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Post by Anne, Old S'cubie Cat on Sept 19, 2010 17:45:03 GMT -5
I sincerely think that at the end of this year's experiment you ought to go through ALL your bird photos and publish a coffee table book with a few hundred of the best. These are as good or better than most of the professional ones I've ever seen outside of National Geographic! This is more or less what I keep saying - Sara, you should at the least submit some of them to nature magazines. Diane, your previous post... at first I read "public" as "pubic". I'm not sure if my brain is not working at all, or working too well.
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Post by Sara on Sept 19, 2010 18:17:19 GMT -5
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Post by Anne, Old S'cubie Cat on Sept 19, 2010 18:41:28 GMT -5
Blorgle. I have vacuumed most of the house, except for the daughters' rooms. It wasn't the most thorough job I've ever done, but it'll do for a while. Also I walked to the market this morning and drove errands, and picked out some likely fabrics for my conversation hearts class, which required moving xerox-paper boxes full of fabric on and off shelves in the cave. I think even my doctor would consider all of that exercise. and also ouch.
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Post by Lola m on Sept 19, 2010 20:57:38 GMT -5
Lovely day today - out to the Arboretum for the Day of Remembrance and Reflection. Gorgeous weather and pretty pretty starting-to-look-Autumn-y-plants.
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Post by Rachael on Sept 20, 2010 8:50:08 GMT -5
Morning, S'cubies! Today is the anniversary of the single most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. A year ago this afternoon (at 1:16, to be precise - do dads ever remember it to the minute?), my daughter Emily was born. In the last year, I've learned so much. Before Emily, I never knew it was possible to love someone enough that you'd throw yourself in front of a bus for them...and you'd drive more carefully even when they're not with you, because they need you so much. Before Emily, I never knew how much my own mother loved me. It's truly amazing to know someone looks at me the way I look at her, and it gives me more confidence in myself than you can possibly imagine. Before Emily, I didn't know if was possible for the universe to have you completely by the short and curlies. If anything EVER happened to that little girl, I'd be finished. It's terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. Before Emily, I never really got that "Mom" is the hardest job in the world. The no-sleep, half the time the no-eat, the constant worrying, the stress, always wondering if you're "doing it right". New self-confidence aside, it's so hard to know if it's the right thing at that moment. As of today, I've breastfed (or pumped milk) for her for an entire year, and it's an accomplishment of which I think I'm justly proud. I'm not a lacto-Nazi by any means, but it did become a bit of an obsession for me - a gift I wanted to give her to start her out in life. But, as of today, I also get to put the pump in the drawer and let her drink cow's milk when we're not together, and I'm also thrilled about THAT. The joy I feel when she smiles at me is incredible - it's like the sun coming out. And it just keeps getting better. And how's your day?
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Post by SpringSummers on Sept 20, 2010 9:26:47 GMT -5
Morning, S'cubies! Today is the anniversary of the single most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. A year ago this afternoon (at 1:16, to be precise - do dads ever remember it to the minute?), my daughter Emily was born. In the last year, I've learned so much. Before Emily, I never knew it was possible to love someone enough that you'd throw yourself in front of a bus for them...and you'd drive more carefully even when they're not with you, because they need you so much. Before Emily, I never knew how much my own mother loved me. It's truly amazing to know someone looks at me the way I look at her, and it gives me more confidence in myself than you can possibly imagine. Before Emily, I didn't know if was possible for the universe to have you completely by the short and curlies. If anything EVER happened to that little girl, I'd be finished. It's terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. Before Emily, I never really got that "Mom" is the hardest job in the world. The no-sleep, half the time the no-eat, the constant worrying, the stress, always wondering if you're "doing it right". New self-confidence aside, it's so hard to know if it's the right thing at that moment. As of today, I've breastfed (or pumped milk) for her for an entire year, and it's an accomplishment of which I think I'm justly proud. I'm not a lacto-Nazi by any means, but it did become a bit of an obsession for me - a gift I wanted to give her to start her out in life. But, as of today, I also get to put the pump in the drawer and let her drink cow's milk when we're not together, and I'm also thrilled about THAT. The joy I feel when she smiles at me is incredible - it's like the sun coming out. And it just keeps getting better. And how's your day? Beautifully, beautifully said, Rachael. As far as my day goes, well it just got better, somehow.
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Post by Karen on Sept 20, 2010 9:56:20 GMT -5
Morning, S'cubies! Today is the anniversary of the single most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. A year ago this afternoon (at 1:16, to be precise - do dads ever remember it to the minute?), my daughter Emily was born. In the last year, I've learned so much. Before Emily, I never knew it was possible to love someone enough that you'd throw yourself in front of a bus for them...and you'd drive more carefully even when they're not with you, because they need you so much. Before Emily, I never knew how much my own mother loved me. It's truly amazing to know someone looks at me the way I look at her, and it gives me more confidence in myself than you can possibly imagine. Before Emily, I didn't know if was possible for the universe to have you completely by the short and curlies. If anything EVER happened to that little girl, I'd be finished. It's terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. Before Emily, I never really got that "Mom" is the hardest job in the world. The no-sleep, half the time the no-eat, the constant worrying, the stress, always wondering if you're "doing it right". New self-confidence aside, it's so hard to know if it's the right thing at that moment. As of today, I've breastfed (or pumped milk) for her for an entire year, and it's an accomplishment of which I think I'm justly proud. I'm not a lacto-Nazi by any means, but it did become a bit of an obsession for me - a gift I wanted to give her to start her out in life. But, as of today, I also get to put the pump in the drawer and let her drink cow's milk when we're not together, and I'm also thrilled about THAT. The joy I feel when she smiles at me is incredible - it's like the sun coming out. And it just keeps getting better. And how's your day? So very cool...... and thanks for spreading the joy, Rachael!! Happy Birthday, Emily!
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Post by Karen on Sept 20, 2010 10:01:48 GMT -5
Yeah. The one time I tried making them, they came out a bit heavy. The recipes are similar to pie crust or crumb topping in technique. Not much mixing, and you cut/rub the butter into the dry ingredients. I've never tried to perfect them, but it might be worth the effort. When we were in Siesta Key three years ago, we stumbled upon a tea and scone cafe on the beach on the last day we were there. Their scones were awesome. Blueberry. Light and melt in your mouth. Perfect with tea. I wish we would've found the place on the first day. I would've spend every morning there. Bit of England in Florida. Hmmm. Well - I do know one English guy around here. I don't know him that well. I wonder if he'd mind taste testing. . . let's see, how do I approach this . . . "Uh, Clive*, would you mind tasting my scone? I'm worried it is too moist." That might work, I guess. *not his real nameWhy stand on ceremony at this late date? Just go up to him, flash your scones, and say Clive*, I need help perfecting my scones...they seem a little flat to me...." *if that's not his real name, it should be...
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Post by Karen on Sept 20, 2010 10:03:47 GMT -5
Oh, speaking of boobies and all....congrats on breastfeeding for a full year, Rachael! Chris, I only did for 9 months, but the other two for a full 12 or 13 months...and they didn't have the allergy and digestive upsets that Chris did on and off his whole life. Especially, ear infections for the first 5 years. Emily will thank you someday! For a lot of stuff.
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Post by Sara on Sept 20, 2010 10:04:47 GMT -5
Morning, S'cubies! Today is the anniversary of the single most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. A year ago this afternoon (at 1:16, to be precise - do dads ever remember it to the minute?), my daughter Emily was born. In the last year, I've learned so much. Before Emily, I never knew it was possible to love someone enough that you'd throw yourself in front of a bus for them...and you'd drive more carefully even when they're not with you, because they need you so much. Before Emily, I never knew how much my own mother loved me. It's truly amazing to know someone looks at me the way I look at her, and it gives me more confidence in myself than you can possibly imagine. Before Emily, I didn't know if was possible for the universe to have you completely by the short and curlies. If anything EVER happened to that little girl, I'd be finished. It's terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. Before Emily, I never really got that "Mom" is the hardest job in the world. The no-sleep, half the time the no-eat, the constant worrying, the stress, always wondering if you're "doing it right". New self-confidence aside, it's so hard to know if it's the right thing at that moment. As of today, I've breastfed (or pumped milk) for her for an entire year, and it's an accomplishment of which I think I'm justly proud. I'm not a lacto-Nazi by any means, but it did become a bit of an obsession for me - a gift I wanted to give her to start her out in life. But, as of today, I also get to put the pump in the drawer and let her drink cow's milk when we're not together, and I'm also thrilled about THAT. The joy I feel when she smiles at me is incredible - it's like the sun coming out. And it just keeps getting better. And how's your day? Reading this was an absolutely outstanding way to start the day. Thank you.
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Post by SpringSummers on Sept 20, 2010 10:05:16 GMT -5
Hmmm. Well - I do know one English guy around here. I don't know him that well. I wonder if he'd mind taste testing. . . let's see, how do I approach this . . . "Uh, Clive*, would you mind tasting my scone? I'm worried it is too moist." That might work, I guess. *not his real nameWhy stand on ceremony at this late date? Just go up to him, flash your scones, and say Clive*, I need help perfecting my scones...they seem a little flat to me...." *if that's not his real name, it should be... I know. His name really should be Clive. I think I will just start calling him that.
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Post by Karen on Sept 20, 2010 10:06:19 GMT -5
Lovely day today - out to the Arboretum for the Day of Remembrance and Reflection. Gorgeous weather and pretty pretty starting-to-look-Autumn-y-plants. It was a beautiful Sunday! Lucas's party went really well, even with half his family missing. He played well with his cousins, we jumped on the trampoline, and ate cake and hot dogs. Opening presents took FOREVER, tho. Lucas wanted to play with each toy and read each book before opening another.
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Post by SpringSummers on Sept 20, 2010 10:10:35 GMT -5
Morning, S'cubies! Today is the anniversary of the single most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. A year ago this afternoon (at 1:16, to be precise - do dads ever remember it to the minute?), my daughter Emily was born. In the last year, I've learned so much. Before Emily, I never knew it was possible to love someone enough that you'd throw yourself in front of a bus for them...and you'd drive more carefully even when they're not with you, because they need you so much.<snip> And how's your day? On this one, I just want to add that even more revealing for me, when I first became a mom, was learning that it was possible to love someone enough that I'd throw someone else in front of a bus for them, if I had to. I mean - the violence, the ferocity of the feelings - wow. I knew I'd die for my kid, but I also knew - yes, I'd kill for my kid.
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Post by Julia, wrought iron-y on Sept 20, 2010 10:14:20 GMT -5
Happy birthday to Emily, and happiness to all of us on this last day of Summer.
Julia, in a bit of a swivet as My Cousin the Biker will be here early to talk about destruction and construction and then Sam and I heading to Seattle to see Franklin
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Post by Rachael on Sept 20, 2010 10:14:41 GMT -5
Morning, S'cubies! Today is the anniversary of the single most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. A year ago this afternoon (at 1:16, to be precise - do dads ever remember it to the minute?), my daughter Emily was born. In the last year, I've learned so much. Before Emily, I never knew it was possible to love someone enough that you'd throw yourself in front of a bus for them...and you'd drive more carefully even when they're not with you, because they need you so much.<snip> And how's your day? On this one, I just want to add that even more revealing for me, when I first became a mom, was learning that it was possible to love someone enough that I'd throw someone else in front of a bus for them, if I had to. I mean - the violence, the ferocity of the feelings - wow. I knew I'd die for my kid, but I also knew - yes, I'd kill for my kid. This, too.
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