<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729</id><updated>2012-01-03T12:05:33.184-07:00</updated><category term='prego'/><title type='text'>Flemmanog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>64</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-8090186471613306277</id><published>2012-01-03T11:54:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T12:05:33.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember Lily</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g-wlvbFdCT8/TwNPuNCYGZI/AAAAAAAAAjM/gIW6C1AFlpQ/s1600/Scan_Pic0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 358px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g-wlvbFdCT8/TwNPuNCYGZI/AAAAAAAAAjM/gIW6C1AFlpQ/s400/Scan_Pic0001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693482009118644626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4fr7T7X-Zh8/TwNPt7ydYRI/AAAAAAAAAjE/BVYAabWaeVM/s1600/lily1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4fr7T7X-Zh8/TwNPt7ydYRI/AAAAAAAAAjE/BVYAabWaeVM/s400/lily1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693482004488478994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b9kqqRz-zgA/TwNQEy33XWI/AAAAAAAAAkM/5T9BKkpt3qc/s1600/Scan_Pic0010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 281px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b9kqqRz-zgA/TwNQEy33XWI/AAAAAAAAAkM/5T9BKkpt3qc/s400/Scan_Pic0010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693482397232225634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GrtOKAwrrqg/TwNPvPb9UpI/AAAAAAAAAjs/99T_czpaNw0/s1600/Scan_Pic0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GrtOKAwrrqg/TwNPvPb9UpI/AAAAAAAAAjs/99T_czpaNw0/s400/Scan_Pic0003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693482026942681746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XlgT-g6VRdU/TwNPvhgmZ6I/AAAAAAAAAj0/FCv1JOCcGzU/s1600/Scan_Pic0004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XlgT-g6VRdU/TwNPvhgmZ6I/AAAAAAAAAj0/FCv1JOCcGzU/s400/Scan_Pic0004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693482031793989538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WKOYPGJf2Mk/TwNPuS50bXI/AAAAAAAAAjc/-wM-r4u3ig4/s1600/Scan_Pic0002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WKOYPGJf2Mk/TwNPuS50bXI/AAAAAAAAAjc/-wM-r4u3ig4/s400/Scan_Pic0002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693482010693365106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;March 19, 2002 - January 3, 2005  To learn more about Lily's beautiful life, click &lt;a href="http://lilyharper.org/lily/story/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-8090186471613306277?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/8090186471613306277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=8090186471613306277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8090186471613306277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8090186471613306277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2012/01/remember-lily.html' title='Remember Lily'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g-wlvbFdCT8/TwNPuNCYGZI/AAAAAAAAAjM/gIW6C1AFlpQ/s72-c/Scan_Pic0001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-4423203240467715135</id><published>2011-10-17T18:05:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T18:28:22.360-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Giveaway - Today It's On This Blog</title><content type='html'>While checking out blogs last week, my friend had a giveaway post.  The only thing you need to win is to be fast.  So here are the rules:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I will make something for the first 4 people that comment on this post.  It will be surprise and you will get it sometime in the next 365 days (yup, that's a year).&lt;br /&gt;2.  To get a special homemade surprise from me, you have to be willing to play the game as well.  So, basically, you promise that you will post a similar giveaway on your blog.  Only difference is, you only need to give a surprise to the first 3 people that comment.  I am doing 4 since my friend was super nice and let me slide in past the 3 comments. Thanks!!!&lt;br /&gt;3.  You need to have a blog, so you can post your own giveaway :).&lt;br /&gt;4.  Make sure you leave me a way to contact you.  So, if we're not friends on facebook or I don't know how to stalk you very easily, leave me your e-mail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy commenting!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-4423203240467715135?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/4423203240467715135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=4423203240467715135' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4423203240467715135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4423203240467715135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/10/giveaway-today-its-on-this-blog.html' title='Giveaway - Today It&apos;s On This Blog'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2012445129078333436</id><published>2011-08-05T16:43:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T16:46:07.111-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Giveaway!</title><content type='html'>Eventually I will post something about my life on this blog but for right now it's a link to a giveaway on my other blog.  You could be the proud owner of a super fun, ruffly scarf.  With fall right around the corner, you don't want to miss out on this chance.  Check out &lt;a href="http://itotallymadethis.blogspot.com/2011/08/another-ruffled-scarf-giveaway-style.html"&gt;I Totally Made This!&lt;/a&gt;  for all the details.  Hurry, giveaway deadline is 10 August, 11:59pm!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2012445129078333436?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2012445129078333436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2012445129078333436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2012445129078333436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2012445129078333436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/08/another-giveaway.html' title='Another Giveaway!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7475129266468555668</id><published>2011-07-20T10:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T10:15:54.442-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Giveaway!</title><content type='html'>The giveaway's not here but on my other blog, &lt;a href="http://itotallymadethis.blogspot.com/2011/07/as-promised-my-first-giveaway.html"&gt;I Totally Made This!&lt;/a&gt;  So go check it out and find out how you can win these bad boys for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-89Zi5mhFt0o/Tib_GLNTskI/AAAAAAAAAc0/Bj8lB68H1rs/s1600/DSC04679.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-89Zi5mhFt0o/Tib_GLNTskI/AAAAAAAAAc0/Bj8lB68H1rs/s320/DSC04679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631468865626288706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-7475129266468555668?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/7475129266468555668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7475129266468555668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7475129266468555668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7475129266468555668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/07/giveaway.html' title='Giveaway!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-89Zi5mhFt0o/Tib_GLNTskI/AAAAAAAAAc0/Bj8lB68H1rs/s72-c/DSC04679.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-6472666409626073954</id><published>2011-07-18T08:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T08:45:50.342-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog!</title><content type='html'>I have started a new blog called &lt;a href="http://itotallymadethis.blogspot.com/"&gt;I Totally Made This!&lt;/a&gt;  It's just a place where I can show all the stuff I make when I should be cleaning or playing with the kiddos.  Each post has links back to the original tutorial or other fun sites that go along with the project.  I'm planning on having lots of giveaways so check it out!  The first giveaway will be later this week.  It will be something for the kitchen.  Just click on the name of the blog and start making your own stuff!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-6472666409626073954?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/6472666409626073954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=6472666409626073954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/6472666409626073954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/6472666409626073954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/07/new-blog.html' title='New Blog!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2052043109933079437</id><published>2011-06-18T14:42:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T14:46:08.488-06:00</updated><title type='text'>God Bless America</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-seNla8zGf8Q/Tf0ObHb3MlI/AAAAAAAAAZs/QKfsNOG4KJU/s1600/american-flag-2a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-seNla8zGf8Q/Tf0ObHb3MlI/AAAAAAAAAZs/QKfsNOG4KJU/s320/american-flag-2a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619663769043415634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;While out and about today, we saw someone parachuting from the car.  I pointed him out to Josh.  Exciting.  About a minute later, Josh saw another one and says, " Look, there's another one and he has a flag.  He's one of our guys!  He's another American!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it folks - America is alive and well and the guys on our side can parachute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2052043109933079437?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2052043109933079437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2052043109933079437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2052043109933079437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2052043109933079437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/06/god-bless-america.html' title='God Bless America'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-seNla8zGf8Q/Tf0ObHb3MlI/AAAAAAAAAZs/QKfsNOG4KJU/s72-c/american-flag-2a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-8854294052998169816</id><published>2011-06-15T17:21:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T18:24:17.086-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Did It!</title><content type='html'>(You have to say the title like the boss from Mr. Mom when  he wins the race - I couldn't find the clip but check this one out &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iX3kxAA2L4Q"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  It's a funnier clip anyway.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the post at hand.  I totally ran a half marathon.  And I mean ran - not run some, walk some then run some more - I mean I ran the whole thing.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BAzjcQpo20c/TflH2I_fsMI/AAAAAAAAAYs/yLGyfcpsC7c/s1600/IMGP3731.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BAzjcQpo20c/TflH2I_fsMI/AAAAAAAAAYs/yLGyfcpsC7c/s320/IMGP3731.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618601005573714114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was so amazed that I was able to accomplish this feat.  It all started back in September when my sister MBD asked me to run a 5k with her and our other sister  on Thanksgiving in Arizona.  I was not a runner but I decided I was up for the challenge.  I began using the Couch to 5k program and man, that first day of alternating walking 90 seconds and running 60 seconds, I thought I was going to die.  I ran my first 5k on Thanksgiving Day 2010.  I think my time was just under 50 minutes.  So I use the term "running" very loosely.  Well, I continued my running with the Bridge to 10k program.  I never officially made it to the end of that program.  When I got to running about 5 1/2 miles at a stretch, my knee started bothering me.  I went to the doctor and he told me that it was nothing major, just some weak thigh muscles.  I could still run as long as I could stand the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued to run 2-3 miles 3 times a week.  I started officially training for the half marathon in March.  Things were going really well.  I had increased my running speed to about a 12 minute mile.  So I was pretty excited.  But the excitement didn't last long.  On my 7-mile run week, I was going to map out a run outside but it was still pretty chilly in the mornings and I figured I would just run on the track at the gym.  The track at the gym is pretty small - we're talking 9 laps to a mile.  So 7 miles is 63 laps.  That's a lot of laps.  And a lot of turning on the side of your foot.  The next day my foot was hurting pretty bad.  I decided to ice it and rest it that week so as not to create any major problems.  By the end of the week my foot was feeling better but my body decide it was a good time to get sick. Boo.  So for the next 4 weeks - yes, I said 4 - I was sick.  No energy to make it through the day sometimes, let alone exercise.  After a week and a half, I was prescribed an inhaler and that loosened everything up in my chest a little too much and another cold started.  Another week after that I had to start training again.  I did what I could and tried not to over do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week before the actual race, while still sick, I decided that I had to go for a long run as a trial to see if my body was going to be even close to handling this.  I mapped out about a 7 mile run and decided that I would walk when I needed to, bring my inhaler and my phone in case I need a ride home.  I ran and ran and ran some more and felt great.  I ended up running 8.34 miles that day.  The next week I took it easy again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day of the race came.  Tim got home from work and we headed down to Provo.  Tim stayed at a hotel with the boys and I stayed at another hotel with two of my sisters and one of my brothers that were running as well.  Lights went out at about 10pm but I don't think I fell asleep for at least another hour and then was up off and on until the alarm went off at 2:45am.  Yup, that early.  We had to get picked up by the bus at 3:30am so we would be all ready for the 6:00am start time.  Crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L_WzMRMMAO0/TflHAUCncrI/AAAAAAAAAXk/v5rFntHZlYg/s1600/DSC04593.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L_WzMRMMAO0/TflHAUCncrI/AAAAAAAAAXk/v5rFntHZlYg/s320/DSC04593.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618600080826659506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pp14-5ExUO4/TflKPOfaSkI/AAAAAAAAAZU/Px9MNrGSbx4/s1600/DSC04592.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pp14-5ExUO4/TflKPOfaSkI/AAAAAAAAAZU/Px9MNrGSbx4/s320/DSC04592.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618603635569740354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On the bus at like 3 freaking 45 am.  Way too early of a start time if you ask me.  But I guess you get done sooner then - still not fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jNnT-o-iTss/TflHA2i_-VI/AAAAAAAAAXs/sWvJIMVBmdk/s1600/DSC04596.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jNnT-o-iTss/TflHA2i_-VI/AAAAAAAAAXs/sWvJIMVBmdk/s320/DSC04596.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618600090089290066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S1VC53Cov6o/TflHBgwDkPI/AAAAAAAAAX0/HvfdIfX0uFQ/s1600/DSC04597.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S1VC53Cov6o/TflHBgwDkPI/AAAAAAAAAX0/HvfdIfX0uFQ/s320/DSC04597.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618600101418340594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Waiting for the race to start.  Upper photo - brother James, sisters MaryBeth, Sarah, me, Katharine, brother-in-law Greg, nephew Hayden.  Lower phote - just the siblings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lyDfUJ2k8I4/TflHByMqtFI/AAAAAAAAAX8/wUlMivXcuEA/s1600/DSC04599.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lyDfUJ2k8I4/TflHByMqtFI/AAAAAAAAAX8/wUlMivXcuEA/s320/DSC04599.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618600106101748818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At the starting line.  The sun finally came up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7UJ76UDFOs/TflHb1GT0LI/AAAAAAAAAYM/PsCFKgz1C9s/s1600/DSC04601.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7UJ76UDFOs/TflHb1GT0LI/AAAAAAAAAYM/PsCFKgz1C9s/s320/DSC04601.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618600553556988082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Still feeling pretty good while running.  Wahoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I started running and I kept running all the way to the end.  Sometimes I was definitely running super slow, but it was running.  Towards the end, my feet were hurting so bad and I just wanted to walk.  But I had come so far that I pushed through with every last bit of energy I could muster.  The volunteers and people cheering were great throughout but especially the last mile - lots of words of encouragement for everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j-_1qKjGhYQ/TflH3YenPFI/AAAAAAAAAZM/dT1TGeyDcQc/s1600/IMGP3747.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j-_1qKjGhYQ/TflH3YenPFI/AAAAAAAAAZM/dT1TGeyDcQc/s320/IMGP3747.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618601026910633042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sprinting to the end with every last bit of energy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, with an official time of 3:01:09, I ran my first, and quite possibly my last, half marathon.  It was an experience I would never trade and will never forget.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hdSCmyCPfLI/TflHcxhlYwI/AAAAAAAAAYc/XdLVrPA4dAA/s1600/DSC04605.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hdSCmyCPfLI/TflHcxhlYwI/AAAAAAAAAYc/XdLVrPA4dAA/s320/DSC04605.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618600569777513218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cnO0Qt-zWQU/TflKPoiiQWI/AAAAAAAAAZc/OpkVWnBg55E/s1600/IMGP3756.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cnO0Qt-zWQU/TflKPoiiQWI/AAAAAAAAAZc/OpkVWnBg55E/s320/IMGP3756.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618603642562167138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My sister MaryBeth - she totally rocked it out.  With a heel spur and everything she finished!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5981oMFWtKQ/TflHca8mRGI/AAAAAAAAAYU/3sXMPsdGmuk/s1600/DSC04604.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5981oMFWtKQ/TflHca8mRGI/AAAAAAAAAYU/3sXMPsdGmuk/s320/DSC04604.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618600563716801634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My sister Sarah who got roped into this thing and is now hooked on running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Aj3jZLwmU3Q/TflH2y70RKI/AAAAAAAAAY8/NLdH6VIaNIM/s1600/IMGP3743.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Aj3jZLwmU3Q/TflH2y70RKI/AAAAAAAAAY8/NLdH6VIaNIM/s320/IMGP3743.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618601016832574626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bill O'Rielly.  Just kidding, my brother-in-law Greg, who is going to start training for a full marathon - crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UVFPvjGPfbk/TflH2dTnxZI/AAAAAAAAAY0/JKRUP4VY-ps/s1600/IMGP3736.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UVFPvjGPfbk/TflH2dTnxZI/AAAAAAAAAY0/JKRUP4VY-ps/s320/IMGP3736.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618601011026838930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My brother James who did amazing.  He left us all in the dust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YZBCLkwXtpM/TflHdDAofkI/AAAAAAAAAYk/WDxoqYpSbOk/s1600/DSC04606.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YZBCLkwXtpM/TflHdDAofkI/AAAAAAAAAYk/WDxoqYpSbOk/s320/DSC04606.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618600574471142978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My sister Katharine who started us all on this running thing.  I don't know whether to thank her or kill her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T4i3XgUgVu0/TflH3BrG3cI/AAAAAAAAAZE/T4ZiaeGonKQ/s1600/IMGP3744.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T4i3XgUgVu0/TflH3BrG3cI/AAAAAAAAAZE/T4ZiaeGonKQ/s320/IMGP3744.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618601020789022146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My nephew Hayden - best action photo of the bunch - good job Tim.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-8854294052998169816?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/8854294052998169816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=8854294052998169816' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8854294052998169816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8854294052998169816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-did-it.html' title='I Did It!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BAzjcQpo20c/TflH2I_fsMI/AAAAAAAAAYs/yLGyfcpsC7c/s72-c/IMGP3731.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7009274169340485069</id><published>2011-03-24T13:31:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T14:10:30.176-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sewing Projects</title><content type='html'>Tim got me a sewing machine for Christmas last year.  I have been wanting one for a while but always talked myself out of it because I wouldn't know what to do with it once I got it.  I brought it up again this past Christmas since I am a stay at home mom now, I figured I would have some more time to figure things out.  A few weeks after Christmas it was still sitting in the box.  I think Tim was a little disappointed that I hadn't made him a three-piece suit yet.  So I opened the box, read the manual and signed up for a beginning sewing class at Joann's.  The class was really basic but I learned a ton and it gave me the confidence to start trying things on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUVWLXZ-3tM/TYud_57LijI/AAAAAAAAAWU/KFXFZM2XZuE/s1600/DSC04426.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUVWLXZ-3tM/TYud_57LijI/AAAAAAAAAWU/KFXFZM2XZuE/s320/DSC04426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587733483889592882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here's a pic of my machine and the little bag I made at my class.  I made a slightly larger bag for my niece and sister-in-law and then another one for a baby shower for diapers and wipes.  Fun practicing.  I also made some bean bags for the boys to play with.  No pics of those though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With those little projects under my belt, I thought it was time to search the internet for little things I could make.  I have been wanting placemats for our table but really haven't found anything I liked.  I mentioned possibly making some to my mother-in-law and she sent me a link for some tutorials.  Here's how they turned out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nIyWPfEaK4U/TYufSlW7bzI/AAAAAAAAAWc/HmfNpN2DbbM/s1600/placemat%2B2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nIyWPfEaK4U/TYufSlW7bzI/AAAAAAAAAWc/HmfNpN2DbbM/s320/placemat%2B2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587734904297975602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMkoEqyrbyg/TYufSzwXFzI/AAAAAAAAAWk/b8KmJ5FCiDg/s1600/placemat.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMkoEqyrbyg/TYufSzwXFzI/AAAAAAAAAWk/b8KmJ5FCiDg/s320/placemat.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587734908162742066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I chose this tutorial &lt;a href="http://www.allfreesewing.com/Sewn-Placemats-and-Napkins/Patchwork-Placemat-Tutorial"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; since it seemed easy and would work nicely with our plates.  &lt;a href="http://www.allfreesewing.com/"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; is the main site that will link you to tons of free tutorials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I decided I wanted to make a rag quilt.  I found another tutorial online and went to work.  There are so many tutorials out there and each one is a little different so no links.  You can pretty much just google "rag quilt" and a million come up.  And here is my first rag quilt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0OTV4rsImVw/TYuhcoqkSuI/AAAAAAAAAWs/-NBWfgG4IAA/s1600/rag%2B3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0OTV4rsImVw/TYuhcoqkSuI/AAAAAAAAAWs/-NBWfgG4IAA/s320/rag%2B3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587737276007598818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I made it really big for cuddling up while watching tv.  It's nice and cozy.  Although, after making a second one, there are a few things I changed and I like the second better.  I made this next one for a baby shower I am going to on Saturday.  I don't think Amy reads this blog, but if you do, surprise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KwSbwVwaANc/TYuiNduAkUI/AAAAAAAAAW0/CDIkT_6h0SQ/s1600/baby%2Brag%2B2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KwSbwVwaANc/TYuiNduAkUI/AAAAAAAAAW0/CDIkT_6h0SQ/s320/baby%2Brag%2B2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587738114882834754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I made the squares smaller on this quilt and placed an additional layer of flannel in the middle of each square to make it fluffier.  I also didn't wash the flannel before sewing.  I seriously wish I was pregnant right now with a little girl so I could justify keeping this quilt for myself, I love it so much.  Oh well.  My time will come soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, last sewing project (for this post anyway), I promise.  I found the cutest spring scarf &lt;a href="http://www.makeit-loveit.com/2011/03/ruffled-scarf-for-sewing-republic.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and figured I would give it a try.  It turned out pretty cute if I do say so myself.  This site links you to another site where you can download a pdf tutorial.  I searched around that site and found a couple other things to make as well.  But those will have to wait until the next post.  Anyway, here's how my scarf turned out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qrU4n5EEMW8/TYuj3zVES5I/AAAAAAAAAW8/oa0-hChd7Js/s1600/scarf%2B2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qrU4n5EEMW8/TYuj3zVES5I/AAAAAAAAAW8/oa0-hChd7Js/s320/scarf%2B2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587739941749934994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This has been a super fun present and I am loving every minute of it.  Although, with as much money as I have been spending on fabric, I think Tim wishes it was still in the box!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-7009274169340485069?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/7009274169340485069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7009274169340485069' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7009274169340485069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7009274169340485069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/03/sewing-projects.html' title='Sewing Projects'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZUVWLXZ-3tM/TYud_57LijI/AAAAAAAAAWU/KFXFZM2XZuE/s72-c/DSC04426.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2522640294864270920</id><published>2011-02-04T11:29:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T11:35:08.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wait, What?</title><content type='html'>This is Josh and my conversation coming up the stairs after school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  No, Josh you can't borrow toys from your friend's house.&lt;br /&gt;Josh:  When I have kids, I'm going to let them borrow toys.&lt;br /&gt;M:  That's fine.&lt;br /&gt;J:  I'm going to have two kids.  Will I have two kids?&lt;br /&gt;M:  That's up to you and your wife.&lt;br /&gt;J:  I'm not going to have a wife.&lt;br /&gt;M:  How are you going to have kids then?&lt;br /&gt;J:  Mom, you are going to have a girl baby in your tummy when Benj gets older.&lt;br /&gt;M:  I want to have a girl baby.&lt;br /&gt;J:  Yeah, you need a girl baby so then I can have a wife and have kids.&lt;br /&gt;M:  Wait, what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I need to clue this kid in on how that's not okay.  I don't even think they do that in West Virginia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2522640294864270920?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2522640294864270920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2522640294864270920' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2522640294864270920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2522640294864270920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/02/wait-what.html' title='Wait, What?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-8632438424170450975</id><published>2011-02-03T20:08:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T20:20:55.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Really?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUtwaLuKL9I/AAAAAAAAAWM/APKHJssoC5o/s1600/dino%2Btrain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUtwaLuKL9I/AAAAAAAAAWM/APKHJssoC5o/s320/dino%2Btrain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569668959299055570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Most of the TV the kids watch is on PBS.  Sometimes lame, but mostly educational and no adds for the &lt;a href="http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/05/too-much-tv.html"&gt;Better Batter Baseball&lt;/a&gt;.  Dinosaur Train is on right before we leave to take Josh to school.  It's a show about talking dinosaurs that ride on a train through time and space to meet and learn about other dinosaurs.  The main family consists of pteranodons and an adopted t-rex that hatched out of the eggs the mom was sitting on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I know you probably don't care about all that but you have to have the background for Josh's comment this morning.  I'm putting on Benj's shoes and Josh is watching Dinosaur Train.  All of the sudden he says, "Hey, dinosaurs don't wear hats!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really?  Out of all the things dinosaurs "don't do", like talk, ride on trains, time travel, etc, you point out that they don't wear hats?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-8632438424170450975?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/8632438424170450975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=8632438424170450975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8632438424170450975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8632438424170450975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/02/really.html' title='Really?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUtwaLuKL9I/AAAAAAAAAWM/APKHJssoC5o/s72-c/dino%2Btrain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-466180182403493271</id><published>2011-01-26T16:39:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T17:04:01.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Personalized Rubik's Cube</title><content type='html'>Tim really doesn't have any pics of the fam at his desk at work.  I thought making a personalized Rubik's Cube would be a fun way for him to show off his family.  I found a tutorial on a blog and tweaked it a little.  Here's how I did mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I measured one little colored square on the cube.  If you are using a name brand Rubik's Cube, each square is 16mm x 16mm.  I then made a row template 16mm x 48mm (48mm comes from multiplying the the 16 by 3 since there are 3 squares across and down.)  Then I picked out 6 pictures for the cube and cut them into a 48mm x 48 mm square.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx1ia8HiI/AAAAAAAAAWA/Ps3TXjUMuZU/s1600/rubik%2527s%2B1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx1ia8HiI/AAAAAAAAAWA/Ps3TXjUMuZU/s320/rubik%2527s%2B1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566644672760913442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, turn the picture face down and draw out a grid like a tic-tac-toe board using the 16mm x 48mm template.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx1dbvI7I/AAAAAAAAAV4/JOD2kH_NiX0/s1600/rubik%2527s%2B2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx1dbvI7I/AAAAAAAAAV4/JOD2kH_NiX0/s320/rubik%2527s%2B2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566644671422079922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut out the little squares and glue them onto the cube.  I used a sticker maker to do this part but a glue stick will work just as well.  My cutting was a little off but no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx1L40mNI/AAAAAAAAAVw/FeaOv4CAY-E/s1600/rubik%2527s%2B3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx1L40mNI/AAAAAAAAAVw/FeaOv4CAY-E/s320/rubik%2527s%2B3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566644666712234194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all the picture squares are on the cube, use modge podge, or something like that to keep the stickers from peeling up.  After sealing each side of the cube, let it dry.  Once dried, turn each section a few times to break up any glue residue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx0_FPtXI/AAAAAAAAAVo/LjBbYrXayDo/s1600/rubik%2527s%2B4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx0_FPtXI/AAAAAAAAAVo/LjBbYrXayDo/s320/rubik%2527s%2B4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566644663274681714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You can actually use the cube to play with or just keep it for show.  Some cubes come with a stand to put it on.  The picture below is my favorite pic on the cube I made.  Have fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx0r_n3rI/AAAAAAAAAVg/xYaN9_DqVos/s1600/rubik%2527s%2B5.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx0r_n3rI/AAAAAAAAAVg/xYaN9_DqVos/s320/rubik%2527s%2B5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566644658150825650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-466180182403493271?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/466180182403493271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=466180182403493271' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/466180182403493271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/466180182403493271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2011/01/personalized-rubiks-cube.html' title='Personalized Rubik&apos;s Cube'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TUCx1ia8HiI/AAAAAAAAAWA/Ps3TXjUMuZU/s72-c/rubik%2527s%2B1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-171936287740259893</id><published>2010-11-16T14:53:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T15:19:50.162-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Crafts</title><content type='html'>While I had many intentions to blog other things between these two posts, it didn't happen.  So here are a couple of fun things to do with the kiddos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These ideas come from Disney's Family Fun magazine.  I recently got a subscription from my Disney Movie Reward Points.  Wahoo!  Free stuff!  It was fairly simple to make, but it was a little time consuming.  Click &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/crafts/thanksgiving-stuffing-939309/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to download a template and instructions.  Here's how mine turned out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TOL_6qjdDGI/AAAAAAAAAVE/U-iyyw3v7II/s1600/DSC04285.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TOL_6qjdDGI/AAAAAAAAAVE/U-iyyw3v7II/s320/DSC04285.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540271874939620450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TOL_62U1oqI/AAAAAAAAAVM/5u-dbXWpQtA/s1600/DSC04286.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TOL_62U1oqI/AAAAAAAAAVM/5u-dbXWpQtA/s320/DSC04286.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540271878099542690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty cute I think.  I made two sets of food so it can be a matching game.  My sister is going to attach scriptures or quotes about thankfulness to each piece of food for Family Home Evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the next one.  I made a set of these years ago when I worked at a before and after school program back in MD.  This activity is a little time intensive too and works best with older kids.  Some people on the site said they used these as centerpieces for over 10 years.  Wow.  Anyway, click &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/thanksgiving/thanksgiving-craft-decorations/thanksgiving-table-decorations/village-people-663761/"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for measurements and such.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TOL_7lIRuKI/AAAAAAAAAVU/0IJCMXWUqNI/s1600/village%2Bpeople.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TOL_7lIRuKI/AAAAAAAAAVU/0IJCMXWUqNI/s320/village%2Bpeople.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540271890663323810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hopefully these will keep your older ones busy for a little next week.  If you don't like these, there are tons more ideas on Family Fun's site.  Have fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-171936287740259893?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/171936287740259893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=171936287740259893' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/171936287740259893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/171936287740259893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving-crafts.html' title='Thanksgiving Crafts'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TOL_6qjdDGI/AAAAAAAAAVE/U-iyyw3v7II/s72-c/DSC04285.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-69603036440454173</id><published>2010-10-28T10:00:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T10:37:08.162-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Halloween Crafts</title><content type='html'>I had some friends and their kids over earlier in the week to do some Halloween crafts and this is the first time I've had to post about them.  They are seriously so easy that if you read this before Halloween and want to do them, you will be able to without too much fuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First is a spider.  You need 4 black pipe cleaners per spider and some pony beads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the pipe cleaners and bend in half.  At the bend, twist a couple of times to make the head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmkxoZCbZI/AAAAAAAAAUM/sLRJT_q8QGY/s1600/crafts+3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmkxoZCbZI/AAAAAAAAAUM/sLRJT_q8QGY/s320/crafts+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533134789764345234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then, spread out the ends to make the legs.  Put a couple of beads on each leg.  Bend each pipe cleaner about 1/3 of the way down and add a couple more beads.  Make one final bend about 1/2 inch from the bottom, in the opposite direction to help your spider stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmlwwJXMbI/AAAAAAAAAU8/BVLyDiy6kxk/s1600/craft+6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmlwwJXMbI/AAAAAAAAAU8/BVLyDiy6kxk/s320/craft+6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533135874177839538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You can make it more Halloweeny by using orange pipe cleaners or beads - I could find neither.  Super cute and super easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, paper lanterns.  First take piece of construction paper and fold in half length wise.  Cardstock works as well - just make sure it is a heavier weigh paper so it will stand.  Next, make lines about 1 inch apart starting from the crease and stopping about 1 inch from the end.  It should look like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmkxcqw74I/AAAAAAAAAUE/G76RC3yaI74/s1600/crafts+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmkxcqw74I/AAAAAAAAAUE/G76RC3yaI74/s320/crafts+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533134786617470850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Now, cut the lines.  Once cut, open up your paper and tape the ends together.  Decorate with cut out shapes.  Punch two holes at the top for a string or whatever to hang your lantern.  You can make anything really you want.  I made a pumpkin, ghost and cat.  I was thinking it might be fun to do Frankenstein or Hulk with older kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmkyFbB51I/AAAAAAAAAUU/X0BzNdGl9uU/s1600/crafts+4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmkyFbB51I/AAAAAAAAAUU/X0BzNdGl9uU/s320/crafts+4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533134797557327698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last is a mummy.  Take a wooden craft spoon and glue on craft sticks for the arms and legs.  You can either cut regular size craft sticks down or you can buy smaller craft sticks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmlddgCJ1I/AAAAAAAAAUs/DVHpDJwCh84/s1600/crafts+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmlddgCJ1I/AAAAAAAAAUs/DVHpDJwCh84/s320/crafts+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533135542755141458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Once the glue has dried, start wrapping 1-inch strips of muslin around and around.  Glue down a starting point and wrap.  I used about 3 strips per mummy give or take.  Glue the end down.  Add a couple of wiggly eyes and you have your very own mummy. (If you are local and want some muslin or sticks ready to wrap, let me know - I have lots extra.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmld7kAWaI/AAAAAAAAAU0/ESSI75Dxa18/s1600/crafts+5.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmld7kAWaI/AAAAAAAAAU0/ESSI75Dxa18/s320/crafts+5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533135550824864162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Super easy and fun.  You can make these easier or harder depending on the age of your little ones.  Just have them do as much as they can.  Have fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to try and post craft ideas for different times of the year - hopefully sooner than just a few days before the holiday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-69603036440454173?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/69603036440454173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=69603036440454173' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/69603036440454173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/69603036440454173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/10/simple-halloween-crafts.html' title='Simple Halloween Crafts'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TMmkxoZCbZI/AAAAAAAAAUM/sLRJT_q8QGY/s72-c/crafts+3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-5885322078230249212</id><published>2010-10-14T10:11:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T10:30:05.493-06:00</updated><title type='text'>These Kids Need a Bucket of Chicken</title><content type='html'>Every year in honor of Pioneer Day, Bountiful has a parade on the 23rd of July.  It's kind of the trial run for the Days of '47 Parade in Salt Lake on the 24th.  We go every year.  Benjamin wasn't sure what to expect.  He must have slept through the parade last year, but not this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcsw_-4hyI/AAAAAAAAASo/pUhkwKh4xUY/s1600/parade+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcsw_-4hyI/AAAAAAAAASo/pUhkwKh4xUY/s320/parade+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527936287941101346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here he is just chillin', wondering what the heck we're doing sitting on the side of the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLctZhyCWeI/AAAAAAAAATI/mjY3RjIZ_9E/s1600/parade+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLctZhyCWeI/AAAAAAAAATI/mjY3RjIZ_9E/s320/parade+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527936984208792034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And then the parade started.  Screams of terror when ever a band, fire truck, police brigade or anything else loud passed by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcsxsrELEI/AAAAAAAAAS4/FLCC8dKz5TM/s1600/parade+3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcsxsrELEI/AAAAAAAAAS4/FLCC8dKz5TM/s320/parade+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527936299937573954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He gave up by the end and just chilled until it was over.  I hope we haven't traumatized him for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcsya9lMcI/AAAAAAAAATA/zIWxcFqBJXA/s1600/parade+4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcsya9lMcI/AAAAAAAAATA/zIWxcFqBJXA/s320/parade+4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527936312363266498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here's the KFC fl&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcu-HtTCVI/AAAAAAAAATQ/oy9Og3yoQUQ/s1600/grandpa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcu-HtTCVI/AAAAAAAAATQ/oy9Og3yoQUQ/s200/grandpa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527938712376379730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;oat.  We always have to clap real loud for this float and take a picture.  Growing up we used to have our family vacations to Utah.  My Grandpa Dixon, without fail, would say to my mom, "These kids need a bucket of chicken!"  and then head off to KFC to pick up said bucket.  Many summer memories were made with our grandparents around a bucket of chicken.  Thanks Grandpa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a video of the crying boy in action.  Sorry, Benj, sometimes I need to get a video instead of comforting you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-9c100f55830ddf6f" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v17.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D9c100f55830ddf6f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329972245%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4DABB2D786BE469569A06BEED4E7E6C197CA2D1D.2A94D98A43A797D54112C20C868B35D02CC3F1D9%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D9c100f55830ddf6f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DXK0pOQDvubuhM0TkT2OGeW2zRIA&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v17.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D9c100f55830ddf6f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329972245%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4DABB2D786BE469569A06BEED4E7E6C197CA2D1D.2A94D98A43A797D54112C20C868B35D02CC3F1D9%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D9c100f55830ddf6f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DXK0pOQDvubuhM0TkT2OGeW2zRIA&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-5885322078230249212?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/5885322078230249212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=5885322078230249212' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5885322078230249212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5885322078230249212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/10/these-kids-need-bucket-of-chicken.html' title='These Kids Need a Bucket of Chicken'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TLcsw_-4hyI/AAAAAAAAASo/pUhkwKh4xUY/s72-c/parade+1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7750072951588899439</id><published>2010-10-05T13:00:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T13:47:32.711-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bear Lake</title><content type='html'>Since our mini vacation that we were going to have was canceled due to &lt;a href="http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-dont-do-trash-wait.html"&gt;Tim's surgery&lt;/a&gt;, we used Tim's work retreat to Bear Lake as our vacation this summer.  You could camp out if you wanted but we opted to not.  I love camping, but with a baby, at someone's house I don't know, I didn't want to chance it.  Last time we did that, Benj had the worst cold ever and we were all miserable that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6r8mPhqI/AAAAAAAAARY/2mttukHCHGs/s1600/bear+lake+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6r8mPhqI/AAAAAAAAARY/2mttukHCHGs/s320/bear+lake+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524644263319537314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Benjamin wasn't too sure about the sand.  He stayed on the blanket for the first little while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6tO0xKxI/AAAAAAAAARw/wxh7o9hYmCc/s1600/bear+lake+4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6tO0xKxI/AAAAAAAAARw/wxh7o9hYmCc/s320/bear+lake+4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524644285392169746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He ventured off a little and was kind of disgusted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6tuXqESI/AAAAAAAAAR4/CDGZtZHMC6c/s1600/bear+lake+5.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6tuXqESI/AAAAAAAAAR4/CDGZtZHMC6c/s320/bear+lake+5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524644293860004130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He realized it wasn't that bad, except when he tried to take a swig of milk from his sippy covered in sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt-aPYxIVI/AAAAAAAAASg/YcRyC0bIyng/s1600/bear+lake+6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt-aPYxIVI/AAAAAAAAASg/YcRyC0bIyng/s320/bear+lake+6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524648357172158802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And soon there was no turning back.  Try changing a diaper when your kid looks like that folks.  Not fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt75hdr9HI/AAAAAAAAASI/pWcUDSERyAA/s1600/bear+lake+7.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt75hdr9HI/AAAAAAAAASI/pWcUDSERyAA/s320/bear+lake+7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524645596065690738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We sufficiently wore this little guy out.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt75wuXLHI/AAAAAAAAASQ/9phVFT55oyQ/s1600/bear+lake+8.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt75wuXLHI/AAAAAAAAASQ/9phVFT55oyQ/s320/bear+lake+8.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524645600162163826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tim's work rented wave runners.  Josh was super safe and had tons of fun.  We thought he might be a little scared but he was a pro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6svreo9I/AAAAAAAAARo/nx-nAOGe1Go/s1600/bear+lake+3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6svreo9I/AAAAAAAAARo/nx-nAOGe1Go/s320/bear+lake+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524644277031707602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6sH_koeI/AAAAAAAAARg/DhDsb7wpIdA/s1600/bear+lake+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6sH_koeI/AAAAAAAAARg/DhDsb7wpIdA/s320/bear+lake+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524644266378568162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt76O6kz5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-s08E4e_3oE/s1600/bear+lake+9.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt76O6kz5I/AAAAAAAAASY/-s08E4e_3oE/s320/bear+lake+9.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524645608266452882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;They also had some ATVs.  Josh had a blast on those.  The lawn was torn up by the time all the kids had a turn riding around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here a couple of videos.  The first is Benjamin crawling around in the sand.  The second is when we got back to Tim's parents' house that night.  Benjamin was a little crazy watching the dog run around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-f8201c07f7c7a960" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" 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href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7750072951588899439' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7750072951588899439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7750072951588899439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/10/bear-lake.html' title='Bear Lake'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKt6r8mPhqI/AAAAAAAAARY/2mttukHCHGs/s72-c/bear+lake+1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2669117569681024876</id><published>2010-10-05T12:21:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T13:00:03.011-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Trips Downtown</title><content type='html'>Josh loves trains.  Check out this post &lt;a href="http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/08/trains-trains-and-more-trains-by-way.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to see just how much.  To get in his train ride fix, we would drive downtown, park at the Salt Lake Central Station and hop on the Trax.  Trax is free in the downtown area and there are lots of fun things to do there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvk2vVQgI/AAAAAAAAAQg/ucqeEZFIAHM/s1600/downtown+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvk2vVQgI/AAAAAAAAAQg/ucqeEZFIAHM/s320/downtown+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524632046860059138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Josh did a lot of people watching on the train.  I was always afraid that he was going to say something inappropriate about someone.  We dodged that bullet way too many times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvmAZ8UyI/AAAAAAAAARA/-MUBLyec5I8/s1600/downtown+6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvmAZ8UyI/AAAAAAAAARA/-MUBLyec5I8/s320/downtown+6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524632066634568482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Alright, this picture is next since I can't manipulate the pictures the way I want.  Anyway, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has a museum downtown.  For the past couple of years they have had an "I Am a Child of God" exhibit.  We decided to go down one last time since they were going to change the exhibit at the end of August. You can find out what exhibits they have currently &lt;a href="http://lds.org/churchhistory/content/0,15757,3998-1-2126,00.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvl6JXJNI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/uwrnLZ4ENVY/s1600/downtown+5.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvl6JXJNI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/uwrnLZ4ENVY/s320/downtown+5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524632064954410194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As part of the exhibit you could build your own temple.  Josh was a little disappointed that his didn't turn out just like the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtwB1ehOZI/AAAAAAAAARQ/27qmGgq_VWg/s1600/downtown.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtwB1ehOZI/AAAAAAAAARQ/27qmGgq_VWg/s320/downtown.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524632544737311122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a picture of Josh showing off his swag.  A summer camp at the Planetarium was doing an experiment outside.  They were making mini rockets or something out of paper and straws.  Josh found one and had to have it.  His Simon doll came from the arcade.  We went to play a little skee ball and some man, who I can only assume was an arcade regular, left some tickets in the game machine he was using.  Josh took them to him and in return gave him the Simon doll.  He was so proud of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvlqgXn_I/AAAAAAAAAQw/PthZBN8frkc/s1600/downtown+4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvlqgXn_I/AAAAAAAAAQw/PthZBN8frkc/s320/downtown+4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524632060755943410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We would go to&lt;a href="http://www.clarkplanetarium.org/"&gt; Clark Planetarium&lt;/a&gt; as well.  They have movies and stuff you can pay to watch but even better are the displays which are totally free!  This picture is really fuzzy but after like 10 attempts, I was done trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvlXfWtXI/AAAAAAAAAQo/O0gcKGJqhHk/s1600/downtown+3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvlXfWtXI/AAAAAAAAAQo/O0gcKGJqhHk/s320/downtown+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524632055651415410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And I'll end with cute Benj.  He loves the train rides too.  Just recently we went on the Front Runner train.  He would look out the window until something caught his eye.  Then he would follow it with his head until it was out of view.  I should have taken a video.  It was pretty funny to watch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2669117569681024876?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2669117569681024876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2669117569681024876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2669117569681024876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2669117569681024876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/10/trips-downtown.html' title='Trips Downtown'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtvk2vVQgI/AAAAAAAAAQg/ucqeEZFIAHM/s72-c/downtown+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-4109588093248839149</id><published>2010-10-05T12:01:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T12:20:46.038-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing Catch Up</title><content type='html'>I have lots of things I want to blog about but I don't take the time.  Josh has a friend over and they are eating lunch, so I figured it was a perfect time to get a little blogging done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll start with our trip to the park.  We tried to go to the park every so often, but we didn't go often enough.  Sometimes we'd take a lunch with us and have a little picnic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtsJXFMaKI/AAAAAAAAAQY/YnenxdaqNfo/s1600/josh+swinging.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtsJXFMaKI/AAAAAAAAAQY/YnenxdaqNfo/s320/josh+swinging.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524628275970468002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Josh spent most of his time swinging.  He can pump pretty well now but still wants pushes to go higher.  When I taught preschool up in Logan, my rule was one push per kid.  I've since changed that rule with Josh.  It's much too fun to see him so excited to go higher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtqLmUruOI/AAAAAAAAAQA/OL_MDSqDppw/s1600/benj+park.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtqLmUruOI/AAAAAAAAAQA/OL_MDSqDppw/s320/benj+park.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524626115398449378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Benjamin spent most of his time eating snacks.  There are only two baby swings at the park so you have to be fast to get one.  He didn't mind too much.  He loves goldfish!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtqLbfKQgI/AAAAAAAAAP4/GYukA-u4OLQ/s1600/benj+park+mess.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtqLbfKQgI/AAAAAAAAAP4/GYukA-u4OLQ/s320/benj+park+mess.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524626112489603586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When I was off pushing Josh on the swing, things would get a little messy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtqLHk7yII/AAAAAAAAAPw/_YhrbznVCSw/s1600/benj+cute.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtqLHk7yII/AAAAAAAAAPw/_YhrbznVCSw/s320/benj+cute.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524626107145111682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I just like this picture of Benj.  I have some of the cutest kids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtqL-tbIpI/AAAAAAAAAQI/KT2TiTagBWc/s1600/DSC03934.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-4109588093248839149?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/4109588093248839149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=4109588093248839149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4109588093248839149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4109588093248839149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/10/playing-catch-up.html' title='Playing Catch Up'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TKtsJXFMaKI/AAAAAAAAAQY/YnenxdaqNfo/s72-c/josh+swinging.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-271383214705136009</id><published>2010-08-29T17:44:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T22:03:09.614-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best Dressed Kid in Town</title><content type='html'>My sister-in-law is a good shopper.  She finds the deals by shopping the sales, the clearance and the extra percentage off.  We're not just talking Target or Walmart deals though.  We're talking Polo, Gap, Carters, Old Navy, OshKosh, etc deals.  So my nephew is a well dressed kid . . . and so is Josh.  Why Josh you ask?  Well, my nephew was kind of a surprise to their family and he is definitely the last kid over there.  With only two older sisters, he needed all new clothes every year.  Well, since Josh is the nearest cousin in age, sex and distance wise, he gets all the hand me downs.  Josh has more clothes than Tim and I combined.  If you don't believe me, take a look for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we have jeans and shorts.  There are six stacks each about 4-5 deep.  Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-ppdwm9I/AAAAAAAAAPg/w474Y4hUYrM/s1600/clothes+4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-ppdwm9I/AAAAAAAAAPg/w474Y4hUYrM/s320/clothes+4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510997085499988946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here are the short sleeved shirts.  Again six stacks - each one about 9 shirts deeps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-otrJl1I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/pd2PgPVE794/s1600/clothes+3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-otrJl1I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/pd2PgPVE794/s320/clothes+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510997069450024786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here we have the long sleeved shirts and sweaters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-pA7ij2I/AAAAAAAAAPY/sJxmWIYOjhQ/s1600/clothes+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-pA7ij2I/AAAAAAAAAPY/sJxmWIYOjhQ/s320/clothes+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510997074619043682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we have the pajamas.  Yes folks, a whole drawer full of pajamas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-nzm9S2I/AAAAAAAAAPI/iHFAcZ2TZGI/s1600/clothes+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-nzm9S2I/AAAAAAAAAPI/iHFAcZ2TZGI/s320/clothes+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510997053863185250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last, but not least, the church clothes.  Here we have a half a closet of clothes he can wear to church.  There are enough choices in there that he doesn't have to wear the same thing to church for four and a half months!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-nUDMBnI/AAAAAAAAAPA/VM0mKqNNIfc/s1600/closet.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-nUDMBnI/AAAAAAAAAPA/VM0mKqNNIfc/s320/closet.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510997045391656562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might say, "Why don't you just put some in storage.  Oh, we have.  We have about 8 big storage bins in our neighbor's storage shed.  These are just the clothes that fit him right now.  I'm thinking about opening my own Kid to Kid when Benj is finished with these.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-271383214705136009?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/271383214705136009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=271383214705136009' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/271383214705136009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/271383214705136009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/08/best-dressed-kid-in-town.html' title='The Best Dressed Kid in Town'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/THr-ppdwm9I/AAAAAAAAAPg/w474Y4hUYrM/s72-c/clothes+4.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-6253805147731123022</id><published>2010-08-05T08:10:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T08:21:19.994-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Plea to Jane Austen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TFrIulUWoNI/AAAAAAAAAO4/f_Z3vsnb2fY/s1600/persuasion.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TFrIulUWoNI/AAAAAAAAAO4/f_Z3vsnb2fY/s320/persuasion.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501930597403500754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ms. Austen - I'm sorry that I haven't given your books and movies the time they deserve this past year and particularly this summer.  I have spent my time watching dribble including Desperate Housewives and Teen Mom instead enjoying the literary splendor that are your great works.  I know that I skipped over Sense and Sensibility on Netflix streaming to watch something lame that I can't even remember.  I know that Pride and Prejudice has been sitting on my shelf for many years without being watched.  I know that the only reason that I read one of your books recently was because it was part of book club a year ago.  I am sorry and did not mean to offend.  I suppose watching The Jane Austen Book Club when it came on tv was not enough.  I will begin watching Pride and Prejudice today during quiet time.  I will go to the library and check out Sense and Sensibility.  Please, just please let me find my copies of Persuasion.  Both are missing and they are not streaming on Netflix.  I need to find my Persuasion.  Again I am sorry and any help you can render would be greatly appreciated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-6253805147731123022?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/6253805147731123022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=6253805147731123022' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/6253805147731123022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/6253805147731123022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/08/plea-to-jane-austen.html' title='A Plea to Jane Austen'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TFrIulUWoNI/AAAAAAAAAO4/f_Z3vsnb2fY/s72-c/persuasion.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7933040050102253816</id><published>2010-07-18T15:39:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T16:06:44.187-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Forget the Sugar!</title><content type='html'>A while back on facebook I talked about some zucchini chocolate chip muffins I had made.  The were super yummy so I thought I would post the recipe here.  I started to make some yesterday.  I got them in the oven and then realized I didn't take any pictures like I wanted to for the blog.  Oh well, no big deal.  But then I realized I had forgotten something that was a big deal - the sugar!  I debated whether I should put sugar or Splenda in but didn't put in any at all.  I took the muffins out of the oven after about 3 minutes, spooned them all back into the bowl and mixed in the sugar.  I was hoping beyond hope that it would work since I had made a double batch and that was a lot of ingredients to just throw away.  I kind of knew it wouldn't work though.  My first clue was that some of the bottoms of the muffins were already cooked.  My second clue was that the chocolate chips had already melted and when mixed again with the sugar, my beautiful tan colored batter became a nasty brown color.  Here's what they looked like when they were "done".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN2cQu_EkI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/WrYixn2Lhp4/s1600/DSC03992.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN2cQu_EkI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/WrYixn2Lhp4/s320/DSC03992.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495366198222590530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well, I made them again today - a single batch - remembered the sugar and to take pics.  So here you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 1/2 cups flour (I use a mix of white and whole wheat)&lt;br /&gt;3/4 cup sugar                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon baking soda&lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon ground cinnamon&lt;br /&gt;1/2 teaspoon salt&lt;br /&gt;1 egg, slightly beaten&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup oil (can substitute some applesauce)&lt;br /&gt;1/4 cup milk&lt;br /&gt;1 tablespoon lemon juice&lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon vanilla extract&lt;br /&gt;1 cup shredded zucchini (I used my food processor and a big zucchini and the shreads were pretty big so I chopped it a little more to hide the zucchini from Josh)&lt;br /&gt;1/3 cup chocolate chips&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a bowl, combine flour, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sugar&lt;/span&gt;, baking soda, cinnamon and salt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN44Tfh9sI/AAAAAAAAAOY/OmeP2AVYsLE/s1600/DSC04000.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN44Tfh9sI/AAAAAAAAAOY/OmeP2AVYsLE/s320/DSC04000.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495368879022667458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Combine the egg, oil, milk, lemon juice and vanilla; mix well.  Stir in dry ingredients just until moistened.  (It will be a little thick. )  Fold in zucchini and chocolate chips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN4457Kn7I/AAAAAAAAAOg/UvKJMaf_0Yw/s1600/DSC04001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN4457Kn7I/AAAAAAAAAOg/UvKJMaf_0Yw/s320/DSC04001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495368889339125682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fill paper-lined muffin cups two-thirds full.  Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes or until done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN45HJQgOI/AAAAAAAAAOo/RK_bLq15dik/s1600/DSC04002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN45HJQgOI/AAAAAAAAAOo/RK_bLq15dik/s320/DSC04002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495368892887892194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voila!  The finished product.  These are great for breakfast or an anytime snack.  They freeze really well too!  We just pop them in the microwave for about 30 seconds and it tastes like it just came out of the oven.  Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN45hYBUeI/AAAAAAAAAOw/v5mWDrbcXLo/s1600/DSC04003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN45hYBUeI/AAAAAAAAAOw/v5mWDrbcXLo/s320/DSC04003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495368899929133538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-7933040050102253816?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/7933040050102253816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7933040050102253816' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7933040050102253816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7933040050102253816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/07/dont-forget-sugar.html' title='Don&apos;t Forget the Sugar!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TEN2cQu_EkI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/WrYixn2Lhp4/s72-c/DSC03992.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7586133049739677715</id><published>2010-07-07T14:46:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T15:12:58.044-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Do Trash ... Wait</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I don't do trash.  That's one of the jobs in the house that is strictly a boy job.  It wasn't long into the marriage that Tim found out this little tidbit about me.  After almost seven and a half years of marriage we haven't had any problems.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been off for the summer and have been trying to get some deeper cleaning &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and organizing done.  Needless to say there was a little more trash than normal.  Tim had been pretty busy at work so he didn't get around to taking it out.  This is what things looked like after just two days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TDTqV4N-NtI/AAAAAAAAAN4/ajQiebPEWrY/s320/DSC03827.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491271507260618450" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was even more by the door.  Gross, I know.  But remember, I don't do trash.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I didn't do trash.  Just a week after this incident, this happened.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TDTqWYHLj-I/AAAAAAAAAOA/NYI60SeI71k/s320/DSC03885.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491271515822067682" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;My trash man was in the hospital.  Tim started complaining about his stomach hurting Thursday morning when we were getting ready for our niece's wedding.  I didn't think much of it.  He complains about pains a lot.  We made it through the wedding ceremony and he was still complaining.  I thought he was just hungry because I didn't let him stop for doughnuts on the way to the temple.  But after the luncheon he was still complaining.  He didn't have too much time to think about it though because of all the goings on that day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday morning rolled around and he was still hurting.  He said he was going to call the doctor because he thought he might have appendicitis.  I probably rolled my eyes.  He's always self-diagnosing.  I have to remember though, he's usually right with his self-diagnosis.  He called from the doctor's office saying that he was going in for a cat-scan.  He ended up coming home first because he had to drink something or other before hand.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got to the hospital, had the procedure and they told Tim to go home.  I thought that sounded pretty weird so we stopped to ask.  The tech came out about two minutes later and said, "Wait right here.  Don't go anywhere yet."  Then in another two minutes she came back out and said, "Come with me.  We're going to admit you for surgery."  Crazy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things went really well with the surgery and recovery.  He even got some nice flowers and balloons out of it.  But the thing he liked the best, I'm sure, was that he didn't have to take out the trash for a whole week!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TDTtUhK7FjI/AAAAAAAAAOI/tQRjTRmzNXY/s320/DSC03888.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491274782428829234" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-7586133049739677715?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/7586133049739677715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7586133049739677715' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7586133049739677715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7586133049739677715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-dont-do-trash-wait.html' title='I Don&apos;t Do Trash ... Wait'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/TDTqV4N-NtI/AAAAAAAAAN4/ajQiebPEWrY/s72-c/DSC03827.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-4800889279948434212</id><published>2010-03-28T17:03:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T17:13:25.752-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Announcing the Next Democratic Candidate in Utah!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S6_h5GfgxJI/AAAAAAAAANo/iZ39SnMtB9w/s1600/donkey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 113px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S6_h5GfgxJI/AAAAAAAAANo/iZ39SnMtB9w/s400/donkey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453826044880536722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I live in Utah.  It's not a big surprise that Republicans abound here.  We do have our fair share of Democrats though, but apparently not enough.  I got home from work a few weeks ago and there was a message on the machine.  I listened to it.  I couldn't believe what I just heard.  I had to listen to it again to make sure I had heard it correctly.  I had.  It was the Utah Democratic Party inviting yours truly to run for office this year.  Apparently they are so hard up for candidates that I look like their best bet and I'm a registered Republican.  Go figure.  Better luck next year in Utah Dems.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-4800889279948434212?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/4800889279948434212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=4800889279948434212' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4800889279948434212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4800889279948434212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/03/announcing-next-democratic-candidate-in.html' title='Announcing the Next Democratic Candidate in Utah!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S6_h5GfgxJI/AAAAAAAAANo/iZ39SnMtB9w/s72-c/donkey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-9174374749122429859</id><published>2010-03-07T20:13:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T20:32:18.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Years and Counting . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5RvqU9W9rI/AAAAAAAAANY/XpXZ5CEML_U/s1600-h/married.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5RvqU9W9rI/AAAAAAAAANY/XpXZ5CEML_U/s200/married.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446100622369027762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It was seven years ago tomorrow that I married the love of my life.  It's been better than I could have hoped for and there are still many more great years ahead.  I still remember the feeling of comfort that came over me in the temple as Tim and I sat next to each other right before we were to sealed for time and all eternity.  I will never forget that feeling.  We were in the right place, at the right time and nothing could stop us, not even a water main break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, a water main break.  I got a call from the temple on Friday.  They said that there had been a water main break at the temple and it was closed.  Uh, really?  "What does that mean?", I asked.  Basically, they said we had three choices.  We could wait a week and get married in the Washington Temple when the break was fixed.  Not an option.  We had plane&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5RvNJPC4JI/AAAAAAAAANI/HUv3arvqBJ0/s1600-h/backhoe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 126px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5RvNJPC4JI/AAAAAAAAANI/HUv3arvqBJ0/s200/backhoe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446100121005777042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; tickets to Florida.  I was not spending my honeymoon in separate rooms.  We could head down to North Carolina and get married in the temple there.  Again, not an option.  We didn't have a marriage license for North Carolina.  Last option, we could get married in the Washington Temple as planned, but our parents would be the only ones allowed in with us.  We were breaking the fire code to do it, but what else were we supposed to do.  I spent the afternoon calling all the people we had invited to join us in the temple to tell them not to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While it was kind of crazy to think this was how we were going to start our married life, it was the most amazing experience.  The temple was so quiet.  We were pretty much the only ones there.  Lights would be turned on as we entered a room and then turned off as soon as we left.  There was such a feeling of peace, more so than any other time I have been to the temple.  I could not have asked for a more memorable experience at the temple.&lt;br /&gt;I love you, Tim and can't wait until I can say we've had another seven years together!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5RvXLOBczI/AAAAAAAAANQ/hIPFfKxEF0k/s1600-h/temple.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5RvXLOBczI/AAAAAAAAANQ/hIPFfKxEF0k/s400/temple.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446100293337051954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-9174374749122429859?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/9174374749122429859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=9174374749122429859' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/9174374749122429859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/9174374749122429859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/03/seven-years-and-counting.html' title='Seven Years and Counting . . .'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5RvqU9W9rI/AAAAAAAAANY/XpXZ5CEML_U/s72-c/married.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-5235042837029912496</id><published>2010-03-06T08:35:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T09:05:37.311-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tetris Incident</title><content type='html'>So, my mom is crazy.  She gets way too into video games and computer stuff.  Just recently she joined Facebook and got into Farmville.  I was checking my facebook before I went to bed the other night and noticed that she had posted something about farmville.  I checked the time.  It was at close to midnight her time.  I commented that she better be careful or it might turn into another "tetris incident".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The "tetris incide&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5J83fF5FAI/AAAAAAAAAM4/KNnyukDhK_Y/s1600-h/fullscreen-tetris.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5J83fF5FAI/AAAAAAAAAM4/KNnyukDhK_Y/s320/fullscreen-tetris.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445552192125211650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;nt" is as follows.  After I came home from my mission, my mom and I were the only ones living in the house.  We did lots of fun things together.  One of those things was have Family Home Evening.  Often, we would invite a friend who was doing an internship in DC.  We'd have FHE with an activity afterwards.  Sometimes we would play ping pong downstairs or a board game at the table.  But most times we would play tetris.  Now I know that tetris is addicting, but my mom took it to a whole new level.  We would all play together for about an hour or so then I would take our friend home at about 9:00pm.  Sometimes we would stay at his house and chat a little bit so I wouldn't get home until 10:30 or 11:00.  When I got home, my mom would still be playing tetris.  I'd head off to bed.  My mom and I usually wouldn't see each other until late morning the next day when I got home from school.  She would confess to me that she had stayed up until like 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning playing tetris.  She would play other nights as well after I had gone to bed just as late as the previous night.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CRAZY!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a month or so of this, my mom says to me, "We need to stop playing tetris.  I can't sleep at night.  All I see is little tetris pieces falling in front of my eyes."  "WE need to stop playing tetris?  Sorry mom, you're the crazy one that can't stop playing to save your life."  To save her from her addiction, I had to pack up the game and take it to work with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you're my mom's friend on Facebook, please &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt; feed her addiciton to Farmville too much.  It will get out of hand very quickly.  Love you mom!!!!  Oh, and don't look too closely at the tetris picture or you may start playing again.  I don't think Bill could handle it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-5235042837029912496?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/5235042837029912496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=5235042837029912496' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5235042837029912496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5235042837029912496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/03/tetris-incident.html' title='The Tetris Incident'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S5J83fF5FAI/AAAAAAAAAM4/KNnyukDhK_Y/s72-c/fullscreen-tetris.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7042333087286781805</id><published>2010-02-07T13:34:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:43:16.474-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Have a Breakthrough!</title><content type='html'>Yes, it's true folks!  After 10 months of waiting, Benjamin has broken his first tooth.  You really can't see it because his tongue is in the way, but it's there.  Not just a little bump under the gum, but a real, live sharp tooth.  I thought this day would never come and he would have to continue to eat pureed food all his life.  Yeah!  Now this guy can come visit us.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S28lxIfMuII/AAAAAAAAAMg/2b-RTFgaynk/s1600-h/tooth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 87px; height: 130px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S28lxIfMuII/AAAAAAAAAMg/2b-RTFgaynk/s320/tooth.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435604801281636482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-7042333087286781805?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/7042333087286781805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7042333087286781805' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7042333087286781805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7042333087286781805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/02/we-have-breakthrough.html' title='We Have a Breakthrough!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S28lxIfMuII/AAAAAAAAAMg/2b-RTFgaynk/s72-c/tooth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-5726024400590242211</id><published>2010-01-16T11:03:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T13:11:53.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Home Evening Equals Money!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S1IDfa30TvI/AAAAAAAAAMU/S1LTxqDcxqc/s1600-h/Tithing-01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S1IDfa30TvI/AAAAAAAAAMU/S1LTxqDcxqc/s320/Tithing-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427404339259133682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tim and I wanted to really start doing Family Home Evening this year on a weekly basis like we should.  With Josh turning five at the beginning of the year, we thought it was time for him to have a weekly allowance.  So, we decided that our first FHE would be about tithing.  We told Josh that he would get $2.00 every Saturday.  50 cents would go to savings, 20 cents to tithing and the rest for him to spend.  Josh was totally for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the next week, we told Josh it was time for Family Home Evening again.  We only had to tell Josh once.  He jumped right up on the couch and was ready to go with the biggest smile I've seen on him in weeks.  Our lesson for this week was on "God is the Father of my spirit".  After a couple of minutes, Josh said, "When are we going to talk about the money?"  "Well Josh", I said, we talked about tithing last week.  This week we are going to talk about Heavenly Father."  His once smiling face turned into the dirtiest look I've been given by him in a long time.  He glared at both Tim and me for the next couple of minutes.  But soon, the Spirit took over.  Josh came over and climbed into my lap as we finished our lesson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully by the time Benjamin gets his first FHE lesson on tithing, we'll have been doing them long enough that he'll realize that Family Home Evening does not equal getting money.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-5726024400590242211?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/5726024400590242211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=5726024400590242211' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5726024400590242211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5726024400590242211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2010/01/family-home-evening-equals-money.html' title='Family Home Evening Equals Money!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/S1IDfa30TvI/AAAAAAAAAMU/S1LTxqDcxqc/s72-c/Tithing-01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-8880325102649234618</id><published>2009-12-27T07:48:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T07:49:26.987-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Year in Status</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Szdz2iaetkI/AAAAAAAAAME/EWS6lDUlzhk/s1600-h/my+year+in+status.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Szdz2iaetkI/AAAAAAAAAME/EWS6lDUlzhk/s400/my+year+in+status.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419928057351681602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-8880325102649234618?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/8880325102649234618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=8880325102649234618' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8880325102649234618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8880325102649234618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-year-in-status.html' title='My Year in Status'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Szdz2iaetkI/AAAAAAAAAME/EWS6lDUlzhk/s72-c/my+year+in+status.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-3617536544385480312</id><published>2009-12-23T05:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T06:09:53.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Schedules</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SzIWj3RRvCI/AAAAAAAAAL0/nGeZOHp0QUo/s1600-h/alarm_clock_203_203x152.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 203px; height: 152px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SzIWj3RRvCI/AAAAAAAAAL0/nGeZOHp0QUo/s400/alarm_clock_203_203x152.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418418107067776034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Schedules are great for kids, especially little ones.  Josh put himself on a schedule very early.  He liked his routine and he stuck to it.  Benjamin took a little longer to establish a schedule, but he got it.  Schedules are the name of the game in our family since Tim and I both work and have to be out of the house every morning by about 7:30am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, I'm not liking schedules too much.  I have two weeks off of work.  I was hoping to sleep in at least a little.  Monday morning I was woken up by Josh at 5:50am to watch TV.  You might say, just turn on the TV and go back to bed.  First of all, once I wake up, I'm pretty much up.  And second, you can't really do that when your four-year old has woken up the 8-month old as well and he is listening to himself make screeching noises.  Tuesday morning, same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we are on Wednesday morning at 6:00am.  Boys are both still in their room with the lights off.  I'm hearing a little stirring but not much.  Why then, you might ask, am I up writing this post?  I woke up at 5:00 (my normal wake up time) and couldn't go back to sleep.  Schedules, this week, are overrated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-3617536544385480312?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/3617536544385480312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=3617536544385480312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/3617536544385480312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/3617536544385480312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/12/schedules.html' title='Schedules'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SzIWj3RRvCI/AAAAAAAAAL0/nGeZOHp0QUo/s72-c/alarm_clock_203_203x152.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-8531197725123381740</id><published>2009-11-29T18:47:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T19:06:03.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Advent Calendar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SxMoU8OGeAI/AAAAAAAAALs/HgR2Yn16DEM/s1600/lego.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 78px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SxMoU8OGeAI/AAAAAAAAALs/HgR2Yn16DEM/s400/lego.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409711917629863938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went online the other day looking for activity ideas to put in our advent calendar that we have.  Even better, I found a calender full of activities and scriptures to go along with each day.  Yea!  Josh is really into advent calendars.  My mom got us an advent calendar a couple of years ago.  It has doors for each day that you can put treats or whatever in.  Josh loved it last year and has been asking about it ever since he found out that Christmas is just around the corner.  So this year, instead of just one advent calendar, we have four.  The one my mom got us, the one I downloaded &lt;a href="http://www.kidscorner.net/media/pdf/2009_Advent_Calendar.pdf"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, a Legos one I found at Target and a cute Christmas tree pillow one I found at Shopko on black Friday.  I'm really excited to start all the activities on Tuesday night!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-8531197725123381740?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/8531197725123381740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=8531197725123381740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8531197725123381740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8531197725123381740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/11/free-advent-calendar.html' title='Free Advent Calendar'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SxMoU8OGeAI/AAAAAAAAALs/HgR2Yn16DEM/s72-c/lego.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2047402410917558737</id><published>2009-11-22T18:53:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T19:01:58.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chris Farley Lives On</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SwnrX29snLI/AAAAAAAAALk/qm7vqn4LmOs/s1600/the+chris+farley+show.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 74px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SwnrX29snLI/AAAAAAAAALk/qm7vqn4LmOs/s400/the+chris+farley+show.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407111622758800562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yes, it's true; Chris Farley lives on in my son.  On The Chris Farley Show, guests would be asked lame questions like, "Do you remember when you were in that movie?"  The answer, "Yeah."  Response, "That was awesome." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh has been doing the Chris Farley routine with no prompting from us.  He will ask us or anyone, "Hey, do you remember when we played in the gym the other day?"  "Yeah."  "We did that."  Or, "Remember, you came over to our house that one time."  "Uh-huh."  "That was fun."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad that Chris Farley lives on.  He was gone too soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2047402410917558737?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2047402410917558737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2047402410917558737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2047402410917558737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2047402410917558737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/11/chris-farley-lives-on.html' title='Chris Farley Lives On'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SwnrX29snLI/AAAAAAAAALk/qm7vqn4LmOs/s72-c/the+chris+farley+show.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-315366202084163209</id><published>2009-11-14T16:29:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T17:57:42.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Trip to the Doctor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sv9RWkIztJI/AAAAAAAAALc/Y29pk0Or3Ik/s1600-h/yelling.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 113px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sv9RWkIztJI/AAAAAAAAALc/Y29pk0Or3Ik/s320/yelling.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404127525967475858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, I've been trying to catch up on all my doctor's visits that I've put off while I was pregnant and after Benjamin was born.  I went to the dentist - all good.  I went in for a physical - things are good.  I went in for a check up for my sleep apnea - not so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was diagnosed with sleep apnea about two and a half years ago.  I sleep with a c-pap machine which I don't mind at all.  I haven't been back to see my doctor since my original diagnosis so I thought it was about time.  This doctor used to be my primary care physician as well.  I didn't care for him too much or for his staff but I didn't really know why.  Tim went to him as well and felt the same way.  He found another doctor a few months ago and convinced me to give him a try.  I went in for a physical about a week ago and this is the new doctor for me.  He encouraged me to do a follow-up with the other doctor for my sleep apnea.  I called and set an appointment while I was waiting to get some blood work done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an appointment scheduled for Thursday.  Awesome!  I was going to get this over with quickly.  I took off work in the middle of the day and headed over to the appointment.  I checked in, paid my co-pay with a check (they don't have a credit card machine - this is another reason I wanted to find another doctor) and sat down.  There was no one else in the waiting room so I figured I would get called back rather quickly.  Nope.  After about 20 minutes of waiting, the doctor comes out and motions to the receptionist, who is on the phone, to come back.  All the sudden I hear the doctor yelling at the receptionist.    This yelling goes on for about 20 minutes.  I could not believe it.  I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life.  Right before the yelling was over, a few more people come into the office.  The receptionist comes out, visibly upset, and checks them in.  About 10 more minutes pass.  So now I've been in the waiting area for an hour and didn't even want to go back to see the doctor.  Well, I did want to go back but just to tell him that he was very unprofessional and I was taking my check and leaving.  I asked the receptionist how much longer it was going to be and she said she didn't know.  I told her I had to get back to work so she gave me my check and I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know why I didn't like this doctor, he's a butt.  Never again will I set my foot inside that office.  I will travel anywhere else to find a new sleep disorder doctor.  What a jerk!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-315366202084163209?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/315366202084163209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=315366202084163209' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/315366202084163209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/315366202084163209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-trip-to-doctor.html' title='My Trip to the Doctor'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sv9RWkIztJI/AAAAAAAAALc/Y29pk0Or3Ik/s72-c/yelling.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2011532940923020770</id><published>2009-10-26T18:27:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T18:39:19.064-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Look Out, I'm Pretending to Be Crafty</title><content type='html'>So our ward did their Super Saturday two Saturdays ago.  They had some cute stuff to do.  I signed up for pillows.  I decided that my living room needed a little sprucing up and they seemed really easy to make.  They were so easy in fact, I made a whole bunch more for my bedroom as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All you have to do is get a placemat that is two pieces of fabric sewn together.  You undo the stitching on about half of one side and stuff it full of fluff.  When you're done stuffing, sew it back up.  Super easy.  And I'm only pretending to be crafty because I had my mom sew the pillow back up.  They were about $5.00 a piece to make.  The yellow ones were only $3.00 - those placemats were on sale.  Way reasonable if you ask me considering  some throw pillows I saw at the store ran anywhere from $15-$25.  Anyway, here's how our bed turned out.  Don't mind the wrinkles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuZAxcJpTwI/AAAAAAAAALE/1G8oTozjihk/s1600-h/bed+pillows+long.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuZAxcJpTwI/AAAAAAAAALE/1G8oTozjihk/s400/bed+pillows+long.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397072421564534530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuZAxnQzvII/AAAAAAAAALM/SCU0uieg-UQ/s1600-h/bed+pillows.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuZAxnQzvII/AAAAAAAAALM/SCU0uieg-UQ/s400/bed+pillows.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397072424547368066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuZAx5l_C1I/AAAAAAAAALU/vAomD4qhvpA/s1600-h/pillow+up+close.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuZAx5l_C1I/AAAAAAAAALU/vAomD4qhvpA/s400/pillow+up+close.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397072429468027730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2011532940923020770?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2011532940923020770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2011532940923020770' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2011532940923020770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2011532940923020770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/10/look-out-im-pretending-to-be-crafty.html' title='Look Out, I&apos;m Pretending to Be Crafty'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuZAxcJpTwI/AAAAAAAAALE/1G8oTozjihk/s72-c/bed+pillows+long.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-1510194600821730305</id><published>2009-10-22T16:31:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T16:40:59.114-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Still Have a ...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuDfRAwm5-I/AAAAAAAAAK8/zCnVnOcgjUU/s1600-h/beaver.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 149px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuDfRAwm5-I/AAAAAAAAAK8/zCnVnOcgjUU/s320/beaver.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395557836944500706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I felt like crap when I woke up on Wednesday morning.  I drug myself into work only because I told one of my teachers that I could cover for her in the afternoon for an appointment.  I got out the sub list, found someone to cover for me and went home to go back to bed.  Tim called the doctor for me and insisted that I go in to get tested for H1N1.  I went.  While they didn't actually test me for H1N1, the doctor seemed to think it was that considering the symptoms, especially the over 101 fever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Josh came home, I had my mask on.  I told him not to get too close because I was sick and had a fever.  Not a problem for him.  He was happy just to play trains and watch tv.  I headed back to the bedroom to take another nap.  After Benjamin was safely in bed, I made my way back out to the family room with my mask on.  I sat down on the couch.  Josh looked at me and asked, "Mama, do you still have that beaver inside you?"  Yeah Josh, I still have the beaver.  Thanks for your concern.  We've really got to get that kid's hearing checked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-1510194600821730305?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/1510194600821730305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=1510194600821730305' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/1510194600821730305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/1510194600821730305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/10/do-you-still-have.html' title='Do You Still Have a ...?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SuDfRAwm5-I/AAAAAAAAAK8/zCnVnOcgjUU/s72-c/beaver.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-5402936566084562166</id><published>2009-10-04T16:29:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T16:46:32.264-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'</title><content type='html'>Benjamin rolled over for the first time last week!  I was thinking that maybe he never would because I never give him tummy time.  Yes, I know, I'm a bad mom.  I figured he would get it eventually.  I mean, come on.  So here's some pics and a video.  It took a while to get the pics because once he got it, he didn't want anymore of this tummy time thing.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SskjwZutQLI/AAAAAAAAAKg/RjjDZelkwGs/s1600-h/rolling+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SskjwZutQLI/AAAAAAAAAKg/RjjDZelkwGs/s200/rolling+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388877743572992178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sskjw3jI2qI/AAAAAAAAAKo/qKN8MuPuuaI/s1600-h/rolling+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sskjw3jI2qI/AAAAAAAAAKo/qKN8MuPuuaI/s200/rolling+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388877751577533090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SskjxqyVLrI/AAAAAAAAAKw/Pxkc799HRew/s1600-h/rolling+3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SskjxqyVLrI/AAAAAAAAAKw/Pxkc799HRew/s200/rolling+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388877765331463858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Quilt is compliments of Tim's aunt in Oregon.  We love it!  Here's the video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-86370397420d0c1f" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v4.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D86370397420d0c1f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329972245%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D777425235B4DA9D05E4CF52DB1C55577BD12F7C3.5C7910433EF638F072A7CDCBD92431F70E618C41%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D86370397420d0c1f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DugXCql7S4hvRcDEHxWgxbBCDyAE&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v4.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D86370397420d0c1f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329972245%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D777425235B4DA9D05E4CF52DB1C55577BD12F7C3.5C7910433EF638F072A7CDCBD92431F70E618C41%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D86370397420d0c1f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DugXCql7S4hvRcDEHxWgxbBCDyAE&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-5402936566084562166?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/5402936566084562166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=5402936566084562166' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5402936566084562166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5402936566084562166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/10/rollin-rollin-rollin.html' title='Rollin&apos;, Rollin&apos;, Rollin&apos;'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SskjwZutQLI/AAAAAAAAAKg/RjjDZelkwGs/s72-c/rolling+1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-3782258716101076422</id><published>2009-09-29T17:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T18:00:02.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take Backs</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid, "take backs" was a big deal.  I could give someone something, but if I changed my mind, I could call a "take back" and it would be mine again.  It was great.  Sometimes, I was on the other end of the "take back" and it wasn't too great.  We got smarter as kids and started calling "no take backs".  You had to call it super fast after obtaining your new treasure or it could be taken back just as fast as it had been received.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week Tim and I have been on both ends of the "take back".  Tim was offered a new position at work a few weeks ago.  We waited to hear what his salary would be for about a week, all the time hoping it would be enough for me to stay home.  We found out the salary and it was enough!  We decided that I would turn in my resignation at work.  I gave more that the customary two weeks notice.  This is our busiest time of year and this don't really start calming down until the middle of October.  I wanted to give them enough time to find a replacement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With three weeks left until my early retirement, I get a call from Tim telling me that his work had called "take backs" on his new position.  Even though it sucked, we couldn't really do anything about it.  Tim hadn't called "no take backs".  Luckily, he still had his old position to go back to but without the new and improved salary his new position would have brought.  This meant we really couldn't afford for me to quit.  But I already had.  Had my work called "no take backs" on my resignation?  I hoped not.  They opened my position internally last Thursday so it still hadn't closed. I hurred and talked to my boss to see if I could call "take backs".  Thankfully, they let me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the ups and downs and "take backs" the past couple of weeks, we really can't complain.  Tim and I both have really good jobs and in this enconomy, not everyone can say that.  Josh has a great teacher at school.  Benjamin has an awesome friend watching him.  Our goal is still for me to be able to stay at home.  We'll just have to work a little harder and wait a little longer for it to happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-3782258716101076422?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/3782258716101076422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=3782258716101076422' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/3782258716101076422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/3782258716101076422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/09/take-backs_29.html' title='Take Backs'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2655987773598575316</id><published>2009-08-25T17:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T17:41:04.561-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Want to go on the Titanic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SpR2gqGi3HI/AAAAAAAAAKA/-SGFweC1iCg/s1600-h/titanic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 101px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SpR2gqGi3HI/AAAAAAAAAKA/-SGFweC1iCg/s400/titanic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374050558789475442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The other morning, Josh woke up and came out to the family room rubbing his eyes.  He looked at Tim and said, "I really don't want to go on the fire boat."  Tim asked, "What fire boat?"  Josh responded, "You know, the fire boat that goes in the water."  Tim asked again, "What fire boat?"  Josh said, "The Titanic, dad.  I don't want to go on the Titanic."  Tim asked him why and Josh answered, "Because it's going to crash and go into the water with all the people."  Tim was perplexed.  Here our four-year old was having nightmares about the Titanic.  What four-year old knows about the Titanic?  Had he seen the movie somehow and we didn't know it?  We don't own the movie and we've never even watched it at our house.  Maybe he watched it over at someone else's house while they were watching him.  Tim decided the best way to get to the bottom of this was to just ask Josh.  The question was posed, "Josh, where did you learn about the Titanic?"  The answer:  "I saw it on Reading Rainbow."  Thanks Reading Rainbow for giving my son nightmares.  'Preciate ya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2655987773598575316?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2655987773598575316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2655987773598575316' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2655987773598575316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2655987773598575316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-dont-want-to-go-on-titanic.html' title='I Don&apos;t Want to go on the Titanic'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SpR2gqGi3HI/AAAAAAAAAKA/-SGFweC1iCg/s72-c/titanic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-3937849009419146604</id><published>2009-08-24T21:18:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T21:39:52.257-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's All About Who You Play the Game With</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SpNassPRXtI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/wjtnRRBZRaE/s1600-h/munchkin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 95px; height: 137px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SpNassPRXtI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/wjtnRRBZRaE/s400/munchkin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373738504219090642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A long while back, Tim and I played a game with some of his friends called Munchkin.  I was assured that it was a fun game and that I should play.  Not so.  That game was the most unfun game of my life.  I had never played before, so the rules had to be explained to me as I went along.  In this game you have to battle monsters.  If you are unable to defeat the monster by yourself, you can ask someone for help.  Sounds easy enough.  I'm pretty easy going when it comes to rules in games;expect for Parcheesi - don't try to cross me in that game.  Anyway, I came to the point in the game when I couldn't defeat the monster by myself so I was told I could ask for help.  I said, "Okay, I'll do that."  The guy explaining the rule said, "No...you have to say, 'Ramon, will &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; help me.'"  Really?  I looked at him with the crustiest East Coast look I could muster and said, "Ramon, will you help me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since that day, I have refused to play that game.  Tim has tried to convince me to play it and even buy it.  No way.  But, this past weekend we went up to Bear Lake with some friends.  They were talking about the games they brought up.  Munchkin was among them.  Oh no.  Was I really going to have to play this game I swore I would never play again.  The nice side of my East Coast me won out and I decided to play.  But, I thought I'd better tell my little story from above so they wouldn't try to pull any of that lame, "Ramon, will you help me" crap.  My story was told, the game was played and now Munchkin is on the list for the next game we will buy!  So, thanks Brian for a fun weekend at Bear Lake and for helping me see that Munchkin really is a fun game.  While some may say, "It's all about how you play the game,"  I beg to differ.  It's all about who you play the game with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps - some names have been changed to protect the guilty&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-3937849009419146604?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/3937849009419146604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=3937849009419146604' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/3937849009419146604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/3937849009419146604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-all-about-who-you-play-game-with.html' title='It&apos;s All About Who You Play the Game With'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SpNassPRXtI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/wjtnRRBZRaE/s72-c/munchkin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-5811232183260979839</id><published>2009-08-19T12:13:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T13:24:50.822-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Trains, Trains and More Trains.  By the way, did I mention trains?</title><content type='html'>Josh is a train freak.  It started innocently enough with Thomas the Tank Engine.  Our neighbor downstairs liked Thomas so I recorded a few episodes for when we watched him at our house.  Well, Josh was hooked.  We watched tons of Thomas after that.  He then moved on to the train table.  His doctor's office had a train table and Josh loved to go to the doctor just to get a chance to play on it.  I had to plan an extra hour each visit.  We decided to get Josh his own train table at home and it has been the best purchase ever.  Josh plays with his trains at least an hour each day.  But it's usually more like two or three hours a day.  It's even better now that he can build his own tracks - I don't have to come up with new and exciting tracks everyday!  He can also point out any train in any book or show, even if it's hidden in some obscure place.  And he'll remember when it's coming up in a movie.  He'll say, "A train's coming" and sure enough, a train will appear somewhere in the movie.  Just like I said, he's a train freak.  Here's a picture/video trip down memory lane featuring Josh and his trains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh on Christmas morning playing with his train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPZrH_iaI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Xy6biYb7pzk/s1600-h/train+table+6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPZrH_iaI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Xy6biYb7pzk/s320/train+table+6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371755758037731746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying out new train track designs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPZOTu6jI/AAAAAAAAAJI/AjjISbnxPic/s1600-h/train+again3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPZOTu6jI/AAAAAAAAAJI/AjjISbnxPic/s320/train+again3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371755750302345778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh found a train at a park in New Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxParvR4rI/AAAAAAAAAJg/WV11CPAcvH4/s1600-h/josh+summer+and+head+start+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxParvR4rI/AAAAAAAAAJg/WV11CPAcvH4/s320/josh+summer+and+head+start+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371755775382381234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh riding the Front Runner, a commuter train in Salt Lake, holding a picture of said train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPbFluFzI/AAAAAAAAAJo/CoKaOEvOCgc/s1600-h/josh+frontrunner.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPbFluFzI/AAAAAAAAAJo/CoKaOEvOCgc/s320/josh+frontrunner.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371755782321608498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh is getting better at setting up his own tracks.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPaFnYXTI/AAAAAAAAAJY/6Se8FthGgzw/s1600-h/josh+train+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPaFnYXTI/AAAAAAAAAJY/6Se8FthGgzw/s320/josh+train+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371755765148704050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here's a video of Josh when he got his train on Christmas morning.  This is before he was a total train freak.  He's pretty excited at first and then just wants a snack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-c9b889854b875c0e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dc9b889854b875c0e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329972245%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D73E79E6B16A165BD4FDCC465C4FDA35B6AA3C53A.37A9C75D5B5C3CF6D4089745C43AED03CADDBCB4%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dc9b889854b875c0e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DcoM2gICizsKyWqkrtuZ6ANySBBg&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dc9b889854b875c0e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329972245%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D73E79E6B16A165BD4FDCC465C4FDA35B6AA3C53A.37A9C75D5B5C3CF6D4089745C43AED03CADDBCB4%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dc9b889854b875c0e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DcoM2gICizsKyWqkrtuZ6ANySBBg&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-5811232183260979839?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=c9b889854b875c0e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/5811232183260979839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=5811232183260979839' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5811232183260979839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5811232183260979839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/08/trains-trains-and-more-trains-by-way.html' title='Trains, Trains and More Trains.  By the way, did I mention trains?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SoxPZrH_iaI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Xy6biYb7pzk/s72-c/train+table+6.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-8948737347457677248</id><published>2009-08-07T10:21:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T10:51:08.783-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas in August?</title><content type='html'>Last December, I bought about 4 bags of gingerbread cookie mix for school and for cookies for neighbor gifts.  I only used one for school and was cookied out by the time it was time for the gingerbread.  Well, Josh found the cookie mix a couple of months ago and started bugging me about making the cookies.  But who wants gingerbread in May?  I kept it hidden for a while, but while rearranging our pantry, to make room for food storage - we've been stocking up this summer - Josh found the cookie mix again.  So this morning, we made gingerbread.  Complete with stars, hearts, pumpkins and trees!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxaaKu91WI/AAAAAAAAAIY/5llr8s2AfFs/s1600-h/DSC03623.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxaaKu91WI/AAAAAAAAAIY/5llr8s2AfFs/s320/DSC03623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367264261523232098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxaaZlU53I/AAAAAAAAAIg/8wLIWqMfJ2A/s1600-h/DSC03628.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxaaZlU53I/AAAAAAAAAIg/8wLIWqMfJ2A/s320/DSC03628.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367264265509332850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxabEGQUMI/AAAAAAAAAIw/YWbP2wRqfS4/s1600-h/DSC03636.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxabEGQUMI/AAAAAAAAAIw/YWbP2wRqfS4/s320/DSC03636.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367264276921733314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snxaaj13HGI/AAAAAAAAAIo/TRyAREza6mI/s1600-h/DSC03632.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snxaaj13HGI/AAAAAAAAAIo/TRyAREza6mI/s320/DSC03632.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367264268263038050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snxabb_MOhI/AAAAAAAAAI4/oqpUbFMqjBM/s1600-h/DSC03642.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snxabb_MOhI/AAAAAAAAAI4/oqpUbFMqjBM/s320/DSC03642.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367264283334556178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And after all the effort, this is all he ate - one little part of a heart cookie.  Oh well, we had fun.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxakhQpqxI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Pwe5ZUmprH0/s1600-h/DSC03647.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxakhQpqxI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Pwe5ZUmprH0/s320/DSC03647.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367264439368788754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-8948737347457677248?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/8948737347457677248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=8948737347457677248' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8948737347457677248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8948737347457677248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/08/christmas-in-august.html' title='Christmas in August?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnxaaKu91WI/AAAAAAAAAIY/5llr8s2AfFs/s72-c/DSC03623.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-1431038855029156473</id><published>2009-08-05T16:38:00.022-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T08:49:47.907-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Better Late Than Never</title><content type='html'>With a new baby here and a summer off of work, I thought it was time to do a little scrapbooking.  I was really excited to do a book for Benjamin.  But then I thought, Josh is old enough that he'll ask where his is.  The answer to that is "non-existent".  I figured I would start there.  But I didn't have all the pictures I wanted yet.  Most are still on the computer.  So I decided to start where I should have started 6 years ago--with a scrapbook of Tim's and my first year of marriage.  I found the scrapbookers new best friend.  The one-hour album in a box from SEI.  It is so reasonably priced at their outlet in Logan, I may never go back to figuring out my own layouts.  It has everything you need to do an album -  pre-cut paper, ribbons, buttons, tags, letter stickers, etc.  You just assemble and add pictures.  I put the album together yesterday while Benjamin was napping and added pictures today while he was playing next to me.  I'm going to keep the directions with paper dimensions for another album.  I'll just switch the order of the layouts and the paper so it looks at least a little different.  Here's the finished product (minus some journaling).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnroH6pJpsI/AAAAAAAAAF4/HkO4cq2hHq8/s1600-h/timemma1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 311px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnroH6pJpsI/AAAAAAAAAF4/HkO4cq2hHq8/s320/timemma1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366857128663951042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnroPmda6xI/AAAAAAAAAGA/P6EGKqXDQHk/s1600-h/timemma2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 313px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnroPmda6xI/AAAAAAAAAGA/P6EGKqXDQHk/s320/timemma2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366857260684995346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrokbWlwbI/AAAAAAAAAGI/r7Sc8unKKoo/s1600-h/timemma3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 317px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrokbWlwbI/AAAAAAAAAGI/r7Sc8unKKoo/s320/timemma3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366857618480808370" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snrox_2xSlI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Lo-4nirbii8/s1600-h/timemma4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 316px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snrox_2xSlI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Lo-4nirbii8/s320/timemma4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366857851617757778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snro1mTSqrI/AAAAAAAAAGY/65C8Uabz3-M/s1600-h/timemma5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 315px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snro1mTSqrI/AAAAAAAAAGY/65C8Uabz3-M/s320/timemma5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366857913477540530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snro5A25evI/AAAAAAAAAGg/2fDdQYpDx1k/s1600-h/timemma6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 316px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snro5A25evI/AAAAAAAAAGg/2fDdQYpDx1k/s320/timemma6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366857972145814258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snro-EA4h2I/AAAAAAAAAGo/yNVt126HNR8/s1600-h/timemma7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 313px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snro-EA4h2I/AAAAAAAAAGo/yNVt126HNR8/s320/timemma7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858058892347234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpBBDJ1RI/AAAAAAAAAGw/2AIr5YLeN2A/s1600-h/timemma8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpBBDJ1RI/AAAAAAAAAGw/2AIr5YLeN2A/s320/timemma8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858109636171026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpFO565QI/AAAAAAAAAG4/X-kEJr9Tufw/s1600-h/timemma9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpFO565QI/AAAAAAAAAG4/X-kEJr9Tufw/s320/timemma9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858182075016450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpKNDojMI/AAAAAAAAAHA/5O3p9rTli8g/s1600-h/timemma10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 309px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpKNDojMI/AAAAAAAAAHA/5O3p9rTli8g/s320/timemma10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858267478232258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpNMq6B-I/AAAAAAAAAHI/-5U4cOuW1y4/s1600-h/timemma11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 317px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpNMq6B-I/AAAAAAAAAHI/-5U4cOuW1y4/s320/timemma11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858318914127842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpQNr5oWI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/s-pQJkfWtQ8/s1600-h/timemma12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpQNr5oWI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/s-pQJkfWtQ8/s320/timemma12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858370726338914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpTDTrMGI/AAAAAAAAAHY/uupleBuiHlk/s1600-h/timemma13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpTDTrMGI/AAAAAAAAAHY/uupleBuiHlk/s320/timemma13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858419479982178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpWEEH7dI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Q3Degogg5TY/s1600-h/timemma14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpWEEH7dI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Q3Degogg5TY/s320/timemma14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858471222799826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpZWnBWgI/AAAAAAAAAHo/iKylyEfkG7g/s1600-h/timemma15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpZWnBWgI/AAAAAAAAAHo/iKylyEfkG7g/s320/timemma15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858527740615170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpfX6-hLI/AAAAAAAAAHw/55f5UVMJDsA/s1600-h/timemma16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 313px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpfX6-hLI/AAAAAAAAAHw/55f5UVMJDsA/s320/timemma16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858631171966130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snrpi5vwZKI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Jn9tHQUCzjE/s1600-h/timemma17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 316px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snrpi5vwZKI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Jn9tHQUCzjE/s320/timemma17.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858691791316130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpmPYgESI/AAAAAAAAAIA/zwBI_jNFELw/s1600-h/timemma18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 318px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrpmPYgESI/AAAAAAAAAIA/zwBI_jNFELw/s320/timemma18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858749138964770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrppI0sGtI/AAAAAAAAAII/xnFdC3iTipk/s1600-h/timemma19.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnrppI0sGtI/AAAAAAAAAII/xnFdC3iTipk/s320/timemma19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858798917753554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snrpsa5dAlI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/2RauTE9q5V0/s1600-h/timemma20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 311px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Snrpsa5dAlI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/2RauTE9q5V0/s320/timemma20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366858855309181522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Josh's and Benjamin's baby albums are put together.  I just need to develop some pictures and then I'll post them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-1431038855029156473?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/1431038855029156473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=1431038855029156473' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/1431038855029156473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/1431038855029156473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/08/better-late-than-never.html' title='Better Late Than Never'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SnroH6pJpsI/AAAAAAAAAF4/HkO4cq2hHq8/s72-c/timemma1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-98755628005360215</id><published>2009-07-26T18:39:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T18:47:21.936-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Can You Say Repressed Aggression?</title><content type='html'>When Tim picked up Josh from Primary today, he happily showed him his picture.  He pointed out daddy with the glasses and mommy with the big hair.  (As well as other big things - we won't go there right now.)  Tim says to Josh, "But where's Benjamin?"  To which Josh replies, "I'm sitting on him and I'm sucking on his binkie."  Oh boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Smz4FKcZK4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/qFlD8zi-AK4/s1600-h/repressed+aggression.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Smz4FKcZK4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/qFlD8zi-AK4/s400/repressed+aggression.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362934023877897090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-98755628005360215?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/98755628005360215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=98755628005360215' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/98755628005360215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/98755628005360215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/07/can-you-say-repressed-aggression.html' title='Can You Say Repressed Aggression?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Smz4FKcZK4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/qFlD8zi-AK4/s72-c/repressed+aggression.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-1379269998222939863</id><published>2009-07-23T14:24:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T22:10:51.798-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Pioneer Day</title><content type='html'>In honor of Pioneer Day, Josh, Benjamin and I went to This Is The Place Heritage Park along with my friend Lucinda and her two boys and nephew.  She had a buy one, get one free deal so I figured I could handle it monetarily.  We really lucked out though.  Right as we got there, some lady asked us if we wanted to get in on her season pass.  The people she had invited to come with her ended up not coming and her pass could get in up to 6 adults and 6 kids.  Sweet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have it set up like Utah looked like back in Pioneer days, complete with volunteers dressed up in pioneers clothes working in the yard, shops, hotels, schools and stores.  They would talk to you about what life was like for them as a pioneer.  It was really cool.  Josh went to a leather shop and was able to stamp out a piece of leather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also had a little pony ride.  I was actually pretty surprised that Josh went on the pony all by himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmkzbKrzI_I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/pqPHpPDOGBA/s1600-h/josh+pony+ride.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmkzbKrzI_I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/pqPHpPDOGBA/s320/josh+pony+ride.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361873373178831858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the baby animal area where you could pet the lambs and goats.  Josh was all about the lambs.  He wasn't too sure about the goats though.  I think the horns scared him a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmkzbZF4QuI/AAAAAAAAAEY/k02Fm225JDk/s1600-h/josh+sheep.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmkzbZF4QuI/AAAAAAAAAEY/k02Fm225JDk/s320/josh+sheep.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361873377046315746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also had a little play town the kids could play in.  There was a big train as well.  Of course, Josh spent most of his time there.  It was pretty funny to listen to his story line as he was playing.  I had to give back my nice phone so I didn't get a good video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Smkzb7ePZvI/AAAAAAAAAEg/IAPdELgAunY/s1600-h/josh+train.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Smkzb7ePZvI/AAAAAAAAAEg/IAPdELgAunY/s320/josh+train.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361873386275301106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside of the pioneer area, they have a monument to different pioneer groups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a picture of the statue honoring the handcart pioneers.  We have ancestors that came across the plains in the Martin Handcart Company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Smkza9-TXvI/AAAAAAAAAEI/m10kXFrIaho/s1600-h/handcarts.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Smkza9-TXvI/AAAAAAAAAEI/m10kXFrIaho/s320/handcarts.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361873369766780658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a picture of Bryant Stringham's name.  He is my great-great-grandfather who came across the plains with the first group of pioneers and Brigham Young.  He was there when Brigham Young said, "This is the right place, drive on."&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmkzakocUZI/AAAAAAAAAEA/qq9Ix7rsw9M/s1600-h/bryant+stringham.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmkzakocUZI/AAAAAAAAAEA/qq9Ix7rsw9M/s320/bryant+stringham.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361873362964205970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even with the heat and the major sunburn on my neck afterwards, it was such a fun day.  It was great to think back on the pioneers and all that they did.  We will definitely make this a tradition!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-1379269998222939863?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/1379269998222939863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=1379269998222939863' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/1379269998222939863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/1379269998222939863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/07/happy-pioneer-day.html' title='Happy Pioneer Day'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmkzbKrzI_I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/pqPHpPDOGBA/s72-c/josh+pony+ride.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7593449054358837142</id><published>2009-07-22T14:02:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T14:19:24.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Yummy Brownies</title><content type='html'>I found a really good deal on brownie mixes so I bought a ton.  Regular brownies are good, but I wanted something to make them even better.  I got this recipe off the box and it gives your brownies a little extra kick to make them super yummy.  So, here you go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make brownies according to directions on box.  I usually make the "cake like" brownies.  They call for one extra egg and don't come out as gooey as normal brownies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdwmYxJtHI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wfNzMuxXkqE/s1600-h/DSC03585.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdwmYxJtHI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wfNzMuxXkqE/s320/DSC03585.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361377686193812594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take out of the oven and top with two cups of mini marshmallows.  Spread evenly over the pan.  Return to the oven for an additional 3 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxWxiui-I/AAAAAAAAADg/yA1toG6FHME/s1600-h/DSC03587.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxWxiui-I/AAAAAAAAADg/yA1toG6FHME/s320/DSC03587.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361378517477919714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In the meantime, melt together 1 cup of chocolate chips and a 1/2 cup creamy peanut butter over medium-high heat.  Stir often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxWvNviGI/AAAAAAAAADY/lnyqk1YhOKY/s1600-h/DSC03586.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxWvNviGI/AAAAAAAAADY/lnyqk1YhOKY/s320/DSC03586.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361378516853033058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When chocolate and peanut butter are completely melted, turn off heat and stir in 1 cup of crisped rice cereal.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxXafhWgI/AAAAAAAAADo/HPOQMkec7ig/s1600-h/DSC03588.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxXafhWgI/AAAAAAAAADo/HPOQMkec7ig/s320/DSC03588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361378528470325762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remove the brownies topped with marshmallows from the oven.  The marshmallows will get kind of puffy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxX3anFdI/AAAAAAAAADw/DS2WZCjeA4k/s1600-h/DSC03589.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxX3anFdI/AAAAAAAAADw/DS2WZCjeA4k/s320/DSC03589.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361378536234358226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spread melted mixture over marshmallows and chill for at least an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxYQnPPwI/AAAAAAAAAD4/BLAH31qAup8/s1600-h/DSC03590.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdxYQnPPwI/AAAAAAAAAD4/BLAH31qAup8/s320/DSC03590.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361378542998208258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-7593449054358837142?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/7593449054358837142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7593449054358837142' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7593449054358837142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7593449054358837142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/07/super-yummy-brownies_22.html' title='Super Yummy Brownies'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SmdwmYxJtHI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wfNzMuxXkqE/s72-c/DSC03585.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2171201893058946098</id><published>2009-06-25T17:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T17:41:10.437-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Timeout, Jail - What's the Difference?</title><content type='html'>After jumping on the furniture for what seemed like the 100th time today, I put Josh in time-out.  Josh asks me,  "If I'm really good, will you let me out of jail?"  To which I respond, "You're not in jail."  Josh says, "Oh, I thought I was."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2171201893058946098?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2171201893058946098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2171201893058946098' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2171201893058946098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2171201893058946098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/06/timeout-jail-whats-difference.html' title='Timeout, Jail - What&apos;s the Difference?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2731450311090906773</id><published>2009-06-21T15:41:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T15:57:20.322-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Father's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sj6pLbf6-rI/AAAAAAAAADI/eD_zRSKWCfM/s1600-h/fam+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 326px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349899421188029106" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sj6pLbf6-rI/AAAAAAAAADI/eD_zRSKWCfM/s400/fam+pic.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; With Father's Day upon us, we take time to think about our fathers and pay tribute to them.  This year is my 23rd Father's Day without my father here with me.  I've been thinking a lot about him this last week and wanted to write down some memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite has to be the "high-yas".  When dad would come home from work, he would throw us up in the air and say, "HIGH-YA!".  We looked forward to that everyday.  But before the "high-ya", there was always a kiss for our mom.  Just something little, but I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember crawling in bed with him on Saturday mornings.  He always sucked his sheets.  I wonder if that's because grandma wouldn't let him suck his thumb.  I'll have to ask him that.  We wanted to suck his sheets too but it was never allowed.  We settled fir sucking on our hair.  Our mom put an end to that by cutitng our hair short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the pumpkin ice cream.  My dad got a deal on it so there was tons of it and it wasn't very good.  While most dads say, "If you don't eat your dinner, you won't get any ice cream."  Our dad said, "If you don't eat your dinner, you'll have to eat the pumpkin ice cream."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember reading his missionary journal when I got home from my mission.  I don't really know who or what he taught, but I do know almost everything he ate while in France.  He kept a very detailed account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Father's Day Dad!  I love you and miss you.  I can't wait until we're together again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2731450311090906773?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2731450311090906773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2731450311090906773' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2731450311090906773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2731450311090906773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/06/happy-fathers-day.html' title='Happy Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sj6pLbf6-rI/AAAAAAAAADI/eD_zRSKWCfM/s72-c/fam+pic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-1317977300796224270</id><published>2009-06-10T09:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T09:38:36.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Should Have Let Him Keep the Car Cloth</title><content type='html'>Like most kids, Josh had a security blanket. It started out innocent enough. While coming home from Logan when Josh was still a baby, he would not stop crying no matter what we tried, until that is, we gave him a burpcloth. He happily sucked his thumb and stroked the cloth on his cheek. It was great. Anytime Josh cried, I could just give him a burpcloth and he would console himself with a little thumb sucking and cheek stroking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What started out as something great, turned into something annoying. By the time he was three, he had picked out a favorite burpcloth. Before, any old one would do, but now, it had to be the "car cloth". If it wasn't that one, he didn't want it. Finding that thing became our life's mission. Heaven help us if we couldn't find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the car cloth got to looking really disgusting. If you don't believe me, take a look at it for yourself. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345723231379815522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Si_S9MHyfGI/AAAAAAAAADA/iUz0CXZi5Wo/s320/DSC03524.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345723225268794258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Si_S81Wzs5I/AAAAAAAAAC4/m8YUU5du0X4/s320/DSC03523.JPG" border="0" /&gt;I was so ready for Josh to be done with this thing but he was not having it. And then one day it happened. We were in Maryland for Christmas break. We had taken the metro downtown and spent the morning. We got back on the metro and headed home. When it came time to get off at our stop, Josh asked where his car cloth was. We looked all around our seats and couldn't find it. Josh of course began to cry and I silently jumped for joy. Yeah! It was lost. No more car cloth. Sure, that afternoon was a little rough, especially at naptime, but Josh did it. He went cold turkey. No more car cloth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, when I was getting ready for bed, I felt something bulky in my pocket. I reached in and guess what I found. Josh's car cloth. I then remembered that I put it in my pocket because Josh kept dropping it on the metro. I quickly stuffed it back in my pocket and there it stayed. I called Tim to tell him what had happened and he told me that I needed to tell Josh and give it back to him. Was he kidding? Josh was 3-years old and still sucking his thumb and carrying around that disease filled burpcloth. No way was I going to tell him I had found it. As far as Josh was concerned, it was still on that metro car, never to be seen again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had about a good month of Josh not carrying around anything with him as a security blanket. I thought he would soon give up his thumb sucking as well, but boy was I wrong. We bought him a new Spiderman blanket for school and that has now taken the place of the car cloth. He carries that thing around everywhere and it's huge. I have put my foot down on taking it out of the house though. I can't believe he went from a little burpcloth to this huge blanket. I should have let him keep the car cloth. At least it would have eventually disintegrated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-1317977300796224270?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/1317977300796224270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=1317977300796224270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/1317977300796224270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/1317977300796224270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-should-have-let-him-keep-car-cloth.html' title='I Should Have Let Him Keep the Car Cloth'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Si_S9MHyfGI/AAAAAAAAADA/iUz0CXZi5Wo/s72-c/DSC03524.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-8417753165262521616</id><published>2009-06-09T13:47:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T13:56:06.052-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry Sucka</title><content type='html'>Sometimes Josh can be a bottomless pit. He will start with breakfast and then not stop eating until lunch. This morning was almost one of those days. After asking about a million times for something to eat and a million times of me saying no, I gave in. I was doing my hair and Josh comes back with a juice box. He asks if he can have it. Sure, was the answer. No harm in a 100% juice juice box. Little did I know he had also tried to get a little something else. When he was down for his nap (ha, ha), I walked in to the kitchen to get some water. I look into the dinning room and what do I see? A box of cookies that used to be in the pantry. They were sitting under the table with the same number of cookies as were there last night. Josh thought he was being so slick by sneaking cookies, but you're not so slick when you can't open the container. So, sorry sucka! Better luck next time.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345418783008436354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Si6-D9jrMII/AAAAAAAAACw/XOVbuEQ81-w/s400/DSC03521.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-8417753165262521616?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/8417753165262521616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=8417753165262521616' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8417753165262521616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8417753165262521616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/06/sorry-sucka.html' title='Sorry Sucka'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Si6-D9jrMII/AAAAAAAAACw/XOVbuEQ81-w/s72-c/DSC03521.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2410325428543940550</id><published>2009-06-07T18:10:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T18:19:42.184-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Josh's Pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SixY0D8eBrI/AAAAAAAAACo/Fo_9d1GyBXg/s1600-h/DSCN0004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344744509217310386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SixY0D8eBrI/AAAAAAAAACo/Fo_9d1GyBXg/s400/DSCN0004.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We bought a kid friendly camera for Josh at an after Christmas sale. Josh played with is the day after we got it but quickly deleted the pictures before we could do anything with them. He never really got back into the picture thing. But today when we got home from church, we saw a happy little snail on the sidewalk. I saw the camera I just had to get Josh in the closet yesterday while I was cleaning so I suggested to Josh that we hurry inside and get the camera so we could take some pictures. The first one below is compliments of Josh and the rest are mine. So thank you little snail for helping us get some use out of this camera.  The camera also takes video, so watch for some on those!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344743524398723186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SixX6vNa8HI/AAAAAAAAACY/htBWeaxeFJQ/s320/DSCN0001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344744013347083538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SixYXMry1RI/AAAAAAAAACg/aEoOMmWcqWE/s320/DSCN0002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2410325428543940550?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2410325428543940550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2410325428543940550' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2410325428543940550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2410325428543940550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/06/joshs-pics.html' title='Josh&apos;s Pics'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SixY0D8eBrI/AAAAAAAAACo/Fo_9d1GyBXg/s72-c/DSCN0004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-6816928861875548284</id><published>2009-05-13T15:48:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T16:16:40.026-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Benjamin Dillingham Heare</title><content type='html'>It's only been five weeks since Benjamin was born. I think that is an acceptable amount of time to wait to blog about our new cute little boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One the morning of April 6, 2009, we got up as normal and got ready for the day. Tim and I drove Josh to school. Tim took him to class and I tied up a few little last ends at the office. We came back home and got the last few things ready for the hospital. We drove over and took a few things that we would need immediately with us and left the rest in the car. As we were walking to the front door of the hospital, I looked over and saw my reflection in the mirrored facade. Wow, I was huge. No wonder I didn't let Tim take pictures of me until that morning. You have to have something for posterity (and your blog). &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335429350590017490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SgtAud4cb9I/AAAAAAAAAB4/uVfD84-QswU/s400/DSC03471.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Gross, right? So anyway, we make it up to labor and delivery and tell them we are here for our c-section. The nurses look at us funny and then look at their book and then back at us. "We don't have any c-sections scheduled for today," they say. I almost started crying. I didn't want to wait another day. They decided to set us up in a room anyway and call Dr Pead to find out what was going on. They came back about 20 minutes later and said that we were good and Dr Pead was on board! Yeah, just a couple more hours.&lt;br /&gt;They got me all hooked up to the machines and I waited for what seemed like an eternity. I think Benjamin was thinking the same thing because I started having contractions. According to the machine, they were pretty strong but I wasn't uncomfoftable in the least. I think maybe because I knew that I wouldn't have to deal with them for that long anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Finally it was time to head on back to the operating room. When I saw the table I would be laying on, I thought it was really tiny. But thinking back on it, I guess it would have to be that narrow so the doctors can get in there and do their thing. So, I got my shot and lied down on the table with my arms spread out on either side of me. It was a lot different this time. With Josh, I had been in labor for about seven hours previous to this stage of the game and was already really out of it. But this time around, I went from being totally with it to slowly being aware that things were going on around me and I had no power to do anything about it. It was really weird. Tim and the doctors came in and I was ready to go. The whole procedure went really fast. I tried not to look at Tim because everytime he would peek over the curtain, he would make these faces like he was totally disgusted. I know it look gross because the day before we watched a c-section on TLC. But I didn't need to see it on Tim's face, so I tried to zone out. The next thing I know, Benjamin is out and they bring him over for me to see. All I remember seeing is a scrunched up face and massive amounts of hair. I gave him a little kiss and off he went with Tim. C-sections are great because you can plan for them and they are over really quick. But the one thing that I don't like about them, is that I don't get a chance to hold the new little one as soon as they are born. But then again, Tim had that special bonding time with him so it all works out.&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few little pics of the new little one!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335434731417918914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SgtFnrByXcI/AAAAAAAAACI/3XXjnLYofhw/s320/DSC03476.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335435702747923346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 325px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SgtGgNg6A5I/AAAAAAAAACQ/dBMDtidcMhg/s400/DSC03474.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-6816928861875548284?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/6816928861875548284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=6816928861875548284' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/6816928861875548284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/6816928861875548284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/05/benjamin-dillingham-heare.html' title='Benjamin Dillingham Heare'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/SgtAud4cb9I/AAAAAAAAAB4/uVfD84-QswU/s72-c/DSC03471.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7543752670660016388</id><published>2009-05-04T12:25:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T08:04:19.393-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Too Much TV?</title><content type='html'>I admit, I use TV as a babysitter for my 4-year-old. In fact, he's watching TV right now. But things might be getting out of control. Tim took Josh to Walmart over the weekend to make a Mother's Day flower out of Legos. (It's cute by the way. I'll try and put a picture up later.) Anyway, they were also looking for a birthday present for Josh's cousin. All of a sudden, Josh saw this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sf80RdBnV_I/AAAAAAAAABI/hfVIJKS0iqk/s1600-h/betterbatterbaseball.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332037958283778034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sf80RdBnV_I/AAAAAAAAABI/hfVIJKS0iqk/s400/betterbatterbaseball.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Josh immediately said: "Dad, I need the Better Batter Baseball!" Not, "Dad, I need a new baseball" or "Dad, I need a new bat" but the "Better Batter Baseball". This boy watches too much TV. He is getting sucked into the marketing schemes of Disney Channel and Nickelodeon. They are in cahoots with ESPN to convince our young children that they need this contraption to play baseball. Not only does Josh think that he needs the Better Batter Baseball, but he also told me this morning that we needed to get some Glade Plug-in or other some such product so our house will smell good. So, not only am I a bad mother because I let my son watch too much TV, but apparently I don't clean enough so our house stinks as well. What are you going to do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-7543752670660016388?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/7543752670660016388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7543752670660016388' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7543752670660016388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7543752670660016388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/05/too-much-tv.html' title='Too Much TV?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sf80RdBnV_I/AAAAAAAAABI/hfVIJKS0iqk/s72-c/betterbatterbaseball.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2950455933529236026</id><published>2009-05-04T10:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T10:23:24.431-06:00</updated><title type='text'>For I First Time I Feel . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sf8SzQQw6AI/AAAAAAAAABA/7omouX0xxVc/s1600-h/wicked.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332001155577866242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sf8SzQQw6AI/AAAAAAAAABA/7omouX0xxVc/s400/wicked.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Tim and I went to see "Wicked" last night and it was AMAZING!  Tim bought me tickets for Chirstmas and it's seemed like a lifetime before it was time to go.  We saw "Wicked" at The Capitol Theater in Salt Lake City.  Tickets sold out in record time.  There are rumors that the show will be coming back in October for another booking because of the overwhelming response.  Here's hoping that I can save up enough money to go again if I can even get tickets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have listened to the soundtrack over and over.  I was a little worried that I wouldn't like the singing as much after listening to the original Broadway cast.  Because really, who can sing Glinda and Elphaba like Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel.  Well, I loved the Elphaba in this production.  She was amazing.  She carried the whole show.  Glinda was good, but I think that is because her character is so over the top and so well written.  Not to discredit this actress' talent, because she was very talented, Elphaba just stole the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had great seats.  We were 11 rows back and just to the right of the stage.  For about the first 20 minutes or so we didn't have anyone sitting in front of us.  We had a perfect view of the stage.  Then, of course, this couple that had to have been the tallest people in the theater, plowed their way through to take their seats.  It wasn't too bad though.  We could still see.  I did get them back accidentally though.  When we stood up for a standing ovation at the end, then didn't stand and when I went to straighten my dress, I totally knocked the girl in the head.  Sorry, super tall girl that sat in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a little side note.  Am I a bad mom for posting about "Wicked" before I posted about my new baby?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2950455933529236026?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2950455933529236026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2950455933529236026' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2950455933529236026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2950455933529236026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/05/for-i-first-time-i-feel.html' title='For I First Time I Feel . . .'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/Sf8SzQQw6AI/AAAAAAAAABA/7omouX0xxVc/s72-c/wicked.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-4715909826083139615</id><published>2009-04-05T08:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T08:59:23.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nursery Rhymes are Alive and Well</title><content type='html'>Josh and I got to school and as usual, my arms were loaded with all my stuff and all of Josh's stuff as well.  I open Josh's car door and say, "Come on, lazy."  Josh responds with, "I'm not lazy, you're lazy!"  And so the conversation continues:&lt;br /&gt;Me:  I'm the one carrying everything and you're not carrying jack!&lt;br /&gt;Josh:  I'm not Jack.&lt;br /&gt;Me:  No, jack means nothing.&lt;br /&gt;Josh:  No mom, Jack goes up the hill to get the water!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to SLCAP HeadStart room 2 for teaching my son nursery rhymes.  Now if they could only teach him to help me out once in a while, I would be set.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-4715909826083139615?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/4715909826083139615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=4715909826083139615' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4715909826083139615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4715909826083139615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/04/nursery-rhymes-are-alive-and-well.html' title='Nursery Rhymes are Alive and Well'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-7885765804429245770</id><published>2009-03-31T16:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T16:23:28.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Six More Days!</title><content type='html'>We went to the doctor yesterday and the most exciting thing for a pregnant woman happened.  My doctor asked if I wanted to deliver one day sooner.  Now, for those of you who are not pregnant now, maybe you've forgotten how crappy these last two weeks are.  I'm miserable.  I wake up every night between 2:00 and 3:00am because my back is killing me.  I decide that turning over might help.  So I try to turn over, but then I remember that I have to heft the 30 extra pounds I have in front of me over as well.  Not too easy at that time in the morning.  Then, when I finally get turned over, I realize that if I move even a little bit, I'm going to pee all over the bed.  So then I have to heft myself and my stomach out of bed and walk as fast as I can to the bathroom while still squeezing to make sure I don't leak.  When I get back to bed, I repeat the turning process over and over again until my alarm goes off.  So, when the doctor said I could deliver one day sooner, I almost jumped over his desk and kissed him.  But I decided against it when I thought I might have to pee again.  See you on April 6th Benjamin!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-7885765804429245770?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/7885765804429245770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=7885765804429245770' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7885765804429245770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/7885765804429245770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/03/six-more-days.html' title='Six More Days!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2539317435527671452</id><published>2009-03-19T18:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T18:50:54.295-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Lily!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/ScLk6l6rh7I/AAAAAAAAAA4/F-jvfSKzkkI/s1600-h/cookies+valentines+and+lily+060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315062205512386482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/ScLk6l6rh7I/AAAAAAAAAA4/F-jvfSKzkkI/s320/cookies+valentines+and+lily+060.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Birthday Lily! We miss you tons but love remembering you by eating some of your favorite foods. We can't wait until you're back with your family so we can all share with you again! We love you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2539317435527671452?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2539317435527671452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2539317435527671452' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2539317435527671452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2539317435527671452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/03/hapopy-birthday-lily.html' title='Happy Birthday Lily!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/ScLk6l6rh7I/AAAAAAAAAA4/F-jvfSKzkkI/s72-c/cookies+valentines+and+lily+060.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-599754538720391105</id><published>2009-02-25T17:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T18:52:51.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Josh's "Other Mommy"</title><content type='html'>It's true. Josh has an "Other Mommy". No, Tim and I have not decided to become polygamists (although Tim might not mind too much if it meant he would get a little action now and then, but that's for another post).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, MaryBeth convinced me to try out this game called Animal Crossing for the Wii. It's kind of like Sims but way toned down. You are a character that lives in a town with some animals. You make your way in life by fishing in the river and ocean, digging up fossils and picking fruit from trees. You then sell your stuff to get "bells" from the local merchant. Now what do you do with "bells" you ask. Simple, you buy furniture for your house or try to pay off your mortgage so you can get a bigger house. Or, you can go to the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, in the city you can get a makeover. That's what I did. After the stylist asked me a series of questions, out my character popped looking eerily similar to me. A nice little brown bob. Josh looked up from his trains most likely and said, "That's my other mommy." Now when I play, he asks if "other mommy" is going to go fishing or hit the rock to see if anything happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could only get "other mommy" to clean our house, I would be in heaven.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-599754538720391105?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/599754538720391105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=599754538720391105' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/599754538720391105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/599754538720391105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/02/joshs-other-mommy.html' title='Josh&apos;s &quot;Other Mommy&quot;'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-5793379322073341311</id><published>2009-02-21T08:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T08:44:45.598-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Puff the Magic Dragon</title><content type='html'>Puff the Magic Dragon is one of my favorite songs.  I learned to play it on the guitar and would play and sing it for Josh quite often.  So, it has also become one of Josh's favorites as well.  Tim checked out a Puff book from the library with a CD. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night before bed, Josh, Tim and I were reading books.  He picked out this one and wanted to listen to the CD with it instead of just reading it.  He was so focused on the pictures in the book this time as we listened to the music.  We got to the part where Jackie Paper stops coming to see Puff.  Josh asked why "Uff" was sad and I explained that Jackie Paper had grown up and was probably a daddy now so he didn't have enough time to pretend anymore and come and see Puff.  Josh looked that page even more intently and his lower lip began to quiver.  I then saw tears forming in his eyes.  He let go of his side of the book, wiped his eyes and said, "Oh mom, that is really sad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We continued on with the book with Josh wiping the few last tears that came.  At the end of this book, a little girl shows up to play with Puff and you see Jackie Paper all grown up peeking at Puff and the girl you assume to be his daughter playing and having fun.  Josh asks who that is and I explain.  He then gets a huge grin on his face, his eyes light up and he says, "Hey, Uff is happy now!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-5793379322073341311?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/5793379322073341311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=5793379322073341311' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5793379322073341311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/5793379322073341311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/02/puff-magic-dragon.html' title='Puff the Magic Dragon'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-701474502257235788</id><published>2009-02-17T18:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T18:45:27.089-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Check Please</title><content type='html'>I know that I am not skinny, slender or . . . okay I'll say it - I'm obese.  Technically morbidly obese if you asked a doctor.  But you won't see me on any of those TLC shows for sure.  Even with all that said, I thought I could still enjoy a meal out with my husband for a early Valentine's Day.  Not so.  Not only am I overweight, I am also seven and a half months pregnant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we decided to go to Texas Roadhouse Grill on Friday night.  This is the newest restaurant in Bountiful so it is always packed, especially on the Friday night before Valentine's Day.  When we get there, they told us the wait would be about an hour and 15 minutes.  Not too bad.  Tim tried to shave some time off by telling them I was pregnant but it didn't work.  So off we went to a couple of stores to buy things we didn't need.  We get back about an hour later and Tim goes up to check where our wait time is.  The hostess tells us happily that we have about another hour wait ahead of us.  Apparently they said an hour and 50 minutes, not 15.  Whatever, we'll wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, about 5 minutes later, they call Tim's name.  They had a table ready for us.  Wow, I guess telling them I was preggers worked.  But, it actually wasn't a table they had ready, it was a booth.  Well, when I get to the booth, it looks pretty small.  As I go to sit down, turns out I was right, it was really small.  I almost needed a shoe horn to wedge me in there.  Tim asks if I'm okay and I think I can handle it so I say I'm fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the thing about having a little too much fat hanging around is that it squishes around and in pretty easily.  It may not look pretty but you can squeeze into some tighter places than you really should if you have to.  Not so when you are preggo.  In my case, all the extra flab has moved down and around back.  I'm pretty tight were the baby is.  By the time our salads got to our table, I was pretty uncomfortable.  After a couple of bites of salad, there was no getting around it, I was killing the baby.  He was pushed in so far that I'm sure he would have been saying some choice words to me if he could. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my uncomfort took the cake and we had to ask for our food to go even though I was totally mortified that I had to admit that I was too fat to fit into a booth.  That's it, after this baby, I'm hitting the gym.  For reals this time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-701474502257235788?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/701474502257235788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=701474502257235788' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/701474502257235788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/701474502257235788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2009/02/check-please.html' title='Check Please'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-4140780331346822129</id><published>2008-12-03T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T18:24:29.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I Starting Him Too Young?</title><content type='html'>Alright, I'm not sure if I should be mad at Josh or proud of him.  I had a doctor's appointment today for the baby.  I dropped Josh off at his cousin's house.  Appointment went fine.  When I got back to pick Josh up, my niece, Jessica, told me she had a story to tell me.  Well, Josh's cousin Conner can be a real punk sometimes, especially when it comes to Josh.  He will be his best friend when it is convinent for him and then will totally be mean to Josh at other times.  Don't get me wrong, I know how six year olds can be.  So whatever.  I just don't want Josh to be bullied and I want him to stick up for himself.  I'm just not sure how he did it was the best way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, apparently during this visit, Josh had asked Conner to play with him and Conner refused, quite meanly according to Jessica.  So, in true Dillingham style, Josh quickly replied, "You're a dumb ass!"  They both were put in time out.  I told Josh in front of Jessica that that isn't a word we use.  And after Jessica left, I gave him a high five.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-4140780331346822129?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/4140780331346822129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=4140780331346822129' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4140780331346822129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4140780331346822129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2008/12/am-i-starting-him-too-young.html' title='Am I Starting Him Too Young?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-2446088120823334760</id><published>2008-12-01T17:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T17:23:09.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Definitely Outnumbered</title><content type='html'>I'm beginning to feel a little out numbered around here. When Tim and I got married, we were even - 1 boy and 1 girl. Then Josh came along - 2 boys and 1 girl. Not too bad. I can still hold my own. But now we find out that it's another boy. So here we are at 3 boys and 1 girl. It's not looking good for me. I'm going to have to find some ways to make my presence known around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They didn't have video capability at the office but here a few of my favorite pics!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274977733167554930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 252px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/STR8TN-MIXI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/6zaLF8g0cr0/s320/ben+arm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;He's already showing us his muscles. He is getting lots of exercise inside his little sack. He never stopped moving the whole time!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/STR80yIsIyI/AAAAAAAAAAY/Ak4oxNGLto4/s1600-h/benhead.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274978309810955042" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/STR80yIsIyI/AAAAAAAAAAY/Ak4oxNGLto4/s320/benhead.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's his little head. Like I said before, he never stopped moving so it took a while to get this shot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274980262832512258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/STR-mdtUHQI/AAAAAAAAAAw/a28IDs6Pd2Q/s320/itsaboy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Here's the money shot. There was no mistaking that this one is another boy as he was very excited to show us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S.  Posting these pics was a little harder than I wanted it to be.  It's either because I have no idea what I'm doing or that I'm super sick and don't want to deal with it.  I like to think the later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-2446088120823334760?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/2446088120823334760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=2446088120823334760' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2446088120823334760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/2446088120823334760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-definitely-outnumbered.html' title='I&apos;m Definitely Outnumbered'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1jy4Pf6cNXI/STR8TN-MIXI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/6zaLF8g0cr0/s72-c/ben+arm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-8667756361202648245</id><published>2008-11-28T07:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T07:50:42.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Getting There</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I've seen my sisters and others change their blog wall paper numerous times and mine stay the same old "polka dot" from blogspot.  So I decided to change my paper.  It wasn't that difficult when I followed all the directions.  So here we are, my new snowball fight wallpaper.  I think my original goal was to have a picture posted but that will have to wait.  Next one I promise will be a picture.  When I get a chance to to scan it in, I'll put a pic of what, if anything, the little one inside of me is hiding between their legs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-8667756361202648245?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/8667756361202648245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=8667756361202648245' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8667756361202648245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/8667756361202648245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-getting-there.html' title='I&apos;m Getting There'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-4412988749074389331</id><published>2008-11-14T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T13:48:13.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Real or Fake?</title><content type='html'>Tim and I have always been very open with Josh when it comes to his body and ours.  We use correct terms for everything and encourage discussion and questions.  I guess that's what we get for the following story. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm standing in the kitchen and Josh comes up to gives my bulging belly a kiss.  He then looks up and says, "Mom, did you buy your boobs?"  "No," I responded.  He then comes back with, "Well, then where did you get them?"  To which I explained, "That's just how it is.  Girls have boobs and boys have a penis."  I then shrugged my shoulders.  He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and walked off.  He hasn't returned to the subject again so I can only assume that my response was sufficient for a 3-year old.  I can't wait to see what questions a 4-year old will come up with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-4412988749074389331?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/4412988749074389331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=4412988749074389331' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4412988749074389331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4412988749074389331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2008/11/real-or-fake.html' title='Real or Fake?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-6172782216193672303</id><published>2008-08-23T08:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T08:39:16.395-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog Envy</title><content type='html'>Back in the day when you were trying to keep up with the Jones', you only had to worry about the kind of car you were driving, the clothes you were wearing or the stuff in your yard. It's a whole different world we live in now. Now there's a whole new cyber world that we have to worry about. I told my sister about a month ago that I was trying to start a blog. She decided she wanted to start one too. And then another sister started as well. Well poo. Now I have two sisters that scour the web for that cutest blog paper. One sister that updates all the time, and it's funny and worth reading. And the other offered to do my blog for me because I can't even figure out how to post a picture. I'll just keep trying though, not to keep up with the Jones', but to keep up with my sisters. Goal for next blog - post a picture. We'll see how it goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-6172782216193672303?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/6172782216193672303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=6172782216193672303' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/6172782216193672303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/6172782216193672303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-envy.html' title='Blog Envy'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-4625069663317591986</id><published>2008-08-17T15:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T16:11:56.495-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prego'/><title type='text'>When Will The Fluff End?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;So, I just found out that I'm pregnant. While yes, I am excited, I'm already starting to hate it. I have said before that I loved being pregnant and it was no problem at all but that is so not the case with this one. I am about a month along and morning sickness is taking on a whole new meaning. And who came up with the term morning sickness anyway. I'm sick all freakin' day long. I'm not throwing up but sometimes I kind of wish I was. All I do is poop all day long. Yep, you read it right, I POOP all day long. It's like I've eaten one too many FiberOne bars. And the thing that really sucks about it is that the poop is so dang fluffy that no weight is lost with it. Now, don't laugh and pretend you haven't done this. You're trying to lose that one more pound so you poop and then get on the scale to see if that number has changed at all. And usually it does, at least a little. Well not so with the fluffy poop. It's all air. Yeah, it sucks. At least with throw up, I might not want to eat for at least part of the day so I might lose a little weight by the end of it. But all I can do now is ask, "When will the fluff end?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-4625069663317591986?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/4625069663317591986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=4625069663317591986' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4625069663317591986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/4625069663317591986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2008/08/when-will-fluff-end.html' title='When Will The Fluff End?'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244497779941608729.post-360474092280903087</id><published>2008-06-24T13:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T14:07:59.643-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Here I Go!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Well, I decided to start a blog. I just thought it would be a fun way to talk about what's going on if my life but more, what's going on with Josh. I really haven't written down milestones for Josh and I thought I'd better start. We'll see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/244497779941608729-360474092280903087?l=flemmanog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/feeds/360474092280903087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=244497779941608729&amp;postID=360474092280903087' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/360474092280903087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/244497779941608729/posts/default/360474092280903087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flemmanog.blogspot.com/2008/06/here-i-go.html' title='Here I Go!'/><author><name>Emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11405233063236804564</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4bGGHAlV5I/Tiiv5abcAEI/AAAAAAAAAdA/QNsvV2TRbZI/s220/DSC04477.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
