tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26729027774312970102024-03-13T11:33:58.137-04:00Making MemoriesCatching little pieces of time-making them yours, making them mine.Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.comBlogger1630125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-52314226766746930422013-06-16T11:16:00.001-04:002013-06-16T11:16:38.037-04:00Happy Father's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It was a moment in time, captured perfectly. Two men, both fathers, sharing a moment with the little girl they loved so much. It took my breath away and filled my heart with happiness.<br />
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I wish I was lucky enough to be able to recreate this scene again. Renee would be a little taller, Mark would be a little more grey, and my Dad would still be with us.<br />
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The one thing that would remain the same, though, is the love of a father. If there is one priceless gift that Renee and I have both been given, it would be knowing how much we are loved.<br />
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I'd like to think that both my Grandfather (who passed away when I was just a toddler) and Mark's dad, Tony, have a lot to do with that. They loved their boys wholeheartedly, and in turn, helped them to become loving fathers.<br />
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Love. It is the most amazing gift, and one that is perfect for regifting. <br />
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Happy Father's Day.<br />
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<br />Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-61140473487106858252013-05-09T12:25:00.001-04:002013-05-09T12:25:26.571-04:00Happy Birthday, Grammy<p>Dear Mom, </p>
<p>I wish you were here to see all of your favorite flowers blooming in celebration of your birthday. I am most excited about the purple iris which we lovingly dug up and moved to each place we have called home. They have finally opened up after all of these years in Georgia. It's a miracle!</p>
<p>The others are just as beautiful; they were carefully chosen and planted in your memory in hopes that their beauty would always remind us of your smile and laughter. It's funny how a wisteria bloom can take me back to our days wandering Longwood Gardens!</p>
<p>Happy Birthday, Mom. As long as my hands are digging, planting, and pruning, you will always be here, right beside us.</p>
<p>Love,</p>
<p>Your Three Amigos</p>
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A very supportive and loving friend send this quote to me on the anniversary of Mom's death. Between the lovely bunch of daffodils which bloomed outside our front door and this sweet message, I was able to work a little harder at pushing the bad memories of that day out of my mind.<br />
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It is true that death and grief hits people in different ways. Speaking for myself, I don't go around with an Eeyore cloud floating over my head day in and day out. There are just some days, though, such as the 25th of January, when I have to work really hard at seeing the joy in the day. It's stupid, and I hate it. The optimist and positive gal inside of me doesn't like it very much when I let my head go there.<br />
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Emotions are a complex thing. Like the twisted branches and gnarled roots of the massive Banyan tree, they can swallow you up and get out of control if not properly contained. They don't abide by someone's idea of a time frame. It's up to you do decide how to handle them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0nbweqG8f80bzlhxtZSaslrp9a_MPg1GDi02ll5q2uVZTzgjSkl-8WfwApAWZ6g1Er9MOGX_zvJ9RdcX9lTwCJ4HFuy8-ymfLLmZfijSdFhRKgVfnX57mkxkQ9PPTlACFDrMv2ZDySPbT/s1600/DSCF9926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0nbweqG8f80bzlhxtZSaslrp9a_MPg1GDi02ll5q2uVZTzgjSkl-8WfwApAWZ6g1Er9MOGX_zvJ9RdcX9lTwCJ4HFuy8-ymfLLmZfijSdFhRKgVfnX57mkxkQ9PPTlACFDrMv2ZDySPbT/s400/DSCF9926.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span><br />
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One of Mom's favorite things to tell me was, "One day at a time, Mary Beth!" Oh, how wise she was, and how much I miss that she isn't here to tell me that.<br />
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Thank goodness for the friends in our life who don't mind stepping in to remind us of the things we know are true. It's okay to miss someone who was such an important part of our lives for so long, as long as we don't forget to love ourselves in the process.Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-88911975358375766762013-01-25T13:00:00.001-05:002013-01-25T14:27:48.287-05:00Signs<strike><strike></strike></strike>Two years. Somehow, it doesn't seem possible. <br />
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We go on because we have no choice, and because that's what she would want us to do. <br />
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We watched her do it when we lost my sister. She not only guided us during that difficult time, but she became our inspiration as well. If she could do it, so can we.<br />
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Why is it so hard then? We all try to live a life finding positivity in the simple things, but there are days when her absence is so obvious.<br />
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Perhaps these lost souls need a sign to help them through the dark days? Something that fills their hearts with light and joy?<br />
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One set of daffodils, bright against the winter's gloom, blooming on your day in January?<br />
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Well played, Grammy. Well played.</div>
Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-25198896944490419382012-11-18T19:26:00.000-05:002012-11-19T13:28:05.790-05:0021 Years of MarriageWhere does the time go?<br />
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It seems like yesterday when I attempted to climb gracefully into that long, white limo which would carry me and my bridesmaids to the church where I would marry the man who had stolen my heart. The graceful part wasn't easy due to the gigantic crinoline Mom and I had chosen to make my beautiful gown even more impressive.<br />
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This girl, who was more comfortable in blue jeans, muck boots and a pitchfork in hand, somehow made it happen. I remember giggling and feeling horrified that I had possibly just flashed the limo driver, but thoughts of Mark standing at the end of the aisle took the shame of that moment away.<br />
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I will never forget the feelings of excitement, love, and bliss as those huge, wooden doors of our log cabin church opened and I caught the first glimpse of the man who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I looked over at my sister, Renee, who was walking me down that very long aisle to place my hand in Mark's. I can't even describe what that moment felt like, but we were both overcome with emotion and the tears began to fall. I have held that memory forever in my heart and it is always with me.<br />
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After 21 years, 3 states, the birth of our spicy little girlie, more than a few gray hairs, and the loss of family who happily celebrated that day with us, those wonderful feelings of love have deepened with the passage of time. We've cried tears of joy and sadness, but through it all, this man with a most beautiful heart has held my hand and held me up. The best decision that I have ever made in this life of mine was to allow two very special friends, Ken and Sherrie, to talk me into going on a blind date with a certain dark haired, blue-eyed man.<br />
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After that, the next best decision was to say,"Yes! Yes, I want to spend the next 50-60 years with you!"<br />
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On that evening, while sitting in the rib joint in Philly where we had shared our first date, I cried as he put the most beautiful ring on my finger. I loved that ring and proudly wore it everywhere. It was perfect for me; not too big to wear while gardening, and not too flashy that I had to leave it at home while visiting the city.<br />
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One evening, while living in New York, I began to cry when I looked down at my ring and noticed that the stone was missing. I had just returned from the grocery store because a snowstorm was coming, and it could have fallen out anywhere. I searched everywhere for it but never found it. I was heartbroken.<br />
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I think the state of New York just may have been bad luck for us. I cried, again, when I noticed that one of the diamond earrings (which Mark had given to me when Renee was born) wasn't adorning my right earlobe any longer. Those earrings had safety backs and everything!<br />
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As life goes on and your children grow, there just isn't money in the budget to replace diamonds. Through the years, I have joked that maybe, just maybe, the diamond from my earring would fit in the setting of my engagement ring. Mark and I always talked about finding a reputable jeweler who might be able to reset it for us, but honestly, it wasn't priority. As long as Mark and I had our wedding rings and each other, that's all that mattered.<br />
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A few weeks ago, while Renee and I were down in Florida performing in our friend's Fractured Fairy Tales haunted house, this gem of a man (pun intended!), found not only my carefully hidden away jewelry box, but a trustworthy jeweler as well. In a twist of luck, that one, lone earring fit the setting from my engagement ring. <br />
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Serendipity.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvJBigrYO3FJt0pcxlfgby_PTQV9CRqH-Lfj4czQ8JKF3HiK2l90hNdPA5QHHEycsA_pEgsLeCnTMpienOqYUhGO5WUrylMLbvFicEzMTxJdY6Vg_SGsArkAwsVaXJ4V3TsH9IL6wpAVV/s1600/12%25252520-%252525201.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvJBigrYO3FJt0pcxlfgby_PTQV9CRqH-Lfj4czQ8JKF3HiK2l90hNdPA5QHHEycsA_pEgsLeCnTMpienOqYUhGO5WUrylMLbvFicEzMTxJdY6Vg_SGsArkAwsVaXJ4V3TsH9IL6wpAVV/s400/12%25252520-%252525201.jpg" /></a><br />
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It is just as beautiful as the day, 22 years ago, when he met with his jeweler in Philly, showed him a sketch of what he wanted my ring to look like, and personally had it designed it for the third finger of my left hand.<br />
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Tonight, as he placed it on my hand and told me how much he loved me, we laughed as the dirty laundry I was getting ready to put into the washer fell to the floor. We went to show Renee, and she gasped in surprise as she hugged the both of us and told her Daddy, "I didn't even know about this! Good job surprising Mom!"<br />
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That, my friends, is what 21 years of marriage looks like in our world. It is family, dirty laundry, hugs, and the luck of a perfect fit.<br />
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Yup, pretty much like the way his hand perfectly fits into mine.</div>
Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-37739318995773699792012-11-11T21:50:00.001-05:002012-11-11T21:50:18.788-05:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IT7TiXV8k3hBJ9-cVgzGGX9XbAdLg4TBU-Ux7z0t-zTgg2VFoPIAfV7SBQjxDYGiguIer3L7QjPnemx40KF4Z4-IQm8NI3g7t86kTBcVcdvjqhZsmZRnjkjAGeznDsvsF7rUNgeIo8Op/s1600/IMAG2524-1-718789.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IT7TiXV8k3hBJ9-cVgzGGX9XbAdLg4TBU-Ux7z0t-zTgg2VFoPIAfV7SBQjxDYGiguIer3L7QjPnemx40KF4Z4-IQm8NI3g7t86kTBcVcdvjqhZsmZRnjkjAGeznDsvsF7rUNgeIo8Op/s400/IMAG2524-1-718789.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5809753381831205522" /></a></p>Doin' a little Soarin' this evening. Happy times!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-28917930662890378352012-10-01T12:40:00.001-04:002012-10-01T12:40:41.240-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zJn1WWYzdPRaZyrDC1YSrwaTrTekH0nzY_YY5lqtgZw9saf6ybk0AN6bQ9HeokjoZ-rZywLdLmQ42u0ydr2-YGTmUD2mgiZE2_NcubzSFKFRywHzJk2YSXTGtQAdbUJc_lpRU_kRbKgw/s1600/IMAG2107-741242.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zJn1WWYzdPRaZyrDC1YSrwaTrTekH0nzY_YY5lqtgZw9saf6ybk0AN6bQ9HeokjoZ-rZywLdLmQ42u0ydr2-YGTmUD2mgiZE2_NcubzSFKFRywHzJk2YSXTGtQAdbUJc_lpRU_kRbKgw/s400/IMAG2107-741242.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5794381788856329874" /></a></p>Cheers!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-9890625352223589142012-10-01T08:26:00.001-04:002012-10-01T08:26:53.022-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9QKyc1r8QfmiO0dDThzitBtFgUrq9l3lbSX67wCWXzBeEqW5A8XeqPDN4S1yucjTkxuXAUCEfv9s230cXQMzaSguH1blO2-xuDxpOCimejutPxdckjTatMd9AFCDtb8ymazvncHDS8lG/s1600/IMAG2106-713024.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9QKyc1r8QfmiO0dDThzitBtFgUrq9l3lbSX67wCWXzBeEqW5A8XeqPDN4S1yucjTkxuXAUCEfv9s230cXQMzaSguH1blO2-xuDxpOCimejutPxdckjTatMd9AFCDtb8ymazvncHDS8lG/s400/IMAG2106-713024.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5794316383389991954" /></a></p>Good morning, and Happy Birthday, Epcot!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-49536109180574099532012-09-30T18:41:00.001-04:002012-09-30T18:41:12.519-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLM-XkFAsbfuLaOzmuTfuIA_o0Wy9H2S7rOnHu5YVu9C3XsMLMDULnF5ORKohJJ4pdAAhNiaLHe7slWoV51bt6zqzifXUligO2PLOW5xK5JGbIJDUmY_BmubppUFi9eY5N4ArpTlfJecrP/s1600/IMAG2103-772520.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLM-XkFAsbfuLaOzmuTfuIA_o0Wy9H2S7rOnHu5YVu9C3XsMLMDULnF5ORKohJJ4pdAAhNiaLHe7slWoV51bt6zqzifXUligO2PLOW5xK5JGbIJDUmY_BmubppUFi9eY5N4ArpTlfJecrP/s400/IMAG2103-772520.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5794103612918013954" /></a></p>Star Tours. A most favorite ride of the Badelves!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-88940739930235095132012-09-30T16:07:00.001-04:002012-09-30T16:07:57.700-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49PVXtMX2gZ2VPlDiwPBtF6FFDvfqycLl00-z4FjZXEMEl1Ev8SF4PDwuUXXKmImkQYjvQqjwFtRTq05WVuGCvyBSapQpfmLYWws9NPpgjHpkJplMMBbh8xX7KCodneyH8zyh4s9C0X59/s1600/IMAG2101-777703.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49PVXtMX2gZ2VPlDiwPBtF6FFDvfqycLl00-z4FjZXEMEl1Ev8SF4PDwuUXXKmImkQYjvQqjwFtRTq05WVuGCvyBSapQpfmLYWws9NPpgjHpkJplMMBbh8xX7KCodneyH8zyh4s9C0X59/s400/IMAG2101-777703.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5794064115766970850" /></a></p>Different view of the Little Mermaid show....Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-31356617309028479232012-09-30T13:11:00.001-04:002012-09-30T13:11:59.913-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04jWFNz00pg6epqXswxm9RHDaq1AD-iBENcAhSxR80PdUlPDPYNPjLoG7p8JWxLpRbBveiBpD1X_311uvYieBwF3Z1kJquOyOWlhIH44-ZaxzhbCpaCL6MM6ZvpF9ABCPcDWOVmvkP_cC/s1600/IMAG2100-719915.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04jWFNz00pg6epqXswxm9RHDaq1AD-iBENcAhSxR80PdUlPDPYNPjLoG7p8JWxLpRbBveiBpD1X_311uvYieBwF3Z1kJquOyOWlhIH44-ZaxzhbCpaCL6MM6ZvpF9ABCPcDWOVmvkP_cC/s400/IMAG2100-719915.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5794018774702843970" /></a></p>This morning, we have a little shutterbug on our hands!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-64939891875916494632012-09-29T22:47:00.001-04:002012-09-29T22:47:36.000-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT3x2ow2kmOCzFZqCXrslG8q1eOQg-u0fDIkC_F-epOvo33aa_ApLqzpLJ-dUBh24OMPaqBlohyumxQf29tjGMcXrmH4GfksU6L20T5Px4K_wkTRLBmD71ZKkhjfpuFXFKt4KcyKc5hBDK/s1600/IMAG2095-756002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT3x2ow2kmOCzFZqCXrslG8q1eOQg-u0fDIkC_F-epOvo33aa_ApLqzpLJ-dUBh24OMPaqBlohyumxQf29tjGMcXrmH4GfksU6L20T5Px4K_wkTRLBmD71ZKkhjfpuFXFKt4KcyKc5hBDK/s400/IMAG2095-756002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5793796019167278082" /></a></p>Illuminations. Always beautiful!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-51035345537972288932012-09-29T22:44:00.001-04:002012-09-29T22:44:33.852-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLNC8s4z-MRaCtDWak5d2-5sdSFCEW1TxjvfAFz0kIxSQ3i7u_RrbODzrtiLGi7Mdv9jjt-YxNQPzzqamRiNrxxiVS2Sg3CGpDADhv3JMJJaOsIXriRiVzo5Z5HwTXx0xrKS_dtyOepkT/s1600/IMAG2093-773853.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLNC8s4z-MRaCtDWak5d2-5sdSFCEW1TxjvfAFz0kIxSQ3i7u_RrbODzrtiLGi7Mdv9jjt-YxNQPzzqamRiNrxxiVS2Sg3CGpDADhv3JMJJaOsIXriRiVzo5Z5HwTXx0xrKS_dtyOepkT/s400/IMAG2093-773853.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5793795238768807266" /></a></p>Lamb chop with mint pesto and potato crunchies. Big thumbs up!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-19168416906170228342012-09-29T18:53:00.001-04:002012-09-29T18:53:17.341-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-xcEYdBETqSTEpYR36NcU1ar5PkmS4h4pV5yovUdw-MucTB5UhPy7F4s8jiyNUsU5GRwVfnCJXwvAat1bohbcY7EIQOxJahu6RLCFR9Qw_4wwFNtiD1jSN6qWoE4SgG3fDNmhYI33hDF/s1600/IMAG2092-797343.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-xcEYdBETqSTEpYR36NcU1ar5PkmS4h4pV5yovUdw-MucTB5UhPy7F4s8jiyNUsU5GRwVfnCJXwvAat1bohbcY7EIQOxJahu6RLCFR9Qw_4wwFNtiD1jSN6qWoE4SgG3fDNmhYI33hDF/s400/IMAG2092-797343.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5793735634791163458" /></a></p>Canada. Cheese soup. ' Nuff said!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-36297343394089739062012-09-29T16:30:00.001-04:002012-09-29T16:30:09.411-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFcU6iZ2QtKBaVrQtXSRX2-cwBBAbaxywGShH0X2ACxNQxZql3IuPqwCZe2erFBTA8ircAENPNcmb_lZMwJZF_ZrdieqrXT4_PNsJGbXzha2SfBjvQQHjnVmebyj6SiIgSS8RRFfG1Uck/s1600/IMAG2089-709412.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFcU6iZ2QtKBaVrQtXSRX2-cwBBAbaxywGShH0X2ACxNQxZql3IuPqwCZe2erFBTA8ircAENPNcmb_lZMwJZF_ZrdieqrXT4_PNsJGbXzha2SfBjvQQHjnVmebyj6SiIgSS8RRFfG1Uck/s400/IMAG2089-709412.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5793698755824759906" /></a></p>It is that time of the year when we celebrate a certain little someone's day of birth. First on our agenda, one of her favorite rides ever--Spaceship Earth!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-6620348556254071242012-08-24T13:03:00.000-04:002012-08-24T13:06:24.677-04:00Your Mother's RemainsIs there really a nice way for someone to tell you that they have your mom's remains ready for you?<br />
<br />
While we were down in Florida celebrating Mark's new job opportunity, an email containing this news was sitting in one of my folders, just waiting for me to get home and open it.<br />
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I am sure you can imagine how this little tidbit of information hit me. Holy repressed emotions leaping to the surface, Batman!<br />
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Here I was, relaxed from our wonderful escape, and happy and excited for Mark to get home and share the details of his first day with us. As I attempted to scan through and delete unneeded messages, I read this in the subject line:<br />
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<i>Your Mother-Mrs. Hughes'-cremated remains</i><br />
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Sigh. Of course I had to open it, no matter how much I didn't want to.<br />
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As I scrolled down, I read:<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Hi Mrs.
Perri, </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">We have
your mother's cremated remains. Would you like to have me
mail them to you?</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I knew that this message, be it via email or a phone call, would come eventually. In the packet that Mom had been given when she signed up to donate her body to the medical college, it said that they would be using her body anywhere from 18 to 24 months. With everything that we had been going through in our life, I don't think that I realized that we had hit the 18 month mark already. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I really wasn't prepared for the feelings of sadness that ran through me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That one simple email put so many other things in my head.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<i>Mrs. Perri, we are through using your mom's body as a hands-on teaching guide and the time has come to cremate what was left of it. We have no other use for it.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Of course I want you to mail it. Can you imagine me picking her up and taking her to Disney with us for Renee's upcoming 13th birthday? "Look Renee, we finally got Grammy to come along with us!"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What am I going to do when THAT package comes in the mail? Ooooh, what's inside? Surprise! It's your Mom!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>It was a heck of a lot easier to just wave at her and tell her how much I loved and missed her as we drove through Macon on our way to Florida. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>This is reality. She really IS gone.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Except for our dog, Indy, I have never dealt with cremated remains before. When Indy passed, they returned her to us in a beautiful little box covered in green fabric. How will Mom come home to us? I am giggling as I write this, but will she be in a cardboard box? Knowing her, she would be happy about that. She was all about the simplicity.<br />
<br />
Both my sister and my Dad are buried up in New Jersey. When I allow myself to think about it, it saddens me that we live so far away and I can't put flowers on their resting spots. Even when we lived in New York, we would always stop by to visit my sister when we were down in the area. We would either bring flowers from our garden, or pick up a bouquet along the way. It made us happy to see those flowers in front of her headstone; she was loved.<br />
<br />
My Dad passed away once we were settled in Georgia, so I have only been back to his grave once. Cemeteries, once interesting to me because of the history captured inside their gates, have become a sad place to me now. They are a reminder of the forgotten, whether it be due to families moving away, or just because people forget.<br />
<br />
I know that it's a good thing that Mom is coming home to us. I just have to get through the new batch of emotions that are slamming my heart right now. As both my sweet sister, Renee, and my Mom always said, "One day at a time."<br />
<br />
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<i><br /></i>Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-74671783161737262642012-08-15T13:56:00.001-04:002012-08-15T13:56:18.623-04:00May we please have some Pounce, Food Lady? We have the bottle and everything!<div><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrrgROUKYErXKmi_ITeDRh0KEFM1IHBgEXYghxnVOZsBNnMPMjgO3Kl4R5F3s6SDz22ydSYS3udeAPO_AUg6fmVoqydJX5ZXpv3gzjhgVP7JT0MCLcD61SD2yCCkLBT2wbsQKV0Spoy4P/' /></div>Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-16161806201544353142012-08-13T12:09:00.001-04:002012-08-13T12:09:09.657-04:00No caption needed!<div><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2osvx2FMAvtbKvgiRW0RRVQMoyLBgPZ5xuD-Dsxgxwyy1YDC7IPrk_eJLguHs9KRgmoHGeQtQ4efDxsvlFrbkphrlGehWiimjlj_DvfuBHlaSQjt9P9l0mXA-_dKwyMU1dIYXfXKr3d_/' /></div>Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-82748550758164772092012-08-11T21:12:00.001-04:002012-08-11T21:12:32.423-04:00Spa time at Basin!<div><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7EoJs5geRv-d3KUDfkFQapGndSMqosYLmY22KCJVP2_GkSP0-wNGWPlDJeERLFWn_mybxBu5ysSdnuEa5Zrg2ZoBLB31fHbA0BADDFGv5jLYzOffl8TW455makabEjuFmNKA-pU-m5Njj/' /></div>Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-13169143668938809992012-08-08T12:03:00.001-04:002012-08-08T12:03:14.059-04:00There is a first time for everything!<div><p>So very proud of our girlie for facing her fears last night. She even waited 70 minutes to do this!</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk2FXSRgiMChyphenhyphenakhYhBV2a5lBWoOgQYg8IBBYchgzYrqhAYrb7djTcggOQrfJxnYlJFRkdCwvNHqajqzfdc4PyHZNJnGeBPcyqsth-_nj_dswB0H2amtGGGMJppbZtlA6v84exETDOm3uF/' /></div>Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-36366978357203495762012-06-14T00:28:00.000-04:002012-06-14T00:28:02.655-04:00No Nonsense GrammyThis morning, Renee came to me to tell me that she had been dreaming about Mom again. I think that she's very lucky to have this special connection with Mom; whether or not you believe in that kind of stuff, the conversations that the two of them have are so realistic to me that it's hard to discount the idea of it.<br />
<br />
Either way, in this dream, Renee asked her Grammy what it felt like to die. Such a serious question, but so Renee.<br />
<br />
In typical Grammy fashion, Mom said to her, "That is classified information, Renee."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mgbyDUmHSPXXqsZYX7Ws5oKJm8PSElXxeNeYL8yuHpC2sCtdhOv407sL5HlyvB7Z0TcTkFnLLTjIzud2mWwV-9Fzi5KdH00OMszSOlmgIjogYPAG-ghf1uIiPb33XHDKmYz6PIGejT7N/s1600/100_1233.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mgbyDUmHSPXXqsZYX7Ws5oKJm8PSElXxeNeYL8yuHpC2sCtdhOv407sL5HlyvB7Z0TcTkFnLLTjIzud2mWwV-9Fzi5KdH00OMszSOlmgIjogYPAG-ghf1uIiPb33XHDKmYz6PIGejT7N/s400/100_1233.jpg" width="264" /></a><br />
<br />
Yup...no nonsense Grammy! Mark laughs how she would always tell you like it was, but do it in such a way that there was no way that you could be angry or resentful towards her.<br />
<br />
I miss the twinkle in her eye and her spunky self so very much.Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-5362772783890800422012-06-11T15:10:00.001-04:002012-06-11T15:10:52.189-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksEXgpgKE9czhwW29aRKswvp_bpazOJAOoF1r1vcKY8TwUixqa8BAtnrR1L7SEP5O3csr_6SNwzimSeTD7tDbJlKlfxzQzc652Z3zmQrMCDCHPHmx6pI_al_OFMp2lCG3Ef2lumNlFdWZ/s1600/IMAG1805-1-752208.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksEXgpgKE9czhwW29aRKswvp_bpazOJAOoF1r1vcKY8TwUixqa8BAtnrR1L7SEP5O3csr_6SNwzimSeTD7tDbJlKlfxzQzc652Z3zmQrMCDCHPHmx6pI_al_OFMp2lCG3Ef2lumNlFdWZ/s400/IMAG1805-1-752208.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5752858951189067890" /></a></p>Green smoothie for a late lunch. Time to get out of this funk and feel better. It all starts within!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-76384043012480073692012-06-09T18:11:00.001-04:002012-06-09T18:11:35.530-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2QxNWbd9FT1pfOm57sVqKSc7-Fsw0YNiAWxKAqOiyx77IrpOEfGtuLPCwEY5HzBBWjSGDLqwKqFYtPNTvz7OYLQaHorZ0QVTrM5wzXSYgFtOKELJKMLs0NK2k5bMLfHpfAcgN-lxn0Gr/s1600/IMAG1803-1-795532.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2QxNWbd9FT1pfOm57sVqKSc7-Fsw0YNiAWxKAqOiyx77IrpOEfGtuLPCwEY5HzBBWjSGDLqwKqFYtPNTvz7OYLQaHorZ0QVTrM5wzXSYgFtOKELJKMLs0NK2k5bMLfHpfAcgN-lxn0Gr/s400/IMAG1803-1-795532.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5752163356111621346" /></a></p>This is one of the beautiful daylilies I dug up from a very kind Freecycler's yard a few weeks ago. So happy to see it bloom!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-54856613096257405052012-05-05T22:28:00.001-04:002012-05-05T22:28:47.991-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VwcOO3bZzimlzHYtFhWUT6rrN93sojLmrFcY4W1Yst4vARQ-dl02oj6wmXR8wRFtvg_CGK_rQ48iq-hNWNJs8dujhfsQJYfrISKWtFHL8f8HJf6K8IWpMKsawk9IJlitq2pgAaBgN_DN/s1600/100MEDIA%2524IMAG1659-727993.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VwcOO3bZzimlzHYtFhWUT6rrN93sojLmrFcY4W1Yst4vARQ-dl02oj6wmXR8wRFtvg_CGK_rQ48iq-hNWNJs8dujhfsQJYfrISKWtFHL8f8HJf6K8IWpMKsawk9IJlitq2pgAaBgN_DN/s400/100MEDIA%2524IMAG1659-727993.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5739241654021161074" /></a></p>Would you like some chips with that salsa?Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2672902777431297010.post-11553929144944540062012-04-28T18:56:00.000-04:002012-04-28T18:57:02.779-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFqLvi_S2F-XjzmWUctkgEnhCpCcBD-wmXg5Gp459RRpTIhSv8mSi1zVlz4h8brnkg0KRzG_xZgg_h8Hl8etbZOuCBxbYqxHct0-V62gu6sPxADu_68KYLPQ9ocK7lCi3rQ8LMeerHNSo/s1600/100MEDIA%2524IMAG1603-722781.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFqLvi_S2F-XjzmWUctkgEnhCpCcBD-wmXg5Gp459RRpTIhSv8mSi1zVlz4h8brnkg0KRzG_xZgg_h8Hl8etbZOuCBxbYqxHct0-V62gu6sPxADu_68KYLPQ9ocK7lCi3rQ8LMeerHNSo/s400/100MEDIA%2524IMAG1603-722781.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5736589488687031170" /></a></p>The magnolias are starting to bloom. So heavenly!Marehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01086949963405081491noreply@blogger.com1