<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792</id><updated>2009-11-15T06:23:53.266-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Daughter of a Polish Man...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>110</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-138048200237769821</id><published>2009-11-10T15:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T19:17:05.284-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And then she was 4.</title><content type='html'>My baby girl turned 4 today (*sniff sniff). As someone recently commented to me "the days go by slowly as the years fly by" (or something like that.) And that is what it feels like...has it really been 4 years since my puffy-asian-looking-baby came into this world? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know all of you who have grown children&amp;nbsp;don't see turning 4&amp;nbsp; as a huge milestone. But for me who's life ambition was to be a mom, seeing my only child grow up way too fast is so bitter-sweet. Each stage brings new challenges and joys and I know this year will be unlike any other. But you know, sometimes I just want to shrink her back into a 6 month old and enjoy the time I had with her as a baby (I'd prefer not to send her back any further as she was rather colicky :-) Then I'd like to re-live&amp;nbsp;the stage when she was just starting to walk and babble. &amp;nbsp;Or before she could talk and she spent 80% of her time going up to anybody who had food in their hands and doing the sign for "more". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also know you're not supposed to get too emotional on a blog knowing that others are reading. Pardon me, but I'm feeling really emotional. My baby girl is 4! When I'm struggling with the thought that she may be my only child I am always overwhelmed at how thankful I am that Karis was given to me. I don't think I'll ever not want to have more children but I am so, so thankful to have her. She has brought so much joy into our lives. I tell her (probably not often enough) that she was my present from the Lord. She knows she was/is a gift and her birthday is more exciting than my own as she is a better gift than any I've received on my own birthday! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alrighty, I'm done with the emotional part of this post. Behold pictures from her party that we had on Saturday since my family was in town...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Decorating for a birthday is a whole lot easier and cheaper when you have The Dollar Tree in town! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvmtpHDq8SI/AAAAAAAABJw/miGkFIog3eU/s1600-h/IMG_0335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvmtpHDq8SI/AAAAAAAABJw/miGkFIog3eU/s320/IMG_0335.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Just family and Lorraine were invited to the party that was planned last minute. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svmt1-yQw1I/AAAAAAAABKA/D5ovuLeXOWA/s1600-h/IMG_0333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svmt1-yQw1I/AAAAAAAABKA/D5ovuLeXOWA/s320/IMG_0333.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvmtwyTN5ZI/AAAAAAAABJ4/Z8rMZiGRK0w/s1600-h/IMG_0330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvmtwyTN5ZI/AAAAAAAABJ4/Z8rMZiGRK0w/s320/IMG_0330.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvmzIJc_naI/AAAAAAAABKI/WiWFeSyfaq4/s1600-h/IMG_0326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvmzIJc_naI/AAAAAAAABKI/WiWFeSyfaq4/s320/IMG_0326.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;After a few cheesy games we let Karis open her presents....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm9nH3hVnI/AAAAAAAABLY/3Qcii-Z7Jr8/s1600-h/IMG_0341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm9nH3hVnI/AAAAAAAABLY/3Qcii-Z7Jr8/s320/IMG_0341.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Everyone loved&amp;nbsp;the 3-d Hansel and Gretel book...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm7tu05FeI/AAAAAAAABKg/MQ6tjpkxDNk/s1600-h/IMG_0343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm7tu05FeI/AAAAAAAABKg/MQ6tjpkxDNk/s320/IMG_0343.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm70QiwynI/AAAAAAAABKo/nc_MwlmyEzM/s1600-h/IMG_0344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm70QiwynI/AAAAAAAABKo/nc_MwlmyEzM/s320/IMG_0344.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Yep...enjoyed by everyone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm758H7igI/AAAAAAAABKw/EdUgPdpsEDc/s1600-h/IMG_0349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm758H7igI/AAAAAAAABKw/EdUgPdpsEDc/s320/IMG_0349.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Can I take this moment to ask an honest question here? Are there any parents out there who actually read this horrible story to their children? I remembered as a child having a nursery rhyme book and at the end Hansel and Gretel tricked the old mean lady into getting into a candy house stove (this is my child-hood memory of the book.) But after the party when I actually took the time to read this book to Karis&amp;nbsp;I was horrified at what the story line is. What kind of sick person wrote this story? A man remarries, the family goes through hard times so the mean step-mother forces the wimpy husband to take his kids out into the middle of the woods and abandon them there so that the family doesn't starve together (how gracious, the children can starve on their own in the middle of a scary forest.)&amp;nbsp;The two kids find their way home only to be returned to the forest a second time. They find a candy house with a witch who tries to fatten them up to eat them but Hansel tricks her into getting into the oven, they cook her and then eventually find their way home where their dad is happy to see them again and they live happily ever after since the step-mother is dead (it doesn't mention how she died.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;This book inspires me to begin writing children's books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Ok, back to the party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Another great present. Besides almost losing a few eyeballs this entertaining toy has been fabulous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm8F7npmzI/AAAAAAAABK4/gVSPtoQ3xnY/s1600-h/IMG_0353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm8F7npmzI/AAAAAAAABK4/gVSPtoQ3xnY/s320/IMG_0353.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Cake time! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm8MxhhG_I/AAAAAAAABLA/84WOiYDhcQU/s1600-h/IMG_0363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm8MxhhG_I/AAAAAAAABLA/84WOiYDhcQU/s320/IMG_0363.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Thank you for noticing this amazing piece of art. A piece of art which only consumed about 2 hours of my time. You will only be able to truly appreciate this year's masterpiece if you saw last year's roach cake. Take a closer look at this beauty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm8QD_7u2I/AAAAAAAABLI/BhYL232Dhbk/s1600-h/IMG_0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Svm8QD_7u2I/AAAAAAAABLI/BhYL232Dhbk/s320/IMG_0364.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I kept asking Karis over and over what kind of cake she wanted. I kept asking 'til I got a satisfactory answer! For the longest time she said she wanted a grasshopper cake (or hop-grasser, as she says) but I knew that wasn't an option unless we bought a cake so I just kept asking over and over again. Finally when she said "a flower cake" and I had visions of a simple round cake I jumped at the idea and made her feel like the idea was ingenious. Thankfully she stuck to that idea 'til we had her party on Saturday. I'm so excited because with this great improvement in cakes I look forward to being a professional baker of cakes by the time she's 30. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;But I made a huge mistake, folks. Because I figured a strawberry cake wouldn't be so tasty (her request) I thought I'd make a more adult-appealing cake, like red velvet cake, to keep both young and old happy. Now the cake itself wasn't amazing but the icing was. After almost 12 weeks of no sugar I could not keep myself from eating a piece with the out-of-this-world icing. Then the next day I lost self-control again when I saw Jonathan pull the cake out. Then yesterday...he did it again. Pulled it out right in front of me. Now I was doing really good today 'til I started writing this and now can't stop thinking about that icing. I'll be right back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Ok, make that four days in a row. I'm so weak. If you are reading this and you live close by &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;please&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; come take this cake away...I need help! If you think I'm crazy and you have the time and money to put into a batch of icing to see that I'm not crazy then here ya go...click &lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Sturdy-Whipped-Cream-Frosting/Detail.aspx"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, make the icing and then come back and comment, letting everybody know that this icing is irresistible. Next time I'm just going to make a batch of icing and serve it in small cups. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Happy birthday to my Karis Joy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-138048200237769821?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/138048200237769821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=138048200237769821' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/138048200237769821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/138048200237769821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/11/and-then-she-was-4.html' title='And then she was 4.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvmtpHDq8SI/AAAAAAAABJw/miGkFIog3eU/s72-c/IMG_0335.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-6283833339635824726</id><published>2009-11-05T15:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T16:13:33.786-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas in October</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Yes, dear friends, I realize that it's already November. But our Christmas in October really happened in October, hence, the title of this post. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, Christmas in October is a very exciting experience! And you know folks, you too can enjoy this experience by following three not-so-simple steps. Keep in mind that you may feel discouraged after reading the first two steps but if you persevere and follow through I can guarentee you that you &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; have a great Christmas in October. Promise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.) Pack up everything you own that is dear to you and get rid of the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.) Move overseas and reaccumilate new stuff as you can afford it .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) After 6 years take all of the "new" stuff you've accumilated, sell or give it away in 4 weeks, move back to the original location and then unpack everything you packed up the first time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really is exciting. What is so great about this is that during those 6 years when you're adjusting to life in a different culture, learning a language and uh, contemplating who-in-the-world you really are as a person you WILL forget everything that you had to pack up in the beginning. When was the last time you were able to open 20 boxes which contained surprises in each one? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Unpacking the initial 10 boxes. I sure hope Jonathan doesn't see this picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMhBa0G-rI/AAAAAAAABIc/89Zebz-MTUY/s1600-h/IMG_0213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMhBa0G-rI/AAAAAAAABIc/89Zebz-MTUY/s320/IMG_0213.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;So we've added a few items to our 20 boxes, thanks to the Good Cents store and garage sales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMhSlFAb7I/AAAAAAAABIk/jMYw1KspTMs/s1600-h/IMG_0215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMhSlFAb7I/AAAAAAAABIk/jMYw1KspTMs/s320/IMG_0215.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say it's been an exciting month. I am so glad I didn't remember how awesome my kitchen pots were when we were living in Brazil or I may have taken them down there, only to bring them back here again! Cooking rice is an amazing thing when you can look through the glass&amp;nbsp;lid and see what it looks like. Even though I've always known you weren't supposed to lift the lid to peek at rice...I always do. Looking at the rice never helps anything but I'm just a spaz that way. Gotta see it. Now I can peek 'til my little heart is content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So besides opening up boxes and boxes of treasures (I do have a pile of stuff to take to Goodwill though, as some things that were dear to my heart are not-so-dear anymore) we have already accumilated some more used-treasures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I ever even mention that we are in our own home now? We are. The Lord swung open some doors for us to live in a house just around the block from Jonathan's parents. And the only way we were able to do that is because we are able to work off 1-2 months worth of rent. Jehovah Jireh! That is the only reason as we are still making payments on our house in Brazil which IS in the process of selling though we won't see the funds for another month or two. We are so thankful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the items we have been blessed with is a tv. Normally I wouldn't mention or write anything about a tv on my blog except....well, it's a great story and if anybody comes to my house and sees this tv, we really want them to know how we got it and how much we paid. To me a tv isn't a big deal. The dining room table and chairs were my big deal. Jonathan's big deal was the tv. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I got my table and chairs (which is an amazing story in itself)....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMjwdya94I/AAAAAAAABIs/ZY1rFb3MIq8/s1600-h/IMG_0258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMjwdya94I/AAAAAAAABIs/ZY1rFb3MIq8/s320/IMG_0258.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so we were left looking for a tv. Really we were only half-hearted in our search but were amazed at how much money people wanted for their used tv's. We came close to spending $60 on a puney flat-screen at a garage sale (I think it was a 17 inch?) but decided to just wait since...well, we are capable of living without a tv for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it happened. I noticed on Craigslist that somebody had a "big" flatscreen for sale for $50. Jonathan called, talked to the guy who said he just wanted it out of his house TODAY and the next thing I know J's in the truck headed to Chattanooga to pick it up. We had other shopping to do there so his folks, Karis and I drove their other vehicle down to meet him. When he pulled up into the parking lot I just started laughing. I mean, I could not stop laughing. God has a great sense of humor. Jonathan wanted a big TV and a big TV he got. This baby is 52 inches. I am not kidding. A 52 inch tv for $50. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The first time we put Karis' show "Hermie" on she exclaimed "Hermie is big like me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMlGUsLF2I/AAAAAAAABI0/b_9f4f_mous/s1600-h/IMG_0242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMlGUsLF2I/AAAAAAAABI0/b_9f4f_mous/s320/IMG_0242.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit we're kind of self-conscience about it. We don't mind admitting that we do enjoy tv sometimes but it's hard to not imagine what one might think walking into our home and seeing this monstrous thing. I can just see someone thinking "so, they can't afford to pay rent but they can afford THAT?" Which is exactly what I would think. What is even funnier is that as embarrassed as we are, Jonathan's mom is even more embarrassed. This is a small town you know, so everybody knows everybody...to a certain&amp;nbsp;extent. When the phone guy came over to install the internet Jonathan went on to explain the story of how we got the tv and how&amp;nbsp;much we paid for it.&amp;nbsp;But the guy said "oh yeah, your mom already told me. That's amazing!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough of the tv story. If you come over, now you know :-) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is so wonderful to be closer to family again. Though I haven't seen Stace yet (we will at Thanksgiving!) we've been able to see almost everyone else. And Karis is having a blast getting to know her cousin, Jagger. Isn't this picture too cute? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMoaO8QUFI/AAAAAAAABI8/1FZD31ISwHg/s1600-h/DSCF2161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMoaO8QUFI/AAAAAAAABI8/1FZD31ISwHg/s320/DSCF2161.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVED having cousins growing up. My cousins in Orlando were such a huge part of my life that I feel so sorry for those who haven't been able to experience the same thing. I am happy to watch Karis get to know at least one of her cousins. And Thanksgiving will be great as all four cousins will be together. Cousins are awesome because they're family but they're more exciting than siblings since you don't see them all the time. Then again, when you're an only child like Karis I'm sure seeing anyone other than mom and dad is exciting! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few pictures of the munchkins dressed up at halloween....&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMpWA5UqWI/AAAAAAAABJI/zhRk5TQJqPw/s1600-h/IMG_0295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMpWA5UqWI/AAAAAAAABJI/zhRk5TQJqPw/s320/IMG_0295.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMp910UaMI/AAAAAAAABJY/60oCRWB545c/s1600-h/IMG_0297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMp910UaMI/AAAAAAAABJY/60oCRWB545c/s320/IMG_0297.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMrNASMTxI/AAAAAAAABJo/dKUwXR2FjLg/s1600-h/IMG_0298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMrNASMTxI/AAAAAAAABJo/dKUwXR2FjLg/s320/IMG_0298.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMrAdMRo6I/AAAAAAAABJg/ed2fyDF-Dkc/s1600-h/IMG_0299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMrAdMRo6I/AAAAAAAABJg/ed2fyDF-Dkc/s320/IMG_0299.JPG" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We took them to a Fall Festival at a local church. It was a neat festival with lots of games and prizes for the little ones. But after about 2 pieces of candy my child (who doesn't get a ton of sugar) could hardly wait in line anymore, she was so hyper. Next time I'm not going to let her eat any candy until &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;after&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; the festival and then she's going to have a slumber party with one of&amp;nbsp;her grandmas. Hopefully both of the grandmas will forget reading this by next October and won't think of anything when I casually ask "can Karis spend the night so we can go on a date?" ha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Before I end this already-too-lengthy post here are a few Karis funnies from the past few weeks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I was explaining to Karis the meaning of her name and how it is the Greek word for "grace". I wasn't sure how much she was understanding but tried to be as clear as possible. She seemed to really be soaking it in but after about 30 seconds of silence she asked "Is my name Grace Bible Church?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;When Jonathan's cousin Lorna was visiting here in August we went to a historic museum about Sequoyah,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;a Cherokee who invented the&amp;nbsp;Cherokee alphabet/writing system. The museum is located where he lived and when we were there Karis seemed fascinated that we were at a man's house who had already died. She kept asking "Is Sequoyah dead?" Well for the next 8 weeks we didn't hear or mention anything about Sequoyah until a few weeks ago when Jonathan was mentioning a job opening in Sequoyah. He was explaining the situation to his mom when all of us heard Karis' voice yell from the back room "but dad, Sequoyah is dead!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-6283833339635824726?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/6283833339635824726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=6283833339635824726' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6283833339635824726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6283833339635824726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-in-october.html' title='Christmas in October'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SvMhBa0G-rI/AAAAAAAABIc/89Zebz-MTUY/s72-c/IMG_0213.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-7501944555055062335</id><published>2009-10-05T11:28:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T20:48:54.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A sun, a car and aging woes.</title><content type='html'>First of all, thanks to everybody who sent me a personal email complementing my latest decoupage. I feel so special! And I would feel hesitant to continue posting pictures of my latest projects (I really am obsessed) except that I truly believe anybody can do it! I'm not interested in making pictures to sell right now, as I would rather teach others how to do this so that I'm not alone in my obsession. I already have a domain name as well as a web-service to try and accomplish this via a web-site yet will have to soon undergo the huge task of trying to figure out how to build the actual web-site. It may take years. But what I would love to do is have lots of examples posted, instructions on how to make these pictures and then have tons of napkins available for the public to purchase individually. This would be so that one who may become obsessed like me does not have to go out and buy 100 napkins to do a project that only requires 5 napkins total.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is a picture of my sun, as it is....for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsoRbicyXuI/AAAAAAAABHE/Lo3ly_YpHl8/s1600-h/IMG_0202.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsoRbicyXuI/AAAAAAAABHE/Lo3ly_YpHl8/s400/IMG_0202.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389139068903907042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is not the finished product. Actually, I'm half tempted to paint over it with white and start all over, which is the beauty of decoupage! I may try to touch it up a bit and see but...it's just not what I had envisioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're still trying to sell our house back in Brazil. We were assured by the real estate agent that it would sell BEFORE we had to leave. Here we are a few months later and it still has not sold! It is hard not to get totally discouraged because even if it were to sell today it would be another 2-3 months before getting the money...and that means being in debt that much longer to those who so generously gave us loans. I cannot WAIT to be out of debt. You will read one bold and italicized YIPPEE when these things happen (notice this example was not italicized.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So our plans to get a family mini-van are put on hold. But God is SO good and provided an unexpected opportunity to spend $500 and get something that will work just fine until then! Take a look....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsoTioy0OTI/AAAAAAAABHU/7PwFmqJ1AzU/s1600-h/IMG_0199_1.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsoTioy0OTI/AAAAAAAABHU/7PwFmqJ1AzU/s400/IMG_0199_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389141389889255730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I do need to brag on my husband just a bit. Did you know he can work on or fix anything? Really, anything. I am SO spoiled to always have decent running vehicles and a home that gets repaired quickly and efficiently (sure hope the next lucky homeowners appreciate that when they buy our house!) And I hope I don't make a lot of women sick by saying this but that so called honey-to-do list is pretty much non-existent in our home. I don't think I've ever made a list for him. And that is because he notices AND fixes the problems before I am aware of the problem in the first place. This could be part of the reason I'm so unappreciative sometimes. He'll be like "hey hun, I fixed the leaky faucet." and I'll be thinking "Leaky faucet? Was it leaking? Which one?" but I've learned the best response is..."wow, great...thanks!" But when I sit back and ponder how spoiled I am in this area I am all the more grateful. Which brings me to the point of this paragraph. I love that we can buy a $500 vehicle because my oh-so-talented husband can fix it up for next to nothing! And this one is a 1997 Land Rover. I've never even been inside a Land Rover before but this one is cool. And it will be really cool when it's all fixed up. For next to nothing. By my wonderful hubby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are just two quick things I want to mention before closing this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Karis has said so many funny things lately and I can't remember any of them, except one. It was a short conversation between her and her cousin Jagger. It went like this....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karis: Jagger, are you firsty? (thirsty)&lt;br /&gt;Jagger: No.&lt;br /&gt;Karis: Well, then you can't be my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea why she said this but it got a few silent chuckles out of me. Although I do hope that she doesn't continue to base her friendships on the apparent thirst of others!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) I have 7 months to remain in my 20's. That is it...7 months. So the only thing I can do to truly console myself is to make a resolution that by my 30th birthday I am going to be in better shape and feeling better than I have in 5 years! Which will be fairly easy as I've let things go for...er, 5 years. I have been without my favorite drug sugar for 6 weeks as well as exercised a few times and stayed away from lots of unhealthy carbs. I do plan to bump up the exercise routine a bit as well as contemplate giving up my #2 favorite drug....caffeine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) ok, just one more! I found this site and am still reading this article but I'm very inspired! Once we're settled in our own home I'm going to start trying some of these things out. I would love to have a chemical-free home. So check out this post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://backtobasicsbylivinggreen.blogspot.com/2007/09/cleaning-natural-way.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-7501944555055062335?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/7501944555055062335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=7501944555055062335' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/7501944555055062335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/7501944555055062335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/10/sun-car-and-aging-woes.html' title='A sun, a car and aging woes.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsoRbicyXuI/AAAAAAAABHE/Lo3ly_YpHl8/s72-c/IMG_0202.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-2610738641855289469</id><published>2009-10-01T17:54:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T09:24:04.886-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Addictions.</title><content type='html'>There are three things I remember being disciplined for as a teenager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Jumping off of the roof onto our trampoline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) Sneaking out in the middle of the night with friends to T.P. my Aunt's house around the block.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) Doodling all over paper while talking on the telephone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure there are more of them to list but I just don't remember. Events #1 and #2 were one time occurrences. However, event #3 (or should I say eventS) was a normal part of my life. In some ways I take pride in how few times I made my mom cry growing up. But maybe I shouldn't be prideful as the times I did make her cry were usually due to doodling all over an important document that was so conveniently placed on the end table next to the phone. And this happened at least once a week. Why she didn't force me to have my hands strapped down while talking on the telephone I'll never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say that because one of my favorite things to doodle was (and is) pictures of the sun. I really love the sun! I love what it symbolizes. I love what it does. I love how all you have to do is draw a circle with squigglies around it and voila...you have a sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I say that because I also love decoupaging. I thought I was addicted to decoupage while living in Brazil but I've now realized that I only had what some would call a mild case. After finally settling down a bit this week and getting to use some of the 500 napkins I've accumulated in 7 weeks I see that this addiction will hold much more power over me! There are SO many neat tools and napkins to work with here! To keep myself controlled somewhat I am now setting the timer to where I only spend 15 minute increments on a picture at a time. This helps me be a good girl and do the laundry, dishes and play play-dough with my cutie-patootie in-between decoupaging sessions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And SO I say that because I combined the two aforementioned loves of mine and began a decoupage OF a sun today. It's going to be really cool. Why I used 7 paragraphs to share that bit of information...I don't know. But I'm really excited about my sun decoupage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onto a new and off-the-subject subject. I will confess that I've been rather alarmed at how some people stay on facebook ALL DAY LONG. All. Day. Long. How do you do that? And why? What is there to get addicted to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lest you think I'm about to bash facebook I will assure you, I am not. I really like facebook (don't love it, mind you, but I do like it). I really enjoy keeping in touch with people that I never would if there wasn't facebook. I think it's awesome to to know who is chatting with who and be able to add a comment to their conversation. It's great! But I still didn't understand (until today) why some people had status updates several times a day. Now I do. And that is because since we have had the most NORMAL week this week than we have in 5 months I've had more time to walk by and glance at the computer. Because of THIS I have left facebook up all day (but showing me as logged out so that other people don't think of me what I previously thought of other people who stayed logged in all day). When I get an extra minute I go hit refresh and read all of the new status updates. It really is cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How else would I know that my cousin fell asleep on the couch forgetting her weener dog locked in a crate? Or that my friends in Brazil are battling the thousands of beetles this month? Or that Kimmy beat my mom in scrabble? (way to go Kimbosha!) Please don't think less of me after reading this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to interupt this post for about 15 minutes now. brb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done with the jabbering for now. Here are a few pictures...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is the decoupage I did during Karis' nap yesterday. And part of today. Having stencils for the lettering sure does speed up the process!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUtm3SjMUI/AAAAAAAABGU/lYcSwJI54l8/s1600-h/IMG_0177.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387762674918699330" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUtm3SjMUI/AAAAAAAABGU/lYcSwJI54l8/s400/IMG_0177.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And here is my sun so far. Sorry that I'm not taking the time to rotate it, save it and then re-upload it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh....I had to take the picture of the potential sun off as two people wrote me and told me that it resembled something different. Something very, very different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUtnSIneSI/AAAAAAAABGc/BEq8hy9dmXg/s1600-h/IMG_0178.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And I have been doing some other things the past few days, which is nice for Karis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUugNbkpZI/AAAAAAAABGk/66qrpuhdCmU/s1600-h/IMG_0156.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387763660114666898" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUugNbkpZI/AAAAAAAABGk/66qrpuhdCmU/s400/IMG_0156.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUugh8Hu8I/AAAAAAAABGs/IUn9ZDPyY8w/s1600-h/IMG_0160.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387763665619893186" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUugh8Hu8I/AAAAAAAABGs/IUn9ZDPyY8w/s400/IMG_0160.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUuhP1vScI/AAAAAAAABG0/aWEwkyjGKmo/s1600-h/IMG_0164.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387763677941156290" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUuhP1vScI/AAAAAAAABG0/aWEwkyjGKmo/s400/IMG_0164.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUuhhe7dLI/AAAAAAAABG8/BvIYJ-fspeg/s1600-h/IMG_0165.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387763682677322930" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUuhhe7dLI/AAAAAAAABG8/BvIYJ-fspeg/s400/IMG_0165.JPG" 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/5558965005009136792-2610738641855289469?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/2610738641855289469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=2610738641855289469' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/2610738641855289469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/2610738641855289469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/10/addictions.html' title='Addictions.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsUtm3SjMUI/AAAAAAAABGU/lYcSwJI54l8/s72-c/IMG_0177.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-4773304678917538889</id><published>2009-09-28T15:18:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T16:16:05.791-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not really normal.</title><content type='html'>Has it really been over a month since I posted? Why yes, dear Kelley, you say. So much for mid-year half-hearted resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really is hard for me to believe that we've been in the States for 7 weeks now. At the same time it feels like it's been forever since we have lived in Brazil! And this, good people, brings me to a question. What is normal? There is no normal and that goes for my life too. It just isn't normal. but take heart, I say to myself. There is no normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that is part of the great adventure. Learning to take what the Lord gives you a day at a time and living it to the fullest! I fail at this, good people. I am more consistent at failing in that area than I am at blogging (haha...that's funny). But, there is always tomorrow. Or better yet, there is always today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have had a very busy month (an un-normal month)! We've checked out ministry opportunities in NC, looked into "normal" job opportunities and spent much needed time with friends and family! I would be lying if I said it has been an easy month, as it has been a rather emotional one for us girls in the Kroeker family as we adjust to...life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past 3 weeks has been filled with activity that took place in FL. I was horrible at making the effort to take the camera out and take pictures while we were there...something I'm deeply regretting now! But I did manage to get some good ones during our short overnight trip to the beach. Here are a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;few&lt;/span&gt; of those...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The three of us drove down to Carrabelle for the day. The water was GROSS. Absolutely disgusting. But there was an abundance of not-as-polluted sand which helped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQvvt9teI/AAAAAAAABEs/j5-kQBj0p0o/s1600-h/IMG_0026.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQvvt9teI/AAAAAAAABEs/j5-kQBj0p0o/s400/IMG_0026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386605041760974306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Besides the fact that my child can recognize polluted water when she sees it she also had another problem with the water. When she was little she had NO FEAR of the water. At all. None. So the days preceding our trip I was very faithful to caution her about being careful near the ocean. I think I over did it because she didn't even want to rinse the clean sand off her body in the polluted water when I advised her to. She kept saying "I don't want to get drowned."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQwteGdlI/AAAAAAAABE8/0Qv4v-mQKNU/s1600-h/IMG_0035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQwteGdlI/AAAAAAAABE8/0Qv4v-mQKNU/s400/IMG_0035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386605058337437266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And what kind of parents would not only force their child to step into that nasty water but sit on a stump and smile for a picture? That would be us. Look at that nasty foam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQw9QUZQI/AAAAAAAABFE/1TtLUuUhaKs/s1600-h/IMG_0030.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQw9QUZQI/AAAAAAAABFE/1TtLUuUhaKs/s400/IMG_0030.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386605062574597378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the night at my Uncle's beach-house. Karis liked having a huge trout with her in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQxeTbH5I/AAAAAAAABFM/zjQP9fYMwkg/s1600-h/IMG_0039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQxeTbH5I/AAAAAAAABFM/zjQP9fYMwkg/s400/IMG_0039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386605071445991314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The following day was a beautiful day! My family came down and we went the extra mile (or 15) to go to St. George Island. It was definitely worth it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsESGxyvdVI/AAAAAAAABFU/dJg3AWmFfgI/s1600-h/IMG_0088.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsESGxyvdVI/AAAAAAAABFU/dJg3AWmFfgI/s400/IMG_0088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386606536966501714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We brought my nephew, Jagger, down to FL with us to spend time with my family. He and Karis had a blast playing together!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsESHd6NJAI/AAAAAAAABFc/S0VQIem8U_8/s1600-h/IMG_0044.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsESHd6NJAI/AAAAAAAABFc/S0VQIem8U_8/s400/IMG_0044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386606548808967170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My 4 youngest siblings. I LOVE my family. I love having young siblings. They are so cool and were such a huge help with their nephew/niece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsESHmKoRcI/AAAAAAAABFk/g9ed0gZxtBE/s1600-h/IMG_0047.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsESHmKoRcI/AAAAAAAABFk/g9ed0gZxtBE/s400/IMG_0047.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386606551025337794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thank goodness for clean water!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsESIIo9PHI/AAAAAAAABFs/S1dJrnU-DxU/s1600-h/IMG_0069.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsESIIo9PHI/AAAAAAAABFs/S1dJrnU-DxU/s400/IMG_0069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386606560279346290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An almost-complete sister's picture. We look forward to taking a real sister's picture soon with Stace!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEUUdeO4qI/AAAAAAAABGE/OYQLh42A_o0/s1600-h/IMG_0097.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEUUdeO4qI/AAAAAAAABGE/OYQLh42A_o0/s400/IMG_0097.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386608971053195938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kimmy. My amazing sister, Kimmy. Only those who don't know Kimmy will be confused when I tell you this. Do you know what thought constantly comes to my mind when I think of Kimmy? It is this. What if my parents had stopped after having 5 children?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEUT7fXkRI/AAAAAAAABF8/2yMwkcbLKfs/s1600-h/IMG_0095.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEUT7fXkRI/AAAAAAAABF8/2yMwkcbLKfs/s400/IMG_0095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386608961931153682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEUTnxoIlI/AAAAAAAABF0/T6i0T6StRfU/s1600-h/IMG_0076.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEUTnxoIlI/AAAAAAAABF0/T6i0T6StRfU/s400/IMG_0076.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386608956639027794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEUU4SmdUI/AAAAAAAABGM/Cri8oisD84U/s1600-h/IMG_0101.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEUU4SmdUI/AAAAAAAABGM/Cri8oisD84U/s400/IMG_0101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386608978252166466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It is nice to be back in TN as we now try to get into some sort of a schedule. We haven't made any big decisions yet but may be coming close to doing just that. It is difficult not to jump into making decisions for the sake of having some closure. Or for the sake of knowing what tomorrow &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;may&lt;/span&gt; hold. Or for the sake of getting settled. Somewhere. Sometime. In the near future. But we are confident that He &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will &lt;/span&gt;lead in some way. And we're ready to follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I close let me share with you a Karis dance that always brings a smile to my face. Actually, I laugh every time! And coincidentally she chooses to do this dance quite often when she knows she's about to get in trouble :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-2481763895fcf157" 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.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAO3T1daHheEeH3ZcEQIwEb9Td0XRxxlH6DZ-NtE5lpM0Od5Z9eN-JsSCBjYb846giEGjcPu7S7PDC2v3XTplYofvMyZvA9d5QvOjPjQDujQ-yDC58OFAf3vbI0BUcIDmykqWlgGviML3AadVPOLFv81un7StfpudAvUj3Vm_BJGepOCGEtkOFVogdFk8SU2t3AD40j1190BWSjPkP42NQVEGy9fiRTnih_n5Q2KxDFRq%26sigh%3D3p-1fqSti_L7svIweA094AFNJ2U%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D2481763895fcf157%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DGh1Ba_fstXeB9DWUNb9clNSnggs&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAO3T1daHheEeH3ZcEQIwEb9Td0XRxxlH6DZ-NtE5lpM0Od5Z9eN-JsSCBjYb846giEGjcPu7S7PDC2v3XTplYofvMyZvA9d5QvOjPjQDujQ-yDC58OFAf3vbI0BUcIDmykqWlgGviML3AadVPOLFv81un7StfpudAvUj3Vm_BJGepOCGEtkOFVogdFk8SU2t3AD40j1190BWSjPkP42NQVEGy9fiRTnih_n5Q2KxDFRq%26sigh%3D3p-1fqSti_L7svIweA094AFNJ2U%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D2481763895fcf157%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DGh1Ba_fstXeB9DWUNb9clNSnggs&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-4773304678917538889?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/4773304678917538889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=4773304678917538889' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/4773304678917538889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/4773304678917538889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/09/not-really-normal.html' title='Not really normal.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SsEQvvt9teI/AAAAAAAABEs/j5-kQBj0p0o/s72-c/IMG_0026.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-9003220360061000338</id><published>2009-08-24T10:50:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T20:30:17.638-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not really culture shock.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Although I am still noticing differences in culture after being "home" for a week I would hardly call it shock. It is more like simply noticing little things that I forgot about after being away for a while. For example, milk. I am not a huge milk person but I forgot how heavenly milk here tastes compared to there. Another example would be squishy couches. I have become quite accustomed to seeing a soft looking couch yet sitting down with care because looks can be oh-so-deceiving (if you've ever visited Brazil you know exactly what I'm talking about :-) And then there is slight shock when you go out to eat but have to take out a loan to pay it all off at one time. I am missing Brazilian food (especially the abundance of avacado) but enjoying the not-always-so-good-for-you food here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meet Jonathan's cousin, Lorna. Hi, Lorna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLJJSXcWEI/AAAAAAAABCk/lchkPic5gIs/s1600-h/Picture14.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLJJSXcWEI/AAAAAAAABCk/lchkPic5gIs/s400/Picture14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373578466792593474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lorna came all the way from WA to visit us this week! She, I'm afraid, may have experienced more culture shock than we have been experiencing. I even heard a few conversations like this....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lorna: So what food item can you eat here that is TOTALLY different.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jonathan: Boiled peanuts!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: (thinking to myself) What? Boiled peanuts? What are you talking about? Doesn't everybody eat boiled peanuts?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lorna: NO WAY. They boil the peanuts? Are they soggy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jonathan: Yeah! They're really weird. Kell made me try one a few years ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: (thinking to myself, still) Huh? Soggy? They're not soggy...they're just boiled peanuts. The only nut worth eating (aside from pecans, that is) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perhaps growing up in the panhandle of FL I am more southern than I ever realized. Sometimes I put "howdy" in the subject line of an email and up until a few years ago, I believe, I used to always say "y'all." But being away has minimized some of the southern influence in my life. I now notice when somebody says "y'all come back now, ya hear?" or "bless your little heart." And of course the very common "well now, how about that" (in the form of a statement.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, so getting back to Lorna. She is not southern and seeing TN through her eyes was enlightening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only Lorna noticed a sign like this.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLJJne9yJI/AAAAAAAABCs/ons4ML6Fhvo/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLJJne9yJI/AAAAAAAABCs/ons4ML6Fhvo/s400/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373578472461289618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had a lot of fun with Lorna this past week. One adventure was traveling a bit to go to the Mayfield plant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLKaQgOm4I/AAAAAAAABC0/AfIP1r0vobg/s1600-h/Picture3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLKaQgOm4I/AAAAAAAABC0/AfIP1r0vobg/s400/Picture3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373579857861974914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karis' favorite part was wearing a hair net. She even chose to keep hers on after we left the plant and passed the big bin where everybody else dumped theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLKa3_xTMI/AAAAAAAABC8/aZdWWAk63qA/s1600-h/Picture4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLKa3_xTMI/AAAAAAAABC8/aZdWWAk63qA/s400/Picture4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373579868463254722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLKbE_gR1I/AAAAAAAABDE/v8cUSHwoOFE/s1600-h/Picture5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLKbE_gR1I/AAAAAAAABDE/v8cUSHwoOFE/s400/Picture5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373579871951800146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;I am happy to report that my child now knows how to drink from a water-fountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLLGjmQPDI/AAAAAAAABDM/J7r53sf-b3Y/s1600-h/Picture6.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLLGjmQPDI/AAAAAAAABDM/J7r53sf-b3Y/s400/Picture6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373580618901765170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kroeker's have this great tradition where when somebody has a birthday we all go out to eat - mom and dad Kroeker's treat (no matter who's birthday it is.) I really like this tradition. For August it was mom's birthday so she and dad took us to a Japanese steakhouse. OH. YUM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLLmelO4dI/AAAAAAAABDU/8PArtx6asIw/s1600-h/Picture13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLLmelO4dI/AAAAAAAABDU/8PArtx6asIw/s400/Picture13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373581167311118802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YUM. YUM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLLm_6fiQI/AAAAAAAABDc/dpmy29AW3mE/s1600-h/Picture9.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLLm_6fiQI/AAAAAAAABDc/dpmy29AW3mE/s400/Picture9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373581176258660610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YUM. YUM. YUM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLMhuozGSI/AAAAAAAABDs/FrD3d7q5LyM/s1600-h/Picture8.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLMhuozGSI/AAAAAAAABDs/FrD3d7q5LyM/s400/Picture8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373582185233324322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karis ate her entire salad with chop-sticks with a rubber-band on the end. It was awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLLnOxpKSI/AAAAAAAABDk/fM-VRjil0IE/s1600-h/Picture7.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLLnOxpKSI/AAAAAAAABDk/fM-VRjil0IE/s400/Picture7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373581180248074530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then another day this week we traveled a little over an hour away to do a few other fun things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Like play in a water-fountain. She had a blast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLMh-Ao8XI/AAAAAAAABD0/1CNRaJuX4y4/s1600-h/Picture10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLMh-Ao8XI/AAAAAAAABD0/1CNRaJuX4y4/s400/Picture10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373582189359853938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And climb a mountain (perhaps we cheated a bit with the car.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLMiiUbB5I/AAAAAAAABD8/ynkW4czNBp0/s1600-h/Picture11.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLMiiUbB5I/AAAAAAAABD8/ynkW4czNBp0/s400/Picture11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373582199106504594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Usually I don't even bother taking pictures like this as the picture never does the view justice. However this one came pretty close!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLMjJkNLDI/AAAAAAAABEE/jMoreOOVK8o/s1600-h/Picture12.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLMjJkNLDI/AAAAAAAABEE/jMoreOOVK8o/s400/Picture12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373582209641688114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We're heading off to NC tomorrow! Neither of us are really wanting to travel now but both feel it's important to start scouting out our different options. J's parents are going with us so that will be nice to have them along!&lt;br /&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-9003220360061000338?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/9003220360061000338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=9003220360061000338' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/9003220360061000338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/9003220360061000338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/08/not-really-culture-shock.html' title='Not really culture shock.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SpLJJSXcWEI/AAAAAAAABCk/lchkPic5gIs/s72-c/Picture14.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-8056152665229905655</id><published>2009-08-19T09:31:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T10:41:21.059-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying goodbye to Via. And my tooth.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowMcXTA6UI/AAAAAAAABBg/dE4ic81uHHQ/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We have been on U.S. soil for almost a week now. Back to Papa John's pizza, clean houses (which means clean feet), carpet and self-activated stuff. It has only been 8 months since I was in the States for my brother's wedding yet walking into a bathroom where the toilet flushes on it's own (and not always at the correct time), has motion activated soap-dispenser and then motion activated HOT water come out of the sink. Well, it's a bit of a shock! And because I was so preoccupied with other things when I took Karis up to get a drink of water out of a water-fountain (a first for her) it was really humorous to watch her jump back as the water came out! I finally convinced her to try and take a little sip but then she was done. "I not firsty anymore, Mom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Backing up a little over a month ago. Wow, life got hectic. Real "quick-like" as they say here in the hills of Tennessee. Our summer was busy as it was but as we stopped to catch our breath we realized that our plans to come back for furlough and make some hard decisions had changed a bit. We knew that we would not be returning to Brazil...at least for a few years. So then it made sense to close things down, which meant selling or giving away every item we had accumulated in 5 1/2 years except for what could fit into 6 suitcases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karis did really well during the chaos even though she was rather neglected. And not only was she rather neglected but she had two semi-cranky parents who were selling or giving away all of her toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As her toys began to disappear her creativity began to kick in. Of course this was when she still had SOME toys, lots of boxes and furniture to work with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowEkcN2flI/AAAAAAAABAA/uB3DAdBirjs/s1600-h/IMG_1146.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowEkcN2flI/AAAAAAAABAA/uB3DAdBirjs/s400/IMG_1146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371673479642250834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the boxes used up the couches became "boats" with her few toys that were still around. Of course 3 weeks before we left she was down to no furniture and about 3 toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowEkt7geMI/AAAAAAAABAI/ghOuS-EIn_I/s1600-h/IMG_1105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowEkt7geMI/AAAAAAAABAI/ghOuS-EIn_I/s400/IMG_1105.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371673484397148354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And because we didn't want to get too comfortable in the chaos we decided to get the first part of my dental implant done. I can't remember what I have mentioned about that in previous posts but after 6 months of having the tooth extracted the bone regrew enough to do an implant without a bone graft. And I needed to do it soon or the bone would continue to deteriorate without any tooth to keep the bone from...well, deteriorating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowElKuHCPI/AAAAAAAABAQ/Zw-iFuBcUTQ/s1600-h/IMG_1158.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowElKuHCPI/AAAAAAAABAQ/Zw-iFuBcUTQ/s400/IMG_1158.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371673492125583602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan did take a closer picture of the bruised gum and stitches but it showed way too many nose hairs so I opted for this less-disgusting shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first few days after the implant were fine (what you see is not a tooth that was implanted. You can't even see what he did as he put a titanium stud up into bone and then sewed the gum shut to keep out infection. After six months I can get a tooth put in when the bone has healed and grown around the stud.)  But then by the 5th day I was in a lot of pain. Day 6 I was completely useless as I walked around moaning. And day 7 after going back to the dentist and determining that I had infection in the bone. Well, it wasn't pretty folks. Oh wow, the pain. So then onto antibiotics and strong pain meds. After a few more days I was able to start sleeping at night again and my poor husband who took great care of me could concentrate on the 153 things he needed to now get done in a week and a half. Poor guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as a side note I now have a flipper in my mouth (a retainer with a tooth on it!) This will just be until I can get a tooth put into the implant. At first I was a bit insecure about the whole deal but am now feeling rather used to being able to take my front tooth in and out. Jonathan's cousin is here and since she was unaware of what has happened I had this great idea to take it out at supper time and see her reaction as I casually smiled without a tooth. But I crack myself up so much that all day as I thought about it (and wondered what I would do if somebody looked at me without a front tooth) I spent a good part of the day laughing at myself. Then of course when I tried to give her a big smile I laughed so hard I had to put my head down on the table and ruined all I had envisioned. She didn't even have time to notice. Ah well, there's a first time for everything. I have 6 months to practice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough of the whole tooth/implant saga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As I mentioned before, we had to fit everything we wanted to bring back into 6 suitcases. Jonathan did an amazing job, though we did end up bringing back 1 extra piece of luggage to get all of the last minute necessities in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowIxzhAlnI/AAAAAAAABAY/XaCsaG2FMbU/s1600-h/IMG_1167.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowIxzhAlnI/AAAAAAAABAY/XaCsaG2FMbU/s400/IMG_1167.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371678107281430130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an accurate picture of how we all felt those last few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowIyfas-aI/AAAAAAAABAg/wQR1dl4fc9Y/s1600-h/IMG_1065+%282%29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowIyfas-aI/AAAAAAAABAg/wQR1dl4fc9Y/s400/IMG_1065+%282%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371678119066139042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As I was laying in bed one night thinking of everything that had gone wrong or added to our already busy schedules I asked the Lord "Could anything else go wrong?" And then it struck me. Yes, things could definitely be worse. There were a few families who had recently had bouts of lice and although we had been careful...well, had we been careful enough? So of course for several hours when I should have been sleeping I sat in bed scratching my head and feeling very sorry for myself. And I spent the next week doing random checks in our hair throughout the day. Thankfully we were spared that grief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We had to say goodbye to our furry family members. That was sad. And I did tell Jonathan "no matter what, do NOT let me get an animal for at least another year." You see, I have a bad habit of collecting animals and then not being able to keep them for whatever reason. We have been through 6 dogs in less than 6 years. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowIyt2sQNI/AAAAAAAABAo/h3G1LJnfwqE/s1600-h/IMG_1168.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowIyt2sQNI/AAAAAAAABAo/h3G1LJnfwqE/s400/IMG_1168.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371678122941628626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And we all had many difficult goodbyes ahead of us with our not-so-furry friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowIzfKy7CI/AAAAAAAABAw/mBbtdvLNj-o/s1600-h/IMG_1176.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowIzfKy7CI/AAAAAAAABAw/mBbtdvLNj-o/s400/IMG_1176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371678136179289122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowJohIIkLI/AAAAAAAABA4/MpZdjqHycTs/s1600-h/IMG_4178_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowJohIIkLI/AAAAAAAABA4/MpZdjqHycTs/s400/IMG_4178_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371679047238062258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowJo1KI_uI/AAAAAAAABBA/1Ah4mOlCUL0/s1600-h/IMG_1190.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowJo1KI_uI/AAAAAAAABBA/1Ah4mOlCUL0/s400/IMG_1190.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371679052615188194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowJpePW0FI/AAAAAAAABBI/inmdYdO2rt0/s1600-h/IMG_1193.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowJpePW0FI/AAAAAAAABBI/inmdYdO2rt0/s400/IMG_1193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371679063642918994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The last supper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowJpxTgowI/AAAAAAAABBQ/wpDWH6uw_Qg/s1600-h/IMG_1188.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowJpxTgowI/AAAAAAAABBQ/wpDWH6uw_Qg/s400/IMG_1188.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371679068760613634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And of course our child who has traveled more than most people do in their entire lives did great on all four flights and 36 1/2 hours of traveling. After the last flight she was rather dissappointed as she wanted to go on several more airplanes. You know, to try out the different colored ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowMcDryD3I/AAAAAAAABBY/amFd2XLYGnk/s1600-h/IMG_4185.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowMcDryD3I/AAAAAAAABBY/amFd2XLYGnk/s400/IMG_4185.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371682131710971762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowMcXTA6UI/AAAAAAAABBg/dE4ic81uHHQ/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowMcXTA6UI/AAAAAAAABBg/dE4ic81uHHQ/s400/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371682136975796546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we are in TN being spoiled by Jonathan's parents and catching up on a summer's amount of lost sleep. Besides a few episodes of crying for Chief (our huge puppy) she has been nothing but smiles since we arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We really don't know what the future (as in, the next 6 months) holds for us. We will make a trip over to NC to check out a job opportunity there as well as make a trip to FL to see my family. Besides that we have have no idea. Kind of exciting and scary all at the same time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-8056152665229905655?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/8056152665229905655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=8056152665229905655' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/8056152665229905655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/8056152665229905655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/08/saying-goodbye-to-via-and-my-tooth.html' title='Saying goodbye to Via. And my tooth.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SowEkcN2flI/AAAAAAAABAA/uB3DAdBirjs/s72-c/IMG_1146.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-926220009673622734</id><published>2009-07-10T09:50:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T10:55:29.137-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Failure. Again.</title><content type='html'>Oh my readers, my readers. I have failed. Again. I thought for SURE I'd be more consistent at posting once a week or so but I have let you (all 5 of you) down. And I am truly sorry. Please don't leave. I need you. My bloggy-world security is depending on you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alrighty, done with the guilt-trip tactic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I post TONS of pictures from this past month I have a  very blog-worthy story to tell. So don't skip to the pics!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night last week we had supper on the street outside one of our favorite restaurant/snack joints. We pay about 5 dollars to have 4 to 5 fried, puffy, &amp;amp; free-radical-laden pastry thingies along with a smoothie. Good deal huh? (you probably just had a heart attack, Mrs. E...but don't worry, pretty soon we will be thousands of miles away from this joint!) The owners have an adorable little girl Karis' age that sometimes comes around. Well, this night she came and hung out with us most of the time just talking away (and receiving blank stares from Karis who couldn't understand what she was saying.) Now, if you are like I was before I moved overseas and you wonder how a family can live overseas and yet their little kiddos don't speak the native language, well...I know what you mean. I didn't understand that either 'til we did move overseas and had a child. You see, it takes SO much effort to speak a 2nd language to your child in the house. Why should I take the time to say "you, daughter, clean toys in your room" and sound like a non-fluent speaker of the native language when I can say, without thinking "ok, time to clean up your room!"??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we come back after furlough I do have a plan in place for Karis to learn. But until then, English in the home is what it will be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after that excuse I shall continue with my story. So here we are munching down on our $5 heart attacks and this little girl is just talking and talking when Karis decides she really wants to talk to the girl, too! She says "Mom, can I tell her that on my next birthday I'm going to be four?" and I reply "Sure! but uh, well, she won't understand you because she doesn't speak English."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could see the wheels spinning. Kachunk, Kachunk, Kachunk. Then, after about 15 seconds of silence Karis looks up at the girl, holds out four fingers and says "wa ba dooby da da!" I looked at Jonathan, trying hard not to laugh and then back at Karis who was contentedly munching down on supper, once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I thought about it I realized how genius my child is after all. She used a lot of logic in that situation. The little girl says things she can't understand so as long as she says something that even she can't understand, surely the little girl will. I know, I know....a real prodigy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops, these pictures are from before our big trip, actually. A little carnival-type-thing came into town for a few weeks with several rides that would inspire one to write out a will before daring to go on one of those rides. For the longest time we couldn't understand what Karis was talking about when she would ask "Are the cartoons open?" We thought it was a strange way of asking to watch T.V. but one day as we were passing by the carnival she said "Look, the cartoons ARE open! Can we go?" And then it clicked. And because she isn't spoiled, and because she doesn't have both of us wrapped around her little finger we said "no, we are going over to so-and-so's house for supper." And then after supper we took her back....at 10pm, to ride a few rides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thankfull this halfway-safe ride was her favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM48gGnCI/AAAAAAAAA-g/qYVxVsqxlaQ/s1600-h/IMG_4014.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM48gGnCI/AAAAAAAAA-g/qYVxVsqxlaQ/s400/IMG_4014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356834822977657890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This one may appear to look safe, but don't let looks deceive you. Sure, it's a cute little caterpillar and yeah, it only travels at 1-2 mph. But let me tell you, I feared more for my life on the back of that thing than I did on the huge roller coaster rides at Six Flags. As you can probably tell, this picture was taken BEFORE the ride began (hence the smile on my face). Karis naively enjoyed it but after that it was back to the truck ride, for Mama's life just flashed before her eyes. And continued to flash before her eyes the whole 10 minutes that caterpillar would NOT stop going around and around the 50-year-old track that sounded and felt like it was about to break into a million pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM5cQaZyI/AAAAAAAAA-o/MY5qcTAyRiA/s1600-h/IMG_4006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM5cQaZyI/AAAAAAAAA-o/MY5qcTAyRiA/s400/IMG_4006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356834831501780770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A "Jump-o-line." A great alternitive. NO. MORE. CATERPILLAR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM5sOem9I/AAAAAAAAA-w/sTBBO38eM24/s1600-h/IMG_4000.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM5sOem9I/AAAAAAAAA-w/sTBBO38eM24/s400/IMG_4000.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356834835788635090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM57a_LVI/AAAAAAAAA-4/Tb8zuBpe7QI/s1600-h/IMG_4002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM57a_LVI/AAAAAAAAA-4/Tb8zuBpe7QI/s400/IMG_4002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356834839867632978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highschool had a great banquet right before we left on our big trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM4khWdcI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/uu3BsB5gH3E/s1600-h/IMG_4024.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM4khWdcI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/uu3BsB5gH3E/s400/IMG_4024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356834816540440002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ok, now post trip. We have a huge city a few hours from here that has donuts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldN2NXNoPI/AAAAAAAAA_A/IRrK52Vhbq8/s1600-h/IMG_0964.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldN2NXNoPI/AAAAAAAAA_A/IRrK52Vhbq8/s400/IMG_0964.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356835875475792114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more churrasco before the folks head back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldN2ms7NbI/AAAAAAAAA_I/TRYndLfVR-Y/s1600-h/IMG_0965.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldN2ms7NbI/AAAAAAAAA_I/TRYndLfVR-Y/s400/IMG_0965.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356835882277746098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a camp-fire underneath the stars. I mean, carport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldSbXIR0bI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/B0l8B9eCFm8/s1600-h/IMG_1002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldSbXIR0bI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/B0l8B9eCFm8/s400/IMG_1002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356840911799177650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldSbu1eoCI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/NyNxtICwVO4/s1600-h/IMG_1003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldSbu1eoCI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/NyNxtICwVO4/s400/IMG_1003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356840918162776098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karis' friend (practically sister), Kiera, hung out with us that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldSb7K59zI/AAAAAAAAA_g/KvY5ROF74ns/s1600-h/IMG_1000.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldSb7K59zI/AAAAAAAAA_g/KvY5ROF74ns/s400/IMG_1000.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356840921473873714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter how badly they may be fighting, the wonderful solution is to grab the camera and yell "say cheese!" Suddenly, all is ok in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldSc2CoHCI/AAAAAAAAA_w/zrQQeAAIIAY/s1600-h/IMG_0994.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldSc2CoHCI/AAAAAAAAA_w/zrQQeAAIIAY/s400/IMG_0994.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356840937276840994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is such a wonderful, yet humiliating thing to be married to a man who can do anything. He is so mechanically inclined and I am...well, not-so-mechanically-inclined. The only kind of questions I ever get asked are "Should I wear this shirt tonight?" I'm afraid as a wife I am rather dependant on my husband's knowhow. But, just when I was feeling completely useless an opportunity presented itself! And it involved HIS green baby! Sure, it was spreading apart little pieces of metal with a screwdriver that had been smooshed by little bugs on the highway. But still, I did something useful. And I even got my picture taken for it....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldTATiOreI/AAAAAAAAA_4/hBbsrhl_1WY/s1600-h/IMG_3998.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldTATiOreI/AAAAAAAAA_4/hBbsrhl_1WY/s400/IMG_3998.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356841546489441762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So if ever there is a time when my mechanically-inclined husband is tempted to remind me of how useful he is, I can say "but dear, remember the time I sweated over your truck and pulled apart little metal thingies that had been smooshed by bugs?"  Ah, I look forward to that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-926220009673622734?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/926220009673622734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=926220009673622734' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/926220009673622734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/926220009673622734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/07/failure-again.html' title='Failure. Again.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SldM48gGnCI/AAAAAAAAA-g/qYVxVsqxlaQ/s72-c/IMG_4014.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-3714088263947595313</id><published>2009-06-16T12:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T13:26:34.219-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Home.</title><content type='html'>Ah, after 3 1/2 days on the road we are home. HOME! It is so nice. I wouldn't say I'm a homebody but when I'm gone for a while there is nowhere I'd rather be than home. And we are being welcomed by a cold spell from the South. Does it get any better than this?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all of you picture lovers out there I'll go ahead and warn you that this post will have no pictures. I have spent the past 24 hours (almost) unpacking, doing laundry and cleaning out my dusty house (even with the windows and doors shut the dust still manages to find its way into the house.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we traveled for 3 1/2 days to get back (most days we were on the road 8-10 hours) we were able to stop each day and have a decent lunch. One day we even stopped at a restaurant/juice place that we used to love going to (before we moved). They have a mini-zoo behind the restaurant so we were excited for Karis to see the animals. I hit the restroom first while Jonathan took her around to see the animals. When I came out of the bathroom Karis was ecstatic. She came running, jumping and skipping towards me yelling at the top of her lungs (in English) "Mom! Guess what I saw?!!! I saw a chicken!!! I saw a chicken!!! hahahaha! I saw a chicken!!" No, not a "hey mom, I saw a peakock!" or "I saw some monkeys" or even "I saw some parrots, goats, turtles and horses." No folks, she was excited about a chicken. If that does not make you smile then you must know that while some children in the U.S. may not see chickens often my child sees them quite frequently. Chickens are everywhere. As you walk through the neighborhood they're on the side of the streets looking for bugs. As you drive to town you often have to stop to let a mama hen and her chickies finish crossing the road. When you're traveling it is pretty much impossible to go to a gas station and not see chickens running around everywhere (people buy them as chicks and let them run around and fend for themselves 'til the family decides it's time to have them for supper. How they keep their chickens and the neighbor's chickens separated is beyond me.) So while I'm at a loss as to why my child found the sight of a chicken so exciting it did add a bit of entertainment to my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was wonderful (wonderful!) to have my in-laws in the backseat for the trip home. They got their ears talked off for 3 1/2 days straight and did a wonderful job of keeping my 3 1/2 year old entertained. Mom taught her a few songs like "My High Silk Hat" and one about the lady riding on the back of a crocodile. So until she put down her foot and told Karis she needed a break we heard about every ten minutes "Vovo, can you teach me about my high silk hat?" Or "Vovo, can you tell me about that lady and the crocodile?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most entertaining thing though was Karis listening to us play Grandfather's Grocery Store and trying to play as well. It's that game where one person begins by saying "My Grandfather owns a grocery store and in it he sells something that begins with the letter (S)" and then the rest of us try to figure out what item is sold in a grocery store that begins with that letter. Karis got a little better at it but most of the time it would go like this.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karis: My faaaaver wants to be a grocer and he wants to buy the number B.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Bananas?&lt;br /&gt;Karis: No&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Bubble gum?&lt;br /&gt;Karis: No&lt;br /&gt;Dad: Broccoli?&lt;br /&gt;Karis: No&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan: Popcorn?&lt;br /&gt;Karis: Yes! You got it dad! Now it's your turn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Jonathan would take a turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan: My faaaver owns a grocery store and in it he sells something that begins with the letter S.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Sausage?&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan: Nope.&lt;br /&gt;Dad: Squash?&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan: Nope.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sardines?&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan: Nope.&lt;br /&gt;Karis: Bananas?&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan: Yes! Now it's your turn Karis!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it went. Even after hearing Karis begin the game about 231 times it was hard not to laugh every time. What can I say, we find her cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-3714088263947595313?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/3714088263947595313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=3714088263947595313' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/3714088263947595313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/3714088263947595313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/06/home.html' title='Home.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-1570150285998251171</id><published>2009-05-31T10:32:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T11:03:41.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Night Terror</title><content type='html'>Friday night I was home alone with the three kiddos. Benjo and Karis were already down for the night so I was sitting in the rocker holding Dan-the-man and rocking. I heard a funny noise but thought it was Cristy coming home as the dog began barking rather loudly. Then I looked at the clock and realized it was too early for her to be home but that she should arrive in about 10 minutes or so. Then I heard the noise again. And again. Realizing that it was coming from the back yard and thinking it was an animal (possum on the roof?) I ran to the kitchen and peeked out the door. Oh. My. Goodness. No, it is too big to be an animal and it is in the backyard, whatever it is. I quickly locked up the house and turned off the lights in order to see better. I realized that something was landing on the dog-house that was out of view behind the shed. Was somebody jumping the wall and landing on the dog-house? Are they about to try and rob us? Then I saw a head pop up over the wall. It was a guy with a baseball cap. Ok, this is serious. I have no way to get in touch with Cristy. The dog was on the chain (barking up a storm) and any minute she'd come home. What if there was a whole group of robbers hiding out around back when she drove up? I quickly called Jonathan's cell phone praying he'd answer. He did. "Some guys have jumped the back wall and are hiding out behind the shed. Cristy is gone and I'm afraid she's going to drive up any minute. Have Erik call her and tell her not to come home alone!" He gave me a few pointers (yell at the guys to let them know someone is home. Afterall, they probably think the house is empty since the truck is gone). Just as we hung up Cristy pulled up. Before she had time to get out of the truck and close the gate I yelled through the window "Cristy, get in here now! Leave the truck and come inside." Poor girl. I think that scared her a bit. When she came inside I explained what had happened. We called Jonathan back and he said a man from church was coming over. At that point there had been no more noise and none of the guys had come into sight so I was pretty sure they were gone. Actually, because there are some banana trees back there I had even convinced myself it was a group of teenagers stealing bananas when they thought nobody was home (they sure didn't try to be quiet about it!) After we hung up with Jonathan the man from church drive up. Soon to follow were the police. I stayed in the living room while Cristy went out explaining to them what happened. The police had their guns drawn, asking who it was they saw in the house (me). They were very serious about their job, which was very comforting. By now there was quite a crowd lingering around wondering what was going on. The neighbor walked over to Cristy and the police (who he knew personally) and asked what happened. Cristy explained and he said "oh, that was me. I was unloading a bunch of stuff behind the wall. She probably saw my head and heard the noise as I dropped stuff." Yes, that's the end of the story folks. I didn't sleep so well that night but it wasn't out of fear. It was out of embarrassment. How can one person have so many embarrassing moments in one lifetime? I have probably had enough in my lifetime to cover all of you who are reading this (you're welcome.) I'm just glad I get to leave in a week. Poor Cristy has to stay. I did give her permission to blame it all on me once I leave....the "silly sister-in-law."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, let's move onto something more positive. How about pictures of some cute kiddos....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a good day they get along 90% of the time. On a bad day, 10%. Unfortunately this fluctuation that takes place day-to-day is a result of my daughter's behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaMj1LhmI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/s48eJmpWD5Y/s1600-h/Picture5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaMj1LhmI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/s48eJmpWD5Y/s400/Picture5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342001648582231650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Silly girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaLvjXxyI/AAAAAAAAA9w/NAzBtT7NhX4/s1600-h/Picture1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaLvjXxyI/AAAAAAAAA9w/NAzBtT7NhX4/s400/Picture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342001634548893474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The cousins. Daniel looks comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaMEM4gkI/AAAAAAAAA-A/_7oryFlLJ28/s1600-h/Picture3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaMEM4gkI/AAAAAAAAA-A/_7oryFlLJ28/s400/Picture3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342001640091714114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Karis was SO proud to beholding a REAL baby, for the first time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaLzqx64I/AAAAAAAAA94/I9L00_xvsaE/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaLzqx64I/AAAAAAAAA94/I9L00_xvsaE/s400/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342001635653708674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ducky and Froggie towels. I love this picture :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaMfrlS9I/AAAAAAAAA-I/cU1naA1kTjw/s1600-h/Picture4.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaMfrlS9I/AAAAAAAAA-I/cU1naA1kTjw/s400/Picture4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342001647468235730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: none; background: transparent;"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-1570150285998251171?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/1570150285998251171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=1570150285998251171' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/1570150285998251171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/1570150285998251171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/05/friday-night-terror.html' title='Friday Night Terror'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SiKaMj1LhmI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/s48eJmpWD5Y/s72-c/Picture5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-1959942194862657457</id><published>2009-05-28T09:41:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T10:29:14.547-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweat babies and sweet babies.</title><content type='html'>After three days of being on the road we arrived at the armpit of Brazil! Just kidding, it's a nice little town, actually. Just a little hotter than what we're accustomed to. I was a bit worried about adjusting to the temperatures but so far it's been just fine! I may sweat off a pound or two but that would be marvelous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to backtrack to last week to show a few pictures. During the school's field day they held a race for preschoolers. I stood with Karis at the starting line and explained about 21 times what she needed to do...run as fast as she could to papai as soon as the man said "go"! I think she understood just fine the first time and as she began running and seeing all of the people smiling and clapping (I'm sure she thought JUST for her) she soaked up the attention. She loved it. And we loved it. And then we were both so very frustrated that neither of us had thought to bring our camera. And then a few days ago we received some pictures from Grammy-Tammy (I like the sound of that) that she took of Karis during the race. Wow, we are so happy she did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Check out our future athlete in her first race ever....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U00nZ4bI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/tL3vHCPUWDk/s1600-h/IMG_6807.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U00nZ4bI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/tL3vHCPUWDk/s400/IMG_6807.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340869843306013106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of the kids who ran got a first-place ribbon. Karis has no idea what a ribbon is or why they gave her one but we made a big deal about it so she is quite proud of it herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U1G2DM9I/AAAAAAAAA8Y/t9Zub1DCRtI/s1600-h/Karis+and+ribbon.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U1G2DM9I/AAAAAAAAA8Y/t9Zub1DCRtI/s400/Karis+and+ribbon.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340869848199279570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, back to our travels. The first day of traveling we woke up at 4am to leave by 5am. We wanted to drive for about 7 hours so that we could stop for lunch at a water-park on the way. It isn't the most fabulous water-park in the world but since it cost less than $5 for all three of us to get in, we have no right to complain. And we won't. Karis had a blast and got out lots of energy as she went up and down two kiddy slides for 2 hours. It was great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The one picture we took just before we left. I needed a new facebook picture so I asked Jonathan to take this one (well, about 10 of them but this one was the best.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6VNOIxSUI/AAAAAAAAA84/3GH9t2Ci8_w/s1600-h/Karis+and+me.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6VNOIxSUI/AAAAAAAAA84/3GH9t2Ci8_w/s400/Karis+and+me.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340870262473705794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the scenery on our trip. Besides sunflowers we saw acres and acres of cotton, sugar cane and corn. We &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; took pictures of the sunflowers. You're welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6VNMbIKrI/AAAAAAAAA9A/3nXkh_ETY5k/s1600-h/sunflower.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6VNMbIKrI/AAAAAAAAA9A/3nXkh_ETY5k/s400/sunflower.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340870262013831858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If you're planning on traveling in Brazil you need to get used to traveling amongst many trucks. And if you're married to a man who loves buses and trucks you must get used to seeing your life flash before your eyes as he tries to drive and take pictures of them at the same time. And if you're still alive to tell about it then...well....kudos to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U1UhU7hI/AAAAAAAAA8o/m9wKUqlmr3M/s1600-h/IMG_4033.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U1UhU7hI/AAAAAAAAA8o/m9wKUqlmr3M/s400/IMG_4033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340869851870457362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A big "bwazeel fwag"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U1CUi3lI/AAAAAAAAA8g/bpULCgsmRMc/s1600-h/flag.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U1CUi3lI/AAAAAAAAA8g/bpULCgsmRMc/s400/flag.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340869846985006674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One of my all time favorite things to experirence when traveling here is going through a "boiada" (a cattle drive.) We went through the biggest herd of cows ever on the way here! It was really cool...it almost felt like it would take an hour to get through all of the cows. But I loved it. I love looking at cow's faces. They have such cute faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is a picture of one of the cowboys at the front of the cattle drive. They always have one that goes a ways ahead of the others to warn oncoming traffic. Then they have several direclty in front of the herd and a few in the middle to get the cows to move for the cars and then a few in the back to keep some from straying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6VM_NZPiI/AAAAAAAAA8w/PXieSHqElvI/s1600-h/boiada+cowboy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6VM_NZPiI/AAAAAAAAA8w/PXieSHqElvI/s400/boiada+cowboy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340870258466569762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a short  video to try and share what it's like driving through cows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-626b4efecd63c512" 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.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAIiSxp13MRsP2RXZVN7myjIuq35wStVBaIFyXICrUW5uPlKVOsxLSoF1BSsLIwYxu4ygGGz3WNZphp_e3iqlgkP89pjE2B2ZOfivlaY0AvCnrqCa3wDtWrHD3ms3Np-A63g-PaiwjwYchhHouV5M8GwlGHaBXMW7XDuPd7MsTaieZnMXjVcnx9j81cdTI9swPUG_TaU8iO8JpQXST1wOLUNcXwcU4q6QTN3xnATgaSFG%26sigh%3DmOBP90exZYNlXEnqj97Z_uti3FE%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D626b4efecd63c512%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DM9LhHSyy22hytSOBvZzoklrD0ls&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAIiSxp13MRsP2RXZVN7myjIuq35wStVBaIFyXICrUW5uPlKVOsxLSoF1BSsLIwYxu4ygGGz3WNZphp_e3iqlgkP89pjE2B2ZOfivlaY0AvCnrqCa3wDtWrHD3ms3Np-A63g-PaiwjwYchhHouV5M8GwlGHaBXMW7XDuPd7MsTaieZnMXjVcnx9j81cdTI9swPUG_TaU8iO8JpQXST1wOLUNcXwcU4q6QTN3xnATgaSFG%26sigh%3DmOBP90exZYNlXEnqj97Z_uti3FE%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D626b4efecd63c512%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DM9LhHSyy22hytSOBvZzoklrD0ls&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is what Karis was doing during the boiada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6VNfEBH0I/AAAAAAAAA9I/Cs1Zh-P0_5g/s1600-h/karis+sleeping.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6VNfEBH0I/AAAAAAAAA9I/Cs1Zh-P0_5g/s400/karis+sleeping.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340870267017174850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my batteries in my camera died and I want to make sure I have plenty of bloggy material for this week I'm going to show just a few pictures from yesterday....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The two cousins playing in the water. Trying to stay cool and wearing themselves out in order to take a good nap for their mommies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6dTNQdL8I/AAAAAAAAA9Q/_vk6RvauyRQ/s1600-h/Karis+and+benjo+in+water+1.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6dTNQdL8I/AAAAAAAAA9Q/_vk6RvauyRQ/s400/Karis+and+benjo+in+water+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340879161409744834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6dTZBq4ZI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/ZZxMSmn9eXw/s1600-h/Karis+and+benjo+in+water+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6dTZBq4ZI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/ZZxMSmn9eXw/s400/Karis+and+benjo+in+water+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340879164568953234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6dTrM1JCI/AAAAAAAAA9g/6nTGmMHvGIM/s1600-h/Karis+and+Benjo+in+water+3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6dTrM1JCI/AAAAAAAAA9g/6nTGmMHvGIM/s400/Karis+and+Benjo+in+water+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340879169447601186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My 2nd newest nephew (by a day!), Daniel. It's fun to be around a newborn again. Makes me wish I could spend some time with my newest (by a day!) nephew, Rowen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6dTj4WMjI/AAAAAAAAA9o/cX0Mp79ZUgs/s1600-h/Daniel+in+towell.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6dTj4WMjI/AAAAAAAAA9o/cX0Mp79ZUgs/s400/Daniel+in+towell.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340879167482638898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-1959942194862657457?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=626b4efecd63c512&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/1959942194862657457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=1959942194862657457' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/1959942194862657457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/1959942194862657457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/05/sweat-babies-and-sweet-babies.html' title='Sweat babies and sweet babies.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sh6U00nZ4bI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/tL3vHCPUWDk/s72-c/IMG_6807.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-8711088490702953751</id><published>2009-05-23T19:20:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T19:33:12.194-04:00</updated><title type='text'>On the road again (the elephant-sized pot-hole-filled road, that is)</title><content type='html'>Just a warning, this post will not have any photos. I know, how am I to keep up any sort of a readership without pictures? I don't know but I've already learned a valuable lesson. If you want lots of people coming to your blog and commenting all one needs to do is write a controversial post! How many comments did I get? 20 something? Either way it was really fun to hear everyone's thoughts on the issue. I'm sure more can be said but I'm going to wait 'til I'm feeling desperate for a post that gets more than 2 comments before I expound anymore on that topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been on the road for 2 solid days. Karis is doing amazing, which is a huge blessing. She took a 4 hour nap yesterday afternoon and then surprised us by doing the same thing today! The only down side to that is that when we finally arrive at the hotel completely exhausted she is ready to run a marathon. Last night wasn't bad though, I fell right to sleep. I guess I don't really know if she went right to sleep or not...I think I was too tired to be awakened. Maybe that explains the blue toothpaste I found all over the pillow this morning? Or the lip stick on the walls? Just kidding...whatever she did while I slept soundly wasn't destructive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also received word last night that my grandma passed away. A lot could be said about that. Even though I'm grieving now &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I won't be able to really deal with it 'til we go there in August, I walk in the door to their house and only my granddaddy is there to greet us. This is definitely one of the most frustrating aspects to living overseas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I think I better put a leash on my daughter and run her around the building about 25 times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-8711088490702953751?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/8711088490702953751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=8711088490702953751' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/8711088490702953751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/8711088490702953751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/05/on-road-again-elephant-sized-pot-hole.html' title='On the road again (the elephant-sized pot-hole-filled road, that is)'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-3768669400865253787</id><published>2009-05-16T13:04:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T07:24:20.084-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Planning - A Godly Act?</title><content type='html'>I apologize for the sporadic posting. I really am sorry. But my friend sent me a link to this video which has me all fired up on this subject...I just HAVE to post about it now, while the million thoughts are running through my head. If you didn't already read yesterday's post, a fluffy family post, and you're curious about our new "news" I would encourage you to scroll down and read that first. This post will be quite controversial but I'm honestly hoping for a lot of feedback and discussion! It may be a long drawn out discussion since I'm down to a few people reading a day...but we'll see. Before you read anymore please go watch this video...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-3X5hIFXYU"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-3X5hIFXYU&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, I need to admit something. Growing up as the oldest of 9 children and having the experience of always feeling criticized for that fact (mostly from Christians and some from non) I admit that until recently I either 1.) Didn't want the subject to come up because it brought a lot of pain or 2.) The subject did come up but I was so defensive in my response that I  unknowingly brought an abrupt end to the conversation. If you happen to be an individual who experienced the latter with me, I am truly sorry. I believe I'm to the point now where even though I do feel strongly on this subject I am open and WANTING an open, honest discussion on family planning (as Christians.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To open up a discussion I'd like to present a case for why I have come to the conclusion I've come to. And that conclusion is, in a nut shell, that more often then not God wants to bless us as believers with more than 1.8 children. He wants His kingdom to grow through us reproducing AND evangelizing the world. Because I am not spending days writing and rewriting my position I may go back and change or edit something. But again, I'm anxious to open up this can of worms while the topic is heavily on my mind!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off I'd like to address the most common "reasons" I have been told why Christian couples choose to limit and/or control the size of their family and my response to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) "I couldn't handle anymore children."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that most people who use this as a reason to limit their family size do so very sincerely. They may feel overwhelmed at home with the children they already have and feel like they couldn't do a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt; job if they were to allow any more little ones into their lives. I understand this as I have gone through many things in my life that if I had known beforehand were going to happen  &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;and also&lt;/span&gt; had the choice to opt out, I probably would have! However this is not a biblical response. If you look at any of the heroes of the faith in the Bible all were called at one time or another to do something beyond their capability. God longs to do the "impossible" through us, His willing vessels. The truth is, we don't know what we can handle. Many of us go through situations in life that we didn't know we could handle yet were brought to the other side of the bridge, by God's grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) "I wouldn't be able to properly provide for them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I grew up in what was considered to be a "poor" family and because a lot of that was due to the number of children my parents had I feel like this is a very easy case to argue. Not always (so please don't feel judged if this doesn't apply to you) but more often then not I feel like this reason has roots of selfishness. Many don't want to consider what they would have to give up material wise should they have more than 2 kids. The responsibility to provide and care for several children sounds overwhelming, I know. But when it comes down to it many Christians really don't want to consider giving up their nice car or home. Or yearly vacation. Or free time on the weekend. We must be very, very careful not to make such a big decision on something that can be rooted out of selfish desires. Or fear, for that matter. You may think "we're barely making it month to month as it is, there is no way we could survive if we had more mouths to feed." I and many, many large families can testify that as the family grows the Lord provides. You have to learn to live without some luxuries, but He does take care of our needs. I have absolutely NO regrets growing up in a "poor" home. In fact, I am extremely grateful for this. Even though compared to the rest of the world we never were "poor", compared to my friends who grew up in wealthy families we were and many friends who didn't experience life like we did suffered in some ways because of it. If everything is handed to you on a silver platter or you grow up with comforts and luxuries, viewing them as "necessities" it is going to be a lot more difficult to put others above yourself once you're out in the world. I see this firsthand in some of my friend's lives. Growing up for them was about ease, comfort and entertainment. They struggle to think of a world outside of themselves. Please know that I do not, by any means, want to make a generalization that those who grow up in wealthy families are doomed for failure. I know many wealthy families who have children who love the Lord, wholeheartedly. But we must reevaluate this reason if we are using it to control our family size. Am I making this choice based out of fear or selfishness? Am I lacking faith that God can and will provide?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) "I've seen what can happen to large families and the chaos that entails and I don't believe that honors God. I don't want that for my family."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe me, I do understand this reasoning. I am not naturally a very tolerant person of chaos. Spending a day in a home that is chaotic sends me home with a head ache and a heavy heart! We probably all know at least one large family that lives in constant chaos and it overwhelms us just thinking about it. But let's step back and look at this situation objectively. Is it really the number of children that is the problem? Or is the heart of the issue something else? I have walked into homes that have 1-3 children that are loud and chaotic. I've babysat for families who only have a few children yet their daily lives are far from peaceful. I have also walked into a house that was home to 10+ children but unless you knew the family personally you'd be shocked to discover that fact! The house is quiet. The children are respectful and peaceful while in the house. It is pleasant to spend time in a home like that. With that being said, could the heart of the issue be something completely different? It&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; is &lt;/span&gt;true that if you have 2 out of control children in the home it still isn't &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;as&lt;/span&gt; chaotic as 10 out of control children in the home. But why not focus on getting the children under control vs. using that as a reason to not have any more? If you are one who believes that every child should be involved in extra curricular activities then the thought of running here and there taking your kids to this practice and that practice then having more than 2 kids sounds impossible. And it probably would be. However we need to reevaluate why we believe all of these extra curricular activities are so important and whether or not they are the best for our family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.) "I wouldn't be able to spend the individual time with them that they need."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a very sincere concern on the part of many parents. But again, as the oldest of 9 it comes down to the parents &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;making&lt;/span&gt; family time happen. Most kids would get bored with more than 20 minutes of one-on-one time with a parent. Family activities are so healthy and SO much fun in a large family! As long as parents are available for a child when it is needing individual attention, then really that is the main thing. I never felt "attention deprived" growing up and the amount of one on one time with my parents was rather minimal. Some children may need more than I needed but overall this is a concern that parents need not have. As long as family is important to you, you will be able to spend the time with your children that they need. I spent a month with a family here in Brazil who has 55 children (53 are adopted). If you walked into their home you would not be met with sad looking faces on the children who were so "attention deprived." On the contrary, they have a family unity that is amazing and although it is rare for a child to get more than 10 minutes of individual time with a parent at a time they are very happy and content children. The family dynamics were amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.) "I've seen large families with very dysfunctional children. That is not what I want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is something extremely sad about witnessing a large family send several dysfunctional children into the world. Instead of changing the world for good they have only added to the problem. But similar to question 3, can we honestly say that the size of the family is to blame? Sure, it's worse to add 10 basket cases to today's population than 2 but what is the heart of the issue? Let's focus on WHY those children have issues in their lives and seek to correct it. Not use that as a reason to not have more than a few kiddos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.) "Having more than a few children will hinder the ministry the Lord has given me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being on the mission field this is a very common concern. Children take time, which takes away from "ministry." But we have to remember that raising children is for a limited amount of time. "Ministry" may have to be put on hold for a short time but in the end the world is going to receive more "ministry" when you send several soldiers for Jesus out into the world! Not to mention how having children in itself opens up doors to ministry that otherwise wouldn't exist. God may place a desire in you to minister in a certain people group in a particular way (Indians, orphans, unbelievers at work, etc) and maybe you won't be able to go at it 100% while having children at home to raise. However, that doesn't mean that one day you won't be able to give it 100%. And who knows, maybe you'll have a grown son or daughter who has the same desire who can come along side and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;continue&lt;/span&gt; that ministry even after you're gone! There are so many possibilities. We have to be very careful not to rationalize and spiritualize  a decision we've made without taking the time to pray and seek the Lord's hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those seem to be the main concerns presented to me by those who choose smaller family sizes. If there is another biggie that I have missed please feel free to include that in the comment section!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I say anymore please let me clarify that I am not convinced that God wants everyone to have 6 or more children. My main motivation for writing this out and spurring on a discussion is because SO MANY never truly sit back, pray and seek the Lord in this area. It is the norm for a Christian couple to be counseled to put off having children a few years after they are married to "get to know each other" or "grow in their relationship" before the burden of children is put on them. Trying to decide "the perfect" time to have children is a scary thought because there is no &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;perfect time&lt;/span&gt;. God uses children to grow us up and mature us in many ways. I realize that isn't the only way God matures us. It just seems like God likes to use children as a tool for growing His children. Why try to prevent that or delay it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This IS a gray area to some extent and I understand that. There is no "thou shalt not limit the size of your family" written in His word. But I believe so much of it is about our mindset. I'm not including specific verses because it would take way too long (this is already taking up my afternoon!) but if you read throughout the Bible (especially the Psalms) you will see that children are labeled as a blessing. Do we really believe that? You will also see that the command God gave Noah (and never retracted or changed) was to "be fruitful and multiply." We've seen from the video what some of the consequences are (and will be) by not multiplying. The world would scoff at this idea, I'm sure, that having children is a godly act. Remember, it's not just having children but raising and training them to love Jesus...and to share His love with the world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on a side note...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is interesting to go back and discover the history of family planning in the U.S. We can learn so much about a subject by studying it's history! Who pushed this idea in our country? What were her intentions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to reiterate again that although I do feel rather firm in my belief on this subject I understand that others will contemplate, pray, seek the Lord and come to a different conclusion. Really, that's ok because ultimately it is between us and the Lord. My biggest desire, as mentioned earlier, is to stimulate a discussion and for those who have never taken the time to pray about this subject objectively, would be inspired to do so. Let's discuss this very sensitive topic and may the Lord be glorified in it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me end with one of my favorite quotes about children....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Children are the luxury of marital life, the treasure of the parents, the wealth of the family life. Their presence develops a great number of virtues in the parents, the father and mother: love, devotion and self-sacrifice, the care for the future, interest in the community, the art of education. Children check selfishness in parents, reconcile the contrasts, soften the differences, bring the hearts of the parents ever closer to each other, give them a common interest that lives outside of themselves, and open their eyes and hearts to their surroundings and posterity."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Dr. H. Barinck&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-3768669400865253787?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/3768669400865253787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=3768669400865253787' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/3768669400865253787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/3768669400865253787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/05/family-planning-godly-act.html' title='Family Planning - A Godly Act?'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-6202167186793941222</id><published>2009-05-15T14:24:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T17:53:11.309-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nope, not preggo.</title><content type='html'>So sorry for the mean trick I played on my last post! Sort of. I mean, I'm sorry it wasn't a nice trick but I did manage to get 19 whole readers that day! And that is quite an improvement from what I've been getting the past 5 months. I almost tried to come up with another doozy for this post (sp?) but I figure I need to space those out otherwise I won't be able to accomplish my objective (lure in readers.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I am a gracious person I won't leave all 19 of you on pins and needles as to what my new "news" is (and because I have about 30 pictures to put on this post so I figure 14 of the 19 probably wouldn't make it that far!) The news is....we're heading to the States the end of the summer. For how long? Don't really know. At least 4 months. It seems like everything in our lives could be drastically changing soon! We don't really know. A lot of this began with a new policy the mission passed that (as of now) we do not feel inclined to comply with (after weeks of prayer.) We need to seek out all of our options. Our options to return to Brazil with the same mission, our options to return to Brazil with a different mission, our options to possibly take an assignment with the same mission in the U.S., our options to stay in the U.S. without being a part of a mission at all and our options to possibly join a different mission and go to a different country. That's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In some ways it's a scary place to be. In some ways an annoying place to be (I thought life was finally going to get somewhat predictable!) And in some ways it is a very exciting place to be. I have my own dreams and desires yet I am just praying wholeheartedly that the Lord will place on our hearts exactly what and where He would like us to be. Or if there are some options that we can choose from that we will have wisdom and unity in a choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will be traveling towards the end of next week for 3 weeks or so. It will be nice to get away for a little while to reflect on all that has happened the past month! Jonathan will be taking his parents and our brother in law on a village trip to distribute some Old Testament recordings. Karis and I will get to stay with Jonathan's sister, Cristy, and her two little boys during that time! I'm looking forward to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's the big news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we have finally been able to download pictures onto the computer that were taken a few weeks ago! Karis experienced her first ever camp fire (I think her first, I am not so good about writing stuff down.) She LOVED it! She's been begging us to do it again. I hope we can before we travel next week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Prep work. Jonathan hooking up some lights for the campfire. I don't know why. I didn't even think to ask 'til just now as I'm writing this post. Why do we need lights at a camp fire? Ah well, I'm sure there's a reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg21JCVlFSI/AAAAAAAAA6o/J1pKtYyjDhY/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg21JCVlFSI/AAAAAAAAA6o/J1pKtYyjDhY/s400/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336120300354737442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I think that is supposed to be a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg21JZ2oh2I/AAAAAAAAA6w/lKIaJh0rO6o/s1600-h/Picture3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg21JZ2oh2I/AAAAAAAAA6w/lKIaJh0rO6o/s400/Picture3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336120306667390818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, must have been. This smile is somewhat normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg27fFCbfeI/AAAAAAAAA64/QTnIjniE2W8/s1600-h/Picture4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg27fFCbfeI/AAAAAAAAA64/QTnIjniE2W8/s400/Picture4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336127276106612194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry this picture is sideways. It takes too long to rotate it, save it and then upload it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg27fYAZWvI/AAAAAAAAA7A/VjO8lZkUKug/s1600-h/Picture5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg27fYAZWvI/AAAAAAAAA7A/VjO8lZkUKug/s400/Picture5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336127281198357234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really was fun! We used to go camping all the time before we moved here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg27fSfB4nI/AAAAAAAAA7I/KvCZSkwCXWE/s1600-h/Picture6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg27fSfB4nI/AAAAAAAAA7I/KvCZSkwCXWE/s400/Picture6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336127279716229746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a while to convince her she could cook her nitrate laden hot-dog over the fire herself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg3AjlPvfLI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/P-WTYxeZyFE/s1600-h/Picture7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg3AjlPvfLI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/P-WTYxeZyFE/s400/Picture7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336132851029998770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The child who hardly ever expresses any fear was afraid of the fire. This is a good thing, folks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg3Ajzcn-GI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/eaAjGgUVt50/s1600-h/Picture8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg3Ajzcn-GI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/eaAjGgUVt50/s400/Picture8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336132854842128482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh oh, doesn't appear to be much fear left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg3AkHm-w6I/AAAAAAAAA7g/ZyfJ0ACtRlI/s1600-h/Picture9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg3AkHm-w6I/AAAAAAAAA7g/ZyfJ0ACtRlI/s400/Picture9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336132860254274466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And this, my friends, is why I try very hard to always keep the camera in MY possession.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg3AkHOJMCI/AAAAAAAAA7o/5MMJFqm-_p8/s1600-h/Picture10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg3AkHOJMCI/AAAAAAAAA7o/5MMJFqm-_p8/s400/Picture10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336132860150100002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another random note. Chief beat the odds and has conquered distemper! Now if he could survive the wrath of Jonathan as he continues to sneak into the house and destroy Karis' flip-flops. 5 pairs in less than 3 weeks. Good thing they only cost $2.50!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg21Is3ylEI/AAAAAAAAA6g/KKzbc17u5zc/s1600-h/Picture1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg21Is3ylEI/AAAAAAAAA6g/KKzbc17u5zc/s400/Picture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336120294592648258" 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/5558965005009136792-6202167186793941222?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/6202167186793941222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=6202167186793941222' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6202167186793941222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6202167186793941222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/05/nope-not-preggo.html' title='Nope, not preggo.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sg21JCVlFSI/AAAAAAAAA6o/J1pKtYyjDhY/s72-c/Picture2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-8330956583631808777</id><published>2009-05-07T09:50:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T13:31:26.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm pregnant with triplets!</title><content type='html'>Ok, just kidding but I couldn't come up with a good title so I thought I'd throw that in there for fun. Sure wish I could see or hear the reaction that title may have caused. I guess I'll just have to enjoy it via my own imagination :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm losing my readership. Really, I am. Perhaps it has something to do with the sporadic manner in which I've been posting the past 6 months. Twice a week, then once a month, then once every few months, then twice a week again. I'm not sure why but I find security in knowing I write something worth reading. Even if it is just family, the oh-so-obligated ones. The truth is, life has sort of taken over. Bloggy life was naturally put on the back burner as our days filled up with....stuff. But, there is light at the end of the tunnel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only have a few more weeks of Portuguese class. It has been a great blessing and has jump started my language learning in a new way, which I am very grateful for. However, having 3 1/2 hour classes twice a week is something I won't miss too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my pictures take 30 minutes to load I'll go off on a slight rabbit trail. A Karis story, to be honest. Several weeks ago when Jonathan was traveling I had a friend offer to watch Karis so that I could go to Bible study (yahoo!). She was watching Karis at another friend's house whose children were already in bed. As I left I told Lita that Karis was probably going to ask for cookies but that she could only have water while I was gone (thinking that the munchkin would take advantage of the situation and do her best to convince Lita she needed lots of cookies in my absense.) However, I didn't think about the fact that Karis didn't eat very much for supper and may need something else before bedtime. So after an hour or so passed Karis began asking Lita for food but Lita wanted to respect my wishes of only giving her water so she kept turning down each and every request that Karis threw her way. After 30 minutes or so Lita saw Karis go out the front door (remember that by now it's 9pm at night and pitch black outside.) "oh, Karis, you need to come inside...don't go outside, it's dark." To which Karis replied in a pathetic &amp;amp; whiney voice "but I have to. I HAVE to find some food!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pictures have finally loaded! It is 2pm and I am just now finishing this post that began at 9:15am today....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love this picture. They were watching soccer. This is what I would be doing myself after about 5 minutes of watching a black and white ball being kicked around a patch of grass. Brazilian soccer players do make it more interesting as they are quite dramatic when somebody so much as looks at them funny on the field. Yes, I'm done now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMWRWkLzxI/AAAAAAAAA5o/63Z5KhnXTYY/s1600-h/Picture1.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMWRWkLzxI/AAAAAAAAA5o/63Z5KhnXTYY/s400/Picture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333130871107735314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Technically speaking dry season should be in full swing. Thankfully, we're still getting some rain!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMWRvhH97I/AAAAAAAAA5w/pcXB0vECXLA/s1600-h/Picture2.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMWRvhH97I/AAAAAAAAA5w/pcXB0vECXLA/s400/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333130877805787058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Karis' new favorite thing to do is to build "airplanes" in her room. This is the most frequently built airplane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW4NF8o5I/AAAAAAAAA54/YIVqnosbvl8/s1600-h/Picture4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW4NF8o5I/AAAAAAAAA54/YIVqnosbvl8/s400/Picture4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333131538579891090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She will crawl in there and spent up to 20 minutes sometimes just hanging out! Unfortunately this doesn't occur when I'm cooking or during a time I'd really like her to hang out underneath a pillow or two, but still, it's nice she can keep herself entertained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW4e7FV6I/AAAAAAAAA6A/vNlOzADY35U/s1600-h/Picture3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW4e7FV6I/AAAAAAAAA6A/vNlOzADY35U/s400/Picture3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333131543366162338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And because I thought I was short on pictures this morning for this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW4q1fHoI/AAAAAAAAA6I/MlZCTm8_DeI/s1600-h/Picture5.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW4q1fHoI/AAAAAAAAA6I/MlZCTm8_DeI/s400/Picture5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333131546563911298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW41u0XsI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/3hUEMs1SqrQ/s1600-h/Picture6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW41u0XsI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/3hUEMs1SqrQ/s400/Picture6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333131549488733890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this was part of a dance choreographed by the munchkin herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW5QCw6BI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/uivGp4buew8/s1600-h/Picture7.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMW5QCw6BI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/uivGp4buew8/s400/Picture7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333131556551714834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And because we're mean parents :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-8da58e2483dee264" 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.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAADbdx0ctBZ6r0jjgHMEoxabVV3J2NuuOKwz1lB1ZsXk0lbv0XhWtlGrO7lmQe8Qy1_2x0xkuNyJ0ZMtnMd9nklvRgwspULCLooddG4U9yMhD9acDuLNi2FwVOisBOFWM62xcFanZoDxScF0aOKPXsbYMmulwI-1721b5YRHPzEzAR-v_TV1SQ2pHCZ0QxbVfiqadARiNKXsATk0jh7q3gMVQyWJEQLvxKWJHkJicWJiq%26sigh%3DLr2dpaybKG5evFnpAlFYPh4Ay5M%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8da58e2483dee264%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3D4CU6nLSsqiK0HDSdaP0kRAkU52o&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAADbdx0ctBZ6r0jjgHMEoxabVV3J2NuuOKwz1lB1ZsXk0lbv0XhWtlGrO7lmQe8Qy1_2x0xkuNyJ0ZMtnMd9nklvRgwspULCLooddG4U9yMhD9acDuLNi2FwVOisBOFWM62xcFanZoDxScF0aOKPXsbYMmulwI-1721b5YRHPzEzAR-v_TV1SQ2pHCZ0QxbVfiqadARiNKXsATk0jh7q3gMVQyWJEQLvxKWJHkJicWJiq%26sigh%3DLr2dpaybKG5evFnpAlFYPh4Ay5M%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8da58e2483dee264%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3D4CU6nLSsqiK0HDSdaP0kRAkU52o&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have many changes taking place in our lives. After next week we'll have more details to share about what the future holds for the Kroeker family!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-8330956583631808777?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/8330956583631808777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=8330956583631808777' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/8330956583631808777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/8330956583631808777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-pregnant-with-triplets.html' title='I&apos;m pregnant with triplets!'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SgMWRWkLzxI/AAAAAAAAA5o/63Z5KhnXTYY/s72-c/Picture1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-7838287185234184601</id><published>2009-04-24T21:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T21:36:02.586-04:00</updated><title type='text'>From the mouth of my 3 year old...</title><content type='html'>Karis:Mom, can I have a brownie?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Nope, not tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Karis: Ugh, I'm getting sick again. My tummy hurts. I need a brownie to help me feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(this is the first time she has tried to use this type of manipulation:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karis: Hey mom, remember when I was little and I thought I was big? Remember when I was big and I thought I was little? That's a silly catechism!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I am teaching her a catechism these days, hence, the new vocabulary word)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-7838287185234184601?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/7838287185234184601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=7838287185234184601' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/7838287185234184601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/7838287185234184601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/04/from-mouth-of-my-3-year-old.html' title='From the mouth of my 3 year old...'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-6496973612798159914</id><published>2009-04-17T06:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T07:20:04.172-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the Sun Shine In....</title><content type='html'>Isn't Sunshine glorious? I truly never realized how much I was affected by the weather. We went a week or two without good sunshine and it was rough. Really rough. Now the sun has returned and kept us not-so-gloomy on a regular basis. I love the sun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun means....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Laundry gets done! Fresh, grassy smelling sheets. Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehfmPWKUGI/AAAAAAAAA4w/wRl41xI-oK8/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehfmPWKUGI/AAAAAAAAA4w/wRl41xI-oK8/s400/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325611669924761698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Having the sun out also means we have many butterfly friends around. My sister in law has a peculiar fear of butterflies. I love butterflies. I'm mentioning her fear to see if she's still reading my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehfmQgvp_I/AAAAAAAAA44/Z3sXdI5XzAs/s1600-h/post+picture.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehfmQgvp_I/AAAAAAAAA44/Z3sXdI5XzAs/s400/post+picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325611670237587442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This has nothing to do with the sun but when I'm mentally prepared for the mess (about once a week) Karis' new favorite thing to do is to "cook"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sehfz4dMhgI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/U638HGlJH00/s1600-h/Picture3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sehfzg08UiI/AAAAAAAAA5I/ArM9vpUp_zM/s1600-h/Picture6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sehfzg08UiI/AAAAAAAAA5I/ArM9vpUp_zM/s400/Picture6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325611897955570210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehfzkbeMuI/AAAAAAAAA5A/IRyz6yyyitc/s1600-h/Picture5.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehfzkbeMuI/AAAAAAAAA5A/IRyz6yyyitc/s400/Picture5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325611898922480354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Everybody remember our little Chief (aka Chief-a-doo, Chiefton, etc)??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehiQIe-JKI/AAAAAAAAA5g/MOTQWn-jTno/s1600-h/IMG_3672.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehiQIe-JKI/AAAAAAAAA5g/MOTQWn-jTno/s400/IMG_3672.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325614588660425890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have very sad news. Chief-a-doo has distemper. Poor little guy. I am treating him at home but his chances of making it are rather slim. He is acting so much more normal now after a few days of treatment (eating a little bit, playing) but I have to remind myself that that doesn't mean that he has a better chance of making it. He could in the next few months start having convulsions, and then that's it. Does anybody remember Chicky? My poor sickly, paralized parakeet from last year? Anybody seeing a pattern here? For your own good, animals, stay. away. from. us. Please, it is not worth the risk of catching the Kroeker-pet-curse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a slightly funny note...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karis has heard me talk to others about Chief and so she understands that he is probably going to die. I guess she isn't old enough to be affected by this in a negative way but just takes it all in stride, confidently telling people "Chief is going to die". Well, the other day I was visiting with a friend in our living room when Karis came in running and exclaimed "Mommy! Chief isn't sleeping! And he isn't dead either!" Thanks for the great news, munchkin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinda off subject, again. But sometimes I wonder if Karis is having vivid dreams at night and then remembering them the next day. Almost every day she says things like "remember when so-and-so climbed the mountain and fell off?" Uh, no. Don't remember that one. Or "do you remember Mrs. Smith? She has a present for me. It's a pretty box and a butterfly" (I'm serious about the butterfly...she really said that, I'm not just trying to stick with a butterfly theme.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alrighty-who, time to get this day started!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: none; background: transparent;"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-6496973612798159914?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/6496973612798159914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=6496973612798159914' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6496973612798159914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6496973612798159914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/04/let-sun-shine-in.html' title='Let the Sun Shine In....'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SehfmPWKUGI/AAAAAAAAA4w/wRl41xI-oK8/s72-c/Picture2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-2038211711445461035</id><published>2009-04-05T18:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T18:29:41.198-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A short post....I think.</title><content type='html'>Karis and I are alone, once again. One of the great advantages to being apart from my hubs (got that word from Mamahen...thanks, I like it!) is that it is always so nice to reunite. Especially if his trip is longer than a week. It is still nice to reunite after a week but we're so accustomed to longer amounts of time that one week goes by pretty quickly. Anyway, we are already waiting for his return. And we have about 12 more days!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took Karis to the little park here for a few minutes this afternoon. I have taught her how we can swing on the swing together and I called it "the spider" (what we used to call it as kids, not sure if that's a common thing to call it or just a Wesolowski thing?) So I put her on my lap facing towards me and we started swinging. Some kids started to approach and she said "hey look guys, we're doing spider fings! (things)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I haven't mentioned yet is that this past month I became involved with a few other girls in a ministry to a poor community on the outskirts of town. We go on Friday mornings to the school to teach a Bible class and then on Sunday afternoon we lead a children's church service in the same neighborhood. I am so blessed by this opportunity! So many of these children have parents who are either drunks, druggies or drug lords.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is my friend Marcela who is pretty much heading up this ministry. She has such a heart for the children! I've been blessed by her in many ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdksI2fNj0I/AAAAAAAAA3w/jEvSlm_qlis/s1600-h/Imagem+689.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdksI2fNj0I/AAAAAAAAA3w/jEvSlm_qlis/s400/Imagem+689.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321332965291953986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the building we use on Sundays to teach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdksIfGLDlI/AAAAAAAAA3o/D-HBmjKyZUQ/s1600-h/Imagem+688.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdksIfGLDlI/AAAAAAAAA3o/D-HBmjKyZUQ/s400/Imagem+688.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321332959012916818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since I haven't taken my camera yet here is one obscure picture that happens to have me in it. And it just so happens that I only look 20 lbs overweight in this one as opposed to 50 lbs overweight in the other pictures. This little boy is so cute...he is our most faithful attendee; he sits on the front row and listens so intently!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdksI4n0U6I/AAAAAAAAA34/jiV9NOllvoE/s1600-h/P1020862.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdksI4n0U6I/AAAAAAAAA34/jiV9NOllvoE/s400/P1020862.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321332965864919970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The reason that I went into all of that is because I spent this afternoon preparing because Tuesday I am going to be teaching the missionary story at the school. Up until now I've only been going, watching and then trying to mingle with the kids. Let me tell ya, telling a detailed story in a second language is going to be much more complicated than I thought! As I read over the story again today I wrote down all of the words I wasn't familiar with. Only about 50 of them...and I only have 1 day left to learn these new words. Oh sheesh. Help. Call Marcela. She came to my rescue and helped me come up with new ways to express what I need to without memorizing 50 new words in 24 hours! For instance, instead of trying to remember the verb for "trip" or "stumble" I'm going to say "he hit his foot and almost fell". Now I am so nervous I don't know what to do with myself but I know this is going to be so good for me. You have to start somewhere! I just hope I don't REALLY mess up because if I say something hilarious I know I won't be able to stop laughing. That's just what I do, laugh uncontrollably at my own expense. It would not be good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, the entire reason I even decided to write a post tonight is this...I watched a video that changed my life. Really. I am a different person, for the good. I looked on Youtube and it is on there in several segments! You really need to make time to watch it. It will leave you in awe, giving you a better concept on who God is, who we are and the amazing things He has created. I feel like watching it again tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the link to the first video (the rest are on youtube as well...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gn2dPZDMOWA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will be very blessed, I know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: none; background: transparent;"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-2038211711445461035?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/2038211711445461035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=2038211711445461035' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/2038211711445461035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/2038211711445461035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/04/short-posti-think.html' title='A short post....I think.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdksI2fNj0I/AAAAAAAAA3w/jEvSlm_qlis/s72-c/Imagem+689.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-5660056445177796712</id><published>2009-04-01T19:15:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T20:16:09.856-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Busyness...but the good kind. </title><content type='html'>Finally, a new post so that people won't see that goofy picture of a bird on my head! I used to have the habit of being so careful not to do anything that may be slightly embarrassing (post teen years, of course) yet now I am finding freedom in just being, yeah &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;being&lt;/span&gt;...even if that means a bit of uninhibited silliness (BTW, now that I'm approaching 30 I do find satisfaction in using the word "silly" and am not embarrassed about this fact.) I'm not sure if my perception is changing or if it's really true but I feel like I have fewer embarrassing moments now that I'm not so worried about being labeled as an odd individual. All of that to say...posting a potentially embarrassing picture of a green parrot on my head is the new and improved me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you one of those people who tends to always say "I'm so busy" even when you aren't THAT busy. I am. I mean, it is such a convenient excuse and even if life isn't chaotic it always feels kind of busy. I am confessing that because I want you to know that I am not kidding when I say life has been busy. Like, really, really busy. Almost whirlwind kind of busy. BUT, a really good kind of busy. Here are a few things going on in the Kroeker home....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 19th Mom and Dad Kroeker arrived from the U.S.! We've been looking forward to this time for a while. Karis has been soaking in the attention and we've enjoyed spending time visiting around the dinner table, playing cards, etc (hey, playing cards is a part of the busyness, ok?) We've enjoyed the past few weeks, busyness and all. Here is a picture of the munchkin with her &lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CJonathan%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;"  &gt;vovô&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CJonathan%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;vovó. This picture cracks me up...if you don't know why I'll explain underneath....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP3RQyXSlI/AAAAAAAAA2g/PXEGux8juUU/s1600-h/IMG_3961.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP3RQyXSlI/AAAAAAAAA2g/PXEGux8juUU/s400/IMG_3961.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319867460790733394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Do you see that oh-so-attractive man that Karis is pointing to in the picture?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, this one....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP3Q_0luaI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/svgvyUEPIzo/s1600-h/IMG_0679.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP3Q_0luaI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/svgvyUEPIzo/s400/IMG_0679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319867456236665250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Karis was helping make some picture books for the Indians she suddenly exclaimed "hey look, I found a picture of &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;vovô&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully dad Kroeker found it as humerous as we did (and let us take a picture...or two...or ten)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP3RFHlnYI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/lAZJYnQDs-A/s1600-h/IMG_0681.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP3RFHlnYI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/lAZJYnQDs-A/s400/IMG_0681.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319867457658527106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Having in-laws around also means having built in babysitters. The best babysitters. There is nothing like taking off for the day knowing your child is being kept entertained more than when you yourself are home with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is one way we took advantage of the situation (and yes, this counts as part of the busyness too)....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to a water park for the day! Just the two of us. And not just any park but the world's largest naturally heated water park. All of the water is heated underground and then comes out into these natural springs where they channel it into the water park. In fact the water park doesn't even have to use chemicals in the water (at least I don't think they do) because the water is constantly being emptied and refilled. I think they said the entire wave pool has completely new water every three hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, here's a picture from the front of the park....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP5V1XpWhI/AAAAAAAAA2o/8szvm73fr6k/s1600-h/IMG_3958.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP5V1XpWhI/AAAAAAAAA2o/8szvm73fr6k/s400/IMG_3958.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319869738353515026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really is wild to be driving along a two lane road with nothing in sight then to come upon this water park. It isn't well marked either so you have to know where you're going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We had the lady at the check-out counter take a picture of us at the end of the day. The waterpark is right behind us...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP5WFPzdVI/AAAAAAAAA2w/c2AsmxTLkdw/s1600-h/IMG_3960.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP5WFPzdVI/AAAAAAAAA2w/c2AsmxTLkdw/s400/IMG_3960.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319869742615590226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides having built in babysitters we are also blessed that my in-laws like to stay busy and they like to serve. This meant Jonathan and dad getting lots of projects done and this meant mom totally organizing over half of my house! Really, I'm not kidding. It is so nice. I get to go to Portuguese class and then come home only to see one more project done that has been in the "to do" list for quite some time (or shall we say, 6 months, since that's when we moved in?) Not only that but she does a better job than me as I'm a spastic organizer. I don't always organize for the sake of organizing but more to make sure everything is behind cabinets so that I don't have to look at it. It doesn't matter that 50 pieces of tupperware come falling out when I need to retrieve one. Why? Because I know what lies ahead. I simply throw my arm across the cabinet to hold the 50 pieces of plastic in place as I retrieve what I need and then ever so quickly slam the door again. There, I don't have to see the mess and the task at hand is accomplished. My mother in law on the other hand organizes to relax. No really, she does. It took me several years to finally believe her and now that I do I am reaping great benefits. Take a peek....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP5Wd1W0RI/AAAAAAAAA3A/WUy72Myx930/s1600-h/IMG_3966.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP5Wd1W0RI/AAAAAAAAA3A/WUy72Myx930/s400/IMG_3966.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319869749215547666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is just one of many cabinets. Well, she organized all of the cabinets in my dining room, kitchen and living room. I get a peaceful feeling when I open the doors now that I don't have that surge of adreneline required to keep things behind closed doors while trying to retrieve an item. Aaaaaaaah....I am truly thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really gotta bring this to an end. Here are a few random pictures...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Chief (also known as Chiefton or Chief-a-doo) has grown a bit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP5WH_j7PI/AAAAAAAAA24/U6D-EgyOj7w/s1600-h/IMG_3965.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP5WH_j7PI/AAAAAAAAA24/U6D-EgyOj7w/s400/IMG_3965.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319869743352769778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP7tLzCSoI/AAAAAAAAA3I/E1zdUuBAhig/s1600-h/IMG_3962.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP7tLzCSoI/AAAAAAAAA3I/E1zdUuBAhig/s400/IMG_3962.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319872338534222466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Karis "cooking" the morning away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP7tJzrJbI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/CDg_mJZJH8k/s1600-h/IMG_0683.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP7tJzrJbI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/CDg_mJZJH8k/s400/IMG_0683.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319872338000029106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(look at the next few pictures...that white cabinet behind Karis is the tupperare cabinet....can you tell what's going on?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP7tQo_pKI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/gm63siHtlhQ/s1600-h/IMG_0684.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP7tQo_pKI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/gm63siHtlhQ/s400/IMG_0684.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319872339834283170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP7tWw8jWI/AAAAAAAAA3g/w9444PkJ1y4/s1600-h/IMG_0685.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP7tWw8jWI/AAAAAAAAA3g/w9444PkJ1y4/s400/IMG_0685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319872341478247778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had my hubby home for 3 weeks now but will be losing him again in about 8 hours. This next trip will only be a few weeks long so even though we'll really miss him we can handle that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-5660056445177796712?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/5660056445177796712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=5660056445177796712' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/5660056445177796712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/5660056445177796712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/04/busynessbut-good-kind.html' title='Busyness...but the good kind. '/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SdP3RQyXSlI/AAAAAAAAA2g/PXEGux8juUU/s72-c/IMG_3961.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-6686672521764090109</id><published>2009-03-04T15:17:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T16:04:13.014-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just us girlies (with puppies and pigs and a bird)</title><content type='html'>I never thought I would, but I've been wearing a green hair piece. It's kinda shiny, too but I don't plan on wearing it past Friday! Besides the fact that it's green I don't think this is the kind of hair piece many of you would be willing to wear (and I can hear a hearty amen from my sister, Stacey...especially after she takes a look at the picture below!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet the "Little Guy"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7Wu4_FsfI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QkCY05BSHE8/s1600-h/Picture1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 371px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7Wu4_FsfI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QkCY05BSHE8/s400/Picture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309417111775719922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He (probably a she) is still a baby that I'm caring for as one of my friends is traveling. What is SO fun about Little Guy is that He (probably a she) doesn't have clipped wings so he (she) can fly around in the trees and then come home for some tlc. And he (she) always comes home! That is what I was trying to tell myself when LG spent the night out and did NOT return to me (yesterday was my first day watching him...her) After I tried not to panic that my dear friend would come home to no bird I left for class a little bit early this morning, dedicated to finding him (her...I had already been out early this morning searching all of the nearby trees.) When I walked out our door I heard the oh-so-familiar squawk and when I called him he came right to me! So now LG will not be roaming free past 4pm while the other parrots are out and about until his mommy comes home on Friday. For the time being we're enjoying having him around!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Litte Guy is so tame...he (she) loves to roll on his (her) back so that you can scratch his (her) belly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7WvA18RRI/AAAAAAAAA1g/WdH9tPe26kc/s1600-h/IMG_0657.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7WvA18RRI/AAAAAAAAA1g/WdH9tPe26kc/s400/IMG_0657.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309417113884837138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She (finally! is what I'm sure half of you are thinking) will do just about anything to get your attention when she is wanting it. Karis isn't too thrilled that she likes crackers so much. As soon as she spots one in Karis' hand she is gone and either on Karis' head trying to climb down or trying desperately to land on the now frantic child. Oh, it is pretty funny. Now when Karis hears her wings starting to flap she just closes her eyes and braces herself, imagining that she may be Little Guy's target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onto a few more house decoration projects I completed this week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when you thought there wasn't one more thing I could glue napkins onto in my house! Tada!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7Wwt-H3zI/AAAAAAAAA14/t44u0OaNEH0/s1600-h/IMG_0659.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7Wwt-H3zI/AAAAAAAAA14/t44u0OaNEH0/s400/IMG_0659.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309417143178616626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And just in case you think that I may be like any other normal human being and should begin to feel embarrassed about how much I blog about my decoupage addiction...well, I have another big picture in the works. It was going to be for Karis' room but it started to look too grown up so now I'm making it for our room (to put on that big empty wall to the side of our bed.) You'll just have to anxiously wait 'til I finish to see a picture of that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However another small project I made for our room is this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7Wv1YlaqI/AAAAAAAAA1o/BgZsIgVspcE/s1600-h/IMG_0658.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7Wv1YlaqI/AAAAAAAAA1o/BgZsIgVspcE/s400/IMG_0658.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309417127988783778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Now, I haven't really been to any craft stores in the States since I began my decoupage addiction but here almost every craft store has decoupage supplies. They have tons and tons of stuff made out of this cheap-pressed-wood-stuff that you can buy and then decorate with napkins, etc. That is what the key holder you saw above was made out of and it is what these little shadow boxes are made out of. Everything is really cheap so it's dangerous for a poor decorator like me to get too addicted (ok I'm not poor but I can't put lots of money into decorating.) Those shadow boxes in the above picture total cost around $3 each. Many would say my mom and I are very different but there is one gene she passed onto me that nobody can deny...I get a thrill when it comes to getting a good deal. A THRILL, I tell you. And that is one of the hardest things about living away from the land of garage sales (I'm so not kidding!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, onto even cuter things (in my opinion, at least). Does anybody enjoy that game "Pass the Pigs?" If so, there is a 3-year old here who could keep you happy for hours on end. Really, she loves this game. And poor mama can't take more than one game at a sitting. It's so interesting to me how much she can enjoy it and still not care who wins or loses. Perhaps it'll take a little more time for her to truly inherit her mom and dad's competitive spirit (she only has a 1 in a trillion chance of NOT inheriting it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here she is with the piggies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7YqeRnESI/AAAAAAAAA2A/pfkGAmL7tfs/s1600-h/IMG_0660.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7YqeRnESI/AAAAAAAAA2A/pfkGAmL7tfs/s400/IMG_0660.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309419234909425954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And here she is making a silly face with the piggies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7YqxBeBkI/AAAAAAAAA2I/ebx--VOZXKA/s1600-h/IMG_0662.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7YqxBeBkI/AAAAAAAAA2I/ebx--VOZXKA/s400/IMG_0662.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309419239941998146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my last post we received the news that the guys were coming out of the village a week early because they ran out of supplies. They did manage to get a lot done on the houses, which is great! However the hope that it also meant they could come home early was officially dashed on Monday. The airline wants to charge an enormous amount (almost the same price as the tickets themselves) for them to change the dates. So my husband and Karis' husband get to spend a week hanging out 'til they can return. I really wanted my hubby back! Karis' hubby is actually pretty sick so maybe it was better for him that way. He may have malaria...or dengue...or typhoid. Hopefully we'll know more tonight. Their tickets are to return the 10th, so in the meantime I'll play Pass the Pigs and glue napkins onto everything in sight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-6686672521764090109?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/6686672521764090109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=6686672521764090109' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6686672521764090109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6686672521764090109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/03/just-us-girlies-with-puppies-and-pigs.html' title='Just us girlies (with puppies and pigs and a bird)'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/Sa7Wu4_FsfI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QkCY05BSHE8/s72-c/Picture1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-3211288512629836275</id><published>2009-02-25T13:06:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T14:21:20.490-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='via'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2009'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><title type='text'>Bedroom Renovations</title><content type='html'>Before Jonathan left I already had tons of ideas of projects around the house I wanted to work on while he was away to surprise him when he returned. I literally could not wait for him to leave so that I could begin...now after completing just a few of those projects I would like for him to come home now. I'm so anxious to show him! For now I'll find some satisfaction in showing you, my bloggy audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan always tells me that I build things up way too much. I frequently say things like "that was the BEST food I ever tasted!" or "that was the most fun night ever!", etc, etc. He is a very reserved person and not one to show much emotion. If I were to get a "oh wow, that's nice hon" out of him that means he is VERY, VERY thrilled. I'm shooting for a "wow. Oh wow. How very nice, hon" when he returns and sees the changes in our home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say that so that you won't feel too shocked when I tell you that our bedroom has been &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;transformed&lt;/span&gt;! Absolutely and totally transformed (no exaggeration.) Of course it will not make it onto any home interior design blogs and perhaps once you see pictures it may trigger feelings of disappointment from those of you who are especially gifted in interior design. BUT...if there were a blog titled "horrendous, absolutely awful bedrooms turned decent" mine would for sure qualify for some attention! The problem is that I didn't take any before pictures. Perhaps that has &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;something &lt;/span&gt;to do with a bit impatience on my part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I didn't take before pictures I'll start with Karis' bedroom that I just painted a few days ago. Take a look at these walls before the paint job...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zR4KJgI/AAAAAAAAAz4/1voVS8oHoY0/s1600-h/IMG_0628.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zR4KJgI/AAAAAAAAAz4/1voVS8oHoY0/s400/IMG_0628.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306784956340119042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zUhKYFI/AAAAAAAAA0A/md-A0vdRFYE/s1600-h/IMG_0629.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zUhKYFI/AAAAAAAAA0A/md-A0vdRFYE/s400/IMG_0629.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306784957048971346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I decided to go with a boring color for her room since she has so much color in her bedding and the curtains. I felt like it would be too busy if I were to paint it yellow or pink. So even though the color was only a tad different from the previous color it is absolutely amazing how much better it feels to walk past her room and look inside. It is the BEST transformation ever :-) Check it out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zh_TReI/AAAAAAAAA0I/CFH26MJydf8/s1600-h/IMG_0636.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zh_TReI/AAAAAAAAA0I/CFH26MJydf8/s400/IMG_0636.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306784960665044450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zjAhZaI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/C1mrKjfzL4I/s1600-h/IMG_0637.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zjAhZaI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/C1mrKjfzL4I/s400/IMG_0637.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306784960938599842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have also discovered that it is a good thing to keep beds away from walls, when it comes to children. Yucky, yucky marks are left on the wall which bring much frustration into my life. She is taking her first nap on her bed that is not scooted up against the wall. So far so good...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV_ofmuntI/AAAAAAAAA04/n_Rdoewi9do/s1600-h/IMG_0646.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV_ofmuntI/AAAAAAAAA04/n_Rdoewi9do/s400/IMG_0646.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306788069581430482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my room. The absolutely transformed and BEST bedroom ever. Scroll back up and take a look of the yucky walls in the before pictures of Karis' room. Now picture walls just as horrendous but throw in a computer desk covered in stuff, a file cabinet and piles and piles of folded winter clothes everywhere that hadn't found a home yet. Even then you probably still couldn't fathom how un-bedroom-like our bedroom was before this incredible transformation (no exaggeration) took place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, here goes...take a look at the horrendous bedroom turned decent....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV-sfh7KhI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/yDJcpYIa1UE/s1600-h/IMG_0640.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV-sfh7KhI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/yDJcpYIa1UE/s400/IMG_0640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306787038769130002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I can't tell you how many "oooohs" and "aaahs" I would for sure be getting if I had taken some before pictures! Oh well, what's done is done. I'll have to show you all of the small things I did to spruce things up a bit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay wait, before I show more pictures. Do you see that fancy black room divider thingy? Can you guess who made that? Yours truly. I found a big piece of plywood in the shed and hauled it down to a woodworker in town. I paid him $5 to cut it up into three pieces and then painted it black. I even went to the hardware store and bought henges, then scoured Jonathan's tool shed for screws the appropriate size. Do you sense a hint of pride as I tell you this? I am the most unhandy woman in the world, I think. Having such a handy man as a husband makes me very lazy in that area. So the fact that I accomplished as much is really quite amazing! And even though the divider isn't the prettiest thing in the world it sure beats the computer desk hiding behind it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next. Not only did I make a room divider without any (ok, not much) help but I hung up curtains. That may sound like a rediculous thing to brag about but when the walls are cement hanging up curtain rods involved drilling into that cement! Yes, I thought you'd be proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV-sntmpcI/AAAAAAAAA0g/5nHKw9ux9z4/s1600-h/IMG_0642.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV-sntmpcI/AAAAAAAAA0g/5nHKw9ux9z4/s400/IMG_0642.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306787040965600706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And one thing that I think really adds to the feel of the room is the lamps. Lamps are not cheap here but I managed to find some very atrocious looking ones at a misc store down the road. Bright orange lamp shades and gold bases! Thankfully if a lamp is atrocious looking they won't charge you an arm and a leg for it (they were around $9 each.) I brought them home, painted the bases black and put on shades that I had brought down from my new favorite store Ikea. Oh how I love Ikea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV-sq6SxdI/AAAAAAAAA0o/CeByRzZtQKA/s1600-h/IMG_0643.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV-sq6SxdI/AAAAAAAAA0o/CeByRzZtQKA/s400/IMG_0643.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306787041824130514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I'm at it let me just brag a bit more on how cheap it was to make this transformation. Besides the cost of paint I think I spent around $25 total for everything as I already had most of it. The bedding set I brought down from the States in December and that was a goodwill special ($12). The trunk sitting in front of the bed was almost tossed because it is rather old and yucky but after a fresh coat of black paint it was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;transformed.&lt;/span&gt; Transformed, I tell you! The curtains were another goodwill special ($5.50) that were brought down in December. Hmmm...what else? Oh, I did buy that vase, rocks and fake orchid above the bed (is it a P.O.O.P.I.E? Please feel free to be honest, I'm trying to decide myself.) The two pictures are decopauged canvasses that I thought were orchids when I bought the fake orchid. Oops...they &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; the same color. I would like to do a bigger canvas with the same flowers on the right side wall but need to find more napkins. Yes, every room in my house, I'm afraid, will have napkins glued to something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need your help now. Here is a picture of the other side of the room. I need some ideas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV-syE9H-I/AAAAAAAAA0w/yW3gA_9hx_g/s1600-h/IMG_0644.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV-syE9H-I/AAAAAAAAA0w/yW3gA_9hx_g/s400/IMG_0644.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306787043747897314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I think I'll find a place to put the file cabinet. But what about the desk? I could get rid of it but it is handy and we don't really have another place to put it. Then that would leave the dresser all by itself (which looks much better in this picture than it does in real life!) What can I do with this side of the room? More room dividers? :-) I really do want some suggestions from you decorating pros! Suggestions that require little to no money to implement, that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving onto other things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look how big my birdy friends are getting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaWGvMAKGuI/AAAAAAAAA1A/9IO-Vo5hLZ0/s1600-h/IMG_0645.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaWGvMAKGuI/AAAAAAAAA1A/9IO-Vo5hLZ0/s400/IMG_0645.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306795881159858914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;They're growing up so fast (sniff sniff). I don't know how but they do manage to stay in the nest! And now when I peak out the window or walk in front to see them they see me and try to hide by hunching down in the nest (sorry birdies, there's no hiding in that puny nest!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll finish things off with some girly-girl pictures...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaWGvkQZx7I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/R97dzg3C2vI/s1600-h/IMG_0634.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaWGvkQZx7I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/R97dzg3C2vI/s400/IMG_0634.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306795887670446002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaWGvcc_SPI/AAAAAAAAA1I/Z2MuNEhQbNE/s1600-h/IMG_0631.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaWGvcc_SPI/AAAAAAAAA1I/Z2MuNEhQbNE/s400/IMG_0631.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306795885575751922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides a house I also acquired another huge blessing when we moved here! Her name is Karis Joy. Yeah, now I have two Karis Joy's in my life! She's the mommy of those other two little girls. Now that Karis Joy #2 is a part of my life I don't know how I lived without her! She is such a blessing. Even though our personalities are quite different in some ways we see eye-to-eye on almost everything. And since her husband is on this trip with Jonathan we've been spending TONS of time together since our men left. Karis (my Karis) gets along pretty well with her little girls too. Well, they do act like sisters I guess...fighting off and on everytime they get together. ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm heading off to eat some popcorn before I begin another project. Please send in any decorating suggestions you may have!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-3211288512629836275?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/3211288512629836275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=3211288512629836275' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/3211288512629836275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/3211288512629836275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/02/bedroom-renovations.html' title='Bedroom Renovations'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaV8zR4KJgI/AAAAAAAAAz4/1voVS8oHoY0/s72-c/IMG_0628.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-5735917283082898005</id><published>2009-02-22T08:02:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T08:49:29.324-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='via'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2009'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Of Chicken Feet and Grandmas...</title><content type='html'>Only 15 days, 22 hours, 45 minutes and 36 seconds (more or less) 'til Jonathan returns. But really, who's counting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're doing ok without our man/dad but sure do look forward to reuniting in 15 days, 22 hours, 43 minutes and 15 seconds. Karis especially has shown more than ever how much she misses having him around! She asked to watch a YouTube video this morning that Jonathan showed her a few weeks ago. After it was over she burst into tears and came running to me. I thought she was hurt or something but when I picked her up she said "I want my daddy to come home!" It really broke my heart. But he will be thrilled to hear that he was missed so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of this particular YouTube video. Have any of you heard of Nick Vujicic? He is a European (not exactly sure where he's from) who was born without any arms or legs. The video Karis loves to watch of him on YouTube is a short 2 1/2 minute segment of Nick speaking to younger-than-me people. He really is an amazing guy who has been used by the Lord in incredible ways! I think you could watch the video by clicking &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4f_UNMNONA&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; If not then go to www.youtube.com and search his name...there are some other cool videos of him on there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm mentioning this because in this video he shows what he calls his "chicken drum stick" (a deformed foot that he was born with) Karis calls it his "chicken foot" and has honestly become quite obsessed with Nick and his chicken foot. Usually at least once a day she'll ask something like "remember that guy who has no arms and no legs?" "yep" is usually my reply and by the time I am finishing that short response she is ready with "but he has a chicken foot!" All of her doodles that she does on her doodle pad are no longer drawings of hippos, roaches and beetles but they are of the man who has no arms and no legs but has a chicken foot. It's amazing how similar all of the drawings are (please don't tell Nick that if you ever meet him.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the activities that is occupying my time is Portuguese class twice a week. You'd probably assume that after living in a country 5 years one would be fluent in that language. There are lots and lots of reasons and excuses I could give as to why I am not, however it would make for a boring post. So I won't. I still have quite a ways to go but these classes are definitely helping! I come home feeling challenged and realizing how much I have to learn in this language. And thankfully it isn't a difficult language. Fairly easy one, to be completely honest. One thing that does hold me back is my perfectionist attitude as well as my overwhelming fear to make one of the mistakes that other missionaries have made. Like, going to the gas station to buy a bottle of propane but instead of asking for a gas bottle ask the attendant for a big kiss. Or going to the post office and asking for breasts instead of stamps. I haven't had any incredibly embarrassing moments like these but you will know the day that I do! I think blogging about it will be therapeutic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the reason I'm mentioning all of this is because on Wednesday mornings (during my class) Karis gets to go spend the morning with her adopted Grandma Tammy. Without either of her grandmas living on the same continent it makes me feel good that she has this relationship with Tammy. Karis surely doesn't mind either as she gets JUST as spoiled with Tammy as she does with her other 2 grandmas! This week she came home with a bag of potato chips AND a green coconut (which mommy got to enjoy with her!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She looks like she has spent the morning suffering, doesn't she?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaFDNblduRI/AAAAAAAAAzg/h42_2hXqhnE/s1600-h/IMG_0621.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaFDNblduRI/AAAAAAAAAzg/h42_2hXqhnE/s400/IMG_0621.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305595734041409810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaFDNn4rF7I/AAAAAAAAAzo/0_i1ZpoBCfA/s1600-h/IMG_0617.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaFDNn4rF7I/AAAAAAAAAzo/0_i1ZpoBCfA/s400/IMG_0617.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305595737343203250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The only bad thing about this whole situation is Karis would now, I'm sure, prefer to go live with Tammy. For several days after a Wednesday she asks as I put her into bed at night "can we go to Aunt Tammy's in the morning?" (instead of calling everybody Mr. and Mrs. here it is "Uncle" and "Aunt".) Which is a huge blessing to me to know that she has a godly adult investing in her life and that she is enjoying it. And Tammy makes me feel like she enjoys it too...as a mom I have to tell you that this brings me much joy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have some new friends resting right outside our window these days. It's very interesting because this same pair of birds already had one attempt at having babies. I don't know if she had more than one egg but only one hatched. Unfortunately the nest was poorly made and when the first storm came I think the baby got chilled from the rain and died the same day (I really wanted to save the birdy but my dear husband who didn't want to see his wife commit her life to a bird for several weeks accused me of being baby bird protective services.) I let nature take it's course and had one of the toughest days of my life. Ok, forgetting the past here is a picture of the newest clutch from the same parents (who started building a new nest the following day).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaFDOGyBGkI/AAAAAAAAAzw/AwK3KSkEMcg/s1600-h/IMG_0627.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaFDOGyBGkI/AAAAAAAAAzw/AwK3KSkEMcg/s400/IMG_0627.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305595745636784706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy getting to watch these little guys grow (there are two of them) but they are quickly filling up the new poorly made nest and come close to falling out when the parents come to feed them. Rest assured, I will follow through with my baby bird protective services instincts should one or both of them fall out of the nest. But I am praying...PRAYING that doesn't happen as I do not want to spend the next 2 weeks of my life feeding them every thirty minutes. Been there, done that. Unfortunately it happened to be the 2 days before my mom arrived in Brazil for Karis' birth. Not a good time to be saving baby birds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blues Clues is almost over so I'm guessing I should bring this post to an end. It took me longer than expected to write it but the good news is that now I only have 15 days, 21 hours, 52 minutes and 11 seconds to go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-5735917283082898005?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/5735917283082898005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=5735917283082898005' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/5735917283082898005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/5735917283082898005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/02/of-chicken-feet-and-grandmas.html' title='Of Chicken Feet and Grandmas...'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SaFDNblduRI/AAAAAAAAAzg/h42_2hXqhnE/s72-c/IMG_0621.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-1752649475908702309</id><published>2009-02-15T14:18:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T18:50:41.883-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2009'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>...and then there were two.</title><content type='html'>5 days down and only 25 more to go. Yep, 25 more days of temporary widowhood. We are actually quite accustomed to spending 2-3 three weeks apart from each other as our lives have consisted of many trips since we moved to Brazil. However this time just knowing that it would be 4 made me a little less excited about the whole idea. I mean, usually the first week is just fine. I enjoy being lazy in the kitchen and living a bit more selfishly in general. However by week two the whole thing of not being in a consistent schedule (directly related to not cooking, I'm sure) and crawling into bed alone gets old. Although I'm not a basket case by then I really do start to look forward to having him home again. By week three I could definitely be labeled as an almost-basket-case. Come. Home. Now. Babe. And the fourth week? Well, let's not go there for right now. I still have 2 1/2 weeks 'til I know for sure what kind of a ticking time bomb I will be after living without my man for 30 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I'll enjoy feeling sorry for myself over the next several weeks (which will be reflected in my posts, I'm sure) I am really, really excited for this opportunity that Jonathan has. He just got to spend 5 days of traveling by plane and boat to arrive in the village (they arrived yesterday). He gets to spend the next 3-3 1/2 weeks working in the heat of the day and building houses for two new missionary families moving into a village. Oh sure they'll have swarms of bugs to deal with and who-knows-what to eat during the day. But when it's all said and done he gets to crawl into a jungle hammock at night and sleep. Yes, these are the kind of things that make my man tick. He will come home physically exhausted but totally rejuvenated in spirit! And I will be so very jealous of the 25 lbs he lost after eating grubs and rice for a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And before he left I knew I had one of two choices. I could either 1, do lots of baking and partying while he's gone to help fill the void of his absence and gain a lb or two (or 15). Or 2 I could torture myself even more by trying to eat healthy, exercise more and lose a bit of weight to surprise him (and not feel too discouraged when he comes home with a sleeker bod). I thought I was totally committed to option #2 but up until today I've been teetering between the two. Time to get serious. Tomorrow will be the day. Promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weeks before Jonathan left (and up to the day he left) it was a construction zone around here. We really wanted to get our wall built before he traveled which also entailed getting a car gate put into our right side wall and a walk-through gate installed into our left side wall. Our main concern was safety since without the one wall out front and the short wall to the left anybody from the highway in front of us could look straight into our dining room/kitchen at night and see whatever it is I'm doing. I realize that probably sounds strange to those of you who live in the States but down here one can feel quite vulnerable without a wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is a picture of our right side wall &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;before&lt;/span&gt; construction (if you're standing on our porch it is the wall to the right.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiQObQ9cI/AAAAAAAAAyY/DtlQ4v89CT0/s1600-h/IMG_3691.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiQObQ9cI/AAAAAAAAAyY/DtlQ4v89CT0/s400/IMG_3691.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303096592118642114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And here is how it progressed 5 days into it. Well, it was supposed to have been 5 days but the guys Jonathan hired still hadn't shown up. He grabbed the nearest helper and started working himself:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiQQI3i1I/AAAAAAAAAyg/WiCd1VAv2ao/s1600-h/IMG_3694.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiQQI3i1I/AAAAAAAAAyg/WiCd1VAv2ao/s400/IMG_3694.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303096592578349906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;That big tree you saw in the first picture had to be taken down. That in itself is a looooong story. Just know that Jonathan did grab a different helper for that specific project regardless of how this next picture looks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiQ3yldrI/AAAAAAAAAyo/iGecdrVdYbk/s1600-h/IMG_3705.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiQ3yldrI/AAAAAAAAAyo/iGecdrVdYbk/s400/IMG_3705.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303096603222308530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the after picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhjjmS8n5I/AAAAAAAAAy4/Q6f4uBBuRAc/s1600-h/IMG_0613.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhjjmS8n5I/AAAAAAAAAy4/Q6f4uBBuRAc/s400/IMG_0613.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303098024455348114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is the new wall out front (and we don't own two trucks! Jonathan is taking care of two extra vehicles for friends who are temporarily in the States!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhjjym9i4I/AAAAAAAAAzA/ypHro2qHh6k/s1600-h/IMG_0612.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhjjym9i4I/AAAAAAAAAzA/ypHro2qHh6k/s400/IMG_0612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303098027760520066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our wall to the left &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiP_nMJXI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/RO3oWM13Cok/s1600-h/IMG_3614.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiP_nMJXI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/RO3oWM13Cok/s400/IMG_3614.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303096588142126450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhji5khb2I/AAAAAAAAAyw/lOOehKXfPXk/s1600-h/IMG_0611.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhji5khb2I/AAAAAAAAAyw/lOOehKXfPXk/s400/IMG_0611.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303098012449468258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Besides security, another reason we needed to get these walls up is because we got a puppy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhnH1TMR-I/AAAAAAAAAzQ/LffGQnoYZ-M/s1600-h/IMG_3668.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhnH1TMR-I/AAAAAAAAAzQ/LffGQnoYZ-M/s400/IMG_3668.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303101945493080034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you have followed our lives for the past 5 years then no doubt your reaction is "WHAT?!!! Another dog??!!!" Yes, another dog. I guess I need to go ahead and admit that we go through dogs like we do hot cakes (is a hot cake a pancake? perhaps I shouldn't use expressions I don't understand.) Hum, anyway. Yeah, another dog. Let's just say our previous not-so-mentally-stable dog did us a huge favor by running away. Bless her little heart. We had to get up a wall quick so that we could keep this new dog in (we both felt we needed an outside dog for security, especially while Jonathan is traveling) and also to keep the previous not-so-mentally-stable dog out, should she decide to return. I still can't stop thinking that perhaps she'll show up in a few weeks, jump the new high wall (she jumped the old) and have 12 puppies on my front porch. If this happens then you can be assured you will see the owner of that mentally unstable dog become unstable herself.  Ok, let's stop right now and officially introduce Chief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhnIeGti-I/AAAAAAAAAzY/1VJ_I9WEULg/s1600-h/IMG_0615.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhnIeGti-I/AAAAAAAAAzY/1VJ_I9WEULg/s400/IMG_0615.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303101956446587874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We have had him for about three weeks now (he has quadrupled in size) and from all that I can tell he's going to be a good dog (but I'm sure Jonathan would discredit anything I say about this subject since I'm the one who drug the mentally unstable dog all the way over here last summer.) The worst part of having a puppy right now is the constant screams coming from a three year old who doesn't want her ankles used as chew toys. I think I'm pretty sympathetic when that happens because, oh my goodness, those teeth are sharp. I sure wish Cesar Millan could come live with us for the next 6 months. That would make my life a lot easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished my decoupage! I don't really know how I feel about it. When I finished it I was pretty pleased but was hoping that after having it framed then the little things about it that bothered me wouldn't be too noticeable. Well, they still are. Oh well, gluing napkins on a canvas is more of an art than one might think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhnHuMlaWI/AAAAAAAAAzI/irO4ClYnBhQ/s1600-h/IMG_0610.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhnHuMlaWI/AAAAAAAAAzI/irO4ClYnBhQ/s400/IMG_0610.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303101943586318690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have tons of projects I'm working on while the man of the house is away. Right now I'm really focusing on our bedroom. It is already feeling so much more inviting! It has always been the most neglected room in the house. I'll probably have some pictures to post in the next few days. I'm just hoping that Jonathan doesn't decide to get onto a computer and catch up on my blog on his return trip home! I really want to surprise him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-1752649475908702309?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/1752649475908702309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=1752649475908702309' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/1752649475908702309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/1752649475908702309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/02/and-then-there-were-two.html' title='...and then there were two.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SZhiQObQ9cI/AAAAAAAAAyY/DtlQ4v89CT0/s72-c/IMG_3691.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-6094612326387253917</id><published>2009-01-31T12:36:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T13:55:16.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying goodbye to Shaun...for now.</title><content type='html'>A childhood friend of mine passed away last weekend. He had cystic fibrosis so it wasn't an incredible shock yet I guess I never thought that it would happen before either of us turned 30. We haven't kept in touch much for several years (I guess that is what happens when you marry and move to a different continent!) but he was so much a part of my childhood, teenage years and after. I even lived with Shaun and his mom Mary for a summer after I completed a year at Bryan college! So many memories, I can't even describe what I'm feeling now. It's like the "good ol' days" are officially over. Really so much of what I'm feeling is all about me because the truth is, Shaun is sitting at the feet of our Savior! His pain has ended (and his 28 years contained a lot of suffering) and if there was a chance he could feel sadness at this moment it would be pity for us wishing that he were still here! What silly, silly people we are is what I'm guessing he would say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missing his funeral is absolutely killing me (it was Thursday). I've never wanted to be back home so badly! Which kind of surprises me. I guess I'd really like to grieve with others who knew Shaun and had him as a part of their life as well. To be with people who know what he contributed to this world and what earth is missing now that he's gone. Perhaps that's normal, I'm not sure. Truth is, I've been spared so much suffering that I've never had to deal with a death of someone close to me before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly I didn't want to write a sad post about how miserable I'm feeling knowing that I'll have to live the rest of my earthly life without a good friend! But more about some of the great memories that I do have of Shaun (and there are a lot of them!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of my childhood pictures are stored away in TN so the only picture I have of us is one that my mom sent me last week (I think she included it on a slideshow or something at the funeral....lucky me:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This was taken right before our "Nerd Night" at youth group (which was led by my parents). Shaun is the one pictured on the far right. I realize that this is a pretty scary picture of myself but for lack of a different option...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SYSEbUCqeLI/AAAAAAAAAyI/pZh8YIvBk2k/s1600-h/Nerd+night+picture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 336px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SYSEbUCqeLI/AAAAAAAAAyI/pZh8YIvBk2k/s400/Nerd+night+picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297504666465761458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And really that picture symbolizes so much of who Shaun was. I haven't met many people who seemed so unconcered by what other people thought of him and he definitely wasn't afraid to be himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of my memories are of times when Shaun was in the hospital and I was able to go visit for a morning or afternoon. Of course I was only allowed to go when he wasn't in a lot of pain so growing up I know I didn't comprehend how much he suffered. To be completely honest I was sometimes jealous of the amount of attention he received (perhaps being the oldest of 9 had something to do with that:-) and even prayed a time or two for some illness that would stick me in the hospital. Then Shaun could come see &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;, I could introduce &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;HIM&lt;/span&gt; to the nurses and we could play whatever Nintendo game &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; wanted to play in the rec room (on the pediatrics floor.) As I grew older it became more apparent to me how much he and Mary experienced on a daily basis. Now that I'm a mom I truly can't comprehend what it would be like to watch my child be in almost constant pain and not be able to do much to relieve that pain. Nobody could have been a better mom than Mary was to him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, one of my memories that took place in a hospital was when Shaun had this great idea to have some fun with the medical tape (the clear stuff.) We cut tiny strips and then made wrinkles in our faces and stuck the tape over them. We did this to our entire face creating wrinkles and indentions. I cannot tell you how hilarious it looked! I really wish I had a picture of it. We decided to walk through the pediatric ward showing off our new faces to the hospital staff but not before blowing up rubber gloves  (not tying them off) and then stretching them over the end of our shoes (so that it looked like we had webbed feet.) I think I laughed too hard to notice if the nurses laughed or not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one time we went to the rec room, probably to play Nintendo. Well, I sat down in a big plastic chair. You know, the kind that dip down in the middle? Unfortunately some child had decided to relieve himself/herself in that exact chair (with 15 or more in the room) so I stood up with somebody else's pee running down my legs. I know, it was so gross. And even though I didn't think it was too funny at the time seeing Shaun laugh at me as we walked back to his room made it a memory I'll never forget. He was kind enough to lend me a pair of his jean shorts though, so perhaps that made up for his uncontrolled laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post would end up being way too long if I wrote down half of the memories I have of Shaun so I'll limit to just a few more from when we were older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I lived with Shaun and Mary for a summer he spent a lot of time showing me different things related to technology. Lots of stuff on the computer that I totally didn't understand (he was amazing with computers!) He was the first one to show me what a "DVD" was...I was so impressed. I don't remember how long he spent explaining and showing me on the tv how it worked with the menu, etc but I do remember asking tons of a questions! I was in awe. I think he enjoyed teaching somebody as naive as myself:-) And a lot of the times we hung out took place late at night when he couldn't sleep. Now that I'm older and have experienced mild sleep deprivation I can only now &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;begin&lt;/span&gt; to understand what he experienced night after night! And on many of those nights we spent a lot of time watching the QVC shopping network. I had always wondered who watched those things. Shaun got a kick out of them and now I think I'm doomed to enjoy them myself for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I'll never forget is how much of a big brother (big brother by a whole 3 months) he was towards me the summer I lived with them. A guy that I had been head over heals for unknowlingly did something hurtful to me and Shaun was ready to go beat him up! I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;loved &lt;/span&gt;that. I had always wanted an older brother that would protect me and there was a need within me that was filled by Shaun's protectiveness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After so many years and memories it is such a blessing to know that I'll get to join Shaun in eternity one day. And it'll be a Shaun that I didn't know since he will be free (is free) to live without physical pain. Now I really do have something to be jealous of!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/233/E0FCBF59F3B1A6CBCCE4D9050D039C30.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-6094612326387253917?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/6094612326387253917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=6094612326387253917' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6094612326387253917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/6094612326387253917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/01/saying-goodbye-to-shaunfor-now.html' title='Saying goodbye to Shaun...for now.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SYSEbUCqeLI/AAAAAAAAAyI/pZh8YIvBk2k/s72-c/Nerd+night+picture.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558965005009136792.post-233354088964738080</id><published>2009-01-23T10:51:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T15:05:46.228-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Speaking the truth, as a matter of habit.</title><content type='html'>After getting married and having a home to care for I immediately felt motivated and challenged to create a home environment that was inviting for people (specifically my family) as well as a place where the Holy Spirit would reside. Seven (and a half) years later I almost feel overwhelmed at the amount I have to learn in this area...I better eat really healthy and live to be 150 if I'm ever going to attain as much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the Scripture portions that has been specifically challenging/encouraging to me is in Deuteronomy 9 (you can read it right &lt;a href="http://bibleresources.bible.com/passagesearchresults.php?passage1=Deuteronomy+6&amp;amp;version=49"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;). What an enormous challenge as a wife and a mom! I could get pretty discouraged if I thought of all the ways I haven't done so well. But as I grow and learn I'm getting better about not focusing on my failures, which is probably one of my biggest downfalls (dwelling on my failure and then throwing an enormous pity party!) So this week the Lord has been challenging me in one way to fulfill this portion of Scripture in our home and that is to speak truths in our home out loud throughout the day. Whether it be a short verse or just a statement of truth where the principle can be found in the Bible. For instance, this week I've been making an effort to every morning when Karis gets up and crawls in my lap to say "This is the day the Lord has made, I WILL rejoice and be glad in it!" It is pretty amazing to me how much this helps me focus my heart for the day's activities. Another verse that comes to my mind almost on a daily basis is Psalm 19:14 (I think) where David (I think) prays "may the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer." It came to mind just a little while ago so even though usually I would spend a few seconds meditating on it silently I looked at Karis and quoted it for her. I'm so excited about how much the Holy Spirit could work in our lives if I continue to make a special effort to do this! and what a challenge to spend more time meditating and memorizing Scripture. And I'm sure my child is the first to go through this (that's supposed to be funny. Like haha funny.) but she is in a stage where she seems to want to push the limits all day long. Every limit. Honestly, I've had to deal with my attitude quite a bit as I feel like I spend most of the day saying "no, don't do that" (and almost every time it is for something different!) So now I'm thinking that even if I spend a good portion of the day telling her what NOT to do perhaps I could balance out that nagging voice by speaking words of encouragement and truth. Truth. I love truth and how I can live my life in truth, serving a God of truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now onto some random photos and happenings around the Kroeker home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Christmas we had a week long conference with our mission. It was a great week catching up with other missionaries we don't see very often and having some free time to play. We had so much fun in fact, I didn't really take any pictures. One of the guys here did and will give us a cd of them but for now I'll just skip over that week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had Cristy, Erik (whom we cal Evo, pronounced "eee-voe") and Benjamin stay with us for a few more days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Happy Family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXncs6qQLII/AAAAAAAAAxI/QKHmJJEVrfE/s1600-h/IMG_3643.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXncs6qQLII/AAAAAAAAAxI/QKHmJJEVrfE/s400/IMG_3643.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294505501169560706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was picture #84 that I took of the three of them. I finally had the idea to have Evo kiss Cristy for the picture since he closes his eyes EVERY TIME the camera flashes. This way his eyes were  supposed to be closed! Ingenius of me, huh? And if you don't believe me when I say he closes his eyes every time here are a few examples...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXnq8kQ8q4I/AAAAAAAAAxw/Wxudl-_-6C4/s1600-h/evo+eyes+closed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 365px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXnq8kQ8q4I/AAAAAAAAAxw/Wxudl-_-6C4/s400/evo+eyes+closed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294521163198540674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of these pictures were taken shortly before the first one you saw. The bottom right corner picture was another failed idea when I told him "ok, don't look directly at the camera so you don't see the flash." Didn't work. I don't think Evo reads my blog and I am really hoping he doesn't read this post if he does! (don't tell him, Cristy!) Actually, I don't think he would mind. I give him a hard time about it because I find it HILARIOUS. He's a great brother in law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, more pictures...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The happy cousins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXncsSkdiKI/AAAAAAAAAxA/lAcyKHTlUYM/s1600-h/IMG_3620.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXncsSkdiKI/AAAAAAAAAxA/lAcyKHTlUYM/s400/IMG_3620.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294505490407852194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Us girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXnctL-l7UI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/jbHqh8rg_ro/s1600-h/IMG_3646.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXnctL-l7UI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/jbHqh8rg_ro/s400/IMG_3646.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294505505818275138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a random picture Jonathan took earlier this week. Isn't it amazing?! I think this is one of my alltime favorite pictures. That's a bee looking up out of the flower!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXndgSsRvCI/AAAAAAAAAxY/uI9UZtVZan4/s1600-h/IMG_3661.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/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXndgSsRvCI/AAAAAAAAAxY/uI9UZtVZan4/s400/IMG_3661.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294506383793830946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My flower girl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXndg6bKOuI/AAAAAAAAAxo/-lwK9fcIWOU/s1600-h/IMG_3660.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXndg6bKOuI/AAAAAAAAAxo/-lwK9fcIWOU/s400/IMG_3660.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294506394459454178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXnslGRRzmI/AAAAAAAAAx4/pdR_AkCzX4I/s1600-h/IMG_3638.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXnslGRRzmI/AAAAAAAAAx4/pdR_AkCzX4I/s400/IMG_3638.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294522959033126498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In a few weeks Jonathan will be going on a trip and will be gone for a month! We have a lot we have to get done before he goes. Our house is gated in with a house that was owned by the same couple we bought ours from. The other house just sold so before Jonathan leaves we have to put in a big garage type door in our wall facing the street (we're currently using the one connected to the front house), build a wall separating the two houses, build higher up on our wall connected to the school property and then put in a walk-through door on that side. I really, really hope we get it all done before he goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is a picture of the wall that we'll add onto and then put in a walk-through door. The door will go behind Karis where all the bricks are exposed (trying to save as many of the flowers as possible).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXndgrknmiI/AAAAAAAAAxg/6CmsQc2cyhE/s1600-h/IMG_3656.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXndgrknmiI/AAAAAAAAAxg/6CmsQc2cyhE/s400/IMG_3656.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294506390472596002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Karis doesn't always want to but when she prays before a meal we really enjoy it. Every prayer is different but usually turns into a conversation between her and the Lord (her prayers are usually quite long!) I'm sure it brings Him just as much joy as it does us! Here is one of her shorter ones I caught on camera from last week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(for some reason the video won't upload so I'm going to go ahead and publish this post and try again later! Come back to see the prayer:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace and peace to all of you this weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5558965005009136792-233354088964738080?l=daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/feeds/233354088964738080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5558965005009136792&amp;postID=233354088964738080' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/233354088964738080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558965005009136792/posts/default/233354088964738080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daughter-of-a-polish-man.blogspot.com/2009/01/speaking-truth-as-matter-of-habit.html' title='Speaking the truth, as a matter of habit.'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11045112193698720033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='15975799831208745405'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-tzkcoFnvaQ/SXncs6qQLII/AAAAAAAAAxI/QKHmJJEVrfE/s72-c/IMG_3643.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry></feed>