tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8646178546285712712024-02-18T20:46:17.813-08:00La Mia Vita PazzescaThis is just my place to rant and rave and reminisce about the past, present and future.Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-73908516826900938952010-02-28T16:24:00.000-08:002010-02-28T16:42:03.293-08:00The Park at Riverwalk<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYuMezytFqshMwQZy_WnFUSgtCjVV0rtW81PHWnviLtRJRN_lJa0GJ4VCUjOOXu0_OYG4TqzilGckb3GwJhMmSO4zUXQTaNJ-XuySUnSByesRzBhJeU9hN4U3XDXmCsKSe6gh2rwLJTM/s1600-h/IMG_0846a.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443458904277141154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYuMezytFqshMwQZy_WnFUSgtCjVV0rtW81PHWnviLtRJRN_lJa0GJ4VCUjOOXu0_OYG4TqzilGckb3GwJhMmSO4zUXQTaNJ-XuySUnSByesRzBhJeU9hN4U3XDXmCsKSe6gh2rwLJTM/s320/IMG_0846a.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHEASzcpOc6eYfZ-UiYN6VeHiDA5gIxbBY_FFb15gQyPl9_yDlsKqoS35YoJX58MndVIV985W1gLl7juY71KPMddJKkoSf-nBnU7mOGhoKSDl-5CYiQzuwRw7oV2dnnvtT9D-7n6jnr8/s1600-h/IMG_0871a.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; 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WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440485220370997378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjXYpoO5Zkq5_deAAXU8MLb-XfnCGx9tAZvf0Y9duBVmetDFFy8REWTbHc8mQaUQLWiV_FtQCVOKqqoeJJBf9inAOf1DSiwGFdW4bDAb7OzMfpm9OOt-k_CR73iQEy3Z83biOGDEeBHQ/s320/IMG_0405+copy.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-21853841749819988762010-01-30T15:23:00.000-08:002010-01-30T16:56:18.697-08:00Ragu, Be gone!<div align="center">Earlier in the week, I asked my followers on Twitter to throw some ideas my way on what subject matter I should use for my next blog post. Since I'm <strong>*incredibly*</strong> popular on that website, I received one, measly suggestion: Spaghetti. (Thank you @mumbleguy)</div><br /><br /><div align="center">Seeing how I AM Italian and I LOVE pasta (<------ redundant), coming up with something to write on spaghetti was as natural for me as changing a diaper with one hand while vacuuming with the other: A RECIPE.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><br />If you can spare a few dollars, have mostly functioning hands and enjoy a bowl of pasta with red sauce, there is absolutely no reason why you should be using sauce out of jar. I am here to save my blog readers (you two can thank me later) from sauce that taste like it came from Chef BARFadee. I give you the easiest & quickest homemade spaghetti sauce ever. Also known as......... well.....</div><div align="center">Just Spaghetti Sauce. </div><br /><br /><br /><strong>Ingredients Needed:</strong><br /><br /><br />Extra Virgin Olive Oil<br /><br /><br />Diced Onion<br /><br /><br />Crushed Red Pepper<br /><br /><br />Salt<br /><br /><br />Chopped Garlic<br /><br /><br />Italian Seasoning<br /><br /><br />28 oz Crushed Tomatoes<br /><br /><br /><em>FRESH</em> Basil<br /><br /><br /><strong>Optional Ingredients:</strong><br /><br />Diced Tomatoes<br /><br /><br />Green Chiles<br /><br /><br />Italian Sausage<br /><br /><br />Bell Peppers<br /><br /><br />Other Vegetables<br /><br /><br />Other Seasonings<br /><br /><br />Other Meat<br /><br /><br />Other Anything That Might be Appetizing in Homemade Spaghetti Sauce<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>The Process (approx. 15 minutes)</strong><br /><br /><br />Step Numero Uno<br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Retrieve your very best knife. If you do not have a decent knife in your kitchen, please add 60 - 80 minutes to the quoted time above, as you will spend that time sawing your onion into bite size pieces.</div><div align="center">With your super fabulous knife, dice however much onion your little heart desires. For my family, it is roughly half an onion.</div><br /><br /><br />Step 2<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center">Drizzle a good amount of olive oil into your skillet. If you have problems "drizzling" you need one of these spouts:</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXAJZxMgvE6C44R5oLGkCWrWXBpNDIAQQU3vYGrWabTdVhrno1efuZGPrnalFTnGFBOAYDHTlyqHqBnPAWJ3cN4W9h8kBtBM4xOv4agZQkOig47_WbrmYEFZ3G62xCF2FusfeE279IJhE/s1600-h/spaghetti4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432682603613247266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXAJZxMgvE6C44R5oLGkCWrWXBpNDIAQQU3vYGrWabTdVhrno1efuZGPrnalFTnGFBOAYDHTlyqHqBnPAWJ3cN4W9h8kBtBM4xOv4agZQkOig47_WbrmYEFZ3G62xCF2FusfeE279IJhE/s320/spaghetti4.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Step C<br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Dump your diced onion into the pan which should be over a medium level fire so that your Olive Oil is pre-heated. If you don't like crunchy onions, you better saute the hell out of those tear-inducing babies right now. If you intend on adding other vegetables or other meats also do so now....... Ill wait. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><br />Next Step<br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Add desired seasonings: Crushed Red Peppers, Salt, Italian Seasoning and "other seasonings" as listed above. Don't ask me how much, let your intuitions lead you. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">If you would like to saute your garlic in the olive oil you should add it at this point and let it heat momentarily. Be sure not to let it burn, or else you'll have bitter garlic. And let's face it, if your garlic tastes like crap, what's the point? I mean REALLY! </div><p><br /><br /><br />Your spaghetti sauce should look something like this:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQSgSEvnwpjx3T1dhJjalVfqt23ajmklTrAym0tGaVmNp1aLF5PyDaKBGPZi6n4CjswhoEIMF5LzRvaO2jH8ybe3ejPbPcuIVBJIcR67zHlI5yMfDEd1CY3xiJwUuTDwWwoYZWOIPQHA/s1600-h/spaghetti3.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432685579343488722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQSgSEvnwpjx3T1dhJjalVfqt23ajmklTrAym0tGaVmNp1aLF5PyDaKBGPZi6n4CjswhoEIMF5LzRvaO2jH8ybe3ejPbPcuIVBJIcR67zHlI5yMfDEd1CY3xiJwUuTDwWwoYZWOIPQHA/s320/spaghetti3.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p>Step Cuatro<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><div align="center">Carefully pour in your ginormous can of crushed tomatoes. If you'd prefer your garlic to loan a more potent taste to your pasta sauce, NOW would be the time to add it. I'd tell you how many cloves to use but in this house we just judge it on how horrid our breath smells after dinner and then adjust accordingly.</div><div align="right"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">*** On a side note, I may or may not have used already chopped garlic from the produce section at our local grocery store.But don't tell my dad's side of the family. ***</div><p align="center"><br /><br /><strong>The Grand Finale!</strong><br /><br /><br /></p><div align="center">Tear in your <em>FRESH</em> Basil (it makes a difference!) and simmer until your spaghetti sauce has reached your desired temperature. Let's make sure it doesn't come to a boil, because then it will start to splatter all over your white tiled countertops and your husband will have to scrub the grout a week later when he's cleaning the kitchen to get himself out of the dog house........</div><div align="center">On second thought, let it splatter. </div><div align="center">Just sayin'.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Here's a picture of my <em>FRESH </em>Basil in my easiest & quickest spaghetti sauce ever:</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TpldpTvQ7RsqT5A6gaXy3wJsSzoNV487MRe44sSRoHcTg2ElXnbBcTHmlLX3qFeZsDidJJesB73Ze6zhw8wpsPyCA8YSJ_FvdfhaoHRrnq9YlAS-YBhF1204dAhpQxmEWeBrld2xmtg/s1600-h/spaghetti2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432690788814965138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TpldpTvQ7RsqT5A6gaXy3wJsSzoNV487MRe44sSRoHcTg2ElXnbBcTHmlLX3qFeZsDidJJesB73Ze6zhw8wpsPyCA8YSJ_FvdfhaoHRrnq9YlAS-YBhF1204dAhpQxmEWeBrld2xmtg/s320/spaghetti2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">While your sauce is simmering, feel free to bake your garlic bread, compose and boil your fresh pasta, prepare ingredients for a farm fresh salad and mix your own Balsamic Vinagairette. What?! Not everybody does that on spaghetti night??</div><div align="center">Ok... me neither.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Throw a ladle of that yummy Italian goodness over a hot pasta of your choice and you've got dinner!</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">MANGIA</span>, MANGIA!!</strong></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqVnxxGZ5_OycGYrNy7H9PhFb1tcPNWFNzeb47hrIjcr97Y7rNhQhBFXqQvFXaL9oDaJRMMemg4tCpJdVeQFDYeBxIlyr1aK1-Wwtj2ueWEuYtl9PFk1nuR0tvXiDrMhK2K7ygGTwOWQ/s1600-h/spaghetti.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432692325904255362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqVnxxGZ5_OycGYrNy7H9PhFb1tcPNWFNzeb47hrIjcr97Y7rNhQhBFXqQvFXaL9oDaJRMMemg4tCpJdVeQFDYeBxIlyr1aK1-Wwtj2ueWEuYtl9PFk1nuR0tvXiDrMhK2K7ygGTwOWQ/s320/spaghetti.jpg" /></a>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-26120923271283047882009-11-04T14:53:00.001-08:002009-11-10T19:21:58.008-08:00Wordless Wednesday.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisp7AoaB8KT7zhPIZSlLkaIm-EcLycgtPHegJB-n9sPRAcYriEbN1KozmRC3oiA8jIIMuFP85qNTxkqaZuFwqyZgy4HHZFvaQZCI4qthESleAnVpuU87-5Hpd6b6HiWWSRPSFdY8eUI94/s1600-h/FallKids.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400387157932706978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisp7AoaB8KT7zhPIZSlLkaIm-EcLycgtPHegJB-n9sPRAcYriEbN1KozmRC3oiA8jIIMuFP85qNTxkqaZuFwqyZgy4HHZFvaQZCI4qthESleAnVpuU87-5Hpd6b6HiWWSRPSFdY8eUI94/s320/FallKids.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc0000;"><strong>My trio of Superheroes on Halloween.</strong></span></p>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-39226772497702836562009-10-06T21:13:00.000-07:002009-10-06T22:01:56.391-07:0010 More Things You Couldn't Care Less About.(This blog post is co-hosted by Cynthia Penny)<br /><br />1. Most of my family would consider me a freaky dish-washer. The sponge, by no means, can come in contact with any particle of food. All leftovers MUST be rinsed before the washing of the dishes can commence.<br /><br />2. If you saw a picture of me when I was 12, you'd notice that I looked like a "Chola". I rocked the baggy jeans, tights tops, black lipstick and tried to throw gang signs for some awesome pictures that my family now uses as blackmail.<br />(From Wikianswers.com - A chola is a female of latin decent, who is one of the "homies.")<br /><br />3. I've seen "Dirty Dancing" more times than I'd like to admit. My grandmother recorded it from television onto a VHS tape when I was in elementary school and I'd watch it repeatedly each time I visited her house. In May I was blessed to see the musical at the Pantages Theater and it was BREATHTAKING!<br />R.I.P. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_swayze">Patrick Swayze</a>.<br /><br />4. I spent last Saturday night knitting a scarf and eating lemon pudding...... alone. Yes, it's gotten that bad.<br /><br />5. I'm emotionally preparing myself to turn 30 years old....Pretty confident I'll spend the majority of 2010 agonizing over my birthday that Summer.<br /><br />6. Do not bring a Snickers candy bar into my home. You will be promptly removed by my bouncer for sabotaging my diet.<br /><br />7. I was 75 yards away from a black bear in the Sequoia National Forest this past summer and I almost peed my pants.<br /><br />8. Doctors have induced labor for me 4 times even though I only have 3 children.<br /><br />9. I just darkened my hair less than 2 weeks ago. And this morning <a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=864617854628571271&postID=3183753704835292827"><strong>I found a Gray hair!</strong></a><br /><br />10. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4DjzcowJjA&NR=1&feature=fvwp">ROSEANNE </a> re-runs kept me occupied when I lived in the Hell Hole known as Twenty Nine Palms, Ca.Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-44584584902401945412009-09-30T21:59:00.000-07:002009-09-30T22:24:05.394-07:00Ten Things You Might Not Know About Me.... Yet.<div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong> 1. I have the two best sisters anyone could ask for... EVER. (Ok, most of you already knew that one) But seriously - babysitting, an open ear, love, blunt honesty - whatever I need, they've got it! SMOOCHES Cyndi and Jamie!</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>2. If I wasn't married with children, I'd be a full on vegetarian. As it is, I'll only eat turkey and chicken. But when it comes to chicken, it MUST be a boneless, skinless chicken breast. And I only eat the inside of it... not the outer-most border. Hold your gasps and dropped jaws, I've heard it all.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>3. When I'm rocking out in my mommy car, the radio's volume must be tuned to very specific numbers. The only acceptable ones are 20, 25, 30, 33, 35, 38, 40 and 42.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>4. I'm not convinced that I'm capable of leaving the house without eyeliner and mascara; even if I'm about to sweat it off at the gym.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>5. I'll admit that I sort of, kind of suck at Geography. Did you all know that Alaska is connected to Canada and is not in fact an "island" as U.S. maps would have you believe?</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>6. I'm proud to know nothing about the 80's, except that it boasted blue eyeshadow and teased hair. I go to bat for the 90's though!</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>7. Along with a few others who shall remain nameless, I'm of the firm belief that if no one saw you eat that candy bar, that it really didn't happen.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>8. Two words: Texture. Freak. I can't stand yogurt especially. Ice cream is pretty low on the list too.... unless it's got something crunchy in it. Preferrably nuts.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>9. Flossing my kids' teeth is the WORST part about being a parent! (you know that if you've read </strong></span><a href="http://momprivatosonno.blogspot.com/2009/06/go-to-place-far-far-away-from-here.html"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">this post</span></strong></a><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>)</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><br /><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>10. I MIGHT have an eensy weensy, tiny little celebrity crush on Rob Lowe. Back off Sheryl Berkoff!</strong></span></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-75811206144293199302009-09-09T21:15:00.001-07:002009-09-09T21:20:55.918-07:00Top 5 Reasons to Love Mexican Food<div align="center"><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQV5SZaiyeqInHcvGLoeIIgd-rlVDYeSIKv-OtyByjCDeIwDcrmkUZZOeFwHHopOJNM3yssAEFyN2VQ3W_Ug6cEygfy4sIFebdT83bhVVTdC1N2ouEH0PgtWO3UoTPvVk-wiQVlDro42s/s1600-h/marg.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379688805677410866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQV5SZaiyeqInHcvGLoeIIgd-rlVDYeSIKv-OtyByjCDeIwDcrmkUZZOeFwHHopOJNM3yssAEFyN2VQ3W_Ug6cEygfy4sIFebdT83bhVVTdC1N2ouEH0PgtWO3UoTPvVk-wiQVlDro42s/s320/marg.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /></div><div align="center">1) The spicer you make it, the yummier it tastes.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">2) It compliments the Margaritas.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">3) It's always served with rice.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">4) FREE CHIPS. Need I say more?</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">5) It compliments the Margaritas!</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQV5SZaiyeqInHcvGLoeIIgd-rlVDYeSIKv-OtyByjCDeIwDcrmkUZZOeFwHHopOJNM3yssAEFyN2VQ3W_Ug6cEygfy4sIFebdT83bhVVTdC1N2ouEH0PgtWO3UoTPvVk-wiQVlDro42s/s1600-h/marg.jpg"></a> </div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-57066424626239075822009-08-19T08:40:00.001-07:002009-08-19T10:06:39.160-07:00Wordless Wednesday.<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#990000;">I don't know about you all, but if someone asked me if I would like a banana, I would most certainly react by hurling myself onto the floor and crying into my older brother's dirty Wannabe Croc Shoe. Right?</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6iHpq8pVl8qiXik1STp2EUx0ackDelN4PvgTxsIA0psSF2OPn8knaafmNOyGRxCTUbeBgT3W0riFK6Epeo9Vp8lKaoKvIoxa7xsIoEUh4LJYfkxBjtLi6HuGUuFhurCAlymEBuRk5aE/s1600-h/IMG_1007.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371700905673714018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6iHpq8pVl8qiXik1STp2EUx0ackDelN4PvgTxsIA0psSF2OPn8knaafmNOyGRxCTUbeBgT3W0riFK6Epeo9Vp8lKaoKvIoxa7xsIoEUh4LJYfkxBjtLi6HuGUuFhurCAlymEBuRk5aE/s320/IMG_1007.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihicmBsUTwezsyxykDmG1qTVhl81WLDQVELAbAhYSHkiWDtA9wX-18vbIEVWvU7QHmvogywRyB3__zyKCGek0a0lGW3pnNcwe4uDeObkWRDfRUkvyBAK6QdadilOirbv_jXJmtFJHVIQE/s1600-h/IMG_1006.JPG"></a></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihicmBsUTwezsyxykDmG1qTVhl81WLDQVELAbAhYSHkiWDtA9wX-18vbIEVWvU7QHmvogywRyB3__zyKCGek0a0lGW3pnNcwe4uDeObkWRDfRUkvyBAK6QdadilOirbv_jXJmtFJHVIQE/s1600-h/IMG_1006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371701452512182898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihicmBsUTwezsyxykDmG1qTVhl81WLDQVELAbAhYSHkiWDtA9wX-18vbIEVWvU7QHmvogywRyB3__zyKCGek0a0lGW3pnNcwe4uDeObkWRDfRUkvyBAK6QdadilOirbv_jXJmtFJHVIQE/s320/IMG_1006.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3V3m9ZQILJtYD4mqdQuGhU7wt-FtbmW9V05ACm6nsqZR2b_Pn8mSig0B8gWs9ixxEFF3_rgUhFG32gmXSLk00gr9rk06BbhMpnFi01oc7TL9hAb6z1APROf5p2g3q3Wmaj7LN_CyR2fw/s1600-h/IMG_1009.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371702780208106946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3V3m9ZQILJtYD4mqdQuGhU7wt-FtbmW9V05ACm6nsqZR2b_Pn8mSig0B8gWs9ixxEFF3_rgUhFG32gmXSLk00gr9rk06BbhMpnFi01oc7TL9hAb6z1APROf5p2g3q3Wmaj7LN_CyR2fw/s320/IMG_1009.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#660000;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#660000;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#660000;">But just moments later, all is right in Mitchell's world.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#660000;">And that really sums up each day this week. Baby throws self onto floor/furniture/shopping cart, baby wails, mommy tries to ignore baby's fit (or bribe baby, if in public), baby forgets what all the fuss was about, baby smiles at mommy, 763 more strands of mommy's hair fade to Gray.</span></strong> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#660000;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>And.................. scene!</strong></span></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-11264190552747652492009-07-28T20:30:00.000-07:002009-07-28T20:45:31.860-07:00There was chocolate on it."Hey Andrew! Can you get me one of those Weight Watchers desserts?" is how this story starts. He brought me a low calorie Brownie & Ice cream treat from the Smart ones box. He then proceeded to enjoy his grape popscicle.<br /><br />Kaitlynn? Well, she doesn't get dessert tonight. She asserted her four-year-oldness this evening and didn't touch dinner. Little Princess then proudly announced "Andrew! I don't even care if I don't get dessert!"<br /><br />But I could see it in her eyes...that glare. She was coveting the diet goodness that would soon be plastered to my hips. "Mom? Can I take off the lid?" she asked. "Sure, but be careful and take it straight to the trash can or else the fudge topping is going to get all over the place." Kaitlynn then carefully peeled it off, delivered it to the garbage can and reclaimed her spot on the couch next to me.<br />It was only a few moments later when I looked at her and was overcome with laughter.<br /><br />I quickly rushed my hand to my mouth so she wouldn't be clued into my real thoughts. Once I was able to finally fake a straight face, I asked her (very seriously), "Kaitlynn, Did you lick the lid of my dessert?" With her most innocent face, "No" was all she replied. Again I asked (underneath more laughter), "Kaitlynn, are you SURE you didn't lick the lid of my dessert??" And once more, in her most angelic voice she assured me she did not.<br /><br />"Then WHY is their chocolate ALL OVER YOUR FACE???" was the final question during this interrogation.<br /><br />Little Princess replied with, "Well MOM! There was chocolate on the lid!"<br /><br />Duh, Mom.<br /><br />She then trotted over to our full length mirror to remove all the evidence.<br /><br />This one is going down in the record books. Or at least my blog.Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-33505082546669547882009-07-22T18:34:00.000-07:002009-07-22T18:37:14.548-07:00So True.I received this in a forwarded email this evening. I don't know how genuine the letter is, but it still makes a very valid point. I felt it my duty, to post it. So here goes -<br /><br />This is written by a young man serving his third tour of duty in Iraq <br />Thought you might find his take on the Michael Jackson news interesting.<br /><br /><br />Okay, I need to rant.<br />I was just watching the news, and I caught part of a report on MichaelJackson. As we all know, Jackson died the other day. He was anentertainer who performed for decades. He made millions, he spentmillions, and he did a lot of things that make him a villain to manypeople. I understand that his death would affect a lot of people, andI respect those people who mourn his death, but that isn't the pointof my rant.<br /><br />Why is it that when ONE man dies, the whole of America loses theirminds with grief. When a man dies whose only contribution to thecountry was to ENTERTAIN people, the American people find the need toflock to a memorial in Hollywood , and even Congress sees the need tohold a "moment of silence" for his passing?<br /><br />Am I missing something here? ONE man dies, and all of a sudden he's afucking martyr because he entertained us for a few decades? Whatabout all those SOLDIERS who have died to give us freedom? All thoseSoldiers who, knowing that they would be asked to fight in a war,still raised their hands and swore to defend the Constitution and theUnited States of America. Where is their moment of silence? Whereare the people flocking to their graves or memorials and mourning overthem because they made the ultimate sacrifice? Why is it when aSoldier dies, there are more people saying "good riddance," and "thankGod for IEDs?" When did this country become so calloused to thesacrifice of GOOD MEN and WOMEN, that they can arbitrarily blow offtheir deaths, and instead, throw themselves into mourning for a "PopIcon?"<br /><br />I think that if they are going to hold a moment of silence IN CONGRESSfor Michael Jackson, they need to hold a moment of silence for everyservice member killed in Iraq and Afghanistan They need to PUBLICLYrecognize every life that has been lost so that the American peoplecan live their callous little lives in the luxury and freedom that WE,those that are living and those that have gone on, have provided forthem. But, wait, that would take too much time, because there havebeen so many willing to make that sacrifice. After all, we will nevermake millions of dollars. We will never star in movies, or write hitsongs that the world will listen too. We only shed our blood, sweatand tears so that people can enjoy what they have..<br /><br />Sorry if I have offended, but I needed to say it.<br /><br /> Remember these five words the next time you think of someone who is serving in the military;<br /><br />"So that others may live..."<br /><br />IsaacChristina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-60920670127301655012009-07-07T15:27:00.000-07:002009-07-07T15:28:36.775-07:00Let there be light!<p>Can I just say how embaressed and stupid I feel????</p><p>The light switch in our main living room went out back in May. It's connected to the ceiling fan. So one switch on the wall turns on the fan and the other switch turns on the light. Haven't been able to get the light switch to work for months. A repairman came out and couldn't figure it out..... said he'd buy a new switch and see if that helps it. "Albert" never came back however, so there's a new repairman here now. He messed around with the switch and then asked, "Have you tried pulling the string on the fan?"</p><p>Ummm.. nooooo? </p><p>Should I? </p><p>And wouldnt you know it?! When the string is pulled into the ON position, the light switch works perfectly! It's a wonder I even make it through a day without killing or majorly injuring myself!</p>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-76426648564980575192009-06-07T20:22:00.000-07:002009-06-07T20:51:57.715-07:00Go to a place.. far, far away from here...In this post I'd like you to close your eyes, (but not really, because I haven't mastered braille on my blog) and think hard. Think hard about things you really hate.<br /><br />What do you see? Terrorists? Liars? Sunday night television?<br /><br />Imagine you are preparing your three children for bed. They make a last ditch effort to stall, and drink water. They use the restroom. They put on their pajamas.<br />Now it's time to to take care of dental hygeine.<br /><br />Before tonight, I would have told you, if there was any one chore I hated, it's flossing my kids' teeth. It's got to be the most pain-in-the-butt parental duty EVER.<br /><br />But just minutes ago... it got worse.<br /><br />So now in our not-so-fake scenario, you're flossing your almost7yearoldson's teeth, molars to be exact. In and out, hug the tooth, scrape it down. Ooh look.. there's a tight spot there, can't......quite......get....the floss out. Hmm.. let's just give a little tug and..........<br /><br />SICK!!! That piece of food in between his back molars just flicked out and landed on your bottom lip!<br /><br />DISGUSTING! REPULSIVE! UNBELIEVABLE! Curses!!<br /><br />I ask you people, is there anything worse than having a piece of your son's chewed up food chilling on your lip for any amount of time?!<br /><br />Well how about when you wipe it off and see the morsel in all of it's white chunky glory. Pardon me while I puke........Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-36591312956807755102009-06-07T19:28:00.000-07:002009-06-07T19:33:52.613-07:00Last Year, Same Time<div align="center"><span style="color:#993300;">The kids have been out of school for 9 days, Cory's been gone for 24 hours, so that means I've got ONE little itsty-bitsy, teeny-weeny nerve left... and most days my children are on it! I recently took my first grocery shopping trip of the Summer with all three children in tow. I must boast that it was rather pleasant. I mean all I really had to do to keep them in check was give them food that I hadn't paid for yet while we strolled the aisles. That's normal, right?? </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#993300;">I'm so happy it wasn't a repeat of last year's first Summer grocery shopping trip, which you can conveniently read about </span><a href="http://momprivatosonno.blogspot.com/2008/06/shopping-with-3-monsters.html"><strong><span style="color:#993300;">RIGHT HERE.</span></strong></a></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-62166704167876630612009-06-03T13:07:00.000-07:002009-06-03T13:12:54.544-07:00Happy Summer!<div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>A friend brought this joke to my attention - Enjoy the laughs!! I sure did!</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>BBQ RULES </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>We are about to enter the BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity. </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion: </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Routine...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(1) The woman buys the food. </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert . </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand. </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(4) The woman remains outside the compulsory three meter exclusion zone where the exuberance of testosterone and other manly bonding activities can take place without the interference of the woman.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Here comes the important part: </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong><em>(5) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.</em></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong> More routine...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(6) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(7) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking great. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he flips the meat </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>Important again: </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong><em>(8) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN</em>. </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>More routine... </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(9) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table. </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(10) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes. </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>And most important of all: </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(11) Everyone <em>PRAISES</em> the <em>MAN</em> and <em>THANKS HIM</em> for his cooking efforts. </strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>(12) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed ' her night off ', and, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"><strong>HAHAHAHA!!!</strong></span></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-37091618965459704692009-05-08T15:52:00.000-07:002009-05-08T15:58:21.449-07:00A Note To His Mom.<div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>This is a copy of the paper my 6 1/2 year old son wrote about me..... his Mom. I added a few minor personal touches (ahem, corrections) which can be found in the parenthesis.</strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>"My mom is the best. (Well, that's abundantly clear.... RIGHT, everyone?) She always helps me do my homework. (true dat) Sometimes she makes me help her cook. (What?! I wouldn't trust that boy within an inch of a flame) But she never plays outside with me. (Oh GREAT. I sure hope his teacher didn't proofread this. In fact, when I saw her on Tuesday I JOKINGLY mentioned, "Oh I bet my son has got something embaressing on his note about me." She told me not to worry about it.....I shouldn't have listened. Just an FYI, my friends, I reminded him how I play football and baseball with him all the time outside and he then replied with, "Well I meant you don't play outside with me EVERY time". Oh. Ok.... much better)</strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>When my mom was a little girl, she liked reading. Without my mom, my family would be a mess! (This made me LOL. I asked with a huge grin, "The family would be a mess?!" Andrew's answer: "I just meant this room would be a mess." At least he's clear on my job description I suppose?)</strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>I love my mom so much!</strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Love, Andrew</strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYykNdf_M8iA4YvZXTLMt5BXddIfL6h_cgMNqVycA5ITKBlBfaeJ8tEoQ-p0HyBVJ0IIdMt5Z6YyJERSy1QhuD-BYtfiyDLIavM-F-s1BYBOlZYrbqyf9R35Oab-3OPezVON_KwngcJ4/s1600-h/IMG_9463.JPG"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333590685546888210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYykNdf_M8iA4YvZXTLMt5BXddIfL6h_cgMNqVycA5ITKBlBfaeJ8tEoQ-p0HyBVJ0IIdMt5Z6YyJERSy1QhuD-BYtfiyDLIavM-F-s1BYBOlZYrbqyf9R35Oab-3OPezVON_KwngcJ4/s320/IMG_9463.JPG" border="0" /></strong></a></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-46694594168365639592009-04-21T20:47:00.000-07:002009-04-21T21:01:43.078-07:00I've been reduced, to juice.I can't recall how much I've actually publicized my diet on this blog, but here goes. <br /><br />On January 6th, Cory and I got back into the swing of things by beginning to follow the Weight Watchers points system once again. He entered a Biggest Loser challenge with twelve other people in his building at work. We joined the gym. We rode our bikes. We counted and journaled and prayed.. OK, I did anyway. Cory didn't win the challenge, but he took 3rd place. He lost FOURTY-SEVEN pounds people! In only 3 months. Can you say amazing?! I hate men... well their metabolisms anyway. And I lost a measly........ I'm not going to say just quite yet. I <em>will</em> say that I've been incredibly motivated and dedicated to this new lifestyle. If I'm not at the gym in the morning, I'm jogging around the block. Or I'm staring at Denise Austin on our flat screen. Turns out just staring doesn't help you lose weight, who knew? On a serious note - I've been doing my weight lifting, my abs, my stretching, my cardio.. you name it. I've spent hours researching which foods have lean protein, which have staying power, how to jumpstart my metabolism... shoot.. I even went to my doctor and had her test my thyroid. Because, even after three months of doing allllll that, it seemed as if I couldn't lose any more than twelve pounds. My weight was up and down and all around. <br />But check this out. Yesterday morning I put a few chicken breasts in the crock pot and covered them in a jar of peach-pineapple salsa. By 5:30 I was warming corn tortillas (a weakness of mine) and shredding the chicken. My family thoroughly enjoyed the chicken tacos, but I... well I enjoyed my salad. With no salad dressing. NOPE. Just lemon juice. Un.heard.of. No ranch dressing, no croutons, no turkey bacon bits, etc. It was incredibly delightful and as a bonus - low in points. This morning I weighed myself, as I do numerous times a day (no lectures about that please!) and I can finally say out loud (or not so much) that I've passed that twelve pound threshold and have now lost 14 pounds! I honestly never thought I'd see this day! My doctor says for my height, build and body type that she would only like me to lose sixteen more pounds at most. I'm aiming for twenty-six pounds less by the end of the Summer at <em>least</em>. Hopefully a little earlier than that, we're going to Cabo San Lucas in June!Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-7843264731318675262009-04-19T13:22:00.000-07:002009-04-19T13:34:44.029-07:00Drumroll Please......!<span style="color:#cc0000;">Turns out, my husband happened to be a decent liar.. Just for a week or so. He realized that I had figured out where we were going for our anniversary trip awhile back, (as I usually do) so he made up the spiel where it was NOT in California or Nevada.<br /><br /></span><div><div><div><div><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">So, to be fair, I have visited </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.random.org"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">RANDOM.ORG</span></strong></a><span style="color:#cc0000;"> and had the site generate a random number for me. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">They say, the winner is #3! </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><em>Stacey</em></strong> commented:</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">"I am going to guess Portland OR! But were ever you go I am sure you will have a great time!!!"</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">Congratulations Stacey! I'll contact you about your prize later today!</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">And she was right! We had a great time in LAKE TAHOE! We haven't visited Lake Tahoe since we got married seven years ago and it was totally worth the wait. I've posted just a few pictures of the 200 or so that we captured. Thank you all for entering the giveaway!</span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSG0CEbzD-bzXx0Ap_fzO5xUsdo8tyAYTJMaOSnrklwuDIJpsfA8Tq1t-lumULFH59tLe5v1_bbud-0I_9IQwVDg3_HIa6AjOr9bEua380owFQLp1n0W5cZ312P0PSTa8h3Yu-nJmhowc/s1600-h/IMG_0041.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326502817376610754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSG0CEbzD-bzXx0Ap_fzO5xUsdo8tyAYTJMaOSnrklwuDIJpsfA8Tq1t-lumULFH59tLe5v1_bbud-0I_9IQwVDg3_HIa6AjOr9bEua380owFQLp1n0W5cZ312P0PSTa8h3Yu-nJmhowc/s320/IMG_0041.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBCvMvkCsvQIBXWK7SsGVf5PvBXpgDZtXcRqHNG1yOyL-Z1LfDyhBhTrldzAKTEWWGFLd-TaKKt_5azyxgVoSY5id8g3Hj4ON1tsy_wYsq96mHrfsSxV89wtkyXoz9-jUPH0V_jTOtL0/s1600-h/IMG_0557.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326502825463932930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBCvMvkCsvQIBXWK7SsGVf5PvBXpgDZtXcRqHNG1yOyL-Z1LfDyhBhTrldzAKTEWWGFLd-TaKKt_5azyxgVoSY5id8g3Hj4ON1tsy_wYsq96mHrfsSxV89wtkyXoz9-jUPH0V_jTOtL0/s320/IMG_0557.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXne358rDzxwAIJxpwsGdKHye7nocJu-Kr9ug-yQzW3Afw1VJkYP6Ik2Qfid4-Rln7uo2PBTGVR2Rvu3AR2W0y1eydYd44gDqkTDdTNo760GDJwkoNf27ea6XDFhAu1sY0NCK3HknjyY/s1600-h/IMG_0045.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326502824075065826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXne358rDzxwAIJxpwsGdKHye7nocJu-Kr9ug-yQzW3Afw1VJkYP6Ik2Qfid4-Rln7uo2PBTGVR2Rvu3AR2W0y1eydYd44gDqkTDdTNo760GDJwkoNf27ea6XDFhAu1sY0NCK3HknjyY/s320/IMG_0045.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIOB0F9D3nohuYnsLpedBZ3P1wbWgMKdJQCs-oU2vMrRMSnUBp3rmUG9JbfRMDu-hwpfKI-8pYeSLJK534m0nQijXD5dvQBR5LugIevaGxY-vrezkrUO-vnlIv78T0aScwK6mcLCv4bw/s1600-h/IMG_0017.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326502814790164674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIOB0F9D3nohuYnsLpedBZ3P1wbWgMKdJQCs-oU2vMrRMSnUBp3rmUG9JbfRMDu-hwpfKI-8pYeSLJK534m0nQijXD5dvQBR5LugIevaGxY-vrezkrUO-vnlIv78T0aScwK6mcLCv4bw/s320/IMG_0017.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbRksutUZ9GXGcNaghuzrPXXQ3qsooVS9fIwj40f9ouoblaFLl7hkw-sxRkeBfmBeeOND1F1Q3TTqg83nwvaM3NXWrC0s7Xnr92gCX7FM1skBKWfto_m4oOuieusXQR7F9yOZ7ZXUtoo/s1600-h/IMG_0011.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326502811229757810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbRksutUZ9GXGcNaghuzrPXXQ3qsooVS9fIwj40f9ouoblaFLl7hkw-sxRkeBfmBeeOND1F1Q3TTqg83nwvaM3NXWrC0s7Xnr92gCX7FM1skBKWfto_m4oOuieusXQR7F9yOZ7ZXUtoo/s320/IMG_0011.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-60259708805539640852009-04-08T22:23:00.000-07:002009-04-08T23:13:06.934-07:00Adventures in Tough Love.<span style="color:#6600cc;">Miss Priss (also known as Kaitlynn) is known to keep us laughing most days. EVEN THOUGH she's stubborn, hard-headed, determined, *like her mom*, etc... She's always a hoot. And darn cute if I do say so myself.<br /></span><div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GP96C7TlTz6uMwaGEmifLbnQMpUdX7iOQrYtyffPPBczincHAx3ea6wdeDgWE8AxqYhbZ3zAlhb6xlXwIKu8CwltbG-GgQKo_y2v6zAiCZC0vR7jdNmmWdQ2TCmBMZyQctl06WhkVfI/s1600-h/IMG_0001.JPG"><span style="color:#6600cc;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322563855814562306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GP96C7TlTz6uMwaGEmifLbnQMpUdX7iOQrYtyffPPBczincHAx3ea6wdeDgWE8AxqYhbZ3zAlhb6xlXwIKu8CwltbG-GgQKo_y2v6zAiCZC0vR7jdNmmWdQ2TCmBMZyQctl06WhkVfI/s320/IMG_0001.JPG" border="0" /></span></a></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">However, tonight's post is not about being cute.... or funny. It's about the other side of Kaitlynn. See? It's true, I tell ya.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffJGJppvq9xhEPQtg4sXiRqAvOuE-ICcW1CxawYTOrvckWPnBBp4SxNgycvJ1m7bDHBJZFkvRLNL_Gx9BlS5z7JIf3-VzhpslKABU05ehAODRhzBn7yoHMSEZJFnuMd49s_72lCLAVMU/s1600-h/IMG_9825.JPG"><span style="color:#6600cc;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322565847316198434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffJGJppvq9xhEPQtg4sXiRqAvOuE-ICcW1CxawYTOrvckWPnBBp4SxNgycvJ1m7bDHBJZFkvRLNL_Gx9BlS5z7JIf3-VzhpslKABU05ehAODRhzBn7yoHMSEZJFnuMd49s_72lCLAVMU/s320/IMG_9825.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">One of our biggest battles, is getting the girl to keep her bedroom clean. I don't expect perfection, I don't expect the nazi-type organization that I prefer for myself, (please don't check my house for proof!), I just expect to have a decent size pathway from the door to her bed. At the LEAST. Before you form an opinion, I know she's fours years old. I know four year olds aren't necessarily very tidy. I completely get that. But this? This was out of control. The mess was flowing into the hallway and the upstairs bathroom and it was time to call it quits. </span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Whenever she's asked to clean her room, It's the same old six step process each time.</span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Step #1 - She makes a mess of unimaginable proportions.</span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Step #2 - We're on her case to clean it for days on end.</span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Step #3 - She refuses to clean it</span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Step #4 - Mom spends hours cleaning and organizing and silently cursing along the way.</span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Step #5 - The afternoon ends with me threatening, "Kaitlynn, I'm not going to do this again. If you don't keep your room clean, next time you are going to have to clean all by yourself." </span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Step #6 - Lather. Rinse. Repeat.</span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">She knows how to play the game. She knows I'm going to break down and do it for her because I can't stand the clutter; especially when company is on his/her way. Hubby and I have been on her for almost a week now, to clean up the disaster that was (notice the use of past tense?!) her bedroom. She wouldn't do it. This past Saturday she stayed in her room until 2 p.m. and was not allowed to come out until she had made some progress. No dice. I finally had to let her out of the cage because we had a photo session scheduled with our photographer at 4 p.m. Fine, she won that one (again). She spent Sunday morning secluded in there also. Every now and then we'll send big brother Andrew in there to help her out, mostly for motivation. But that scenario just ends in him working, while she enjoys the scenery. Today.. it changed.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Today after awaking, I explained that she had one hour to make an effort on her bedroom. I just needed to see that she was at least <em>trying</em>. If I returned, and it was in the same shape as when I left, her room would be inundated with trash bags. And as you might guess, that's exactly how the story goes. I gave her a warning every 5 minutes, starting a half hour later, letting her know that that test time was almost expired. And an hour later, it was in the same, if not worse shape than when we started. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">I stuck to my word this time and pulled a Dr. Phil. I'm not even the biggest fan of Dr. Phil. He's a bit pompous and self absorbed as far as I can tell. Or at least he comes off that way on television each afternoon. But his philosophy goes something like this: if you're having trouble with your children start handing out tough love. Take everything out of their room that is not a neccesity and they will have the opportunity to earn it back later. So that's exactly what I did this morning. I still can't believe I had the... guts? to do it. I had been wanting to do it for many days, but couldn't get past the fact that this would most likely create even more mess because I'd have to store a year's worth of stuffed trash bags in some other area of our home.</span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">So off I went, my box Costco-sized box of garbage bags in hand, secretly moping on my way upstairs because I just knew this would be harder on me than it was on her. And wouldn't you know? She happily filled the trash bags with me. With a smile on her face. No crying. No, "Please, Mommy don't!" No, "You're the worst mother, I hate you!" I mean, I would have taken THAT over a chipper Kaitlynn throwing all her toys in the bag! I think she knows me better than I could ever imagine. Still, I stuck to my guns. I couldnt remove her toy box, book shelf, kitchen or vanity because they are just too big and bulky for me to carry downstairs on my own. (Cory is on the East Coast this week) But every stuffed animal, electronic toy, piece of dress up jewelry, Mr. Potato Head is now residing in our garage for Idon'tknowhowlong. Kaitlynn's got about 20 pairs of shoes thanks to her older cousin's hand-me-downs, and I even took those. I left her with a bed, her clothing, one blanket, one pillow and one pair of shoes. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">She was also forced to spend the day in her room, doing nothing.. since that's what she does when I ask her to clean up after herself anyway, it really was just more of the same. She came out for each meal and to use the restroom and to floss and brush her chompers before bed. And of course, in true Kaitlynn style, she's still as bubbly and happy as always. I swear it's just to make my blood boil just one degree more. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Next order of business - when and how should she earn her toys back?</span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#6600cc;">Disclaimer - I'm ready for criticism. I can feel that many will think I'm being too harsh on my four year old. But be forewarned that I don't get offended very easily.</span></div><div></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">AND - Don't forget to enter my first contest and giveaway. Just scroll down to the previous post and enter your guess in the comments section. 48 hours to deadline!</span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-60896148696082911782009-04-06T22:25:00.000-07:002009-04-08T23:14:19.593-07:00Contest!<span style="color:#993399;"><strong>I can say with confidence that exactly one year ago, I was probably doing the same thing I'm doing this evening, at this same time - wondering where in the heck my husband and I are going for our anniversary weekend getaway. Just as last year, it's a surprise!! I don't know WHERE we're going, who's watching my kids or what we're doing while we're there. </strong><br /><strong>So how about a contest?!? Whichever reader's guess is closest to the actual location that we visit, will win (drumroll please!) .....................something created with my own two hands. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Here are the clues:</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>It's not in California</strong><br /><strong>It's not in Nevada</strong><br /><strong>We are not flying</strong><br /><strong>It's a lengthy drive</strong><br /><strong>We're not leaving the country</strong><br /><strong>We're departing 8 a.m. on Saturday morning</strong><br /><strong>We're returning Tuesday sometime.</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>I don't have a weather forecast or ANY other clues to give out! You must guess a particular CITY AND STATE to be entered into the contest. One entry per reader please. Leave your answer as a comment on this blog post. Contest ends at 11:59 p.m. on Friday, April 10th, 2009.</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#993399;">DISCLAIMER - if you are a friend or family member of mine that already KNOWS the actual location, you are not eligible to participate in this contest.</span> </strong>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-30821345987492555202009-03-23T20:16:00.001-07:002009-03-23T20:17:06.343-07:00Prayer Warriors!!PLEASE Keep this family in your prayers! <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/"><strong>Baby Stellan</strong></a>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-84442139615805886912009-03-17T21:08:00.000-07:002009-03-17T21:56:08.653-07:00When the Cat's Away, The Mice Will Play.<strong>HELLLLOOOOO?! Anyone out there? I know it's been an insanely long time since I've put any effort into posting a worthy blog. So here goes!<br /><br /><br /></strong><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><strong>On March 7th, I got an ENTIRE DAY away from the same ol', same ol'. Seven of my friends and myself hopped into a Superstretch Limosuine and took off for Paso Robles! We visited six different wineries and now I'm pretty sure I won't need any more wine until Thanksgiving 2010......... or so. Our driver, Joel, (the best EVER!) first took us to EOS. I didn't necessarily like their wine (which isn't saying much since I don't favor wine anyway) but their gift shop had amazing food! I ended up leaving EOS with their Artichoke Salsa and Chipotle Mustard. </strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>Next we visited the Derby winery, which I kid you not, was basically inside a double wide trailer. Our wine pourer was super patient but I'm pretty sure none of us bought any of their wine. </strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>The first highlight of the day was at Tobin James! The atmosphere in their tasting room is sensational! I didn't buy any wine there either (surprise, surprise) but we had a TON of fun. They had great music playing and amazing personalities serving up the good stuff. Towards the end of our visit, Tobin James himself made a visit to the tasting room. He gave out autographs and took pictures with us, plus made us a special "Toby-Tini. Yum! At this point, a few of us (no names mentioned) are starting to feel a bit tipsy. It didn't take much consiering none of us had eaten unless you count the junk food back in the limosuine. </strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>Highlight number two of the day was the Bianchi winery. WOW. The tasting room is magnificent! Absolutely gorgeous! Our attendant Samantha was incredibly nice, personable and knowledgeable too! We spent quite a bit of time at Bianchi. Next time, assuming there is one, I'm bringing lunch. They have tables and chairs out on the patio, right next to the koi pond (where you can feed the fish)! Oh it was PERFECT! </strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>Towards the end we stopped at Clautiere. That's a wild and crazy winery. The crazy wigs and funky hats will definitely lighten you up if you're still feeling stiff. This is the only place that I actually found a wine I liked, a Red Port to be exact. Totally weird for me. </strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>And lastly was Eberle. Ummm not sure what to say about this place? Except that the service wasn't very friendly and the room was not relaxed at all. If you're a wine snob, you should fit in fine ;) We did take the "Cave Tour" at Eberle. That was kind of neat but if I remember right, I'm pretty sure none of us paid much attention. We were exhausted and STILL starving. </strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>Anyway, we finished off the day with dinner at a Mexican buffet and although it had putrid bathrooms, I thought the food was Nummy-Nums. We then began our 2 hour drive home. Let me just say that wine, hunger, limosuines and long car rides didn't mix so well for most of our tummies. SO MUCH FUN THOUGH and TOTALLY NEEDED!</strong></div><br /><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimmOyvT138HDL1hT6GyNvOerX5m_wAYIDPHXsSwDoZQjquox-IyOyqWKDBdmSCTYawCkTAkjCdtyMR7poMmLrkh_WQgxeFDFqGbHeTX7lMN7lbxNCK0L5NgvtWvY_LTchAxZwq33rzwrs/s1600-h/100_3256.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314379327634064946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimmOyvT138HDL1hT6GyNvOerX5m_wAYIDPHXsSwDoZQjquox-IyOyqWKDBdmSCTYawCkTAkjCdtyMR7poMmLrkh_WQgxeFDFqGbHeTX7lMN7lbxNCK0L5NgvtWvY_LTchAxZwq33rzwrs/s320/100_3256.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong>Billie Lynn and Me at EOS.<br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9MxpZaH3m_nnSt6nDFcOjpt69abEf2eZ5PDxQHJ74ttc4I1lgogcFeHsLwtDqWYWPWeo2QkTzc6oHFbvC7h_sSLHyJXVp761FQ03Wbb-2RNr2cox-MSeGLP_SuShpDmoo91xJUQ5qkg/s1600-h/100_3266.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314379333583405170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9MxpZaH3m_nnSt6nDFcOjpt69abEf2eZ5PDxQHJ74ttc4I1lgogcFeHsLwtDqWYWPWeo2QkTzc6oHFbvC7h_sSLHyJXVp761FQ03Wbb-2RNr2cox-MSeGLP_SuShpDmoo91xJUQ5qkg/s320/100_3266.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a></div><br /><br /><div><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><br /><strong>I can't for the life of me remember the name of this winery, (just remembered it was called Derby!!) but they were rockin' the double wide!<br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWTe1Jyh6jMGU1YMlE6we8MOmjJ0wwHfcVtEzk0WPEVJDVcAC4X65J1O5BLbEvdezq8tyR88kyeIZA0u-gqDpxkmey5-IMqAck6xqc5trOrGuh91WV3pWTbxSeg9ZI_uQl2GxxUvTXAg/s1600-h/100_3271.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314379335673501922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWTe1Jyh6jMGU1YMlE6we8MOmjJ0wwHfcVtEzk0WPEVJDVcAC4X65J1O5BLbEvdezq8tyR88kyeIZA0u-gqDpxkmey5-IMqAck6xqc5trOrGuh91WV3pWTbxSeg9ZI_uQl2GxxUvTXAg/s320/100_3271.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><strong>Picture above - Our group at Tobin James Winery!</strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbz-D0i33r5nobW6wPkwzXrgtatATkIwUVgejvXdyU5yKNWWLLsWVtOuxef6CDrqN5EXXAOk0SCesllJl7xFaPn7zWD_-gP-WPacpT5wojTltQugsGcm3om0iz_SnBpZAWmOB4P55j4XU/s1600-h/100_3277.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314379341003499010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbz-D0i33r5nobW6wPkwzXrgtatATkIwUVgejvXdyU5yKNWWLLsWVtOuxef6CDrqN5EXXAOk0SCesllJl7xFaPn7zWD_-gP-WPacpT5wojTltQugsGcm3om0iz_SnBpZAWmOB4P55j4XU/s320/100_3277.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a></div><br /><br /><div><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><strong>Toby himself autographing merchandise for us!</strong></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLkIKubeRqw65BnZYkYIYU4LSBHbDBdScl1ZQrE6dADMrM7sE6rAP_j39vdmWD4R1r1lO11b2C-UWh3tzoVKt8ZGl7H5dAJ0oBK2Rao8GV9U6VlIekyHhkb-3hXZpliwPzhBHXo8b_GaA/s1600-h/100_3304.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314385528716566290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLkIKubeRqw65BnZYkYIYU4LSBHbDBdScl1ZQrE6dADMrM7sE6rAP_j39vdmWD4R1r1lO11b2C-UWh3tzoVKt8ZGl7H5dAJ0oBK2Rao8GV9U6VlIekyHhkb-3hXZpliwPzhBHXo8b_GaA/s320/100_3304.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>Clautiere - this is what you get when you ask Mom's to act like Rockstars. I think I could pull off the gig quite well if this Stay At Home Mom thing ends up not working out.</strong></div><br /><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJsyo9lTh5zu1eUddHyxVjCYIXdwhNPFC8MMzMgHf-_rTaMXb7xvUM80xDYVckzzm8_bib0x8b4z3t1TrNIPPmbm_GeIcVKe_sZYjYj5DnFd7zHG688pNr6yqivC3FHAWlkSS0EbHmOII/s1600-h/100_3311.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314381605492870946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJsyo9lTh5zu1eUddHyxVjCYIXdwhNPFC8MMzMgHf-_rTaMXb7xvUM80xDYVckzzm8_bib0x8b4z3t1TrNIPPmbm_GeIcVKe_sZYjYj5DnFd7zHG688pNr6yqivC3FHAWlkSS0EbHmOII/s320/100_3311.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a><strong><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong>The cave tour at Eberle. As I said - some of us weren't too much into it (ERIKA!)</strong></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju3za5CmuOPPhcvyNgfzd8xPrCBS3meTEvH0Yi7ymftDZ_Mi3DIcChkB6nJtOpbFDpQ2eq65CCEw_zYmULzqZ0gCE6xaRCIOqJlxF-rWk-cH7Yo0xztvuj1CZa7RZJz6akmGlusSMsKoE/s1600-h/bianchi.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314381598520186770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju3za5CmuOPPhcvyNgfzd8xPrCBS3meTEvH0Yi7ymftDZ_Mi3DIcChkB6nJtOpbFDpQ2eq65CCEw_zYmULzqZ0gCE6xaRCIOqJlxF-rWk-cH7Yo0xztvuj1CZa7RZJz6akmGlusSMsKoE/s320/bianchi.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong>The beautiful Bianchi room! Highly recommend it!</strong></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutdgVWou6AXtczaPrS5zLLVNd1FJjt2pdlb9SQYycaNm3MW17RHzJcPFCuPgN7J4gE9lwwkJEZC5zFFocmYac9C_WIgRwM515loWiQKlymnHBUJrzkZAtzHHqnaHAmqiO4wURPcQRoKg/s1600-h/eberle.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314381603129183842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutdgVWou6AXtczaPrS5zLLVNd1FJjt2pdlb9SQYycaNm3MW17RHzJcPFCuPgN7J4gE9lwwkJEZC5zFFocmYac9C_WIgRwM515loWiQKlymnHBUJrzkZAtzHHqnaHAmqiO4wURPcQRoKg/s320/eberle.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong>Smaller picture, but this is the giant swine at Eberle - kinda like their mascot.</strong></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdXCRFItFoC6F0uH4f_UMYPZhqO-AVQf5GN12BiPz_Qia6SkVyjnm8AZDdbd9QP_yCa1fN_K7ATx0rLk-REDOLVE6JFuyar9EZJWA-b4Pa1yG8-eE7Ec_VGJ1M_SPNOh9JCiq6MVFQ6P4/s1600-h/winenight.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314381603288388562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdXCRFItFoC6F0uH4f_UMYPZhqO-AVQf5GN12BiPz_Qia6SkVyjnm8AZDdbd9QP_yCa1fN_K7ATx0rLk-REDOLVE6JFuyar9EZJWA-b4Pa1yG8-eE7Ec_VGJ1M_SPNOh9JCiq6MVFQ6P4/s320/winenight.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>Another tiny one - Our last picture of the day!</strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong>I have a TON of pictures that are so fun but couldn't post them all on this blog. You can visit my Facebook page </strong><a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/profile.php?id=718077312&v=photos&so=0"><strong>HERE</strong></a><strong> if you want to sneak a peek!</strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong>As for the title of my blog - I got a text message from my husband in the middle of the day saying something to the effect of "I'm so sorry, it wasn't my fault, You're going to be so mad, but it wasn't my fault!" And this is what I found when I arrived home that Saturday night - </strong></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWiO1MjX8DwIj_Eyceu0OMBUq_qVOp_eIFTHRi5T55B5_fuEwPL5CCZFwjgEpfmYZ-wbr5479kz_JwUcPJ-GBZFyAZoBbGsIsNoDrDmKZ6K-18AglIQICl3Y3BO5ilHzxEGnOdF-YnLs/s1600-h/IMG_0092.JPG"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314378352426202242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWiO1MjX8DwIj_Eyceu0OMBUq_qVOp_eIFTHRi5T55B5_fuEwPL5CCZFwjgEpfmYZ-wbr5479kz_JwUcPJ-GBZFyAZoBbGsIsNoDrDmKZ6K-18AglIQICl3Y3BO5ilHzxEGnOdF-YnLs/s320/IMG_0092.JPG" border="0" /></strong></a><strong><br /><br /></strong></div><br /><br /><p align="center"><strong>On the left side there - you'll see a lock of hair from the High School Musical Gabriella doll. And just off to the right of that mess, you'll see what used to be my daughter's bangs that took a year or two to grow out. We may have a future hair stylist though, she couldn't have picked a better place to cut!</strong></p></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-1764942492563988072009-03-16T10:04:00.001-07:002009-03-16T10:04:57.659-07:00<strong>My baby sister Jamie is currently training for the "Rock & Roll Marathon" in Seattle, Wa on June 27th, 2009. All funds raised will benefit The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. The Leukemia & Lymphoma Sociey is a national voluntary health agency dedicated to curing Leukemia, Lymphoma, Hodgkin's disease and Myeloma and improving the quality of life for patients and their families. This cause is very near and dear to our family and we would love if YOU could be a part of it! Her Inland Empire Marathon Team will be running for a 5 year old boy named Micah Brown. Jamie's personal honoree is our cousin Paul who had Non-Hodgkins B-Cell Lymphoma. Any donation you are able to make is 100% tax deductible! (LLS TAX ID#13-5644916) Jamie's personal goal is to raise $5000.00! You can donate to the cause and view her fundraising progress at </strong><a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/ocie/rnrseatl09/jpellettera" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><strong>http://pages.teamintraining.org/ocie/rnrseatl09/jpellettera</strong></a><strong>. No amount is too small!! THANK YOU in advance for any way you can help!</strong>Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-30315031062179613462009-02-01T10:01:00.000-08:002009-02-01T10:36:31.009-08:00I'm It.8 Things about me:<br /><br />1. I love to be outdoors.<br />2. I desire to live a more simple life.<br />3. I'm a terrible, unsuccessful dieter.<br />4. I can't remember the last time I was caught up on laundry.<br />5. When it comes to meat, turkey and chicken are it for me.<br />6. I can't watch America's Most Wanted or Golden Girls. They make me scared and sad.<br />7. I am being 100% honest when I say I could live off of Mexican food for the rest of mylife.<br />8. My skills in Geography aren't what I would call stellar.<br /><br /><br />8 TV Shows I watch:<br /><br />1. Desperate Housewives!<br />2. Brothers and Sisters!<br />3. True Life<br />4. The Soup<br />5. The People's Court<br />6. Housewives of Orange County<br />7. Whatever is on Fox News<br />8. Oprah/Dr. Phil occasionally<br /><br /><br />8 Restaurants I love<br /><br />1. Chevy's<br />2. Del Taco<br />3. Mimi's Cafe<br />4. PF Chang's<br />5. Rubio's<br />6. Baja Fresh<br />7. Chipotle (see a theme?)<br />8. Chile Red (back home.)<br /><br /><br />8 Things that Happened Today<br /><br />1. Made waffles and oatmeal.<br />2. Finalized Superbowl plans.<br />3. Woke up MUCH earlier than I would have liked.<br />4. Picked up 2 bedrooms and a kitchen.<br />5. Tied ribbons in Kaitlynn and Samantha's hair<br />6. Rolled up a sleeping bag.<br />7. Wiped Mitchell's nose.<br />8. Consoled a bumped head.<br /><br /><br />8 Things I look forward to<br /><br />1. Kaitlynn's 1st trip to Disneyland on Thursday!<br />2. Riding my new NEW bike.<br />3. Maybe buying a new table today?<br />4. Wrapping Kaitlynn's birthday gifts.<br />5. Watching her open them.<br />6. Seeing Andrew do his 1st book report.<br />7. Taking family pics on Sunday.<br />8. Eating the leftover pizza from last night.<br /><br /><br />8 Things I wish for<br /><br />1. Continued Health for our family.<br />2. More time with extended family.<br />3. Happy children.<br />4. Happier husband.<br />5. To get to buy a car because I like it, not because of it's "function".<br />6. A cleaner house this year.<br />7. A cure for cancer.<br />8. Happiness for my friends!<br /><br /><br /><br />8 Songs I just listened to<br /><br />1. The Barney theme song.<br />2. Grover singing about jumping.<br />3. The song Mitchell played on the recorder.<br />4. Samantha playing the toy piano.<br />5. The Barbie Girl song.<br />6. Bird is the Werd.<br />7. Sesame Street theme song.<br />8. Russia's National Anthem.<br /><br /><br />8 Favorite Movies<br /><br />1. Clueless<br />2. Ace Ventura: Pet Detective<br />3. House Bunny<br />4. Forgetting Sarah Marshall<br />5. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation<br />6. The Wizard of Oz<br />7. Aladdin<br />8. Dirty Dancing<br /><br /> 8 people I tag for this<br /><br />1. Billie Lynn<br />2. Christy H.<br />3. Amy Jo.<br />4. Erin S.<br />5. Tanya G.<br />6. Kati W.<br />7. Crap..<br />8. Ran out of blogs to tag.Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-75621015701936336552009-01-12T21:46:00.000-08:002009-01-12T21:47:54.833-08:00Weight Watchers Overload??You know your diet has taken over your house when your six year old asks at dinner:<br /><br />"Mom, How many points do I have left for today???"Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-864617854628571271.post-33452492236912758502009-01-11T20:19:00.000-08:002009-01-11T20:44:10.031-08:00Lay the Blame on Hubby.Mitchell must have been about 6 months old when he showed the first signs of exema. It started in small circular shaped patches on his legs, and I was convinced it was ringworm. We visited he's pediatrician's office and were told not to worry, it was just sensitive skin. The instructions given were to moisturize immediately after bathtime and to use OTC Hydrocortisone cream. Between 6 months old and 14 months old, we visited the doctor for the same reason approximately 138 times.... well it felt like that anyway. An online pediatric dermatologist explained to me that he probably had what is called Numular Exema. In human terms, that basically means it's exema, in circles. If you were to google Numular Exema, you would find that it's more comming in males, aged 55 and older. ... hmmm... makes no sense to me at all why my 1 year old would be plagued with this. Eventually he developed it on his chest and soon after, his chin. We were able to get the breakout on his chest under control, but not without a bout of staph infection in the meantime. His chin on the other hand..... it wasn't so lucky. The rash would itch, he would scratch, it would bleed. During our Thanksgiving day drive down to Rancho Cucamonga, we had to stop halfway to clean him up. His hands, chin and face were spotted with blood.. more than I would have expected to see from a rash. I was told it would most likely be that way until his molars finished coming in, at which time he'd stop drowning in his baby drool. We began putting vaseline on it a few times a day which really seemed to help protect his skin from the excess moisture.<br />The one time in Fall that I took him to the doctor for something OTHER than his chin, was when I was told that the exema had turned into cellulitis. Mind you, this is a couple of months after his first visit for the "chin problems". I was given an antibiotic and a regimen for his creams.. then VOILA! it disappears. FINALLY. However, in the midst of all that mess, I got the courage to ask for a referral to Dr. Leung who has been seeing Andrew for his allergies since he was four years old. Seeing as they don't recommend testing for allergies until the baby is 18 months old, I was very surprised when my request was granted. <br />We started with a blood draw. All of the results came back negative when testing for allergies to common foods. This would seem to be good news, but unfortunately, the blood tests are very inaccurate. This past Friday morning, Cory was able to 'work from home' so that he could accompany me to Mitchell's appointment for skin testing. Andrew had the same barrage of tests done on him a couple of Summers ago, so I knew what to expect.... and I knew it wouldn't be pretty. Mitchell didn't do so bad when they rolled the pad of pokey needles across his back three times. The hell for him came when we made him sit still for 15 minutes while we waited to see his body's reaction to each part of the skin test. <br />Anyway - the whole point of this blog is to keep our family and friends updated.. so here's an update:<br />Mitchell as of now is allergic to different dusts and molds. Not surprising considering Daddy and Brother's allergies. He also shows a sensitivity to eggs, but the allergist said it's not <em>quite </em>bad enough to firmly label it as an allergy yet. The test for different types of nuts came back negative, HOWEVER, since Andrew is allergic to peanuts (and it is a very difficult allergy to outgrow) we were advised that Mitchell is not to eat any food containing nuts. Our pediatrician months ago had suggested keeping him off of peanuts until 3 years old so we knew it'd be awhile before he could enjoy a good ol' american PB&J sandwich. Now, who knows when he'll get to delve into the creamy, fruity goodness. <br /><br />As for Andrew, he has a follow up appointment on Tuesday morning with Dr. Leung. After his last set of skin tests it was determined he was allergic to many, many different types of weeds and trees (Cory's fault!), peanuts, eggs, chicken, soy, cow's milk, dogs, cats and fire ants (of which I have seen first hand). Hopefully the insurance company will authorize another skin testing once again for Andrew so that we can find out if I can go back to packing PB&J for lunch each day!<br /><br />When it comes to Kaitlynn, well, she's as healthy as any parent could wish for. No allergies, no injuries, no hospitalizations... Like Mother, Like Daughter.Christina Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630231800876276176noreply@blogger.com0