tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51398149415667521182024-03-05T04:28:53.228-08:00My Ice Cream DiaryIce Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.comBlogger468125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-41725451329884491512014-03-14T04:14:00.001-07:002014-03-14T05:05:54.792-07:00Fried Power Port Samsung Galaxy S4Last night Sweet Terror came into our bedroom and asked us to check all the smoke alarms. She was terrified that there would be a fire while we were sleeping. I kept asking her why she was suddenly so scared but she had no answer. We checked the alarm, showed her our fire escape plan, she said a prayer and we all went back to bed. This morning I couldn't get the charger to come out of my phone and then realized it was because it had melted into the phone. There are melty burnt marks all around the charging port. Sometimes I fall asleep while reading on my phone and it ends up under my pillow. I'm so glad I put it on the end table (with the charging port hanging off the edge, like I've been told to do) before falling asleep or Sweet Terror's fear may have become a reality!<br />
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Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-32483390373216419922013-05-08T00:48:00.001-07:002013-05-08T00:48:17.266-07:00Lazy day<p dir="ltr">Today is a lazy rainy day.</p>
<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyeFwIO67c05Gvanonp4WXtG0n49tJF7b20c85g8zWmx6hL81JQkiYQFPRRO378uM-RJx6dtJb4uno4nZ5IS1yo24P6bMl9_9nHTPTMVQYNV_YB07Up_-H8a2ANyoTzn3JHBQGGdi_Thg/s1600/1367999192004.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyeFwIO67c05Gvanonp4WXtG0n49tJF7b20c85g8zWmx6hL81JQkiYQFPRRO378uM-RJx6dtJb4uno4nZ5IS1yo24P6bMl9_9nHTPTMVQYNV_YB07Up_-H8a2ANyoTzn3JHBQGGdi_Thg/s640/1367999192004.jpg' /> </a> </div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-54311824653135550012012-04-22T18:53:00.001-07:002012-04-22T18:53:53.884-07:00We Will Stand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziP8hvlxXGljIl5719xwS9gGUgVSq06D0lKTXKKCRAAkZYbPFyFne2AsiX5wCrr8Z71P1HEuPCJQZUCgviScxaIFuZGxzzk6-hhJJqeUFgoV2JfzPz9OC13AuD2CLD0ys_EqKFYW3Vg4/s1600/We+will+stand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziP8hvlxXGljIl5719xwS9gGUgVSq06D0lKTXKKCRAAkZYbPFyFne2AsiX5wCrr8Z71P1HEuPCJQZUCgviScxaIFuZGxzzk6-hhJJqeUFgoV2JfzPz9OC13AuD2CLD0ys_EqKFYW3Vg4/s400/We+will+stand.jpg" /></a></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-22073203497602607682011-09-02T09:06:00.000-07:002011-09-02T09:11:21.086-07:00All About Pablo<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">At my kids' middle school, every year I am asked to write a paper about my child for the teachers to better know them. This is the one I wrote for Pablo</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> this year. (Mind you these are always written last minute because my homework skills are the same as they were when I was in school.)</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;">
<br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdECMn3vWUWGgcgIn0sfod7K1FCXVx15ZhezPUU1pWaiS4iGoE1Dm5FqQ_eGxwNT0Gwdke3QNMAxU6nsg9IVkldtNWUS_Eb0MSwuJgawjl5KkkrwNWYaZylnuRo8lGf06WFjpzgXEoMb8/s1600/DAvid+school+pic.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 271px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdECMn3vWUWGgcgIn0sfod7K1FCXVx15ZhezPUU1pWaiS4iGoE1Dm5FqQ_eGxwNT0Gwdke3QNMAxU6nsg9IVkldtNWUS_Eb0MSwuJgawjl5KkkrwNWYaZylnuRo8lGf06WFjpzgXEoMb8/s320/DAvid+school+pic.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647795364877377362" /></a>
<br /><p class="MsoNormal">Pablo is a quiet kid, was quiet even in the womb before he was born.<span> </span>I used to worry about him, but it soon became apparent that he is quiet because he is thinking of amazing things.<span> </span>His brain doesn’t work like most kids.<span> </span>His brain functions much like a computer.<span> </span>If he hasn’t been programmed for the information beforehand it won’t stick, but if you can figure out a way to make it make sense to him, he will never forget it and will understand it in ways most adults never will.<span> </span>Pablo is also a very visual learner/thinker.<span> </span>When I wouldn’t let him play video games he wouldn’t get upset, he just drew his own “video” games on paper.<span> </span>I can’t really explain Pablo to you because I’m still trying to figure him out myself.<span> </span>I know that he tries to do his best.<span> </span>He constantly sets goals for himself and works hard to achieve them.<span> </span>He practices when he feels he can’t do something good enough, and he keeps practicing till he gets it right.<span> </span>Pablo has a special knack for cheering up little children and being friends with mentally handicapped children, because he loves nothing better than to be able to make someone else smile.<span> </span>He sometimes gets teased because he has a hard time understanding senseless cruelty and he doesn’t want to fight back.<span> </span>He tends to see things in black and white and has to have subtleties explained to him in any unfamiliar situation.<span> </span>One could see this as a handicap, but I see it as the trait of a marvelous mind that has the ability to see things others can’t, and I think it could help take him farther in life than most people will be able to, if it is nurtured in the right way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Pablo has a gift for art, and enjoys drawing anytime he can.<span> </span>He is trying his best to only draw when he isn’t working, and has gotten better at that.<span> </span>He has written several comic books and the depth of his thought process in creating them never ceases to amaze me.<span> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My hope for Pablo is that he will continue to gain confidence in his own decision making skills and for others to see his true potential and appreciate it.<span> </span>I know that he will contribute many new and wonderful ideas to the world in his lifetime, and I hope he will always see himself the way I see him.<span> </span><span> </span></p></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-89548650124115361002011-08-31T14:44:00.000-07:002011-08-31T14:56:57.200-07:00Cookie in a Nutshell<div style="text-align: left;">At my kids' middle school, every year I am asked to write a paper about my child for the teachers to better know them. This is the one I wrote for Cookie this year. (Mind you these are always written last minute because my homework skills are the same as they were when I was in school.)</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqd5SYK6OscJFvWIqsvTim7GXnavV1shyphenhyphenQyVpsP2kvvbSGmPGtxqG8Kc0dtasX0uO_TCsurF5DZOGG9jETiCmMJk5YfWAcNZFWm7GRNCV1Z_ekSPYJJAna-M7yjuhNcv3UafN7Qve_naI/s320/Cookie+School+Pic.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647141393524806146" /><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Cookie is a very special person.<span> </span>I’m sure all parents feel that way about their child (as they should), but if you get to know Cookie I think you will see what I mean.<span> </span>She is the oldest of 5 kids, she is my first baby, she is a miniature me (only better than I could ever hope to be).<span> </span>Cookie was born older and more mature than some adults I know.<span> </span>She was smart from the very beginning, speaking early, reading early, and she has a memory that never fails to surprise me.<span> </span>But the extra something special about Cookie is her innate desire to do what she thinks is right.<span> </span>Whether it is being kind to someone who needs a friend, standing up for others, obeying her elders, getting her homework done, or just having fun, she always tries her best to do it “right.”<span> </span>When she was very little I was constantly having to tell her, “Mistakes are good,” because she would get very upset if she couldn’t make her letters just right, or if she colored out of the lines.<span> </span>She’s a lot more relaxed now, but still does her best to do what is important to her.<span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Cookie has set very high standards for herself and refuses to just “go with the flow” if the “flow” goes against those standards.<span> </span>This year she has chosen not to read one of the summer books assigned because it has a lot of bad language in it, but she is willing to read any other book in order to make up for it.<span> </span>Even getting good grades isn’t as important to her as sticking to what she feels is right.<span> </span>I hope, as you get to know her, you can see this side of her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As for her personality, it depends on what side of the coin you see.<span> </span>On one hand, Cookie can be very shy, introverted and quiet.<span> </span>If she doesn’t feel a connection to kids around her she will tend to keep to herself.<span> </span>But if you see her with friends she feels comfortable with you will see the exact opposite.<span> </span>Cookie loves anything that is extremely silly.<span> </span>She loves to laugh and be goofy, she loves to tease and can dish it out as well as take it (if it isn’t mean teasing).<span> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After 2 major moves Cookie was having a hard time feeling like she fit in at school last year.<span> </span>This year she has some friends and I think she is coming out of her shell again and showing a lot more of her true self.<span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">(Tomorrow I will share the one I wrote for Pablo)</p>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-89768231294926009262011-08-30T05:35:00.000-07:002011-08-30T06:01:03.445-07:00Who Needs Flowers?<div>Some husbands bring their wives flowers, but mine brings me something even better. When Mr, Hot wants to cheer me up he brings me bags, yes bags, of Subway White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cookies. Sometimes I think he is trying to make me fat, but sometimes I don't care because I love these cookies. I've tried others out there, I've tried many times to make them myself, but there is nothing quite like the ones you get at Subway.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >.</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEr4OPJ53rLByEeWM5_q2WhbH5i_T4CvymDjaVWsaidirK3aU2YVonWEJlpNsQ3S7FlEzFQKVy6w4ryFXnDzlYgr8Dmz9NzXh8ZSvKJbKSXdQcK8kG9s39y8SPK4YVIV-h8OQJRnNLs84/s1600/wachm.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEr4OPJ53rLByEeWM5_q2WhbH5i_T4CvymDjaVWsaidirK3aU2YVonWEJlpNsQ3S7FlEzFQKVy6w4ryFXnDzlYgr8Dmz9NzXh8ZSvKJbKSXdQcK8kG9s39y8SPK4YVIV-h8OQJRnNLs84/s320/wachm.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646629277422753042" /></a>
<br /><div>Ah, sweet cookiness, I love you so.<div>
<br /></div><div>Well, last night Mr. Hot came home with this little beauty: Blue Bunny White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cookie ice cream. Mmmmmmmm.
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<br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 152px;" src="http://www.bluebunny.com/Content/Products/Images/204x154/841072.jpg" border="0" alt="" />It can't take the place of a Subway cookie, but it still tastes super yummy. Thank you Mr. Hotness, I love you! But, just know, if I don't get the laundry done (yet again), it's your fault because you gave me this and I plan to eat it while watching some cheesy chick-flick today. Any suggestions? </div></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-3159556849272473152011-08-27T07:53:00.000-07:002011-08-27T10:27:58.025-07:00Keeping Up With The Cardassians<a href="http://www.empireonline.com/images/features/50greatesttv/main/37.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.empireonline.com/images/features/50greatesttv/main/37.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>
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<br /></div><div>While flipping channels yesterday I stumbled upon this old friend. Star Trek, The Next Generation was the Star Trek of MY generation. My kids swarmed around me and started asking all sorts of questions.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div>"How can that guy see with that thing on his eyes?"</div><div>"Why is that guy all white and shiney?"</div><div>"Hey, that ship looks like <a href="http://cf1.imgobject.com/backdrops/02b/4bc94944017a3c57fe02002b/veggietales-are-you-my-neighbor-original.jpg">U.S.S. Apple-pies</a> from Veggie Tales!" </div><div>"Isn't this that show with the Speck guy?"</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div>Needless to say I was made painfully aware of a lack of Treky education in my home. Somewhere in heaven my father was shaking his head in disbelief. After all, dad was the one who got me hooked. He took me to see Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home in the theater. When he was sick with cancer I would sit next to him on his bed to watch Star Trek The Next Generation. I own all the original Star Trek movies on VHS (recorded off TV, of course) including a recording of TV episode 23: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Star-Trek-Original-Episodes-Armageddon/dp/0792160959/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1314410284&sr=8-1">Space Seed</a> where Kahn is first introduced. And I had a major crush on Warf in highschool.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://therealrevo.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/Warf.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;">I had some serious catching up to do with my kids. I quickly set my DVR to record future episodes of ST The Next Generation. Tonight I sat down with Sweet Terror and Monster Man to watch one. Cookie came in half way through it and said, "Ew, who is that? Is she a Romu-thingy like on the last one?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;">"No, these are different aliens called Cardassians. You know, kind of like the Kardashians." </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">And now I want this T-shirt:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://shirtoid.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/Cardassians.jpg" /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Does that make me a nerd?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-42954911744220328162011-08-26T16:30:00.000-07:002011-08-26T16:31:10.524-07:00<img src="http://www.pinkcoyote.net/dragon2.jpg" />Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-8343121410383621592011-08-26T16:02:00.001-07:002011-08-26T16:12:35.553-07:00I Want to Blog Again... MaybeFor the past couple years I've only had enough mental capacity to compose a facebook status (and sometimes not even for that) let alone blogging. But every now and then someone has a facebook status that reminds me of one of my old blog posts. So I search through them, read through them, find the one I'm thinking of, and I share it on facebook. Every time I do this I think, "I really need to start blogging again," and every time I laugh at myself and think, "Yeah right."<div><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div><div>Today I did this again, but then I fought back with, "Why not, nobody would even read it, so, why not?" So, I'm sitting here in my messy office, waiting for a lasagna to finish baking, frustrated that more people aren't contributing to facebook so I can have something to do on here and, well, there you have it. I'm back... maybe... we'll see.</div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-18312024169981718612010-08-09T05:34:00.000-07:002010-08-09T08:46:58.789-07:00I'm Here<span style="font-size:130%;">Here I am in Charlotte, NC. Well, technically I am in South Carolina, just across the border from Charlotte. We are absolutely loving it here! It is sunny all the time, we get amazing rain downpours and lightening storms. The kids go frog hunting almost every night before bed and we've seen deer in our backyard 5 times now. Mr. Hotness has a fabulously short commute (compared to his 4 hour round trip commute in Connecticut). We are living in a very big, very beautiful home for free right now (long story), just hoping and praying that we will eventually be able to buy it. The kids start school next week and we are all nervous and hoping that they will like it.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I will try to post more, and share photos later. Until then you can read a guest post over at my friend's blog: </span><a href="http://suburbanhousewifeuprising.blogspot.com/2010/08/getting-real-about-food.html"><span style="font-size:130%;">Suburban Housewife Uprising</span></a>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-19119682023690665552010-07-14T12:25:00.000-07:002010-07-14T13:50:15.568-07:00Skeletons in the BoxesHow many boxes would it take to package up your life? Mine took 204. That doesn't include the things that didn't fit in boxes (like furniture, plastic totes, etc). That is a lot of boxes. A lot of "stuff." A lot! Have you seen the show <a href="http://www.aetv.com/hoarders/video/"><strong>Hoarders</strong></a>? There was an episode where a lady was freaking out because they brought 3 garbage trucks and she was worried thinking all of her stuff could fit in those trucks and she wouldn't have anything left. They filled those 3 trucks with nothing but garbage and they hadn't even got through 1/3 of her home. That is how I felt as I walked through my home full of boxes. How on earth could I possibly have THAT much stuff?<br /><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtnc5MHu7nE8yVwd0RUXaIZ3wFWtKGqi_5qvfQMARHbyZSPBT0-_qAux2aKEc0hIkxIvrFWswlFSGqY6yQKsXhgntMlEYGGlOwZzo20OMGx10IX0T_4UoslPcLX1W3F6ZlWqIXL3HSoM/s1600/Summer+with+Grandma+2010+229.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493850290413891586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtnc5MHu7nE8yVwd0RUXaIZ3wFWtKGqi_5qvfQMARHbyZSPBT0-_qAux2aKEc0hIkxIvrFWswlFSGqY6yQKsXhgntMlEYGGlOwZzo20OMGx10IX0T_4UoslPcLX1W3F6ZlWqIXL3HSoM/s400/Summer+with+Grandma+2010+229.JPG" /></a> Even Sweet Terror got sick of it and laid down while saying, "Why do we have to have so many boxes? I don't like all these boxes, they are driving me crazy, Mom."<br /><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KD4lGrdlMW6vN_UBwaTOY1x69dX3GiN70r0xlRrJKRgodF_AlIMgZ3ep1nNOkKIq-IGz0My90FMqQz2Sx-aeY01k9PAtEOf0ol_ANav6uBh_0PvoyS3B3pn6KIm4vSvjSmpuWd3EKOk/s1600/Summer+with+Grandma+2010+228.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493846213979120258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KD4lGrdlMW6vN_UBwaTOY1x69dX3GiN70r0xlRrJKRgodF_AlIMgZ3ep1nNOkKIq-IGz0My90FMqQz2Sx-aeY01k9PAtEOf0ol_ANav6uBh_0PvoyS3B3pn6KIm4vSvjSmpuWd3EKOk/s400/Summer+with+Grandma+2010+228.JPG" /></a> Now we are in our new home, and half of the boxes have been unpacked. In the basement, though, are 3 walls of boxes. These are the "skeletons in my closet" boxes. You know, the ones filled with things. My things. Things that I will one day do marvelous things with. Things that I have yet to do very much at all with. Things that I keep boxing up and taking with me every time I move. Things that Mr. Hotness and the kids couldn't care less about. My things.</div><div></div><div align="center">*sigh*<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAkkgBzngvZHZwdFTugk4K8wP0Pc4jgd5eTFL_NAIAx47US7UAAkoo1XvwmRYV-qCfL5SawfdMrjzE2Td0G3n9wttw_zdVAm0yvNuRAtdo2IOq3gUAClfyfb0lkc5MzZ7zlPHxr_Flw0/s1600/Summer+with+Grandma+2010+230.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493845674737578802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAkkgBzngvZHZwdFTugk4K8wP0Pc4jgd5eTFL_NAIAx47US7UAAkoo1XvwmRYV-qCfL5SawfdMrjzE2Td0G3n9wttw_zdVAm0yvNuRAtdo2IOq3gUAClfyfb0lkc5MzZ7zlPHxr_Flw0/s400/Summer+with+Grandma+2010+230.JPG" /></a> I liked it better when all these things were hiding in closets and drawers and cupboards.<br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-42743993895812265022010-05-15T23:12:00.000-07:002010-05-15T23:37:48.124-07:00Shocked<span style="font-size:130%;"></span><a href="http://mentalik.free.fr/collection_jeux_cartes/scans/bicycle_nickelodeon.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 331px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://mentalik.free.fr/collection_jeux_cartes/scans/bicycle_nickelodeon.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Have you just been begging for a reason to boycott Dora the Explorer, to rid your home of all things Spongey, or to reduce the time your kids spend online or watching TV? Well here is a really good reason and one you can explain to your kids. I am hereby boycotting Nickelodeon.</span></div><div></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.commercialfreechildhood.org/actions/nicknaughtygames.html"><span style="font-size:180%;">Click here to see why.</span></a></strong> </div><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">It isn't often I boycott things or get too riled up about issues, but this one has me steamed and willing to boycott to the hilt. I checked it out by going to </span><a href="http://www.nickjr.com/"><span style="font-size:130%;">nickjr.com</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> and sure enough, down at the bottom, listed under "nickelodeon kids and family websites" you will find 5 links to addictinggames.com which is host to some very very disturbing games gear towards kids. For Nickelodeon to do this just boggles my mind. I know lots of parents who consider NickJr to be a safe site for their kids to play online. But if your kid gets curious and starts clicking on things, or hears about this cool site from a friend and goes to check it out, your child might end up playing a game where they get to imagine their teacher naked or mutilate their classmates. Not so sweet, not so educational, not so NickJr, is it? </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I sent a personalized letter to Steve Youngwood, Executive Vice President, Digital, Nickelodeon kids and family group. Tomorrow I'm going to tell my kids what I told Mr. Youngwood: that until they stop supporting such a heinous site and issue a grand scale apology to all the families and children who's trust they have betrayed, that we will not be renewing our cable once we move, that from this day on my children will not be allowed to watch Nickelodeon, that all Nickelodeon sites will be blocked on our computers, and that not a single cent of ours will be spent on any Nickelodeon licensed merchandise.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I won't ask you to do the same, I just wanted to let you know this was out there because I was glad someone let me know. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-79570660780954177312010-05-14T04:06:00.000-07:002010-05-14T04:08:56.554-07:00Moving<span style="font-size:180%;">We went from this:</span><a href="http://assetwealthdev.com/files/Seattle_Skyline.jpg"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 354px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://assetwealthdev.com/files/Seattle_Skyline.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size:180%;"> To this:<br /></span><div><a href="http://www.tombrower.com/images/NYC_2.JPG"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 900px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 591px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.tombrower.com/images/NYC_2.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:180%;">And by July 1st we will end up here:<br /></span><div><a href="http://www.pictureninja.com/pages/united-states/north-carolina/charlotte-skyline.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 600px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.pictureninja.com/pages/united-states/north-carolina/charlotte-skyline.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">It's all part of the adventure I call life. And so far it's been an amazing ride. I can't wait to see what Charlotte, NC has in store for us. Personally I'm looking forward to finally being able to own a home again, to a shorter commute for Mr. Hotness than I've seen in 8 years, living closer to family than I have in 13 years (a member of my family, that is, and 6 years for any family at all), and for maybe possibly living in a place with central AC. So it's all good.<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">And who knows, maybe in Charlotte I will finally find the time to blog about all my NYC adventures. I know you are dying to hear about the day I tried eating a chicken foot, or about the rainbow haired, kilt wearing, pirate with a poodle I met. Ah, NYC, I will miss living near your awesomeness.<br /></span><div></div></div></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-8387249996410969352010-05-13T04:02:00.001-07:002010-05-13T04:42:24.764-07:00The Spirit of Christmas<span style="font-size:130%;">I'm one of those that truly believes that Christmas should be a year long feeling of peace, joy, goodwill, and love for our fellow man. I also believe that Christmas goodies should be enjoyed year round as well. I want to thank the ice cream makers of Ben and Jerry's for helping a small part of my dream come true by way of their heavenly </span><a href="http://www.benjerry.com/flavors/our-flavors/#product_id=159"><span style="font-size:130%;">Peanut Brittle ice cream</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">. I've had really good peanut brittle (my mom's) and really nasty peanut brittle (the kind you buy from kids selling door to door for a school fund raiser). This is the really good kind, mixed in vanilla ice cream with a caramel swirl. It's like waking up to snow flakes drifting past your window and sneaking into your stocking before your parents wake up on Christmas morning. Oh yeah, it's all kinds of good.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 323px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470710618794132834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujJoOBErYIstVQLvq97IHMoroSpCDZ_p3AfHRnt47RDl5OHy2smb6ZZsja-WXTMkvOd7CmmU1gNc-M3xtp3ZdJwHzG3z30U98XOEnC5CMmLTBAsr_ROEB9i_eKjrNDLUEkhF6Q3baUpc/s400/pb.jpg" /></span><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Ben, Jerry, I want to thank you for making this wonderful flavor. It totally makes up for your disastrous </span><a href="http://www.benjerry.com/flavors/our-flavors/#product_id=158"><span style="font-size:130%;">Boston Cream Pie flavor </span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">(GAG!). What went wrong with that anyway? How can you screw up cake, chocolate, and pastry creme? Why does it taste like 5 different chemicals I might use to clean my sink or paint my wall? </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">The only thing they could have done to improve this yummy Peanut Brittle ice cream would be to give it a fun name. Even a simple "Granny's Homemade Peanut Brittle" would have been something. Or "Brittle Spears" ('cause we all know Britney is nuts), or "Brittle White" (Betty just did SNL so she's totally hip, and probably has brittle hips). Do you guys need help naming your flavors? If so, just give me call. I'm also available for taste testing and flavor consulting. Seriously, guys, what are you waiting for?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">What would you name this awesome ice cream?</span></p>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-90716672519335212772010-05-12T05:57:00.001-07:002010-05-12T06:35:36.031-07:00To Whom...Dear Messy House,<br />Would you please SHUT UP!!!! I know you are messy, I know you need to be cleaned. There is no reason to spread jelly on my foot or hide dirty diapers under my bed. Enough already! I know the laundry needs to be rotated but your mildewy smell won't give me an extra hour every day to get to it. Yes, the counters need to be wiped, but getting butter on my son's homework isn't the polite way to get my attention. And is it too much for me to ask that you not tip over my piles of paper? I will eventually go through them, and you are just making it worse with your temper tantrums. If you really want me to clean you then I suggest you break my TV, disconnect my internet, drain all my phone batteries, lock my toddler in a closet, and burn all my books.<br />Sincerly,<br />LizIce Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-62159226629552402272010-04-16T14:48:00.000-07:002010-04-16T15:11:35.325-07:00What You Didn't See<strong><em>What you saw:</em></strong> A young, skinny cub scout crying his heart out as a heartless mother walks ahead of him coldly ignoring his sobs and hiccups.<br /><br /><strong><em>What you didn't see:</em></strong> A boy who spent the past three days getting angry with his mother over every little single thing she did for him. It was her fault he left his shoes out in the rain, and her fault he didn't do his homework before bedtime, and her fault that there was only green beans and no carrots for the vegetable at dinner. It was obviously her fault that the first two shirts he put on for school were stained or had holes in them, and she was cruel enough to find him a clean pair of socks 1 minute later than he wanted them. So, after days of abuse topped by an extremely bad day of little boy yelling at his mom for everything, the mom goes to pick her son up from cub scouts and (after mom has sat for 15 minutes in the parking lot with 3 kids and a crying baby so that he can have extra time to play with friends) interrupts his game of dodgeball (which had him crying because someone dared to hit him with a soft Nerf ball) to tell him it is time to go home... well, I'm sure you can guess his reaction. Apparently it is her fault that cub scouts ends at 8:15pm on a school night with a 20 minute drive home. So this mom had a very calm but serious talking-to with this young boy and the boy didn't like it. Mom basically says, "You keep apologizing to me for the things you say and do to me. From now on I don't want your apologies, I just want to see you change!" And then the sobbing started.<br /><br /><strong><em>What you also didn't see the next day (and following 3 days):</em></strong> A son who has been very respectful, loving, and helpful. I've seen him tense up in anger, catch himself, take a breath, and choose a better way to deal. Sometimes parenting means making your child cry and looking bad in front of others, but sometimes it's what a child needs to realize that they can be a better person. <br /><br />So, to the person who saw my boy crying and gave me a look that said, "Why aren't you comforting your little guy? What kind of mother are you?" I just want to say that you didn't see everything.Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-37381449542382855662010-04-15T11:08:00.000-07:002010-04-15T11:43:16.506-07:00Blogging?Is anyone still blogging (who doesn't make money doing it)? I wouldn't know because I've been out of the blogging world for quite some time now. Sometimes, like today, I miss it and think I should get back into it, but I'm not sure how. What I miss the most is the writing, and having my kids excited to read my posts everyday, and finding new and amazing people to read about, and gawking at amazing crafts that get me all obsessed and cause me to spend way too much money at craft and fabric stores. Well I know my husband doesn't miss that part. What do I <em>not</em> miss about it? Not much really except for the time it takes to keep it all going. And the fact that I feel a good blog post needs a picture or two and I can't for the life of me find my camera. I think it's in my office. Have you ever seen the inside of my office? Not many people have. It's where I hide all my filthy little secrets of sloth and pack <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">rattiness</span>. My husband has a desk in there somewhere that he has been able to sit at maybe 5 times... which is the exact number of times I've been able to vacuum its floor.<br /><br /><div><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div>Why don't I just clean the office so I can find my camera? I'll tell you why. It's because the black hole of my life is in that room. The swirling vortex of addiction that robs me of all will power, caused me to gain much weight, and daily makes me ashamed of myself, is in that very room. The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span>, curse it's conveniently entertaining soul, is in that room. If I turn it off and lock the door from the inside and send the key to work with my husband then I'm <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">ok</span>, but then I can't blog or clean in that room. If I leave it open so I can clean and blog... well, I end up watching much dumbness online. </div><div><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 353px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460435331209079954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHqmkvd-WK2k1awXJyuEC9KswXKBzBY-PPfrQarGZBXfzOCbKhWSh_PmY4RNonBDOr3rNtEeKZBc_4eZ5aqlD0hbibFYEBleAzQkzxYcmQa7HXWLJjLSE0vhhSS_Nen-rUmt4z6VkDKc/s400/Boys+at+Lowes.jpg" /></div><div> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Curse that evil <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hulu</span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Netflix</span>!!!!!</em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">.</span></em><br /></span>Do any of you know of a good <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span> timer. Something that will limit the amount of time I can spend online? Seriously.</div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-39274563802656841012010-03-18T05:04:00.000-07:002010-03-18T09:37:06.425-07:00The World Needs More TrophiesI've read many posts and articles debating the practice of giving every kid a trophy, even when they lose. I've always seen the valid points of both sides but leaned more towards the tough love side. If you win, you win, if you lose, you lose. Suck it up and deal with it, right? Well, in this case I think I've changed my mind.<br /><br />See this smile? This is just minutes before the start of Pablo's Pinewood Derby race. See the excitement, the hope, the confidence?<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449946275356927826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGmMxVBjQYg3qRqsWBpHX09SD5fBGtPE4QAaTdR2DREInQ9NWJQA-LCLMG8SOjWqB52lWk94x6YpSKfj0Tp9Y7eOWmRqxVB9xb92jPh2M96jzGiYaOiQaReSAyLc4kApGOwF0bvDD_u6o/s400/2010-03-17+19.56.21.jpg" /><br />And we were all excited for him. And we all had our fingers crossed, hoping he would have better luck than <a href="http://icecreamdiary.blogspot.com/2009/03/upsets-and-sweet-kids.html">last year</a>. Alas, he once again came in dead last for every race. Poor guy. But he held it together (even though I could see him clenching his fists and mentally willing himself to not cry or run away). Last year when this happened his consolation prize was a paper certificate and a mini candy bar. It wasn't very consoling, but it was better than nothing, right?<br /><br />Well, this year they gave each kid on of these amazing little trophies on stone bases, and they are even going to get an engraved name plate to put on it.<br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtp1RCQlS9FhG_gUSpQsGinfhYCkFWJV3dpniLEztoZfkzvcbsey_r8MDqPqDS8zTnwIEa4AioJ3h5V4IDKgWZ-nB1NYkeWkiKiaan-Ufy0EadNa0iBmoTdT_SIKZv_TcPXBN8n_5he5s/s1600-h/2010-03-18+07.17.21.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449945059410836866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtp1RCQlS9FhG_gUSpQsGinfhYCkFWJV3dpniLEztoZfkzvcbsey_r8MDqPqDS8zTnwIEa4AioJ3h5V4IDKgWZ-nB1NYkeWkiKiaan-Ufy0EadNa0iBmoTdT_SIKZv_TcPXBN8n_5he5s/s400/2010-03-18+07.17.21.jpg" /></a></p><p>Pablo, who moments before had a face filled with pain, ran up to me with a big smile and showed me his trophy. I commented on how great it looked and he said, </p>"Yeah, the winners got bigger trophies. This trophy might be tiny, but I think it's a good, strong trophy." And then he gave me a big long hug and said, "Now I need to build a trophy case!"<br /><br />And I think he totally deserved that little-but-strong trophy because I don't know if I could have come in dead last 6 races in a row without running away to cry in a closet somewhere. Pablo, you are one tough kid. I'm so proud of you.<br /><br />And of course we went out for ice cream to celebrate the big evening. =)<br /><br />Now, do any of you have some good tips on how to improve a pinewood derby car (that doesn't involve a premade kit or the parents doing all the work)?Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-23108601005745946542010-03-17T06:37:00.000-07:002010-03-17T06:56:27.833-07:00Going GreenAhhhh, St. Patrick's Day. The day when anyone with a smidgen of Irish blood in them goes all out to show that they are green through and through. And moms who aren't even a bit Irish go all out showing how crafty they can be with green.<br /><br />Some moms out there woke up early to make a fun Green Eggs and Ham breakfast. Or maybe made green pancakes with green pineapple syrup and green milk.<br /><br />Me? I let my kids eat Captain Crunch Berries so their poop would turn green.<br /><br />Some moms made sure to get to Old Navy's the day after Valentine's day to be sure that they got a cute, sparkly, and very fashionable, "Kiss Me I'm Irish," shirt for their kids.<br /><br />Me? I gave Sweet Terror (the only kid who owns nothing with green on it) one of her white shirts and a bowl of green food coloring. Have at it, kid.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449600758638768194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipbKRxSHGhnJJCMZUvrTLGtJ6sPipr_EikeWvbUpY68EKFMUoZmDLlWpUT1cDSPrB7xp-3AV2rfcF3Vm-0H4jHtCfXAzoyEabR4L707MSnW8gx1Y7WEKQcZsPKCucem7rnhnYtTjW9Csg/s400/2.jpg" /><br />Some moms started baking last week so that they could send yummy green cupcakes to their child's classroom party.<br /><div><p></p><p>Me? I went a step above that and picked out all the green fishies from a bag of rainbow Goldfish crackers. Now that is faaaaaancy. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVOYjHIAPfDsmJ-twFHsK9lL6Y0NuuzN6vquLnO5I5fLfSwn1rjsXYXUfxUfDU9uCqhjXN0fiKn5Wy3KeD9QSezLdKd_n63WAmbvnhNhSKqmNUIol_FyYoBVeOw8yC-iYvreJgJz0jK4/s1600-h/3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449596701380258514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVOYjHIAPfDsmJ-twFHsK9lL6Y0NuuzN6vquLnO5I5fLfSwn1rjsXYXUfxUfDU9uCqhjXN0fiKn5Wy3KeD9QSezLdKd_n63WAmbvnhNhSKqmNUIol_FyYoBVeOw8yC-iYvreJgJz0jK4/s400/3.jpg" /></a> Some mom's make sure to read several educational books to their kids all about the history behind this important day. </p><p>Me? I made sure to throw some orange into my kids' lunches and told them to make sure the Greens won. I kind of stacked the odds in the green's favor. Only one orange fish against a whole army? That poor little thing doesn't stand a chance. </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcxUjsI-A_VjilwrjHOt9z_nDak_EQHo9EQxwXe7-yV15nUVmHLgAxHluK9td-AxS_mX0D_TorYdu-NmsOdl_tGgymycaEEj6HolLLQJW0E6RDvcc3jug5kqH7vOx3kWZ0dKDo-dqxFU/s1600-h/11.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449596609304061714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcxUjsI-A_VjilwrjHOt9z_nDak_EQHo9EQxwXe7-yV15nUVmHLgAxHluK9td-AxS_mX0D_TorYdu-NmsOdl_tGgymycaEEj6HolLLQJW0E6RDvcc3jug5kqH7vOx3kWZ0dKDo-dqxFU/s400/11.jpg" /></a><br />And my fancy dessert for dinner tonight? Green Peeps. Awwww yeah!<br /><div></div><br /><div>Happy St. Patty's day, everyone. I hope your cabbage is extra delish tonight. ;)<br /><div></div></div></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-14291132550891950332010-03-15T20:05:00.000-07:002010-03-15T20:29:47.090-07:00I Love Mayonnaise<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZ-L3yeT0ZGv65CbVAsSIhIMG4o5aVArIU4W-LRxmSmqzYK0BLk-22791KiI1-0Vqg0hOTfUEvYiVmMeplacar5Tgc1OgAAaFqrV9jH4BBQb-NSHhGhPR25SdYPdsWQVs948RQubgLx0/s1600-h/Mayo.jpg"><span style="color:#000066;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 143px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 192px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449067390939449650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZ-L3yeT0ZGv65CbVAsSIhIMG4o5aVArIU4W-LRxmSmqzYK0BLk-22791KiI1-0Vqg0hOTfUEvYiVmMeplacar5Tgc1OgAAaFqrV9jH4BBQb-NSHhGhPR25SdYPdsWQVs948RQubgLx0/s400/Mayo.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color:#000066;"><br /></span><div><span style="color:#000066;">I love mayonnaise. I know it's bad for me, and I try not to eat it often, but when I do I really go to town. Take any condiment in your fridge and add a little mayo to it and it suddenly becomes a heavenly dip for all sorts of potato thingies. Mix it with chopped pickles and onions, lots of dill, some lemon juice, and salt and pepper and you have a tartar sauce so yummy you won't need a fish stick to want to eat it all in one sitting. Need a quick white sauce for pizza? Lightly spread your pizza dough with mayo and sprinkle it with Ranch powder mix and garlic powder, then top with cheese and veggies (or just cheddar cheese for awesome cheesy sticks). But only do these kind of things once a year, or you'll end up having to do a Jillian Michael's exercise DVD every morning and you will hate it. Uh... that's what I hear anyway...</span></div><div><span style="color:#000066;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000066;">This week has been an interesting mayonnaise week. I ordered some pizzas from Dominos (you know, because they are supposed to be all new and improved), and one of them was supposed to have a white sauce on it. White sauce on pizza is usually like an Alfredo sauce, yummy. They must have run out of Alfredo because what I got was a bacon, tomato, and mushroom pizza with a thick, slimy layer of plain ol' mayo oozing out from under the cheese. I kept trying bites trying to be sure, but it was so nasty I couldn't get through a whole slice. Good news is Domino's gave me store credit for a new pizza anytime I want it. Bad news is it would still be a Domino's pizza. </span></div><div><span style="color:#000066;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000066;">The other funny thing is that Cookie went to make a batch of Cookies and was unable to see the 2 big 18 count egg crates in the fridge. Being the smart girl that she is she searched through my cookbooks to find a proper egg substitute and came up with 3 tablespoons of mayo = 1 egg. 12 tablespoons of mayo later she had a big ol' bowl of yummy cookie dough. The dough's consistency was drier than usual so I was kind of worried, but they turned out light, buttery, and melt in your mouth yummy. Mr. Hotness told her she needs to use the mayo substitute more often.</span></div><div><span style="color:#000066;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000066;">So now I can add free pizza and yummy cookies to the list of reasons why I loooooove mayo. Why do you love it? Or do you hate it? You probably don't have to wake up at 6 to sweat with Jillian, do you? Lucky.</span></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-5786489122568051902010-03-14T16:35:00.000-07:002010-03-14T16:53:10.311-07:00Torture<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">I take my role as family pain inflictor very seriously.</span> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 292px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 552px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.faqs.org/photo-dict/photofiles/list/1258/1749hairbrush.jpg" /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">For this reason I try to have the best torture devices out there in my home. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 413px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.coroflot.com/user_files/company_files/99291_wZUcDShVBmM2O8cZClqlD7lH3.jpg" /><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">I'll do anything to elicit screams, wails, moans, groans, and outright begging for mercy. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448638501756464802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8TZJUYUEwlY89Hi5UwnJl3CfOHV75INZobAfkalhNh9JfxZfYUdJJ7iNgT0GK84CyWgsKMNmiK2h_DTkS7D1uTOj4-BBC3Zdq51PbnQzBgKk6cfT0VDfaUPoZmu1wRVdWdvOJpljfnT4/s320/khadfield_jlarsen_makechoresfun.jpg" /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">The louder they complain, the better mother I am... right?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span><br /></div></span><div align="center"><a href="http://www.getabslosefat.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/vegetables.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 403px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 435px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.getabslosefat.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/vegetables.jpg" /></a> <div> </div><div><span style="font-size:180%;">What is your favorite way to torture children?</span></div><br /></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-42814634661123803632010-02-14T07:34:00.000-08:002010-02-14T07:34:00.788-08:00The Sunday Nap<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">A typical day at church for the Ice Cream family:</span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglr00Gyazo5QK6frSt0Hzv0LZAYzLgZeOcaaWJLKxd7v03WDCcCHoVb6qQ_ZXAnHrmdMaHXEHJ8rBeboIMfmJCjLQJK21-XUZfVzvNGETB2Q-Qhltp16GgeIN5ZnBfbnZ0VHfrNTJ0Uao/s1600-h/09202009+005.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437752239532395186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglr00Gyazo5QK6frSt0Hzv0LZAYzLgZeOcaaWJLKxd7v03WDCcCHoVb6qQ_ZXAnHrmdMaHXEHJ8rBeboIMfmJCjLQJK21-XUZfVzvNGETB2Q-Qhltp16GgeIN5ZnBfbnZ0VHfrNTJ0Uao/s400/09202009+005.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoxD3LW-sdFGlQpA0wT3CqBIA2cjF6XjPlXIyHwWpbW1BlSa7Nq5GYiNxDNhjxU78RdM8nme-P3AX4nwSeQZpQpCvhKS0jfcCh7KQNO4ZVwd_4h3YKpjv3Og1PiRDHZsAkjG_-omZUvs/s1600-h/09202009+006.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437752167659297138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoxD3LW-sdFGlQpA0wT3CqBIA2cjF6XjPlXIyHwWpbW1BlSa7Nq5GYiNxDNhjxU78RdM8nme-P3AX4nwSeQZpQpCvhKS0jfcCh7KQNO4ZVwd_4h3YKpjv3Og1PiRDHZsAkjG_-omZUvs/s400/09202009+006.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO35T26nvZvb94LRZ5VRvz4VqRXzo87K7pdSLx2JqxTgDeCWhIbXigD4kADhw1zZB3ft1ZY8fYx3-YsJ_6S_H_D7GPNNWtFmeua6LoMIgq0BCSmTNO6NM4ltmpbO3EIF1Cu6cu9PGdm5M/s1600-h/09202009+007.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 308px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437752099395700578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO35T26nvZvb94LRZ5VRvz4VqRXzo87K7pdSLx2JqxTgDeCWhIbXigD4kADhw1zZB3ft1ZY8fYx3-YsJ_6S_H_D7GPNNWtFmeua6LoMIgq0BCSmTNO6NM4ltmpbO3EIF1Cu6cu9PGdm5M/s400/09202009+007.jpg" /></a> (Pablo takes advantage of the quiet to draw without disturbances)<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZh284BCW6E4ssBm7vzsrke-whtvvChyblhyI45AFRWdVUPsvwYM_b8jjoaOFyWCemKsHU2y1KuPu3-IfOCkXUy6U_sjLmTQZJnZ8tEmgl1IE1PoNXOaCkSw_x0kllQOCZ9X_6bRZOb8/s1600-h/09202009+008.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437752037494907970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZh284BCW6E4ssBm7vzsrke-whtvvChyblhyI45AFRWdVUPsvwYM_b8jjoaOFyWCemKsHU2y1KuPu3-IfOCkXUy6U_sjLmTQZJnZ8tEmgl1IE1PoNXOaCkSw_x0kllQOCZ9X_6bRZOb8/s400/09202009+008.jpg" /></a><br />I've had several people ask me for advice on how to keep kids quiet at church. I've tried many things through the years, cheerios, hand puppets, coloring books, magnet sets, etc. I think I've finally stumbled on the perfect reverence solution. Let your kids stay up till Midnight watching cartoons and then wake them up at 6am Sunday morning. The only downfall to this is if you have a loud snorer. Cheeks snores louder than a rumbling volcano. And he drools.<br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;">HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!</span></div></div></div></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-62303048676940383482010-02-13T07:20:00.000-08:002010-02-13T11:42:03.841-08:00My Valentine<div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"></span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;">Why I love my special Valentine:</span></div><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He is hot stuff.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He tells me I'm beautiful even when I have </span><a href="http://icecreamdiary.blogspot.com/2010/01/beadhead.html"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">bedhead</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He doesn't mind that I don't shave my legs... almost ever.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">When I apologize for letting the house get </span><a href="http://icecreamdiary.blogspot.com/2009/02/posting.html"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">so messy </span></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">he says it looks fine to him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He loves me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">When I come running out of the bathroom screaming that I have a beard and I force him to look closely at the hairy spots on my jawline he says he doesn't know what I'm talking about and that he can't see anything.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Sometimes he surprises me and cleans the whole kitchen, including the 2 day old stack of pots and pans.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He doesn't get mad when I sit up in bed and start hitting him and myself because I had a bad spider dream and I'm certain that a real spider caused it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He makes me laugh.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He brings me ice cream. Lots of ice cream. Even the expensive kind.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">When I was pregnant and having a really hard time feeling pretty he gave me the </span><a href="http://icecreamdiary.blogspot.com/2008/05/prepare-to-be-jealous.html"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">best birthday EVER </span></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">in the whole wide world.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He spends too much money on me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He helped me make these lovely things:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 95px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437813601053399234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCM-u65tQN0R6lBJ8Niy9ZMz39-YT_-UEucm5jEpFDvZOZ8SGnBgL32bCHFRA342dMdjKp5Mn4Wf6gqgEP-8O4shoc0x6aiin5I_kQigoW85UptlRWa00Aatm6VKEKkWP_dQ-h2xg9fM/s400/my+babies.jpg" /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He's still my best friend... with benefits. ;)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">He has a very sexy, perfectly hairy, awesomely buff, man chest. Raaawr!</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">But the reason I love my man most is that he made an eternal promise to me and the Lord that he would be worthy of me and our marriage, and everyday he works hard to keep that promise.</span><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">I love you, Mr. Hotness! Will you be my Valentine?</span></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 357px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437814788572067570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1E3Zy3XoqCwW_FEj8v8VlnkHyeVbPmZNJIeerH0Bck5_HcQLIlwL5V5Hkqcr9mWYfxgU0NNfPfUvwRa9kz41NpdHh5ZEvpjfD-1u2KfGX0LCw4S3V3hqBoBGkO3el90IS1O-6stwYl4/s400/n776613837_396565_3775.jpg" />Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-48142913741824239482010-02-12T08:22:00.000-08:002010-02-12T09:16:50.269-08:00A Special Breed<span style="font-size:130%;">Apparently in Connecticut the animals can walk through trees.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtoFLuJ0YNvrpYlNeqTsRf5xINed-UfzKA0NhDoEeHEo0isiNOZk_0oAjJyEqff9E1g_UDYeFcj6uso76sf3m9XjWQ_3ZjfU_rGnPAt7QbhzSFT9zeFE-etFeZTLSrPOzD5_jFeLMxtyQ/s1600-h/January-February+2010+004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437405817327118754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtoFLuJ0YNvrpYlNeqTsRf5xINed-UfzKA0NhDoEeHEo0isiNOZk_0oAjJyEqff9E1g_UDYeFcj6uso76sf3m9XjWQ_3ZjfU_rGnPAt7QbhzSFT9zeFE-etFeZTLSrPOzD5_jFeLMxtyQ/s400/January-February+2010+004.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggmk_9mwEy-8P3xS7qLUCKgkctCiwZYWBaJc-lYK_dNTV0jX7b-hP1kYhVoRPmzLZ66qWw-XWCC3hDgyvqV-LdPDMqZ_kVtwawp3bX9J7gU2C_NWkXKdTLMcuVVQmy8kwuefjSE0jlIA/s1600-h/January-February+2010+002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437394408375007842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggmk_9mwEy-8P3xS7qLUCKgkctCiwZYWBaJc-lYK_dNTV0jX7b-hP1kYhVoRPmzLZ66qWw-XWCC3hDgyvqV-LdPDMqZ_kVtwawp3bX9J7gU2C_NWkXKdTLMcuVVQmy8kwuefjSE0jlIA/s400/January-February+2010+002.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NdOJCVose406RTThstR1RmnUC9Cbr04OOMMuh0Q1Ig706hNbYXuiEKEozkojoDHwVFLID-kvdouK_db40GlVzwUgm32AWPs_XuP5xjEsMVfShQ38agC5UAy0b198lQ1DmpjfTnlpBjk/s1600-h/January-February+2010+001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437393504249147410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NdOJCVose406RTThstR1RmnUC9Cbr04OOMMuh0Q1Ig706hNbYXuiEKEozkojoDHwVFLID-kvdouK_db40GlVzwUgm32AWPs_XuP5xjEsMVfShQ38agC5UAy0b198lQ1DmpjfTnlpBjk/s400/January-February+2010+001.JPG" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Freeeeeeeaky.</span> </div><div></div><div>(Either that or one of the neighborhood boys is playing a prank on me. Don't mess with me boys, I'm halfway to crazy as it is.)<br /><br /></div><div></div></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5139814941566752118.post-75000859531470487912010-02-11T07:50:00.000-08:002010-02-11T10:51:06.332-08:00Top of the Rock in NYCTwo weeks ago my sister came to visit and I totally took advantage of her niceness. She watched all 5 of my kids, and all 5 of her kids, and let Mr. Hotness and I run away to NYC for a whole night. We went with a long list of things we were going to do because we didn't have kids with us. My ideal date was to go to dinner in <a href="http://www.explorechinatown.com/">Chinatown</a> and then ice skating in <a href="http://www.wollmanskatingrink.com/main_wollman.htm">Wollman Park. </a><br /><br />Sadly, it was so freaking cold I could barely breath and was getting back aches from shivering so badly. My cute little Pacific Northwest black jacket and scarf ensemble just wasn't made for the frigid, icy, dry winters of NYC. And I was even wearing thermal underwear and two jackets. Instead we went to a cute little Italian restaurant and then blissfully enjoyed a peaceful sleep (in a very chic but very small NYC hotel room) without Cheeks hogging up the bed. Kidless sleeping is sooooo nice. After sleeping in as long as we could we decided to try and see at least one thing before catching the train back home.<br /><br />We went to Rockefeller Plaza and went to the Top of the Rock. At first Mr. H. and I were sceptic. We'd been to the top of the Space Needle several times and always felt it was really expensive with little payback. Honestly, if you ever go to Seattle just go to the <a href="http://www.emporis.com/application/?nav=building&lng=3&id=137730">Russell Investment Center</a> and go to the 17th floor Roof Garden. It is lovely, a fantastic view, has a little cafe inside, and is FREE.<br /><br />But I digress. Top of the Rock ended up being well worth the money and was a fantastic experience. The creation of Rockefeller Plaza is actually a great piece of American history and there is a lovely little museum experience that you walk through before going all the way up. The short version of the story is that John D Rockefeller Jr. was all set with a group of heavy investors to build Rockefeller Plaza when the Great Depression hit. All the investors backed out and he was left with a decision to give up or go it alone. His view on life was to always move forward so he decided to take a huge gamble and go ahead and build the enormous plaza on his own. Because of this he was able to keep and create over 75,ooo jobs across the country during the Depression, and that included a large group of, what would have otherwise been starving, artists. Isn't that cool?<br /><br />Here is the Empire State building. Mr. Hotness had fun looking through his binoculars at the people standing on it's rooftop. He even tried waving at them to see if anyone would wave back.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437029704251990434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOM1BaonShAnNgjVxGkS81bPeCWIVwkEJofBrMcfw532b0And2tVH6eJifs7m72utbzUq1IdIEAcrgEhy2VMaw0RmUgG-k6DvHNhjwgYTbWikRrPj1YEAfaAbIfc2RFbFkJeOXvS2LE4M/s400/January-February+2010+018.JPG" /><br /><div><br />Here is Mr. Hotness trying to bring home a souvenir. Sorry, babe, you're going to have to buy one in the gift shop, just like everyone else.<br /><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437029287166670322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuozcmC3Nd0h-Q-s5SLDBiMo22cTkxLnYtDxvyS9V-gPiG-p1lij1lmuQvomev9_9slj-SX_UHHl6cAuvo6D_X_fDN3sNhLWXPS2mtExLQ9pmOd8S5iyI4DYHKVvwJQU6s2xPLGdRa7bg/s400/Jon+King+Kong.JPG" /><br /><div>Here is an aerial view of St Patrick's Cathedral. Some day soon I'm going to go for a full tour of this place. I wonder if they take you up to the roof. Maybe I can "accidentally" go through a wrong door and get there myself?</div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437014992992696562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWVksVXG4HgSfwUDAMLqr42HiZ7DyZUDoUpKZOngCHRs-Q1GxX-w8_v0Tpv3MzTZsiIAHR-lxoWYNsGtbpi_lDhlsrYFxBUbHnWN_Zskfbye4cv962AH5jNOM1DWApvDv85vyTI4Ok3E/s400/January-February+2010+012.JPG" /><br /><div>Here is a view of the lovely <a href="http://www.thecityreview.com/french.html">Fred French Building</a> on 5th Avenue. I think this building perfectly illustrates the class and beauty of the early 1900's. I want a replica of that top frieze to hang in my living room. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437014857503419250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7uzJh0chJpMYOlU9jULJW8K2CIo8nJa2uHyz0wxpVMcDvmvCBh0zi8Ht_xORrTQhpsmZFEdggVAnnIIlPpJ-opaU8T6TT6EcEqO8dGZtk-cBixRVdbWt_d6Y8j_fk8kzEkdbxjD2kauY/s400/January-February+2010+019.JPG" /></div><br /><br />At the Top of the Rock there is this fun <a href="http://www.lightnowblog.com/2009/04/934/">interactive music and light room</a> that could sense your movements and had lights follow you around the room. Every time a new person came in the room the whole place would light up like this. </div><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437029491606654226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xsYyOnFeRrh13tlW2dpZYvSdBZpNru_Sm9wCDwDNH9VSRfjGpgWMVh-LzEfz9QKdk7NBwYOXXFmMPd-h-fvbM6LZP4OOmQRwEu30x2D3OY5X8eMLaGBE4eIg6UQcGv70UngNY9ruLfI/s400/January-February+2010+035.JPG" /><br /><div>Mr. Hot and I had fun tricking the computer by hugging close enough to make it think we were one person. Then as soon as we let go of each other it thought a new person had entered and would go all crazy.</div><div><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div></div><div>There is so much to see in NYC and I just don't even know where to begin. Do any of you have any suggestions? (besides Chinatown and the Statue of Liberty, because they are definitely on my list)</div></div></div></div>Ice Creamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10720267761985766740noreply@blogger.com4