<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457</id><updated>2012-01-23T09:56:24.102-05:00</updated><category term='cloud of witnesses'/><category term='Christmas 2008'/><category term='halloween'/><category term='reading'/><category term='on the way to cape may'/><category term='marathon'/><category term='children'/><category term='new egypt nj'/><category term='marine Corps'/><category term='grandchildren'/><category term='Billy Graham'/><category term='pumpkins'/><category term='Why blog?'/><category term='10K'/><category term='harvest'/><category term='snowmen'/><category term='nj travel'/><category term='bucket list'/><category term='hand-cycle'/><category term='Billy'/><title type='text'>Reminds me of the time.....</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-7489272108262869100</id><published>2011-08-06T17:49:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T18:10:56.859-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nj travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandchildren'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='on the way to cape may'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reading'/><title type='text'>I'M PUBLISHED!!!</title><content type='html'>I am amazed! Excited! BLESSED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalm 37:4&lt;sup class="versenum" id="en-AMP-14455"&gt;  &lt;/sup&gt;Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He will give you the desires and secret petitions of your heart.&lt;div class="result-text-style-normal"&gt;&lt;p&gt;But should I be surprised, knowing that the promise of Psalm 37:4 applies to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Beyond my desire to serve Him, have a loving, Christian husband, children and grands to bless my days, I have several other desires God has fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children's book, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On the Way to Cape May&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;has been published!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking about this adventure has brought to mind a few thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure I will not become a millionaire and I am fairly certain that my book will not make the NY Times bestsellers list. BUT....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have left a tangible legacy for my kids and grandkids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am having a blast promoting my book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reuniting with old friends and making many new ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sharing faith, family and patriotism as well as whimsy and humor in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On the Way to Cape May.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am introducing NJ and some of its many attractions to my readers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT here is the biggie, to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call it my "dream" or my "bucket list". Here I am at 60, a published author. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you looked at your list or dreams lately? Your Bucket List?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GO FOR IT! You can do it. And email, call me, post or shout it out. I want to hear that you are reaching for your goals &amp;amp; dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-7489272108262869100?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/7489272108262869100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=7489272108262869100' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/7489272108262869100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/7489272108262869100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2011/08/im-published.html' title='I&apos;M PUBLISHED!!!'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-2397295057156981402</id><published>2011-06-27T18:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T18:38:00.964-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe this is practice time?</title><content type='html'>Is there such a thing as "practicing for retirement"? If so, today was the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke too early for my day off, had an early cup of coffee and cereal. Therefore, lunch was going to be early - or I'll need a mid-morning snack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill and I cleaned the patio, in prep for the kids coming in TWO DAYS!!! YEAH!!  Then we each ran an errand of our own choosing. I to the grocery store, cuz the kids are coming in TWO DAYS!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill went to administer meds to the mom of a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We reconvened at home and that's when we had the snack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off we went to Lowe's for a picnic table umbrella and stand for the deck, because the kids are coming........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stopped for lunch out. Identical choices from the menu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home for a nap. Me in the library, he in his man cave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then off to Christmas Tree Shoppe - futile trip as they did not have the chairs we wanted for the patio. So back to Lowe's and got the chairs, because the kids...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You got it right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now we'll have a light dinner, get in our comfy close and watch Antique Road Show, American Pickers, Pawn Stars or Storage Wars. Hey, at least we've outgrown the Weather Channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, I think this is Retirement Practice.  We'll see if I get it right before the kids.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nighty night. Wait it's only 6:30pm you say? No worries, Bed time is right around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAWN!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-2397295057156981402?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/2397295057156981402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=2397295057156981402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/2397295057156981402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/2397295057156981402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2011/06/maybe-this-is-practice-time.html' title='Maybe this is practice time?'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-1946433590203898315</id><published>2011-03-04T11:05:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T15:48:03.019-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bill's Adventure</title><content type='html'>As I rest in my very sunny library nursing a serious headcold I am truly "reminded of a time....".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill has embarked on an adventure. I guess we can call it an adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must preface. The current financial recession's effect on the construction industry in NJ has given Bill his first opportunity to collect unemployment and sign "the book" at the union hall. The possibility of being called to work within the foreseeable future is slim, so my husband has retired. As of March 1st, he is a man without a time clock to punch, crew to manage, pipe to fix.... you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can think of at least two dozen honey-dos to give him right now.  But, "Patience", I hear the Lord say and patience I will employ. Silently, I wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now on to the adventure and it's reminding me of........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additional preface.  Our Floridian grandaughters have spring break next week and at the same time our daughter (their mother) is required to pick up extra shifts due to a staffing shortage in the cath lab at the hospital. Hey, maybe Bill could become an RN and do catharizations? Pipes are pipes, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls will need to go with their dad to his office, in his parent's home. BORING! I mean for a day it may be ok. But when you have this perfectly free POP POP with nothing but time on his hands and nothing to do in NJ until the grass starts growing, problem solved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the plan, as originally laid, was for Bill to drive down to Florida alone. I set him up with CD's, GPS  and he packed his Rand McNally atlas, a few snacks and...again, you get the picture.  I am still working and unable to schedule time off on short notice, or at all. And that's ok, more on that later. I am not the retired one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then one morning this past week Bill met with "the boys" and the other guys in his crew that were let-go on with him on December 30th, coincidentally that's Bill's birthday. Bob, an electriction, now retired, same scenario  as far as employement possibilities go, heard Bill say he's headed to Florida. One thing leads to another and yesterday Bill &amp;amp; Bob take off. Bill will drop Bob in Tampa for him to enjoy time with his sister, a son on spring break and the Phillies at spring training. Then Bill will head south to Sarasota to our kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally to the "REMINDS ME OF THE TIME" part&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several years ago, 2002 to be exact I made the reverse trip with a friend, Susan. But I think that's where the similarity ends. Susan &amp;amp; I, old pick up. Bill &amp;amp; Bob, 2009 Impala. Susan &amp;amp; Carole - AAA Triptix. Bill &amp;amp; Bob - Garman GPS.  Susan &amp;amp; I took a week, Bob &amp;amp; Bill 24 hours. Susan &amp;amp; I stopped at Wycliff Bible Translators Headquarters, St Simon's Island, Cyrpress Gardens, a friend's house, my company's corporate office, shopping. Bob &amp;amp; Bill? - nuttin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not new. Men, travel to reach a destination. Women travel, filling in as many destinations as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Susan &amp;amp; I read a great novel to each other. Bill says they talked the whole way down, never even turned on the radio. I believe him. And I am sure they shared 30 years of JOB stories. Woohoot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Bill is now down with Ashley, Emily &amp;amp; their parents. I continue to nurse my cold, in the sunny library reading my second book this weekend,  making that honey-do list - mentally only - PATIENCE did you say Lord?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you'd like to read about the trip I took with Susan find my blog of September 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you next week Honey??? Bill, Helllooooooooooo????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-1946433590203898315?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/1946433590203898315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=1946433590203898315' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/1946433590203898315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/1946433590203898315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2011/03/today-as-i-stay-home-from-work-resting.html' title='Bill&apos;s Adventure'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-2205034004503692449</id><published>2009-11-08T17:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T18:21:58.312-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Book Review</title><content type='html'>Once again I have found myself reading a couple of books that have inspired me to blog and let you know the wonder of God's working through foolish men. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;same kind of different as me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;and the follow-up book &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;What difference do it make? &lt;/span&gt;are a wonderful, inspiring set of books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;same kind of different as me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;is a story of a very unlikely friendship between two men of enormous diverse lives and backgrounds. Denver Moore, a sharecropper on the run to a new life and Ron Hall, a wealthy art dealer quite content with the status quo, would probably never have crossed paths had not God intervened through the life of a godly woman.  Their interactions, although tentative at the onset, show the reader how God can and does work through common, everyday activities. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The power of God through these three individuals is evident by the changes in one community in Fort Worth, Texas.  A heartbreaking turn of events solidifies the friendship between these two men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second book in the series, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What difference do it make? &lt;/span&gt;continues the story revealing example after example of the results of this friendship. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, that this reader would actually become the hands and feet of Jesus just as Mr. Moore and Mr. Hall and that one woman that loved them and God.  That I could step out of my comfort zone and reach a people that God may place in my life and path. That I would look for the opportunities to touch lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-2205034004503692449?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/2205034004503692449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=2205034004503692449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/2205034004503692449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/2205034004503692449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2009/11/book-review.html' title='Book Review'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-2127747607334625907</id><published>2009-01-09T19:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T19:48:12.711-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rex, by Cahtleen Lewis. Thomas Nelson Publishers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SWfqsMGXXUI/AAAAAAAAAEM/ihf-4HBUpls/s1600-h/rex+cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SWfqsMGXXUI/AAAAAAAAAEM/ihf-4HBUpls/s200/rex+cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289454332253003074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this is a book I absolutely love and highly recommend. REX is the story of love and hope and determination and so much more. And quite frankly, in my estimation, the hero of the story is not Rex, the boy, but his mom. Cathleen is amazing!  Her energy and love for her son is something that any woman CAN posses but many don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a reader, I found myself rooting for Rex as I have my own children through their struggles and accomplishments in life. Until recently those struggles for my children were small potatoes to Rex's. Recently my adult son became a quadraplegic from an IED explosion in Iraq. The tasks that my son has learned to accomplish show the determination that one must possess to overcome obstacles and live a full live. Fuller than full actually. Ms. Lewis, Rex's mom, needed to be his determination as his autism kept him from expressing his own for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminds me of the time when I was speaking with Andrew on the phone, he was in California and I in New Jersey, when he suddenly let out a "soft" expletive. I asked what happend and his reply was that he had dropped a handful of shaving cream on the floor. Shaving Cream? Why was my son bothering with shaving cream and a razor when he could have simply grabbed an electric razor and been done with the job. After all, he has no finger movement, necessary for blade shaving. Why? Because he wanted to!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rex's mom helped him avoid the easy way out and try and accomplish the more difficult, to live a fuller life. Skiing? Blind and Austistic? Rough stumbling blocks but not impossible ones. I wonder if I would have half the energy and will that she continued to exhibit on her son's behalf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rex's sweet personality will captivate your heart and Cathleen will inspire you to hold on and let go of your children all at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book is a real blessing. Think I'll read it again, very soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-2127747607334625907?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/2127747607334625907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=2127747607334625907' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/2127747607334625907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/2127747607334625907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2009/01/rex-by-cahtleen-lewis-thomas-nelson.html' title='Rex, by Cahtleen Lewis. Thomas Nelson Publishers'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SWfqsMGXXUI/AAAAAAAAAEM/ihf-4HBUpls/s72-c/rex+cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-7006074309512258837</id><published>2008-12-26T08:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T09:07:36.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day after Christmas Reflection, 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTlFshxAVI/AAAAAAAAADc/mXArQ17B8lw/s1600-h/Christmas+Day+2008+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTlFshxAVI/AAAAAAAAADc/mXArQ17B8lw/s320/Christmas+Day+2008+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284100148827324754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is nice, having the day after Christmas off and no where to be until about noon. I plan on having lunch with Bill &amp;amp; getting the oil changed in my car. And that is it!! No shopping and taking advantage of Black Friday II. I paid cash for every single gift and grocery item for Christmas and don't intend to break that record today. Plus there is absolutely nothing to be added to the gifts I received this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may know we celebrated Christmas twice this year. Once the first weekend of December when the Florida kids were up and then again yesterday with just the locals.  And one day was just as special as the other, just different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the highlights from yesterday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our oldest granddaughter, Ashley (FL) sent a package to NJ with gifts purchased with her very own money. Her economics class at school (3rd grade) held a Holiday Bazaar stocked with merchandise made by the students. Each student was to earn "investment capital" at home, purchase supplies, consider man hours etc to determine the retail price of the item. Whew! What &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; they teaching kids these days? To become productive, contributing citizens or what?  We received a decoupage patriotic plate - perfect for the mantle in our Patriotic Christmas Tree room! We also had a great phone conversation earlier in the day with both Ashley &amp;amp; Emily. Always a neat tradition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, our local kids arrived and we had an early dinner. I missed the 3pm sit down time by four minutes!!! And all the food was hot and no burned rolls!! Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We gathered around the kitchen table, all 11 of us. Oops 10, Brayden (6 mos)  took a nap during most of the meal - good boy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We served sparkling cider in wine glasses, including a shorter glass for Mackenzie (3 yrs). She looked so cute picking it up by the stem and taking sips. And picking  it up again and again. Monica (mom) had to move it from her reach and work out a deal. Bite of food, sip of juice. It was really cute. Sorry no camera at the table, darn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first gift Brayden opened - with big sister's help - had a clear front on the package. Brayden was sitting on his mommy's lap at the time and when he saw the package he leaned forward and put his face right to the plastic mouth wide open. Inside was a set of teething keys we are sure he wanted to get to, right away. It was cute. Oh by the way, he got "two front teeth" for Christmas and he knows how to use them. Ouch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime later, after dessert, Pop Pop and Mackenzie retired to the library to do puzzles. Brian (Kelly's boyfriend &amp;amp; police officer) slept through dessert. He worked the night shift Christmas Eve and had to go back to work at midnight. Mom just needed her chair and ottoman, and I think she dove right into her new set of crossword puzzle books (gift from Kelly &amp;amp; Brian).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of us started a game of Scattagories with Teams.&lt;br /&gt;Team One: Kelly &amp;amp; Sara&lt;br /&gt;Team Two: Andrew &amp;amp; Kevin&lt;br /&gt;Team Three: Monica &amp;amp; me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Team One just about walked away with the win! Team Two came in second with some really weird answers. And poor Team Three. Me, 57 year old grandmother and Monica, exhausted young mother with infant in arms while we played. What were we thinking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's funny to see the personalities through the responses to the different catagories. A  dice is tossed indicating the letter to be used for the beginning letter of all answers in the round of 11 or 12 topics. My favorite: Companies using the letter G.&lt;br /&gt;Team Three (mommy &amp;amp; grandmom)? Grayco (baby furniture &amp;amp; equipment).&lt;br /&gt;Team Two(boys)? Goodyear (car tires).&lt;br /&gt;Team One(girls, ie shoppers)? Gucci! DUH!!! I think they made a date to go shopping this weekend with thier winnings!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chuckle even now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too soon, for me, the evening came to an end. I had a bit of closure loading the new dishwasher and visiting with Mom and Bill before we retired to our separate living quarters. And then to bed - at 9:30!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good day! A really really good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Jesus for giving us a reason to gather and to give and to enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-7006074309512258837?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/7006074309512258837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=7006074309512258837' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/7006074309512258837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/7006074309512258837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/12/day-after-christmas-reflection-2008.html' title='Day after Christmas Reflection, 2008'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTlFshxAVI/AAAAAAAAADc/mXArQ17B8lw/s72-c/Christmas+Day+2008+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-5663156867411178750</id><published>2008-12-21T15:40:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T09:35:11.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit Boomtown!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTrmNBWBUI/AAAAAAAAADs/NgqstkNUtIU/s1600-h/_240_1000_Book.20.cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTrmNBWBUI/AAAAAAAAADs/NgqstkNUtIU/s200/_240_1000_Book.20.cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284107304375289154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My third book for review for Thomas Nelson Publishers was a juvenile piece of fiction called &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Boomtown: Chang's Famous Fireworks Factory&lt;/span&gt;. Author Nowen N. Particualr has done a bang-up job of drawing a smile to the reader's face telling tales of the citizens of Boomtown, Washington, USA.  The folks of Boomtown include everything from fireworks to Hen-Grenades and Rocket Reindeer at every event and celebration. You never know what will blast the town into a new day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did find the sub-plot, a mystery, is a bit vague during most of the story. Also, one character's participation in the mysterious events could have been developed a bit more, maybe to let the reader in on a bit of the secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I appreciate the author using a vocabulary above children level. Always appreciate the opportunity to expand kids' vocabs. Examples? Hortaculture, canopy, stoic, plundering marauders. See what I mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can just see Adam Chandler as the pastor who is, I suppose, the main character of the story. I think it would make a good comedy. A Laurel and Hardy kind of film for the new millenium.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-5663156867411178750?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/5663156867411178750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=5663156867411178750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/5663156867411178750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/5663156867411178750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/12/boomtown.html' title='Visit Boomtown!'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTrmNBWBUI/AAAAAAAAADs/NgqstkNUtIU/s72-c/_240_1000_Book.20.cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-1499932579900403774</id><published>2008-12-16T08:21:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T09:36:40.629-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas 2008'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snowmen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandchildren'/><title type='text'>Size of snow storm? Irrelevant!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTr84tuSbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/JYToAGTlwSs/s1600-h/Christmas+Dec+6+2008+033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 197px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTr84tuSbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/JYToAGTlwSs/s200/Christmas+Dec+6+2008+033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284107694061275570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Florida grandchildren brought their parents to NJ for an early Christmas this year. Before arriving the girls, Ashley and Emily, had asked for and hoped for snow. They think once it's cold in NJ, snow is a given.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a lovely day with food, all our kids &amp;amp; grands and presents. What did we do for entertainment before children? They certainly kept us smiling. They are better than any game (video or otherwise), sports event or movie on TV. We just love them and their antics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the time we were done with the usual holiday activities, Bill took a look outside to discover it was snowing. Well, to be honest it was really just dusting or flurrying. Certainly not what we North-Easterns would call a snow storm. But to our girls, including Mackenzie from Philly,  it was a bonafide, get-bundled-up, hurry-before-it-stops event. And that's just what they did.  Their dad, Jeff, even changed out of his shorts into jeans to join them. Me? Oh I stayed inside with the camera, thank you very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the joy! They ran, they gathered, they stuck out their tongues for a sampling. And then they did what a NJ kid might not think possible. They built a snowman. Uh, a snow mini-guy? We really don't know what to call it. They used our snowman kit, complete with wooden carrot-shaped nose and black pipe. Even a big red heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The inscription on the box that holds the snow man pieces says: "To build a snowman with somone you love, will surely warm your heart."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sure warmed ours to see the girls enjoying themselves so much. Maybe the best Christmas present we gave this year.  Thanks Accu-Weather for the surprise and God for the supply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are looking forward to Christmas 2008 II on Dec 25th with just our local kids. I'll have to get my boots ready and fill in for Ashley &amp;amp; Emily and give Mackenzie a hand should snow fall again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh, maybe we'll do play-doh snowmen. They're always fun, right? Oh I am getting sooooo old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-1499932579900403774?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/1499932579900403774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=1499932579900403774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/1499932579900403774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/1499932579900403774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/12/size-of-snow-storm-irrelevant.html' title='Size of snow storm? Irrelevant!'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTr84tuSbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/JYToAGTlwSs/s72-c/Christmas+Dec+6+2008+033.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-65051420083099515</id><published>2008-11-22T09:11:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T09:38:24.192-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Little Girl by Tim McGraw &amp; Tom Douglas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTsUSF3H7I/AAAAAAAAAD8/Fzqk7kfGpZU/s1600-h/my+little+girl+cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTsUSF3H7I/AAAAAAAAAD8/Fzqk7kfGpZU/s200/my+little+girl+cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284108096010395570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a cute little book! The story is of a daddy &amp;amp; "his little girl" spending a day together. A Daddy-date! Though Katie expected something "spectacular" and prepared for it, the day was quite different than she imagined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This author (daddy, Country singer Super Star) could have written about any of the extraordinarily expensive days he most likely has spent on and with his daughter. But he chose simplicity to show the SPECTACULAR love he has for his daughter. And the love all daddies (and moms) can show to their children without breaking the bank!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the illustrations are adorable. Art gallery quality, with love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another book worth placing on your bookshelf.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-65051420083099515?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/65051420083099515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=65051420083099515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/65051420083099515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/65051420083099515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-little-girl-by-tim-mcgraw-tom.html' title='My Little Girl by Tim McGraw &amp; Tom Douglas'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTsUSF3H7I/AAAAAAAAAD8/Fzqk7kfGpZU/s72-c/my+little+girl+cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-4938768336695065828</id><published>2008-11-16T19:52:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T09:34:10.382-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Billy Graham'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Billy'/><title type='text'>Book Report  - Haven't done one in years!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTrW4yqjmI/AAAAAAAAADk/8nzMidJt8Os/s1600-h/Billy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTrW4yqjmI/AAAAAAAAADk/8nzMidJt8Os/s200/Billy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284107041246973538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have recently enrolled in a program with Thomas Nelson Inc. publishers, to read and review (on my blog) one of their recent books.  I chose "Billy" an "untold story of a young Billy Graham and the test of faith that almost changed everything".1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't typically read non-fiction, but as the Reverend Billy Graham nears the end of his earthly life and grows closer and closer to Heaven I thought I'd like to read this now rather than later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an excellent choice! I pray you will take the time to read it. This relatively short book covers only a portion of the evangelist's life, but probably the most powerful, life-changing portion of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Billy" is brilliantly told in a narrative style of Rev. Graham's early life, from high school through the time of his early tent meetings in 1959. The flash-forward chapters of a deathbed interview with one of Billy's dearest friends in 2001 brings intrigue and insight into the powerful Christian's "crisis of faith"2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even being aware of the amazing career of Rev Graham, the book was a real page turner! All will be blessed by reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now hold a greater appreciation for this man of God's walk with the Saviour and his desire for all to know Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings as you read, Carole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1,2. Cover of Billy, William Paul McKay &amp;amp; Ken Abraham, Thomas Nelson, 2008&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-4938768336695065828?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/4938768336695065828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=4938768336695065828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/4938768336695065828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/4938768336695065828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/11/book-report-havent-done-one-in-years.html' title='Book Report  - Haven&apos;t done one in years!'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTrW4yqjmI/AAAAAAAAADk/8nzMidJt8Os/s72-c/Billy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-1892311926144913583</id><published>2008-11-12T07:59:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T09:41:28.375-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new egypt nj'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandchildren'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pumpkins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='harvest'/><title type='text'>What bumps?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTtDkHlYdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/zjNJbaxFGNM/s1600-h/Pumpkin+Patch+2008+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 166px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTtDkHlYdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/zjNJbaxFGNM/s200/Pumpkin+Patch+2008+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284108908303311314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h4&gt;James 2 (Young's Literal Translation)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;h5&gt;The Royal Rule of Love&lt;/h5&gt; &lt;span id="en-NLT-30255" class="sup"&gt;James 2:2&lt;/span&gt;-4 For example, suppose someone comes into your meeting dressed in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry, and another comes in who is poor and dressed in dirty clothes. If you give special attention and a good seat to the rich person, but you say to the poor one, “You can stand over there, or else sit on the floor”—well,  doesn’t this discrimination show that your judgments are guided by evil motives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;2nd Annual Pumpkin Patch Trip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mackenzie is just three years old but she re-taught me a lesson on our trip to the Pumpkin Patch a few weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our favorite place to go for our Harvest (Halloween) pumpkins is Emery's Blueberry Farm in New Egypt, NJ. We frequent the farm and farm store often throughout the year. I love their pies, just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;the blueberries. If you know me, you know I don't like any berries, much to my mother's chagrin. I don't believe Mom would count life necessary without berries, especially straw &amp;amp; blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Emery family offers a wagon ride around the farm, bypassing the actual pumpkin patch returning their guests to a field with rows of pumpkins "planted" for easy pick up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Families also spend time looking at farm animals and taking pictures with the large cutout Halloween and farm-like characters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mackenzie allowed us a quick visit with the penned animals but was totally focused on choosing pumpkins. One for herself and one for Brayden, her four month old brother. She wasn't interested in the wagon ride either, so directly to the field we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We adults all know the complexities of carving a not-so-perfect pumpkin. If you don't find the flat bottom and the fully rounded, flawless surface to carve, you might have a lopsided looking jack-o-lantern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we adults tried steering her to our opinion of the perfect pumpkin, Sweetiepie had different ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cute picture, right? Well, look at that pumpkin! Bumps all around it! How do you incorporate that into a typical jack-o-lantern face? May I be crude and call them zits? pimples? But Mackenzie didn't notice. And her parents, God bless them, did not even try to point them out. To bring attention to its flaws may open Mackenzie's eyes to the "flaws" of her family, friends and neighbors. And grandmom! Oh please let her love me with my gray hair, extra pounds, imperfect complexion and not the most "today" wardrobe, and my silly jokes etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a lesson in the pumpkin patch! What ever our fellow men wear - or look like - or smell like - or talk like - or _____________, welcome them! Into your house of worship, your fellowship, your home, your circle of friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Mackenzie, Grandmom needed that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-1892311926144913583?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/1892311926144913583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=1892311926144913583' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/1892311926144913583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/1892311926144913583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-bumps.html' title='What bumps?'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SVTtDkHlYdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/zjNJbaxFGNM/s72-c/Pumpkin+Patch+2008+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-7242253341085812866</id><published>2008-10-30T07:48:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T08:43:25.773-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marathon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hand-cycle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cloud of witnesses'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='10K'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marine Corps'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SRrddaSF8wI/AAAAAAAAACE/q_zAsbGiZcc/s1600-h/Marine+Corps+Marathon+2008+028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SRrddaSF8wI/AAAAAAAAACE/q_zAsbGiZcc/s320/Marine+Corps+Marathon+2008+028.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267766211504370434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="en-NASB-30214" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,.."&lt;/span&gt;  Hebrews 12:1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Washington DC - October 26, 2008 - Marine Corps Marathon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Andrew hand-cycled from the starting line 10K course, Bill and Sara and I took off on foot - as the crow flies - to the finish line.  Much less than 10K for sure, but felt like more to me as I only walk on an as-need basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we came to "the dreaded hill" near the finish line, Bill &amp;amp; I decided to stop mid-way  and wait for Andrew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we cheered on other athletes, we kept a careful eye for Andrew on his cycle. Finally our son was at the bottom of the hill but not advancing upward. He'd cycle back a few strokes and then forward  hoping to get the momentum needed to continue up this hill that all the runners dread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing my son struggle I ran to the bottom of the hill, all the while shouting. "Come on Andrew, you can do it. Come on Andy. Go, Go!  Buddy push - harder! You can do it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowd of spectators began shouting with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go Andy, Go!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Marine in uniform came behind Andrew, put his hand on his shoulder and gave just enough support to get him started up that hill. And then a runner took over, with both hands on my son's shoulders he took Andrew to the top of the hill. There he asked Andrew if he needed more help, but Andrew wanted to, and did, cross the finish line on his own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have attached a picture of Andrew and the Marine helping him. But look closer, look at the other runners. The couple in front of Andrew - is clapping. There is a runner behind Andrew in a pink shirt and another in a green and white shirt, and they are cheering Andrew on as well! (Sorry the picture was shrunk to fit my blog spot and these runners may not visible. I'll send you the picture through another vehicle if you wish. Just let me know.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are not bystanders, spectators like Bill &amp;amp; I. They are people in the race with Andrew. Feeling the pain, knowing the hill, up-close-and-personal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much like the "cloud of witnesses" we read about in the book of Hebrews. Those witnesses knew, up-close-and-personal, the struggles of being a Christian in a society of persecution. They faced hills, even mountains of adversity and trials. These witnesses were not merely cheering spectators!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that today, we find opportunities to share how we completed a race of our own with God's help.  Let's be transparent with our lives. Share our struggles, tell how God put His hands on our shoulders and helped us up those hills and through those dark valleys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us be among that 'cloud of witnesses".  We may just be the "push" someone needs to reach the top of their hill and finish their race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings, Carole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-7242253341085812866?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/7242253341085812866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=7242253341085812866' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/7242253341085812866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/7242253341085812866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/10/therefore-since-we-have-so-great-cloud.html' title=''/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SRrddaSF8wI/AAAAAAAAACE/q_zAsbGiZcc/s72-c/Marine+Corps+Marathon+2008+028.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-367898076486769191</id><published>2008-10-18T10:12:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T11:39:01.690-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Single Pink Sapphire Earring.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1 Peter 5:7 "Casting the whole of your cares, all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully." (Amplified Version)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Faith 101, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dedicating your life to Christ, your children in service to the Lord, signing papers allowing your only son to become a Marine, taking steps in re-marriage, facing a health crisis  or awaiting the return of your severely injured son from Iraq. All opportunities to cast your cares upon Him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Friday afternoon, Tampa, Florida September 2006.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Since the weekend guests had not started checking-in, it was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;quiet at the Double Tree Suites. In fact I found myself alone pool side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, praying about whether or not to follow Bill's lead and return to NJ now. At this point in Andrew's rehabilitation we were no longer needed. In fact we may have been  hindering Andrew &amp;amp; Sara's transition to living with his quadriplegia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; noticed I was missing an earring. One of the pink sapphire earrings Bill gave me on my first Mother's Day 30 years ago. And then Christmas 2005, he presented me with a custom designed necklace to match.  My first jewelry ensemble - other than inexpensive boxed sets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I diligently looked in all the obvious places and every not-so obvious place for the lost earring. I slowly walked the shallow end of the pool with sensitive feet, feeling for something on the bottom. Not being a good swimmer, I walked the perimeter of the deep end looking through the still water for the small earring. I retraced steps eyes peeled on the tile, checked the hotel room, checked my clothing. Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't panic, although in another time and place I may have. I had just thanked the Lord for His work in Andrew's body and asked also for His guidance, so this lost earring didn't seem like such a big deal. Although I was sad about the loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to Sunday. I had the pleasure of attending a church service with my new friend Crystal, a member of the hotel staff. The pastor's sermon truly helped in my latest worry - when to return to NJ. God spoke in a mighty way to me through the message. More on that another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While driving back to the hotel, my daughter Kelly, also staying at the hotel, called on my cell to say she was at the pool. There were more people compared to Friday but one gentleman swimming with his granddaughter looked at Kelly - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;out of all the folks poolside &lt;/span&gt;- and asked if she had lost an earring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelly quickly responded, "My mom did! A pink sapphire one!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, there in that little child's hand was my lost earring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my searching on Friday I don't remember praying specifically for the earring. But I had "once and for all cast my cares" on Him. And once again God proved His "watchful" care of me. His watchful eye saw even to the bottom of that swimming pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wear those earrings and necklace almost daily now. Pink after all "is the new black" or was last year in the fashion world. I reach for them often to make sure they are there. To be honest Bill had them refitted with screw backs upon my return to NJ. But each and every time I feel them securely there I remember my security in my heavenly Father's love, faithfulness and care for the huge things and the small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even as small as a single pink-sapphire earring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-367898076486769191?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/367898076486769191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=367898076486769191' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/367898076486769191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/367898076486769191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/10/single-pink-sapphire-earring.html' title='A Single Pink Sapphire Earring.'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-3409499615089981547</id><published>2008-10-08T08:57:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T20:12:13.401-04:00</updated><title type='text'>To twitter or not to twitter.  Now there's a question.</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre class="WMmessagebody"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Hello friends, Today a discussion ensued on my online Writers' Group about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;using the new online communication vehicle called Twitter. Twitter.com.&lt;br /&gt;Be sure to read &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;the Surgeon General's warning as to the addiction side&lt;br /&gt;effects of said site.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;As the conversation continued I couldn't help myself. I had go to dictionary.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;twit-ter - verb (used without object)&lt;br /&gt;1. to utter a succession of small, tremulous sounds, as a bird&lt;br /&gt;2. to talk lightly and rapidly, esp. of trivial matters; chatter&lt;br /&gt;3. to titter; giggle.&lt;br /&gt;4. to tremble with excitement or the like; be in a flutter.&lt;br /&gt;- verb (used with object)&lt;br /&gt;5. to express or utter by twittering.&lt;br /&gt;-noun&lt;br /&gt;6. an act of twittering.&lt;br /&gt;7. a twittering sound.&lt;br /&gt;8. a state of tremulous excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;So there we were, a group of novelists, columnists etc twittering about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;whether to twit or not to twit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Personally?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I twitter (#2) and have for years. Anytime, anyplace to anyone with ears.&lt;br /&gt;At the office, at&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;home, in the line at the store. I should be about twittered out,&lt;br /&gt;dontcha think? My kids say I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;twitter too much. Especially to strangers.&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You are embarrassing us Mom."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;If I went to a site to twitter, I'd twiddle away my day and get nothing else&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;done. And I am so ADD or ADHD or OCD or some other D&lt;br /&gt;that if I started twittering I'd get&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;hooked and never see the light of day.&lt;br /&gt;I am of course using verb definition #2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I have been known to twitter (#4) but I take medicine for that at my age.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I never #3. I am more of a hearty loud somewhat obnoxious guffaw.&lt;br /&gt;Which I guess&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;could be birdlike - Big Bird.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Well enough of this. I must get going to Bible Study where&lt;br /&gt;Thou Shalt Not Twitter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Altho sharing prayer requests can be a bit ....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;ENOUGH CAROLE! - SIGN OFF&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-3409499615089981547?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/3409499615089981547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=3409499615089981547' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/3409499615089981547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/3409499615089981547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/10/to-twit-or-not-to-twit-now-theres.html' title='To twitter or not to twitter.  Now there&apos;s a question.'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-9219834059554616764</id><published>2008-09-16T21:35:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T08:46:59.982-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Seeing the picture of the bench on our front porch...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SRreTqUxWxI/AAAAAAAAACM/QA4RkA5ANMg/s1600-h/100_0035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SRreTqUxWxI/AAAAAAAAACM/QA4RkA5ANMg/s320/100_0035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267767143523506962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reminds me of the time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Andrew was on his first deployment with the Marine Corps to Iraq (2004) when he called home in August to ask if we were doing anything October 23.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ummm, why?" I asked. Since his  return was expected early September, I was thinking vacation or family reunion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, Sara and I have chosen October 23 to get married." was his response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like I will not be going to my high school's 35'th reunion planned for that evening. I was on the planning committee this time, but not really fond of reunions, so I was not terribly disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we  have a wedding on the calendar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Circumstances became such that Sara was staying with us when Andrew returned from that deployment in September as scheduled. A week or so after his return he had purchased a ring and was planning on officially proposing and presenting the ring. Olive Garden was their favorite restaurant and the plan was to propose there. However, Andrew not needing a jacket and not wearing loose fitting pants had no pockets to hide the ring box. Plan B?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way out the door, Andrew tossed the ring to his sister Kelly and whispered, "Take this, set up the front porch with all the candles you can find in the house. Make it look romantic. Oh, and record a bunch of songs on a cd. Country music, including our song, ...  Put your cd player and speakers on the porch."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;These many years later I can't remember the name of their song but it had something about blueberries in it I think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;I'll call you when we are on our way home, almost to the house. Light all the candles and turn &lt;/span&gt;on the music and skidaddle." were Andrew's final instructions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Kelly &amp;amp; her faithful accomplice (me) did exactly that. Kelly worked on the music and the cd. I scrounged up every nice candle we had. Can you believe I even had a heart shaped one? I think we counted at least 40 candles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phone call came as they were close by, we lit the candles and watched for the headlights coming up the street. Kelly pushed play on the cd player and we dashed in the house, making sure no lights were on in the front rooms, careful to give them additional privacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So did the accomplices go to their rooms? Downstairs out of earshot and sight? I should say not! We did duck under the dining room table, which is that front room.   Andrew had told Sara to close her eyes before they got in front of the house and  he led her from car to porch and then said, "Open your eyes." It was such a lovely romantic scene. We had even placed the ring box next to the heart shaped candle on the white loveseat (bench mentioned in previous posting).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there we were, Kelly &amp;amp; I, in the dark, listening and peeking as the sweethearts commenced to promise unending love to each other.  Sara squeeled and giggled. (We stiffled ours.) Andrew softly proposed. (Kelly and I shushed each other.) We couldn't hear it all, but we sure tried.  We would pop our heads up from our hiding spot to take a peek. We noticed Sara wiping tears from her eyes. Not wanting her to ruin her makeup and get all red nosed, Kelly quietly opened the front door and tossed a box of tissues out at the adoring couple, then hurried back under the table, belly laughing at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The jig was up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To end the event Andrew asked for two cups of hot chocolate served on the porch. I tossed in a lovely throw as the night was getting a bit chilly. I even took a few pictures for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelly and I knew it was time to "skidaddle" at this point and left the couple to continue their night to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if they remember the event in quite the same way?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-9219834059554616764?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/9219834059554616764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=9219834059554616764' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/9219834059554616764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/9219834059554616764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/09/seeing-picture-of-bench-on-our-front.html' title='Seeing the picture of the bench on our front porch...'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SRreTqUxWxI/AAAAAAAAACM/QA4RkA5ANMg/s72-c/100_0035.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-8926452341354426475</id><published>2008-09-13T17:01:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T20:06:27.677-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We went on a date last night!</title><content type='html'>Bill and I still date, occasionally. Yes we do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we go to WaWa for a cup of coffee soon after dinner trying to leave the Tastykakes alone and just sticking to coffee.  Similar I guess to the Gilded Age, when folks would retire to the drawing room, enjoy coffee, tea, and mutual conversation for perhaps a half-hour. But we fill our paper cups, pop on the lids and return home in our Dodge Ram Pick-up. Often you will find us ending the date on the bench on the front porch, until the bugs start biting. Then we retire indoors to enjoy television, computer time and a good night's sleep, unless, we drank regular coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or we may go to The Home Depot or Lowe's for something. We are known for this date place. Recently friends of Andrew sent us a thank you note including a Home Depot gift card and they told us to "have a nice date".  Wonder who tipped them off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reminds me of the time &lt;/span&gt;we went to Lowe's. Or was it the Depot? None the less, Bill needed a new tree pruner. I knew this was not going to be a short date when we found several brands and styles and prices from which to choose.  Bill needed the long handled kind, with the telescoping pole to reach up into the trees. His unrepairable pruner was more than 20 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Bill examined, re-examined and read every word of the packaging on every pruner, I started roaming around the store as I often do on these excursions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we first had entered the store I noticed a lovely white bench assembled for display and purchase. I thought it would look quite nice on our front porch, replacing the antique church pew that really needed to be refinished and brought out of the weather.  I pointed the bench out to Bill and he gave it a cursory glance and continued to the gardening tool section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walked around the store I stopped by the bench, testing it for comfort and visualizing it on our front porch. Our home is painted Federal Blue with white shutters and this would be perfect.  The porch is not too wide, not too long so this love-seat size bench would fit just right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill continued to examine pruners. I spied power washers nearby.  We don't have one and that blue siding on the house could use a bit of a clean up, especially if we are going to take home this bench.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I continue to roam Bill is oblivious to what is about to happen to his wallet. I really admire his shopping style tho. Peering through the blister packaging, pulling the rope, clamping the jaws of the pruner, he will decide which one will work the best, last the longest and most importantly, be the easiest to repair.  Bill can repair and assemble just about anything! Except his old pruner. Oh and the kids' Speak and Spell (circa 1980) but that's another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spy a nice piece of outdoor carpet, about 6x10. That will go great in the screened-in porch on the pool side of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill has finally made his choice and I have returned from my roaming. I point out the power washer and Bill suggests I go get a cart. By the way, this purchase decision only took a few minutes. He must have researched power washers on a previous trip.  With that in the cart and the pruner propped with more than half its height over our heads, we continue to the carpet piece. Bill agrees, good price, good idea, in the cart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way to the register I whisper in my sweetheart's ear, "Bill what do you think of that bench? I saw there are only two left boxed on a shelf."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bit more urgently and touching his shoulder I say, "Oh, another couple is looking at our bench! Look, she's sitting on it! What do you think, Hon?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the passion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go get a bigger cart!" Such a romantic that husband of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know a simple pruner can cost upwards of $500? I never said I was a cheap date!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I forgot to tell you about last night's date. Another time. Soon, I promise. It was a bit cheaper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-8926452341354426475?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/8926452341354426475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=8926452341354426475' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/8926452341354426475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/8926452341354426475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/09/our-date-last-night.html' title='We went on a date last night!'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-6486598024733101349</id><published>2008-09-03T07:54:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T20:44:16.609-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thelma &amp; Louise? NOT!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;  I received one comment on my blogspot yesterday from a very dear friend, Susan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing from her reminded me of the time she and I took a road trip together. It was the return leg of her trip to Florida to attend her daughter Jennifer's college graduation and wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jennifer lives in W Palm, Fl which is on the East coast. Susan picked me up at my daughter's home in Sarasota, West Coast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we drove to Orlando, Central Fl - then on to St Simon's  Island Ga - more Eastward. Then we bounced to Atlanta, GA - then to Richmond VA and then home to NJ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't remember the price of gas back in 2002 but it was do-able on our meager budget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that Susan's vehicle at the time was a 1985 Ford Pick Up? Well, yes, that was our mode of transportation. And we shared driving. Susan doesn't like to drive much and I am a bit of control freak so we balanced each other out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highlights?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Reading Lisa Samson's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Women's Intuition. &lt;/span&gt;Started reading it aloud to each other while taking turns driving. Started just outside of Sarasota and finished it 5 miles from home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;St Simon's Island - Methodist Camp - Lighthouse.  Beautiful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cypress Gardens. Did you know it had already closed (out of business) by 2002? Well we found that out as we passed through the gates. It was sad for Susan as she had seen the Gardens in its glory days years ago. I was just glad we did not get arrested for trespassing when the owner caught us driving around.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wycliffe Bible Translators - tour of facility - very inspirational. It is wonderful to see how the Word of God is being translated in so very many languages. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Driving into Atlanta at 8PM which is still rush-hour there. Yes I was driving. Felt like we were a ball in the pinball machine on those interstates, winding around and into the city. Felt like someone else had control of the wheel. Well, He did and did quite a good job of getting us safely to a friend's home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Driving Susan's truck into Peach Tree (Atlanta) to visit my company's corporate office. I got lost. When I got lost I went into a UPS store and asked if they could put me and my pickup into one of their brown trucks and they could deliver me to my destination. Cute young man at the counter said, "Mam, we don't do that here." Very cute. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I caught up with a cousin I hadn't seen in years. And Susan spent some quality time with her friend, our host Leslie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visiting with a friend's grandmother and aunt in Richmond. Such a sweet time with these dear ladies.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I am sure there is much I have forgotten, we did not journal. Maybe Susan did. Maybe she has pictures. However, without details secured in my memory, I remember it was great. And unlike the ladies in the title of this blog - I didn't see the movie and know nothing of them, except - we  returned alive, well, and smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I tell you about my overnight stay at the Atlanta airport on my way to Sarasota in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another story, another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-6486598024733101349?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/6486598024733101349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=6486598024733101349' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/6486598024733101349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/6486598024733101349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/09/thelma-louise-not.html' title='Thelma &amp; Louise? NOT!!!'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446650684221804457.post-327721317227404106</id><published>2008-09-02T10:08:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T10:45:01.707-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Why blog?'/><title type='text'>I love to tell the story...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the old hymn goes, "of Jesus and His glory!". And I do, I really do. And I believe that in telling my story, I am telling of His glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being closer to 60 years old than 50 (how's that for not giving you my exact age?) I have lots of stories stored up inside me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When chatting with friends and family I hope I don't sound as if I am doing the one-up-man-ship of story tellers, ie, you tell me about your day, I have one worse, better, more exciting, more boring, Your kids did this, mine did that. You get the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just that your story reminds me of a story, a time, an event in my life that brings me joy to think about and talk about. Well not all bring me joy. Some stories bring embarrassment, some tears but hopefully all show my humanity and His divinity. I also hope you see my dependence on Jesus for the outcome of every event and recognition of that dependence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most times the spiritual aspect of the story is not overtly revealed. But always, He is at the core of every tear and smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe He has gifted me with the art of storytelling and I pray He'll allow me to bless you with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hang in there (here) you may read about yourself on these blog pages. I'll change your name when it's time to "protect the innocent".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings, Carole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5446650684221804457-327721317227404106?l=remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/feeds/327721317227404106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5446650684221804457&amp;postID=327721317227404106' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/327721317227404106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5446650684221804457/posts/default/327721317227404106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://remindsmeofthetime.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-love-to-tell-story.html' title='I love to tell the story...'/><author><name>Blessings, Carole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13462965928812652744</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SQp6QmrdRco/SL1D8zc_2GI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Lg15P-_McII/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
