tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73615522024-03-23T10:49:03.741-07:00My World Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15389197066825543512noreply@blogger.comBlogger1769125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-49053351499086998182022-01-02T19:54:00.002-08:002022-01-02T20:05:09.851-08:00What's New in 2022<p>Well, first off, we won't have Betty White. I saw something posted on Facebook that showed her picture and said, "Live your life in such a way that if you die at 99, it's still too soon." Isn't that true? </p><p>This time of year there are lots, and lots of resolutions. I'm not one for making resolutions, and I've probably said that with each New Year's blog post that I write. However, I do like to reflect back, and think of things to come. I like to plan. As a teacher, I live by each semester. I plan 5 or so months at a time. Each break I try to take some time and reflect. But, there is something special about doing this at the end of the year. </p><p>New Year's is special to me. We used to have a tradition of opening up the back door to let out the current year, and then open the front door to let in the new one. Although, I haven't done it in a couple of years. I like to bring in the new year with people I love, doing something special. Sometimes we pray, sometimes we celebrate with shouts, sometimes we play games, sometimes there are fireworks. Four years ago Dave proposed to me. This year, we went to his sister's house, ate some yummy food, and played cards. I was home and asleep around 11:30.....It's been a long time since I've konked out before midnight. But, there was a good reason...We got up early and headed to the Bay Area to enjoy New Year's Day with some fun adventures. I'll save you the details from all of that because that's not really what I wanted to focus on for this post. Plus, many of you saw it all on Facebook anyway! </p><p>Instead, I want to share the list I made for 2022. </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>What plans do I have with Dave? </li><li>What are my professional plans? </li><li>What do I want to accomplish within my church? </li><li>What do I want to accomplish with my relationship with God? </li><li>Will we be traveling this year? </li><li>What's my word for the year? </li></ul><p></p><p>I'm not going to share all of my answers, but there are a few I want to talk about. </p><p>Let's start with God. Isn't that were it all starts? (Well, I guess it depends on what you believe.) Our pastor asked us this week, "What does God want me to decree, declare, and confess?" What does God want me to say, as well as NOT say? In alignment with that, God wants us to have a controlled tongue, which means to hold negative comments, right? Well, it also means in stepping up and opening my mouth to say something when needed. So, what does God not want me to say, but also, what does He want me TO say? There have been lots of times when I should have said something, but didn't. This is something I struggle with often. I tell myself the verse from 2 Timothy all the time (1:7), "God did not give us a spirit of timidity." Speak up, Tiffiny! So, I want to speak up more, and speak more life into others. We live and die by our words. Our words hold so much power, both good and bad. So, let me use my words for good. </p><p>Along the same lines...Where do I need to be professionally? Let me preface all of this by saying that I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE my job and my students. However, I have been trying to get a full-time, permanent teaching job for 7 years. SEVEN. Hey, it's not 10 or 20, but still 7 is a long time. Yes, I work, but each semester is up in the air. Sometimes I don't have classes to teach. I don't have benefits. For some classes I have to drive up to and hour away to teach. I don't get paid when we have holidays or vacation. If I don't work, I don't get paid. People, I need consistency. I have 2 Master Degrees, I should be making more money than I am. So, that has had me questioning my career for a while now. I apply to all sorts of jobs, but keep hearing no. (For someone who doesn't say no often, I sure do hear it a lot.) I've gone outside of my skill set, I've tried for positions that I think I would do well at, I apply to every single English position that's available, but still hear a no. I've asked God to direct me, guide me, show me which way to go. Well, after a while I have to stop sitting and waiting, and take some steps. How can God direct me if I don't go in any sort of direction? So, I'm taking a step and I'm going back to school. Yes, I will attempt to get a THIRD Master's Degree. I guess I like to collect degrees like I collect books. Although, I have used both degrees I've earned, so there's that. I see where education is going, and it's so difficult in finding full-time work at the college level, so I think I need to prepare and give myself another option. What's the other option? Library Science. It fits right? I feel weird going back to school. I thought if I would at this point in my life it would be to get my PhD in something. But you know, sometimes we have to do what we have to do. Am I too old? No, we're never too old to do something, right? That's what I tell my students all the time. I also tell them that motivation and determination are two great qualities to have in life. I have both. </p><p>So, wish me well in 2022. I pray I don't lose my ever loving mind with work, family, friends, and now going back to school. People do this all the time, so I can too. Right? </p><p>Who knows what this year will truly bring, but I'm believing for good things. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsaH79lnpn8O16GCV4-sgwm7BstOFgnAe1jVT0H18EsdRstdsjbPREuuVQ5QGvC9jpCZFH7QfJ9pT5VCg1vgp4UKN8Evb38LbNKDkh9kpx9u1n3J402_yRsWhnSkh5nXvRCfUgATk3Y1f1wumkrDPDNt4oA_imPSpJwfmEssama9ViaQfNaw=s1145" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1145" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsaH79lnpn8O16GCV4-sgwm7BstOFgnAe1jVT0H18EsdRstdsjbPREuuVQ5QGvC9jpCZFH7QfJ9pT5VCg1vgp4UKN8Evb38LbNKDkh9kpx9u1n3J402_yRsWhnSkh5nXvRCfUgATk3Y1f1wumkrDPDNt4oA_imPSpJwfmEssama9ViaQfNaw=s320" width="314" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-81801312668720790782021-10-02T15:25:00.002-07:002021-10-02T15:25:32.389-07:00Happy 19th!<p> 19 years ago I gave birth to this darling daughter of mine. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXv-yVqXDBe-6pVib0prdZvvbXyb4gZolI0v55Bxvl1SsrFvz_DUHGx3hGXa9wjvIIn_G0dIgFEWn8LlMgkm7ZJE-QgX7zBnEQtliuL3BrR9uzDy1WQ1eruNSesJNiUIiMBMxl/s2048/IMG_4961.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><br /></div>I remember her birth well. I went into the doctor for a check up. But, before I went, I walked the mall and had a cinnamon roll from Cinnabon. (Some sort of aversion must have happened during the birth because I didn't have one for a good 17-18 years after that.) During my doctor's appointment I told her that I was "leaking" all the time. Turns out that was my water, and it had been broken for a good handful of days. I thought the only way your water would break was a gush like the breaking of a damn, but I guess that's only because that's how they portray it in the movies. Reality is that you can have a slow leak, and that's what I had. So the doctor sent me over to labor and delivery. I was shocked. I went into the hospital thinking I was only going to have a check up. I mean, I wasn't even due for another 4 days! Not to mention, I felt fine. I wasn't having contractions, I wasn't in pain. I was expecting to go home and continue on with my day. I wasn't ready to have a baby! <p></p><p>Yeah, well, that's not how it works. </p><p>This was before the days of cell phones, so once I was admitted to the hospital, I called my then-husband and told him what was going on. At one point I must have called my friend. Before evening, I was set up, with Pitocin ready to have a baby. My grandma and mom showed up. I never called my grandma, but she said she "just knew" I was in labor. My friend came in with a burger, which I believe was from McDonald's, and I pretty much kicked her out of the room, in the nicest way possible. (The smell was too much. Also, if you know me, asking someone to leave a room is like climbing Everest, so you know it had to be bad for me to open my mouth.) NYPD Blue was on the TV, and I was sad I was missing it. Also, that seals in my mind that it was a Tuesday, so I gave birth on a Wednesday. I also remember that Seren's dad went home at one point to take a nap. I was given an epidural, but it failed, and that was a bummer. Sometime around 7 in the morning, the next day, Miss Serensita was born. I labored for only 14 hours, which is pretty good for a first time birth. </p><p>After the birth Seren's dad brought me a slice of Boston Cream Pie because I've always loved sweets, and what better way to celebrate than with cake, right? I mean, it was a BIRTH day. </p><p>Every birthday since then Seren has been with me. </p><p>This year is different. She went off to San Francisco to be with a friend. </p><p>I see my other friends on Facebook sending their kids off to college, or a move to a new place. Seren is still at home, but this year she's been traveling a lot. Last week she came home from a 2 week visit to Boston. She's traveled alone to LA a few times. She's gone up to Yosemite. She's enjoying being a young adult. But, just like my friends with kids the same age, I'm experiencing something new. This is the first birthday where she's chosen something on her own. This is the first year I've not given her a party, or celebrated with dinner out. (Well, I did bring home dinner for her last night.) She's growing up and being independent. </p><p>That's my job as a parent, right? To help my littles grow into independent adults. We want our children to be successful in whatever way that looks like to them, right? </p><p>My daughter changed me in so many ways. She made me a parent, yes, but she gave me courage. I've worked hard to be who I am because I've wanted the best for her. I've done things in my life just for her. I've tried my best, even if she disagrees (as some daughters do). She's helped me to be a better person. </p><p>Some of my favorite things about Seren: She's quiet. She's okay with who she is. She's trying new things, and exploring. She takes pretty awesome pictures. </p><p>I'm so very thankful for Seren. I believe in her. I hope she knows that and I hope she believes in herself just as much.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCdoOXttsJPVfCE-IaawzL5Yxlca-DrmZqmB6CTO5fL30L1-xrvXeUtaLbAr50Npe-zuz025GYs5KuVKAX0-89O3zpJ5ce5OMJE_J5khTYBVvRztuVeYwDpB0hcg4FMCQa1IP/s2048/63C50955-12FB-4859-BA6C-EBB8926A10E4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCdoOXttsJPVfCE-IaawzL5Yxlca-DrmZqmB6CTO5fL30L1-xrvXeUtaLbAr50Npe-zuz025GYs5KuVKAX0-89O3zpJ5ce5OMJE_J5khTYBVvRztuVeYwDpB0hcg4FMCQa1IP/s320/63C50955-12FB-4859-BA6C-EBB8926A10E4.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMELkceduNkiYzaoJGB4aCLXnNhc_cYQjQjgBiOjSaC1k-QfathC4NbCyct5IUrFlsu5TOELC8IIRlyXGxNIZsY3nMIp1uql586VTpV8bCY_8VQS5BvUENVzWJTZLYxEWnO1C/s1600/8A51132B-6B13-49F1-9798-81269FB1DB07.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIPYr4l9UiFvYQqhe1uyCj-vMeSwtlMCI-2kGc3UtzR_E0FZWDih0y8bvjCHnpCPitm0Re9yPJ9PuSv0uev25VGc_850xwpq5rPv3BCH0TRAMGw54n-NF3S4KQdCoCk57h6PS/s2048/C1EE1AA3-BFDE-4845-9130-469BB4B5422C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIPYr4l9UiFvYQqhe1uyCj-vMeSwtlMCI-2kGc3UtzR_E0FZWDih0y8bvjCHnpCPitm0Re9yPJ9PuSv0uev25VGc_850xwpq5rPv3BCH0TRAMGw54n-NF3S4KQdCoCk57h6PS/s320/C1EE1AA3-BFDE-4845-9130-469BB4B5422C.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCSjxRSzyIYMiPBIIxN9SHkPrizWwpJW22CxP86DXNDuQJb5URpKSc3XAEQ3pEATqzdNtIGQtQSgejEmeQM5sTGQPX5dxeFD5HLRQjipZSFDez3Cj8h5Uha1fwNLJRkeoFgXa/s1280/D5F6EE2A-E2CA-4C21-BD78-D8EC6CA6CB0C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCSjxRSzyIYMiPBIIxN9SHkPrizWwpJW22CxP86DXNDuQJb5URpKSc3XAEQ3pEATqzdNtIGQtQSgejEmeQM5sTGQPX5dxeFD5HLRQjipZSFDez3Cj8h5Uha1fwNLJRkeoFgXa/s320/D5F6EE2A-E2CA-4C21-BD78-D8EC6CA6CB0C.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Happy 19th Birthday Seren! </p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-14648236650421801872021-07-18T20:14:00.003-07:002021-07-18T20:31:41.597-07:00This is 43<p>Yesterday was my birthday. Yay for me making it another year! The day before was my father-in-law's funeral, and it was a very long day. I woke up on Saturday (my birthday) early, spending the morning with an emotional hangover. I was thinking of the new life my mother-in-law was beginning. The new life my husband was going to begin. The "new normal" for all of the family. </p><p>Reflecting. That's what I've been doing lately. </p><p>Later in the day we heard that our Pastor, and friend, had a heart attack. It was much more serious than originally thought, but he thankfully made it through surgery. He's recovering now, but it was scary. I was thinking of what it would be like without him. Some of the same thoughts I've been having for my mother-in-law, for my grandma when my grandfather passed, for my friend who has lost her daughter, all came to mind. </p><p>Life and death are on different sides of the same coin. </p><p>There is beauty in new life. Cuteness, preciousness, hope, and love. </p><p>There is also beauty in the passing of a life. I've witnessed it. People have rallied around my husband and his family. They have brought meals. They have given hugs. They have called and sent cards. They have shared God's love. They have shown up in ways that matter. That's where the beauty lies. </p><p>My friend said that there is joy in sadness. This is true. We can celebrate and have some sadness inside. So, this is what happened, and is continuing to happen, for my birthday. I told my husband we didn't have to celebrate my birthday this year. But, my husband (and friends) disagreed. They all made me feel special yesterday. It started the night before, when I came home to this surprise on my front yard. </p> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78glKWj6r4dg2CYfpHQoySJW0xH0qeA9da_vT53R1jx76jR-6P72iwsuJIkVY3yE62Ok-V07JNU_b0YF7X1uAAThFe_qCd7PsCA2IxCvP0f-_qXs27ETXJy5DBi-sscbcPm2K/s2048/598AADFF-9C79-46F3-91A6-3C4442075509.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78glKWj6r4dg2CYfpHQoySJW0xH0qeA9da_vT53R1jx76jR-6P72iwsuJIkVY3yE62Ok-V07JNU_b0YF7X1uAAThFe_qCd7PsCA2IxCvP0f-_qXs27ETXJy5DBi-sscbcPm2K/s320/598AADFF-9C79-46F3-91A6-3C4442075509.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvC1XKo9x44ptqPdGOz-2e30SRKF4gbEQrjnph53rpdOBrO9V6fJFjDrf3EGTrjeKVR03T6IjE4MlSvZHzbv9jaD0Yrs3jQfs-L_t8DFrctY1Tl2rBdpv4I5loWeRKXgwocxqb/s2048/3C1ACE57-1C14-4723-B814-8D7A08BDBBCE.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvC1XKo9x44ptqPdGOz-2e30SRKF4gbEQrjnph53rpdOBrO9V6fJFjDrf3EGTrjeKVR03T6IjE4MlSvZHzbv9jaD0Yrs3jQfs-L_t8DFrctY1Tl2rBdpv4I5loWeRKXgwocxqb/s320/3C1ACE57-1C14-4723-B814-8D7A08BDBBCE.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then in the morning.... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKzJu1NOgfXI8spjcJ1vAK3i2mP2DoP2voXIqheSctKLNJWq_wy8CCC3uTnIs772Yzn2S0hu1KURWca7DgJIX4qzcMIW4WhrQrPXh25Z8LPtQri85tO10is_AWofucOa3OoP8/s2048/32948CC1-A2AF-4829-A606-EF460502F1C3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKzJu1NOgfXI8spjcJ1vAK3i2mP2DoP2voXIqheSctKLNJWq_wy8CCC3uTnIs772Yzn2S0hu1KURWca7DgJIX4qzcMIW4WhrQrPXh25Z8LPtQri85tO10is_AWofucOa3OoP8/s320/32948CC1-A2AF-4829-A606-EF460502F1C3.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yeah, that seems about right, doesn't it? Just like life. 😆</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Even in the midst of their grief, my in-laws all celebrated me at lunch. (I don't have a picture of that, but I promise it happened.) There was laughter, good food, fire, and a Happy Birthday song in Japanese. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And the gifts...Let's look at some of them because, well, I want to. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My son knows I like to cook, so he found this cookbook for me. Here's hoping I don't screw up any of the recipes because I know Chef Ramsay will show up in my kitchen and call me a donkey. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_M2K5Qe_joq9JYlvVOOL6PsJeym9jSXYNck7j_IJfteKlXvYGSrgnfvW4hfxZPRNocgyoN-qetlhmjOLsFaNEc4j5ABO7yjkctBl3K3YxD3WhxQlbKlCHLtoHh5k5aH93_6Q7/s2048/2D2572A1-9FD1-4C80-9B1F-DD906E9A707E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_M2K5Qe_joq9JYlvVOOL6PsJeym9jSXYNck7j_IJfteKlXvYGSrgnfvW4hfxZPRNocgyoN-qetlhmjOLsFaNEc4j5ABO7yjkctBl3K3YxD3WhxQlbKlCHLtoHh5k5aH93_6Q7/s320/2D2572A1-9FD1-4C80-9B1F-DD906E9A707E.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div>One of my best friends came over early and gave me these goodies. She knows I love sweets, pink, and all things full of cuteness. (And guess what? I did love it!) <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdCmpcZ4hVNgQAOLCi681xHnMrBJQdqXILbmNnJbnMIhIxUZ1L-DfpLAOSHR2JmEw1TyPmIUPWZBIK6AYoEDAYEGDQ6r_UeGk0GdqSVxtZrzrr89FJ0gIJeyFMl9jqRdm_VlC/s2048/83D640F0-97E6-466A-8DB8-5E2889E5E325.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdCmpcZ4hVNgQAOLCi681xHnMrBJQdqXILbmNnJbnMIhIxUZ1L-DfpLAOSHR2JmEw1TyPmIUPWZBIK6AYoEDAYEGDQ6r_UeGk0GdqSVxtZrzrr89FJ0gIJeyFMl9jqRdm_VlC/s320/83D640F0-97E6-466A-8DB8-5E2889E5E325.jpeg" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xoxgwSpSCJF7XP25zL3M8i0zCYhMC41lGghMgPflpVGw29kzE5snLjeZCI5wGTArDMRREcqMSHSq_TtPI6yiQEG0OmI4Uvndw7mlLB4TPxz8fSvN5V__oqdxBNfXMhGNAsI5/s2048/B5AA5645-8849-4BF6-B646-8B9B531B270F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xoxgwSpSCJF7XP25zL3M8i0zCYhMC41lGghMgPflpVGw29kzE5snLjeZCI5wGTArDMRREcqMSHSq_TtPI6yiQEG0OmI4Uvndw7mlLB4TPxz8fSvN5V__oqdxBNfXMhGNAsI5/s320/B5AA5645-8849-4BF6-B646-8B9B531B270F.jpeg" /></a></div></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A couple of my long time friends and I met for dinner. It was nice to just be, eat, and talk. It's been a long few weeks, and being around my people was good for the soul. (We missed you Megan!) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDG-jbbsQ1Jl_ILNhvh-3GsKQWxdUOihWkVtjKt5VBi2Vu_VMUM1RXrNXbRbuNc91vxJm8JN-IgCsJxE6r1fIhPcgHxKNHACdudm1AbBEGmSEWki7gYuTnLWoVnteYEsYPPPZ6/s2048/C557507B-4D73-4FA1-916A-D13B62592C26.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDG-jbbsQ1Jl_ILNhvh-3GsKQWxdUOihWkVtjKt5VBi2Vu_VMUM1RXrNXbRbuNc91vxJm8JN-IgCsJxE6r1fIhPcgHxKNHACdudm1AbBEGmSEWki7gYuTnLWoVnteYEsYPPPZ6/s320/C557507B-4D73-4FA1-916A-D13B62592C26.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNfY2vY6QTqIns95I84bZn6H7LuG5Hu_B1PfDZmww0CVSUtlR6F7p3clKNt1O58Q5D5p-5su87dJ5Q1m8bL0W66cpADxgGXgF7_E8GLadRruCgDLfDu22WxgZ7l_74rHOH0rV/s2048/8023F7E0-94D3-4319-80B3-0D68BB71C7E4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNfY2vY6QTqIns95I84bZn6H7LuG5Hu_B1PfDZmww0CVSUtlR6F7p3clKNt1O58Q5D5p-5su87dJ5Q1m8bL0W66cpADxgGXgF7_E8GLadRruCgDLfDu22WxgZ7l_74rHOH0rV/s320/8023F7E0-94D3-4319-80B3-0D68BB71C7E4.jpeg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZ0W7ySSNH1eXM2j3YmSqmOzCF03xYzv7TX7JCK4eRBIDGDjxfT7YVSdzoGC1IYg0cBlfn1SGRgpvOoUM-2NBYHhmrw7nnngCXdTt4KdKAT9Gy6Dw_I_LPzLHUaY39VBoPEDY/s2048/AB957A05-B87D-4773-856E-AEE0144AFD48.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZ0W7ySSNH1eXM2j3YmSqmOzCF03xYzv7TX7JCK4eRBIDGDjxfT7YVSdzoGC1IYg0cBlfn1SGRgpvOoUM-2NBYHhmrw7nnngCXdTt4KdKAT9Gy6Dw_I_LPzLHUaY39VBoPEDY/s320/AB957A05-B87D-4773-856E-AEE0144AFD48.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div>Then my thoughtful husband gave me this delicate necklace. He knows I like simple, and he knows I don't really wear a whole lot of jewelry, so this necklace is just perfect. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg29AtnMr02_I9eXaaJyTUTFYTAkwTRJSMKIkm5i8xYoRDcgT5I_K7eXbHiNuaXij3FWz1NTY0oaZCSZ_vIzGsWW9pXbrVnl88HYT3PhYHuHC0Ps6m_OwwBzVKAiS3a60AiuXU8/s2048/DD54A5D2-8965-4794-8B95-5298C93E5780.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg29AtnMr02_I9eXaaJyTUTFYTAkwTRJSMKIkm5i8xYoRDcgT5I_K7eXbHiNuaXij3FWz1NTY0oaZCSZ_vIzGsWW9pXbrVnl88HYT3PhYHuHC0Ps6m_OwwBzVKAiS3a60AiuXU8/s320/DD54A5D2-8965-4794-8B95-5298C93E5780.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My daughter also gave me a perfect gift-a calendar (among a few other things). Yes, I love calendars. I love to write on them, I love to touch them, I love to look at them and see what's ahead. I'm sure it all has to do with the fact that I'm a planner. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ix1TkXFhcLNF1X1gcmjRS28o-g99p7UkAFQtUDuhPCB55YfKzJk8NsvOqU1pquyMJlv0PtGBma_NBytxa91j8ODF8vEu28zcm9z8PzGZceHp9MTGKNV3Cqy34hT4rfVA6F3i/s2048/EC678DA2-6AC2-4F52-98A3-134EF7F66EE8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ix1TkXFhcLNF1X1gcmjRS28o-g99p7UkAFQtUDuhPCB55YfKzJk8NsvOqU1pquyMJlv0PtGBma_NBytxa91j8ODF8vEu28zcm9z8PzGZceHp9MTGKNV3Cqy34hT4rfVA6F3i/s320/EC678DA2-6AC2-4F52-98A3-134EF7F66EE8.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You wait all year for your special day (whatever the day may be), then it comes and goes lickety split. Guess this is why I'm extending my celebrations. Tomorrow I'll be going to the beach, which was a surprise gift. Then later in the week I'll be camping with another friend. Now that I'm thinking about it, my celebration started at the end of last month when my sister treated me to a brunch and a show. Also, last week another friend of mine took me to lunch. This coming Saturday my husband will be having a dinner for me where many of my friends, most of whom have already celebrated me, will celebrate some more. I mean, I can't say no to a dinner party because that gives us all the more reason to eat cake, right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am often amazed at how blessed I am, and how much people are willing to do things for me. My aunt once said to me, "I wish you would see yourself the way others see you." This month I have been well loved. I've been to three funerals already this year, and many others in the last handful of years. I often think, "People should have funerals while they're still alive so they can hear all the nice things people say about them." I think we should tell those we love how we feel about them while they're still alive. In thinking this it has occurred to me that I <i>do</i> know how others feel about me. I <i>do</i> know that I am loved. This means I have some pretty awesome people around me. My friends are thoughtful and supportive. My husband loves me more than I probably know. My kids want to be around me, which says a lot. But most importantly, people <i>show up</i> for me, and I am so very thankful for these people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u>This Is 43</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am a little wiser, more reflective, smarter, educated, thoughtful. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A little more confident than I was in my 20's. I'm now less likely to put up with someone's crap. Ain't nobody got time for that! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm willing to learn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm willing to grow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the other hand, I'm now holding on to my truths, values, and beliefs. I do have questions, but I'm also unwavering. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm still healing from my past hurts. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't always love my body, but I try to be kind to it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm seeing what others see. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I feel more mature. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm truly happy. But I'm also cranky and grouchy at times, and I'm okay with that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm noticing the signs of "getting older." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When my friends and I get together we've started to talk about how our bodies are changing. (You know, our boobs go down to our knees. Don't yours?) Our conversations about our kids have entered a new chapter as well. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm in a "career," not just a "job." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have a savings. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I travel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I listen more. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I speak more.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love to cook for people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm learning not to apologize for everything. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My relationships are stronger, more meaningful. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My relationship with God is deeper. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm learning constantly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm thankful each and every day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-tRlkA9ijfnuqUjE-paXRm36MFFpk5VSbJge-psHDYklcj9PalJy1xp2LKO-TGoPhWTg-L_0EFnoK6pZtyglGjJzTlot2_ZIGTC60qoRc5qnXU1LwHTYzSUWgSjttJ1inp1F/s4032/D8DFAE89-AA58-41E1-843A-38077481EBB5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-tRlkA9ijfnuqUjE-paXRm36MFFpk5VSbJge-psHDYklcj9PalJy1xp2LKO-TGoPhWTg-L_0EFnoK6pZtyglGjJzTlot2_ZIGTC60qoRc5qnXU1LwHTYzSUWgSjttJ1inp1F/s320/D8DFAE89-AA58-41E1-843A-38077481EBB5.jpeg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbVV3hdPYQvZSPwezG6TIL5ByTI-3-yQSx1Eht1srAYldRogk6gMx4EVaPTzTh9wkl6DdDeGVZh5pamPbGJqczlcucGdZUEB1NQF71mpZfRbfZsm3on4XSRDqEn8XhhXchR7Z/s2048/9693E424-68BE-4F03-8640-C3B0FAC3A009.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbVV3hdPYQvZSPwezG6TIL5ByTI-3-yQSx1Eht1srAYldRogk6gMx4EVaPTzTh9wkl6DdDeGVZh5pamPbGJqczlcucGdZUEB1NQF71mpZfRbfZsm3on4XSRDqEn8XhhXchR7Z/s320/9693E424-68BE-4F03-8640-C3B0FAC3A009.jpeg" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Here I am, at 43. Here's to the year ahead, whatever it may bring. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEeRu4ZnfsclLy7UDF58bkPPccPIxslt6FbluibWEsy2ocYRvVXm7spmPYo4lB7flPpahxovHkCc1B8EeC1x037JT0fl9CP5qZ9I5SEuyzo_4O3XgRLR5F0r-tDBMj3QMCxqqs/s2048/D978D29C-BA1C-455D-AC77-0D0EC2432ECC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEeRu4ZnfsclLy7UDF58bkPPccPIxslt6FbluibWEsy2ocYRvVXm7spmPYo4lB7flPpahxovHkCc1B8EeC1x037JT0fl9CP5qZ9I5SEuyzo_4O3XgRLR5F0r-tDBMj3QMCxqqs/s320/D978D29C-BA1C-455D-AC77-0D0EC2432ECC.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-4802345960561121972021-05-13T17:42:00.000-07:002021-05-13T17:42:25.542-07:00My Perfect Day <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJva1CLRY_qAN9unIvkcx8Z15bIXMJAUZAshpC1Odzws57uqDkLMGDJR3a5CAiFxxihuVk3hXFeyrklyUHBwj1dGxJM0SjBZoMGgehVkoecn5jGCitko5l6Rcqz1K9hdeUAvQx/s2048/Pink+Mother%2527s+Day+Blog+Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJva1CLRY_qAN9unIvkcx8Z15bIXMJAUZAshpC1Odzws57uqDkLMGDJR3a5CAiFxxihuVk3hXFeyrklyUHBwj1dGxJM0SjBZoMGgehVkoecn5jGCitko5l6Rcqz1K9hdeUAvQx/w400-h225/Pink+Mother%2527s+Day+Blog+Banner.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I<span style="font-family: inherit;">'m part of a Facebook group called the Inside Out Challenge, led by <a href="https://www.melissaradke.com" target="_blank">Melissa Radke</a>. I don't really want to get into all the logistics of it, but if you're interested, you can search for it on Facebook. But, I will say this group is challenging its participants to change some things from the inside, which will change some stuff on the outside. There is some work going on, some work with issues I've been struggling with for a very long time. Anyway, today we were given an assignment, which is called Heartwork, NOT homework because who wants to do homework, right? Today's assignment was this:</span> <span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 600;">Write about a perfect day with your future self.</span></p><p><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, I don't mind if I do.</span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-weight: 600;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);">What would my perfect day look like? </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've had to sit and </span>think about this all day long. Would my perfect day be here, in my current home? Would it be at the beach, or in the mountains? Would my kids be there? My husband? Or would I be alone? Would I eat all the foods? What kinds of things would I do? Would I even do anything at all? I mean, this is my future self too, so how far into the future are we talking? Do I have grandkids, or great grandkids? </span></p><p><span style="color: #050505;">You know why this is hard? I don't normally give myself time to dream. I remember when my husband and I were newly dating and he would ask me things like, "Where do you see yourself next year?" Or, "What's one thing you want to accomplish?" Me: "Uhhhhhh." I didn't grow up dreaming about things. I just planned. I planned for moving away. I planned for college. I planned for what I would do as an adult. I planned on surviving, but not necessarily planning for fun, or exciting things. Vacations? Nah. Bucket list type stuff? Nope. Most of my bucket list would have consisted of things like paying PG&E or rent. I mean, let's be honest. So, my husband helped me to think beyond the ins and outs of everyday life. He helped me to dream about big fun stuff. However, I'm still not the best at it, which is why I'm struggling with this assignment (which really isn't an "assignment"). </span></p><p><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);">Soooo....Let me give it a whirl. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505;">My future self is not set in a particular time. Does it matter where I am? Not really. It can happen in the home I'm in now, or at a home on the beach or in the mountains. I do know that I will NOT be in the desert. Not today Satan! My future self is happy and confident in all the things of life. My future self is at peace with wherever she is. Content. Filled with joy. I haven't decided if my day would be with all my favorite people, or spent alone. Probably spent alone. (Sorry to my friends and family.) I'd sit and watch the sunrise, sitting in the stillness and peace only the morning could bring. I would be surrounded by beautiful flowers that smelled oh so sweet. I would later eat at one of my favorite restaurants (in whatever city I happen to be in), and take along a book. I would enjoy the best dessert I could find. I'm sure it would involve a cupcake, or a fancy french dessert. Oooh, oooh, oooh-maybe it would consist of all the fancy treats I've never had before! Yes! An afternoon of a dessert tasting! I would just sit and enjoy doing nothing. Talking with God. Listening to music, or even the birds chirping. I would anticipate the beauty of a sunset, taking in the glory of the colors in the sky. Oh, and I can't forget my game show marathon. I'm sure I could watch back to back episodes of Match Game, Let's Make a Deal, and Family Feud. I guess I'll watch those after watching the sunset. <span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);">Because, #priorities. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505;">This isn't a "what if I were dying tomorrow" kind of day. No, that would be different. Then I would want to spend all the time with all the people I love. Instead, this is a day where I would enjoy just being. I wouldn't be cooking for anyone. I wouldn't have to clean up or do dishes. I wouldn't sweep or scrub a toilet. Don't get me wrong. I love cooking, I love being with people, I love talking. But, sometimes I just love being with me, and I don't get those days very often. Is that selfish of me to say? Maybe. But those kinds of days are the kind that refresh me. (And I don't even know if I can remember having one of these kind of days.) Don't you ever need days like that? </span></p><p><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);">Let me ask you....What's your perfect day look like? </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, .SFNSText-Regular, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-size: 15px; font-weight: 600;"><br /></span></span></p>Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-82135374170591008442021-03-18T20:55:00.002-07:002021-03-18T20:55:40.379-07:00I'm A Foodie <p>One of my favorite authors, Laurie Notaro, writes in her book <i>The Potty Mouth at the Table</i>, about how she hates Foodies. I have to laugh every time I read her essay. She comments on various foodie words such as amuse-bouche, mouthfeel, two-ways, sous-vide, and so on. But, my favorite section of this essay is when she comments on the actual word "foodie."</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">Foodie: "If you have ever used the word as a self-identifier in a sentence, have a T-shirt with it printed on it, or wrote it down without a smirk on your face or squirming in your chair, I'm sure you outsold everyone else in band during candy season. And guess what? We all eat food. We all like it. We all enjoy "the experience"; some of us just have more interesting things to brag about. It's like breathing: it's everybody's game, but you don't see "Breathies" writing blogs about the exclusive oxygen someone flew in from France, or recounting how they inhaled some air that lichen can live in. Get a hobby. Develop a skill that takes more talent than just chewing and swallowing. Because you are really irritating. And we all hate you." (Taken from <i>The Potty Mouth at the Table</i>, by Laurie Notaro, pgs 155-163.) </p></blockquote><p>This is me. I am a "Foodie." (But I am also a "Breathie." 😆) </p><p>I enjoy my meals. I enjoy good food, and tolerate the bad food. When it comes to cooking, I love to cook for others, but I want it to be perfect. I think I've watched way too many cooking shows. When I'm seasoning things I have some famous judge in my head scolding or praising me. When I'm cooking meat on the stove, I think, "How would Gordon Ramsay do it?" When I'm looking in my cupboard or fridge I pretend I'm on Chopped, and I try to get creative. Usually my meals are average. I won't be on Worst Cooks in America, but I also won't be on Top Chef. I've told my friends there needs to be a Mediocre Cook of America show. I'd apply for that. </p><p>And that's just the cooking shows. Don't even get me started on the baking shows. One of my guilty pleasures is eating some sort of dessert and watching The Great British Baking Show, or any baking championship on Food Network. </p><p>That's why this post makes me so happy. </p><p>Earlier this week my husband and I attended a secret supper dinner, put on by <a href="http://www.fresnosundergroundsuppers.com" target="_blank">Fresno's Underground Suppers</a>. This is where we are given a theme, but the location and menu are a secret. My husband and I have gone to two previous dinners, but it had been a couple of years ago. So, when things opened back up, and they were doing dinners again, I jumped on the chance to treat ourselves. </p><p>The evening started out beautifully, but I think we all got a little chilly once the sun went down. (We were outside.) We had dinner at a local botanical garden, which went along with the botanical theme. The food was the same. They say we eat with our eyes first, and boy did we get full. The flowers made each dish pretty, and the herbs added flavor. Everything had a floral tone. </p><p>So, come along with me on a journey of our five course meal. </p><p style="text-align: center;">But first, here I am with the Hubs. 💕</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UJClRDthNiQ9BOhi1fUQm7nSEAgnIbCj7BSEvrpMhYSKQGvzBpfYqEd51YoNMmi3_bxg8kIo57g1udeo6EBH3N3jTmqew_UOx3DYySTsXsMke1_qCnC_O7ce_bWF_iCw5KLf/s2048/F0E8065D-95D8-4C0B-9A9F-4A743FC787A1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UJClRDthNiQ9BOhi1fUQm7nSEAgnIbCj7BSEvrpMhYSKQGvzBpfYqEd51YoNMmi3_bxg8kIo57g1udeo6EBH3N3jTmqew_UOx3DYySTsXsMke1_qCnC_O7ce_bWF_iCw5KLf/s320/F0E8065D-95D8-4C0B-9A9F-4A743FC787A1.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here is how the space was decorated. I love flowers so much, and I loved how this all looked. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So pretty, right??!! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYIuP_6YOQqulic5pNQUoZXt-8Bd0tynUB6iF-EUVC6brW4cweF8uFkAHTRRU6F1aZ3EGJWFAxW0opQsJtdclHLrZp94rvCcEMfEIVwTeagovPUYYDNfH12WcNct0esvlPuVv/s2048/6FAD8051-C9BA-4E98-8CFF-AC6542DDA8FB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYIuP_6YOQqulic5pNQUoZXt-8Bd0tynUB6iF-EUVC6brW4cweF8uFkAHTRRU6F1aZ3EGJWFAxW0opQsJtdclHLrZp94rvCcEMfEIVwTeagovPUYYDNfH12WcNct0esvlPuVv/s320/6FAD8051-C9BA-4E98-8CFF-AC6542DDA8FB.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDo6FL_8cd5ZgHn6Qsd0ldUNkn9YdnUcuelBMtnP0hCjHjiJcNh4EQDAJAS1yLiKobBlQ7gtM-cyECbMpOLRPIu2WAtPklGmL7nE1U1lkD_ucMxn1DC7nGNY6OwgnV117QXRr/s2048/352B3C96-BB0F-4197-8BB6-18B2870009DD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDo6FL_8cd5ZgHn6Qsd0ldUNkn9YdnUcuelBMtnP0hCjHjiJcNh4EQDAJAS1yLiKobBlQ7gtM-cyECbMpOLRPIu2WAtPklGmL7nE1U1lkD_ucMxn1DC7nGNY6OwgnV117QXRr/s320/352B3C96-BB0F-4197-8BB6-18B2870009DD.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLeQv5cuYffb-CvR2Wj_xNU_H9msgGndJGa-99c0OvQYjnYNHt60okSQuwm_GNWxe3914SNx1Gp1D9QAXCMHs8hCq3r07udy3ecEfsI2TQihoKZzSDLnA_5y0AayOBny8CtvsL/s2048/C7EE34B3-5363-4E55-907B-9FDEF5EC6A16.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLeQv5cuYffb-CvR2Wj_xNU_H9msgGndJGa-99c0OvQYjnYNHt60okSQuwm_GNWxe3914SNx1Gp1D9QAXCMHs8hCq3r07udy3ecEfsI2TQihoKZzSDLnA_5y0AayOBny8CtvsL/s320/C7EE34B3-5363-4E55-907B-9FDEF5EC6A16.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h4>Here is the menu. </h4><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyPVQaE_dg73v4NS0Do0WWw8pklrdYEBFqxyCAEw_juPdNArkd3EQkHluyxM665Tk5BozhmX4V5FgNXDLlk7k7zJeos1INek3ivxl88g3JH2QMGy2qX9Gk-y-_5MdSbfm_nw4/s2048/A32D43FC-5E7B-4055-BDE2-F8731E8894BF.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyPVQaE_dg73v4NS0Do0WWw8pklrdYEBFqxyCAEw_juPdNArkd3EQkHluyxM665Tk5BozhmX4V5FgNXDLlk7k7zJeos1INek3ivxl88g3JH2QMGy2qX9Gk-y-_5MdSbfm_nw4/s320/A32D43FC-5E7B-4055-BDE2-F8731E8894BF.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMv0664VjD-5aQb3oSBDQDy9dfwh26K6piU2KFZrwuwkHeSbwTXuAHO_ln7OgPDGU541x3r6keVhozt1fx5cJJ7WChacxeaqu7ZLu_bSfb0w4ZgGVrc9wHvcUujvWo8D79_J5f/s2048/68D945BA-CFBB-4779-9C61-4745D5781817.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMv0664VjD-5aQb3oSBDQDy9dfwh26K6piU2KFZrwuwkHeSbwTXuAHO_ln7OgPDGU541x3r6keVhozt1fx5cJJ7WChacxeaqu7ZLu_bSfb0w4ZgGVrc9wHvcUujvWo8D79_J5f/s320/68D945BA-CFBB-4779-9C61-4745D5781817.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h4>Crispy Fried Artichoke Bottoms</h4><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOk_hHbRUUMuvQxhLx4pubB_Z3PszTfz2p-zhkeKMETXraLe7WBVEddQKdsUzwhBf8goIpDnn2yG48-ttC0ecpuSHrSPFGz6wUDlcQ0wALndg-tlAd9ukPhlHrjt8i0CN8g5d/s2048/371A3CBF-6068-48F4-ADEF-AAA38F4C1849.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOk_hHbRUUMuvQxhLx4pubB_Z3PszTfz2p-zhkeKMETXraLe7WBVEddQKdsUzwhBf8goIpDnn2yG48-ttC0ecpuSHrSPFGz6wUDlcQ0wALndg-tlAd9ukPhlHrjt8i0CN8g5d/s320/371A3CBF-6068-48F4-ADEF-AAA38F4C1849.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The sauce was a lemon aioli, and it paired so well with the artichokes. It was tangy, and the artichokes were warm, and each bite was perfect. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /><h4 style="text-align: center;">Spring Blossom Salad</h4><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmYeQC9bH9-2OSUO380lNk708EuVeDXfgwkBAyFo4Rq_gNHpsKy14ceGNoEkx-TkDJhon-Pq_Y1l9UgvMcuqv3SpCxPYiQe1ku4KTsj8Stu3R2ZREJiLvNul3BD6_ZGhWVIgfv/s2048/2344C7B3-FC4E-41DA-AA5B-5C1C979127D8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmYeQC9bH9-2OSUO380lNk708EuVeDXfgwkBAyFo4Rq_gNHpsKy14ceGNoEkx-TkDJhon-Pq_Y1l9UgvMcuqv3SpCxPYiQe1ku4KTsj8Stu3R2ZREJiLvNul3BD6_ZGhWVIgfv/s320/2344C7B3-FC4E-41DA-AA5B-5C1C979127D8.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Look at the colors! Look at the flowers! I believe these were watermelon radishes, and I like them way better than regular radishes. There were also candied macadamia nuts sprinkled throughout. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h4 style="text-align: center;">Chilled Carrot and Ginger Soup</h4><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0M16jzgEo4F718ilJl7HA896ZtlVC1hoy8ATRfrVuZRvK5IwwT4CJ1FSSUf9MJj8rz_sJUOz59KzEklGqh2JOiTGiACSrpjIeQGvAvd2_b-0JtYuWRV05GXv0YttdPWvyPOpV/s2048/4ED8698F-1801-4731-A576-114F506EB7EC.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0M16jzgEo4F718ilJl7HA896ZtlVC1hoy8ATRfrVuZRvK5IwwT4CJ1FSSUf9MJj8rz_sJUOz59KzEklGqh2JOiTGiACSrpjIeQGvAvd2_b-0JtYuWRV05GXv0YttdPWvyPOpV/s320/4ED8698F-1801-4731-A576-114F506EB7EC.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Um, I'm not going to lie, this wasn't my favorite. It was cold, and it was cold outside, so I really didn't want to finish it. I also don't like carrots, so there's that. This poor soup didn't really have a chance. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">BUT, I did like the sunflower seeds on top. </div><br /><br /><h4 style="text-align: center;">Lavender Cornish Game Hen</h4><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinzMDLclc6b_Xg9EB-3YTlp0ijlBIs7WQ7_XSEdcuTPlr06v2frgZMz73F7Er9yTcwrhOoalXES63ISAdYYkAblpVs9m79Fl2liMnIM8eqyjwdCXY30UNKWdqFR6n47tdbYnpL/s2048/09A46A26-4378-4961-BDB2-EFDC021F4A89.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinzMDLclc6b_Xg9EB-3YTlp0ijlBIs7WQ7_XSEdcuTPlr06v2frgZMz73F7Er9yTcwrhOoalXES63ISAdYYkAblpVs9m79Fl2liMnIM8eqyjwdCXY30UNKWdqFR6n47tdbYnpL/s320/09A46A26-4378-4961-BDB2-EFDC021F4A89.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This was the first time I've ever had one of these. I normally don't like lavender in my food, but the flavor of this was actually pretty good. The only problem? It was so hard to find any meat-it's so little! Underneath was a puree of parsnip. One of these days I'd like to make something with parsnips. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h4>Rosemary Citrus "Cheesecake"</h4></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidaUuofITQBSOiGUDsZ_nHW4IxGUGB9MiKccI1vsjMNBB7BzPTVQG6CD4txvPuXc_HViftOrj5LQRth1TPld0aHs9xHb42gs3Kf50-IrUeqcwdR8VuCPO83jumFoP6nj_TmK_i/s2048/0A295216-DBBC-44EB-949C-3E2694E6503E.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidaUuofITQBSOiGUDsZ_nHW4IxGUGB9MiKccI1vsjMNBB7BzPTVQG6CD4txvPuXc_HViftOrj5LQRth1TPld0aHs9xHb42gs3Kf50-IrUeqcwdR8VuCPO83jumFoP6nj_TmK_i/s320/0A295216-DBBC-44EB-949C-3E2694E6503E.jpeg" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You guys, this was so, so good. I pretty much licked the plate, and then licked my husband's plate. I think this was my favorite course. (Let's be honest, all desserts are my favorite.) This deconstructed cheesecake was a perfect blend of sweet and crunchy, with a floral lightness. I don't remember what the granola was made out of because when the plate was set down in front of me I stopped paying attention to the chef. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Aside from the delicious dinner, the company was great. It felt so good being around a group of strangers, getting to know one another. I love people. I love listening to them, learning from them, and hearing stories about their life. The couple sitting across from us were getting married on our anniversary, which means our anniversary will be their anniversary too!!! What's more, they met the day Dave and I got married, which is why they wanted to marry on the same day. What fun!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was a night of great food, and even better company. 😍</div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseDxZGZ-2CLY2BaLanHBmx1aCjkzOrtCg9xUNET1pCnWRSsOpKeMwj-zJ5H2-8UOCWHcdlP3POS4af1bwyVgHD_hnlFLhLePePnZ1UMjuJXwB-jmX8HjSYkJzCOip9RazXZnU/s2048/A2504BAF-D25F-47A8-9926-BB718197A127_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseDxZGZ-2CLY2BaLanHBmx1aCjkzOrtCg9xUNET1pCnWRSsOpKeMwj-zJ5H2-8UOCWHcdlP3POS4af1bwyVgHD_hnlFLhLePePnZ1UMjuJXwB-jmX8HjSYkJzCOip9RazXZnU/s320/A2504BAF-D25F-47A8-9926-BB718197A127_1_201_a.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> </p>Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-12127208464817380322021-03-15T15:42:00.001-07:002021-03-15T15:42:26.097-07:00Blowing off the Dust <p style="text-align: center;">It's alive, it's alive! </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOIWKlkceDgXyk3P0Xyu1aQmPmulLqmYp6T1Jjs-ZkfQtWs2g_UPcfDr6XOYGGzpucIkGomvCLEIwbFxCWxXS8InT3XC2owznSpO8BRi76vzOr7OTjPPHZLEFsVMopPNYyebj/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOIWKlkceDgXyk3P0Xyu1aQmPmulLqmYp6T1Jjs-ZkfQtWs2g_UPcfDr6XOYGGzpucIkGomvCLEIwbFxCWxXS8InT3XC2owznSpO8BRi76vzOr7OTjPPHZLEFsVMopPNYyebj/" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I'm resurrecting my blog. </p><p>Do people even blog anymore? </p><p>I've recently felt the need to create. Creating things feels good. </p><p>Things that people create: </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Music</li><li>Art (drawing, painting, coloring, </li><li>Movies</li><li>Food</li><li>Cross stitching, Embroidery</li><li>Clothing</li><li>Books</li><li>Poetry</li></ul><p></p><p>The list goes on. </p><p>Most of my creating is done with words. </p><p>I think because I haven't been working, I need some sort of outlet for my thoughts and words. Where do I keep my words? In my head, usually. I do have a lot to say often. I wonder about things. I question the "why." I get mad and then vent. When these words and thoughts do not stay in my head I share them with my husband. Poor guy is a good sport in listening to me vent and wonder. </p><p>When I was taking a creative writing class years back, I realized that everyone has a story and everyone wants to be a writer. (Duh, it was a creative writing class, of course they all wanted to be writers.) When I was younger I wrote something saying that I was going to be an author (and a teacher). Yeah, well, it turns out it's 1-not that easy, and 2-you can never be something you don't actually works towards. So, am I going to be working on becoming an author? Nah. But, I will be writing. It feels good to write. (No, I don't have the 'Rona, I really do like writing.) I had a friend of mine tell me to just write. Not for anyone, but for myself. Thinking in those terms takes the pressure off. Although, I guess if I were writing just for myself I wouldn't be publishing this on a blog. Yeah, well, I still like sharing too. </p><p>So, here it is.</p><p>Over the years my blog has evolved. It started out as <i>The Shop Around the Corner</i>, where it was pretty much random thoughts. Then it changed into a "mommy blog." There was a season when I complained about family and getting divorced. More mom stuff. More life stuff. Now, well, now I don't know where this will go. This blog might just stay as an outlet for me to vent, think, share, question....Who knows. Will I care if anyone reads it? Of course! But, will it stop me from writing if people don't? No. Maybe this time I write for just myself. Maybe this time I be creative in what I post. Maybe I'll share fictional stories. Maybe autobiographical stories. Maybe I share my prayers. This I do know...This is my lane. This is what feels good to me. I hope some of you come along for the journey. </p>Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-32670786252130350592018-06-09T20:35:00.001-07:002018-06-09T20:35:48.396-07:00Grandpa's Birthday <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">This story was written, by me, for a creative non-fiction class I took. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Since tomorrow is the day this happened, two years ago, I wanted to share my story. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I hope this story means something to you as it does to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Or at the very least, I hope you connect to it somehow. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6yxm4KWC-dFHdlXY8uYJv5ZjVJcO7B72L0WDrajQ1_MNE-nf3N9Ltt2jEMJVUgyGGm58bhWGKC5bIJEKW9fTuEAP4RrRXF1DnjBRC5wRGfsUZ2oyNIO75fRiNLlHD5LUD2Bg/s1600/1378065_10202595367397718_2032280766_n+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6yxm4KWC-dFHdlXY8uYJv5ZjVJcO7B72L0WDrajQ1_MNE-nf3N9Ltt2jEMJVUgyGGm58bhWGKC5bIJEKW9fTuEAP4RrRXF1DnjBRC5wRGfsUZ2oyNIO75fRiNLlHD5LUD2Bg/s320/1378065_10202595367397718_2032280766_n+%25281%2529.jpg" width="222" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Grandpa’s Birthday<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Tiffiny!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I jumped out of bed at an alarming rate. It’s amazing at how fast one can move, even when being jolted out of a deep sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I ran into my grandparents’ room where I found my grandma in a panic. My grandfather was sitting on the toilet, unable to move. He was awake, but he wasn’t talking and his body was limp. He was leaning against the wall to keep himself upright. It looked as if the wall was keeping him from falling over. My grandmother said, “I think he’s had a stroke.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My mind was cloudy, it was six in the morning, I was trying to wake up. This was no way to wake up. I had to think fast, clearly. My mind was not working. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I ran over to my grandpa. “Grandpa! Grandpa, are you okay?” I knew before I asked that he was not okay. I said to my grandma, “I’m calling 911.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Even as I dialed the number I thought of news reports of chronic understaffing at emergency call centers, terrified of how long it might take for someone to be able to send help. I worried about how many rings it would take for them to answer? How long would it take for them to get here? Do I remember my address? I’d better call from our landline in case I don’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“911, what’s your emergency?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“I think my grandpa has had a stroke or something.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Okay, I’m going to transfer you to emergency response.” She connected me to someone else, which happened pretty quickly. That lady then proceeded to have me ask my grandfather a series of questions to see if he could respond. He could not. He couldn’t talk. His right arm was hanging down, he was slumped over, still leaning against the wall and now shaking a little. He wasn’t responding to my questions, let alone my voice. His eyes were open, he was conscious, but he didn’t seem like he was there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Emergency response said that they would send someone right over, so I hung up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I left my grandparents’ bedroom and I immediately had a million things run through my head at once. First, I needed to call my aunt in Ohio. I was shaking and having a hard time catching my breath. I dialed my aunt’s number and when she answered I just blurted out, “I think Grandpa had a stroke.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I was still unable to breathe, but I managed to tell her what was going on up to that point. I told her the ambulance was on its way, but I also wondered what was taking it so long. As I became more aware of the situation, it then occurred to me that I needed to also call my mom in Oklahoma. I said to my aunt, “I need to call mom. Should I call mom right now or wait till later?” It was right at this moment that the ambulance finally arrived. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Never mind, I have to go Aunt Lisa, the ambulance is here. I’ll call you later.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I went to the door and walked outside. I felt like it took the paramedics forever to get their stuff out of the ambulance. I felt very antsy inside, and I was thinking, “Come on already! What’s taking you so long?” However, I tried to be as patient as I possibly could, standing there in my mismatched pajamas, with crazy bed hair, and being thankful it was a cool June morning-not hot like most June days in the Central Valley of California. This was not just any morning either, it was my grandpa’s 84<sup>th</sup>birthday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The paramedics finally brought their gurney up to the door. I showed them where my grandpa was. I told them he had Kaiser, and that I guess that they’d have to take him there. I asked if they needed his Kaiser card, as if that was the most important thing to worry about. I also asked if they needed his medication, which I then realized I had no idea where it was kept. I instantly started looking through all the bathroom drawers. I looked for my grandpa’s wallet in his desk and eventually found everything I thought they would need to make things easier. I then put it all into a Ziploc bag. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">As I was doing this, the paramedics were lifting my grandpa off the toilet and onto the gurney. All my grandfather was wearing was a wife-beater tank top, as they are called. I acknowledged to myself that this is the first time that I’ve seen my grandfather naked, and it seems that he’s now aware that everyone is seeing him in this vulnerable situation. He still couldn’t talk, but he was more alert than he had been less than 10 minutes earlier. It sounded as if he was trying to say something. He was mumbling, but the words made no sense. It sounded like his mouth was filled with cotton. With his left arm he was trying to cover his privates. The paramedics notice and covered him with a sheet. They took the Ziploc bag that I had handed to them, strapped grandpa in, and just like that they were off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Grandpa was gone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">He left wearing only his wife-beater tank top. I’ve never liked that terminology, since it conjures up an image that is not my grandfather. He is not a “wife beater.” Yet, that’s how he left the house. Unable to talk or move on his own, and wearing clothing that doesn’t fit who he is as a person. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I looked over and realize both of my kids had been watching this series of events as they’ve unfolded. I am instantly taken back to my own memory as a 3-year-old. My own great grandma was living with my grandparents. She had an aneurysm and my grandparents had to call for help. I so vividly remember the paramedics bringing the gurney into my grandparents’ dark house and taking my great grandma to the hospital. Now my own kids will have this same type of memory. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Now what do I do? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I told my grandma that she needed to get ready so we could go to the hospital. She was still in her nightgown. The nightgown she wore to bed, when everything was fine and the quiet was filled with pillow talk about my kids, their great-grandkids. That peace was gone. Now there was concern and dread. I asked her how she knew grandpa was in the bathroom and hurt? My grandma has bad hearing and only would wear her hearing aids on good days. She just told me that she heard what she thought was my grandpa banging on the wall. We didn’t know what yet, but it turns out something had happened to him while he was going to the bathroom and he may have hit the wall with his head, which would have been the noise my grandma heard. How could she hear that, I was still wondering? Although, I was glad she did. The night before this incident my grandpa was up at 2 in the morning because he couldn’t sleep. He moved the treadmill we had in the garage and walked two miles! The previous couple of days he had been complaining that he was tired and his back hurt from sitting too much. I guess his idea of fixing that was to get on the treadmill. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">As all of this was going through my mind, I realized that I still needed to call my mom, figure out something to do with my kids, and get to the hospital as quickly as I could. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">First thing was to call my mom. That news did not go over well. She instantly burst into tears. Then I called my friend, to see if she could pick up my daughter for a graduation party that was happening later that day. She also offered to take my son for the day. I quickly got dressed and looked around for things to take to the hospital. I grabbed my grandpa’s shoes and a change of clothes. My grandma looked at me and said, “What are you doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“I’m getting some clothes for when grandpa comes home later today. He didn’t have anything on. He needs his shoes.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Meja, I don’t think he’s coming home today.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">She was right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We finally made it to the Kaiser Emergency Department. They took us back and asked us a million of questions. We repeated the same story over and over to each person who asked. They had already done an MRI before we had arrived. They had also started to clean him up a little, since he had poop all over himself. On the ambulance ride over his blood sugar was super low, and they wondered if it was his diabetes that caused the incident, even though they still had no idea what the “incident” was, but they were looking into anything and everything as being as option. They weren’t sure if he had a stroke, but it was still a possibility. For a brief moment he could look at my grandmother, and myself, and he knew who we were. He knew he was in the hospital. He knew today was his birthday. However, he couldn’t verbally answer any questions. He was only able to shake his head yes. He used his left hand to try to answer number questions, even though he was right handed. His whole right side of his body was paralyzed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A doctor had come in to ask my grandma more questions. My grandma said that my grandpa didn’t want to be hooked to any machines, and she almost told him that she didn’t want to connect him to a breathing machine. I told her that this was not prolonging grandpa’s life, but just trying to make him better. She finally agreed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The nurses told us that they needed to intubate my grandfather, which also meant that they were going to sedate him. The process was usually difficult for the family to watch, so the nurse told us we needed to leave. My grandfather looked at me and smiled. My grandma patted his hand and said to him, “It’ll be okay.” We all thought it would be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">It wasn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My grandma and I headed out to the waiting room. As we sat down I scoped out the other patients. It was a Friday morning, so the ER wasn’t really busy. I guess everyone else was in the regular part of the hospital, attending to everyday life. Here we were facing real life stuff, as others are just going on about their business. The other patients in the waiting room looked “normal” so I wasn’t worried about catching the flu, which is what I usually worry about whenever I enter the hospital. We sat there and waited; and my grandmother was impatient. She checked with the receptionist every 15 minutes. I tried to reach out to my grandpa’s last living brother, who lived in town. I didn’t have his phone number, but thanks to Facebook, anyone can be found these days. I called and text people. I checked in with my aunt, my sisters, my brother, my mom. I was thankful that I had the foresight to bring my phone charger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And we waited. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">After about an hour or so were finally told that grandpa had his own room. We were taken to the 3<sup>rd</sup>floor, where we entered his sun filled room. The room was empty, with the exception of the monitors, the bed, and a convertible chair for guests. The room seemed cold, despite the fact that the sun was shining through. Even though the room was big and empty, it felt crowded. Crowded with emotion, anxiety, worry, and confusion. We had no idea what was about to happen. We had no idea what was wrong with grandpa. We didn’t know that we were about to play the hurry up and wait game. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Grandpa was sedated so it looked as if he were asleep. He was hooked up to a machine, with clear accordion looking tubes coming out of his mouth. His arms were strapped down to the sides of the bed. I instantly did not like the looks of that and inquired about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Why are his arms strapped down?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The nurse replied, “They do that for everyone who is intubated. Sometimes when people are sedated they try to pull out the tubes. It’s for their safety.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Well, it looks uncomfortable. I don’t like it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“We can loosen it for him a bit.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">They did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The rest of my day was filled with more phone calls. My aunt being three hours ahead, and my mom being two hours ahead, I was constantly looking at the clock and having to do the math. When you’re tired and not a math major, even adding three or two hours can make your brain hurt. I got tired of being on my phone. People were asking me questions I didn’t have answers to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We saw the doctor often, but each time there was no clear answer as to what happened to grandpa. He may or may not have had a stroke, but one thing was for sure and that was that his organs were shutting down, including his kidneys. Eventually his skin started to swell, and he turned yellow. Jaundice was setting in. Over the course of the day my grandpa never had any urine output. At one point surgery was spoken about as an option, but they weren’t really clear what good it would do, nor were they sure that he would be strong enough to survive an operation. After a variety of options given to my grandmother and myself, we decided to give him overnight to see what happened. If nothing improved, we’d take him off the ventilator in the morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">A friend came to stay with my grandma and grandpa while I went home to take a shower and prep for staying the night in the hospital. Once I was at home, and changing, I stood in front of my closet, looking at my clothes. What did I want to wear? What was comfortable for sleeping in at a hospital? I pulled out my Reading Rainbow shirt. It was comfy, but did I want this to be the shirt I wore if my grandpa died? I liked this shirt and I didn’t want to have it associated with a bad memory. That was the first moment when I let the idea seep in that my grandfather could, in fact, not come home. If I weren’t already emotionally drained, I would have broken down and cried. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I’ve never worn that shirt again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I got all cleaned up and finally made it back to the hospital. My grandma was taken home by the friend who was visiting, and yet another friend came to visit. She said she’d stay with me throughout the night. I was thankful to her for that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">While we were sitting there, my friend and I started to chat to pass the time. She has been my friend for over 20 years. She had a relationship with my grandpa, knowing just as much about him as I did. She knew that it was my grandpa’s birthday. I told her how I was afraid he was going to die on this day, his birthday, and that he just couldn’t. I have had this weird association with days people have died as being the same day as someone’s birthday. My daughter’s dad died the same day as my friend’s son was born. My friend’s mom died on my mom’s birthday. My cousin died on my friend’s mom’s birthday. I didn’t want my grandpa to fall prey to this. I know it’s all coincidental, but part of me thinks there is some meaning behind it. As I was sharing this with my friend she assured me that my grandpa won’t die on his birthday. I was hoping she was right, but I wasn’t convinced. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The night was long. It was dark but not quiet in the room. All I could hear was the beeping of the machines and the air-flow of the ventilator. It sounded like Darth Vader had taken up residency in the room. It almost seemed too loud. I felt as if I should be quiet and give my grandfather some peace and rest. It was in those moments that I took in all that was my grandpa. The puffiness and change of color in his skin. He never opened his eyes. The last time I saw his eyes on mine, or his face smile, was earlier that morning down in the ER. Now, he looked asleep. His arms were still tied to the bed, and he occasionally jerked his arm up. I guess the nurses were right about patients wanting to take out the intubation tubing. During one of those moments I noticed how my grandpa’s hand was dirty. Did the ER nurses not clean him up properly? I looked for a washrag. If my grandpa was going to die, it was not going to be with poop on his hands. He deserved to go out of this world with more dignity than that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> My grandpa was not just a grandpa, he was my father. My grandma and grandpa took the place of my parents. They raised me. My grandpa worked nights while my grandma worked days. During the days my grandpa would have to sleep, so in order to get me to sleep he’d have to trick me into getting tired. We’d lie in bed, and he’d tell me fairy tales. It was from him where I learned about the Big Bad Wolf, <i>Cinderella</i>,<i>Little Red Riding Hood</i>, <i>Jack and the Beanstalk</i>, Goldilocks, and how it was always better to be the smarter brother of the <i>Three Little Pigs</i>. I’m sure my love of literature started from these moments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My grandpa was a hardworking man. He provided for his family and was a good example to others of how to be a man. He never walked away from a difficult situation. He was a Korean War Veteran, yet he never thought of himself in that regard. He loved to watch <i>The Andy Griffith Show</i>, and whenever it wasn’t on, he’d still be whistling the tune. Boy that use to drive my grandma crazy. I’d hear her call out from the bedroom on many occasion, “Shut up Mike!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My grandpa lived a good life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I was thinking about this when Father Anthony showed up at the hospital room. He wanted to pray for my grandfather, and possibly give him his last rites. He prayed, I prayed, my friend prayed. He then talked to my friend and I for a good hour after that. I had to wonder, was he lonely? Why did he hang out? Why in the world was this guy in such a chipper mood, especially at 11 o’clock at night? He had story after story to share. I think he’d be friends with my grandpa if the circumstances were different. I could imagine them sitting on the living room couch, chatting about politics and religion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The evening nurse was pretty friendly too. She was close to my age, and as she, my friend, and myself were chatting, I thought, “We could be friends on the outside.” I think that’s when I realized I was sitting in a jail of sorts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Eventually it was just my grandpa, my friend, and myself. The friendly nurse only came in when needing to check vitals. The room was dark, with a looming Darth Vader in the corner. The chair I was trying to sleep on was terrible. Around 4 a.m. I finally gave up any hopes of sleeping. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">5 a.m. I called my aunt. I went out to the hospital hallway to sit on the floor and have some privacy. Privacy in a hospital is an oxymoron. Being so early in the morning the hospital was still fairly quiet. The only people wandering the halls were nurses, doctors, and other family members. Some of us would make eye contact with one another. We were kind of in a club that none of us wanted to be part of. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">6 a.m. I called my mom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">7 a.m. brought in the doctor. The news was grim. He didn’t know the why of what happened, but he knew one thing. My grandfather was dying. His organs were shutting down. The only reason why he was still alive was because of the breathing machine. The same breathing machine that my grandma had said, only a mere 24 hours before, that she didn’t want my grandfather to be hooked up to. Turns out the machine did prolong his life. But was it prolonging his suffering? Was he at peace? Was he in pain? It was in that moment that I was grateful that I had the night to spend with my grandfather, as it turned out it was to be my last night with him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">8 a.m. and grandma and my daughter showed up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">People from the church came to pray. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Grandpa’s brother finally showed up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Grandma was continuously patting Grandpa's hand. I think this was her way of reassuring him that it was all going to be okay. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">There was a hustle and bustle to the room, yet quiet at the same time. People were whispering and standing around the bed looking down at grandpa.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">10 a.m. was when we decided that we would be taking grandpa off of the ventilator.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">10:45 a.m. and my mom called to talk to my grandpa. I held the phone up to his ear while I listened to her cry and say her final goodbyes to her father. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">11 a.m. we took him off the ventilator. There were 4 of us by his side-my grandma, my daughter, my grandpa’s brother, and myself. My grandma didn’t want the machine to make any noise, or even be on. It was a bright sunny June morning, but dark in the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My grandpa never took a breath on his own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">As soon as he was taken off of the ventilator, he passed on to his next journey. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">He died the day after his 84<sup>th</sup>birthday, and I kept thinking, “Well, at least he didn’t die on his actual birthday. He made it through my weird superstitious birth day/death day thing.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The sun was bright that morning. Too bright. We walked out of the hospital with a heaviness in our hearts. We were without grandpa. He was gone. My grandfather, who was like my father. Gone. My grandma’s only love. Gone. Growing up they were next door neighbors. They knew of each other practically their whole lives. Now we were to go home and just pick up where we left off? As we were getting into the car two things happened. I noticed the shoes I had packed the day before. How naïve I was to think he’d be going home. The second thing that happened was that I looked over to see a new set of parents getting into their car. The sun was shining in my eyes, so at first I only saw one car seat. As soon as I was able to focus a little better I saw a second car seat. Twins. It was another June early afternoon, not yet hot but with the air still cool from the night before. It was then that I heard one of the newborns give out a small cry-half in fear, half in wonder-as the sun hit their faces for the first time. This family was starting a new life with excitement and joy. We were starting a new life without excitement or joy. Birth and death-both coming out of that same hospital door. </span> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-4150407521920279302017-11-21T15:32:00.001-08:002017-11-21T15:32:50.609-08:00Dreams of 2018I can't believe that we are nearing the end of 2017-just when I started getting use to writing down '17 for the date on everything! ;)<br />
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Last year my boyfriend asked me what my dreams or plans were for this year. I had a hard time answering him. I'm not one to make resolutions, but that's not what he was really asking about. He was curious about my goals. My dreams. Hmmmm...I had to think about that. I realized that I didn't have any dreams. How sad it that?! Don't get me wrong, there were things I wanted to do, but no real vision or dream to be excited about for the new year. Some of it could have been because of where I was in life. That year I lost my grandfather. He was my father figure. He was the one man in my life I could depend on. That was a difficult time, and I think I was still in the stages of grief. Also, I've spent a whole lot of my life just surviving. Yeah, sure, I've done things I've been excited about. I've accomplished many things I'm proud of. I've worked hard to better myself. However, through it all, I think I was just maintaining. I was doing what I had to do in order to pay my bills, take care of my kids, provide for myself, keep my sanity, you know-live. So, it's not that I didn't have dreams, I just didn't sit around and daydream. I didn't think of things I wanted, or longed for. Ain't nobody got time for that! ;) </div>
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But then this year happened. So many changes and good things came to pass. Some changes were hard, but necessary. Some changes were welcomed (but still difficult), some were not. Some things have forced me to grow as a person-to look deep within myself and find ways to improve. I think my biggest struggles have had to deal with self-confidence (which seeps into everything I do), as well as being a good mom (which I'm sure I'll never figure out). However, through it all, I had an amazing year. This year I found love. This year I didn't feel stressed too, too much about life. This year I made plans and thought of things I'd like to do and accomplish. This year it's been more than just surviving, it's been living and looking ahead to the future. Thinking about my future excites me! I can't wait for tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. (Even though each day I seem to have a million things to do, but I know it's all for attaining the next greatest thing God has in store for me.) </div>
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This year I've sat with the notion of God giving me the desires of my heart. Two verses in Psalm's speaks to this. </div>
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Psalm 20:4 <i>May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed. </i></div>
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Psalm 37:4 <i>Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of you heart. </i></div>
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So, what's on my heart? </div>
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What are my desires? </div>
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Here's my list for 2018. </div>
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*To be married </div>
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*Writing/Encouragement </div>
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*Fellowship through food </div>
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*Doing more with the women of my church </div>
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*Full-time job </div>
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*Connecting more with my children </div>
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Some of these I'll go into more detail. </div>
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<b><u>To Be Married</u></b></div>
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This seems funny to be number one on my list. (And no, I'm not engaged, but it's a burning desire I have for this year.) </div>
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One of my good friends told me a long time ago that God created us to be with other people. I mean he made Adam, and then made Eve as a companion, right? I love the notion of being with someone. For a very long time I swore off love. I'm pretty sure it didn't exist in the ways you see it on TV. In the past I had made poor choices concerning men. Most of the choices I made were based on how I viewed myself-my own self worth. So, I took a break from dating. I spent time focusing on my kids, my work, my friends, and myself. For about 6 years I was on my own, and I liked it just fine. I didn't look to men to find my value. No, instead I looked to God. (I think this is a life long process.) Then, just when I wasn't looking for any type of relationship, I found one. I believe whole heartedly that God brought me to Dave (or Dave to me). I think I've shared the story, so I won't do it again. Although, I will say this....our meeting was directly orchestrated by God. I believe that 100%. I cannot express the love I have for this man, in fact it's kind of ridiculous. It's a real love, and it's so very, very good-better than I could have ever imagined, and I don't mind telling people that. (All my Facebook friends will vouch for the sappy posts I write.) We compliment one another. We are better together than apart. So in that, I can't wait to do life with this man.</div>
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<b><u>Writing/Encouragement</u></b> </div>
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For the longest time I had wanted to be an author. I like writing. I've liked writing in journals/diaries. I've liked writing stories for English class. I love telling stories through print. For me it's a form of expression. I've done it for free, I've done it for money. I've done it for fun, and I've done it for work. It's part of the reason why I started this blog, as well as the other 2 I've had. Now, I'm not saying I'm great at writing, but I do enjoy it, and I hope some of you enjoy reading the things I have to say. </div>
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As far as the encouragement aspect of this...I know that my story can help others. I think things I've learned from in my past can help someone with their future. Some of my experiences have been a result from my own poor choices, and some have been things that have been done to me. Either way, the things I've lived through have given me insight as to who I am today. Not only that, but I know that I can be of an encouragement to others. It's like I can say, "Look at what I've been through, and look at where I am today. You can do it too!" </div>
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So now, I have to think how the two of these can blend together. That I don't know. But, maybe something will come of this, and maybe not. Maybe I just keep sharing all my thoughts on Facebook, and that will somehow be enough. I don't really know, but this desire of wanting to write and encourage others has been on my heart for a very long time. In time it will blossom into something. </div>
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<b><u>Fellowship Through Food</u></b></div>
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You guys, this one excites me so very, very much! I have believed for the longest time that food brings people together. I have had a many dinner with friends, and each time I've walked away from the meal with a full tummy AND heart. Last year I read <i>For the Love</i> by, <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/home.htm" target="_blank">Jen Hatmaker</a>. In the book she talks about how she has dinner with her neighbors once a month (or week). Everything she's said on this topic I remember thinking, "Yes, yes, and yes!" This is where true friendships take place. This is where you get to know one another and lean on one another. I remember having dinner with some women from church a few years back. We met during bible study, and met up once every couple of months to have dinner. It was such a lovely time. We learned from one another. We grew as women. We loved on each other. We bonded. I've started listening to Jen Hatmaker's podcast now. The new series I'm listening to is called <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/podcast" target="_blank">For the Love of Food</a>. I have loved each and every one of the podcasts I've listened to so far. I have so many ideas swirling around in my head and heart about this. The table is the place for love, connections, and intimacy. Not just with our families, but with others. Other women. Other men. Our neighbors. Our friends from church. Our girlfriends. So, this coming year I'm doing something about this burning desire I've had all year. I haven't exactly worked out the details, but I've got a few things brewing (see what I did there), and I'm nearly busting at my seams to get this started. </div>
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<b><u>Connecting with Women at Church</u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Being part of a community is very important to me. <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Since I’ve been attending a new church, I’ve had this longing to do more with the group of women who also attend. With that in mind, I started attending the women’s bible study, as well as doing my best to interact with everyone. The benefit of attending a small church is that each week I can mingle with everyone and check in with how people are doing. It’s nice to be connected in that way, as it creates a bond, an intimacy that unites us. I have a desire for those types of friendships. I don’t know how this desire will manifest itself, but I’m excited to know that these friendships will only grow deeper.</span></span><br />
<br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">As for the last two on my list, well, those are pretty self-explanatory.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I have no idea what 2018 will look like, but I’m expecting big things! I am so very excited for new beginnings, new experiences, new memories. I know more good things are coming my way, and I feel giddy about it that I had to share with everyone. Seriously, my mind was wandering today with so many ideas and I had this burning </span><span style="color: #222222;">excitement inside, so much so that I had to sit down and write about it. Now, don't start thinking I'm being all Pollyanna like. I'm fully aware that life isn't always hunky-dory and that bad things will happen-some of which because of my very own stupidity. BUT, I'm choosing to look at all the good. I'm focusing on the positive. Ask anyone who knows me, I like to find the positive in a bad situation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">But really, there is just so much good to be happy about! Right?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">I'm super excited for 2018. Let's get this dog and pony show a'goin! </span></span></div>
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Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-20185374312838266512017-06-10T06:04:00.003-07:002017-06-10T06:04:46.740-07:00Remembering I have been sitting at my computer for 15 minutes, unsure how to start this. I've tried something witty. I've tried something thought-provoking. I've tried pulling from my heart. However, I've got nothing. I have no idea where to begin.<br />
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So, I'll just say it. </div>
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This is a day I've been dreading for a while now. </div>
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A year ago today my grandfather went into the hospital, unexpectedly, and died 24 hours later. June 10th was his birthday. He turned 84 years old. June 11th, he passed away. </div>
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I remember the morning, yet I can't think about it. When I do, everything comes back. The feelings of the morning. I was afraid, but also naive. I thought for sure my grandpa would come home from the hospital. We originally thought he had a stroke. My grandma found him, and then called out for me. It was early in the morning, on a Friday. I called 911 right away. It seemed like it took hours for an ambulance to get to us, but I'm sure it was only minutes. I was shaking, and unable to catch my breath. When the paramedics took my grandfather away, we hurriedly got ready to meet them at the hospital. I remember gathering his shoes and clothes, saying that he'd need them when he came home later that day. </div>
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I was wrong. </div>
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I don't think I really want to talk about the 24 hours that followed the trip to the hospital, other than to say that I had some amazing people who came out to support me. One of my best friends came out to spend the night. Another best friend took care of my kids. Many people from my church came to pray. Another friend helped to take care of my grandma, bringing her to and from the hospital. Then there were others who tried to comfort us while still doing their job. The nurses, the priest. Oh my gosh, the priest was hilarious. He had stories to share, and he really just wanted to have an audience. I will forever be grateful for all the people who supported my family during that time. My church family really rallied around us all after my grandfather's passing. They checked in on me. They brought us food. They loved on us in such a sincere way. I cannot fully express my gratitude. </div>
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So here we are, a year later. One full year. A lot has happened during that time. Through all the sadness and grief, the tears, the happiness, and all the changes, I still miss my grandfather terribly. I remember that my grief was so deep. I cried all the time. I was irritated at people who were having a "bad day" because something small happened. I thought, "You have no idea what a bad day is." Strangers would ask me how I was, as a common greeting. Most days I would answer with, "Meh." Sometimes I'd say, "Okay." The day after my grandpa died the barista in Starbucks asked me how I was. I respond in a way that prompted him to ask me more. Finally I told him, "My grandfather just died yesterday." He was kind to me, apologizing, and then giving me my drinks for free. It made me realize, do people really want to know how you are when they ask? Not usually. Do I really want to tell people how I am when I'm going through a crisis? No, not really. </div>
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Here's the thing about grief. It's different for everyone. It can be overwhelming. It's shows up when you least expect it. A song, a sound, a smell, an action. Even now, as I'm sitting here there are tears.<br />
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I went out to watch the sunrise this morning. I love mornings because it's so quiet. There is no hustle and bustle of cars. The birds are chirping, and it's so peaceful. I love just being in the moment, connecting to God. This morning I thinking of Grandpa.<br />
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I miss my grandpa in all that I do, but even more so when I'm doing something that reminds me of him. I've started painting my room. The last time I painted, my grandpa was here to help. Now he's not. </div>
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My uncle said he lived a full, happy life. And he did. </div>
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In the midst of my grief I found ways to be thankful. </div>
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I was thankful to my friends, family, and church.<br />
I was thankful I had a whole night with my grandfather in the hospital.<br />
I was thankful that our last words were ones of love. There was no fighting in our home. I don't have any regrets. </div>
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He was a father figure to me, not just my grandpa. He was the main male role model for me for most of my life. He taught me so much. He taught me all the important fairy tales. We use to take naps together (because he worked the night shift at the Fresno Bee), and he would tell me all the stories. Then, as I learned them all, I'd have to tell him the stories. I was usually asleep before one was ever finished. I'm surprised I learned the ending to any of them. My grandpa would also have me scratch his back each nap time, paying me with my choice of 1 dollar, or 100 pennies. I always chose the 100 pennies, and he always had me count them out. Whenever I said I loved him, he would reply with, "Same here." He called me Tippy. He was a giver. He worked hard his whole life to provide for his family. </div>
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So here I am, sitting in reflection. When we left the hospital the day he died, I remember noticing a family also leaving the maternity area. They had twins. We were leaving without our family patriarch, our family had a small hole in it. They were leaving with happy hearts, starting a new family. I'm guessing somewhere they're celebrating a 1 year birthday this weekend. This is the epitome of life and death.<br />
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Speaking of.....I bought a plant for the memorial service. One day while I was at work my uncle planted it for me, but it died pretty quickly. I didn't think it was going to sprout up again. However, over the past few weeks it's started to come up! Evidence of life, right when I needed to see it. <br />
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My plans for the next 24 hours are to keep busy. I will keep painting. I will surround myself with friends. I will let the tears flow, because sadness is just part of life at times. I will hold on to special memories of my grandpa. I might even find an Andy Griffith show and hum the tune. My grandma use to get so mad when my grandpa would whistle the opening, and he would laugh and laugh about that. </div>
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Man, I miss him so much.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandpa Mike and myself as a wee one. <br />(Probably 1980 or 1981.)</td></tr>
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Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-79077715622930511692017-05-04T21:57:00.001-07:002017-05-04T22:34:24.371-07:00A Letter To My Church<div style="color: #454545; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
Get some popcorn and tuck yourself in for a nice long bedtime story! ('Cept I hope it won't put you to sleep.) </div>
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Here's my story to my friends at my old, and new church. (But actually old church...You'll see what I mean as you read.) </div>
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Even though I attended church as a child, I wouldn't really say I grew up in church. I was born into a Catholic family, and was baptized Catholic as a newborn. Since my grandparents took care of me, I have memories of accompanying my grandpa to church. I remember my grandpa doing the signs of the cross before sitting in the pews. I remember the darkness of the church, and how cool it felt inside. Other than those few experiences, I didn't attend church regularly. </div>
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Around 6 or 7 years of age, after my mom married my step-dad, his parents started taking me to church. They were Christian, but at that age I didn't really know that there were different denominations. We went to a few churches here and there. I remember liking church, and have fond memories of people. Once a lady told my step-grandma that she loved watching me sing and dance during worship. Thinking back about that cracks me up, because I DO NOT dance during worship anymore. Ah, to be young and carefree again. Anyway, my step-grandparents finally settled on a church-Calvary (I don't remember the full name, but now it's called Calvary World Outreach Center). This was sometime during the late 80's, and my home life was in a little bit of an upheaval. I enjoyed going to church with Kurt and Hazel (my step-grandparents), as it got me out of the house for a whole day. For a whole long time we went to Calvary, and I would say that's where most of my foundational learning happened. </div>
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Eventually I stopped going to church, as I ended up moving in with my dad. At the same time I got involved in Girl Scouts (stay with me, I promise it's all connected), and met this happy/spunky/energetic/spirited girl named Jamie. Jamie's family went to church and invited me to go. Guess where? Calvary. For reals-the exact same one from when I was a child. So, for the next 5 years, I attended Calvary. It was off and on, as I moved again, and more family stuff happened. But, whenever I got the chance, I would go to church with Jamie and her family. During 9th grade her mom really took me in and loved on me. 12th grade was when I became more serious, and more growth happened. I was baptized again, and I really started to find out who I was, and what I wanted out of life and from God. I had a fire for God, and that Fall I went away to a Christian College, with a bold confidence that only a naive 18 year old can have. </div>
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Then more life happened. </div>
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Here's the Cliff Notes version....I lived in Redding for a while, I lived in Southern California for another long while, then I moved back to Fresno. During those long years I met Seren's dad, got married, had Seren, attended college, and eventually got divorced. I was still friends with Jamie, and I would attended Calvary here and there. I helped out with some of the youth for a little bit, but didn't really call Calvary my home church anymore. After my divorce I started trying out different churches. I settled on one that I loved. I met some amazing people. People filled with peace, understanding, love, and encouragement. But, after a few years of me attending the church, it closed, and I had to find a new one. </div>
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Right around this time, Seren was in Kindergarten. I met a mom from Seren’s class (who is now like one of my sisters) who told me about First Presbyterian (I can FINALLY spell that all on my own), and their Awana program. I started taking Seren there, and found out that some of my other friends went there as well. I was so happy! The moment I walked on to that campus, I felt at home. I’ve described it this way before, and it fits it perfectly….First Pres is like mashed potatoes-comforting to the soul. I attended church there for the next 9 years, even becoming a bonafide member. The church helped me through yet another divorce, financial woes, and through the death of Seren's dad, my uncle, and then my grandfather. Not only was the church there during my hard times, but they were also there through the happy ones as well. </div>
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I’ve grown while being at First Pres. I was encouraged to do more, to be more involved. I felt empowered to live freely in God, and not worry so much about things I’ve worried about. I made a whole lot of peace about things I’ve struggled with in the past. (Usually concerning stupid mistakes I’ve made.) I’ve grown as a Christian. I’ve made life long friendships and I’ve met some amazing women-women who are who they are in church, as well as out of church. The people are real. They are welcoming. They are non-judging. They are kind and peace filled. Their arms are open. They care for the community as a whole. I love the people at First Pres.</div>
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Now comes the part of the story where I tell you that I’ve now officially changed churches. What?! Why you ask? If I’m so happy with First Presbyterian, why switch churches? </div>
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Well, because I met Dave. </div>
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I’ll give the semi-short version of this story. (Who am I kidding, no I won’t.)</div>
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It’s been 6 years since my divorce. I dated someone for a few months, but other than that, I’ve been on my own. I decided very early on that I wanted to be alone and focus on myself, my kids, my relationship with God, and my family. That was it. I had absolutely no desire to be in a relationship. I thought I’d wait till the kids were grown and then maybe. I was perfectly content with life as it was. I do remember saying to God at one point, “If you want me in a relationship, you’re going to have to put me in one.” Here’s a lesson I’ve learned….Don’t try to boss God around. Ha!</div>
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Remember my friend Jamie? Well, we still kept in contact over the years (thanks Facebook). Last October she was coming to town (just like Santa, but without presents). I just happened to see her comment on something that she would be at Calvary on October 2nd-which happens to be Seren’s birthday. I thought how it would be nice to see her, and I made it a priority to make sure I visited her while she was in town. Now, I had every opportunity to NOT go to Calvary and see her. I was 1-already attending a church, and it felt weird going somewhere else on a Sunday morning; 2-It was Seren’s birthday and I could have made an excuse to just stay home with her; 3-I had been withdrawing a bit anyway, because I was still grieving the death of my grandfather, so me going out in general was kind of a big ordeal. These were all good reasons to just stay home. However, I WANTED to be there. I felt a calling to go. So I did. Once I got there boy did the memories pop up! So many good things happened at Calvary. So many friends made! So much learning that happened. So much growth. And so much history. Upon entering I was greeted by this very tall man who had a nice, firm handshake. I don’t remember much else about him, other than he asked me a few things, said he was glad I was there, and hoped I’d be back. I was approached by so many different people that I remember I had to actually put my phone away-imagine that!! Ha! Anyway, I enjoyed the service, sat with my friend Jamie, and then made plans to see her later in the week. </div>
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As planned, I finally got to have some one on one time with Jamie. She told me that a certain gentleman had asked about me at church. What?! ME?! Nobody every asks about me, unless they want to know what kind of cake I want for dessert. ;) Long story short (and if you want the long version of this story let me know and I’ll fill your ears with lovey dovey stuff), it was Dave (the tall man who greeted me) who was asking about me, and now we’re kind of a hot item. I mean like, we’re in love and it’s great. I feel like a teenage girl walking around with a goofy look on her face all the time. I think about him all day long, and doddle little hearts with his initials in the center. KIDDING! It’s bad, but it’s not that bad, come on, I’m an adult! ;) </div>
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While Dave and I have been going down this path of dating and towards building a life together, we had to think about church. For a while we would attend our churches individually, then meet up later. Sometimes I would go with him to church, sometimes he would go with me to church. We prayed about what to do. I prayed daily. He loves Calvary. I love First Pres. Would I have to leave First Pres? Would he have to leave Calvary? Would we both find a third and neutral church to attend? I didn’t have an answer right away, but I knew that I couldn’t keep going to two churches. It was like I was living in two different worlds. I seriously prayed about this every day. Every. Single. Day. I asked others to join me in prayer. And guess what? God answered me. Not just in a small unclear voice. No. It was loud, in my face, and very clear. And so, a couple of months ago I had my answer.</div>
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I decided to go back to Calvary. </div>
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So, to my friends at First Pres, I miss you, but you are still my friends, that hasn’t changed. I miss the teaching of Pastor Jeremy, but his sermons are online, so I can always listen to him if I want to. Friends, thank you for all that you’ve done for me during the last 9 years. Thank you for all of your love. Thank you for the guidance you’ve given to my children. My words cannot express my gratitude. Even though I miss things about First Pres, I also have a very strong peace and confidence about my decision. I feel like this chapter has closed, and I’m starting a new chapter, and I’m so very excited about it. </div>
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To my new friends at Calvary, I am so excited for what lies ahead! Thank you for opening your arms to me and welcoming me in. I’m looking forward to being part of the family. I feel like I’ve come home in a sense, as it all feels so right. I’ve already made connections, and I look forward to each day I get to see your faces! It’s all so amazing when I think about how this whole event has played out. I started at Calvary as a child, and now here I am, as if I’ve made a full circle back. I am in such awe, and I know this is exactly where I am suppose to be. </div>
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Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-65893647310308048232017-02-25T13:56:00.001-08:002017-02-25T13:56:47.165-08:00Being Vulnerable <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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There was a time in my life where I never cried in front of people. I grew up in a way where I felt that I had to guard my heart and feelings. I thought that if people saw me cry, that would show weakness, or that I took to heart whatever the person said to me-that I believed them. So instead I had to be strong and not cry. I didn't want anyone to think that I was affected by their words. I carried that with me all the way into most of my adulthood. Then all of a sudden, something changed. I started to wear my heart on my sleeve. I cried at everything. Someone hurt my feelings-I cried. Sad TV commercial-I cried. Someone else crying-I cried. I'm telling you, my emotions were at an all time high. I think I was exploding from holding in my emotions all those years.<br />
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Then, something happened after my grandfather died. I cried and cried and cried. And then I just stopped. I had felt a hurt I had not ever experienced, and I think my heart had had enough. (Or, maybe it's saving the tears for real life issues, not silly TV commercials.)<br />
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Anyway, so I was in this weird time emotionally-trying to find balance between being okay, and feeling my feelings. Right about this same time I started to ponder the subject of vulnerability. I think I'm a pretty honest person when it comes to my feelings. I mean, hey, I have this blog and all I do is talk about my feelings. I'm an open book. You want to know something? Just ask. But then I thought, "Am I <i>truly</i> honest in my response to people?" The past 6 weeks I've been part of a study at church where were are looking at spiritual practices. Last week (or maybe the week before) the idea of being vulnerable came up. Actually, for the past few months, I've been hearing people talk on the topic of vulnerability. The subject seems to be coming up left and right. So, when this happens, I tend to pay attention.<br />
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So what is it like to be vulnerable? When I think of the word, I think of sharing my feelings with others, not knowing how they will accept what I have to say.<br />
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Here are some definitions of the word.<br />
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<header class="luna-data-header" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><span class="dbox-pg" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 20px;">adjective</span></header><div class="def-set" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; padding-bottom: 17px;">
<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px;">1.</span><div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px;">
capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon.</div>
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<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px;">2.</span><div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px;">
open to moral attack, criticism, temptation, etc.</div>
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<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px;">3.</span><div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px;">
open to assault; difficult to defend. <div class="def-block def-inline-example" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #979797;">
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Wow. No wonder it's scary to be vulnerable. No wonder that I feel anxious after I share with the world my feelings about someone or something. I'm putting myself at risk to be wounded or hurt. I have no idea what people will think, or how they will react after hearing my thoughts. My fear is that someone will disagree with me, or attack me, or even worse-not feel the same way I do. The scary part about this all, is that if someone doesn't like you or attacks you for your feelings, it feels personal because it's usually from your heart. That's almost the worst kind of pain, right? It's one thing to be disliked for something you did, but to be disliked because of who you are at your core-it's like a dagger to your heart. Hence the definition.<br />
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Now, having said all of this, I find the idea of being vulnerable rewarding. When we are vulnerable with people something wonderful can happen. It involves taking risks, right? Through those risks trust is built. Connections are formed. A relationship is made stronger and goes deeper than just surface level. Real work is done.<br />
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It takes courage and self-acceptance to be vulnerable with one another. So this is my challenge to myself. To be more open and honest with people. This seems strange, because how can I be more honest with my feelings than I already am? Well, trust me, I don't share everything with everyone. I'm just like the average person. I'm afraid to sometimes tell people how I feel. I'm afraid that once my feelings are out there, I'm going to be judged or not liked. Or even worse-someone will point out something about myself that I need to work on, and they'll be right about it. I think this last sentence is more about God than about a real person. That's the thing about being vulnerable-it's not just how we are with our spouse or significant other. No, vulnerability affects everyone we come in contact with. Our family, friends, children, co-workers, God, even ourselves.<br />
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Vulnerability takes strength. So the next time I'm crying because I've just tapped into some deep emotions, I'm going to remember that, and not think of myself as being weak. Crying is a good thing. Or, well, it can be.<br />
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Being vulnerable-it's risky, but so rewarding, and that's what I want.Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-81909042364596114972016-12-30T11:00:00.002-08:002016-12-30T11:26:54.379-08:00Goodbye 2016, Hello 2017February 2015-That is the very last post from my blog. I had no idea that I would take that long of a sabbatical-not that I was intentionally taking one. I think with Facebook things have changed a bit. I can write snippets of my life to my friends (or "friends" if you will), which satisfies my desire to communicate my feelings to the world. Not to mention, up until recently, I had been writing weekly on FresYes.com. With both of those things, along with life happening, my blog took a back seat. I'm not quite wanting to resurrect continuous postings, but I have been thinking a lot lately, and my need to write has returned. You're welcome. ;)<br />
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With only mere days of 2016 left, I've been noticing that many people are so looking forward to leaving this year behind. I, too, will admit that 2016 was a rough one. I know that lots of people have been sad over many of the celebrities who have passed away, but I've been dealing with my own grief. I almost said real grief, but I suppose it's not really my place to say what's real to others.<br />
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2016 started off wonderfully. Well, maybe not the best, but it turned out to be pretty okay. I began the process of moving out of my own apartment, to move in with my grandparents. From February<br />
until June things were great. John and my Grandpa were great for one another. John learned a lot from him. They watched old movies together. They walked to the bus a few times a week. They hung out as buddies. My Grandpa taught John things that I couldn't. He loved John. I remember thinking how great life was going.<br />
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Then June 10th, everything changed. It was my Grandpa's 84th birthday. It was also the day he went into the hospital, after an early morning unexpected incident. He died early the next day.<br />
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My Grandpa was not just a grandpa to me. He was like my father. He raised me. He loved me and cherished all of his family. He was giving and kind. When he died my whole world changed. In fact, it shattered. I had watched the only man who loved me leave this world, and I felt that I had nothing left to offer anyone. I had no words. No joy. No happiness. I was mad. I was mad at those who were older than him, but were still alive. I was also so very, very sad. I was even tired at times. Yet, life still went on. I was working over the summer, teaching 2 courses, which happened to overlap during this time. I had kids who needed me. I had a grandmother who needed me as well. The man whom she spent 59 years with was no longer here. Her grief was intense.<br />
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During this time something happened. Even though I was incredibly sad, I still felt love. So many people showed their love to my family. My church family showed up and really loved on me and my Grandma. My friends went out of their way to support me. One friend helped to take care of my Grandma while I stayed at the hospital. She drove my Grandma to the hospital and stayed with her. My other friend spent the night with me at the hospital. She slept in a hospital chair for crying out loud. Most people only do that when there's a baby to be born. (This reminds me....While leaving the hospital, I saw a new family leave as well, with twin babies. My Grandpa had just died, but 2 new babies came into the world. Death and birth-kind of go hand in hand.) Yet another friend took care of my kids. Friends came to pray. The nurses kept us company and the priest made my friend and I laugh and laugh. (Gosh, I wish I remembered his name.) All this to say, even though a life was ending, I knew God was there. There was love and kindness.<br />
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So now 6 months have passed. There is no time frame on grief, and mine comes and goes. It was there for a whole long time, but now I feel okay.<br />
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This is the time where you're probably thinking, "What a downer!" Yeah, well, it's all part of the process. Anyways, I'm getting to something.<br />
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As this year comes to an end, I've been reflecting. I've been thinking of how grateful I am to so many people. I've been thinking about what I want for the upcoming year, what kind of goals I can set for myself. I've said this before, but it bears repeating....I don't set resolutions for myself, but I do like to take the opportunity to start fresh. <a href="http://www.fresyes.com/grab-bag/places-to-visit-in-2016/" target="_blank">Last year I wrote</a> about some places that I wanted to visit throughout the year. Sadly I only made it to 2 out of the 6 places. This year I'm determined to check Yosemite off that list. (But then again, I've been saying that for years.) During my reflecting time, I've come to the realization that I'd like to do more things for myself. It may sound selfish, but well, I think it's time I become a little selfish. I think for so long I've defined myself as a mom, and a single mom at that. For many years I was a student, without a "real" career. Now it's different. I'm ready for more. I'm not just a mom. My kids are at an age where they don't need me as much as they use to. I now have a career that I love. I've helped at church for the past few years, but took some time off this Fall. I'm now ready to dive in again. My desire to write has returned. I feel refreshed and ready to go. I've started taking cooking classes at Whole Foods, and I LOVE them. I've taken 3 classes, all alone, and I've met some really fun people. I've started to say yes to things. This is tricky because I say yes a lot in general, but now I'm saying yes intentionally, without feeling like I <i>should</i> do x,y, or z. The same goes for no. I'm saying no without guilt. (Okay, this is me, let's be honest...I have some guilt, but I'm working on it.)<br />
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Over the last couple of years I've been given so much that now it's my turn to give. I'm entering into a new season, and I'm excited for what's to come. I'm looking forward to the year ahead. I'm looking forward to new relationships, new beginnings. I'm looking forward to the time I get to spend with my loved ones. I'm looking forward to what I can do for God, and how I can become closer to Him. And yes, this is all very Pollyanna-ish. I know that life will throw me some curveballs. I know that there will be days where life sucks. I know that I will cry from hurt, and I know that I will face difficult decisions. However, I know that I will have love and support during those times. How do I know that? Because I've experienced it. If 2016 thought me nothing, it has taught me that there is good in the midst of crap.<br />
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So, while so many people are happy to say goodbye to 2016, I'm thankful for what it brought me. It brought me closer to my grandparents, and I was here when they needed me most. I have a good job that I love. I have a special someone in my life, whom I cherish, and I'm looking forward to the road we're traveling down. I have a closer relationship to God. I have amazing kids who try their best and don't make life too, too difficult for me. I have friends and family whom I love so much. I'm choosing to remember all the good from this year, and I'm taking it with me into the new year ahead.<br />
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Happy 2017!<br />
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<br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-68084498985363635742015-02-01T12:46:00.000-08:002015-02-01T12:46:04.249-08:00The Weight Of It All<div>
The topic is in the news. It's on TV, Facebook, in the magazines. It's everywhere. </div>
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What is "it" you ask? It's the subject of weight. </div>
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Yes, it's a bit of a touchy subject. I have mixed feelings about the topic. I have a love/hate relationship with this topic. You see, I am not a size 0. I'm not even a size 9. I'd feel like a dang super model if I were a size 9 again.</div>
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I've had a long struggle with my weight. I've never really liked my body, even when I was skinnier. I've had lots of people in my life give me hell for the way I look. Let's see...How far back should I go? My earliest memory of not feeling comfortable with myself was when I was 8. Then again, when I was 10. My grandma had purchased some clothes for me, without me being there. She meant well, as the event I needed clothes for required that I look my best. The clothes were tight and super uncomfortable. I don't know why either one of us didn't think to take them back and get the right size. Anyway, it was the beginning of it. Junior high was rough, I was picked on for all sorts of reasons. Once I entered high school, I thought things would change. I thought kids would stop being mean, and I would stop being made fun of. You know, everyone would get older, become more wise. Ha. I was so naive. Freshman year I was called "Bagel" by a boy because I was, "Round like a bagel." I attached my value to my size. Boys would only like me if I were skinny enough, right? Funny, looking back I wasn't even fat. I just wasn't skinny. Those are two very different things. </div>
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I think because I never really saw value in myself, when someone else did, whether it was right or not, I held on to that. Thus began my struggle to find a healthy relationship with a man. I got married when I was young, meeting him when I was only 18. We didn't have a great relationship, but as far as I can remember, he didn't call me fat. Having said that, he would tell me things like, "You don't need french fries." I knew he didn't like my body. So, once we divorced, I went on a diet. Well, it was the unhealthy version of a diet. I pretty much stopped eating, and began working out. I would have a protein shake for breakfast, then a Lean Cuisine in the afternoon. That was it. I'd drink tea for the rest of the day. During that time I went to the gym around 5 times a week. Guess what? I lost weight! I was probably at the skinniest point of my adult life. But was I healthy? </div>
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At this point I was still connecting my value to my weight. I thought that in order to get the perfect husband, I'd have to be super skinny and then someone would love me. In fact, that was the message I was getting. I had a co-worker tell me that once I started losing more weight, I'd have all sorts of guys asking me out. Well, he was right. It was during this time I met John's father. I got pregnant and we got married. Since he only knew me skinny (until pregnancy weight hit), he had a hard time when I didn't lose the weight right away. (Hell, I <i>still</i> haven't lost the baby weight, and John's 6!!) I knew he didn't like my body. I would change in private, he rarely saw me naked. <i>I</i> was ashamed of what I looked like because I knew <i>he</i> didn't like what I looked like. </div>
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Fast forward to a couple of years ago. Divorced (please let me be a lesson to you-do the right thing the first time around), and I'd say happy with my body. Well, maybe not happy, but not hating. I was going to the gym. I still wasn't skinny, but I was active. Healthy-ish I'd say. I dated someone who loved me for who I was, no matter my size. He was (still is) a great guy, but I decided I wanted to be alone for a bit. </div>
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It's been during this alone season (2 or 3 years now) that I've been able to really think about things. There are things that are important to me. My relationship with God. My job as a mom. My career. My friends and family. And well, me. I'm important to myself. So, as I've been reflecting, the topic of weight has come up once more. </div>
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I've gained weight again. I keep telling myself I'm okay with it. I mean, I see all these things on Facebook about how you should love yourself no matter what, right? Well, I'm not so sure I'm buying that. Isn't that just something people tell themselves to not make changes? I don't just mean with weight, I mean in all areas of life. Why change anything when we're all okay just how we are? </div>
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I'm not sure I'm okay with how I am. I am, but at the same time I'm not. I'm trying to pinpoint my feelings about this, which is why I'm sharing. For the longest time I've been against weight loss surgery, but recently I've been thinking about it. I go some days thinking that all I need to do is just get a little help to lose weight, then I'll be fine. I can keep it off after that. Then there are days when I think, "No, if people don't like me, screw them!" And that's it. I think I've hit the nail on the head. I'm worried about what others think of me. I still see John's dad often, and I'm willing to bet a million dollars that he thinks I'm fat and ugly. I make fun of myself to others, "No one is going to want me because I'm not a size 0." Or, "I bet they don't have that in my size." Maybe to avoid being hurt by others I beat them to the punch, huh? At the same time, I'm irritated about this. If someone tells me what I <i>should</i> be eating, or how I can lose weight, it makes me not want to-just to be obstinate. Now, this isn't about trying to lose weight to find someone. No, I'm honestly happy with staying single. I'm loving this time with my children and being able to keep my focus on the relationships that matter. I have no desire to seek out someone to share my life with. For reals. This time, I think it's for me. And maybe, just maybe things will be different? </div>
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I don't know. I don't have an answer to any of this. I'm really only thinking out loud. I don't know where I'm going from here. But, I think the best thing to take away from this...Well, there are a couple of lessons. </div>
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1-My value has nothing to do with my weight. </div>
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2-If I want to make changes, I need to make them for myself, not for someone else. </div>
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3-Don't worry about what other people think of me. </div>
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4-Stop putting myself down. </div>
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I think this is a good start, right? </div>
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Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-21694634606168159272015-01-18T18:17:00.000-08:002015-01-18T18:17:20.038-08:00Chores vs No ChoresGrowing up I started doing chores around 8 years old. I remember clearly because I had just returned home from a summer visit with my aunt. I remember telling my mom that I helped out around my aunt's house. (Where I was rewarded with a red bouncy ball-like the one you played with at school.) Well, I kind of regret telling my mom about that. From that point on, I had more chores than a normal 8 year old should have had. <div>
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Fast forward a lot of years to me becoming a mom. There were few things that I felt strongly about, and most of them had to do with connecting to Seren. I learned there was a term for my kind of parenting (Attachment Parenting-not what this post is about, I'm just sharing). There were all sorts of things I knew, in my gut, that I was doing right. Then there were (are) all sorts of things I knew I was doing wrong. Or, even worse, I didn't know if I was doing things right or wrong. I think that's how a lot of parenting goes-just winging it. </div>
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Parenting books cover a wide range of topics-discipline, potty training, feeding the picky eater, how to handle siblings, getting your child to sleep, how to put your child on a schedule, why not to put your child on a schedule, etc...Seriously, there is a topic for just about everything. (Although there are a whole lot of things I wish were covered. I should write <i>that</i> book.) One hot topic I've read about concerns chores and allowance. Many recommendations are for children to have chores. Many of my friends give their children chores. It develops responsibility and independence. Some people say you should give your children an allowance for those chores. Others say that allowance shouldn't be related to chores, that children should just do their chores as being part of the family. Well, this is one area where I'm not sure where I stand. That is, until this weekend. </div>
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I've had mixed feelings about chores. I like to do housework because then things get done how I like them done. If I have my kids do x, y, or z, then chances are things won't be the way I want them done, and then I'd just have to go back and re-do everything. Not only that, but I've wanted my kids to have fun and be kids. I didn't want them to feel how I felt when I did chores as a kid. </div>
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My feelings about this changed this week. I woke up one morning to a super dirty kitchen and living room. There were clothes all over the floor, dishes piled up, cat litter that needed to be changed, laundry to be done, and cluttering that needed to be de-cluttered. I was tired from a long week, and pretty fed up with having to clean up after my kids. (It probably didn't help that I was mad that they were fighting at 6 in the morning.) I'm a single mom, I work, I try to keep engaged with my church, and I like to keep my kids involved. (Church or other things, but not more than one thing a week.) This means that I don't have much time, or energy, to clean my house. Not only that, but I'm starting to feel like a slave to my kids. That's when I knew something had to change. I've always been a firm believer that my children should do things because I've asked them to. I want them to be intrinsically motivated. I don't like to give rewards because they should just do it. Yeah, well, that's not working, that's just not how my kids function. So, while I've been trying to figure out how to not lose my mind, I discovered that I need to get my children more involved. That really is the only way I'm going to stay sane. To get them to do what I want them to do, I feel that I must reward them. I mean really, it only makes sense. Also, this way they will have money to buy things they want. Money that they've earned. </div>
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So this is what I did. I printed out a "chore chart" I found online. There are tons and tons to choose from, and I just found one that is more like a weekly calendar. I like this one because I can add other events for the week, like when John takes the morning bus, or the days he goes to his dad's house. After the week each child earns $5. Okay, it's not a lot, but I've only given them 2 chores each. Seren takes out the trash and washes the towels. John will dust and pick up the clothes off the floor (they're mostly his anyway). Other than the trash, these are chores that don't really need to be done daily, therefore, they get $5. For Seren, since she likes Starbucks, I decided to give her a gift card to Starbucks for her first allowance. Then she can use the app and earn free drinks! The best part? I don't use my Starbucks money on her! Why I didn't think of that sooner is beyond me. Okay, now for the even better part.... I'm charging them money when they fight. I can tune out a whole lot, but when they fight and scream at one another, it makes me crazy. I don't know why it bothers me so much, but I just hate the fighting. Maybe because I didn't fight with my siblings? I don't know. Anyway, when one antagonizes the other-they pay me .25 cents. One starts a fight with the other? .25 cents. Hey, by the end of the week I might have made my money back. ;) Some may say I shouldn't take what they've earned. But guess what? I'm doing it anyway, so there. </div>
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I've been charging them for about a week and a half now, but the chores just started this weekend. And you know what? What a relief! Not having to take out the trash? Lovely. Seren's actually done 2 loads of laundry this weekend, and it's so nice to have one less thing to stress over. </div>
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Funny how my thoughts on certain things have changed. I think that's also another part of parenting, right? It has to evolve as your children evolve. </div>
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So tell me, do (did) your children have chores? How has it worked for you and your family? </div>
Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-55045876681958552272015-01-06T16:57:00.002-08:002015-01-06T16:57:29.061-08:00Welcoming 2015<div style="text-align: center;">
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Well, I feel like a bad blogger. Do people even blog nowadays? I'm pretty sure I share all my thoughts on Facebook. I'm also sure those who read this are all my Facebook friends anyway, so......<br />
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Having said all that, I feel the need to talk more than usual today.<br />
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I've been thinking a lot about this week, last week, and what's ahead in the coming weeks.<br />
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A few months back we had a guest speaker at church. She was talking about how the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years. Think about that time, the waiting, that transition period for them. What were the people doing during this time? Were they spending all their time looking ahead or looking back? Then she said....What about us? What do we do during our transition time? Do we continually look forward to what's to come? You know, like "I can't wait for x, y, or z to happen." Do we look back to where we've been? "I wish things were how they were last year." What about the now? The present. What should I be doing during this time? What should I be praying about? Focusing on?<br />
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<a href="http://organomics.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Being-Present.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://organomics.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Being-Present.jpg" width="400" /></a>This really hit home with me. Instead of spending all of my energy looking ahead, I should stay in the present. Enjoy it. I heard this message right in the midst of my work troubles. Well, not troubles so much as lack of hours. At the beginning of last year, I started a new full time job-with benefits and all. As June came around, I was reduced to about 12 hours a week. Going from 40 to 12 hours a week was quite difficult financially. I was hopeful that after summer, I would possibly go back to full time? Sadly, that was not the case. I did increase my hours to about 14 a week, but well, 2 hours more a week isn't really worth mentioning. Needless to say, I was worried about my bills. I was constantly looking for a different job, even though I love where I work. But really, I needed something that was going to make more money. I was constantly worried, but didn't really tell anyone. I just kept up my positive attitude, and hoped for the best. And guess what? Each month I was financially taken care of. A friend had paid me back money I had forgotten I had loaned her. My mom and grandparents gave me money for my kids' birthday parties. Friends gave me gift cards to grocery stores. Things just fell into place, but I was still looking forward, hoping for a better job. Or just hoping to be out of this mess. Here I am, with this wonderful opportunity to spend more time with my kids, and I was spending that time being worried. I had all this extra time to help Seren in her homeschooling endeavors, yet I've spent a lot of it worried and looking ahead. So, the moment I heard this message, I was kind of slapped back into reality. I realized that I need to be in the moment. Focus on what God has given me now. The opportunity to spend all this time with Seren and John. I've have time to get things in order around my house. I've had time to be here for Seren in ways that she's really needed me. I've been able to volunteer in John's classroom.<br />
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I've really using this time to focus on my children. Just being with my children. Praying. Listening. Just being in this season of life.<br />
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And next week this will come to an end.<br />
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I've gotten a second job teaching at a local community college. How exciting, right?!! The nice thing, is that with my current job, and this new job, I'll be working only 21 hours a week. This means I'll be able to pay my bills, as well as still spend time with my children. I'm super excited about that. I will be spending these last few days of vacation preparing and just being with my children, being thankful for this time in my life. I'm not going to lie, it's been a difficult last 6 months, but I've made it through with the help of my friends, family, and church. Seriously. My heart is so filled with gratitude, beyond any words I can express. I've been prayed for and uplifted. When I thought I was going to lose my dang mind, I received emotional help. Being a single mom can be hard at times, and without the support of others, I'm sure I'd be a hot mess.<br />
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So, here's to a new year and new adventures. I'm excited for what's to come, but I don't ever want to lose focus on the present. This present season is just as important as where I've been and where I'll be going. <br />
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<br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-10338475876357025162014-09-22T21:21:00.002-07:002014-09-22T21:21:52.926-07:004 Years<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Well today is the day.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Today it has been 4 years since Seren's dad has passed away. Last night I was looking at old photos, having mixed feelings. Even though 4 years have passed, the pain is sometimes still as fresh. Seren is still at the age where she's affected by his loss, but can't quite put her feelings into words. I wasn't sure if I should remind her of this day, as she tends to get a bit grouchy, and honestly, I'd like to avoid it. However, I did. We talked about it last week, and then again this morning. I asked her if she wanted to do anything and she didn't really have any ideas. So we didn't do anything, and that's okay too. Overall, it was an okay day. I spoke with Dean's mom. I looked at some pictures. I remembered him. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I see him in Seren all the time. The way she walks, the occasional look she'll give me or a certain mannerism. She has his attitude and personality, as well as his big ole feet! ;) So, even though he may be gone, he's living on in her. Not just her, but in his son. His death brought Seren and Derek (Dean's son) together. I wish they would have made a connection before Dean had passed, but I suppose it wasn't meant to be. However, I know he was in a better place in his life, where he would have been so happy to share his life with his son. I guess that's the thing about death, it's unfair. It sucks. It hurts and it leaves a forever pain. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">So, as today may have been a difficult one, it was also a good time to reflect. Seren may not have her dad, but she has me and lots of other family and friends who love her to pieces. </span><br />
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Here's to another year. </div>
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<br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-6094019516042814602014-09-14T19:16:00.000-07:002014-09-14T19:16:54.487-07:00Dreams For My KidsToday Seren and I were suppose to help out in the Nursery during Sunday School time at church. Well, there were no kids in there, so we left and went to listen to some young adults who shared about their summer mission experience.While listening to them talk, I was thinking back to my first year in college. I went to a college of the Christian and Missionary Alliance denomination. Really, I didn't know what that meant, and I didn't even know what it was about until after I was there for a while. All I knew going into it was that I was going to a Christian College. Turns out the school focuses on missionary work...hence the denomination. During the year I geared up to attend a missions trip to San Francisco. Sadly, I did not take my first year of college seriously, and my grades suffered, so I did not get to go on my trip. This is one of my regrets, not taking my first year of higher education seriously. Anyway, while I was listening to the young adults speak this morning, I couldn't help but think of how excited I was when I was planning for a mission's trip. I then got excited for my kids. These young adults are someone's children. They are experiencing life, traveling and helping people. I couldn't help but wonder if Seren or John would ever do that. <div>
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I have no idea what my children want to be when the get older. John has told me that he wants to be a "finder, police officer or a man wrestler." So really, there's no telling. ;) And, he's only 5, so he doesn't know. Seren, on the other hand, is getting older to where she might be thinking about this kind of stuff. I know she loves animals, and maybe she could do something to help them. She's also been wanting to help out a lot at church in the different children's areas. A couple of weeks ago she helped me with the preschool kids. Over the summer she helped with Vacation Bible School. She's always loved being in the nursery with the babies. The other night she told me she really loved little kids. Maybe she'll want to be a teacher or work in a daycare? I don't know. Once she told me she wanted to move to London when she finished college. To think about her future is exciting. She could be anything she wants. I think where I have a problem is that I'm going to have to stand aside and let her make her own decisions. That's the hard part about parenting, right? I think of all the stupid things I've done, and how my family advised me against most of them. (The ones they didn't advise me against are the ones I didn't tell them about.) That's a difficult thought. What if she decides to live a life I don't approve of? What if she goes away and I don't see her for months or even years? Same thing with John. I think that's why all I do now is important. The love and guidance I give her now is essential to her future. Not to say that she's still not going to do what she wants to do, but at least I can have no regrets when she enters adulthood, you know? </div>
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Now to look back and reflect on how I've been as a mother.....That's a whole 'nother blog post for a whole 'nother day! </div>
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Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-73231196612045061092014-06-13T11:14:00.000-07:002014-06-13T11:14:00.394-07:00The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner & Saint<div style="text-align: center;">
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I started reading this book a few weeks back. It was recommended to me by a friend, and she was right, the book was amazing. This book, Pastrix by, Nadia Bolz-Weber was a very interesting read. It's about a woman's journey to becoming a woman pastor in a Lutheran Church. Her church House for All Sinners and Saints is open and welcoming to everyone. Every. One. Gay people, transgender people, older folks, people with tattoos, people who were/are addicted to drugs and alcohol. Everyone.<br />
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Nadia talks about grace, forgiveness, resurrection and change. There were times when I wished I wasn't going to share this book with others, because I wanted to highlight this book like I was a college student taking notes on life.<br />
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Here are some of my favorite points:<br />
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<li>When we are on a path of self-destruction, God will pick us up, kicking and screaming and plunks us down on an entirely different path. (p.40)</li>
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<li>God makes beautiful things out of our own crap. God loves us too much to let our sin define us. (p.50)</li>
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<li>We go to God for answers, but instead what we get is God's presence. (p.86)</li>
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<li>Hatred is a form of spiritual bondage. (p.115)</li>
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<li>God is in the midst of everything, including death. </li>
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<li>Resurrection is dirty. I like the description used, that when Mary Magdalene saw Jesus in the tomb, after he had risen, she didn't recognize him. She thought that he was a gardener. Nadia suggests that perhaps it was because Jesus had dirt under his nails. Think about being resurrected. Do you think it would be a clean thing? This transfers to life and our own resurrections. When we change and become a different/new person, it is a dirty process. Sometimes we go kicking and screaming, sometimes we are faced with things in our own lives that we just don't want to let go of. </li>
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And that's what this book has done to me-it has brought to life some of my own ugliness that I just don't want to let go of. First on my list, hatred and forgiveness. (I think they go hand in hand.) For some people in my life it is so hard to offer them forgiveness. I like how Nadia (like how I'm on a first name basis with her) stated it in this book that when we forgive someone it breaks us from the bond of that links us. "What if forgiveness, rather than being a pansy way of saying it's OK, is actually a way of wielding bolt cutters and snapping the chain that links us?" (p.150) When I don't forgive someone, I'm still connected to that person. The hard part about that is what do I do when that person continues to still do stupid stuff to me, or continues to make my life difficult? I'm not sure what the answer is to that, but I do feel the need to cut myself free from the bondage of hate I feel for some people. I have to forgive them. I don't want to though, I want to stay mad and wallow in my anger. I want them to pay or to know how much they have hurt me. I want them to remember the pain they've caused me, because let's be honest, they are not good people. But then I think, who am I? Who makes me better than the next person? If God can forgive me and all the horrible things I've done, then God can (and does) forgive lots of other people. Why am I allowed God's forgiveness and grace, but people I do not like are not? They are. I hate to say that, but they are. The forgiveness I give to those in my life will have to come from God, because I just can't do it on my own. Thankfully, I know my own limits. ;)<br />
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This book really did change how I see some things. I'm really glad I took my friend up on her suggestion.<br />
<br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-49840905801592797672014-01-24T11:56:00.001-08:002014-01-24T11:57:36.677-08:00Why I decided to HomeschoolYes, you read that right. I am now homeschooling Seren. This may come as a shock to just about all of you, but I have good reasons for deciding to do so.<br />
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This has been a very tough year for Seren. Up until this year, she's gotten good grades. She's scored high on all of her state tests. Overall she's done well by public school standards. This years started off rough. She had a change in friendships, she didn't get into some of the extra curricular activities that her school offers, and she didn't like her teacher. Of course, none of this is terrible. But then her grades started to slip, and when I say slip, I mean they were bad. She was becoming more and more unhappy while at school. She came home crying on many occasions. I spoke with her teacher on numerous accounts, all leading no where. I thought a change of classroom might help, but the way the school is set up, once you're in a class, you're pretty much stuck there. School had turned into a miserable experience for Seren. </div>
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I really sat with this. School for me was easy. It was a place for me to escape. I loved going to school. Seren's dad did not have the same experiences with school as I did. He was smart, but he really struggled. I don't want that for Seren. I want Seren to flourish. </div>
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So, I started thinking about my options. We had talked about homeschooling a couple of years ago, but she wanted to keep trying at her school. And you know, I love her school. In fact, I pray John gets to go there. However, it's all done by lottery, and so far, he's not gotten in. Although, he's an easy going kid, he'll be fine no matter where he is. Anyway, when things started to get rough again, I really took to homeschooling as an option. I spoke with her about it, and this time she was willing. </div>
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I went to her school to withdraw her and I was sad. I started crying when I left her classroom, carrying all of her books. While I was emptying out her desk, some students were asking where Seren was. These were kids who I've known since Kindergarten, just about 7 years. I feel like I've watched a lot of these children grow. I really struggled with moving Seren from this school. I remember moving from school to school when I was little. I was the new kid often. I wanted more stability for Seren. I wanted her to be at the same school from K-8th grade, and then the same high school from 9th-10th. I wanted her to graduate with friends from Kindergarten. I wanted these years to be years where she's grown and learned so much about herself, blossomed as a person and tried all these fun school activities. However, that's not who Seren is. She marches to a beat of a different drum, as the saying goes. She's quiet and shy. I think she thinks people don't like her, but I bet her peers liked her more than she thought they did. The thing about Seren is that she doesn't do well with stress. She cannot function under pressure. Not only that, but she doesn't use her voice to get her needs met. If she's struggling with a question, she won't let on that she's struggling. So what began to suffer was her grades. I had hoped that would be enough of an incentive to motivate her, but it didn't. Instead, I think it suffocated her. </div>
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In an effort to not allow my daughter be brought down by education, I decided it would be best for me to educate her, and so I pulled her out of school. It kind of happened quickly. I had to really let go of my dreams of how I wanted things to be, and remember that sometimes change is a good thing. So maybe she doesn't go on awesome field trips. Maybe choir is over with for now (although she's in choir at church), which means no more performances. But really, is that the end of the world for now? Perhaps this is just for a season, a semester or two? Maybe I keep her home until high school. I don't really know what it looks like. I do know that she's happier already. She's been doing school work for me without any problems. Of course, this is new, so check back with me in a week or two. ;) </div>
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So, this single, full time working, momma is taking on a new role-homeschooling. It's kind of funny, because I believe in public school. I am an educator by heart. I know public school works. It just isn't working for Miss Seren right now. So, cheers to what the rest of the year holds for us! Also, I know I have lots of resources, as I have many friends who homeschool, but if you have any suggestions or advice, I welcome it. :) </div>
Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-20974581420801998162013-12-31T21:38:00.001-08:002013-12-31T21:54:13.654-08:00Saying goodbye to 2013, and welcoming in 2014!Today I went to a funeral for a friend from my library days. She passed away, on Christmas Eve, from cancer. The place where her service was held was filled with people. Seriously, filled. I think there were even some people standing outside in the hall. Makes me wonder what the turn out of my funeral will be like. Anyway, everything was going along just fine, until I saw her 3 year old son sitting with family. That's when I started crying. I kept thinking of what I would do if I were my friend. How would I handle my last days with my children? Would I spend the time crying? Would I plan out what I would want for their future? Would I just sit and hug them? I don't know how she spent her last moments with her family, but I imagine they were with dignity and grace. This is a hard time of year to lose someone you love. I pray for her family and friends who miss her.<br />
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With the passing of my friend, I've been thinking a lot about what's really important to me. It just so happens to coincide with the beginning of a new year. Last year I started doing this thing I saw on Pinterest. Whenever Seren or myself had something we were thankful for, we wrote it down and put it in a vase. Tonight we decided to open up all of our thankful papers and read them. It was nice to look back over the year, and remember all of the love.<br />
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Here is our thankful list:<br />
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<u>Seren's List</u><br />
Made friends with Jessica.<br />
Got really good electives.<br />
I got into concert choir!<br />
Going to Santa Cruz.<br />
Stopped having bloody noses.<br />
School is out!<br />
Started to like Hot Cheetos.<br />
Discovered a new dessert.<br />
(A flour tortilla microwaved with chocolate chips and powdered sugar on top.)<br />
Made a super fun lantern at school for Valentine's Day.<br />
Finished both Awana books.<br />
Got an iPhone.<br />
Went to Boomers for reward trip for school.<br />
Seren won Crazy Hat Night at Awana.<br />
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<u>My List</u><br />
Got flowers delivered to my work.<br />
Graduation and graduation party with friends and family.<br />
Mom and Russell came to visit.<br />
John started Awana.<br />
I became an Awana leader.<br />
LA trip with Megan, Seren and Amber.<br />
Days with Stephanie and Megan.<br />
Family went to Santa Cruz.<br />
Mama went to Israel!<br />
Saw Amani in Israel.<br />
Concerts with Megan.<br />
Such love from women at church.<br />
Aunt Lisa came to visit.<br />
Great love from friends at Bible Study.<br />
Had an amazing experience at the Woman's Retreat.<br />
Became a member of my church.<br />
Visited with Tarah.<br />
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What a list!!! We have had such an amazing year! Even through the difficult times (which we've had), we've still been able to find reasons to be thankful. I know I've learned from each experience I've had this year. I'm looking forward to doing this again, and to get John involved as well.<br />
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I'm looking forward to what 2014 brings. If nothing else, I hope it brings love, sweets and cupcakes! :)<br />
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<br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-19439175856004172542013-11-24T18:28:00.003-08:002013-11-24T18:28:56.438-08:00Being ThankfulWell, first of all, I can't believe it's been so long since I've posted anything here. I'm surprised I remembered how to log in and all. ;) I blame Facebook for my inactivity. It's just so much easier to write a little blurb there, than it is to sit and blog. However, today I felt a need to write more than a paragraph, so blogging it is. :)<br />
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Today was a special day for me. Today I became a member of my church. A real, official, bona fide member. This was an important decision for me because I've not ever been a true member of a church. I've attended many churches over the years, but I've never made a commitment to say I wanted to be an active member.<br />
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I've been going to my church for about 6 years or so. I took about a year off to go to church with my ex-husband, and I kept going there while I was going through the final stages of my divorce. The pastor's wife really counseled me and helped me through some of my struggles. Even though I was attending a different church for a bit, Seren was still attending Awana at First Pres. Seren has always, always, always loved First Pres. Even from the very beginning. If you know Seren, she's not one who is easily comfortable with new surroundings. So, for her to like a new place right from the get go, that says a lot. Not only did Seren like the church from the beginning, but so did I. The services are always comforting. My soul is always fed and I long to be there.<br />
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Even though I've experienced a lot of good, I've also had my share of bad things happen. Seren's dad died. The ugliness of my divorce from John's dad started. During each instance, the women of the church stepped up to help me. I've had so much support. I've had dinners made for me. I've been prayed for. I've met with our associate pastor. They've provided a pastor for Dean's funeral. I've vented and vented and vented to anyone who would listen. I've shared personal stories. I've cried. Through everything, I've felt supported. I've not at all felt judged. I've felt loved. I feel like First Pres is my home, and the people are my family.<br />
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Today's message was about Generous Gratitude. The passage shared was from John 12, when Mary took perfume and poured it on Jesus' feet. She was so very thankful that she used her very expensive perfume to show her gratitude.<br />
These were the notes I took:<br />
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<ul>
<li>When we are thankful, we have the sweet fragrance of Jesus. </li>
<li>Fragrance of worship.</li>
<li>Be generous in your gratitude. </li>
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The pastor asked us where our hearts were at. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I think, perhaps, that God may be trying to tell me a thing or two about being thankful. 2 weeks ago we had a speaker during Awana. She was talking about being thankful and she asked us what we were thankful for. My first thought was, "Nothing! I'm poor, I don't have a good job. My daughter is having a rough year. I'm struggling with my ex. Nope, not thankful." (In writing it out, it looks even worse than just thinking it!) During that time God really started to work on my heart. Shame on me for not being thankful for anything.<br />
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Fast forward to today. We got little leafs in our church bulletin that said, "I am thankful for..." We wrote down something we were thankful for and turned them in. People also stood up and shared things that they were thankful for. Even though I gave myself a talking to a couple weeks back, I still struggled with coming up with something to be thankful for. Crazy, right? Seren knew right away. She said she was thankful for her pets. Ah, that girl loves her animals. She's really trying to convince me to let her get a corn snake. It's not happening, but I admire her tenacity.<br />
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I digress.<br />
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I've been walking around for the past month or so in a funk. I've been disappointed (discouraged, upset) about not getting a couple of jobs I've really wanted. I feel stuck in my current job. I have this desire to make more money by getting a job that would be better for me and my family. It's not happening, and I'm becoming cranky about it. I'm the opposite of what the pastor said. Instead of having the sweet fragrance of Jesus in my life, I'm walking around stinking like sour grapes. (Wait, wouldn't that just be wine? Wine smells good. Bad analogy. ;)) If I just changed my attitude and became thankful for what I do have, instead of being a brat about what I don't have, then it would make a world of difference.<br />
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So, I decided to make a list. I like lists. I've made a list of things that I am thankful for.<br />
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My children. They have both saved me.<br />
I don't struggle with addictions to drinking or drugs. Cupcakes, well, that's another story. ;)<br />
I've not given up. I push through. Someone once told me that I was a strong kid. I'd like to think that strong kid has turned into a strong adult.<br />
My grandparents.<br />
My aunt and uncle.<br />
I'm not sick. Okay, this makes me laugh for more reasons than one. I just mean I'm healthy. Sort of. I could stand to lose some weight, but overall, I have my health.<br />
I have the absolute best friends.<br />
God's grace.<br />
Being saved. This has many meanings, which will stay close to my heart.<br />
My job. Even though I really, really, really want a new job, I'm thankful for the one I <i>do</i> have now. This job came along right when I needed it. Sometimes I wonder if I should just give up on even looking for anything different. I like my co-workers. I like where I work. I love the customers. If only I made more money and had health insurance. But guess what? Some people don't even have a job. I'm thankful that I do.<br />
My church family.<br />
Today's message. It was just what I needed to hear.<br />
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Even though I've felt like my life has been difficult recently, I have so much to be thankful for. Being cynical is not who I am. Being grouchy is not who I am. I have moments of both, but I'm thinking a lot of people do. I can't be happy all the time. However, I <i>can</i> have a thankful heart.<br />
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That is what I long for. This may just be a lesson I've been needing to learn.<br />
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Today was a perfect day to become a member. I was able to express my gratitude to the church by joining the church. :)Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-71325090067455863632013-04-01T23:31:00.000-07:002013-04-01T23:31:13.207-07:00RememberingThe last time I wrote I had just come home from Bible Study. I believe it was the beginning of our series in Galatians. I'm going to be a bit honest here and say that the past few weeks I've been having a difficult time connecting with the text. I was really hoping that tonight would be a night where I would have my eyes and ears opened to what God may be trying to tell me.<br />
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Be careful what you wish for.<br />
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Tonight our focus was on Galatians 4:21-31. During these verses Paul is talking about Hagar and Sarah, and how one son was born to a slave, and how one was born to a free woman. Verse 31 says, "Therefore, brothers, we are not children of the slave woman, but of the free woman." Paul has been telling the Galatians that their salvation is not based on works (the law), but by grace and faith. This story of Hagar and Sarah was just another example. Often times we (the royal we...people in general) will try to take matters into their own hands, instead of waiting and having faith in God. I've done it myself. In Sarah's story, her and Abraham decided not to wait on God when it came to having children. God told Abraham he would have a child, even though Abraham was, let's say, up there in age. Since his wife, Sarah was not getting pregnant, she told Abraham to sleep with her maidservant, Hagar. From this union, Ishmael was born. Instead of waiting on God, Abraham and Sarah decided that they knew best. Again, God went to Abraham and told him that Sarah was going to bear him a son. And even though Abraham didn't think it would happen, it did, and Isaac was born. (This is my cliff note version of the text, feel free to read up on it yourself, in Genesis 15-21.) All this to say, when things don't happen in our time, we often take the reigns away from God and try to take control. And sometimes, there are consequences for doing this. Other times, we realize what we have in mind for ourselves is not necessarily what God has in mind for us, and we follow his path.<br />
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The person leading the bible study is the pastor's wife. I've really grown fond of her. She seems like someone who I could just sit and talk with. I don't know her at all, but I'd like to. I know I could learn a lot from her. As she was sharing her story about how she had a plan for her life, it was not God's plan for her life. While she was sharing, I was getting teary eyed. I was reflecting back on my life, and how I ended up here. Let me preface what I'm about to write and say, I truly believe I'm where I need to be. I feel that I've learned many lesson along the way. I'm a different person than who I was 16 years ago. (Thankfully.) I know that all the things I've been through have helped mold me into who I am now. However, I can't help but think sometimes, how my life could have been different. While I was listening tonight, I was thinking about something I wrote in 1st or 2nd grade. Maybe 3rd. I don't really know.<br />
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If you can't read it, it says, "When I am twenty four years old I will be a teacher. Then when I get off from work I will spend some time with my boyfriend. My boyfriend is going to marry me and go on a honeymoon. And I'll kiss my husband!" (I love that I used an exclamation point. Even then I wrote with enthusiasm.)<br />
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This made me think about two things... 1-I knew early on I wanted to teach. 2- I had a desire to be married.<br />
<br />I had a difficult childhood. I won't go into details, as I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but I will say, I spent a lot of time looking for love. I don't necessarily mean from the opposite sex, but as I got older, that's what it turned into. I also don't mean that I went from one guy to the other. No, I was (and still am) not a floozy. But I did want a boyfriend. And when I got older, I wanted a husband. My first year of college I went to a private Christian college. I was going to go on a missions trip, and I was finding who I was in the Lord. However, I still had this longing to be loved by someone. That someone turned out to be Seren's dad. And even though I don't think he ever truly loved me, he was someone to fill the void. Our relationship was not a good one. I knew we weren't meant for each other, but I still stayed. It wasn't until I had Seren that I got the courage to leave. Not because I wanted better for me, but because I wanted better for my daughter. You see, I didn't see my own value.<br />
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A year or two went by before I started dating, but during that time, instead of turning back to God, I kept wishing for a man to love me. I dated here and there. Met lots of crazies, and some semi-nice ones. I have fond memories of some men. I also have creepy memories of others. It was during this time I became pregnant with John. I married his dad because we both thought it was the right thing to do. (Note to self: Do not marry because of a child. Lesson learned.) That relationship was no bueno. However, during the most difficult times of this relationship, is when I grew the closest to God. Seriously. When we divorced, it was awful. Very weird how this divorce was worse from the first, even though I was with Seren's dad longer. This July will be 2 years since I've been divorced from John's dad. During those 2 years a great many thing has happened to me.<br />
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It may seem that I've gotten off on a tangent, but I haven't. Tonight, during a simple read of 10 verses of scripture, I remembered all of this. I remembered how I had dreams to be a teacher. I had dreams of being married. I had dreams of doing big and grand things for God. And guess what? I took matters into my own hands on most of these dreams, yet neglected doing things for God. Instead of waiting on God to give me the perfect (for me) husband, I tried to find one myself. (Hey, I even found 2, I am quite the overachiever!!) I made choices that have led me astray from being in the classroom as a teacher. I've done things kinda wonky. But guess what? I'm in the awesome bible study that reminds me of God's love. And tonight, while we were reflecting, the pastor's wife asked us if there was something God was pointing out to us, where we try to take control, but He is reminding us to have faith instead. My answer was yes, there is something. I know this may seem silly to some, especially since there are others in this world, even at my table, who have bigger issues than I do, but for me, I need to stop searching for a relationship. That seems crazy typing it out. This is the reason why the person who I was just dating is not part of my life anymore. In a boyfriend sense. At the beginning of the year I made a conscious choice to stop living for others, but for myself. Since I made that decision, I've been so much happier with being alone. Don't get me wrong. I actually had a wonderful relationship with my ex-boyfriend. He was very nice to me. I can't say a single negative thing about him. I just wanted something different. I want some time to grow closer to God. I feel that I want to focus on this relationship right now.<br />
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While bible study was closing up, the pastor's wife asked how others can encourage us in whatever it is we're struggling with. We came up with all sorts of different ways we encourage one another. Then, at the very end, a friend of mine gave me this magnet. It summed up the whole evening for me.<br />
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Right now I'm celebrating my good friends. Those who love me. I'm celebrating getting my Master's diploma in the mail today. I'm celebrating all around me who have supported me. Tonight, while I was looking for that paper I wrote in grade school, I came upon a letter written to me some 14 years ago. It was from my best friend's grandma. </div>
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This is what she wrote:</div>
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<i>Hi Tiff “with an I”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>So very happy to hear from you and most of all-that you are
back at home and the very best news, being back in school. We sure hope you are
going to be a teacher-good ones are badly needed and my dear child-you would be
so perfect for the children. Put everything that you have inside of you into
yourself for awhile-which indeed is a great deal of the best of values and
heart, abilities and the desire, and strong work ethics, and get your education
for yourself. You are a wonderful lovely young lady and we are so very happy
for you. Stay strong little one and know that we love you and wish you the best
in your life. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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What encouraging words! </div>
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<br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-84930569951186185132013-01-29T21:36:00.003-08:002013-01-29T21:36:47.213-08:00Desires Of My HeartWhen the beginning of the year rolled around, everyone was making resolutions. I don't tend to make resolutions much. Well, not at the beginning of the year anyway. I am more apt to seek out growth after a specific season change. For example: My birthday, a death, divorce, marriage, a new relationship, the end of relationship, new friends.... You get it.<br />
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The beginning of the year held some change for me (not the coin kind). Actually, it started around Christmas. There was something stirring inside of me. Some sort of longing? Desire? Confusion? It took me a while to figure out what that stirring was. During that time, someone important to me mentioned that this year he was going to have the motto that "cash was king." Not that he wanted more of it, but if he didn't have the cash to buy something, he didn't need it. He was no longer going to buy things on credit. He then asked me what my motto for the year was.<br />
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Hmmmm, good question. I didn't know.<br />
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Right around that same time, the movie Eat Pray Love came on TV. I own the movie, and have read the book, but when a movie comes on TV, it's almost more fun to watch. I loved the book. I read it at a very important time in my life. In the book Liz learns about her "word." A word that defines who she is. Everyone has their own word. It got me thinking about what my word would be, right along with what my motto of the year should be. Could my word be perseverance? No, that was last year. How about firework? Nope, that was the year before that. No, I had no idea what my word would be.<br />
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Then last night happened. I started a new bible study group. I haven't been to a bible study in probably 6 years. I've been part of small groups and one on one studies, but not a big woman's bible study like that. I was really looking forward to the study, as I like the book of the bible we're reading and I love the company. During one of the readings two words really caught my attention...chosen and predestined. I love that word. Predestined. I almost feel like it means where I'm at, is where I'm suppose to be. That may not make any sense, but to me it does. I often think of how life could have been different for me if I had done x, y or z, instead of a, b and c. And even though I feel I've made many mistakes, this path I'm on is the path I'm suppose to be on.<br />
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That weird feeling I had at the beginning of the year? It was the stirring of my soul. At the time I hadn't been to church in quite a while. Say a year or so? Yeah, I think the last church service I had attended was Christmas 2011. Just because I stopped going to church doesn't mean I stopped believing in God. No, not at all. I'm always searching, seeking and seeing. I will say, though, I think I was being lazy about actually going to church. I kept telling myself, "Going to church doesn't make you a Christian." True, but still. Anyway, my soul was missing church. Missing the connections. Missing the music. Missing the guidance. So, on my second day back at church, I got a flier about the bible study. I knew this is where I needed to be.<br />
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Last night was the first bible study. Afterwards, I came home and began thinking about my "word" again. What defines me? What is my goal for the year? What do I want? Well, quite frankly I want to make myself happy. It sounds very selfish, I know. However, I've been doing for others for quite some time, not to mention school and work. I've been a busy bee. This year I'm looking forward to doing some things I want to do. Things to better my life. You know, taking care of my health, finding a job in my field of work, growing spiritually, maintaining my friendships. It really boils down to loving each moment of life.<br />
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For the past year I've been in a very good place. I met a wonderful man, who treated me with kindness and love. I was happy with work (most days), busy with school and just happy with life. This year I feel is going to be a happy year as well. Maybe happy is my word. Or me. I like me. I also like predestined. I may not know my word, but I do know my motto for the year and it comes from a verse in Psalm's. "Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37: 3-5) This doesn't mean my desire to have a brand new car. No, it means my true desires. My desire to do some things for myself, which include spending time with God. My desire to be a better mom. My desire to be a better person. The new car would just be a bonus. ;)<br />
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Anyway, this year I've decide to seek out the desires of my heart, whatever they may be.Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-82651638598559086102013-01-06T16:02:00.001-08:002013-01-06T16:02:25.093-08:00Ice Skating!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This year our local downtown area opened up an ice skating rink. When they first started talking about it, I thought it was a silly idea, because we are in the Central Valley, not the Mid West, where it's snowing during the winter. Do people in Fresno even know how to ice skate? </div>
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Yes, yes they do. </div>
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I was very skeptical about the whole experience. I've roller skated with Seren, and it was not a fun event. She got frustrated and didn't want to skate. I was worried that was going to happen during ice skating. Guess what? There was no drama! Getting started was a bit tricky, since there were not enough buckets for her to push. Thankfully I had some for John, so I just had them take turns. </div>
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All in all it was so much fun! Both kids fell down, but they both got back up without any tears. I was super proud of them both. They loved it! </div>
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The lighting made picture taking difficult, but here are some of the best. This is the only one you'll see of me, since my feet and ankles hurt after only one go around the rink. It didn't help that I have no idea what I was doing. </div>
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Half time! ;) The kids loved watching the Zamboni go by. </div>
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Miss Serensita doing her best!</div>
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Look at that smile! :)</div>
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John-John having a blast. He really had so much fun. </div>
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Love, love, love that smile. </div>
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Serensita go, go going. :)</div>
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I'm so happy Seren convinced me to take them skating. It really was a fun event. The kids loved it. There were lots of skaters helping other skaters when they fell. It was so nice to see the community having fun and helping others. It was such a fun night! :)</div>
<br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7361552.post-61960343477042773622013-01-05T14:34:00.000-08:002013-01-05T14:34:35.421-08:00I'm baaaaack!Did ya miss me? ;)<br />
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I took some time away from my blog to focus on finishing school. I'm proud to say that after a long 4 months, I am now all done! I now have my Master's in Education! At times I can't believe that I'm all done. School has been part of my life for many, many years. I've been a student through marriages, divorces, children, single parenthood, work. Yet through it all, I've accomplished a degree. Well, 2 degrees, a smattering of classes that don't apply to any degree, part of a credential and one Reading Language Specialist Credential. I am so proud of myself! :)<br />
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After finishing my last class, we went to dinner to celebrate. We went to The Spaghetti Factory and got to sit in the trolley!! I love the trolley!!<br />
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Here's a picture of my yummy, yummy cake from Frosted Cakery. My friends know exactly what I love.<br />
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Showing love for my cake. :)</div>
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The picture is blurry and has a weird tint to it, but look at all the love! </div>
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My favorite gift of the night. It was hard to get a good picture with the shine, but it says </div>
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Tiffiny Reta, M.A. That's me!!! </div>
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Since school's been over, I've been working and relaxing. I think my break is just about over, and it's time for me to find a "real" job using my degree. ;)<br />
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I'll also be catching up on here, sharing all the fun stuff we've been doing these past few months.<br />
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Till next time!<br />
Ciao!<br />
<br />Tiffinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04759810470068849350noreply@blogger.com0