tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-171968572024-03-21T12:19:12.165-07:00Can I stay a bit longer?Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-35665349157304978982011-10-16T20:28:00.005-07:002011-10-17T19:14:36.705-07:00No secrets, just running: Part 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJyWnDoh6wnctcoWqckZ8vw-cPwPw152a4d6yJgDyUKpYw2GLTNbdXkM-6HvZAMSZC2L7Fo6D-pfS_62cxKiPcv0XaInyQqZ2sOoXT_9umFRT8Ny2tZM3VcVcE2tor0mKnRXHIw/s1600/Lydia+cell+phone+567.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 338px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJyWnDoh6wnctcoWqckZ8vw-cPwPw152a4d6yJgDyUKpYw2GLTNbdXkM-6HvZAMSZC2L7Fo6D-pfS_62cxKiPcv0XaInyQqZ2sOoXT_9umFRT8Ny2tZM3VcVcE2tor0mKnRXHIw/s400/Lydia+cell+phone+567.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664635093893229778" border="0" /></a>One of the first things that I started to work on with running was my form. Jason said to "run like you are trying to sneak up on someone." He told me that if I ran that way, I would run lighter on my feet and wouldn't be pounding as much. This is something I still pay attention to. It's harder to do when I get tired. For example at the end of a long run when I am trying to increase my speed but I'm tired from the miles, sometimes I'll start to pound. At that point I have to remind myself to slow down a little and do it right. It feels SO much better to do it right.<br /><br />The other component that I wasn't paying attention to was getting properly warmed-up and even more important was the warming down and the cooldown. Jason has an EXCELLENT post about this on his site <a href="http://strengthrunning.com/2010/05/elite-core-and-dynamic-warm-ups-a-comprehensive-guide/">strengthrunning.com</a>. I was a little overwhelmed at first with doing it all the time. I started doing the routines once or twice a week, then a few times. Now I am at the point where I won't run if I'm not sufficiently warmed up and I feel incomplete if I haven't done a cooldown routine. I've notice that the cooldown routines, especially the <a href="http://www.runnerspace.com/video.php?do=view&video_id=8468">cannonball cooldown</a> and the <a href="http://strengthrunning.com/2011/02/the-itb-rehab-routine-video-demonstration/">ITB Rehab Routine</a> have really helped me with injury prevention. It doesn't add that much more in time to my workout. I started working on my core strength. It never ceases to amaze me how strengthening the core helps with everything else. <br /><br />I am to the point where I run 30 miles a week. I run 5 times a week. When I first started with Jason, I ran 3 times a week with a total of about 15 miles per week. Essentially I have doubled what I am doing, but it has taken me over a year to double. I could have been more agressive with adding miles, but I wasn't. In May I tore my plantar fascia (this is different from getting plantar fasciitis) doing karate. It took me a few months to rehab it and get back to running on the road. I did a lot of <a href="http://strengthrunning.com/2011/06/pool-running-why-you%e2%80%99re-doing-it-wrong-and-how-to-pool-run-to-get-faster/">pool running</a> and biking during that time. Luckily Jason was able to help me through it. Looking back, if I hadn't had his encouragement, I think I might have quit running all together. By the way, my injury in karate could have been prevented if I would have warmed up properly! Now that I'm fully recovered, each of my 3 weekly runs are considered "easy" runs. I usually run 4 miles, sometimes 3 or 5 depending on how much time I have. Easy is a loose definition. I had a hard time getting it through my head. I wanted Jason to give me a pace to run. My easy pace changes from day to day, and thank goodness too. Today I am tired. I'm still recovering from my long run on Saturday and I'm getting a head cold. I ran easy and it felt wonderful. I'm not concerned that it was a minute a mile slower than my "easy" run last Thursday. Last Thursday I felt wonderful. Easy is a loose definition. Each easy run is followed by what Jason calls strides. Basically I run as fast as I can for 30 seconds. I catch my breath for a minute or so, sometimes longer. I do this 4 times. I think when I first started doing strides I did them once or twice a week. Now I do them after every easy run. I never pay attention to how fast these are, as again the speed depends on how well I feel. I remember one week I did my long run on Friday instead of Saturday. Jason suggested that on Saturday, I do my easy run with strides. My legs felt so sore from the run on Friday that I decided to skip the strides. Jason said that strides would have help stretch my legs and recover from the run. Now, I never skip strides, even if I have to go a little slower to do them.<br /><br />Once a week I do an actual speed workout. In the spring I was doing hill repeats. I would run a couple of miles to warm-up then I ran up the hill as hard as I could for a minute. I would then turn around and slowly jog back down to the bottom. I repeated this 6 to 8 times. After that I ran the two miles or so home at an easy pace. Right now the type of speed work I'm doing is called a tempo run. This has been the only time that Jason even suggested a pace for me to run. He told me to run 2 miles to warm-up, try and run one mile at an 8:30 pace, then run two miles to warm-down. I don't remember exactly, but I think I did it faster, so it's good that I didn't stick with what he told me. I was able to run faster than he expected. I ran uncomfortably hard for 1 mile. It was too difficult to keep looking at my garmin to see if I was going "fast" enough. The next week I ran uncomfortably hard for 1.5 miles, then the week after that I did 2 miles. Looking back, if I struggled, it seems like I would spend two weeks until I was comfortable with my fast pace and mileage. Now, if I feel like I got my ass handed to me I am certain to try again the next week. I try very hard to not get obsessed with numbers. Numbers can be very fun, but I try to pay attention to how I feel. When I'm running my tempo, if I start to get comfortable, I run a little harder, if I start to taste blood, I run a little slower. I usually don't have to taste blood to know that I am running way too fast for me!<br /><br />Again, I want to stress the biggest thing that I have learned is to be patient. I understand that I was pretty much coming from nothing....so it's easy to be happy with every step I take in the right direction. I am, after all better than I've ever been before. I'm not trying to "get back" to that wonderful high school weight, or run as fast as I did when I ran cross country in college. I was never thin and I never ran. It is difficult for people that are working their way back to a certain point in life. I'm not that person. I remember cheating in gym class when we had to run the 1.5 mile run. EVERYONE else in the class had lapped me and I couldn't bear the thought of me running another lap alone while they just sat there in amazement. I ended after lap 5. I lied to my teacher and I told him I had finished. I still finished dead last in the class, I didn't lie to win an award, but I was so out of shape that I couldn't do it. Keep in mind, I was probably 18. It should have been a piece of cake. I literally came from nothing! I have never been lazy. I have an excess amount of energy that can drive the calmest of men to drinking! But, I wasn't doing anything right. Soda pop is not good for you. Plain and simple. I have had the biggest battle with this and guess what.....the battle wages on. It never ends. You don't get skinnier over night. You don't get faster from 2 speed sessions. You don't ever stop wanting the things you are addicted to. But, you can stand up and fight. I'm fighting the fight. I hope this helps you fight too! I like to use the analogy about brushing your teeth. If you went to bed tonight and were too tired to brush your teeth, would you get up in the morning and forgo brushing your teeth? Would you tell everyone that you failed to brush your teeth and are now a non tooth brusher, because you didn't do it once? How about if you went a day without brushing your teeth? What about two days? You would come to your senses, and brush your teeth. You wouldn't stop all together. Being healthy is like brushing your teeth. Just because you had a bad weekend doesn't mean that you can stop trying all together. Get out there. A great man named Gordon B. Hinckley said, "Try a little harder to be a little better." Get up and brush your teeth, keep trying and keep doing better!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-7188674105742061282011-10-16T19:24:00.008-07:002011-10-17T06:53:08.008-07:00I started here: Part 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHO3k3ZyE-5CAnfnNdk6rhUd3zld7bJixqpzwUXIicSajgCp_xGgWtGOVRrZM09i_ORTh-shbOv-TMo-uv4g_HS38jn2FzLA4ihyxF6cSAuGX9ExJG0AYK4vXYq3klwUOMAh2ziA/s1600/DSC00009.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHO3k3ZyE-5CAnfnNdk6rhUd3zld7bJixqpzwUXIicSajgCp_xGgWtGOVRrZM09i_ORTh-shbOv-TMo-uv4g_HS38jn2FzLA4ihyxF6cSAuGX9ExJG0AYK4vXYq3klwUOMAh2ziA/s200/DSC00009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664297538380079938" border="0" /></a>After fretting back and forth about what to say and how to react to so many inquiries to me about my running, I decided to write a little post about what I do, and how I came to do it. Writing is a pretty intimate process for me. Remember that really hot guy from high school that gave you butterflies? He was Josh Bacon at my school. Well writing used to be my Josh Bacon. I would get so excited thinking about what I was going to write and how I was going to present it. I've kind of lost my butterflies so you'll have to bare with me here.<br /><br />Most of my running has been shaped by running coach Jason Fitzgerald of <a href="http://strengthrunning.com/2011/05/all-star-profile-lydia-hintze/">strengthrunning.com</a>. I cannot say enough good about him, I really can't. So to avoid becoming overly attentive in my praise, I'll suffice to say, he knows his shit, and if he doesn't know it, he'll find someone that does.<br /><br />First off I want to remind anyone reading this that I am an amatuer runner. I'm not overly fast and I'm not perfect. What I have been doing is what works for me. I hope you find something that works for you.<br /><br />The journey started over 3 years ago, when a good friend of mine, Lena asked me to start running with her. I had recently quit my full time job, to be a stay at home mom of 3 young kids. I was so desperate to get out of the house that I would have joined in just about anything......even scrapbooking. I just wanted to be around adult and not dealing with me and my fattness. We followed the "Couch potato to 5k" program faithfully and ran our first 5k on June 7, 2008 in Sringville, Utah. Our time was 36 minutes. We didn't walk once and I was elated! The NEXT month we ran our first half marathon together. Lena had just found out that she was pregnant and pulled back to run slower. I finished in 2hrs 35 mins. I was in so much pain after that half that I pretty much stopped running and got a little fatter. I ran off and on until I found myself nursing and pregnant with baby #4. (No, I'm not a member of the le leche league and yes I do realize that nursing is not a solid form of birth control. hahaha) I only gained about 3 pounds with this pregnancy and after giving birth to a 9 pound baby my weight settled in at about 235. We moved houses and towns and I found another big girl name Marinda that was ready to roll with running. I felt that the "Couch potato to 5k" program was an excellent place to begin again. It helped me mentally and physically prepare to run further. This time running came a lot easier for me. We started running in February and again I ran the same half marathon I had 2 years earlier in July....with a time of 2hr35mins. I was frustrated and hurting, but not as bad as I was the first time. I continued to run, because I was falling in love with it. I also joined Weight Watchers. I had lost about 10 pounds from the months of running, but needed to get my eating in shape. I thought then, and I tell everyone now that I can eat my way out of any workout. Eating is the most essential part of being healthy.<br /><br />I hired Jason in late September, early October. At that time my lower legs throbbed almost constantly. I wore my shoes with orthodox in them constantly. Jason had me start doing feet exercises and leg exercises and slowly increased my strength. I don't recall when I got rid of the orthodox, but it was probably in 3 or 4 months into training. Slow progress, but solid. The first thing I learned from Jason Fitzgerald was to be patient! I think it has paid off. I laugh when people ask me how I have gotten to be where I am. They are usually looking for a quick easy fix. It didn't happen for me. I was content to let things happen as they did. My weight has come off slowly and the running has increased even slower.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-17123166842919230392011-07-23T17:34:00.003-07:002011-07-28T10:18:00.720-07:00Rough Go<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2b5Kh5TANdXZ4KHURlDbKVbSVe4NFy2Sx7PJLwN5jUdTWrCcNMgO2wKHP03JORpiWEVrcQCVEzYgPy5yqCnKDjiCcWebnywlyIPx1nqX1N9WRAl3FD5CgVU1BCezO-zOTaM5Yg/s1600/Light_at_the_end_of_the_tunnel_by_Juhan.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2b5Kh5TANdXZ4KHURlDbKVbSVe4NFy2Sx7PJLwN5jUdTWrCcNMgO2wKHP03JORpiWEVrcQCVEzYgPy5yqCnKDjiCcWebnywlyIPx1nqX1N9WRAl3FD5CgVU1BCezO-zOTaM5Yg/s320/Light_at_the_end_of_the_tunnel_by_Juhan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634453512235804642" border="0" /></a>The last few weeks have been rough at my house. Why do things have to be rough? It could be my fault....but I'm not admitting that.<br /><br />Last Thursday was Stephen's first day back on shift. It is amazing how quickly I grow accustomed to him being home and helping me with life. i.e. the kids, laundry, food, etc. Yes, I can handle these things on my own. But, why do it alone when I can have my husband help me? Am I right? Anyhow, let's get back to Thursday. Thursday was hot. The kids had swimming lessons in the morning, and I barely got all of them out alive. Regan is such a wild card. This kid is typical in the fact that he is almost 2 and always on the move. I got the 3 girls dressed in the dressing room and looked away for maybe 30 seconds. In that time Regan left the dressing room and went to the deep end of the pool to climb on to the diving board. Luckily, our neighbor who happens to be a lifeguard grabbed him before he actually made the jump. I don't get frantic all that often as a mother. I was frantic, desperate even. I<br /><br />This week I am all alone. It kind of bites, and I find myself wanting to reach out to someone. I am doubting myself and my choices. I'm not sure I'm cut out for this life. I made it through yesterday....barely. I didn't struggle with the kids at all. I actually got a ton done around the house. It was pretty amazing. But, my conflict came in the evening. Always the worst part of the day. I was unsure and unhappy. However, I survived! I did it. I made it. There just might be a light at the end of this tunnel. <br /><br />ILydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-42480455442237746032011-07-04T05:54:00.003-07:002011-07-04T06:03:13.891-07:00The American Flag<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALRhYiWaWKTu5r2fiPxpaNFWWvZpqeUQMs0y4uThSxQ-JEx7Ysrg39qttwrMLAWczK2vl61_sR3mBj1SeuaYHL4sTwdVbwLpv-0Px0H6VWG2zb1D4GLvxCw0iR8-OsNwTAsVrsw/s1600/american-flag-folded.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALRhYiWaWKTu5r2fiPxpaNFWWvZpqeUQMs0y4uThSxQ-JEx7Ysrg39qttwrMLAWczK2vl61_sR3mBj1SeuaYHL4sTwdVbwLpv-0Px0H6VWG2zb1D4GLvxCw0iR8-OsNwTAsVrsw/s400/american-flag-folded.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625481345157297138" border="0" /></a>I know that sometimes there is question regarding my patriotism for this country. I want to let you know that I have started a tradition in our family of the folding the flag on the 4th of July family get together. I taught the cub scouts how to fold the flag and wanted them to understand a little bit more about it. The local American Legion guys did this demonstration for me, and I was really touched. I guess I really am proud to be an American.<br /><br /><br />Have you ever noticed how the honor guard pays meticulous attention to correctly folding the American flag 13 times? You probably thought it was to symbolize the original 13 colonies, but we learn something new every day!<br /><br /><br /><br />The 1st fold of our flag is a symbol of life.<br /><br />The 2nd fold is a symbol of our belief in eternal life.<br /><br />The 3rd fold is made in honor and remembrance of the veterans departing our ranks who gave a portion of their lives for the defense of our country to attain peace throughout the world.<br /><br />The 4th fold represents our weaker nature, for as American citizens trusting in God, it is to Him we turn in times of peace as well as in time of war for His divine guidance.<br /><br />The 5th fold is a tribute to our country, for in the words of Stephen Decaur, "Our Country", in dealing with other countries, may she always be right; but it is still our country, right or wrong.<br /><br />The 6th fold is for where our hearts lie. It is with our heart that We pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, Indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all.<br /><br />The 7th fold is a tribute to our Armed Forces, for it is through the Armed Forces that we protect our country and our flag against all her enemies, whether they be found within or without the boundaries of our republic.<br /><br />The 8th fold is a tribute to the one who entered into the valley of the shadow of death, that we might see the light of day.<br /><br />The 9th fold is a tribute to womanhood, and Mothers. For it has been through their faith, their love, loyalty and devotion that the character of the men and women who have made this country great has been molded.<br /><br />The 10th fold is a tribute to the father, for he, too, has given his sons and daughters for defense of our country since they were first born.<br /><br />The 11th fold represents the lower portion of the seal of King David and King Solomon and glorifies in the Hebrews eyes, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.<br /><br />The 12th fold represents an emblem of eternity and glorifies, in the Christians eyes, God the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit.<br /><br />The 13th fold, or when the flag is completely folded, the stars are uppermost reminding us of our nations motto, "In God We Trust."<br /><br />After the flag is completely folded and tucked in, it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat, Ever reminding us of the soldiers who served under General George Washington, and the Sailors and Marines who served under Captain John Paul Jones, who were followed by their comrades and shipmates in the Armed Forces of the United States, preserving for us the rights, privileges and freedoms we enjoy today.<br /><br />There are some traditions and ways of doing things that have deep meaning. In the future, youll see flags folded and now you will know why. Share this with the children you love and all others who love the symbol of "Liberty and Freedom."Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-1313219481752650422011-07-03T14:18:00.003-07:002011-07-03T14:53:01.538-07:00Wild and crazy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVzpnUH-LalEmBU92SPy-69Y0DyCNS1PLYtWTBUBExWIUVMIZtfQPHzvvyY07MtlufjqliCnr8PWG2u4qTcQesZKG5wO3uzqjhQbUqnqUezRkZG2NXYaVrYmcvrFQPN8Hi6gDNgg/s1600/Wild+and+Crazy+guys.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVzpnUH-LalEmBU92SPy-69Y0DyCNS1PLYtWTBUBExWIUVMIZtfQPHzvvyY07MtlufjqliCnr8PWG2u4qTcQesZKG5wO3uzqjhQbUqnqUezRkZG2NXYaVrYmcvrFQPN8Hi6gDNgg/s200/Wild+and+Crazy+guys.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625240729423456146" border="0" /></a>Have you ever been a Saturday Night Live fan? I love it! "We are.....two wild and crazy guys!" I feel wild and crazy sometimes too. I realize, however that the thing that people like most about me happens to be my least favorite quality. I'm wild and crazy. I guess the wild and crazy part isn't what bothers me so much, it's the why. <br /><br />Nervous energy. <br /><br />Why do I have to have so much of it? It is not normal. I tell ya, it's not! How does one get rid of all that energy? I have found some interesting ways through the years. I dance. I love dancing. I do zumba, which is still pretty much dancing. I workout. I run. I clean. I mow the lawn, take the garbage to the dump. I clean some more, and then I talk. This is the part that I hate the most. I talk and talk and I laugh and I talk. Remember that stupid old t-shirt that expressed the line "Help I'm talking and I can't shut up!"? I'm fairly certain it was constituted in my behalf. I used to worry that people would read what I wrote on this blog and judge me, but then I worried that no one would want to read what I wrote. Ironic no? I want people to think I'm funny. Who doesn't love laughing?<br /><br />Today at church, my neighbor and I got giggling so hard that I almost had to leave. This is the kind of giggling that you try and squash by closing your mouth and putting your head down. But, you are shaking so hard that you can't breath. I tried to look away from the hilarious culprit only to see Stephen giving me a disapproving glare. Even funnier. All the kids were either sitting on his lap or right next to him. They were smothering him. He looked like a tiny jungle gym that had long since reached capacity. Funny things happen during church. It's so hard to not laugh at them. So, why was I laughing in the first place? That damned nervous energy. It gets me every time!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-69279714175232363792011-07-01T06:25:00.004-07:002011-07-01T06:39:06.000-07:00I'm back....I thinkIt has been well over a year since my last post. It's strange to think that I used to post so much on here. I was intimidated by knowing that people I see in my day to day life might be reading my words and somehow hearing my thoughts. Strange feeling indeed. Also, I feel like maybe I'm not as funny as I used to be. Seriously, I wonder what I was on. I need to find that again. I hope that maybe, just maybe I can start writing again. I think I can feel those trickles of desire for the writing coming through. Maybe, just maybe. I need to reread everything. I hope I'm not embarrassed by what is here! <br /><br />I have gotten way intense about a lot of things over the last year. The biggest one is running. I can't seem to get enough of it. It's hard to find a circle of people that appreciate my passion. I haven't wanted to put anything not funny on here and force it down anyone's throat. Now I realize, I'm not making you read this. Seriously, click out of it at anytime! <br /><br />Day to day our thoughts consume us. No matter what we are doing our brains never stop working. This is an absolutely amazing thing. My brain is going constantly and usually not in the same direction for very long. See if you can keep up!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-66945721676407832972009-12-19T17:23:00.004-07:002009-12-21T13:17:14.132-07:00Chocolate Coins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZBmkQuagey9mzia3mCLj_TOkhAF9VnjOSeJ2RYpy5LeQETnVTl02tZG8s3VvOnoosruUoJwsO2FyZHogOyFO5K04I5MnOmcGKeMz23-kijlLjDlda_M40j8eICl7xturJmi7Pg/s1600-h/4108-smiley-face-chocolate-coins-250_280x280.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZBmkQuagey9mzia3mCLj_TOkhAF9VnjOSeJ2RYpy5LeQETnVTl02tZG8s3VvOnoosruUoJwsO2FyZHogOyFO5K04I5MnOmcGKeMz23-kijlLjDlda_M40j8eICl7xturJmi7Pg/s200/4108-smiley-face-chocolate-coins-250_280x280.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417785051442209138" border="0" /></a>Sundays we attend church at 12:30 PM. On Dec. 6th, we receive a phone call at about 11:00 AM. It was a guy asking us if we are missing something. Stephen looks around, checks first and foremost for his precious cell phone, then for his wallet. "Nope," he says. The gentleman on the phone began laughing as he said, "Well I have a 4 year old boy of yours here at the church. I think he must be lost, but he said he knows exactly where he is."<br /><br />Stephen hopped in the car and drove to our church. As he walked in there was a whole row guys that were acting like they received Christmas early. Apparently our family, especially Remi the devil child, is "too funny for words."<br /><br />Remi left our house around 10:30. "Mom, I am going to Grandpa's house!" I was pleased, one less child to wrestle with while trying to get my new boy hair do to sleek and sophisticated. Ha! Remi walked straight to my parents house. It was, however, locked. He didn't want to be bothered with ringing the bell, or knocking on the door. It was too much work. So, he decided to walk the 4 or 5 blocks to our church. He knew exactly where it was. He was already dressed in his church clothes so, what's the big deal? Right? He walked into the chapel and was directed by the men in there to go to primary. Good thing he knew where that was too. I guess he walked in, looked around, didn't recognize anyone, and sat down. He listened better than he ever has before. Stephen asked him later why he left us to go to the church. "Duh dad, they were giving out chocolate coins. I LOVE chocolate coins."Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-73681134176815362702009-12-19T06:29:00.003-07:002009-12-19T06:32:09.554-07:00Tell Me.......<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdcqJxlooLnAQFY96dOEIX9Uh7mqelj8Ejl24-OdCnMbvcod6tQsOVYKLcw99LwyApHyo6kMchbXBO_uDXeX6vPhpIBvlrEGSP2gHNvSbWJLMlg-YkQ3Pz6396Q4KIFOzzE4qnQQ/s1600-h/baby-hand.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdcqJxlooLnAQFY96dOEIX9Uh7mqelj8Ejl24-OdCnMbvcod6tQsOVYKLcw99LwyApHyo6kMchbXBO_uDXeX6vPhpIBvlrEGSP2gHNvSbWJLMlg-YkQ3Pz6396Q4KIFOzzE4qnQQ/s200/baby-hand.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416939497696897938" border="0" /></a><br />Why are baby's fists made so perfectly for purple nurples?Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-31703423991806090462009-05-25T06:46:00.002-07:002009-05-25T07:09:47.482-07:00More to follow!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipX2jEJSHYmQrWy3k-ZiAf9ASCEMwBTHZ1tBk9SqW8xbtgl8uoWBDsdM2jleRj6uy1Hv-I2Ig2dj4ts09PadTw6IMiIPYAIeUjfktb6g4qRhhTOeER2kc6foNtaQ0VDaD9l47d6Q/s1600-h/ultrasound.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipX2jEJSHYmQrWy3k-ZiAf9ASCEMwBTHZ1tBk9SqW8xbtgl8uoWBDsdM2jleRj6uy1Hv-I2Ig2dj4ts09PadTw6IMiIPYAIeUjfktb6g4qRhhTOeER2kc6foNtaQ0VDaD9l47d6Q/s200/ultrasound.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339763499275535330" border="0" /></a>For 21 weeks we have been waiting to see if my boys are observant enough to notice the huge protrusion sicking out of the front of my stomach. I am pretty sure that everyone knows that I have indeed found myself knocked up again. Well, my boys did not figure it out, apparently I always look swollen. We wanted to wait to tell them while I tried to decide if I am crazy for having another baby. We waited so long that we figured we would take them to the "big ultrasound." Actually our ultrasounds are a little anti-climatic. My ob does them. I am pretty sure he has the first ultrasound machine built. He can see all the things he needs to see, all the things that are important. In the grand scheme of things, the gender is not part of the important part. I agree wholeheartedly. That being said, I always really really want to know whether we are having a boy or a girl. This time, I was a little worried that maybe we would have both. Yikes! Well, we will not be having twins. We will be having one baby towards the end of September. If I were guessing, I would guess September 23rd to be precise. Thank goodness for planned cesareans. My doctor, bless his heart, THINKS we are having another boy. Hunter and Remi are completely stoked. Remi emphatically told me that he didn't ever want another sister. He could be right. Bentley might be all the girl this family can handle. Although I have decided that I am joining the ranks of neurotic women that bear children close to 18 months apart, for now, I am okay with it. Neurosis suits me.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-34319844954382272532009-04-27T19:30:00.003-07:002009-04-27T19:33:41.772-07:00Spring is finally here!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Rl1cpbZZ3TAXOpolAh3xUfr1y4Ol9Zpe_W9uDUm5v3tLCnjJAwoWojfhNPP7yipD-4vUOQnpGPC9GedIPxgRy8QJ1cnUgHas5MD8_Dmw976MXuMZS1r6ggoxpqKpHhUc3ZEDRA/s1600-h/DSCN4807.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Rl1cpbZZ3TAXOpolAh3xUfr1y4Ol9Zpe_W9uDUm5v3tLCnjJAwoWojfhNPP7yipD-4vUOQnpGPC9GedIPxgRy8QJ1cnUgHas5MD8_Dmw976MXuMZS1r6ggoxpqKpHhUc3ZEDRA/s200/DSCN4807.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329564735913335794" border="0" /></a>This picture is taken of a tree in our yard. I just love it. We live in an old house with a fully established yard. The woman that lived here for years and years had quite the green thumb. I am so excited to spend the summer with trees and flowers. We are so lucky to be here.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-52416791963220970762009-04-09T09:55:00.005-07:002009-04-09T10:31:24.896-07:00Indoctrination?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_bf8voU34lwTpgyVHZRKZDXjKQYYVSJHPPEz6EQ9Bj8xCy9Gi03UCyXLLdsHQFQYDvTocM4nLyR1ooUQo2al1BEAhVWZOIOviuXbMGJLwed3GbrkNU4mlZ6uL8pX2MPyG1Tx2w/s1600-h/indoctrinate.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_bf8voU34lwTpgyVHZRKZDXjKQYYVSJHPPEz6EQ9Bj8xCy9Gi03UCyXLLdsHQFQYDvTocM4nLyR1ooUQo2al1BEAhVWZOIOviuXbMGJLwed3GbrkNU4mlZ6uL8pX2MPyG1Tx2w/s200/indoctrinate.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322745557481622994" border="0" /></a>Here is the million dollar question for the day: Do we indoctrinate our children? On the one had it is obvious that we do. This is not always pejoratively done. We tell our children the same things over and over again. We teach them by repetition. I take my children to church every week. They are taught pretty much the same things over and over again. The young women recite a <a href="http://www.lds.org/pa/display/0,17884,6826-1,00.html">theme</a> each Sunday. Most Catholics can recite The Holy Rosary. What I am referring to in the negative side of indoctrination. Do we expect them to never question the "doctrine" they learn? Specifically I am referring to things like having elementary students stand every day and pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. My 4 year old can recite this pledge. He has learned it in his first year of preschool. He cannot recognize any of the letters of the alphabet, but he can recite a 31 word pledge. Don't get me wrong here. I am not upset by this, although some of you may know my thoughts on this "pledge." However, I do find it interesting that this is one of the first things we teach our children. I understand that my children attend state schools sponsored by the government. It makes sense that a government sponsored school would want to encourage the values of it's government. What doesn't make sense to me is that it is almost socially unacceptable to not recite the pledge. Sure you have your people that disagree with the "Under God" part. It is okay for them. But, what about everyone else? Although this rant appears to have gone absolutely no where, I still want to know: Is it indoctrination to have our tiny children learn and recite the Pledge of Allegiance over and over again?<br /><br />sidenote: I feel that I must put a disclaimer with this post as some of my previous posts have caused some hurt feelings unintentionally. I do not aim my posts at anyone in particular. This post does not mean that I am "unAmerican." I understand what a wonderful thing it is to live in this country. I support our soldiers. blah blah blah. Basically if you are going to be offended, go away. No one is making you read this.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-70082181261102397772009-01-28T12:28:00.005-07:002009-01-28T15:57:03.234-07:00Warning: Highly Flammable!Have you ever really looked at a package of tortillas? I have been examining ours to find the warning label about tortillas being a flammable material. I am considering writing the Mission Tortilla company and requesting that people be warned. Caution!!! Highly flammable material. Do not expose directly to the microwave for longer than 5 minutes. Do not throw into a heat source for too long. It will start on fire!<br /><br />A couple of crucial points to this tale. 1. We live right next to my parents. 2. Next to corndogs, tortillas are a main staple in our family. 3. I always heat them up for about 15 seconds to make them easier to roll.<br /><br />The other day, I ran over to my dads house to grab sometime that now is completely unremembered. I left Remi home watching the television. He is, after all, almost 4 years old. I was running 20 feet away, no big deal. My dad engaged me in some sort of distracting conversation. (Yes, I am blaming him, it is a lot easier.) I returned home to find smoke billowing out of my closed front door. Hysterical, thinking that our possessed computer had finally exploded, I ran into the house. I found Remi standing in front of the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHbSaiPimnrPRdUbm1dQhZ3WzZ-cA8YXE44psdqU7MbGebs7UFc6czto9vMq_Ba8UGI8XlW7felQ9tMwYHrscheQZEQQCr6Ms6P86Y7ryI_RUHKfY58SGz5yahgBKNFBbNFRFBw/s1600-h/microwave+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHbSaiPimnrPRdUbm1dQhZ3WzZ-cA8YXE44psdqU7MbGebs7UFc6czto9vMq_Ba8UGI8XlW7felQ9tMwYHrscheQZEQQCr6Ms6P86Y7ryI_RUHKfY58SGz5yahgBKNFBbNFRFBw/s320/microwave+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296481280652628946" border="0" /></a>microwave in a hypnotic trance. The microwave was running. It said 18:24. I have no idea how long it had been running but smoke filled my entire house. I shut it off and turned around expecting my sweet little 3 year old to be scared watching all the smoke. He, still in a trance says, "Mom, when you put tortillas in the microwave for a loooonnnng (stretching his arms wide for effect) time, it makes fire. Fire makes smoke. It is awesome!" Awesome? <span style="font-size:130%;">Are you kidding me?</span> I have tried everything to get the smell of burnt tortillas and cinnamon (I boiled a bowl of cinnamon water for 10 minute increments for about 40 minutes. Not my finest moment.) out of my microwave. Rather than take responsibility for my actions, or lack there of, by leaving a toddler unattended, I have decided that it is the Mission Tortilla company that needs to be punished for the smell and taste I have endured for 3 weeks. They need to warn everyone. Tortillas are highly flammable. Now you know.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-34199686725181144382009-01-24T11:12:00.006-07:002009-01-24T11:30:09.463-07:00Heath on Saturday Night Live Dream<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwcBv4mVLd0SsCeK9UyL_aOpfh8NATIpzP1bejM98aYGVN7cFr7cwk3MjTuMxlqQ4-Tu4eORoDwp94-ZN5hQmy083oRmIeXAbQGtB_dZcSHnlzcR8l0nuoPeQGtaMhPYCRr5gXw/s1600-h/Heath.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwcBv4mVLd0SsCeK9UyL_aOpfh8NATIpzP1bejM98aYGVN7cFr7cwk3MjTuMxlqQ4-Tu4eORoDwp94-ZN5hQmy083oRmIeXAbQGtB_dZcSHnlzcR8l0nuoPeQGtaMhPYCRr5gXw/s200/Heath.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294928033576758594" border="0" /></a>This guy Heath is pretty funny. Click on the link to see him on YouTube.<br /><br /><a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" href="http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=tejcriley&view=videos">http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=tejcriley&view=videos</a><br /><br />He would love to get on Saturday Night Live. SNL has to be my all time favorite program. I am very passionate about it. I found Heath on <a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" href="http://chinacaltons.blogspot.com/">Suzanne Calton's blog</a><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 0);">.</span> He does some great impressions. If you think he is funny, pass the word along. I'm sure he would appreciate it. Funny people like to make people laugh even when they are not present to see it.<br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><span class="huge">Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can: all of them make me laugh.</span><br /><span class="bodybold"> -..W. H. Auden</span>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-29823739794937357522009-01-23T17:50:00.004-07:002009-01-23T17:59:08.171-07:00Presidential Inauguration<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzikaBxsGvcADv0OvW4Z7qn30VUYO6a3xJhHhKIx8FDF-UljyO5huZnf26388GTqRT1iDFXFg1A__unYax-omeP6hnkhWoMqq2gBOuFFCNWX-ukmgQ6s4RdFIWvgXhGy1-IQr3g/s1600-h/US_presidential_inauguration_2005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294658460348597442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzikaBxsGvcADv0OvW4Z7qn30VUYO6a3xJhHhKIx8FDF-UljyO5huZnf26388GTqRT1iDFXFg1A__unYax-omeP6hnkhWoMqq2gBOuFFCNWX-ukmgQ6s4RdFIWvgXhGy1-IQr3g/s200/US_presidential_inauguration_2005.jpg" border="0" /></a> On Tuesday Hunter came home from school in a huff. "Mom, did you watch the news today?" I say, "Yeah, why?" He rolls his eyes, "Mom, you know what I mean, did you watch today or not?" I laugh, "Yeah, why?" Getting visibly frustrated, "Mom didn't you see Barack Obama. They had a huge parade." "Yeah," I say, "I saw it. So, why was everybody making such a big deal about Barack Obama?" This time his eyes literally rolled out of his head, "Because mom, duh, he is (pause for effect) the 44th President of the United States! Why did you think everyone was making such a big deal?"Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-84870641913500102352009-01-19T12:17:00.001-07:002009-01-19T12:17:48.275-07:00The 5KDecember was a pretty crummy month for me. I kept getting the stomach flu, weird. Anyhow, between that and the snow I really didn't run a whole lot. I was planning on running last weekend in the St. George Half Marathon. I decided to just do the 5K instead. My girlfriend Tiff has been kind enough to run with me. She went down too. It was so funny. I am pretty sure, it was my worst run of all time. Tiff has legs that go on forever. I kept up with her for the first 2 miles, but had to let her get a few minutes ahead of me in the third (more about that later). Anyhow, there I am running along, passing some people, while others pass me. I had about 5 people tell me what a good job I was doing. It struck me as kind of strange, being how they were running right along side of me. If I was doing good, then so were they. I thought about it later and realized that they were impressed to see a big girl. I forget sometimes that I am overweight. How is that possible? I had to laugh. "Way to go chubby!"Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-45287176087129979102008-12-10T18:43:00.000-07:002008-12-10T18:43:41.914-07:00Dinner Party Frock GIVEAWAY!!!!<a href="http://grosgrainfabulous.blogspot.com/2008/12/dinner-party-frock-giveaway.html">Dinner Party Frock GIVEAWAY!!!!</a>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-22229669283487203062008-12-09T16:28:00.010-07:002008-12-09T16:48:51.009-07:00My kidsRight now, at this very moment, I am loving my children. I am going to quickly put up a couple of pictures of them before those good feelings are gone.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3lMBhKRRBcTckfwe-pStjbcCLVvR6ggYYrXnFMytbGA_y8W2ZGcn58agopUn142QqrGW8kwwjGAkA7E5iVu_OQNrTYDwZg5wP4X6dpauQecr9o1tzfEkhmzYkzLpCZpJBnGldA/s1600-h/DSC00275.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3lMBhKRRBcTckfwe-pStjbcCLVvR6ggYYrXnFMytbGA_y8W2ZGcn58agopUn142QqrGW8kwwjGAkA7E5iVu_OQNrTYDwZg5wP4X6dpauQecr9o1tzfEkhmzYkzLpCZpJBnGldA/s320/DSC00275.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277937362985720802" border="0" /></a>Hunter will be 7 this month. He loves to be the star of the show and thinks that cameras were invented specifically with him in mind. He is actually really starting to be fun. I think 1st grade suits him well.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41m1W5RfhrpUPnsghD9sQepzCag1Dnbm-TxDBaiM4TUzifEu4-p3eOlJ1kHJY_3SsOaXVB0Y6LSMimH3G_6o-28X3u5MSf4MMAkucOU-DiShnWEjrMQSOiwmwY21Y7dvD0Of6LQ/s1600-h/DSC00096.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41m1W5RfhrpUPnsghD9sQepzCag1Dnbm-TxDBaiM4TUzifEu4-p3eOlJ1kHJY_3SsOaXVB0Y6LSMimH3G_6o-28X3u5MSf4MMAkucOU-DiShnWEjrMQSOiwmwY21Y7dvD0Of6LQ/s320/DSC00096.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277937772167183954" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Remi</span> is a breed all his own. He will be 4 in February. We call him Dr. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Jekyll</span> and Mr. Hyde. He is either the best boy or the worst, nothing in between. He wears this <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">hoodie</span> almost all of the time, and always with the hood on. He said, "MOM! Don't take my hood off, do you want my hair to blow away?!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRO-23h3BzNsLiA0rCqzZZD6RbyvZCVypR7qO6x_OKezzuTDXiO26FJ1PGtWBTy47B9T8uLr0_IAVKsT2AncsDSQzG1kPDGqevZ6A0QSxS13eOaN5wp9QqiUzI11PB6fola-ZnA/s1600-h/fall+08+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRO-23h3BzNsLiA0rCqzZZD6RbyvZCVypR7qO6x_OKezzuTDXiO26FJ1PGtWBTy47B9T8uLr0_IAVKsT2AncsDSQzG1kPDGqevZ6A0QSxS13eOaN5wp9QqiUzI11PB6fola-ZnA/s320/fall+08+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277938527016517170" border="0" /></a><br />Bentley is our baby. She will be one in January. She always lays like this. She was laying like this before she could even roll over. Strange, but she likes it. I was so nervous to have a girl. We even thought the doctor was wrong when he told us her gender. Much to my surprise, I have enjoyed her. She is definitely a brat, but I think we will keep her. The hospital will not accept returns. I know, we tried with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Remi</span>.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-28639886312276628882008-12-07T15:56:00.004-07:002008-12-07T16:35:49.133-07:00The fat girls unite<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr315MUNdiLSCsbx5ML20WgpWfwPQgfiyklhSwFlij0-bfMP7ejRcXqqXa0rYKDPAf74n4jCj5yjVzESOsUWfQz5398XDusRcGmhAl77aWr1ZB0Ldha2xjXgQPIx91s0yVdUcrDg/s1600-h/fat+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr315MUNdiLSCsbx5ML20WgpWfwPQgfiyklhSwFlij0-bfMP7ejRcXqqXa0rYKDPAf74n4jCj5yjVzESOsUWfQz5398XDusRcGmhAl77aWr1ZB0Ldha2xjXgQPIx91s0yVdUcrDg/s200/fat+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277194919396722850" border="0" /></a>For most of my adult life I have been overweight. There is an acceptance process that one goes through when they become fat. First step is denial. People say things like, "I am just bloated." "It's just baby fat." "My clothes shrunk." Excuses can run the gamete. The second step is trying to hide it. Wearing sweats, t-shirts, baggy clothes. There are usually a few more steps in the middle including crash diets, yo-yo weight loss and gain. Some of the signs during this phase include, but are not limited to: tears for no reason other than the fact that the peanut butter is gone; bizarre of lame excuses for new bulges; uncharacteristic mood swings or personality changes. Exercising like a crazy person, only to lay on the couch for the week following said workout. Skipping the salad bar and heading straight to the desert table. This sign signifies that the cycle is almost complete and your loved one is about to become an official fatty. Well, lucky for me, I am way past that part. I have been official for quite some time now. Part of acceptance for me was buying plus sized clothing. This was the most difficult part of my transformation. There is an amazing thing that happens in department store when you move past the intimate apparel, through juniors, around misses, and into no mans land. The styles inevitably change. The clothing industry in general has been under the misguided notion that only 70 year old women are fat. You know the ones I am talking about. The lady with an embroidered leaf on her shirt, or maybe a picture of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tigger</span>. Yeah, those women have it made. They can find clothes anywhere they please. But your average 20 something chubby has to look really hard. Imagine my delight when I find the one store that doesn't cater to old fat women. Lane Bryant. Glory be and hallelujah. I was so happy that I got a credit card. They have stylish clothes that are specifically designed for the horizontally challenged. It is amazing. Beautiful clothes for big beautiful girls. Wonderful. I was ecstatic, when I went shopping for new jeans a couple of weeks ago, to discover that my working out and eating healthy is finally paying off. I am currently wearing a size 4. Yup that's right. All 225 pounds of me fit into a size 4. Granted it is all tall, but still a size 4. After shopping, while eating my daily dose of chocolate I realized something. How can I wear a size 20 one day and a 4 the next? Oh, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">manufactures</span> of Lane Bryant clothing have redone the sizing. In an effort to make large women feel better, and desire to spend more money, they have claimed their own sizes. The fat girls united and claimed back the single digits. Move over skinny girls, I don't think there is enough room for both of us!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-70902316868451241362008-11-17T11:00:00.003-07:002008-11-17T11:28:53.955-07:00Just not feeling it<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqeQ7KPJgIpymFt8ix1B2k_VRe_0iIeNdUjw_NDMqladDDQcEG27v6etCwUgWOCodFhFEgTsW5Ae4M1QZOsGQxrM-UPyYnXok7ROiy_LhY2Tk5IZ86rHdeUYJWTDO_LwCVzDlD4g/s1600-h/uninspired.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqeQ7KPJgIpymFt8ix1B2k_VRe_0iIeNdUjw_NDMqladDDQcEG27v6etCwUgWOCodFhFEgTsW5Ae4M1QZOsGQxrM-UPyYnXok7ROiy_LhY2Tk5IZ86rHdeUYJWTDO_LwCVzDlD4g/s320/uninspired.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269695183296833666" border="0" /></a>So, this morning, so far, I have accomplished nothing. I sit here at the computer at 11:00 AM in my pajamas reading blogs, looking at pictures, and just wasting time. I have been blogging now for over 3 years. Through those years I have posted several different times with different subjects, photos, thoughts, etc. Lately, I am just not feeling it. I really enjoy stalking various people through their blogs, but I just don't want to stalk mine anymore. It is not just blogging either. I am not in the mood to do much except sit on my butt and watch the clock waiting for Stephen to come home from work. Stephen keeps wanting me to write about different experiences I have had lately: I changed that alternator in our van. I finally made the perfect chocolate cake, well not perfect but pretty damn good. Our children's latest attempt to drive my soul into the fortress of hell. The list goes on but really, I'm just not feeling it. Normally I could go on and on about some useless thing. Like the fact that 90% of the population has an "innie" belly button. Sorry Angelica, I always knew you were weird. But, I just don't feel it. I don't feel like me. What's up with that?Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-67418590299261922032008-10-28T08:29:00.004-07:002008-11-26T23:39:30.507-07:00Tag, I guessNote: During the making of this post a child was nearly killed. Actually the near death came after. While typing about my lovely husband, his #2, el diablo was eating blueberry muffins on my nice duvet cover. I am freakin out here. He is such a shit!<br /><br /><br /><br />My sister-in-law April tagged me to write about Stephen. I<br />don't know why I have struggled with wanting to do this, but I have. Of course I love my husband and think he is the bomb. But, I am a little uncomfortable getting all mushy out loud. But, I will try.<br /><p>*Where did you meet? We met sledding on "TV" hill in <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2Ql9PTwdOMl-YUESc3Ykvus0v5MoMLF2hH-nz-moWV6CDsIBhRVlkun81YKucBr0-kOiGIiaPeeCChOUaA36L_187ogXRDOHkboQSccXpzfg0nndyWrGHwKQFkGzkfnRVHyz2g/s1600-h/kiss+from+dad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2Ql9PTwdOMl-YUESc3Ykvus0v5MoMLF2hH-nz-moWV6CDsIBhRVlkun81YKucBr0-kOiGIiaPeeCChOUaA36L_187ogXRDOHkboQSccXpzfg0nndyWrGHwKQFkGzkfnRVHyz2g/s320/kiss+from+dad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262236514320145474" border="0" /></a>Oak City. My friend Angelica and I had been dropped off by her dad. (We were both still 15 unfortunately) He failed to mention to her mom that we changed the location of our days events from the sand dunes to TV hill. She did not know where to find us at the end of the day. We had showed up to hang out with Angelica's soon to be beau, who shall remain nameless. Well, Mr Knight in Shining armor got cold and left us up there by ourselves to wait it out. Stephen could not leave two mildly attractive girls to freeze to death in the dark. He stayed with us until her dad came and got us. He started a fire to show off his mad scouting skills. Wow, we were certainly impressed. Come to think of it, Angelica why in the crap did you date "leave us in the cold?" He was a bum! Okay that is not really fair. He was a cute bum. I forgive you.<br /></p> <p>*How long did you date before you were married? Well, we started dating pretty much immediately there after. That was January 1997. We got married December 16, 2000. Stephen took a break from me for about 2 years to serve an LDS mission. We wrote back and forth as much as you can when one lives in the jungles of the Philippines. He came home Oct. 12 and we were married two months later.<br /></p> <p>*How long have you been married? Almost 8 years.<br /></p> <p>*What is your favorite feature of his? His big blue eyes.<br /></p> <p>*What is your favorite quality of his? His mad scouting skills! Actually, he is really likable. It amazes me how many people like me. I guess he does not tick people off like I do. He is just so nice. He does bed time with the kids every night. He gets them all ready, says prays with them, and puts them down, every night without fail. I can't hardly do it when he is not around.<br /></p> <p>*Does he have a nickname for you? He calls me by my middle name, Marie.<br /></p> <p>*Does he have a favorite color? Utah Ute red.<br /></p> <p>*What is his favorite food? Ughh, I actually have never really thought about it. He likes whatever I make. I know he loves Mexican food though. Honestly, who doesn't?<br /></p> <p>*What is his favorite sport? Football. During football season very few channels work on our dish when Stephen is watching the games.<br /></p> <p>*When and where was your first kiss? Hold on to your hats. We were at a dance on Valentines Day in 1997. We were arm in arm swaying to the music our faces all nuzzled into one another. He was breathing really heavy on my neck, ooh la la then he planted one on me. Right there in the middle of the dance floor where everyone could see. I almost died.<br /></p> <p>*What is your favorite thing to do as a couple? As a couple, what does that mean? Oh time, without children. We usually rent a movie and I fall asleep. We used to be a lot more exciting. We would rock climb, hike, golf, snow board (on my honeymoon even) but now we don't do much together that does not involve sleeping.<br /></p> <p>*Do you have any children? 3 - Hunter, Remi, Bentley<br /></p> <p>*Does he have a hidden talent? Cooking. I guess it is not that hidden for anyone that knows us. But he is the cook in our family. In fact I used to be in a supper club. We met once a month, had dinner, then exchanged recipes for the entree we brought. I never had a recipe to give because Stephen, or Angie a couple of times, made my contribution.<br /></p> <p>*How old is he? 29<br /></p> <p>*Who said I love you first? Probably him, he is such a sap.<br /></p> <p>*What is his favorite type of music? Rock n Roll baby! (Metallica, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin)<br /></p> <p>*What do you admire most about him? I admire how forgiving he is. He never holds onto anything. He just forgives and forgets. He puts up with a lot from me, and he never complains, as far as I know. He is just a darn winner! He is definitely a keeper.</p><p><br /></p><p>So, I guess now I need to tag someone else to continue the chase. I tag Angelica, Brooke, and Angie.<br /></p>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-82928436900562973402008-10-27T10:58:00.002-07:002008-10-27T11:22:36.110-07:00It's rude not to<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUVAi9CHITdvVCQDlOQCmnaiivG1lCxk6sS9nTsTr0ARsvb0K84v4hcMNgx0auE9KTRiF063l6YizO8AgvUwkhWEGjyJWP-NhpCQYSf3DV6MitiY_jz03_mai8Fg16D7p5A80lA/s1600-h/Waving.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261900765283534226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUVAi9CHITdvVCQDlOQCmnaiivG1lCxk6sS9nTsTr0ARsvb0K84v4hcMNgx0auE9KTRiF063l6YizO8AgvUwkhWEGjyJWP-NhpCQYSf3DV6MitiY_jz03_mai8Fg16D7p5A80lA/s320/Waving.jpg" border="0" /></a> Well, I haven't written for a while. Truth be told, I haven't had much to say. Rural America is treating me good. For those of you who haven't had the distinct pleasure of visiting my home town, let me explain a little bit about it to you. It sits in a valley about 100 miles wide. There are about 3000 people in Delta itself. There are several smaller communities that surround Delta. One of the smaller towns is called Oak City. My husband Stephen actually grew up there. I think it was settled by two or three different families and then expanded slightly after that. Everyone is pretty much related, with the expection of my in-laws, of course.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Well one thing I think is so funny about Oak City is that everyone waves to one another. I am not exaggerating when I say EVERYONE. Maybe it is a town law. I don't know, but I find it particularly funny. I asked Stephen why this is so. He said, "Everyone waves because it is rude not too." Granted there are probably only 200 or 300 people that live in this little wonder, so the odds of knowing all occupants are pretty good. But still, somehow someone must have passed a waving law. Maybe it is like the good samaritan law on Seinfield. I haven't had the guts to test the limits, I always smile and wave back, no matter what. I had to laugh this morning on my way to my in-laws home. I saw this huge truck pulling a horse trailer full of horses. I was prepared for the waving rule, so I looked the driver right in the face. She was turning and had a cell phone to her ear. I figured that cell phone and trailers had to be among the expections to apply to always waving. One shouldn't have to wave if he or she is chatting on the phone while pulling a trailer. Rule #275 after the rule about not having to wave if the driver is trying to hand a toddler a sippy while changing the music from AM 700 to something without static. (Good luck with that!) Anyway, so I figure there is no way this lady is waving, right? Wrong, she waved. Not just a hand up and down wave. She actual moved her wrist. Keep in mind she was turning right onto the highway, pulling a horse trailer full of horses and talking on the cell phone. Obviously she had no choice. Because, after all it is rude not to.</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-32403612950767395312008-09-29T14:24:00.000-07:002008-09-29T14:25:02.284-07:00I whine because that's what I do.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJjfMYBGEhIWEfmB8E2g99rHcldHIgOVDb7rq67A7e1MxrkOb3djPZ0akYpnzoDHmchFZtfLl5wvzI_3FGZ87qaLWIr0Kyv3P8Iz7-2_qod_QDRMYemBKwRalT6rnXADoxVo-2w/s1600-h/whine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJjfMYBGEhIWEfmB8E2g99rHcldHIgOVDb7rq67A7e1MxrkOb3djPZ0akYpnzoDHmchFZtfLl5wvzI_3FGZ87qaLWIr0Kyv3P8Iz7-2_qod_QDRMYemBKwRalT6rnXADoxVo-2w/s320/whine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251555446675322562" border="0" /></a>Today I was chatting on the phone with a friend. We were discussing whether or not she was whiny. She has experienced some turbulence in her life recently and has been trying to share her feelings without sounding whiny. Is it possible to complain, without whining? I have been contemplating this. I complain about my children, but I am thankful to have them. I whine to any one that will listen about my latest upset. What is the difference? Why do I whine? The other night I had a tender moment that I have considered sharing. My 3 year old niece stayed with us for about 10 days. She was excellent! I did not realize that 3 years old could listen and do as they are told until she was here. Anyhow, every night we did our "bedtime routine" and got everyone bathed and dressed for bed. I was gathering the wet towels and lotion to put away, when one by one each of the kids gave me a kiss on the cheek. As I walked away, I could feel the wetness that they had left behind. Now, normally I would have some snide comment about slobbery slime or something like that. As I felt that wetness, I was suddenly glad that I was a mom and glad that someone wanted to kiss me goodnight. Strange I know, given all the whining I do, but I really am glad to be a mom. Over the last year, I have noticed my maternal instincts kicking in (yes I realize that my oldest will be seven years soon, better late than never right?) and I have felt closer to not only my children but other children as well. I love it when my friends kids are happy to see me. It makes me feel so good.<br /><br />Why when I have all these wonderful experiences do I whine about life? Because it is what I do. I whine, I complain, I bitch, I moan. It is not my favorite part of my personality. In fact, it is probably one of my worst traits.<br /><br />I want to know, who likes to whine? What do you have to complain about? What is really bugging you today? Today, I hate doing dishes. Not having a dishwasher is really grating on my nerves. I am complaining because I can. What about you?Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-20750254628438818422008-08-27T12:52:00.000-07:002008-09-18T13:44:07.694-07:00My hero<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFx8E5LjUR7ofQ718vw8uYFdJWZK4VkLdmnqTcdeu2a6Ckh9SIfHGq3iH_znSx-CGzKfhq6k5aTWTkyYmsVrpoN7BlBRnvmR3OLgeRdHfakwPBePpuVrqSxqElKl6oe5XWpukxsg/s1600-h/Meeshie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFx8E5LjUR7ofQ718vw8uYFdJWZK4VkLdmnqTcdeu2a6Ckh9SIfHGq3iH_znSx-CGzKfhq6k5aTWTkyYmsVrpoN7BlBRnvmR3OLgeRdHfakwPBePpuVrqSxqElKl6oe5XWpukxsg/s320/Meeshie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247464942653203826" border="0" /></a>Angelica tagged everyone who reads her blog to post about someone in their life that is a real hero. Now, you may or may not have noticed that I do not do tags. I don't know what my aversion is to them. I always enjoy reading other people's tags. Anyhow, I am taking on this tag because it is not about me. It is about my friend Mi'Chelle Millward Larsen. She is definitely my hero. I met Meeshie while attending Snow College. She was in my social psych class. I was newly married, newly pregnant and crazy! I don't remember what first attracted us to one another but we became friends. Meesh is the best friend that anyone could ask for. I have never met anyone else that radiates so much love. I have had other friends that I have loved as much as I love her, but I am not sure I can say that I have had any that have loved me as much.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-53227624374166245772008-08-25T08:45:00.004-07:002008-08-25T10:52:54.534-07:00Speak now!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_HYDRbrJ4kXfZj1CRFNU5cpLpv-rxXrhibxXnPv8V1jGLJvyinNv7mxEGWSam47aqVRMbAqBlnhAo2nGE6f1Y1dQUDGNggJCLhGD4GWQDN551NCr8g-B-uPYC5Q0HNMs0unoOw/s1600-h/link-to-me.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_HYDRbrJ4kXfZj1CRFNU5cpLpv-rxXrhibxXnPv8V1jGLJvyinNv7mxEGWSam47aqVRMbAqBlnhAo2nGE6f1Y1dQUDGNggJCLhGD4GWQDN551NCr8g-B-uPYC5Q0HNMs0unoOw/s200/link-to-me.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238514144003554850" border="0" /></a>Typically in years gone by I always asked people if they were okay with me adding a link on my blog to theirs. Or, I have waited until I received a request from them to add a link on my page. Links have come and gone from this blog. I am never quite sure what link adding etiquette is. In the recent months I have discovered a large amount of friends that blog. I can't keep track of what is or isn't out there. If you want me to add a link on my blog, let me know.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17196857.post-51567346997205489002008-08-22T16:59:00.002-07:002008-08-25T10:53:19.776-07:00Daily Affirmation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.escapefromcubiclenation.com/photos/uncategorized/stuart_smalley.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.escapefromcubiclenation.com/photos/uncategorized/stuart_smalley.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a>I deserve good things. I am entitled to my share of happiness. I refuse to beat myself up. I am an attractive person. I am fun to be with. I'm going to do a terrific show today! And I'm gonna help people! Because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04606700865072900655noreply@blogger.com2