLlBwh-MP9QyrPaHZOGBzjPlTBVeSkgVu4ih3WetDlVm92jXs8ti56f8Iv2N77d934LpU7OnjUVDXrtYQ/s1600-h/IMG_1922.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJ9AhQP8UAeyAZTuMZCp8hJb4r_H7COm0pdUE-XfEb3UhlGTxnLmQwiHupskLlBwh-MP9QyrPaHZOGBzjPlTBVeSkgVu4ih3WetDlVm92jXs8ti56f8Iv2N77d934LpU7OnjUVDXrtYQ/s400/IMG_1922.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273381179176887490" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Athlete making place settings like she does every year.<br /></span><br /><br />All the kids are here and this afternoon three of the S.O.s (Significant Others) will arrive for our Thanksgiving feast, which will be cooked primarily by The Entrepreneur and his sous chef, Mr. Nice Guy. I will be on the fringes, making pies, setting the tables and doing the clean up.<br /><br />Later, I will post some pictures of our gathering. <br /><br />Hope you all have a wonderful day spent with people you love!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.jacquielawson.com/preview.asp?pv=cotm" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.jacquielawson.com/cotm_img.asp" alt="Jacquie Lawson e-cards" border=0></a>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-7630473506131619242008-11-24T22:03:00.018-05:002008-12-03T07:45:55.722-05:00Soul SongSomeone sent me a song the other day. Just popped off a link to a song that they saw performed on a talk show and wanted to share. Because this friend is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">thorough</span>, he also included an earlier version of the song from more than 30 years ago. And that is the song I have fallen in love with.<br /><br />I had never heard this song, but it is sung by one of my favorite artists. When I heard it, it was like a gift because it was something old but undiscovered, because of the perfect clarity and beauty of the artist's voice, and because the lyrics seemed like they were written just for me.<br /><br />Sometimes the Brainiac or The Athlete will get hooked on a new song, and they play it over and over again on the kitchen computer until I want to kill myself.<br /><br />That is what I am doing now with <span style="font-weight: bold;">American Tune</span> by Paul Simon. Pretty soon I will know all the words. I will find an old CD with it in the play list and listen to it over and over in my car, the way I do with my other favorites like Johnny Cash's <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunday Morning</span> and Vice Gill's <span style="font-weight: bold;">Key to Life</span>. I will think of the genius of the words and the beautiful soulful way they were sung and how listening to it brought tears to my eyes.<br /><br />I will realize the wonder of true talent and the benefit the rest of us get when someone who has it does what God intended and shares it with the world.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AE3kKUEY5WU&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AE3kKUEY5WU&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-70757140917051411632008-11-23T07:52:00.011-05:002008-11-23T08:11:45.089-05:00The Sleepover<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzj9Iwa7ofPKqoJD3Tpeu21qynj13FpKQ4Qer6YPA8cGcSIF9ErKpiFG-SEnpFNZU_2WLw2A7ReC5o3j6pJpkqiQpjDC7aP76tCJkqDxftCUVbykMghb9aqGD8Ea3-nTGTzS87yMAXg-o/s1600-h/IMG_1919.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzj9Iwa7ofPKqoJD3Tpeu21qynj13FpKQ4Qer6YPA8cGcSIF9ErKpiFG-SEnpFNZU_2WLw2A7ReC5o3j6pJpkqiQpjDC7aP76tCJkqDxftCUVbykMghb9aqGD8Ea3-nTGTzS87yMAXg-o/s400/IMG_1919.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271835539940485234" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Just a few snacks for the Crew</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The other night The athlete had a sleepover. With four friends. Yes. That was a crazy idea. But Maggie and Maddie were already invited, and then Shannon and Allie decided to go ice skating too and if they got left out <span style="font-weight: bold;">"their feelings would be hurt."<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span>I couldn't say " no" to that. The Athlete is always worried about other people's feelings and that is sweet.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span></span>However. Skating was cancelled due to bad weather, and then The Entrepreneur and I faced a long Saturday night trapped in our house with five 14-year-old girls who were now bored.<br /><br />He had a great idea: He decided to take them to the grocery store and buy them a cart full of junk food and then to the movie store for some Chick flicks.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span>They purchased two flavors of ice cream, waffle bowls and caramel sauce, chocolate sprinkles, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Funyuns</span>, Salt and Vinegar chips and a 12-pack of Sprite.<br /><br />Apparently, the recession does not apply to sleepovers.<br /><br />The next morning, I peeked in on them, sleeping sprawled all over The Athlete's bed and I missed the sleepovers of my youth. I bet that after we went to sleep they were prank calling (or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">texting</span>) boys, playing truth or dare and revealing important secrets.<br /><br />Next year is high school and everything will change. The rule at our house is no sleepovers past eighth grade, because of what we have already learned from three teenagers.<br /><br />So I hope until then The Athlete will enjoy many more sleepovers.<br /><br />I think the only thing better than <span style="font-weight: bold;">being</span> 14 is watching your child enjoy it while she mixes salt and vinegar chips with her ice cream.<br /></div></div>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-31930697794761751312008-11-20T22:28:00.018-05:002008-11-21T06:58:52.256-05:00Lucky Boy<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBNvr2aHk71kwXPXIGWQi8K-VaJmXI_3aoRVTEwzC1GbEaCatTmYn5G3uVi60aTpb9djM8yXkGMRgeamptow0JcyF7o1xvEwnozRZR7o9tqSFtCAc3buQ7Tvfi39amN45S2SSpd847yA/s1600-h/Beck.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBNvr2aHk71kwXPXIGWQi8K-VaJmXI_3aoRVTEwzC1GbEaCatTmYn5G3uVi60aTpb9djM8yXkGMRgeamptow0JcyF7o1xvEwnozRZR7o9tqSFtCAc3buQ7Tvfi39amN45S2SSpd847yA/s400/Beck.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270959679602342354" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-weight: bold;"> The Prince</span><br /><br /><br /></div>My sister Jen (Eight of Nine) is a new mom. She had her first baby a decade and a half after I had my first, and she is so much smarter. I am having such a good time watching her bring that baby up.<br /><br />Really I am.<br /><br />It's not like I am re-living the days with my son, who is all grown up and doesn't call me back a lot of the time in spite of my cheery but desperate messages.<br /><br />Why not at all.<br /><br />But I have to tell you I am amazed. Because Jen is an achiever. A person who gets things done. Really kind of a perfectionist. And she is just so easygoing with this nephew of mine. She is just helping him be who he is.<br /><br />And that makes me so proud.<br /><br />She is O.K. with how he wrinkles his forehead if you are a new person or if he is trying to figure something out. If he doesn't want to stand up. Who cares. He is an EXCELLENT crawler! She is the head cheerleader of Team Little Prince!<br /><br />Here is what is different about that son of hers and the one I had a bit too young.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">She knows he is a miracle.</span><br /><br />She knows that he is perfect.<br /><br />I think I was too busy juggling the demands of four children to appreciate my miracle.<br /><br />But now I do. Only he is 20 years old and he thinks it is a bit cheesy that I hang on his every word. That I agonize over what to put under the Christmas tree for him. That I wish I understood him better when he was a toddler chasing toads and ignoring his friends.<br /><br />What's done is done.<br /><br />But I remember a few years ago, at Thanksgiving dinner, we all had to say what we really knew for sure, and he said: " I always knew my momma loved me."<br /><br />So I guess I did O.K.<br /><br />But if I could go back, older and wiser, and tell the boy that if you are different, you are still perfect in every way, that would be <span style="font-weight: bold;">bliss.</span><br /><br />So, GO JEN! One chance. You are doing a great job. He is perfect because he <span style="font-weight: bold;">YOURS.</span><br /><br />From now until he is all grown up, I'll be cheering you on.Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-34124101948533568142008-11-18T19:51:00.012-05:002008-11-19T11:57:56.213-05:00Kids Say the Darndest Things<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBg9ga1Ckk2Ykxi_3Lmk0yLUwzieyYdhvfWJlXbRrPEpunDzOk4lrDoPWG2oIwIo3nUIKqQpsErdxf9uS27LQLEhFTbdQdUNsXlgN9sIOFYAqJ4BGF4pwClxRcFu8NEZ0bGpyJeUJdMfw/s1600-h/bluebird.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBg9ga1Ckk2Ykxi_3Lmk0yLUwzieyYdhvfWJlXbRrPEpunDzOk4lrDoPWG2oIwIo3nUIKqQpsErdxf9uS27LQLEhFTbdQdUNsXlgN9sIOFYAqJ4BGF4pwClxRcFu8NEZ0bGpyJeUJdMfw/s400/bluebird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270172384138802290" border="0" /></a><br />There are so many blog services out there for which you pay big money. There are little banners and buttons that you can have made that say the name of your blog with a cute little graphic that represents what it is about.<br /><br />You can have little widgets made for features that you bring back again and again to your site.<br /><br />I <span style="font-weight: bold;">aspire </span>to have a blog like that. But a blog that puts me in the red sounds like a bad idea.<br /><br />SOOOOOOO.....<br /><br />A new feature that I want to have on here every now and then is one that tells you all of the very funny and poignant things the preschoolers at the center where I work say. It's going to be called <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Kid<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">z</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Talk</span></span>. Someday I will have a cool banner or button for this feature. But for now, I am going to borrow the free colored type feature offered by blogspot.<br /><br />Here we go with the first <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kidz<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Talk:</span></span></span><br /><br />Victoria, age three, said that yesterday in preschool they had to go around the room and say what they wanted to be when they grew up.<br /><br />"What did you say?" I asked.<br /><br />"<span style="font-weight: bold;">Oh. I want to be a bluebird,"</span> She said.<br /><br />Excellent goal.Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-11564685742320435162008-11-18T07:41:00.009-05:002008-11-18T08:17:51.149-05:00What's Old is New Again<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2UFRJTbLz6kPX3R-ULc5FeYGYlmQhdEUobdhj_kBHzRCyG4pDMss19fE1VAY1MO6l5QClQU0u0QFjpKkrgqM0phwWkD-J9xGnyQf4KEX9D4RVikwqiuNv3-yMczPsobLlYjd0oUYGDFY/s1600-h/IMG_1913.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2UFRJTbLz6kPX3R-ULc5FeYGYlmQhdEUobdhj_kBHzRCyG4pDMss19fE1VAY1MO6l5QClQU0u0QFjpKkrgqM0phwWkD-J9xGnyQf4KEX9D4RVikwqiuNv3-yMczPsobLlYjd0oUYGDFY/s400/IMG_1913.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269977221571538562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Best Recycling Moment</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">It's all about recycling now. And not buying things made in China. And buying local. I get that.<br /><br />But beyond that, there is something so appealing to me, especially this time of year, in finding things that were made by hand long ago and have ended up in junk shops and garage sales, just a moment away from the landfill.<br /><br />I love it when I find something like this and bring it home.<br /><br />I feel like the person who made it and has probably passed on is up there giving me some extra points because I noticed the beauty in the thing they created.<br /><br />My pine cone wreath is an example.<br /><br />I found it this summer when The Entrepreneur and I were hopping garage sales in search of a cabinet to house Mr. Nice Guy's T.V. for his new apartment. We were batting zero and The Entrepreneur was doing what he usually does, which is making <span style="font-weight: bold;">friends </span>with the garage sale C.E.O. and they were talking about how the man was selling the house because his wife had died and he was tired of living in the big place alone.<br /><br />Looking through the tools for an addition to my trowel collection, I glanced up and spotted a beautiful pine cone wreath with a $4 price sticker.<br /><br />"The Missus made that one year with pine cones she found at our cabin," the man said.<br /><br />"It's really beautiful," I said. "I'm going to take it home."<br /><br />And so it hangs from the living room mirror this year. I added a few pine cones where some had fallen off and dressed it up with a satin bow.<br /><br />When I look at it I think of a woman walking in the woods collecting pine cones. I think of her husband, alone at the end of his life and moving on to a new place with the hope of a new beginning.<br /><br />And I'm very proud I recycled.<br /><br /><br /></div></div>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-65683400620405323152008-11-17T07:57:00.009-05:002008-11-17T15:43:33.307-05:00Something FunI found this fun site where you can plug in a picture of yourself and it will tell you what celebrities you resemble. I was worried about my results, so I plugged in a picture of The Athlete.<br />I was very concerned to see Britney Spears in her results. I hope she doesn't ACT like her too!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.myheritage.com/collage" title="MyHeritage - free family trees, genealogy and face recognition" alt="MyHeritage - free family trees, genealogy and face recognition" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.myheritagefiles.com/M/storage/site1/files/20/25/02/202502_703070a9961294otqnop86.JPG" width="500" height="574" border="0" ></a>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-12100297598698928462008-11-16T07:34:00.006-05:002008-11-16T07:50:09.237-05:00I'm Feeling all Holiday<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2NWkBNNHoXNiUKWWYMSgp9mAl1RabXHBuE8QwfsHFhhNQqYjWF0e-wXqC_QlWH6LOtKSqemLdCH83sdoj27qbE4l6GtotnMx7rJeTSzRJE2G_rfmZQgpTO5vCEX6xm_bhFU7UuK8kR0/s1600-h/sugarplums.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2NWkBNNHoXNiUKWWYMSgp9mAl1RabXHBuE8QwfsHFhhNQqYjWF0e-wXqC_QlWH6LOtKSqemLdCH83sdoj27qbE4l6GtotnMx7rJeTSzRJE2G_rfmZQgpTO5vCEX6xm_bhFU7UuK8kR0/s400/sugarplums.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269236612634725858" border="0" /> Visions of Sugarplums</a><br /></div><br /><br />I'm not sure why, with my big pumpkin still sitting on the front porch from Halloween, but I'm getting all excited for the holidays.<br /><br />Yesterday I stayed in bed all day with some horrible virus that I attribute to not getting my flu shot this year.<br /><br />And even though my <span style="font-weight: bold;">body </span>was just laying there in misery, my <span style="font-weight: bold;">mind </span>was busy making plans for another <span style="font-weight: bold;">Big Wonderful Christmas.</span><br /><br />So today I'm going to bring my tissue with me down to the crawlspace and drag out the Christmas boxes and begin my decorating plans.<br /><br />This year there will a party before Christmas to celebrate the Overachiever's graduation from college, and there will even be people to share the decorating with.<br /><br />I know I have to shorten up my shopping list, but it will be hard to get me to cut back on my decorating.<br /><br />Here on my blog I hope to share some great family recipes (please send me yours!) and traditions and give you some great economical gift ideas as well.<br /><br />Out my window I see a few snowflakes coming down. Bring on the holidays!Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-55075588077528705192008-11-13T19:00:00.003-05:002008-11-13T19:03:13.716-05:00Upcoming Pulitzer Prize Winner<object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://funnyvideos.todaysbigthing.com/betamax/betamax.swf?item_id=893&fullscreen=1" width="480" height="360"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="movie" quality="best" value="http://funnyvideos.todaysbigthing.com/betamax/betamax.swf?item_id=893&fullscreen=1"></object>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-91943648611394770522008-11-12T07:00:00.009-05:002008-11-12T07:36:06.025-05:00I'd Prefer Preschool<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj427cnV7529va8o3HBImcvHjZ_IflJWCLFuO6aQZP6iJMwCZvmlImx70ozJae8-mNxx2EQKbWT_JDcKcDPB3hKTdlCnliOQefC3jaM1yJfoeCV5r4mkDa-6G3hWiRiyghkyugI2MBSxqU/s1600-h/Cream+Beetle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj427cnV7529va8o3HBImcvHjZ_IflJWCLFuO6aQZP6iJMwCZvmlImx70ozJae8-mNxx2EQKbWT_JDcKcDPB3hKTdlCnliOQefC3jaM1yJfoeCV5r4mkDa-6G3hWiRiyghkyugI2MBSxqU/s400/Cream+Beetle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267748356200425090" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-weight: bold;">My Dream Car. Mine. You Can't Have it!</span><br /><br /><br /></div>I've been thinking lately that it would be really cool to be a preschooler. Here's why:<br /><br />All of the preschoolers at the place where I work get to say exactly what is on their minds and no one gets mad at them for it.<br /><br />Like the other day. Jacob shows up. Cute kid. Kind of a germaphobe. Uses WAY to much Purell. Anyway, I say: "Hi Jake. How are you today? Are you excited to be at school? And he says:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">No. Not really. I'm tired and I really think I should go home and take a nap."</span><br /><br />You know what? That made a lot of sense to me. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I </span></span>was tired too. And the heat in that place was broken, so I was also cold. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I </span></span>wanted to go home and crawl in my big bed under my covers and take a nap too.<br /><br />But when my boss asked me how I was doing, I didn't say that. I lied. I said "Great! How are you?" Because that is the grown-up thing to say.<br /><br />Later, Jillian grabbed the hot pink marker from Kate.<br /><br />I said: "Jillian. Kate is using the pink marker. It is not polite to take things from other people."<br /><br />And Jillian said: "<span style="font-weight: bold;">Why not. Pink is <span style="font-style: italic;">my </span></span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">favorite color so I <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">to color my house with it!<br /><br /></span>I thought about<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>how earlier in the week I talked to a friend who owned the car I have wanted ever since I drove around a different version in high school<span style="font-weight: bold;">. </span>That car was beautiful, but when I told my friend how much I loved it, she said: "I hate this car. It's too small and I wish I never would have bought it."<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />"Well then you don't deserve that car, give it to me!" </span><span>Is what I wanted to say. That's what Jillian would have said.<br /><br />But I just said: " That's too bad."<br /><br />But this is my blog. And I am going to channel my preschooler and say that today I am irritated by the number of leaves on my lawn, the fact that my carpet steamer is broken and I can't get my hair to do what it is supposed to do. I don't want to keep cleaning out my crawlspace and I really hate the printer for messing up my order and charging me too much because now I have to drive over there to get my $13 back and that will probably cost me $2 in gas.<br /><br />Wow. That was really cool.<br /></span></span>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-14958684383656159172008-11-09T17:26:00.010-05:002008-11-09T18:18:52.619-05:00Computer Maven<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTxwLkGXhmWOFBhHEasKBgDoaAxbwmw5Y-qZGX8Ufnz6Bws5v6XiNaUUL3fxpPXUwkqj8A_1GvuVofkI4daitrNtI2-iEp1YDvoTyX77UMmtBoHhj8QxBzl92OBHZoi8hRMjumexltTI/s1600-h/computer+image.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 374px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTxwLkGXhmWOFBhHEasKBgDoaAxbwmw5Y-qZGX8Ufnz6Bws5v6XiNaUUL3fxpPXUwkqj8A_1GvuVofkI4daitrNtI2-iEp1YDvoTyX77UMmtBoHhj8QxBzl92OBHZoi8hRMjumexltTI/s400/computer+image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266801184733245826" border="0" /></a><br />The Entrepreneur likes to make fun of my slowly developing computer skills. He calls me a <span style="font-weight: bold;">Computer Maven</span>. He tends to be a bit sarcastic.<br /><br />I'm really trying on this computer thing. I realize that I need to step up my computer knowledge in order to fit in with today's world. But I'm going to tell you something. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I don't like computers. And I never will.</span><br /><br />I don't like the fact that when I can't get the computer to do something it is supposed to be doing, like when my blog won't post even though I keep pushing the POST button, there is nothing I can do. I just have to keep pushing the button again and again and screaming <span style="font-weight: bold;">"POST!"</span> until at last the computer decides to upload my post. It is so aggravating!<br /><br />Today I was working on my website for my <span style="font-weight: bold;">Green Thumb Design</span> business. Some guys in India made it for me because they screwed up The Entrepreneur's web site and they owed us some money. It has it's limitations.<br /><br />I was supposed to be able to log in as the administrator and press the different catagory buttons and make changes. Then I was to press SAVE and then go back to the main page and press REFRESH. Only that wasn't working and so I just started banging on the keys a little bit and shouting <span style="font-weight: bold;">"REFRESH!"</span><br /><br />That didn't help.<br /><br />If this were the old days, I wouldn't need the dumb website. People would have to call me on the TELEPHONE.<br /><br />Then I could let them know if I was frustrated and they would maybe <span style="font-weight: bold;">do something about it.<br /><br /></span>But who needs <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">communication? </span></span></span>After all, we have this beautiful new thing called <span style="font-weight: bold;">Technology</span>.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><br /></span>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-88861355473051746512008-11-07T08:48:00.003-05:002008-11-07T09:01:13.646-05:00Duty CallsToday I am putting on My Garden Designer hat and assembling several plant baskets that have been ordered and delivering them all over what my dad used to call: "Hell's Half Acre."<br /><br />But it's all good. I LOVE to create plant baskets.<br /><br />And, in case you are a <span style="font-weight: bold;">local reader</span>, remember that The Green Thumb now has a plant hospital where we will care for the plant you tried to kill :) and bring it back to life!<br /><br />Maybe while I'm driving around town I will dream up some new ideas to blog about next week.<br /><br />So check back on Monday and enjoy your weekend!Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-45049493017508455152008-11-06T08:54:00.011-05:002008-11-12T15:32:09.490-05:00Hair Today Gone Tomorrow Part Two<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg06r9Vy2XyORtQyzE-d8O0K0vjoEBkMT3WwSH9bSOIFZjlrCPGt3MhBxGKFbfXNxxfR8GvrEJIoZpmgpH9MEjtnzQCWLfD-oA0iKybMF7Khd1jFKbjul1R_i8bVr2smfCruh7t-HDxNc/s1600-h/IMG_1809.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg06r9Vy2XyORtQyzE-d8O0K0vjoEBkMT3WwSH9bSOIFZjlrCPGt3MhBxGKFbfXNxxfR8GvrEJIoZpmgpH9MEjtnzQCWLfD-oA0iKybMF7Khd1jFKbjul1R_i8bVr2smfCruh7t-HDxNc/s400/IMG_1809.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265545836260631234" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftrtplQzuhRPxckO40-Uh1yDu7JKHefUgrcBZ1Ue1jeLDlT44qHRLpFJpOrHqfmaJIDmuvO3NDM753We7NqlhpFxop70PBv-R44rGGBD_S1CYIBqR5UmRo_zRetXpWxPqIeq2rJd5KvI/s1600-h/IMG_1813.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftrtplQzuhRPxckO40-Uh1yDu7JKHefUgrcBZ1Ue1jeLDlT44qHRLpFJpOrHqfmaJIDmuvO3NDM753We7NqlhpFxop70PBv-R44rGGBD_S1CYIBqR5UmRo_zRetXpWxPqIeq2rJd5KvI/s400/IMG_1813.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265545661029679250" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-iqXXQYPKSE6BTLFq-W6_qsj9qxvEYOd5Kvau6GrEzqcLMCE5KYA4NObnK1YqncIwLGjacjumgVAHQrqByPIFTZjPOYnp1Pc31_W9jxjctqrb8T3t4oPbozSl9GE_Cg2YPf8vgeiGqQ0/s1600-h/IMG_1879.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-iqXXQYPKSE6BTLFq-W6_qsj9qxvEYOd5Kvau6GrEzqcLMCE5KYA4NObnK1YqncIwLGjacjumgVAHQrqByPIFTZjPOYnp1Pc31_W9jxjctqrb8T3t4oPbozSl9GE_Cg2YPf8vgeiGqQ0/s400/IMG_1879.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265542820944634994" border="0" /></a>My New Do<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Yesterday I told the terrible story of burning my hair with a straightening iron and left you all hanging as to the final result.<br /><br />After spending a couple of days at the salon with my hair caked with several different kinds of conditioner, it was determined that nothing could be done to improve the quality of the singed hair.<br /><br />I sat in the chair while my stylist Annie tried to pull a comb through the burned and matted mess.<br /><br />"Cut it," I said.<br /><br />She got a bad look on her face.<br /><br />"But your hair has never been short as long as I have known you," she said.<br /><br />"Cut it," I said again, and all of the ladies in the salon held their breath.<br /><br />It turned out O.K.<br /><br />I miss my long hair a little bit, but it's nice to only need 10 minutes instead of 40 to style it every day. My friend Angela says it's sassy and The Entrepreneur says he wants me to keep it this way.<br /><br />Chalk one up to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Serendipity</span>.<br /><br /></div></div>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-20275944476707855942008-11-05T08:12:00.006-05:002008-11-05T08:31:25.915-05:00Hair Today Gone Tomorrow<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaHGilIfBdoIjNvaNGvxa0VrzkgBeV212HWvt-6xgF5UsgvTejvI-gXY-iciptsOnW8NpFPh5Yc9RcrlGiz8UcH2es3RsV5uvIgcqEBpmwhkFhBv38bOky4wLN3c72-66gLdQh0Oc2iU/s1600-h/IMG_1804.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaHGilIfBdoIjNvaNGvxa0VrzkgBeV212HWvt-6xgF5UsgvTejvI-gXY-iciptsOnW8NpFPh5Yc9RcrlGiz8UcH2es3RsV5uvIgcqEBpmwhkFhBv38bOky4wLN3c72-66gLdQh0Oc2iU/s400/IMG_1804.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265160873565599442" border="0" /></a>Looking Scary with my Fried Hair<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Yes. That is a very scary picture. But this is a very scary story.<br /><br />A couple of weeks ago I flew to Minnesota to see siblings four and eight and to spend some time with my adorable Godson.<br /><br />I had left my straightening iron, which I often use to tame my curly hair, at home. I did this because my girls have all inherited the <span style="font-weight: bold;">bad hair gene</span> from me and the straightening iron is an important part of their everyday lives. I thought it would be mean to take it with me. I thought that one of the siblings, who both also have the bad hair gene, would be happy to share theirs with me.<br /><br />And that act of kindness cost me dearly.<br /><br />One day during my visit, Sibling Eight and her husband and son went to a baby shower.<br /><br />While they were away, I decided it would be a perfect time to complete the hour-long task of straightening my hair.<br /><br />I searched around until I found the straightening iron and plugged it in. I came back to the bathroom a few minutes later and grabbed a big chunk of hair from the top of my head and started pulling the iron through the curls.<br /><br />Suddenly, I noticed a bad smell. Looking down at the iron, I saw several pieces of singed hair clinging to the hinge. Thinking they were just pieces that were left behind from the last time the iron was used, I grabbed another section of my hair, snapped the iron in place and began to pull.<br /><br />And then I smelled the bad smell again. Leaning forward over the counter, I took a good look at the top of my head.<br /><br />And then I let out a terrible yell.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Tune in tomorrow to find out if Five of Nine found a way to rescue her burned mane . . . . . </span></span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-35078310661486502022008-11-04T06:51:00.009-05:002008-11-04T08:10:29.659-05:00Vote!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oukfWyOu3Ss5PevfEkMKrhwE-MNukMPjJUZ3shCW0XRtiZTFnGlz_KMlfEGqaT6HYheyVKZeJVqOnRdFWK-e61FVZ8essYbGh-2OrnPCSL3sW6o-R9Kyk-Df_-rg0EkDeMBaE7Kioqo/s1600-h/VoteMoxygen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 375px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oukfWyOu3Ss5PevfEkMKrhwE-MNukMPjJUZ3shCW0XRtiZTFnGlz_KMlfEGqaT6HYheyVKZeJVqOnRdFWK-e61FVZ8essYbGh-2OrnPCSL3sW6o-R9Kyk-Df_-rg0EkDeMBaE7Kioqo/s400/VoteMoxygen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264788980480868146" border="0" /></a><br />I am so excited to vote today because that means the Republican Party will quit calling my house every five minutes to remind me and I won't have to hear Sarah Palin's annoying voice telling me that "as a mom" she understands everything I am facing. Please.<br /><br />Now that I am done with that rant, I should tell all the coffee drinkers that they can get a free cup of Joe today from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2J8KJDsqqY">Starbucks</a> as a thank you for casting your vote.<br /><br />Now a little something for the trivia buffs who might not know the origins of the Elephant and Donkey symbolism:<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The now-famous Democratic donkey was first associated with Democrat</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Andrew Jackson's 1828 presidential campaign. His opponents called him</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">a jackass (a donkey), and Jackson decided to use the image of the</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">strong-willed animal on his campaign posters. Later, cartoonist Thomas</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Nast used the Democratic donkey in newspaper cartoons and made the</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">symbol famous.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Nast invented another famous symbol--the Republican elephant. In a</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">cartoon that appeared in Harper's Weekly in 1874, Nast drew a donkey</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">clothed in lion's skin, scaring away all the animals at the zoo. One</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">of those animals, the elephant, was labeled "The Republican Vote."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">That's all it took for the elephant to become associated with the</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Republican Party.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Democrats today say the donkey is smart and brave, while Republicans</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">say the elephant is strong and dignified.</span>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408971902272563935.post-20709360907016462632008-11-03T07:33:00.022-05:002008-11-03T07:50:25.142-05:00Inspired<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSB4rDw4TQJBLD4-M8kuslhJuHIGXRrUSsYZS0O13sZjKLRdip7m1YejeJdE0J74hVkVZst-JeJusvZRm39se6mkyYU5XwyLvtb5ib25BV0fTykkJIkxu_h_Mh1lWnu1wePyrQqUIqKA4/s1600-h/Haley+Collage+Andrews+Nov+2+2008+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSB4rDw4TQJBLD4-M8kuslhJuHIGXRrUSsYZS0O13sZjKLRdip7m1YejeJdE0J74hVkVZst-JeJusvZRm39se6mkyYU5XwyLvtb5ib25BV0fTykkJIkxu_h_Mh1lWnu1wePyrQqUIqKA4/s400/Haley+Collage+Andrews+Nov+2+2008+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264408554326196274" border="0" /></a> The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Brainiac</span> gets Equestrian<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Yesterday we took a little drive to watch The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Brainiac</span> compete in a horse show. We have done this many times before. But this time I was the most proud I have ever been because The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Brainiac</span> has some new obstacles that make being in a barn an absolute misery, but she keeps on competing anyway, because it is something she has a passion for.<br /><br />You see, we recently found out that The Horse-crazy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Brainiac</span> is allergic to grass. And because hay is basically just dried-up grass, a barn is just about the worst place on earth for her to be.<br /><br />Her eyes get red. Her nose turns into a faucet. And then she starts to sneeze like crazy.<br /><br />It wasn't always like this. Back when she started riding at age nine, she didn't show any symptoms. But over the years things have gotten gradually worse.<br /><br />But she is not giving up. She shows up for her weekly lesson and comes home clutching her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">kleenex</span>.<br /><br />Yesterday I held my breath while she rode around the arena, paying attention to the perfect transitions from walk to trot to canter, knowing that while she was focusing on signaling the horse she was also doing everything in her power not to sneeze.<br /><br />Finally came the time for the riders to ride to the center of the ring for the ribbon ceremony. I heard them call The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Brainiac's</span> name.<br /><br />And then I heard the sneeze.<br /></div></div>Lisa Madelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498991602976691362noreply@blogger.com0