tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-200506472024-03-13T07:00:28.008-05:00Blevins' JournalAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.comBlogger592125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-83708931146236477032014-08-20T10:41:00.000-05:002014-08-20T10:41:41.742-05:00BombedMy son bug-bombed his apartment this week and <strike>decided</strike> was advised to launder all his clothes and linens after the bombing. Which means now MY house has exploded.<br />
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First of all...I had no idea what a clothes horse he is. How can anyone own so many clothes? I think his plan is to have enough clothes that he only needs to do laundry at the beginning of each season. We have piles in the guest room, piles in the office, piles in the laundry room a load in the washer and one in the dryer.<br />
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Secondly...this is how different my son and I are:<br />
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Since he's at work today, and I'm at home, I thought I'd lend a hand.<br />
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Here is his completed work...<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b8GmX_lxzhU/U_S_ZMTSuDI/AAAAAAAAEvA/a-ehj_IWTsg/s1600/IMG_4791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b8GmX_lxzhU/U_S_ZMTSuDI/AAAAAAAAEvA/a-ehj_IWTsg/s1600/IMG_4791.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here is mine...</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z21dvJAXij4/U_S_nskkVwI/AAAAAAAAEvQ/f5YJkE4brjQ/s1600/IMG_4795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z21dvJAXij4/U_S_nskkVwI/AAAAAAAAEvQ/f5YJkE4brjQ/s1600/IMG_4795.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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And if he sees this, he will claim, "It's the artist in me."</div>
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And I will admit, I'm a little OCD.</div>
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Confession--I didn't even know he came to my house and slept here last night. A little scary.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-56962470808608294252014-07-23T21:27:00.000-05:002014-07-23T21:27:31.776-05:00Inquiring Minds blah, blah, blahHere's the scoop.<br />
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Neal and I got hitched in Oklahoma City on December 30, 1976. True. Story.<br />
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To wit:<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EDHlJn6HemQ/U9Bk6jgbWLI/AAAAAAAAEt8/BNaglIn1qnk/s1600/hp_scanDS_147232034286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EDHlJn6HemQ/U9Bk6jgbWLI/AAAAAAAAEt8/BNaglIn1qnk/s1600/hp_scanDS_147232034286.jpg" height="287" width="400" /></a></div>
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The two in white are us. Really.</div>
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I know, right? Neal has hair, and I have chubby cheeks. But that's us!</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YJay1jWkjQY/U9Bk7A_BHaI/AAAAAAAAEuU/PG8RFKQSqDY/s1600/hp_scanDS_147232039309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YJay1jWkjQY/U9Bk7A_BHaI/AAAAAAAAEuU/PG8RFKQSqDY/s1600/hp_scanDS_147232039309.jpg" height="400" width="282" /></a></div>
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The rings don't look familiar, because mine was stolen from All American Fitness in downtown Tulsa just ten short years after the wedding. Neal's was stolen when someone broke into our house in 2002. I'm not even kidding.</div>
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This was when my veil caught on fire. Seriously.</div>
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Congratulations all around.</div>
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Or....</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OjHC5URmb_Y/U9Bk8EUbfyI/AAAAAAAAEuo/3rDTbX4dF6A/s1600/hp_scanDS_14723204210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OjHC5URmb_Y/U9Bk8EUbfyI/AAAAAAAAEuo/3rDTbX4dF6A/s1600/hp_scanDS_14723204210.jpg" height="400" width="282" /></a></div>
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...these two may have been plotting the disappearance of the Marriage Certificate. Father knows best.</div>
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Fast forward to the year 2000. Neal's parents decided to give all the kids copies of their legal documents...birth certificates, marriage certificate, etc. That got me thinking. I didn't remember ever SEEING our marriage certificate. So the search began. Since we had just recently moved from Tulsa to Baton Rouge, you would think I would've ran across it while packing. I literally, okay not literally, but I tore the house apart looking for it. The only thing left to do was call the Oklahoma County Court Clerk and get another copy, right? Not so fast. Oklahoma County had no record of the marriage. Say what?</div>
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Must be Tulsa County. After all, Neal was living in Tulsa when we got married and that's where we might have gotten our blood tests. Nope. Tulsa County didn't have it either.</div>
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As I recall, Neal was on a business trip when all this went down, so when he got home, I gently told him I had some bad news. "There is no record of our marriage." And he replied that he also had some bad news. "You need to pack your bags." Hardy har har. That was so funny I forgot to laugh. </div>
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Being the resourceful person I am, I wasted no time calling my attorney to see if this might be a problem somewhere down the road. He suggested I get a signed and notarized affidavit from the minister that performed the ceremony. Just to be on the safe side. Which I wasted no time doing.</div>
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Now, 14 years later, for some reason I start panicking about it again. (I look for things to worry about.) So I wrote a letter to the Oklahoma County Court Clerk asking for a search for this document. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0RJzpQq0lw/U9BoMNEv7mI/AAAAAAAAEuw/VuxrxGTQ0nE/s1600/hp_scanDS_1472320553815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0RJzpQq0lw/U9BoMNEv7mI/AAAAAAAAEuw/VuxrxGTQ0nE/s1600/hp_scanDS_1472320553815.jpg" height="269" width="320" /></a></div>
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Which I received in the mail Saturday.</div>
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The end.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-18779780237010466112014-05-08T12:32:00.003-05:002014-05-08T12:32:46.417-05:00Score!Last night was exceptional. Delicious Spaghetti Dinner with great dinner companions. Kids Praise Chorus concert was over-the-top with talent and adorableness. Dessert Auction brought in much needed funds for our Junior Campers' registration fees.<br />
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And I scored an Italian Cream Cake baked by Angela Taylor. Yummmmm!<br />
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For a measly 50 bucks, I also scored pumpkin cookies on this beautiful serving tray...<br />
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FRONT</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eNIUFqSIaiI/U2u9S0ZNZzI/AAAAAAAAEtU/AP1mjGpKP-Y/s1600/tray3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eNIUFqSIaiI/U2u9S0ZNZzI/AAAAAAAAEtU/AP1mjGpKP-Y/s1600/tray3.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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...that will one day be worth millions.</div>
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BACK</div>
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Money well spent.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-30740797769985521682014-04-14T20:14:00.000-05:002014-04-14T20:14:17.022-05:00A day in the life...10:45 a.m.<br />
-pulled the pin out of the weights on the cable crossover, releasing a lat bar similar to this:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-12gNAKOtok4/U0yBF1tQmcI/AAAAAAAAEsQ/Oq5eUE-55Ps/s1600/pro_grip_lat_bar_pro__37715_zoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-12gNAKOtok4/U0yBF1tQmcI/AAAAAAAAEsQ/Oq5eUE-55Ps/s1600/pro_grip_lat_bar_pro__37715_zoom.jpg" height="261" width="320" /></a></div>
which came crashing down on the back of my head. There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth. Should have listened to Lisa. It is absolutely not safe to exercise.<br />
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12:05 p.m.<br />
-arrived at the insurance office to go over some forms -- sign on door said "Out to Lunch until 1:00"<br />
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12:25 p.m.<br />
-arrived at Jeremy's office to pick up his check for him -- doors locked -- not a creature was stirring<br />
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1:30 p.m.<br />
- returned home after grocery shopping -- forgot to pick up anniversary card for the in-laws 60th. Doh!<br />
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4:25 p.m.<br />
- pulled a flimsy foil pan of homemade cinnamon rolls out of the oven, only to have flimsy foil pan buckle under the weight and dump half the rolls on the kitchen floor<br />
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4:40 p.m.<br />
- started icing for cinnamon rolls and discovered that a mouse had beaten me to the powdered sugar<br />
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4:47 p.m.<br />
- drove to the rural convenience store to pay an astronomical sum for a bag of powdered sugar<br />
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5:15 p.m.<br />
- almost new Oneida wisk sprung a wire<br />
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6:30 p.m.</div>
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- ate other half pan of cinnamon rolls</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-82275661527962447042014-03-14T09:43:00.004-05:002014-03-14T09:43:58.305-05:00Bird WatchingThere may be nothing sweeter in life than a lazy, sunny Friday morning when it's my day off and I have no appointments scheduled.<br />
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So I've been watching my bluebirds who must be convinced that, indeed, winter is finally over.<br />
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You may recall that every Spring, they have built their nest in the rusted pipe next to our cellar. Which is like an oven in the summer, and their eggs literally cook. So last summer, the kids and I rebuilt a birdhouse just for them. And Neal covered the pipe with wire mesh.<br />
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Practicality trumps beauty at our house.</div>
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So here's my beautiful bluebird. Looking all sweet and innocent.</div>
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When in fact, I think he's stealing from someone else's nest and "re-purposing" the booty.</div>
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I've seen at least three different birds trying to use this birdhouse.</div>
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Oh...I don't think that's gonna fit, big guy.</div>
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Jacob & Lauren have their assignment. At least 2 more birdhouses on their to-do lists.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-65466594899998961852014-02-24T16:28:00.000-06:002014-02-24T16:28:03.470-06:00Disney World is not for Sissies - Part 2I have to confess, in the middle of all the fun and games, smiles and laughter, there were also times of tears.<div>
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I "teared up" the first night at Fantasmic. Okay...I cried. I don't know why. Maybe being taken back through so many Disney memories. Maybe the incredible display of imagination. Maybe I was exhausted. Anyway...two days later, Jeremy admitted that it made him "tear up" too. Just sayin'.</div>
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I teared up on the "It's a Small World" ride. Mostly at the end when we were all singing along.</div>
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I teared up when the Fairy-Godmother-in-Training couldn't style Lauren's hair because she had an eczema patch on her scalp. Something about products and policy and doctor's notes. I understood. But she didn't. Oh that sweet, disappointed face! Have mercy!</div>
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I teared up when Jacob spilled coke in his lap and he was embarrassed that people might think it was another kind of accident.</div>
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I teared up when I saw this note that Lauren left in the room.</div>
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I teared up when each of my grandchildren, at separate times, said "Thank you, Nana, for bringing us to Disney World."</div>
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I teared up during the fireworks finale when the explosion was shaped like a star and everyone was singing, "When You Wish Upon A Star."</div>
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And tears were shed on the last trek to the shuttle after the final night parade and fireworks. When every muscle, joint, and vertebrae ached from the miles walked, hours sat on hard, cold concrete to save the best place, and from jerks and sudden drops of ridicululously fun and scary rides. </div>
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Oh, mark my words. Disney World is not for Sissies. Or maybe it is.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-72611270843438093532014-02-22T13:13:00.000-06:002014-02-22T13:13:01.361-06:00Disney World is not for SissiesDisney World is a team sport.<br />
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For the full Disney experience, it's imperative that you arrive when the parks open...or before...since Magic Kingdom has an awesome welcome show at 7:45 a.m.<br />
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And stay until the electric parade and fireworks at the end of the night.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6TXu90sps5M/UwjuWd4DfUI/AAAAAAAAEpI/ahTaEbxBV0g/s1600/IMG_0689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6TXu90sps5M/UwjuWd4DfUI/AAAAAAAAEpI/ahTaEbxBV0g/s1600/IMG_0689.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Forget a regular meal schedule. No time for breakfast until you've arrived at the park and made a mad dash for the Jedi Training Camp to get your future Jedi signed up. Lunch at Mama Melrose's was at 3:40 p.m.........</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D0Bys5EvofI/Uwjt60vMwkI/AAAAAAAAEoo/0MNO_f8HPbA/s1600/1911756_10203287252372048_1500822939_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D0Bys5EvofI/Uwjt60vMwkI/AAAAAAAAEoo/0MNO_f8HPbA/s1600/1911756_10203287252372048_1500822939_n.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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...aka nap time.</div>
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Dinner reservations at Cinderella's Castle were for 8:40 p.m....</div>
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...aka bed time.</div>
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Twilight Zone's Tower of Terror looks fun from a distance.<br />
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But requires some major pep talks on the approach.</div>
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You may have to battle the dark side...</div>
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find yourself in Mater's mouth...</div>
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and escape Donald's choke hold.</div>
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Disney resorts offer free shuttle service to hop the parks. Rarely is there much of a wait time, but when there is, take full advantage.<br />
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By the end of the day, there is not one body part that doesn't hurt. Three days + three parks = six tired but happy teammates. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-41947142073439353682013-11-08T11:55:00.001-06:002013-11-08T11:55:24.640-06:00Self-Image ExperimentI'm not sure when men came up with "No Shave November" but this is the first year I've heard anything about "No Make-Up November." Not shaving--for men--doesn't seem like much of a sacrifice. But to go all month without make-up? That's just absurd. Then I started reading what was behind this outrageous idea. And I decided to try it. For one day. Not the whole month, because I don't want people to think I'm dying.<br />
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I chose Monday. A day I wasn't going to the office, but also a day that I wasn't holed up in the security of homebound solitude. My handy-dandy-man was coming to work on some projects at the house, it was grocery shopping day, banking day and of course work-out day. The idea is to be confident in who you are...just the way God made you. To know that you are "wonderfully made." And it saves time--bonus!<br />
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It was actually a good experience. Surprisingly, I wasn't shunned.<br />
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And my handyman offered to come back today to work on some other projects I've been putting off.<br />
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I have him for the whole day. And believe me, I am keeping him busy! I think all women deserve a man who doesn't say, "you want me to do it <u>right now</u>?" every time you mention a home repair.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-58717574452273515722013-10-25T16:30:00.002-05:002013-10-25T16:30:12.553-05:00Checking out the new digs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In the Spring, I shared pics of my tenacious bluebirds that insist on building a nest in the pipe next to my cellar every year. Sadly, none of the 15+ eggs ever hatched in that incubator. </div>
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So me and the grandkids refurbished an old bird house later in the summer, hoping the bluebirds would find it a more appealing habitat.</div>
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I got a few photos of the birds checking out their new digs today. </div>
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Welcome home birdies.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-59532665451113147902013-08-30T18:34:00.003-05:002013-08-30T18:34:59.948-05:00I'm a lazy, lazy blogger...ZzzzzzzzIt's almost September and I've written a total of 16 posts in 2013. <br />
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Un---acceptable.<br />
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Here's a quick recap of our summer.<br />
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Jacob had a great baseball season.</div>
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Coached by Dad...</div>
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...and Uncle Jeff.</div>
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Swam</div>
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Cruised Alaska</div>
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Celebrated a Birthday</div>
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Built a Bird House</div>
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And successfully completed our first Pinterest DIY project.</div>
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Neal moved in--and Jeff moved out. </div>
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Neal left his job of 10 years at JVIC and joined the Willbros Downstream team. So I've been adjusting to having a live-in husband/grounds keeper/pool boy/ranch hand. I could get used to this.</div>
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Jeff rented an apartment in Tulsa, and I haven't wasted a moment purging the guest house and garage of leftover "stuff." I've decided it's more satisfying to give away and throw away than to buy and aquire. Who knew?</div>
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Packing tonight for a little vacay in Canada. Ready to spend some precious time with parents and siblings, kids and grandkids. Awesome.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-12637931267211028032013-07-15T15:15:00.000-05:002013-07-15T15:15:44.831-05:00DeterminedThese two will not give up.<br />
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They insist on building their nest every year in a hole in the pipe next to our cellar.</div>
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I've tried convincing them that it gets too hot in that pipe. I have yet to see a live baby bird emerge.</div>
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When we left for Alaska, their were five eggs in the nest. Neal checked in on them when we returned, and only found one. By the next afternoon, it too was missing. (I haven't seen our <a href="http://blevinsjournal.blogspot.com/2013/05/know-your-snakes.html">"king"</a> lately, but I was suspicious.)</div>
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A few days later, another egg had appeared. The next day--two. And now, once again, we have FIVE eggs in the nest.</div>
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This little momma is determined.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-42634002956203047692013-06-19T17:12:00.002-05:002013-06-19T17:12:52.245-05:00Fifteen Ways My Husband and I are DifferentThe Pioneer Woman threw out this challenge and I'm up for it.<br />
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Only fifteen?<br />
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Here goes.<br />
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1. He loves living in the country...land...lots of land. I'm a city girl. Give me a condo.<br />
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2. He's a country music fan. Not contemporary country. Classic Country. (Barf) I listen to contemporary Christian music.<br />
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3. I'm a "grammar nazi." He's an Okie. (No offense.)<br />
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4. Him: Miracle Whip. Me: Mayo<br />
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5. He's a dog person. I'm a cat person.<br />
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6. He grew up with all brothers. I only have sisters.<br />
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7. I could eat chicken 4 or 5 times a week. He gags on chicken.<br />
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8. Me: Thick crust. Him: Thin & Crispy.<br />
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9. I like a clean and tidy house. He's Pig Pen from Peanuts.<br />
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10. He wants to "live off the land." I like Reasors.<br />
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11. I love to read. He waits for the movie.<br />
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12. I'm always cold. He's always hot.<br />
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13. Perfect vacation for him: Hunting or fishing (or both) in the mountains. Me: Cottage on the beach, a good book and antique shops nearby.<br />
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14. His TV - ESPN. My TV - HGTV.<br />
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15. I love technology--the newer the better. He just started texting this week. (Against his will.)<br />
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Married 36 years. Go figure.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-28933296545534038302013-05-24T21:54:00.000-05:002013-05-24T21:54:40.449-05:00Know Your SnakesContrary to popular belief and the good common sense of intelligent city girls everywhere--not all snakes are bad.<div>
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The one that decided to take a swim in my pool when I was <u>clearly</u> trying to remove the vacuum, was a <i>bad</i> snake...</div>
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...and deserves the 7 bb's it took to it's tell-tale triangular head. This, my friends, is a Copperhead. Bad.</div>
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The one that greeted me on my front window this afternoon was a <i>good</i> snake...</div>
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This one gets the thumbs-up.</div>
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Oh. Hello.</div>
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I'm told this is a King Snake. And I'm told they eat mice and other <i>bad</i> snakes. (He obviously missed the Copperhead earlier in the week.) </div>
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And apparently baby birds that are nesting in the gutters.</div>
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Looks like he swallowed two of them.</div>
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And then decided to hang out on top of my door frame.</div>
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Take my advice and come to my back door.</div>
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Welcome Friends.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-64413467460501794292013-05-15T21:45:00.000-05:002013-05-15T21:45:06.979-05:00When She's 16, She'll Curse Me For This PostOne of Lauren's favorite things to do at my house is look through the picture boxes. <br />
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Specifically, old pictures of Jeff. <br />
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She has a secret crush on uncle Jeff. Not the grown-up uncle Jeff.<br />
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The 8-year-old uncle Jeff.<br />
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She cradled this one next to her heart.<br />
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It's not that weird. When I was little, I had a crush on my teen-aged cousins, Roger & Larry. Okay. Maybe it's a little weird.<br />
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Anyway...when she finally took her eyes off her imaginary beau and looked at his brother, she screamed, "O-M-G! That looks just like Jacob!"<br />
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Indeed.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-27444341378410539132013-05-06T21:36:00.000-05:002013-05-06T21:36:24.735-05:00Car Games with LaurenNana. Guess what I'm drawing.<br />
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Okay. What does it start with?<br />
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"A."<br />
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Apple?<br />
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No. It ends with an "N."<br />
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Does it breathe?<br />
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No. It's not an animal and it's not a plant.<br />
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Um...Um...Um...<br />
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It's our President.<br />
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Obama?<br />
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No. Abraham Lincoln.<br />
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(I guess that explains the "not breathing" clue.)<br />
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Oh. Are you learning about him in school?<br />
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Yes. He was watching a play in a theater and a man shot him in the head. And he was our best president.<br />
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Yep. He was a good one.<br />
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Spencer looks like him.<br />
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Who's Spencer?<br />
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A boy in my class.<br />
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<i>The girl keeps me laughing!</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-73883810446413962242013-05-05T22:47:00.000-05:002013-05-06T09:07:33.344-05:00Triumphs and HeartbreakThis was a killer weekend.<br />
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Baseball tournament in Bixby and State Gymnastics Competition in Bartlesville.<br />
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It's a beautiful day for baseball.</div>
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42 degrees and rain/sleet/hail<br />
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The 10:45 game finally kicked off at 1:53. </div>
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I've endured worse. In March. In Lincoln, NE.</div>
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On the bright side--I finished my book--<i>Sarah's Key</i>--which I highly recommend. Not quite as good as <i>The Book Thief.</i> But still quite good.</div>
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It was a tough loss. Bottom of 6th, 2 outs, winning run scores. :( Jacob was really down on himself for missing a fly ball. All the boys were down.</div>
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Trista and I left before the second game started so we could make the hour and a half drive to the gymnastics meet. On the way, she got a text that Jacob hit a grand slam! They won that game 12-4.</div>
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I'm pretty pumped that gymnastics is an indoor sport.</div>
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Presenting....Airborne Athletics!</div>
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Clearly, Lauren was not feeling her usual perky self.<br />
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You would never guess it by her performance.</div>
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Catching some air.</div>
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I think she told me this was a "saché" but I get confused. </div>
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And...the dismount.</div>
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She. Is. Awesome.</div>
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And I'm getting really good at holding my breath. Just sayin'.</div>
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I thought I video'd her floor exercise. It was fabulous! Nailed the back hand-spring with no spotter. But instead of video-ing, I got a picture of the start...</div>
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and the finish...<br />
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I'm such a dork.<br />
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Her best scores yet = Bars 8.4 - Beam 8.5 - Floor 9.35 - Puked her guts up all over her leo - Vault 8.7</div>
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In that order. I told you she didn't feel good.</div>
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Anyway...</div>
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2nd Place All-Around</div>
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There's that smile.</div>
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Conversation in the car: </div>
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Lauren: Nana, do you know "2 Black Cadillacs"?</div>
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Me: No I don't.</div>
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Lauren: Oh, you just listen to Jesus songs. Cause you LOVE Jesus.</div>
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Well I guess if that's the legacy I leave, I'll be happy with that. I just hope she sees it in my life as much as in my radio station choice.</div>
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Jacob's game today went down just about exactly like the first. Bottom of 6th, 2 outs, opponents score winning run. But the weather was a lot more cooperative and the boys need more practice at losing with grace.</div>
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Cold. Exhausted. Sore back and butt. I wouldn't have it any other way. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-15822840587533029552013-04-14T19:50:00.001-05:002013-04-14T19:50:43.930-05:00How many ways can you say "redneck"?This, my friends, constitutes an emergency in the Blevins' household.<br />
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An empty pickled quail eggs' jar.</div>
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And no reserves in the pantry.</div>
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I will try almost any food. Not pickled quail eggs. I have to draw the line somewhere.</div>
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I <u>will</u>, however, use the jalapeno's left in the jar to top off my nachos. </div>
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But only in an emergency.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-19698693759092558462013-04-03T10:31:00.000-05:002013-04-03T10:31:06.093-05:00Easter 2013Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays. Very little pressure and prep time, unlike Thanksgiving and Christmas. And much calmer and less dangerous than 4th of July. (Fireworks + Boys = Spastic Mom)<br />
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This year I had to be reminded the previous Sunday that it was actually one week away. Gone are the days of dying eggs, filling baskets and the obligatory new Easter clothes. So sad. 'Cause I really got into dressing my sons--until they finally dug in and said, "ENOUGH!"<br />
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Judging by the 2 missing teeth, I'd say Jeff was about 6. Never a clothes horse, he would still appease me most of the time. Like most great photographers I made sure to have the perfect background. The Zenith console tv, right? The Hardee's beverage cup. Wait! We never had the money to eat out. Oh yeah, I see my dad in the background. That explains it.<br />
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So that would make Jeremy about 8. And apparently the Don Johnson look was in vogue. He's been very particular about his clothes ever since. Trista--you can thank me--or blame me--whatever.<br />
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I spent Easter weekend with my mate. On the Gulf Coast. It was warm. It was relaxing. And he cooked for me when we didn't eat out. Perfect.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-29205339974795434852013-02-22T20:01:00.000-06:002013-02-22T20:01:41.239-06:0010th DayEnough already.<br />
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I made it 10 days without TV. That's more than one-fifth of the Lent season. So maybe I'm four-fifths' failure or maybe I'm one-fifth holier. But my best friends, Janet & Terry, said I could end it. And the Bible says, "if two of you on earth agree about anything..." <br />
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Okay, I might have taken that a little out of context.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-37597542401657594832013-02-20T12:41:00.001-06:002013-02-20T12:41:40.732-06:00Day 8Getting lots done today, because #1: It's my day off. #2: It's snowing. #3: No TV.<br />
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Looks like my camera survived the Coke Zero incident. Yes! (fist pump)<br />
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Pretty.<br />
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Hope it's gone tomorrow.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-41389570344486705272013-02-19T21:22:00.000-06:002013-02-19T21:22:07.947-06:00Not Even Missing TV...SeriouslyNearing the end of Day 7 of my TV fast. Thirty-nine to go. Not even watching the news, so if something historical goes down, will someone please clue me in?<br />
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Got home last night after a 4-day weekend in Houston. Lauren has been "patiently" waiting for her turn to go see Papa. Let me tell ya--everyone should spend 4 days with a 6-year old. It is both exhausting AND rejuvenating! Days of exploring and reading and crafts. Nights of funky dance moves and Nana & Lauren's rendition of "I'm Gonna Make You Love Me." I won't be able to listen to the BeeGees or Temptations again without fond memories of Neal, Lauren and Me dancing in an RV in our pj's.<br />
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The Dock</div>
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Bald eagles are nesting down the road from the RV Resort. Last year they tracked them from Sand Springs. Not kidding.</div>
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- Photography by Lauren Blevins</div>
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This is how Neal had to eat dinner the first night. No, she's not sleeping, just snuggling.</div>
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Houston has an amazing Museum of Natural Science.</div>
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The butterfly sanctuary.</div>
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The Chocolate Bar</div>
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Kemah Boardwalk:</div>
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Of course she wants Papa to ride the carousel with her...</div>
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And Nana--the Ferris Wheel (how does she know I have a fear of heights?)</div>
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In some ways Lauren is so much like me....and in some ways not-so-much. She is not shy, and talks pretty much non-stop. Here's the friend she made at the airport in Houston, fresh back from Disneyworld--Lauren's biggest dream second to being a rock star.</div>
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Our flight was delayed a little and we didn't arrive in Tulsa until after 8:30 p.m. The shuttle to the parking garage was packed, but similar to elevators, no one was talking. Lauren couldn't stand it and said, "It sure is QUIET in here!" and proceeded to ask the couple next to us all manner of personal questions. We all knew each other quite well by the time we got to our cars.</div>
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We had a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious weekend. Jacob, however, is still not speaking to me.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-59596084728148903582013-02-14T20:54:00.000-06:002013-02-14T20:54:27.654-06:002nd Day of LentI'm not sure if it's withdrawals, but I've had a headache all day. But good news! The internet says that there's no "fasting" on the Christian Sabbath, aka Sunday. I had to do some major research to find that. So maybe I won't have to wait til Easter to catch up on my shows. :) Also read that the Archdiocese of New Orleans says that alligator is seafood. So if you're giving up meat...things are starting to look up.<br />
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I emptied a third of a bottle of Coke Zero in my camera bag tonight. Shoulda been watching TV.<br />
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Not only is today the 2nd day of Lent, it's also Valentine's Day. Here's a picture of what my Valentine gave me:<br />
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That's right. Nothing.<br />
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I got him the same thing. We must be in love.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-90117170085688232282013-02-13T21:33:00.000-06:002013-02-13T21:33:45.339-06:00Ash WednesdayI'm giving up TV for Lent. Therefore, I am blogging. Sadly, I'm not giving up DVR-ing, so I don't want to see any FB posts about who Sean proposes to, or who's the Biggest Loser. I'll find out for myself after Easter, thank you very much.<br />
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My husband did some calculating and informed me that he puts in more hours of work per week than I do per month. I think not. Maybe he gets <b>payed </b>for more hours, but I don't think he's taking all things into consideration. Today, I got our taxes together, met with the accountant, met with an insurance agent to get a better rate, went to the grocery store, the bank, the post office and the pharmacy. Did 2 loads of laundry--folded and put away--picked the grandkids up from school, prepared 4 bowls of cereal for them, read two books (<i>I Am a Monster </i>and <i>Spongebob and the Great Snail Race</i>), colored two pages in the Giant Bug Coloring Book, found and printed an airport parking coupon for this weekend, made rental car reservations, and went to church. I need to start logging my hours.<br />
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Speaking of work hours. I'm gonna have to start working an extra hour a day just to pay for my gas to get there. $3.49/gallon. What????<br />
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So. My first day with no TV. Just 45 days to go.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-15105131831210685072013-02-11T17:51:00.000-06:002013-02-11T17:51:34.608-06:00Granddaughters are GrandGymnastics meets have begun. And although it's not a gender-specific sport, it's one my boys never attempted. So it's pretty fun to watch Lauren. And she's really quite good.<br />
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Here are a few photos from her first two meets.<br />
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Haven't even started and she's practicing her salute.</div>
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Ready for the Vault</div>
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And there she goes!</div>
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So far, her best scores have been in this event. 9.3 both meets.</div>
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Unevens </div>
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Floor</div>
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Original announcement put her 4th All-Around, but after further calculations, she was actually 5th.</div>
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Still...awesome.</div>
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Two weeks later.....</div>
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Warm-up splits. Which she forgot to do in her Floor Routine, resulting in a deduction. :(</div>
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Balance Beam</div>
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The gym wasn't set up well for spectators/photographers. So I'll have to have a little talk with them about that. Able to get a few on the balance beam. </div>
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She fell off the beam once during the first meet. But this time....</div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Nailed it! </span></i>(High C singing voice.)</div>
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Fourth place again. This time for real!</div>
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Jacob's pretty bored with the whole thing.</div>
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Me: Hey Jacob, Lauren's getting ready to do her Floor routine. Ya wanna watch her?</div>
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Jacob: Nah.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07619839877783851853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20050647.post-88573080265299709912013-01-12T10:58:00.000-06:002013-01-12T10:58:13.198-06:00Resolution #3: Get Organized / Get Rid of StuffAnd by that, I mean throw away old receipts. Like from April 27, 2010. I'm serious.<br />
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This morning, I tackled two dresser drawers. This stresses me out, 'cause I go through periods of tossing Hallmark cards, but when I start reading some that I've saved it makes me all sentimental and like, <i>I'll never throw away an anniversary card ever again!</i><br />
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Which brings me to today's project. I've had an envelope in my drawer for, ummm, about 23 years, give or take. Inside are strips, bits and pieces of torn paper. I'll never forget the day I tucked that envelope away. <br />
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It was around Mother's Day, and it was about the time my sweet oldest child transitioned from perfect child to <i>Damien</i> from <i>The Omen</i>.<br />
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I found the torn paper in his room and tried to fit some of the pieces together, but all I could make out was that it was a "Mother's Day Assignement" at school. Suffice it to say, he was really ticked off at me that day. And every day for the next eight years.<br />
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I vowed to "some day" piece the puzzle together and see what he had originally written. <br />
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So that's what I've been doing most of the morning.<br />
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Draw a picture of your mother. (He drew me smiling, so that's good.)<br />
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Write a paragraph explaining how you can keep your own mother happy. <i>Always obeying her and doing what she tells you to do.</i><br />
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List three things you do that make Mother unhappy. how could you solve each of these problems?<br />
<i>1. Flushing the tolet. Start flushing the tolet. </i>(I'm still really OCD about this.)<br />
<i>2. Cleaning room. Keep it clean.</i><br />
<i>3. Not doing homework. Doing it right when I get home.</i> (Yeah, that never happened.)<br />
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Use your imagination to tell what would happen in your home if your mother...<br />
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...had a magic wand. <i>She would fix all her problems in one second.</i><br />
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...won a million dollars in a television contest. <i>Buy a mini van and a porsh.</i><br />
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...found a black kitten in a basket on the doorstep. <i>She would keep it.</i><br />
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...could take a trip to any place in the world she wanted to go. <i>She would go to Jamaca.</i><br />
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...had a chance to go to the moon. <i>She wouldn't go.</i> (Ya wanna bet?)<br />
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...baked a magic cake. <i>She would let all the family including her eat it.</i><br />
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...could buy you any present you'd like. <i>It would be an computer.</i><br />
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Write a paragraph telling something special about your mother.<br />
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<i>She allways takes time to spend with my brother and I. And always gives us nice gifts.</i><br />
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<i>I love you mom!!!!!</i></div>
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<i>xxxooooooooX</i></div>
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<i>love, </i></div>
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<i>Jeremy</i></div>
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Jeremy turned 35 yesterday. I hope to goodness he has learned to flush the toilet.</div>
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