tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7766556673428964262024-03-06T02:25:02.607-05:00Veronica BouldenThis blog is a journal, a family photo album, a recipe box... Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.comBlogger2535125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-56537988232196092132024-02-19T12:13:00.002-05:002024-02-25T08:19:14.885-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDApsugw9OjIb198VD4WqKzs7Yllshn0EGaZFNNodRRKRWr1KKks3fQT-BrB4XiJZrmKRP-97HsTJUFnogr6HC45qKlvn6EDtWAo851ehPiAHw9W-EHLXI87u7uegv8X3RFvImIJBpIIr-uYpgpdw9SZb7nThJ-KQdlocNa5FZaxapuoNsfg24J7pQAmcK/s640/IMG_2481.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDApsugw9OjIb198VD4WqKzs7Yllshn0EGaZFNNodRRKRWr1KKks3fQT-BrB4XiJZrmKRP-97HsTJUFnogr6HC45qKlvn6EDtWAo851ehPiAHw9W-EHLXI87u7uegv8X3RFvImIJBpIIr-uYpgpdw9SZb7nThJ-KQdlocNa5FZaxapuoNsfg24J7pQAmcK/w300-h400/IMG_2481.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />I finished "How It Went" by Wendell Berry last night. So I was able to read <i>both</i> books of Berry's short stories about Port William before our recent trip to Florida was over. <p></p><p>I was often crying, one time out-right sobbing, sometimes reading portions aloud to Dwayne and talking to him about the text, highlighting many quotes for my common place book. </p><p>And I am <i>still</i> thinking about what was said, knowing I'll need to read these books again soon. </p><p>Large, deep parts of my soul feel like they have been shifted around. </p><p>These are not a books one looks up from to see the world the same as before. </p><p><br /></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-79238489104315810652024-02-15T20:05:00.000-05:002024-02-15T20:05:11.189-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4T7bbo95z9VT2fk8uDF6VmT2of4liJib3d3nWSHAQJY1BnpnnncAkXZNOJH4Z9fSN6IJz6uxsF2o9dh0EUTsNKC9Rmg7EEOKkfDB9OuFdjMVU9YAPg-bwoK5Y2sYYbkY-phr8ItwbNcY0inz9ZoKPBMxp2nCY9OvFIsKqV12uEhGGT_bf1pRdXoIX2NF/s640/IMG_2470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4T7bbo95z9VT2fk8uDF6VmT2of4liJib3d3nWSHAQJY1BnpnnncAkXZNOJH4Z9fSN6IJz6uxsF2o9dh0EUTsNKC9Rmg7EEOKkfDB9OuFdjMVU9YAPg-bwoK5Y2sYYbkY-phr8ItwbNcY0inz9ZoKPBMxp2nCY9OvFIsKqV12uEhGGT_bf1pRdXoIX2NF/w400-h300/IMG_2470.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> This picture reminds me of the Andrew Wyeth painting "Christina's World." I'm going to call it "Adele's World." <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMfwg6fgNijbG9yP_ZKVaJdDEPztDp_rjQBsXD9zBpiz1fL9KHUCkq_96pyumGO3RFLs3nwMMKR56MUht35dMdcMQ22HQ7etYiBlfuXkfAAyfM_PHApxYCsav6wwa3Ynnk4rYduxBgNu7kb8zFOaVM4Ggk9FSXTwUh11llKRIiv9mfm805ErKsW-hKRdbo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMfwg6fgNijbG9yP_ZKVaJdDEPztDp_rjQBsXD9zBpiz1fL9KHUCkq_96pyumGO3RFLs3nwMMKR56MUht35dMdcMQ22HQ7etYiBlfuXkfAAyfM_PHApxYCsav6wwa3Ynnk4rYduxBgNu7kb8zFOaVM4Ggk9FSXTwUh11llKRIiv9mfm805ErKsW-hKRdbo=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-5293468632823935542024-02-14T20:06:00.002-05:002024-02-19T12:16:48.141-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVwIqv24VUMtLQCpYWX8vwxru0lz78fAZqiBxmXQg4bYPiC3q8WSEN4bpH1f1cQtjUevNwABroqiI7WuquWN8dvLRVqkB5Kn_IBcygiCkXFpIF1yGKh-30WMwaRMS0JSAxB7xTEiYqto1Nfsw6zbRYfMkfYMvUwflrfE1fNwgg8tFn9k-U5_dHyIEm7_B/s640/IMG_2412.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVwIqv24VUMtLQCpYWX8vwxru0lz78fAZqiBxmXQg4bYPiC3q8WSEN4bpH1f1cQtjUevNwABroqiI7WuquWN8dvLRVqkB5Kn_IBcygiCkXFpIF1yGKh-30WMwaRMS0JSAxB7xTEiYqto1Nfsw6zbRYfMkfYMvUwflrfE1fNwgg8tFn9k-U5_dHyIEm7_B/s320/IMG_2412.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Our visit with Grandma continues... with cookies and ice cream in the evenings, and a visit to Brevard Zoo, one of her favorite places. On the way home, we had dinner at Rib City, which is now one of my favorite places. <p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-RQts6QPQajEp-qb547HM1BjnnY_roOLkoG7z36a1LVmnO6-xUG71_daZCApRxY5kE9wD8DR9k76Wxuv4YOS3iNs_Ocgpefu9o8l4OZD7qxBMmy4_sEJNcd7yIO49yPw5qlQPl2a_e-CLcw-zpVKDZQA2TGHTYWsdYE7b_qbzilLlFhQJ3mso9rZcmvO/s640/IMG_2415.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-RQts6QPQajEp-qb547HM1BjnnY_roOLkoG7z36a1LVmnO6-xUG71_daZCApRxY5kE9wD8DR9k76Wxuv4YOS3iNs_Ocgpefu9o8l4OZD7qxBMmy4_sEJNcd7yIO49yPw5qlQPl2a_e-CLcw-zpVKDZQA2TGHTYWsdYE7b_qbzilLlFhQJ3mso9rZcmvO/s320/IMG_2415.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaL3yfABKIkDvp-UhWjc9RzdEurI0hRMwpz3jHedciJK7pormg1BBC9DrbG5D1P4NdxlXVcE1chMi4IomHcn9RdqcpVTvAX7VX6gIw4iAYvdlpBV29uCt4vVooQiSB3mVIXukilUW8VHv2cnoKu_N-SzF9YkUFXssCaUwifC09lPobgeervRz4qc2VJSW/s640/IMG_2418.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaL3yfABKIkDvp-UhWjc9RzdEurI0hRMwpz3jHedciJK7pormg1BBC9DrbG5D1P4NdxlXVcE1chMi4IomHcn9RdqcpVTvAX7VX6gIw4iAYvdlpBV29uCt4vVooQiSB3mVIXukilUW8VHv2cnoKu_N-SzF9YkUFXssCaUwifC09lPobgeervRz4qc2VJSW/s320/IMG_2418.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7p6_kcEEAxcevQRBzyuNEKzmBUt_A276Tpi-scIKjKf2-0L0YARTmO0zZcgkNwGQjQmyRnpcq1I1cAw9vIPr6bZenRqbMNriBKnHLE489Q_ux7Ug8P2_8mvtffFqLOcnPqakcEnLe69LZDmKRcRAP0NJAu9E_kXHj_-GF21mCqz3Y_XqNyTGjLqRHPq0/s640/IMG_2437.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7p6_kcEEAxcevQRBzyuNEKzmBUt_A276Tpi-scIKjKf2-0L0YARTmO0zZcgkNwGQjQmyRnpcq1I1cAw9vIPr6bZenRqbMNriBKnHLE489Q_ux7Ug8P2_8mvtffFqLOcnPqakcEnLe69LZDmKRcRAP0NJAu9E_kXHj_-GF21mCqz3Y_XqNyTGjLqRHPq0/s320/IMG_2437.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Dwayne's cousins came to visit before we left town. Our nephew and his wife live nearby, so they also came to visit. They have a new puppy that we all enjoyed so, so much. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgze5351ba7186pMysA1zVUuswpi9QS5P-VuV3t9OHCKfSHydLz-yphwf_C0ntDeFv1yPxKrRySMxShrXn_EaK-gEFEGiXaLv-im4jfQmGs5AKEWsPism2ZHQ2Xa-tEfAGUnYxKUvuayL1i1HnlfVznBpp6OXw3qB0ljSabRcId4ZGUqJgAr1-AirrJzLNJ/s640/IMG_2476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgze5351ba7186pMysA1zVUuswpi9QS5P-VuV3t9OHCKfSHydLz-yphwf_C0ntDeFv1yPxKrRySMxShrXn_EaK-gEFEGiXaLv-im4jfQmGs5AKEWsPism2ZHQ2Xa-tEfAGUnYxKUvuayL1i1HnlfVznBpp6OXw3qB0ljSabRcId4ZGUqJgAr1-AirrJzLNJ/s320/IMG_2476.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-91350335894540870282024-02-14T20:00:00.005-05:002024-02-14T20:17:09.036-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpLrSqMT4yHCZeRz6i2yS311nuqkpbhwOrWkmbonqrKKZDW0HQfdI0SMEyYtrm2IBWeost69JjNuuHp7wBIy-qanIZHZ8PcNlUYHPwnuRXZHZ23bVuSWia-grjwtpsiSf1Gkr-35fskEEf45li2yqso7su7u09Pf1qzufXcDFmCPZUm8oOyFQrLTaTYot/s640/IMG_2469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpLrSqMT4yHCZeRz6i2yS311nuqkpbhwOrWkmbonqrKKZDW0HQfdI0SMEyYtrm2IBWeost69JjNuuHp7wBIy-qanIZHZ8PcNlUYHPwnuRXZHZ23bVuSWia-grjwtpsiSf1Gkr-35fskEEf45li2yqso7su7u09Pf1qzufXcDFmCPZUm8oOyFQrLTaTYot/s320/IMG_2469.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">These two are watching through Star Trek Next Gen together. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It is our duty to bodly pass on culture to the next generation. </div><p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-54915580489982381372024-02-14T20:00:00.003-05:002024-02-14T20:00:45.121-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtDS5JoHXG8SmLkxEx054ilIDZhSS30vlUeeXaXnpcNWzFfqWE8dXOGf-vaRGeh2ohVjvFhLde75BQzImTkDuWBBYm5zHr8F1-5yULWCku2o8LwJSWl9CNzbefrnkQ0HIGUC4OxizvuGq5znKUGAZBZHOgQcz-xSBI0rIYv3sVys_Dy11jdD8lH5MYEJKQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtDS5JoHXG8SmLkxEx054ilIDZhSS30vlUeeXaXnpcNWzFfqWE8dXOGf-vaRGeh2ohVjvFhLde75BQzImTkDuWBBYm5zHr8F1-5yULWCku2o8LwJSWl9CNzbefrnkQ0HIGUC4OxizvuGq5znKUGAZBZHOgQcz-xSBI0rIYv3sVys_Dy11jdD8lH5MYEJKQ=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"At such times as these she felt that the great, mute creation was trying to speak to her. This disturbed her, it moved her almost to tears, for it seemed to intimate the nearness of some consolation- forever imminent and unreachable, almost knowable- for everything that was wrong." </span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">-Wendell Berry, A Place in Time</span></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-50216882091727001522024-02-13T14:24:00.006-05:002024-02-13T14:24:46.443-05:00This Time and Place<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYcl_oRgM1uQAhm_FEhEffKTBYbg6I3l0X08CSASl3nTG27qt02V3fgVG_QyZyxbNX-LcKJ6x8tSj6zMs0tphinqFqrrIk409F55_f4r2qYMazIcqxDhAfNaVWazEtQqEb6LJmFJLLXpYWVGBQE1XhEYKz0Z0FduOR7qS72j3J7lnxkZKY5L2kINv9WEv/s640/72927994861__447562D1-9AE8-4561-93E3-0FBEBC7AEEBB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYcl_oRgM1uQAhm_FEhEffKTBYbg6I3l0X08CSASl3nTG27qt02V3fgVG_QyZyxbNX-LcKJ6x8tSj6zMs0tphinqFqrrIk409F55_f4r2qYMazIcqxDhAfNaVWazEtQqEb6LJmFJLLXpYWVGBQE1XhEYKz0Z0FduOR7qS72j3J7lnxkZKY5L2kINv9WEv/s640/72927994861__447562D1-9AE8-4561-93E3-0FBEBC7AEEBB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYcl_oRgM1uQAhm_FEhEffKTBYbg6I3l0X08CSASl3nTG27qt02V3fgVG_QyZyxbNX-LcKJ6x8tSj6zMs0tphinqFqrrIk409F55_f4r2qYMazIcqxDhAfNaVWazEtQqEb6LJmFJLLXpYWVGBQE1XhEYKz0Z0FduOR7qS72j3J7lnxkZKY5L2kINv9WEv/s640/72927994861__447562D1-9AE8-4561-93E3-0FBEBC7AEEBB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYcl_oRgM1uQAhm_FEhEffKTBYbg6I3l0X08CSASl3nTG27qt02V3fgVG_QyZyxbNX-LcKJ6x8tSj6zMs0tphinqFqrrIk409F55_f4r2qYMazIcqxDhAfNaVWazEtQqEb6LJmFJLLXpYWVGBQE1XhEYKz0Z0FduOR7qS72j3J7lnxkZKY5L2kINv9WEv/s640/72927994861__447562D1-9AE8-4561-93E3-0FBEBC7AEEBB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYcl_oRgM1uQAhm_FEhEffKTBYbg6I3l0X08CSASl3nTG27qt02V3fgVG_QyZyxbNX-LcKJ6x8tSj6zMs0tphinqFqrrIk409F55_f4r2qYMazIcqxDhAfNaVWazEtQqEb6LJmFJLLXpYWVGBQE1XhEYKz0Z0FduOR7qS72j3J7lnxkZKY5L2kINv9WEv/s320/72927994861__447562D1-9AE8-4561-93E3-0FBEBC7AEEBB.jpg" width="240" /></div><p>We're visiting Dwayne's mom at her home in Vero Beach. Mom has been in the hospital and rehab since Thanksgiving, so we've come to give Dwayne's sister a break and simply enjoy the time we have with mom. It's in the middle of our homeschool year, and we all have so many responsibilities, but as we order our lives, nothing is more important than being with mom right now. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00BXdLySJ62iL1rOdxX0vgJXja1lWUmb77Jtfk8m2DXte7sj77j1zrcbXCoJwxgHDfdfe2mlgscu85jeciXq1M1QysIPKg5wmD56F9bJCCHv7BG1jLGylZegQ1cMVHjkbaMkg4Z6IOlQJ5q_6J5twUOrN57rdyOUnYt0isDFnpq3zlMusciKToV_uVeb-/s640/IMG_2346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00BXdLySJ62iL1rOdxX0vgJXja1lWUmb77Jtfk8m2DXte7sj77j1zrcbXCoJwxgHDfdfe2mlgscu85jeciXq1M1QysIPKg5wmD56F9bJCCHv7BG1jLGylZegQ1cMVHjkbaMkg4Z6IOlQJ5q_6J5twUOrN57rdyOUnYt0isDFnpq3zlMusciKToV_uVeb-/s320/IMG_2346.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p>We take at least one walk on the beach everyday, and the landscape varies constantly, drastically, yet it's always beautiful. <p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht6ZEKevc0NDIHtF5OYjn6dfQvMdNXCuYIoJGARRT9MOHUwjNQVmmbekTRgaZeI-eGd7IiVGtGOCUkLq1Uq-kswHLDeCFQZBo7Lg_Wp6D7H-OmYlO_0U1kov4iNKp5g6PiR1kHxq3xciveVkNWC6aOAxcTyQmYm-uGlu0TP4-at5lwwo7GkGx2_8ki4Vt7/s640/IMG_2356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht6ZEKevc0NDIHtF5OYjn6dfQvMdNXCuYIoJGARRT9MOHUwjNQVmmbekTRgaZeI-eGd7IiVGtGOCUkLq1Uq-kswHLDeCFQZBo7Lg_Wp6D7H-OmYlO_0U1kov4iNKp5g6PiR1kHxq3xciveVkNWC6aOAxcTyQmYm-uGlu0TP4-at5lwwo7GkGx2_8ki4Vt7/s320/IMG_2356.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJm_opfZ4wZbxkGFgEOlVyNebTvgAVnH17sOKFC2ymrSlvaDEhDQqL7sk_2m9vzkDNmXjVv9zm_KUZcXsw2iEwvd7DoN8DDQkpouYVj6a7x4PKGmUoun0RRkTuEobif94OydtaDGwgB9EAHWQbbS60k-4JG0QP1XDd21os6QEtJcOtASyAhP5V4MyU-d1u/s640/IMG_2357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJm_opfZ4wZbxkGFgEOlVyNebTvgAVnH17sOKFC2ymrSlvaDEhDQqL7sk_2m9vzkDNmXjVv9zm_KUZcXsw2iEwvd7DoN8DDQkpouYVj6a7x4PKGmUoun0RRkTuEobif94OydtaDGwgB9EAHWQbbS60k-4JG0QP1XDd21os6QEtJcOtASyAhP5V4MyU-d1u/s320/IMG_2357.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>What Grandma wants, she gets. She wanted snickerdoodle, so...</p><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOC0zvgqF8T-AtGzsRiwA9ASRFQdsdvjIs6wCPEHEVjq1nog1YC0X2uIAYHM9Msw1_YeZdQhTyV0nLP3CdigpUQAyTXHhzATrTV6Py82XolYgGuoUQbnzAG_-XRcF-UMxGDcFBgolWTFh4bSPfaa8zyHARVcDx_t0G119tlpPTeFV0pmeKPSUciw5A4vUa/s640/IMG_2359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOC0zvgqF8T-AtGzsRiwA9ASRFQdsdvjIs6wCPEHEVjq1nog1YC0X2uIAYHM9Msw1_YeZdQhTyV0nLP3CdigpUQAyTXHhzATrTV6Py82XolYgGuoUQbnzAG_-XRcF-UMxGDcFBgolWTFh4bSPfaa8zyHARVcDx_t0G119tlpPTeFV0pmeKPSUciw5A4vUa/s320/IMG_2359.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tlt0Z8TBovcy-XanV23ETk2ReliNbh25GKSCR47CKdVitj28ARUmQOzEdyuSn6nrTPwwSG67Mf46QXKQ1-A_8E_84UXEPTBRdZls19zLudDTm9fLrRmPvSR-3KBWIqIjYyPS0JWcQaPw6tiboGCoa_aGbMvieI1SEtuyodgJuXyBB8pcpgS7-elyYtFg/s640/IMG_2361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tlt0Z8TBovcy-XanV23ETk2ReliNbh25GKSCR47CKdVitj28ARUmQOzEdyuSn6nrTPwwSG67Mf46QXKQ1-A_8E_84UXEPTBRdZls19zLudDTm9fLrRmPvSR-3KBWIqIjYyPS0JWcQaPw6tiboGCoa_aGbMvieI1SEtuyodgJuXyBB8pcpgS7-elyYtFg/s320/IMG_2361.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41xxrIw8OPCy-3rB9EAjjqbbLmSZSQsXxh1UCa-JfkkJP5aZqQB_47ZNOdIM1h5TXSl6SeP9re0IpycpE_P7UIrusPJSQck478zxdn8jWHNFCadk6T8FSuPzOwkJP96-3ZJj0A7Lg5h7h9Ep9CPSw3L4D6s7mddAHjkkMuGMi5_Z-vyWNTgyzoui8Hd2l/s640/IMG_2381.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41xxrIw8OPCy-3rB9EAjjqbbLmSZSQsXxh1UCa-JfkkJP5aZqQB_47ZNOdIM1h5TXSl6SeP9re0IpycpE_P7UIrusPJSQck478zxdn8jWHNFCadk6T8FSuPzOwkJP96-3ZJj0A7Lg5h7h9Ep9CPSw3L4D6s7mddAHjkkMuGMi5_Z-vyWNTgyzoui8Hd2l/s320/IMG_2381.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p><br /></p>The exuberance of nature overwhelms my senses at the beach. I can almost hear the earth singing. The sun warms my face and the cold waves roar and then whisper and break on my toes and the salt spray mingles with the salt tears at the corners of my eyes and a chuckle rises in my belly at the exact same time it rises in Adele's belly, too, and we laugh in unison at the sandpipers feet, at it all, at everything. It's like all created things are laughing with us or they were laughing first and we are just now joining them; Genesis was just a minute ago, and the new earth and Heaven are only one minute away. Beauty smiles at us, and we are welcomed into the dance. <p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSLQe_tpXxYEFJxWu1cq4VpSXEXJl15ctH_CgM5_hulj9NTFHoqVbPW57X1KkP5aLuO83lHbWDENuZ74MOi_ocrTYvu1PG62ex8IlX77_-L_s8atjTTbCasOo2Eju5XNetwcG3zOYgOiaiq3ElHnFYhEJ3thTCElT9l4CuTFkVzeHx_UB4KfWuGTB-15c/s640/IMG_2388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSLQe_tpXxYEFJxWu1cq4VpSXEXJl15ctH_CgM5_hulj9NTFHoqVbPW57X1KkP5aLuO83lHbWDENuZ74MOi_ocrTYvu1PG62ex8IlX77_-L_s8atjTTbCasOo2Eju5XNetwcG3zOYgOiaiq3ElHnFYhEJ3thTCElT9l4CuTFkVzeHx_UB4KfWuGTB-15c/s320/IMG_2388.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>This crab lifted his claws as I came near to take his picture. I lost my nerve and ran away when the wave broke behind him and he came barreling towards my bare toes. I ran like a school girl. </p><p>I noticed how the water wrapped around itself and flowed back to the sea in the shape of a backbone. There were little and smaller backbones appearing all along the beach as the water got closer to the waves. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidAI4wx-ciXuTLQjpVuTTRRWCcDyALGROSLn6xYFjWmU_F3tsADu-gCH_3HiCtnjvS_IVxF804fb6TJ5lJEyg8dMHdVZjnss8x0ae7PDWJbYQc0YEhXHFt20pXOvMTfwtYvGnfcXeltc2Av-sr5-iEs7qOHyoeEL_mJqeAuaJ9zweE6YQXQ0sAEIbDr618/s640/IMG_2389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidAI4wx-ciXuTLQjpVuTTRRWCcDyALGROSLn6xYFjWmU_F3tsADu-gCH_3HiCtnjvS_IVxF804fb6TJ5lJEyg8dMHdVZjnss8x0ae7PDWJbYQc0YEhXHFt20pXOvMTfwtYvGnfcXeltc2Av-sr5-iEs7qOHyoeEL_mJqeAuaJ9zweE6YQXQ0sAEIbDr618/s320/IMG_2389.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Look carefully, there's a crab.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikyf0u_W55iXdfbPylxUX2C_P03wjrpVGa3K51OMrGMNLY7FnN4T1TXm4TKYdMHDeemvVr_dG40GyAwJkwwhz03JsGKoYw_VW9iNHsyN5DLM1f_wk10-XqHiyvZUTeJ8rvAarna5eboOuITd19MD5q8XyrhIdfHmJ-DXyTZzCCKTSNasPmwWh0Tz_Ga8cl/s640/IMG_2390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikyf0u_W55iXdfbPylxUX2C_P03wjrpVGa3K51OMrGMNLY7FnN4T1TXm4TKYdMHDeemvVr_dG40GyAwJkwwhz03JsGKoYw_VW9iNHsyN5DLM1f_wk10-XqHiyvZUTeJ8rvAarna5eboOuITd19MD5q8XyrhIdfHmJ-DXyTZzCCKTSNasPmwWh0Tz_Ga8cl/s320/IMG_2390.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1Hbm6cr-5-XngEx8zRCYW5qxrQZ7AG4CecO5yu74BNkIFV3ZEL-kO7HQy6JqUVZmqXuHjG3XJ5aB5Rcr_HyiOJSWb-dHxTU3PwPGxoC2TYNOXJ1Xg16S-UI4fqxCUVFVlfBwBS-YfrrYv8DtBRcf7DKUGXPbjvLGcDs5sRFyW6dE_UiwvYp-DkxVb4tS/s640/IMG_2392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1Hbm6cr-5-XngEx8zRCYW5qxrQZ7AG4CecO5yu74BNkIFV3ZEL-kO7HQy6JqUVZmqXuHjG3XJ5aB5Rcr_HyiOJSWb-dHxTU3PwPGxoC2TYNOXJ1Xg16S-UI4fqxCUVFVlfBwBS-YfrrYv8DtBRcf7DKUGXPbjvLGcDs5sRFyW6dE_UiwvYp-DkxVb4tS/s320/IMG_2392.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmZNQkCNBrYmOjM4ZRpnaXoHaK6suq3Yj4aQTGv3WU6Klayhi9biMoJrCKjBWBURbg7s94pH4YW4wOVJfM9fzodvhXz4jxR3PtW5eoDWnCr6JJqvz2F2gx1EZJVuCGuuPWc7OCWrBZvIrLiyNM5X-bKBIQpj1PvNW2HYgmMTh0qmy_LfR8mwJsHs-JUEF/s640/IMG_2395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmZNQkCNBrYmOjM4ZRpnaXoHaK6suq3Yj4aQTGv3WU6Klayhi9biMoJrCKjBWBURbg7s94pH4YW4wOVJfM9fzodvhXz4jxR3PtW5eoDWnCr6JJqvz2F2gx1EZJVuCGuuPWc7OCWrBZvIrLiyNM5X-bKBIQpj1PvNW2HYgmMTh0qmy_LfR8mwJsHs-JUEF/s320/IMG_2395.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The girls enjoy more freedom now that they are older and so do we. They are not so hard to keep alive at the beach now, and we often can let them go and explore while we just sit and rest. <p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqNu0hVfu6z2jg38R6erixEortFu4tSjXOPAA3iwzykvfA2VqbkMhelcirCd-FGaECIg3517nqmX7MQ6ZWJ1gdkXvcSYRgXx4uyG-gyWUxk7r2Byx2tRKW4N593wFGpqQ4hbKMYElQ9OUQlgqFUYPtldhUTjpGzy-UOnXSGbuADCRDxKQl8iZQX2VzqN6p/s640/IMG_2396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqNu0hVfu6z2jg38R6erixEortFu4tSjXOPAA3iwzykvfA2VqbkMhelcirCd-FGaECIg3517nqmX7MQ6ZWJ1gdkXvcSYRgXx4uyG-gyWUxk7r2Byx2tRKW4N593wFGpqQ4hbKMYElQ9OUQlgqFUYPtldhUTjpGzy-UOnXSGbuADCRDxKQl8iZQX2VzqN6p/s320/IMG_2396.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>We've taken this same picture of the girls at the top of the stairs for many years.<p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXX95JJi3pp7J7sLrBcNL_ANDxCr3m4lT-A5AbLcdROaWiGmIyXjRRjGtIYQT0auwMG5Fyo1NsStzBn1WKxnsXpZjVzcF4Zd37D4ny1pgrHLqR_GbFgj5_LpbHKFh_PPoec4eEF6OQ1sMUxrHpTj6ywiXL6Oll_PtmrVyycSBk_3T8-KnBdUGg3CU6fxHG/s640/IMG_2397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="640" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXX95JJi3pp7J7sLrBcNL_ANDxCr3m4lT-A5AbLcdROaWiGmIyXjRRjGtIYQT0auwMG5Fyo1NsStzBn1WKxnsXpZjVzcF4Zd37D4ny1pgrHLqR_GbFgj5_LpbHKFh_PPoec4eEF6OQ1sMUxrHpTj6ywiXL6Oll_PtmrVyycSBk_3T8-KnBdUGg3CU6fxHG/s320/IMG_2397.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We're collecting shells (and rocks and coral, etc.) and playing cards with Grandma and playing pool (badly) with each other. On the trip, Adele has learned to shuffle under Grandma's faithful and patient guidance. <p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC7CBVmS-kFndHNhRxKjAxbaDTKBPhAT9n1mA0k1noJLA20Nrud697pJ3gPmxYMUQuJS3m8Kl_a8slNoPtDiUsSFDznQ8haT7AQkcWoU2oac5bSbZ972sBw_BwgRkyZ8dR6EqDeodCGuiaZ-Ztj4rzkYnibqJJ6NFbzwbRsxMsOvabmcgLM-o9eHbTQKHw/s640/IMG_2400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC7CBVmS-kFndHNhRxKjAxbaDTKBPhAT9n1mA0k1noJLA20Nrud697pJ3gPmxYMUQuJS3m8Kl_a8slNoPtDiUsSFDznQ8haT7AQkcWoU2oac5bSbZ972sBw_BwgRkyZ8dR6EqDeodCGuiaZ-Ztj4rzkYnibqJJ6NFbzwbRsxMsOvabmcgLM-o9eHbTQKHw/s320/IMG_2400.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>It's remarkable what we find. But I've come understand there are three rules to finding outstanding seashells. #1. You must be on the beach. #2. You must be attentive. #3. You must trouble yourself to stop, bend over, and pick them up. It is no more complicated than this. <p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKoe35mqohgCJUGpLmAuLLbXO94rDyjLww1jhcXByOMFKJPmxFnRMW-NneNK4NjgVbz_dMEsmcndtK5gXwecy4HAUjHaGA9CpU5FWt06c3t2hU288Lvf6dBuBeeqeLEvSgGNxUcKOH5ghza0leg5ZAFBUjIH0F_45oYwnCHsi7pS-igW-afnQduHtE6BRU/s640/IMG_2401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKoe35mqohgCJUGpLmAuLLbXO94rDyjLww1jhcXByOMFKJPmxFnRMW-NneNK4NjgVbz_dMEsmcndtK5gXwecy4HAUjHaGA9CpU5FWt06c3t2hU288Lvf6dBuBeeqeLEvSgGNxUcKOH5ghza0leg5ZAFBUjIH0F_45oYwnCHsi7pS-igW-afnQduHtE6BRU/s320/IMG_2401.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Even as we are better at being available to find some of the most glorious shells, we are also starting to collect the gnarly, beautiful things, too, because even the broken things, they are, nevertheless, so very beautiful. I love to sort the shells and study their colors and shapes. Glory be to God for dappled things. <p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6mdNuf-_v-b5nCJ4gHcpm0qjP1uD1kU1qAeBxdZABhyphenhyphenlpmqhVW0uwxI9X3u_VVl-SmsDCBFV9sVTt1hDW-bJKh8sD6wnYAYvNMJQy0Bshyphenhypheno_o-PwF-AIei6kI_a0YrhUqHq9Gsbw8bc07N1EJGvEqBS_Srs7vBTkVHxMOswpDsKeirer9YldYxI4njpJ/s640/IMG_2402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6mdNuf-_v-b5nCJ4gHcpm0qjP1uD1kU1qAeBxdZABhyphenhyphenlpmqhVW0uwxI9X3u_VVl-SmsDCBFV9sVTt1hDW-bJKh8sD6wnYAYvNMJQy0Bshyphenhypheno_o-PwF-AIei6kI_a0YrhUqHq9Gsbw8bc07N1EJGvEqBS_Srs7vBTkVHxMOswpDsKeirer9YldYxI4njpJ/s320/IMG_2402.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8uOXZsyH8f_Wo0O9UI5nbrFqMkDBnjGx6VzZZHTl-DKXwqoxNxfRwlJsD44yNJH3EFLleLLjwrxFmK5XTzAjYSPaRqojKFJw8XjHtlCjI9RqYPcaYk9CeU3_1sK6QVN3-RqFwqqaV9uRpNNeQ__VegIQar0K9kIB56GUWb5Mue4N0pjQFIF6ATNddG5e6/s640/IMG_2403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8uOXZsyH8f_Wo0O9UI5nbrFqMkDBnjGx6VzZZHTl-DKXwqoxNxfRwlJsD44yNJH3EFLleLLjwrxFmK5XTzAjYSPaRqojKFJw8XjHtlCjI9RqYPcaYk9CeU3_1sK6QVN3-RqFwqqaV9uRpNNeQ__VegIQar0K9kIB56GUWb5Mue4N0pjQFIF6ATNddG5e6/s320/IMG_2403.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>We're enjoying hours of quiet together as we often do when we are here. The ceiling fan clicks just like a clock, and we're all getting a lot of reading done. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeTgaDG5bEh1zw7zuB7NP5ottXfy5tJe-1Ofr81aKapE6XI0CfnCWkJcjoZni1bFFO6r04DgNNKEsbQsTbFwX-hA97ci_YR4FsWGndZZCBvOwre9VBhXRQuSHuwrONRfcFGsgbsm3x-WQozRTlE66JXiHUYAvV8EW8kwt0S1uFKc33VwX1lpAIFSLEC-8E" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeTgaDG5bEh1zw7zuB7NP5ottXfy5tJe-1Ofr81aKapE6XI0CfnCWkJcjoZni1bFFO6r04DgNNKEsbQsTbFwX-hA97ci_YR4FsWGndZZCBvOwre9VBhXRQuSHuwrONRfcFGsgbsm3x-WQozRTlE66JXiHUYAvV8EW8kwt0S1uFKc33VwX1lpAIFSLEC-8E=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div><br />I found this book at the thrift store here. <p></p><p>It's such a fitting read for this visit as we take the time to be in the same place as Grandma. </p><p>More than anything, Wendell Berry teaches me to be content and happy with being myself. </p><p>I'm just one particular creature relating to all the other particular creatures God has made me in relationship to. </p><p>I'm a dappled thing, strange and spare, and so are you, and praise God for dappled things. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNY6My50l8CTEt3w0slIZRw-F0q0i9GQQFkIpzZFqey28fgb3wV7s_b95gwOVJYjOckFKG1zI1uBOBo4xvzBbp6Inbevz11Gbsvz45hcKeOvQc_JH1vdOK8OeKvb8v0vLwoTZGwDHikZbMoV7cY_BW_AGM67RwfrGBhmCl9ZNxT1QweAFgQUdVGLgfQXfT/s640/IMG_2404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNY6My50l8CTEt3w0slIZRw-F0q0i9GQQFkIpzZFqey28fgb3wV7s_b95gwOVJYjOckFKG1zI1uBOBo4xvzBbp6Inbevz11Gbsvz45hcKeOvQc_JH1vdOK8OeKvb8v0vLwoTZGwDHikZbMoV7cY_BW_AGM67RwfrGBhmCl9ZNxT1QweAFgQUdVGLgfQXfT/s320/IMG_2404.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-68633043187602579652024-02-06T17:00:00.018-05:002024-02-19T11:59:30.111-05:00Avril's Hobbit Recitation<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUW5lFy-SENZqFLxOc_MR5aECuPbmv6D6mYKqgvHYgMARu8mDQFPpqt5BetK3zfWGcZw7e6UiiaslR56B_21UPOZh_9-zV18NZasJtPXJuw8M9ZL6XRtVaC_ZiQ1usqQRiVbEfxL8Mgf2krqdyBUao1YehkIeNlsKgDfqpjulROsJaDSMpb5ttU-xz8cuv/s640/IMG_2477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUW5lFy-SENZqFLxOc_MR5aECuPbmv6D6mYKqgvHYgMARu8mDQFPpqt5BetK3zfWGcZw7e6UiiaslR56B_21UPOZh_9-zV18NZasJtPXJuw8M9ZL6XRtVaC_ZiQ1usqQRiVbEfxL8Mgf2krqdyBUao1YehkIeNlsKgDfqpjulROsJaDSMpb5ttU-xz8cuv/w400-h300/IMG_2477.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Avril memorized the first portion of The Hobbit from "In a hole in the ground..." until Bilbo shuts the door on Gandalf as quickly as he can without being rude, "because wizards are, after all, are wizards." To go with this recitation, we made a visual from fabric. It now hangs in my hallway as a lovely keepsake. <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-45923894276223110412024-01-27T17:40:00.206-05:002024-02-13T13:38:03.868-05:00The End of a Classical Christian Education <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7ldKPRUmzohjFWu1YMrRNpmMM46VyJiEs18cyTx0YCPLvkRIyK_oBHxzThXn333Yl0XnDuNtTO6btJoLDcOhxVm_5KBaoVzgtjpw2_3-QDVu3u5IklVpl70MBtXy0tSp2Rkb7Sr7UweRh0E0rnBkS5D6dziuyxGgMl8lEdiC5SIB00wMBHntBrX1oxfg/s344/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="146" data-original-width="344" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7ldKPRUmzohjFWu1YMrRNpmMM46VyJiEs18cyTx0YCPLvkRIyK_oBHxzThXn333Yl0XnDuNtTO6btJoLDcOhxVm_5KBaoVzgtjpw2_3-QDVu3u5IklVpl70MBtXy0tSp2Rkb7Sr7UweRh0E0rnBkS5D6dziuyxGgMl8lEdiC5SIB00wMBHntBrX1oxfg/s320/Unknown.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Exhilarated at the journey I was on, I ran along the path. <p></p><p>I started out across a dry, empty riverbed to reach the place where the path picked up again on the other side. </p><p>As I stepped out, a train flew by and nearly ran me over. </p><p>It blared its horn in rage like it was angry that it had missed me. </p><p>I was blown back, so I just stood there, shuddering for a moment at how close I'd come to being mown down. </p><p>But I recovered remarkably fast. </p><p>I was more than eager to keep moving on, filled with joy, excitement, and sheerest delight. </p><p>I watched till the train was out of sight, and more cautiously this time, stepped quickly across the riverbed before another train could come. </p><p>"Why a train?" I remembering thinking. </p><p>I was aware that I was dreaming as I am often am in dreams, but I was also thinking, "Wow! What a dream! I hope this one never ends!" </p><p>These pictures and sensations remain with me now clearer than most memories including my marriage ceremony or the births of my three children. </p><p>What does a loving wife and mother do with that?</p><p>I trust God that He knows and is gracious. </p><p>And if He's the dream-giver, His work is bound to make its mark upon one's consciousness. </p><p>His dreams are more real than any lived experience. </p><p>Perhaps dreams are part of lived experience. </p><p>Anyway, it came to me years later that the train represents Modernity, and all its ways of doing things including giving a person an education. </p><p>I still shudder at how close I came to missing this education. </p><p>Joy! </p><p>Delight! </p><p>I took it all in as I walking the path again, now running, now climbing, now clawing my way up an ever-steepening path, but jewels were literally falling into my hands as I went further up. </p><p>These jewels were breathtaking.</p><p>Each one was precious and beautiful in its own way. </p><p>Each magnified the Light as I turned them in my fingers, and I could have beheld each one for ages without growing bored. </p><p>But I couldn't wait to get on, so I gathered them all and hurried forward, onward, upward, giddy with delight. </p><p>The path led to the base of a mountain, and I took to climbing it with ease and interest. </p><p>I was surprised at myself as a climbed, but also surprised at how real it all felt, because my muscles were fit for the task, though they began to actually burn and eventually groan with exertion. </p><p>I was breathing heavily and finally, really slowing near the summit, laboring with all my might to get to go on. </p><p>Near the top, the shale-like rocks were loose and began shifting and sliding under my hands and feet, and I grew more and more fatigued and hot and thirsty, and it was altogether harder to keep hold.</p><p>Just as I reached the edge of the summit, the rocks shifted in such a way that I almost fell off the mountain altogether. </p><p>I caught hold, but I couldn't move or else I would slip and fall beyond recovery, so I held as tight and still as possible so as not to shift the rocks I was clinging to. </p><p>That's when Satan appeared, a pale, grey, skinny man in gray shirt and trousers. </p><p>He perched lightly, carelessly on the edge right before me, his body language communicating total and complete ease, seeming to flaunt the fact that he was secure while I was losing grip and tempted to real panic. </p><p>That's when I saw the chalice filled with cool, clear water just out of my reach.</p><p>I still wonder if Satan pointed out the chalice as a torment to me. </p><p>Or was it the Spirit guiding me up the mountain who prompted me to finally behold my prize? </p><p>Maybe it is both at once. </p><p>That interpretation seems most likely to me now, since moments of suffering and temptation are so often combined with moments of spiritual victory. </p><p>My thirst cried out for me to take a drink of that chalice. </p><p>I knew the cup was the fitting reward for my journey, but I also knew it was totally out of my reach. </p><p>My fingers were shaking, gripping on for dear life at this point. </p><p>"If you let go, you will fall," Satan told me. </p><p>This wasn't a taunt or a temptation. </p><p>It was more like a simple statement of fact. </p><p>There was no way for me to shift to hold on and also take hold of the chalice without falling. </p><p>I considered my dilemma. </p><p>I withdrew from the dream and weighed facts. </p><p>Magnificent as this dream was, I knew it was a dream and everything in it, including the mountain was just a symbol signifying something absolutely real and outside the dream. </p><p>I knew that there was God and He loved me. </p><p>He was the One who had prompted the dream, the One delighted to see me so delighted in this symbolic world He had made for me. </p><p>So I grew bold and the dream came back in focus. </p><p>I was filled with a white hot, holy wrath and also a cool, joyful mirth. </p><p>"This mountain was made for me," I declared. </p><p>Then I smiled and laughed. </p><p>My fear disappeared, and my soul did something that my mind and heart still look back on in awe and wonder. </p><p>I let go. </p><p>And I fell. </p><p>But somehow, I also grabbed the chalice and drank deeply even as I was plummeting backwards and down. </p><p>As I swallowed that lovely draught of cool, sweet water, two things happened at once. </p><p>I saw Satan's face. </p><p>And he was shocked. </p><p>That was right before he disappeared. </p><p>That is still a satisfying memory even if it only ever actually happened inside my imagination. </p><p>I was also immediately caught by four arms of two angels, one on each side of me. </p><p>"What an awesome dream!" I remember thinking. </p><p>The angels flew me forward, somewhat roughly and awkwardly, and pushed me into the side of the mountain until I could get a solid hold again. </p><p>As I caught my breath, I realized the angels were gone, and I was alone looking out over the top of what I now know was Parnassus. </p><p>The word "Parnassus" came clearly into my mind a few days after this dream when I was praying to understand what it had meant. </p><p>I didn't consciously recall knowing that name before that day, but I am sure I must have read it somewhere before the dream.</p><p>I came to understand that Parnassus is a symbol for a Classical education, and the home of Muses in ancient mythology. </p><p>But in my dream, the top of Parnassus was empty, flat, barren.</p><p>It started raining as I held on there. </p><p>I was getting drenched to the bone and chilly. </p><p>The severe barrenness of that mountaintop was a judgement and a warning to my soul. </p><p>That image has remained with me as I have walked this path towards a Classical education.</p><p>And even as I have whole-heartedly thrown myself into this journey, knowing God was leading, I've held something sacred back, knowing that barren mountain top was not be the end. </p><p>So I look around, and I took in all the lessons. </p><p>The path only goes so far. </p><p>Before I was allowed to wake up, my attention was drawn into the distance, far below the mountain top.</p><p>I saw something like a hobbit house, a simple, humble home.</p><p>Warm light was spilling out from around the round door and windows. </p><p>I could see smoke from a fire in the hearth rising into the night sky, and I could hear laugher and conversation and the tinkling of glasses and plates. </p><p>All at once, I knew that inside that home sat a circle of friends who lacked no good thing. </p><p>Somehow, I knew that everything I had expected to find at the top of that glorious mountain was to be found around a table with Christian friends. </p><p>I resolved to get down from there and go find that dwelling and knock and ask to be let in. </p><p>It seemed that the Holy Spirit was satisfied that I had taken proper notes, so that is when I woke up and that was years and years ago now. </p><p>I had this dream when I started the Circe Apprenticeship several years ago. </p><p>And I took it then as I am certain it was meant then: God's was promising to give me an exhilarating Classical education.</p><p>But now, as I leave Classical Conversations after twelve years, meditation on this dream is a comfort and a confirmation, too. </p><p>I am letting go of something that I have striven upon and built myself up upon and held on to for many years. </p><p>But I will be caught.</p><p>Last evening, by an almost unbelievable-unless-I-had-lived-it-for-myself timing of Providence, our home was filled-to-bursting with friends from our homeschool communities and our church. </p><p>We shared food, drink, and rich, Spirit-filled conversation over the Word late into a cool, damp night. </p><p>So now, I'll give you the final interpretation as it came to me last night as I was saying goodbye to our last guest. </p><p>Now that Christ is risen and the Spirit of God dwells inside human beings, there is no place on earth higher or better or more enlightening or inspiring than wherever Christians happen to gather together. </p><p>Parnassus is wherever the Word of Christ and the Spirit of Christ meet, and the truest end of a Classical education is a table Christian friends conversing over the Word. </p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-9505142196190636522024-01-24T12:36:00.005-05:002024-01-24T12:36:55.365-05:00The Bridge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-8xrVicJ4jE" width="320" youtube-src-id="-8xrVicJ4jE"></iframe></div><br /><p>In seasons of change, or trial, or grief, a new song always seems to arrive, and just in time. </p><p>I consider this marvelous evidence that God is closer than a heartbeat. </p><p>Then the song goes on repeat. </p><p>The lyrics become the message that I preach to my soul. </p><p>And the new song becomes that new song that I sing to the Lord from the midst of the situation I am walking through. </p><p>Sometimes, it's not even me that is singing; It's the Holy Spirit singing through me for me. </p><p>Taylor Leonhardt seems to have a beautiful melancholy lament for everything, and she is providing the soundtrack for my life right now. </p><p>This is one beautiful song about drawing some healthier boundaries, something that resonates with me in this season.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-66612146302733510202024-01-01T17:39:00.001-05:002024-01-01T17:39:15.908-05:00New Year's Hike in Huntington <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCN6hpMsbOyzJozpINcrnaulT6ed6gXwCyvdMGsX9JmMygiMN2ZiCw62EyjxdfZnr6kLNV18DtAGxoiCck39Z4XLHpFyBWz6f6DVB8JLSCznc7IMNS_QMOJCWP8jKbKxnLZvLKJz2l83Fc-Aptg_ad3KBjuEOTSWgR6zpxLNmHzGfJOZJWzaw1r_q1wwe2" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCN6hpMsbOyzJozpINcrnaulT6ed6gXwCyvdMGsX9JmMygiMN2ZiCw62EyjxdfZnr6kLNV18DtAGxoiCck39Z4XLHpFyBWz6f6DVB8JLSCznc7IMNS_QMOJCWP8jKbKxnLZvLKJz2l83Fc-Aptg_ad3KBjuEOTSWgR6zpxLNmHzGfJOZJWzaw1r_q1wwe2=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br />We went for a two-hours-long hike in nearby Huntington State Park. This clump of turkey tails took my breath away. There's every shade of brown, white, and grey with lines of blues, greens, and even pinks. <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-4520503402670414862023-12-30T23:00:00.066-05:002024-01-01T20:01:27.901-05:00Hadestown with Norah<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIw3mVJEAwGPCLKALkBNzG1QwQwgJmxi-7p-lK62Y-21vwVPDWkzjGLIL5F0jHz2Su0e4GHLTI4G-fN5hoBeBVLqRw5DV192vzFIcIxKBo7G90AcDZmgl0AD1oGw3vkeomDvtn0GdWG1L7igo9rQmrWYvRWlSjGOaaaDNiD5S4l82N9qyhZkJR62h0SxzJ/s4032/IMG_5017.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIw3mVJEAwGPCLKALkBNzG1QwQwgJmxi-7p-lK62Y-21vwVPDWkzjGLIL5F0jHz2Su0e4GHLTI4G-fN5hoBeBVLqRw5DV192vzFIcIxKBo7G90AcDZmgl0AD1oGw3vkeomDvtn0GdWG1L7igo9rQmrWYvRWlSjGOaaaDNiD5S4l82N9qyhZkJR62h0SxzJ/s320/IMG_5017.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vwzz4oxFjpxNuHopUBXcbjANUsCooUmwS1ZCWRQVu2odeMiJDbXW_aQ6v_5JzpnM710OqunbwkSYg8vETS6NYAgNM4SVHARcjU39FSI4ASVuUcottG-EKudvcn7W5l7EX7zOJbXeF5YkPvdHmCZEVxpcMY8CkTM_jWeyx6CKuI1woJon5sjoEf_zPVU5/s3088/IMG_5008.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vwzz4oxFjpxNuHopUBXcbjANUsCooUmwS1ZCWRQVu2odeMiJDbXW_aQ6v_5JzpnM710OqunbwkSYg8vETS6NYAgNM4SVHARcjU39FSI4ASVuUcottG-EKudvcn7W5l7EX7zOJbXeF5YkPvdHmCZEVxpcMY8CkTM_jWeyx6CKuI1woJon5sjoEf_zPVU5/s320/IMG_5008.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFERi0Hewax5L1HCQMi8kGELtc6kbFFjksgEMlUFkOD1jTT26yWjtiRLiZxOexCLChlPV4K42bvIVu89LmoYYzm2TVQsGFI7ZCaVUmGsXovi3tiNsOXl64BH3MBOo1LNLQhTLpWD0X8Is4FdiZuqqAnfbzqdPoNLLyT3lBT9LoA7-45gokbYSI_u6t1qry/s4032/IMG_5009.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFERi0Hewax5L1HCQMi8kGELtc6kbFFjksgEMlUFkOD1jTT26yWjtiRLiZxOexCLChlPV4K42bvIVu89LmoYYzm2TVQsGFI7ZCaVUmGsXovi3tiNsOXl64BH3MBOo1LNLQhTLpWD0X8Is4FdiZuqqAnfbzqdPoNLLyT3lBT9LoA7-45gokbYSI_u6t1qry/s320/IMG_5009.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span> </span>Norah got to see Hadestown last year in Nashville when someone gifted her college tickets to share with all their students. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After that, she insisted I download the album, listen, and that I go see it someday. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I listened to half the album, but left the second half to be a surprise. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I gifted Norah tickets to Hadestown (NYC) this Christmas. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We went together today. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It may be my favorite Broadway musical now, even topping Phantom. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I see Christ in Orpheus. Norah does, too, and it's why she loves this musical so much. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I see Christ in every hero, or perhaps I see every hero by Christ inside me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But the picture of Christ was so clear at times during the show, I wonder how anyone could miss it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I was listening to "Wait For Me!" time seemed to go back thousands of years and forward until the end of time and stand still all at once. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was as if Christ was singing that same song to every soul held captive in Hell before His death and resurrection.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then, as the chorus repeated a second time, if felt more personal, like Christ was promising me that He will do/has done all that is required to perfect my salvation. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But later, as Eurydice begins to sing the chorus with Orpheus and she starts following him out of Hell, I realized I have been, am, and I will be signing that song to Christ for the rest of my life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am following Christ with the same faith Euridice had for her unseen Orpheus. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The difference is that Christ is the Orpheus who won, and Christianity is the myth that came True. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I just marvel at the Greeks and the the little-t trueness of their mythos. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I just marvel at my Christ, who fulfills every nations desire, and loves every soul with a particularity that makes each of us Eurydice. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div> <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-63160908503274821732023-12-26T15:00:00.005-05:002023-12-26T15:27:27.912-05:00Christmas Memories of 2024<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxUfOzVrkAhSqUCGTqwUqap-SFrEW7ov35M04jLIbvCV_J17Xd_CUrHMj2KREfDTHsMUhvT4lIpPD01JHtcalvGJSeufvSak-46OmCGv2HoTs1RiAwjzbXCmascloXIz2NOkuC2N6z8FzMwwKIITV4giqd_gIlyqdtd36wACEZS7ji60nwnVBJElkvxOs/s640/IMG_7456.jpg.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxUfOzVrkAhSqUCGTqwUqap-SFrEW7ov35M04jLIbvCV_J17Xd_CUrHMj2KREfDTHsMUhvT4lIpPD01JHtcalvGJSeufvSak-46OmCGv2HoTs1RiAwjzbXCmascloXIz2NOkuC2N6z8FzMwwKIITV4giqd_gIlyqdtd36wACEZS7ji60nwnVBJElkvxOs/s320/IMG_7456.jpg.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We attended a Christmas breakfast at the start of December with a big group of friends, moms and daughters, and our beloved friend/ adopted grandmother, Ms. Beverlie </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLh4PDIBnOanomyAYlfinTdb8tB9XRtZehYH0v__G5VO4ht1o5j_pdQ6aw4rMGS0xb9AopTzf48hFvGEbIOy4yEY7iGFevHVoGLsJUJiFlYASZc3qMYSL_KJwIn1tXzsgBdFKQwz8HgRAKVEEfM95FmusMrUxB79OZu6qy1sTdu6mrX6S4IJlRH_2kQnoE/s675/FY24-Main-Artwork-for-Web_ACC-475x675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="475" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLh4PDIBnOanomyAYlfinTdb8tB9XRtZehYH0v__G5VO4ht1o5j_pdQ6aw4rMGS0xb9AopTzf48hFvGEbIOy4yEY7iGFevHVoGLsJUJiFlYASZc3qMYSL_KJwIn1tXzsgBdFKQwz8HgRAKVEEfM95FmusMrUxB79OZu6qy1sTdu6mrX6S4IJlRH_2kQnoE/s320/FY24-Main-Artwork-for-Web_ACC-475x675.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We attended A Christmas Carol at The Hartford Stage with homeschool friends mid-December. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQan6doOUbntyL2je_TF2X_kVrqBV-RpyOv_C_E7DEap7yFTXegvt7SH7kW-fCyix7UzVzkrk87AYys7sc_STULhqicfzB4Xbx9Y53TrUJzzXdnh3Yuo5qyRfl72crxQHIen89fgFSx9w5ZThyvtcC6y_8U66qinUmnlmiR2p9ueEggVPgRw1pj3tGElW/s640/IMG_2082.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQan6doOUbntyL2je_TF2X_kVrqBV-RpyOv_C_E7DEap7yFTXegvt7SH7kW-fCyix7UzVzkrk87AYys7sc_STULhqicfzB4Xbx9Y53TrUJzzXdnh3Yuo5qyRfl72crxQHIen89fgFSx9w5ZThyvtcC6y_8U66qinUmnlmiR2p9ueEggVPgRw1pj3tGElW/s320/IMG_2082.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Norah, home from college! We greeted her with embarrassing noise at the airport. </div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM30GbkWcXvQhBr2NPOX1ErNMLOsNE1OWr72sZdkCqLw59m-ya2KoqN-mVKSWaFiseAVaK74tKq3dFMfz6WeAB8lzPNli_lQS12xxqE3dzVkUN4rZP497aUGilQBMXABGeoWZO7XSMDZc1oVVZN_QbR8B2bXcPzFFnryx19TlBHgD_EYrYM2A5NSVVC7BB/s640/IMG_2095.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM30GbkWcXvQhBr2NPOX1ErNMLOsNE1OWr72sZdkCqLw59m-ya2KoqN-mVKSWaFiseAVaK74tKq3dFMfz6WeAB8lzPNli_lQS12xxqE3dzVkUN4rZP497aUGilQBMXABGeoWZO7XSMDZc1oVVZN_QbR8B2bXcPzFFnryx19TlBHgD_EYrYM2A5NSVVC7BB/s320/IMG_2095.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>Norah and Dwayne both work at Preferred, so we all attended the company Christmas party together this year. </p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyFpVvpdoqx1fIqSZdn9NtveA9x7oqinP4wrSus0npqwyhtnNdjKFKIoCRTRuwOTA6xlawU6_HrHCrnm3NLeo9ftikoHYHkRFXFQ-2EVVyM9YjBuCGjjoskxNgUxoKtZwMB5fY6kvsLD-XUfPeXWW1PTXG5iT63RuYff6XPPksbVKQiFcCnjyAvZ6K8Zw/s726/christmasconcertslide-hm-a-800x800___23213800693.jpg.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="726" data-original-width="726" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyFpVvpdoqx1fIqSZdn9NtveA9x7oqinP4wrSus0npqwyhtnNdjKFKIoCRTRuwOTA6xlawU6_HrHCrnm3NLeo9ftikoHYHkRFXFQ-2EVVyM9YjBuCGjjoskxNgUxoKtZwMB5fY6kvsLD-XUfPeXWW1PTXG5iT63RuYff6XPPksbVKQiFcCnjyAvZ6K8Zw/s320/christmasconcertslide-hm-a-800x800___23213800693.jpg.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our family attended Handel's Messiah at our church, and we brought our friend, Ms. Beverlie, as our guest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmc2NI93P_8-QohJH4Vvn8Nv3VrarNMnWE7DPR0PRVJfOKHYu0y8hM-xYonFBHGIQYAK95Wm9WUuEPuTO_kUa1JR-_hKKtWyBBV2eW10_YvlbqrKWcVbG7kLBIloWsYX8tzwzBNfiPVV4-XOTB6nxq_oPZvO-798D6zXq4gMkD-69lCVsiNuwzamKxC-Ye/s640/IMG_2100.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmc2NI93P_8-QohJH4Vvn8Nv3VrarNMnWE7DPR0PRVJfOKHYu0y8hM-xYonFBHGIQYAK95Wm9WUuEPuTO_kUa1JR-_hKKtWyBBV2eW10_YvlbqrKWcVbG7kLBIloWsYX8tzwzBNfiPVV4-XOTB6nxq_oPZvO-798D6zXq4gMkD-69lCVsiNuwzamKxC-Ye/s320/IMG_2100.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>Adele is painting various winter-themed watercolors in her free time this Christmas break. </p><p>Avril is crocheting various projects including this angel for me. </p><p>We have a strict, rigorous routine during the weeks of homeschool that there are only a few hours in the day or read and create freely. So the girls respond to days and days of vacation with abundant creativity! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA0Xhgf3fnyTY7hnTw2qBn3f7y6v7g5ybnhanHDpgfG2-1aQseH_I9IlL5NWBwY7B5AhvuDcJrP1cf8-E97ju23W-JjYhqjd8zWvtGCyErxnivs55uxSl082uM9Bm9x3ITs0PgnkAzbJlZ17vj_hsZP8m_LaIojZTnZBvz5AGQhilL-h8_PJFIXJ4vVR48/s640/IMG_2102.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA0Xhgf3fnyTY7hnTw2qBn3f7y6v7g5ybnhanHDpgfG2-1aQseH_I9IlL5NWBwY7B5AhvuDcJrP1cf8-E97ju23W-JjYhqjd8zWvtGCyErxnivs55uxSl082uM9Bm9x3ITs0PgnkAzbJlZ17vj_hsZP8m_LaIojZTnZBvz5AGQhilL-h8_PJFIXJ4vVR48/s320/IMG_2102.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The living room on Christmas Eve </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHRlB48ql5L-ADLE2Qhh54rKWrJRIDZW9MFmNRcbe2stlwkzjwTWBzB_A2Ah6hR0E5rucSZ0RlPJY_8Igh9MEfq_A8deIEKD1dPuy0dL6dVhdEnT7joIdiho2R48CNO-mzI3-ZJGJ_judqaJipQ3Q_fKVt5si7mlYmxjWRUlHVLwiD2i6xDuj8ZYCrrmZ/s640/IMG_2106.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHRlB48ql5L-ADLE2Qhh54rKWrJRIDZW9MFmNRcbe2stlwkzjwTWBzB_A2Ah6hR0E5rucSZ0RlPJY_8Igh9MEfq_A8deIEKD1dPuy0dL6dVhdEnT7joIdiho2R48CNO-mzI3-ZJGJ_judqaJipQ3Q_fKVt5si7mlYmxjWRUlHVLwiD2i6xDuj8ZYCrrmZ/s320/IMG_2106.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfTS2ep_cIo1sXkLSrgzO_j9T2wJRlGrBearZlFUuuP1F6Bo7TT9FLnL3xfSSpLnUMQ9Abczr1mdlq3CQkJzk1GyaWweatbizOXXrkfhD8prhFZ4NDCSLI1zeCa1ulmQ64HS02XqpDif-1ELHHehuWPJMUscyhkWtoUzEoSyD7-e-B2pnqOdA_mgVDv2r/s640/IMG_2108.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfTS2ep_cIo1sXkLSrgzO_j9T2wJRlGrBearZlFUuuP1F6Bo7TT9FLnL3xfSSpLnUMQ9Abczr1mdlq3CQkJzk1GyaWweatbizOXXrkfhD8prhFZ4NDCSLI1zeCa1ulmQ64HS02XqpDif-1ELHHehuWPJMUscyhkWtoUzEoSyD7-e-B2pnqOdA_mgVDv2r/s320/IMG_2108.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">New pajamas on Christmas Eve after our nightly Advent readings</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLo4UiPXg_-G8O6u3sSX-UDZH2oKcoC1d4RZ2rs9fhcSsV7_OQRMEWteIxnQfT9c5BTo0omd5rKgfdAfebM6tn7hwOfHZTauHRY01u2qB_FI7XOqeao2LxnTU01s1SvucCmSJhmjCqz-iGlCZh_MS-cZj1o_xoTnIt43EKpHM4OmDex_q8wk83duJaBSAc/s640/IMG_2112.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLo4UiPXg_-G8O6u3sSX-UDZH2oKcoC1d4RZ2rs9fhcSsV7_OQRMEWteIxnQfT9c5BTo0omd5rKgfdAfebM6tn7hwOfHZTauHRY01u2qB_FI7XOqeao2LxnTU01s1SvucCmSJhmjCqz-iGlCZh_MS-cZj1o_xoTnIt43EKpHM4OmDex_q8wk83duJaBSAc/s320/IMG_2112.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAkIAT0_cjmp3sEGWQLnryKM4KqpO56wiTRjgqz6p0XupujZQWmf2IJY0fzjcN3O6IdazWRa8k1aRHntcp1IhRFmT9Q_dJFP_L9v_o_eiX6mKerz7lAyK_G5qSfH3qb2L0aGVJet5ye1SdiUiUHugfzfLAklij_Foz9r03LLEqJxGT1AL-8C07H6zHxvE/s640/IMG_2113.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAkIAT0_cjmp3sEGWQLnryKM4KqpO56wiTRjgqz6p0XupujZQWmf2IJY0fzjcN3O6IdazWRa8k1aRHntcp1IhRFmT9Q_dJFP_L9v_o_eiX6mKerz7lAyK_G5qSfH3qb2L0aGVJet5ye1SdiUiUHugfzfLAklij_Foz9r03LLEqJxGT1AL-8C07H6zHxvE/s320/IMG_2113.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The living room on Christmas morning</div><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwrw4frQFDl81UsUzo2GVgwX5gQQ1TfdkBleyzEYvSyunzGhUpf9XUXc_psQzoiU3AIi56xx8RTF1Zj7X_M1S2RR39EaHaH8B1gW7mNJ05jeYRGbXv0JDJHVgmBe56TK8cXtpTd_XQa8Z17oeTGLwWE-1Stl0GcyqEVPB3bIijIt6x7b92qckEK1J2g-ed/s640/IMG_2115.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwrw4frQFDl81UsUzo2GVgwX5gQQ1TfdkBleyzEYvSyunzGhUpf9XUXc_psQzoiU3AIi56xx8RTF1Zj7X_M1S2RR39EaHaH8B1gW7mNJ05jeYRGbXv0JDJHVgmBe56TK8cXtpTd_XQa8Z17oeTGLwWE-1Stl0GcyqEVPB3bIijIt6x7b92qckEK1J2g-ed/s320/IMG_2115.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Avril made this customized crocheted wood elf for Norah in secret. The unmatching socks are a real personal touch. My kids' socks only match the first time they are worn. After that, my kids just wear two socks, regardless of whether or not they match. </div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">Final Advent readings before opening gifts Christmas morning</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWCP7YqQiDxNEHNdF6ht81PUDabMuddQoB5JwpSvF_YUlNGCab8yw9-16G__OaIfD8a20wr9F5jqJ2vWAehkAPPc1ffskiWeV1-7YhFT-LAJXLZIRf66RBad-Cud15lhExKUWwJ8nmv5zSjjxLavN3fpbRs-c2F1_44MHk5wEvLvOZDyEb6dciFwO1jbFI/s640/IMG_2122.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWCP7YqQiDxNEHNdF6ht81PUDabMuddQoB5JwpSvF_YUlNGCab8yw9-16G__OaIfD8a20wr9F5jqJ2vWAehkAPPc1ffskiWeV1-7YhFT-LAJXLZIRf66RBad-Cud15lhExKUWwJ8nmv5zSjjxLavN3fpbRs-c2F1_44MHk5wEvLvOZDyEb6dciFwO1jbFI/s320/IMG_2122.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBuiZu20mVeVuivAIZlGIu5TBd4Ub4IzX_OPwwACAkmVbR8_SVoUth1cOokr-74vqvlvTK3B5C-INwaBdCoegOrMLCsw7YdRpugqb19MRHP06r2-gIIXw29D2_iRRxE-QOPN4aIUC0DEB512WbHpAVyx3G_DtWGP_oE3u7VgHB1tpIIyM_mSf6oxvU9dq/s640/IMG_2128.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBuiZu20mVeVuivAIZlGIu5TBd4Ub4IzX_OPwwACAkmVbR8_SVoUth1cOokr-74vqvlvTK3B5C-INwaBdCoegOrMLCsw7YdRpugqb19MRHP06r2-gIIXw29D2_iRRxE-QOPN4aIUC0DEB512WbHpAVyx3G_DtWGP_oE3u7VgHB1tpIIyM_mSf6oxvU9dq/s320/IMG_2128.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Avril begged for this hideous Ravenclaw plush mellow. I obliged, because it's Christmas. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7KEUM-tbKqay_2yZZA6K8zIt5y8g9wKYcZ3sLCC4pVthWrIGYd7Xh7Fv6p6hEwKUw_uJjZMQ0S18JAk2Hv2unuoHr_wf7Jq6a7a7rj7jz5G6xngsiJN4ztrW51W2YtTZ3P2RVzcAMe_m2Ers76s0iCwK4EAHnCFEhELFCKXIOIcWNQ39RDGVVplK8eqQ/s640/IMG_2138.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7KEUM-tbKqay_2yZZA6K8zIt5y8g9wKYcZ3sLCC4pVthWrIGYd7Xh7Fv6p6hEwKUw_uJjZMQ0S18JAk2Hv2unuoHr_wf7Jq6a7a7rj7jz5G6xngsiJN4ztrW51W2YtTZ3P2RVzcAMe_m2Ers76s0iCwK4EAHnCFEhELFCKXIOIcWNQ39RDGVVplK8eqQ/s320/IMG_2138.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>Adele got a parlor guitar. Avril (and Adele) got a keyboard to practice on, since they are both helping on the worship bands at church. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5vVc9FxuEec1KxXJ2lQbsC5RB6TKYx1PE9ot67aNuBkA6A3j58J32tdPqdZAPRIkfHcP7ygHiYdv9iRsGvctPNsQ6t3Gj29rUp04P_UFM2m3D-Stxc0b-kiLVZ0LqjeyTQ_aB_ac6C9iXC7XX36m1qCIGQTjY1yc2XNN80orfc2SaGu_3xWakviCp-ca/s640/IMG_2139.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5vVc9FxuEec1KxXJ2lQbsC5RB6TKYx1PE9ot67aNuBkA6A3j58J32tdPqdZAPRIkfHcP7ygHiYdv9iRsGvctPNsQ6t3Gj29rUp04P_UFM2m3D-Stxc0b-kiLVZ0LqjeyTQ_aB_ac6C9iXC7XX36m1qCIGQTjY1yc2XNN80orfc2SaGu_3xWakviCp-ca/s320/IMG_2139.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm taking Norah to see Hadestown on Broadway later this week. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I hid the little tickets in a box on the Christmas tree. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-e4SCHbDoMHK_VH0gcyDGYij6Hsrjr7Bs-uKRxiQMHxSt3y7OVpGsfqRSSq6IjkERVQwIkPVCW6Ara6OmQe7gS7uNqN_1AbXelcO8YeuSrA6ObfGDvBcZr1rNv6DxPscJ-Wt0Uxk9b3VJhevNdjZhXCrURJ0Rz4uRFsQH_k72w8bWWMrAmLgR5ICeRBo/s640/IMG_2147.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-e4SCHbDoMHK_VH0gcyDGYij6Hsrjr7Bs-uKRxiQMHxSt3y7OVpGsfqRSSq6IjkERVQwIkPVCW6Ara6OmQe7gS7uNqN_1AbXelcO8YeuSrA6ObfGDvBcZr1rNv6DxPscJ-Wt0Uxk9b3VJhevNdjZhXCrURJ0Rz4uRFsQH_k72w8bWWMrAmLgR5ICeRBo/s320/IMG_2147.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was gifted Seven Wonders with real metal coins. So fun! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2a6k3U2bHsYCk7wiYPuNY7FfyNFge81ek_zBdtxAR0w0xYPUN84aa-7lLVhz0OA9VxMnIhGhlMyy0c4RaRuhfW72A8kmidNalriYOfI5LZCVgG0lqupDZEEJXMLzC6IbelUAs2giMIlwauQSYveHWtNCphASOgITR9C8-8AyWhTL4gEDM94KBdUJm3S1/s640/IMG_2148.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2a6k3U2bHsYCk7wiYPuNY7FfyNFge81ek_zBdtxAR0w0xYPUN84aa-7lLVhz0OA9VxMnIhGhlMyy0c4RaRuhfW72A8kmidNalriYOfI5LZCVgG0lqupDZEEJXMLzC6IbelUAs2giMIlwauQSYveHWtNCphASOgITR9C8-8AyWhTL4gEDM94KBdUJm3S1/s320/IMG_2148.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And another painting on our mantle there, that one painted for us by Ms. Beverlie, who came over for afternoon tea on Christmas Day</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhRxlVFR7Yo0Ke_oQXadY2RZGPkIw6QvZ8Bgs2m6EbkqGbTpjFqk-21ThDEU3bXdv-arR_wHOJedlJWbbZt0KIpaCQ-581n6NgdFQydyBdM2w1UyOUPBJbM7iXQ_RrmKPKJLQpOX3tda6-aWToiZoGnnowMv-ML46cCthWAjV6JzYQ7HK_0lBVHD1ZN2j/s640/IMG_2149.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhRxlVFR7Yo0Ke_oQXadY2RZGPkIw6QvZ8Bgs2m6EbkqGbTpjFqk-21ThDEU3bXdv-arR_wHOJedlJWbbZt0KIpaCQ-581n6NgdFQydyBdM2w1UyOUPBJbM7iXQ_RrmKPKJLQpOX3tda6-aWToiZoGnnowMv-ML46cCthWAjV6JzYQ7HK_0lBVHD1ZN2j/s320/IMG_2149.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><div><span style="text-align: center;">All my kids home, reading or crafting in quiet, restful leisure, or playing new board games or eating leftovers</span><p></p></div><div><br /></div>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-14775632589349542102023-12-24T14:38:00.001-05:002023-12-26T14:46:55.798-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-2cw3nssYN6wG7PdXGjwDDzGFnDRgdv-LEE_-uq_GXC5zYsIY2sDG8io8P-O6SCtnpzyJsir5nGM4pqoeJpHTVEczaPG6vl19E0IVcalWl7HkAx3UvWpUYjFjzsI-nuy8y1i4sgABEx-nXxHiXtaarZjK2v2160Xmi1r6nCxeuPTT_9XluHmwAHXoG0M/s640/IMG_2120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-2cw3nssYN6wG7PdXGjwDDzGFnDRgdv-LEE_-uq_GXC5zYsIY2sDG8io8P-O6SCtnpzyJsir5nGM4pqoeJpHTVEczaPG6vl19E0IVcalWl7HkAx3UvWpUYjFjzsI-nuy8y1i4sgABEx-nXxHiXtaarZjK2v2160Xmi1r6nCxeuPTT_9XluHmwAHXoG0M/s320/IMG_2120.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> "Santa Found Guilty!" the headlines read the day after his trial. Now Santa has to trade his famous red suit for an orange jumpsuit for a few years. Rudolph isn't so fortunate. He's going to prison for life. Public sympathies, easily swayed, are now with the two Christmas culprits. As long as Santa's interned at the North Pole Corrections Center, there will be no, no, no Merry Christmas for anyone. <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-56260850514370114482023-12-23T14:20:00.001-05:002023-12-26T14:38:07.502-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_VktQAyj4wMMecfsIcjoVX1Nxz-3aANgAbRmXdcOBr332wmQmHljMCq486qQC_tnXb7iGHKB9MW9yYVVxnvDEfLIosY1w9VM9cxilrPpoxmAzm0ueDw9a3joIIIq9Gtbh6VfZXtb_14g3z_ajVTqbjBx3WkDts1XQt8cCYYyMhDvPLd1sV_X3DFbDIaz/s640/IMG_2119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_VktQAyj4wMMecfsIcjoVX1Nxz-3aANgAbRmXdcOBr332wmQmHljMCq486qQC_tnXb7iGHKB9MW9yYVVxnvDEfLIosY1w9VM9cxilrPpoxmAzm0ueDw9a3joIIIq9Gtbh6VfZXtb_14g3z_ajVTqbjBx3WkDts1XQt8cCYYyMhDvPLd1sV_X3DFbDIaz/s320/IMG_2119.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">A photo of Grandma clipped from one the many newspaper articles about her death and the trial</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A quote from one of the articles</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Grandma Gamer was an avid snowboarder even into her seventies. Ironically and a bit eerily now, Grandma liked to dress up as Santa, not knowing Santa would be a party to her untimely death one day."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div> <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-20102770166240434422023-12-22T14:04:00.006-05:002023-12-26T14:20:48.074-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvXBA6YPSNM0ZKKycgoUkLrkkmcsmm7dXHto5Iz5wwdZLHqTdZqL3FxFcMHD2Vgv8d78lnj53bVRl17IHw_D8ES-TWJYVKACyv2fAeDEuHyK-l51NFWq-E1BPc6ssy1Xb3PvqnQsrnX34oRKQun___Sq3s4SdUIeQTiR-CrCdMIxPtjMSE8syyuAp1dDw/s640/IMG_2117.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvXBA6YPSNM0ZKKycgoUkLrkkmcsmm7dXHto5Iz5wwdZLHqTdZqL3FxFcMHD2Vgv8d78lnj53bVRl17IHw_D8ES-TWJYVKACyv2fAeDEuHyK-l51NFWq-E1BPc6ssy1Xb3PvqnQsrnX34oRKQun___Sq3s4SdUIeQTiR-CrCdMIxPtjMSE8syyuAp1dDw/s320/IMG_2117.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPlIoy5QN9XmoOGjdMjSq2Cl62xZ0db01yLWqj7mLCw7xqlwDaC-SK3EDfeCrvuFiYWh66Yf0Z6ndl_O10z6IROU79tIUCRAweQ_x3J5nKT_hDhBGTE4SlSWGjLyixMxd86SAMYaZo7ZeQCdSiXAX827YMsCD0N2_W35XxNAw2eY2ZG87DP5zXW5Xbh4T/s640/IMG_2118.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPlIoy5QN9XmoOGjdMjSq2Cl62xZ0db01yLWqj7mLCw7xqlwDaC-SK3EDfeCrvuFiYWh66Yf0Z6ndl_O10z6IROU79tIUCRAweQ_x3J5nKT_hDhBGTE4SlSWGjLyixMxd86SAMYaZo7ZeQCdSiXAX827YMsCD0N2_W35XxNAw2eY2ZG87DP5zXW5Xbh4T/s320/IMG_2118.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Christmas celebrations continued uninterrupted even though Santa was in the slammer. As usual, parents bought all the presents, but for once, they got all the credit and thanks. People made and shared feasts as always. It was almost as if Christmas was never about Santa, and his presence had never been required to make Christmases merry and bright. <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-77539839923618436002023-12-19T12:40:00.001-05:002023-12-26T13:05:49.672-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUWOhPgseobd1vBGhtwl8EbMdAiQ6djiAAZo50gmjNtpDO2JRbgSSao1cqu69fQmxie28Z_mYm-y5t_1qOopQrjd2xI9Fr1uBt-fTHSwKrCFhv_POAxOeN-ORqZ5CoiIfy27hf5OHbmAjnGUiiR9uBo68feNmmSxymAt_Pj1QWu5RZOYMSU8u6j0QHssKD/s640/IMG_2116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUWOhPgseobd1vBGhtwl8EbMdAiQ6djiAAZo50gmjNtpDO2JRbgSSao1cqu69fQmxie28Z_mYm-y5t_1qOopQrjd2xI9Fr1uBt-fTHSwKrCFhv_POAxOeN-ORqZ5CoiIfy27hf5OHbmAjnGUiiR9uBo68feNmmSxymAt_Pj1QWu5RZOYMSU8u6j0QHssKD/s320/IMG_2116.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />As Santa sat through another day of testimonies for the prosecution, his stomach growled, and quite naturally, he began to think of all those cookies and milk that would go uneaten this year, seeing that he was likely to be forced into retirement by a long prison sentence. <p></p><p>"Come to think on it, it's not so bad. Perhaps I'll finally get to settle down for a long winter's nap," he thought. "At the very least, I won't have to deal with that beastly chiwawa at 19 Lego Lane. They call him 'Ginger.' I say, 'Ginger snap,' since the little demon always bites my shins just above my boots. I'd have kicked her across their living room if I weren't such a saint..." </p><p>On these and other such ruminations, Santa resigned himself to drink whatever cup of wrath the fickle, ungrateful public set out for him. He was seen to close his eyes right there in court, no longer taking any apparent interest in the tears and bitter eyes of the witnesses. To his lawyer's dismay, Santa was seen to actually chuckle softly to himself, cross his hands over his large belly, lay his head back and fall asleep. </p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-52039968645836374322023-12-17T12:27:00.002-05:002023-12-26T12:40:46.207-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPsfj_xJCBghxtocjTRFtLiJ8D25t8X5jAMHYou1uXQ5MssciUMTzx1m8O-Hmjr8Z6ZIw4TgRwniLUn0olk3HqhcprGwKNqn8pDsCnf873obp3c48XOtuZGjN2C16dh-ROHpgegasudsYKhp2fL3bSVJQcvyIw1arwVZXxh86kdbxrJoCLlx-MXTgregW/s640/IMG_2080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPsfj_xJCBghxtocjTRFtLiJ8D25t8X5jAMHYou1uXQ5MssciUMTzx1m8O-Hmjr8Z6ZIw4TgRwniLUn0olk3HqhcprGwKNqn8pDsCnf873obp3c48XOtuZGjN2C16dh-ROHpgegasudsYKhp2fL3bSVJQcvyIw1arwVZXxh86kdbxrJoCLlx-MXTgregW/w240-h320/IMG_2080.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Santa sat in the courtroom for hours, staring at the clock, hearing countless testimony against his character set to the rhythm of the second hand. Witnesses maligned his saintly reputation claiming he only gives the best gifts to kids of the wealthy and fails to adequately compensate charities that, for years, have just been trying to make up for all that Santa <i>wouldn't </i>do for the poor... <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-74035754998440199672023-12-15T15:41:00.009-05:002023-12-16T07:58:01.064-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKzl8TCMcG4hgtqwC0ChkJLgrwSrmH4x3f6ieMiXB4g7QqzXNW1TXMO3GbLA0FGmTjB5EnCPudAKHwWjpSQ75QxmuHfb1fTjpjSgwi8MyDIBMLz9TUV6S5SlZQ2wTYTueSJnw57Sjkgiq68Fomfg6r0liLaDIpIAJN9Y7XCuxXTPW3s49x6nuc4t7Gmcp/s640/IMG_2070.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKzl8TCMcG4hgtqwC0ChkJLgrwSrmH4x3f6ieMiXB4g7QqzXNW1TXMO3GbLA0FGmTjB5EnCPudAKHwWjpSQ75QxmuHfb1fTjpjSgwi8MyDIBMLz9TUV6S5SlZQ2wTYTueSJnw57Sjkgiq68Fomfg6r0liLaDIpIAJN9Y7XCuxXTPW3s49x6nuc4t7Gmcp/w300-h400/IMG_2070.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />It was Gabriel Gamer's grandma who got run over by the reindeer. His family has been all over the news and their testimonies are also proving useful for the Prosecution even with the jury sequestered because of such a high profile case. <div><br /></div><div>Gabe's mom, Ann Abler-Gamer, has become a sort-of fixture on the five o'clock news: "Gabe has been the one most broken up about the whole thing, " she sniffles. "He isn't motivated to go to work. He hardly leaves his room. He finds it hard to sleep at night and sleeps all day instead." I have my suspicions that Gabe was a loser before his granny's unfortunate accident, but people are sheep and common opinion grows against Rudolph and Old Saint Nick and everything they represent. <p></p><div><br /></div><div>Disclaimer:</div><div>Many years ago, my brother bought our daughters their first Lego Advent calendar. But Uncle Donnie also wished to see the legos that were included in the calendar each day. To honor and humor his wishes, we'd post a picture everyday with a description of the Legos we opened that morning. Our description quickly turned into a story, and the story quickly became a saga, thus, "The Lego Saga" began. Now it is a cherished holiday tradition. The challenge is to make a coherent story from the pieces without knowing what pieces are coming next. The girls are old enough now to help, so many of the characters' names and plot points are their ideas. </div></div>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-48460016141432452352023-12-12T15:30:00.008-05:002023-12-15T16:04:02.236-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hc-5WjxxeYV0_OTORrC2eRRF_JIufgm11BfqU_M74hQQ08FTUSTfGJD9MqRSc0PywAIlAmgfwxXnGR3VPienJq60W4nXFdNcjayzpgdxaAomL5OsQkt5VFFAISGWN21FlcHzhUVrpHuxId24bdNyx4YOKk-FolDyOKMpJiSsPY8mwXLJbUUR15DcnW8y/s640/IMG_2069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hc-5WjxxeYV0_OTORrC2eRRF_JIufgm11BfqU_M74hQQ08FTUSTfGJD9MqRSc0PywAIlAmgfwxXnGR3VPienJq60W4nXFdNcjayzpgdxaAomL5OsQkt5VFFAISGWN21FlcHzhUVrpHuxId24bdNyx4YOKk-FolDyOKMpJiSsPY8mwXLJbUUR15DcnW8y/w300-h400/IMG_2069.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> The Prosecution's star witness is Katie Catlover. Her testimony about coming downstairs to find Santa drinking her cat's milk and eating his cookies is likely to keep Santa in the slammer for life or at least through next December. There goes Christmas. <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-70065268647107592742023-12-09T15:28:00.002-05:002023-12-15T16:04:15.601-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOt-Snk7Mrzh8VPkVB5B_3XOmUGM7eB181zKMmriIisbG8GALCmAo_MFrc4SptMJusL1761mem4MVYF3klPy8g4LSs27_lLOGwsbWJwQUVj_rxV3gFFKCyE-4t6ZlKbw-EtJPyKDgolqMEni-Kte6pKjymDxksrbJqwlbV72PhrzD1gdHnp0H7vTfiQqI/s640/IMG_2068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOt-Snk7Mrzh8VPkVB5B_3XOmUGM7eB181zKMmriIisbG8GALCmAo_MFrc4SptMJusL1761mem4MVYF3klPy8g4LSs27_lLOGwsbWJwQUVj_rxV3gFFKCyE-4t6ZlKbw-EtJPyKDgolqMEni-Kte6pKjymDxksrbJqwlbV72PhrzD1gdHnp0H7vTfiQqI/w300-h400/IMG_2068.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p>Caroline the caroler is also called to serve on Santa's jury. </p> <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-61994369063004279402023-12-07T15:26:00.002-05:002023-12-15T16:04:28.299-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXu5qpA5QqIQVu9I0lYzefxO4GcFIxNogb25o-2t6eL02_qxY7sePbScZYrQoKAEVjw2rLz5vYm54inxAMFSyLcBlHh9N34Q5gyjDPEWHvAzt5G0QUr44GUMSIlw07ofiJs9Mc9Vzufqon-iYffTWQ4AVGh1lbddAPSZcyti0BgyBwgM43R9SoCi3jG-F9/s640/IMG_2067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXu5qpA5QqIQVu9I0lYzefxO4GcFIxNogb25o-2t6eL02_qxY7sePbScZYrQoKAEVjw2rLz5vYm54inxAMFSyLcBlHh9N34Q5gyjDPEWHvAzt5G0QUr44GUMSIlw07ofiJs9Mc9Vzufqon-iYffTWQ4AVGh1lbddAPSZcyti0BgyBwgM43R9SoCi3jG-F9/w300-h400/IMG_2067.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />Izzy the ice sculptress is summoned to jury duty in Santa's trial. She doesn't qualify for an exemption to finish her art. <p></p><p><br /></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-84039096911732069672023-12-05T21:49:00.002-05:002023-12-15T16:04:42.082-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUD7r6SennKSToJtl7_cehPUOisZ3wjSSGz4to_CP9XaJtN50SIN7iqH_KUcXd6Yrc2ds2Ms64fhwRvY2VYdLHg1RB5kSykvjBwZ1HrXar3sAdDELkENWwZ-kGhG4vKkPeGW87A9R3jSAjWsE4LJr9mdqKjGCyO7nykkg3hqy2izJfTkgbRgIuUejR9jWH/s640/IMG_2043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUD7r6SennKSToJtl7_cehPUOisZ3wjSSGz4to_CP9XaJtN50SIN7iqH_KUcXd6Yrc2ds2Ms64fhwRvY2VYdLHg1RB5kSykvjBwZ1HrXar3sAdDELkENWwZ-kGhG4vKkPeGW87A9R3jSAjWsE4LJr9mdqKjGCyO7nykkg3hqy2izJfTkgbRgIuUejR9jWH/w400-h300/IMG_2043.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> Congrats to Hans! for winning the bronze!</div><p></p><p><br /></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-20099881549452731082023-12-04T21:58:00.006-05:002023-12-15T16:04:59.068-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5uxap3jmmoBQq_2t-pdbF9kw6RU0sxxMk6PGaCpCbhbIWST4Bth-aFd8d4FOCocrVnuMcbe_C22Ahqxk6OxlpXntEA2MYeaHaQTeNAe4ap5M4E95HBDAK5ZRewDhg5pm9fqsf6-oXCoIW8RvkOQ6FyzG5w2T2FqtT87oKIxc-V1ufavEX51PWXB3Cjss/s640/IMG_2037.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5uxap3jmmoBQq_2t-pdbF9kw6RU0sxxMk6PGaCpCbhbIWST4Bth-aFd8d4FOCocrVnuMcbe_C22Ahqxk6OxlpXntEA2MYeaHaQTeNAe4ap5M4E95HBDAK5ZRewDhg5pm9fqsf6-oXCoIW8RvkOQ6FyzG5w2T2FqtT87oKIxc-V1ufavEX51PWXB3Cjss/w300-h400/IMG_2037.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />Hanz is a hockey jock.<p></p><p>He's always happy to get a little scrappy.</p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-16769158259444498512023-12-03T21:17:00.001-05:002023-12-15T16:05:09.735-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_qf_o3-Hsispz0r2FVLdTNm_e1PiYOMk3bugpnYCMul3zXlLauV9V2jTtwnZZsD1rZgY3xfK_hI0TUpPGVTSijY7yPnRSJW0EA7o1ke5AcK171oeeCc8OPPHwUYnR-MS2Jo7ZtzTELNPDDy27xCghT8hBl0zotEik65F1O7cQE-z79k5TfvqDI88uq6f5/s640/IMG_2034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_qf_o3-Hsispz0r2FVLdTNm_e1PiYOMk3bugpnYCMul3zXlLauV9V2jTtwnZZsD1rZgY3xfK_hI0TUpPGVTSijY7yPnRSJW0EA7o1ke5AcK171oeeCc8OPPHwUYnR-MS2Jo7ZtzTELNPDDy27xCghT8hBl0zotEik65F1O7cQE-z79k5TfvqDI88uq6f5/w400-h300/IMG_2034.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Turns out, the sign is a WANTED poster. <p></p><p>This reindeer is being charged with manslaughter by hit and run. </p><p>Santa is wanted as an accessory. </p><p>And he's being charged with multiple counts of breaking and entering in his own right. </p><p>What's the world coming to? </p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-776655667342896426.post-74499093039015137012023-12-02T21:39:00.004-05:002023-12-02T21:39:35.986-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD6hzAwADZ45wFcbbIwKJXDaCLsNe3g99ZhodTAuZeIL03ok80sOQZkyGl4yFFNNFUXQBmeZJ2_AKmP4-YZ1GcF6dcOcX86hS8HK6iof_IiM-o7OBXLu5jHner1NsiVzNgA-mcQrsLjQ-9u8yL9bVzmmtpOJkxUxbIy9k0u2h6MrP5xV8wdiaoP3chjnqp/s640/IMG_2033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD6hzAwADZ45wFcbbIwKJXDaCLsNe3g99ZhodTAuZeIL03ok80sOQZkyGl4yFFNNFUXQBmeZJ2_AKmP4-YZ1GcF6dcOcX86hS8HK6iof_IiM-o7OBXLu5jHner1NsiVzNgA-mcQrsLjQ-9u8yL9bVzmmtpOJkxUxbIy9k0u2h6MrP5xV8wdiaoP3chjnqp/w300-h400/IMG_2033.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> After Grandma got run over by a reindeer, they put up a sign to try to prevent any more deaths. <p></p>Veronica Bouldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18225088487238484796noreply@blogger.com0