<?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-1492132903401180441</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:04:52.199-08:00</updated><category term='abas leather'/><category term='a little heat'/><category term='organization'/><category term='home with my babies'/><category term='small steps'/><category term='fall'/><category term='service'/><category term='leather accessories'/><category term='light of my life'/><category term='furniture'/><category term='lending a hand'/><category term='scrapbooking'/><category term='memories'/><category term='craft'/><category term='small catastrophes'/><category term='Storage'/><category term='he&apos;s my brother'/><category term='sewing'/><category term='grandma'/><category term='a gift for me'/><category term='living on a single income'/><category term='there&apos;s no place like home'/><category term='5 year olds'/><category term='quilting'/><category term='sizzlin&apos; chicken'/><title type='text'>Who Me?</title><subtitle type='html'>I didn't do it . . .</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-1572761007744919653</id><published>2011-06-04T20:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T21:25:52.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And So It Begins . . .</title><content type='html'>Summer has finally arrived. And I'm not talking about finally having non-Arctic temperatures.  I'm talking about kids home all day, alternating between trying to play on the computer all day and kill each other.  You must have a plan.  We have one full week under our belts and so far so good.  I only thought about them going back to school 5, maybe 6 times this week.  OK, maybe it was more, but I'm sure I shouldn't admit that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our summer plan is for every day to have some work and then every day we have something fun.  One of our fun things has been to read The Twits by Roald Dahl together.  It's one of my favorites.  By reading 10 pages a night together, we have finished it in about a week.  And then, thanks to the Roald Dahl's Revolting Recipes book, we had a good plan to make a Mr. Twit for dinner.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-atcgd2pK3oU/TesFBa4Ck6I/AAAAAAAAALM/vF1Q2qYdl7w/s1600/Mr%2BTwit"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 185px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-atcgd2pK3oU/TesFBa4Ck6I/AAAAAAAAALM/vF1Q2qYdl7w/s200/Mr%2BTwit" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614586882399835042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't read the book (and you need to), Mr. Twit was a "foul and smelly old man" whose face was not only "covered with thick hair, the stuff even sprouted in revolting tufts out of his nostrils and ear-holes."  The best part of his horrible beard was all the food that got stuck there that he saved for later snacks.  Mrs. Twit was also horrid and they amuse themselves by playing horrible tricks on each other and tormenting small animals until they finally get taught a lesson.  I won't reveal more than that because seriously, you need to read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the point of the post--a picture of our Mr. Twit who was fun to make and even more fun to eat.  Now for something to do for the other 73 days of summer . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I9xIisbL54c/TesEJcQddII/AAAAAAAAAK0/z-7B3LlOqKE/s1600/106_0606.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I9xIisbL54c/TesEJcQddII/AAAAAAAAAK0/z-7B3LlOqKE/s200/106_0606.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614585920698020994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-1572761007744919653?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/1572761007744919653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=1572761007744919653' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/1572761007744919653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/1572761007744919653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2011/06/and-so-it-begins.html' title='And So It Begins . . .'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-atcgd2pK3oU/TesFBa4Ck6I/AAAAAAAAALM/vF1Q2qYdl7w/s72-c/Mr%2BTwit' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-2548587447205312632</id><published>2011-04-19T19:08:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T19:48:28.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mormon Mom's Dilemma</title><content type='html'>Modest Prom Dress.  This is the dilemma.  And while there are shops and web sites now to help with this dilemma, price is also a factor for us.  I don't want to spend a small fortune, and I want my daughter to have a beautiful, modest dress.  I don't think that's too much to ask for.  I am not exaggerating when I say this could be the catalyst for a short stay in a mental facility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we were in England a few weeks ago and I asked my daughter if she wanted me to look in London for a dress.  She said yes and gave me 3 criteria:  long, with sleeves, and easy to match.  So I found a BEAUTIFUL dress for a great price . . . that matched only one of the criteria.  Why did I ignore the other 2? you may ask.  Did I mention how utterly pretty and shimmery it is?  And I apparently had an over-inflated estimation of my skills in being able to fix it.  So I bought it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rzwmF9RKr48/Ta5ItAeOXqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/04C5Crvg82w/s1600/106_0169.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rzwmF9RKr48/Ta5ItAeOXqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/04C5Crvg82w/s200/106_0169.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597491324926189218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-944rwuFdieE/Ta5DuKkcZ5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/q6DnI6t4qt4/s1600/106_0170.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-944rwuFdieE/Ta5DuKkcZ5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/q6DnI6t4qt4/s200/106_0170.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597485847258359698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I am paying the price.  I spent the better part of two days going to every fabric store in Provo and the Salt Lake area trying to find matching fabric.  No go.  She finally agreed I could take the chiffon scarf things that hung down the back of the dress to use for sleeves.  Spent another afternoon taking in seams to try and fit her skinny little self.  Totally messed it up and nearly had a heart attack until I figured out what I had done and was able to fix it.  I think I will need a spa day when this is finished to recover.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have bugged my sewing friends for ideas.  Jeny has sent sketches.  Gayle has inspected and offered ideas.  And Sarah (http://jaynsarah.blogspot.com/), has spent lots of time helping us with her creative genius.  Tomorrow is Project Sleeves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PjXlgzb-VhI/Ta5FaTmMJCI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/5fteNi-HUp0/s1600/106_0324.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PjXlgzb-VhI/Ta5FaTmMJCI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/5fteNi-HUp0/s200/106_0324.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597487705107473442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a rough idea of what I'm working on.  (Does it look skinnier? I've taken it in twice and have to do it again.)  Wish me luck.  I need new thread and possibly some more chiffon to add another layer under the sleeves for coverage.  And in the middle of this insanity, I am making her an Easter dress.  Did I mention I have an over-inflated opinion of my capabilities?  sigh . . .  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the top so far:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2AyCXfBf8g/Ta5JY3dcFfI/AAAAAAAAAKY/iU75hkH1vuA/s1600/106_0326.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2AyCXfBf8g/Ta5JY3dcFfI/AAAAAAAAAKY/iU75hkH1vuA/s200/106_0326.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597492078421218802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, just for fun, here is a picture of my new sewing box, which I LOVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-byLta7BnfFA/Ta5GQho8eXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/E4TExsHDWqQ/s1600/106_0333.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-byLta7BnfFA/Ta5GQho8eXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/E4TExsHDWqQ/s320/106_0333.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597488636590061938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post more tomorrow unless I'm in a padded room somewhere whispering to myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-2548587447205312632?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/2548587447205312632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=2548587447205312632' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2548587447205312632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2548587447205312632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2011/04/mormon-moms-dilemma.html' title='A Mormon Mom&apos;s Dilemma'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rzwmF9RKr48/Ta5ItAeOXqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/04C5Crvg82w/s72-c/106_0169.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-8040336695719164259</id><published>2010-03-26T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T20:39:06.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes We Make a Big Mess</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S6187gf8z6I/AAAAAAAAAJI/BUnQE8eeGNM/s1600/101_5036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S6187gf8z6I/AAAAAAAAAJI/BUnQE8eeGNM/s320/101_5036.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453152085593608098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the castle we made for Brenton's Medieval Days project.  He and Glenn built it the night before Glenn left for China (thank you, thank you!) and Brenton finished up by mixing drywall plaster and sand (in my kitchen--hence the MESS) and covering the castle.  I stepped in with my glue gun to help with the grass and we chopped the head off a dinosaur for the Loch Ness monster.  One of those projects when you breathe a HUGE sigh of relief to see it finished and not be ugly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-8040336695719164259?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/8040336695719164259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=8040336695719164259' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/8040336695719164259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/8040336695719164259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2010/03/sometimes-we-make-big-mess.html' title='Sometimes We Make a Big Mess'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S6187gf8z6I/AAAAAAAAAJI/BUnQE8eeGNM/s72-c/101_5036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-8991288220922349481</id><published>2010-03-04T09:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T09:30:23.425-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Case You're Wondering</title><content type='html'>If you're wondering why there's a shirt in my freezer, it's because it has gum on it.  I read somewhere that if you are so cursed, put the offending item in the freezer and the gum will peel right off.  So I did that but it's been a few weeks and I haven't gotten around to peeling it off yet.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So indicative of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-8991288220922349481?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/8991288220922349481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=8991288220922349481' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/8991288220922349481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/8991288220922349481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2010/03/in-case-youre-wondering.html' title='In Case You&apos;re Wondering'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-5043057217872516289</id><published>2010-01-20T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T17:25:16.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>For Those of Us Who Don't Get to Go to the Caribbean this Winter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S1tLh8Cf-RI/AAAAAAAAAIw/8vvm9QdF_f8/s1600-h/thumbnailCAAFQ8RT.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S1tLh8Cf-RI/AAAAAAAAAIw/8vvm9QdF_f8/s320/thumbnailCAAFQ8RT.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430016822149642514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling a little sorry for myself that I am not going on a cruise or a vacation to somewhere warm and balmy.  Although some warm and balmy spots (Haiti) are probably a little less fortunate than here.  OK, so no more feeling sorry for myself.  I have a home that is still standing, a family that is intact, and I can brush my teeth every morning and have a hot bath.  Life's not so bad.  And today is National Pie Day.  Just so you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a new goal for January.  It is to write down every day things that have made me happy.  Here are some things from my list so far:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*yummy food&lt;br /&gt;*the weekend&lt;br /&gt;*not using credit cards for my shopping&lt;br /&gt;*delicious nap with a fuzzy blanket and the cat&lt;br /&gt;*loyal friends&lt;br /&gt;*no sugar&lt;br /&gt;*rain boots for shovelling slush&lt;br /&gt;*dependable children&lt;br /&gt;*plowing snow this morning without crashing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm pretty sure my Boston Cream Pie that I'm going to make will make the list as well.  I've only done this for 3 days and my outlook on January is better already.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to wrap it up, here are 2 happy quotes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S1tM3zr8YLI/AAAAAAAAAI4/QxqNaPGL4jo/s1600-h/thumbnailCAOBQSNI.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 112px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S1tM3zr8YLI/AAAAAAAAAI4/QxqNaPGL4jo/s320/thumbnailCAOBQSNI.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430018297376301234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy.  By being happy we sow anonymous benefits upon the world."  Robert Louis Stevenson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S1tNTUcufEI/AAAAAAAAAJA/8GTpptRyAcg/s1600-h/thumbnailCADK9PLE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 97px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S1tNTUcufEI/AAAAAAAAAJA/8GTpptRyAcg/s320/thumbnailCADK9PLE.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430018770027314242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have two choices.  I can choose to be happy or I can choose to be sad.  I choose to be happy."  Marjorie Pay Hinckley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for today, I will choose to be happy and hope that it rubs off on the rest of the world. And if any of you are going on vacation to the Caribbean, I hope you bring me some vanilla.  Because then I will be even more happy.  The End.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-5043057217872516289?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/5043057217872516289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=5043057217872516289' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5043057217872516289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5043057217872516289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2010/01/for-those-of-us-who-dont-get-to-go-to.html' title='For Those of Us Who Don&apos;t Get to Go to the Caribbean this Winter'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S1tLh8Cf-RI/AAAAAAAAAIw/8vvm9QdF_f8/s72-c/thumbnailCAAFQ8RT.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-1944990087082859787</id><published>2010-01-09T13:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T20:55:39.352-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S0j9iETSWnI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-1owekULLwU/s1600-h/thumbnailCAAMBH7Y.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S0j9iETSWnI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-1owekULLwU/s320/thumbnailCAAMBH7Y.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424864512879778418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though this is one of my new favorite books, I am not writing about the book.  I am also not writing about pie.  What I am writing about is niceness.  Specifically, I am writing about nice people at the bottom of the pie of humanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking lately about what makes really nice people.  It is a mystery to me since deep down, I am not very nice.  I like to pretend that I am and I keep trying to be nicer, but at my core, I am selfish and mean.  So one of the hallmarks of a nice person, to me, is that when they talk to you, they like to talk about you.  (This is why I like my nice friends.)  First, they ask about all my children--and here's a secret:  Doting on my children is something I simply can't resist.  And nice people ask about things I'm interested in.  They also ask lots of questions.  Sometimes I play a game to see if I can steer the conversation topic to them so I'm not just talking about me the whole time.  It's hard to do.  And usually I'm quite happy talking about me.  But that is because I am not very nice.  There are other things, too, that nice people do--but this is the one I've been thinking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe it or not, I am trying to be a nice person.  I have it on good authority that it's possible to change your very nature, which is good, since the one I came with is pretty self-centered.  Luckily, I seem to have an inordinate number of nice friends to learn from.  Some of them might even know how to make pie, which would be nice of them to bring me.  It's just a thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-1944990087082859787?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/1944990087082859787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=1944990087082859787' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/1944990087082859787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/1944990087082859787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2010/01/sweetness-at-bottom-of-pie.html' title='The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/S0j9iETSWnI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-1owekULLwU/s72-c/thumbnailCAAMBH7Y.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-4222856006710205537</id><published>2009-12-19T10:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T10:08:41.444-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And a Little Tutu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sy0VyP-I7PI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Hq9sO6Hayno/s1600-h/101_4794.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sy0VyP-I7PI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Hq9sO6Hayno/s320/101_4794.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417009879821380850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sy0VtGunCKI/AAAAAAAAAIY/oG46vmoLpI4/s1600-h/101_4791.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sy0VtGunCKI/AAAAAAAAAIY/oG46vmoLpI4/s320/101_4791.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417009791440980130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Project #2 has been Kendyl's tutu.  I'm not especially impressed with it--I saw a tutu I was trying to copy and apparently in my mind my abilities are far greater than what they actually are.  But it's done and it's just for dress up so hopefully she'll be happy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to Project #3.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-4222856006710205537?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/4222856006710205537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=4222856006710205537' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4222856006710205537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4222856006710205537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/12/and-little-tutu.html' title='And a Little Tutu'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sy0VyP-I7PI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Hq9sO6Hayno/s72-c/101_4794.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-1632431172101863587</id><published>2009-12-19T10:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T10:02:32.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a Moment Too Soon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sy0U9SqD84I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/fsLx9oHXIGM/s1600-h/101_4795.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sy0U9SqD84I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/fsLx9oHXIGM/s320/101_4795.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417008970009408386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently the Jedi Robe will be arriving in the nick of time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-1632431172101863587?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/1632431172101863587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=1632431172101863587' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/1632431172101863587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/1632431172101863587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/12/not-moment-too-soon.html' title='Not a Moment Too Soon'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sy0U9SqD84I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/fsLx9oHXIGM/s72-c/101_4795.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-4236102987987207319</id><published>2009-12-18T19:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T19:50:05.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Jedi Robe Master</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SyxNQZ07n0I/AAAAAAAAAII/w83TxXz8Odg/s1600-h/101_4790.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SyxNQZ07n0I/AAAAAAAAAII/w83TxXz8Odg/s320/101_4790.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416789396026007362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SyxNKsEqN1I/AAAAAAAAAIA/VgIP54GYlRM/s1600-h/101_4789.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SyxNKsEqN1I/AAAAAAAAAIA/VgIP54GYlRM/s320/101_4789.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416789297844598610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't die of shock that I'm actually posting something again.  I can't even explain the busy summer and apparently fall and wow, it's December already.  I have something to share now, so maybe I'll make a habit of this again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of Garreth's current obsessions is Star Wars.  He spent the summer running with the pack of neighbor boys, all of whom were brandishing their light sabers and wearing coats or bathrobes because they were Jedi's.  Now my child usually wants to be the bad guy, but apparently his light saber is green which is the Jedi color so he had to settle for being a good guy this time.  And it dawns on me.  I could make a Jedi robe.  How cool would that be?  I have this awesome dark green fabric that I bought on sale one day and I vaguely remember buying a costume robe pattern too.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I go in search of the pattern--only to discover that it's an adult size pattern.  Why I thought I would need an adult sized Jedi robe, I don't know.  Anyway--I tried to use it as a guideline to make a smaller size robe (with the help of another variety of robe pattern that actually was the right size) and it turned out mostly okay.  The sleeves are a bit odd, but since it's supposed to be a big and drapey, hopefully it won't matter much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here's the best part of the story.  I bought him a new light saber (not a top of the line model, but a one-step-up-from-what-he-currently-has model) to go with the robe.  Weeks later while we are at ShopKo looking for church shoes for Brenton, he disappears and I find him in the toy aisle lovingly fingering the exact light saber that I already bought him.  I can't wait for Christmas morning.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm finding more joy in Christmas this year than I ever have before and I think it's because I've invested more of myself in my gift giving this year.  I'm reminded of a quote my good friend told me, "To be a good gift giver, you simply have to be a good listener."  This friend also told me to give more of myself in my presents.  So that's my new goal--to be a better giver and to invest of myself.  And ultimately that's what the Master Gift Giver does.  He, whose birth we celebrate, listens and knows us, and his gifts are perfect.  I am ever grateful for His birth, His life, and His everlasting gifts to us.  Merry Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-4236102987987207319?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/4236102987987207319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=4236102987987207319' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4236102987987207319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4236102987987207319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/12/jedi-robe-master.html' title='The Jedi Robe Master'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SyxNQZ07n0I/AAAAAAAAAII/w83TxXz8Odg/s72-c/101_4790.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-5396831860659503983</id><published>2009-06-11T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T20:02:23.496-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lending a hand'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='he&apos;s my brother'/><title type='text'>He Aint Heavy . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SjHFFvQGhOI/AAAAAAAAAHo/2bo2vmIhnys/s1600-h/101_1412.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SjHFFvQGhOI/AAAAAAAAAHo/2bo2vmIhnys/s320/101_1412.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346270935039509730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he's my brother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-5396831860659503983?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/5396831860659503983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=5396831860659503983' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5396831860659503983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5396831860659503983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/06/he-aint-heavy.html' title='He Aint Heavy . . .'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SjHFFvQGhOI/AAAAAAAAAHo/2bo2vmIhnys/s72-c/101_1412.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-4297127242508486838</id><published>2009-06-06T16:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T11:29:47.446-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home with my babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='living on a single income'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='there&apos;s no place like home'/><title type='text'>There's No Place Like Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Si6qBizYjUI/AAAAAAAAAHg/7onZuLtRTQ8/s1600-h/thumbnailCA05DMRJ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 153px; height: 160px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Si6qBizYjUI/AAAAAAAAAHg/7onZuLtRTQ8/s320/thumbnailCA05DMRJ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345396751234272578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half my family is in China.  OK, technically it's only a third.  And while I'm used to my husband being gone on business trips, I am not used to my daughter being gone for 11 days.  It's disconcerting.  It's like a part of me is missing all the time.  Anyway--that's beside the point.  The real point is that you would think with less family here, I would have more time to blog.  Sadly, this has not been the case.  With her gone and my son on a scout camp, all the weeding, watering and lawn mowing was left to me today.  I'm very tired.  But apparently, also in need of some self-expression since I'm finally sitting down to add something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just finished reading &lt;em&gt;Ellen Foster &lt;/em&gt;by Kaye Gibbons last week.  Very touching little book.  It's about a little girl who is orphaned and the road she travels to find safety and love.  One of my favorite quotes from the book is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I open the door to my house and look around for somebody to squeeze. And she is there each day in the kitchen and that is something when you consider she does not have to be there but she is there so I can squeeze her and be glad." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our first daughter was born, our budget would not balance based on just my husband's income.  But we both believed strongly in me being home so I quit my job and we reduced our outgoings to match our incoming.  We have had to do without some things over the years, but we have never looked back.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The quote sums up just one of the reasons why I am home--so that when my little kids come home from school or from playing or from wherever they've been roaming, they'll have someone waiting for them.  And while I could be somewhere else, I want to be there for squeezing and for listening and for feeding and loving.  I know it's a hard thing sometimes for a family to do, and I know that sometimes there truly is no other choice. But for us, it's been a decision we have never once regretted, no matter the trips we couldn't take or the cars we couldn't drive or the houses we couldn't live in.  I would never trade any of that for being able to squeeze my children when they come home and have them be glad I'm there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-4297127242508486838?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/4297127242508486838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=4297127242508486838' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4297127242508486838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4297127242508486838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/06/theres-no-place-like-home.html' title='There&apos;s No Place Like Home'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Si6qBizYjUI/AAAAAAAAAHg/7onZuLtRTQ8/s72-c/thumbnailCA05DMRJ.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-6824260084729886560</id><published>2009-05-15T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T09:47:32.802-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Extravaganza!</title><content type='html'>Our school has one main fundraiser all year--the spring &lt;em&gt;Extravaganza&lt;/em&gt; (carnival).  As part of the festivities, the 5th graders are asked to each donate a cake for the cake auction and cake walk.  How long have I known that my son would be a 5th grader this year and that we would need a cake?  A long time.  But we've been on vacation.  My brain is &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; on vacation. This has totally tapped my creative capacities for a long while.  And they weren't even my ideas!  At any rate, they're done and I think they turned out pretty fun.  We had a good time working together on them.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sg2bK1UzCJI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/cgQq-15F_cs/s1600-h/101_1869.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sg2bK1UzCJI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/cgQq-15F_cs/s320/101_1869.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336091743919212690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sg2bEpykwUI/AAAAAAAAAHI/JF6g_fOzGsM/s1600-h/101_1872.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sg2bEpykwUI/AAAAAAAAAHI/JF6g_fOzGsM/s320/101_1872.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336091637743665474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sg2a-qobwRI/AAAAAAAAAHA/0PAW5dHcL8A/s1600-h/101_1873.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sg2a-qobwRI/AAAAAAAAAHA/0PAW5dHcL8A/s320/101_1873.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336091534890352914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're welcome to come bid on cakes or buy a snow cone or have a little dinner tonight with hundreds or sugar-high, summer-anxious hyper kids tonight at Rock Canyon school between 4:30 and 7:30.  I can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-6824260084729886560?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/6824260084729886560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=6824260084729886560' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/6824260084729886560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/6824260084729886560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/05/extravaganza.html' title='The &lt;em&gt;Extravaganza&lt;/em&gt;!'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sg2bK1UzCJI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/cgQq-15F_cs/s72-c/101_1869.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-2059008138863629565</id><published>2009-04-27T09:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T09:50:47.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 16th!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfXX0aNdTKI/AAAAAAAAAGw/HFwqN7S_uAw/s1600-h/Glenn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfXX0aNdTKI/AAAAAAAAAGw/HFwqN7S_uAw/s320/Glenn.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329403029451787426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hit 16 years last week!  Who'd have thought we'd make it this far?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfXX43HFvJI/AAAAAAAAAG4/GXU9Gn_1rXY/s1600-h/Dara.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfXX43HFvJI/AAAAAAAAAG4/GXU9Gn_1rXY/s320/Dara.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329403105929182354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-2059008138863629565?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/2059008138863629565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=2059008138863629565' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2059008138863629565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2059008138863629565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-16th.html' title='Happy 16th!'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfXX0aNdTKI/AAAAAAAAAGw/HFwqN7S_uAw/s72-c/Glenn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-7942676846125953254</id><published>2009-04-23T11:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T11:39:44.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Don't Get</title><content type='html'>To steal a title from my good friend at jetsetcarina.blogspot.com, I don't get:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.  They drool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfC02pYug1I/AAAAAAAAAGY/U5B-SdJee2s/s1600-h/thumbnailCAEK57NS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 106px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfC02pYug1I/AAAAAAAAAGY/U5B-SdJee2s/s320/thumbnailCAEK57NS.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327957210094797650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're needy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfC1KJITP0I/AAAAAAAAAGg/H2aaFnqNmWI/s1600-h/thumbnailCAAWDOZZ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 119px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfC1KJITP0I/AAAAAAAAAGg/H2aaFnqNmWI/s320/thumbnailCAAWDOZZ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327957545033350978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also don't get this, but that's not the dog's fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfC1Y9z7T4I/AAAAAAAAAGo/io2Ww_DM2zI/s1600-h/thumbnailCAW2KN3G.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfC1Y9z7T4I/AAAAAAAAAGo/io2Ww_DM2zI/s320/thumbnailCAW2KN3G.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327957799693143938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this I seriously don't get.  I watched a guy jogging with his dog this morning, stop while the dog pooped, then pick up the poop in a plastic sack and continue to jog &lt;em&gt;with the bag of poop&lt;/em&gt;.  Now, I'm all for removing your canine feces from innocent grass, but &lt;em&gt;jog with poop&lt;/em&gt;?  Are you kidding me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-7942676846125953254?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/7942676846125953254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=7942676846125953254' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/7942676846125953254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/7942676846125953254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/04/things-i-dont-get.html' title='Things I Don&apos;t Get'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SfC02pYug1I/AAAAAAAAAGY/U5B-SdJee2s/s72-c/thumbnailCAEK57NS.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-4756521990628828319</id><published>2009-04-22T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T20:34:46.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Earth Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Se_hq_MRYLI/AAAAAAAAAGM/H2nXLxBDJ1g/s1600-h/thumbnail%5B9%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 139px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Se_hq_MRYLI/AAAAAAAAAGM/H2nXLxBDJ1g/s320/thumbnail%5B9%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327725012836245682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me or is "green" simply a code word for "really expensive"??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-4756521990628828319?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/4756521990628828319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=4756521990628828319' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4756521990628828319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4756521990628828319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/04/all-earth-day.html' title='All Earth Day'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Se_hq_MRYLI/AAAAAAAAAGM/H2nXLxBDJ1g/s72-c/thumbnail%5B9%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-2207732274810942434</id><published>2009-04-20T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T11:42:15.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Assorted Snacks</title><content type='html'>My favorite appetizer at Bombay House is the Assorted Snacks.  So here is an assortment of random thoughts for Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sey9OpyOqGI/AAAAAAAAAGE/FvXj7HJn7TI/s1600-h/101_1399.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sey9OpyOqGI/AAAAAAAAAGE/FvXj7HJn7TI/s320/101_1399.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326840518704801890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After waking up to 8 inches of snow in our yard Thursday morning (yes, this is mid-April), it was more than a pleasant thing to jump in the car and head south for Spring Break.  I think I may have been laughing hysterically at the time.  I've so had enough of winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after two flat tires, the back door of our car breaking so you couldn't shut it, the car battery going flat, and backtracking to get the tires fixed, we finally made it to Toquerville, Utah, which is just outside of Zion's National Park.  And we found sun!  We were originally going to camp in Capitol Reef, but when &lt;em&gt;their&lt;/em&gt; forecast called for snow too, you could've lost a limb had you gotten in the way of my frenzy to make a new plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the first sun of the season is always dangerous for me.  It feels so absolutely heavenly to sit in it and drink it up and I never truly believe that I need sunscreen.  The secret to sunburns, I've found, is to never sunburn your entire body at once.  So this weekend I worked on my arms; my legs shall be next.  And I declare a pox upon the people with actual pigment in their skins who can sit in the sun for no longer than 5 minutes and come away with a healthy glow.  I've got a glow, all right, but I swear you can see it throbbing right before your very eyes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my next random thought regards something funny.  I must declare in my most Uncle Albertish voice that, I love to laugh.  And this is one of the funniest things I've seen.  And it does not get less funny to me the more times I watch it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJWhw-i8CUo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Monday. And if someone wants to share how I can actually post the link for this, that would be great.  I think my brain is sunburned too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-2207732274810942434?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/2207732274810942434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=2207732274810942434' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2207732274810942434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2207732274810942434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/04/assorted-snacks.html' title='Assorted Snacks'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sey9OpyOqGI/AAAAAAAAAGE/FvXj7HJn7TI/s72-c/101_1399.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-8653122390347848108</id><published>2009-04-13T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T09:29:49.752-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Monday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SeNoZX96n9I/AAAAAAAAAF8/z-H-dqyNLwg/s1600-h/wishes%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SeNoZX96n9I/AAAAAAAAAF8/z-H-dqyNLwg/s320/wishes%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324213969621786578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-8653122390347848108?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/8653122390347848108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=8653122390347848108' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/8653122390347848108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/8653122390347848108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-monday.html' title='Happy Monday'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SeNoZX96n9I/AAAAAAAAAF8/z-H-dqyNLwg/s72-c/wishes%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-5896004730000960297</id><published>2009-03-27T16:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T17:12:23.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring According to Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1mPsy_fLI/AAAAAAAAAFU/mHV2ShbphOI/s1600-h/thumbnailCALTYV28.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 119px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1mPsy_fLI/AAAAAAAAAFU/mHV2ShbphOI/s320/thumbnailCALTYV28.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318019154903530674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are my rules for Spring:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for flowers.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for planning the garden and dreaming of children weeding it all summer long.  :)  &lt;br /&gt;Spring is for warm weather after a terribly long, cold, long, long, long winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1muVzP-1I/AAAAAAAAAFc/84HmVDN8lGY/s1600-h/thumbnailCA5RX3E1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1muVzP-1I/AAAAAAAAAFc/84HmVDN8lGY/s320/thumbnailCA5RX3E1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318019681306540882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for remembering my grandpa and for going with him to pick up sweet little widow ladies for church on Easter.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for drinking in the sun.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for picnics.&lt;br /&gt;OK, spring can be for rain.  Flowers need rain.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for walks in the rain with my husband who should have had webbed feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is NOT for sneezing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1nK7i86_I/AAAAAAAAAFk/Skbv0QOLAEg/s1600-h/thumbnailCA4RKK9C.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1nK7i86_I/AAAAAAAAAFk/Skbv0QOLAEg/s320/thumbnailCA4RKK9C.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318020172475067378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for our annual Easter egg hunts.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for remembering the real reason for Easter.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for my grandma's amazing Easter dinners.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is NOT for last minute snowstorms and thermal underwear.  That is just wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1nfyywJWI/AAAAAAAAAFs/7Va2T50sEqs/s1600-h/thumbnail%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 116px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1nfyywJWI/AAAAAAAAAFs/7Va2T50sEqs/s320/thumbnail%5B2%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318020530902672738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for the short sleeves and capris that have been hiding all winter.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is for walking outside and for listening to birds singing in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;Spring is watching the kids on the rope swing and riding up and down the street on their bikes in small teeming masses.  &lt;br /&gt;Spring is energy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1n-hbCiHI/AAAAAAAAAF0/sEnr_6yNDD0/s1600-h/thumbnail%5B9%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 106px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1n-hbCiHI/AAAAAAAAAF0/sEnr_6yNDD0/s320/thumbnail%5B9%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318021058815756402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hope is the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn't permanent."  (Jean Kerr in Finishing Touches)  Good-bye winter.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-5896004730000960297?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/5896004730000960297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=5896004730000960297' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5896004730000960297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5896004730000960297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/03/spring-according-to-me.html' title='Spring According to Me'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/Sc1mPsy_fLI/AAAAAAAAAFU/mHV2ShbphOI/s72-c/thumbnailCALTYV28.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-3715474187697373592</id><published>2009-03-17T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T22:01:28.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Walter Wonk</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/ScAL8L_rDqI/AAAAAAAAAFE/cSMSsoGoLFg/s1600-h/thumbnail%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314260688937094818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 95px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/ScAL8L_rDqI/AAAAAAAAAFE/cSMSsoGoLFg/s320/thumbnail%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 5 year old went on a field trip last week and came home &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; excited about it. I had no idea what he was talking about. I could understand "Walter" and that they had been somewhere, but it wasn't until I got the weekly newsletter from his class, that it all became clear. They had been to the BYU Museum of Fine Art to see the &lt;em&gt;Walter Wick &lt;/em&gt;exhibition. We cannot convince him that his name is Walter &lt;em&gt;Wick&lt;/em&gt;. He insists on calling him Walter Wonk. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those of you who don't know Walter Wick, he is the owner of the clever brain that makes the I Spy books.  He also does optical illusion photos.  For the record, I don't like optical illusions.  They hurt &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; clever brain.  Or not so clever as the case may be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SccXezrCYZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/h_MB9zoiOHs/s1600-h/thumbnail%5B7%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 124px; height: 160px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SccXezrCYZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/h_MB9zoiOHs/s320/thumbnail%5B7%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316243703168393618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for FHE last night, we decided to go to the museum as a family and let him be our guide. I have never seen a child so excited. He took us downstairs&lt;/div&gt; and very loudly and animatedly (is that a word?) showed us all the pictures and how you need to look for the little peg-head man in each one.  The exhibit is brilliant.  It's at the MOFA till August 1 and is well worth the visit.  It's colorful, it's clever, it's captivating, it rocks.  Kids absolutely love it and OK, I quite enjoyed it myself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for as great as the actual exhibit is, by far the best thing about our trip was a little boy getting to be in charge and getting to share with us something he had learned and experienced apart from us.  That doesn't happen often enough for the little caboose--he often feels left behind because he's too young to go where the big kids go.  Thank you, Walter Wonk, for a magical evening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-3715474187697373592?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/3715474187697373592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=3715474187697373592' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/3715474187697373592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/3715474187697373592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/03/walter-wonk.html' title='Walter Wonk'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/ScAL8L_rDqI/AAAAAAAAAFE/cSMSsoGoLFg/s72-c/thumbnail%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-682697818641633106</id><published>2009-03-06T14:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T15:39:03.780-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='service'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='small steps'/><title type='text'>Baby Steps</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SbGs1I-WhFI/AAAAAAAAAE0/pyRi_D5_CxE/s1600-h/101_1214.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SbGs1I-WhFI/AAAAAAAAAE0/pyRi_D5_CxE/s320/101_1214.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310215464588575826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally finished my apron.  I've seen these pretty frilly things for sale and figured I could make one if I just had a pattern.  I found this cute pattern at www.mariemadelinestudio.com/chicsisters and it was pretty simple.  There were a few tricky parts but I finally got through them and am very pleased with it.  I'm thinking I'll have to make myself a few more before I'm done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been reading some books set maybe 50 years ago on various farms.  One of the characters mentions putting on her apron to do some work at about the same time I had finished my apron.  I'm quite sure her apron was not a frilly thing.  It called to mind again how blessed I feel to have not only the necessities of life, but some luxuries as well.  I felt like making a pretty apron, so I bought the pattern, found some fun fabric and I made it.  I wasn't struggling to make a living, I didn't have to save up for months to buy the fabric, and I didn't have to work from sunrise to sundown harvesting anything.  By all accounts, I live a very easy life.  If anything, I spend too much time dealing with excesses--I make trips to DI to empty our house of clutter, I exercise because I've eaten too much . . .  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that the next time I feel that I &lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt; something new or I that I &lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt; a little break from my spoiled life, that I will take a minute to think about those who have less.  That I will appreciate the bounty of my rich life and express gratitude.  That I will look beyond myself and my selfish desires.  I often hesitate to help because I don't feel capable of solving world hunger, or of righting a great wrong.  And while I may not be able to help someone on the other side of the world, I do know of a friend who is ill.  Surely I can offer something small--something that will show that I am thinking of someone other than myself.  Something that maybe only I can give--or maybe it's something that anyone can give and I will be the one lucky enough to actually do it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe I will wear my apron while I do it.  I can't become too selfless all at once or no one will recognize me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-682697818641633106?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/682697818641633106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=682697818641633106' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/682697818641633106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/682697818641633106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/03/baby-steps.html' title='Baby Steps'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SbGs1I-WhFI/AAAAAAAAAE0/pyRi_D5_CxE/s72-c/101_1214.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-2894635456218380152</id><published>2009-02-17T08:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T08:25:05.983-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='5 year olds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='light of my life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='small catastrophes'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZrh8Gjbz3I/AAAAAAAAAD8/jtNhok790Q8/s1600-h/003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 152px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZrh8Gjbz3I/AAAAAAAAAD8/jtNhok790Q8/s320/003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303799933849816946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZriBjbKHPI/AAAAAAAAAEE/d3r64yboCUY/s1600-h/004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 90px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZriBjbKHPI/AAAAAAAAAEE/d3r64yboCUY/s320/004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303800027499076850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This would be the 5 year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZriOzIo1RI/AAAAAAAAAEM/u9rUh5y2weE/s1600-h/002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZriOzIo1RI/AAAAAAAAAEM/u9rUh5y2weE/s320/002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303800255054664978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He makes me smile a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZriXfQnc5I/AAAAAAAAAEU/x9mBgMRTA-4/s1600-h/001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZriXfQnc5I/AAAAAAAAAEU/x9mBgMRTA-4/s320/001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303800404338242450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it wrong to laugh at this? The accident report is so cute. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZri-JFUFfI/AAAAAAAAAEc/dKddFGcpw-8/s1600-h/101_1164+-+Copy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZri-JFUFfI/AAAAAAAAAEc/dKddFGcpw-8/s320/101_1164+-+Copy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303801068400154098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still my all time favorite.  Your day can't possibly ever be as bad as this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZrkqyFVudI/AAAAAAAAAEs/iZHj3pF7Ofs/s1600-h/005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZrkqyFVudI/AAAAAAAAAEs/iZHj3pF7Ofs/s320/005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303802934831987154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He makes me crazy every day, but I absolutely love him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-2894635456218380152?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/2894635456218380152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=2894635456218380152' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2894635456218380152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2894635456218380152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/02/things-that-make-me-smile.html' title='Things That Make Me Smile'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZrh8Gjbz3I/AAAAAAAAAD8/jtNhok790Q8/s72-c/003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-3798745946130303769</id><published>2009-02-13T18:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T18:45:52.721-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leather accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abas leather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='a gift for me'/><title type='text'>Happy Valentine's Day to Me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZYuUn9v-FI/AAAAAAAAADs/PrrbviNAeoI/s1600-h/101_1181.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZYuUn9v-FI/AAAAAAAAADs/PrrbviNAeoI/s320/101_1181.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302476543135578194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just had to share my beautiful new clutch that arrived in the mail today from my friend, Bill Devaney, at Abas Leather.  You can see their full line of products at http://www.abasaccessories.com.  They have &lt;em&gt;beautiful&lt;/em&gt; things.  I typically go for black--clothes, accessories, shoes, handbags . . . This is kind of exciting and brave for me to try "berry."  Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf and be more adventurous.  We can always hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-3798745946130303769?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/3798745946130303769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=3798745946130303769' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/3798745946130303769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/3798745946130303769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/02/happy-valentines-day-to-me.html' title='Happy Valentine&apos;s Day to Me!'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SZYuUn9v-FI/AAAAAAAAADs/PrrbviNAeoI/s72-c/101_1181.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-9090649513670316899</id><published>2009-02-03T10:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T16:58:15.997-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nerdness</title><content type='html'>I am a cool mom.  My oldest son has been working on a Colonial unit at school and some of you will remember the coat and vest I made him for that.  He wanted to dress up again as Paul Revere for one of his projects so I made him a matching hat yesterday.  How cool is that?  I was going to post a picture but it turned out kind of retarded.  So I guess that lowers the coolness factor.  Significantly.  At least he was happy with it and went off to school wearing it today.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the story of my life.  I guess I've always been a nerd, although I won't admit that to my husband.  But I have halfway cool ideas and I try to prove that I am, after all, a cool person.  But then my execution fails slightly and in the end, I'm still a nerd.  Oh well.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's shocking really when you see how well I used to dress:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SYoHtKHbOrI/AAAAAAAAADk/jYAJJZnCvYA/s1600-h/JanFeb08+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 223px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SYoHtKHbOrI/AAAAAAAAADk/jYAJJZnCvYA/s320/JanFeb08+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299056383945816754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-9090649513670316899?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/9090649513670316899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=9090649513670316899' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/9090649513670316899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/9090649513670316899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/02/nerdness.html' title='Nerdness'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SYoHtKHbOrI/AAAAAAAAADk/jYAJJZnCvYA/s72-c/JanFeb08+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-2533900007992946363</id><published>2009-01-26T13:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T13:06:12.218-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quilting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Storage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sewing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='organization'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='furniture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scrapbooking'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;iframe src="https://www.fusionquest.com/cgi-bin/main/hotlinks.cgi?aflt=scrapbox&amp;amp;client=scrapbox" frameborder="0" width="0" height="0"&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.fusionquest.com/cgi-bin/main/hotlinks.cgi?aflt=scrapbox&amp;client=scrapbox" width="'1'" height="'1'" border="'0'" /&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theoriginalscrapbox.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.theoriginalscrapbox.com/images/banner_ad_336x280_01.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-2533900007992946363?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/2533900007992946363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=2533900007992946363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2533900007992946363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2533900007992946363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-5399071370756821327</id><published>2009-01-23T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T11:54:26.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Art of Saying No</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SX9maYHVdVI/AAAAAAAAADU/wyKVBNmk7eg/s1600-h/101_1138.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SX9maYHVdVI/AAAAAAAAADU/wyKVBNmk7eg/s320/101_1138.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296064290146841938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be clear that whenever possible, I like to say yes.  I've been helped immensely in my life by people who couldn't say no, and even better--they did it cheerfully! That being said, I want to post a small part of something I found on www.getorganizednow.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;How to Say NO, and Still Feel Good About Yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people find it very difficult to say no when someone makes a request of them. They will say yes even when they know they really don't want to do it or don't even have the time to do it. Keep the following information in mind the next time someone asks you do something so you can say no and still feel good about yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. It is important to remember that saying no is a choice. In any situation, you have the choice to either say yes or say no. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Be a person of integrity. To be a person of integrity means saying no sometimes. Saying no simply means that you want to stay true to the commitments you have already made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Keep your priorities in mind. Saying no to the things that are not on your priority list is perfectly acceptable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Saying no is not a sign of weakness. It indicates that you know your own strengths, abilities and limitations. If you don't want to say no, then learn to say 'not right now' instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Compare how you feel when you say yes to something and want to do it to when you say yes to something and really wanted to say no. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I firmly believe that there are times to say no.  I have a tendency in my life to agree to too much.  My ambitions or good intentions or feelings of guilt or wanting to please, etc. etc. entice me into putting too much on my plate.  Then I end up feeling stressed and overwhelmed and guess what--I take it out on my family.  It is a constant challenge for me to keep things balanced and to only take on what I have the time and energy to fulfill.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something I learned a long time ago is that if I don't protect my time with my family, no one else will.  There will always be some cause or demand that will take everything I have to give and will not care in the end that I didn't do what I really wanted to do--be loving and patient and fun with my family.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here's a thought for you and a reminder for myself:  It's okay to say no sometimes so you can choose to say yes to the things that are really important.  So if you want me, I'll be snuggled up with my 5 year old and some books and a cup of hot chocolate.  Don't call.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-5399071370756821327?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/5399071370756821327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=5399071370756821327' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5399071370756821327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5399071370756821327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/01/art-of-saying-no.html' title='The Art of Saying No'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SX9maYHVdVI/AAAAAAAAADU/wyKVBNmk7eg/s72-c/101_1138.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-6524435961611521535</id><published>2009-01-19T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T07:58:49.123-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sizzlin&apos; chicken'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='a little heat'/><title type='text'>A Little Heat for January</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SXTYx4VqL0I/AAAAAAAAADM/xtFvJGvuVhA/s1600-h/thumbnailCA56XHSH.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SXTYx4VqL0I/AAAAAAAAADM/xtFvJGvuVhA/s320/thumbnailCA56XHSH.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293093813515595586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's cold and my furnace is having issues.  If anyone else needs a little heat in their January, here's one of my favorite recipes--Cajun Chicken Pasta.  Also, if anyone is interested, check out www.pioneerwoman.com and search for her Crash Hot Potatoes recipe.  I made them last night and oh, my.  It's my new favorite.  One other note--nothing I cook turns out like the pictures in the recipe.  My potatoes were definitely nothing like hers--but they were so delicious.  Keep that in mind with this recipe and know that it's yummy even if the pictures are lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cajun Chicken Pasta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 boneless skinless chicken breast halves, cut into thin strips&lt;br /&gt;4 t Cajun (Creole) seasoning&lt;br /&gt;4 T butter or margarine&lt;br /&gt;16 slices each green and sweet red pepper&lt;br /&gt;8 large fresh mushrooms, sliced&lt;br /&gt;2 green onions, sliced&lt;br /&gt;2-4 cups heavy cream&lt;br /&gt;1/2 t dried basil&lt;br /&gt;1/2 t lemon-pepper seasoning&lt;br /&gt;1/2 t salt&lt;br /&gt;1/4 t garlic powder&lt;br /&gt;1/4 t pepper&lt;br /&gt;8 oz linguine, cooked and drained&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Place chicken and Cajun seasoning in a bowl or resealable plastic bag; toss or shake to coat.  In a large skillet over medium heat, saute chicken in butter until almost tender, about 5-7 minutes.  Add peppers, mushrooms and onion; cook and stir for 2-3 minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SXTWSg2QgsI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VLSaie1Q7-s/s1600-h/101_1118.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SXTWSg2QgsI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VLSaie1Q7-s/s320/101_1118.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293091075610673858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reduce heat.  Add cream and seasonings; heat through.  Add linguine and toss; heat through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SXTWfZC-o6I/AAAAAAAAADE/MK_yCLUZTNg/s1600-h/101_1120.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SXTWfZC-o6I/AAAAAAAAADE/MK_yCLUZTNg/s320/101_1120.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293091296854844322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-6524435961611521535?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/6524435961611521535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=6524435961611521535' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/6524435961611521535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/6524435961611521535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/01/little-heat-for-january.html' title='A Little Heat for January'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SXTYx4VqL0I/AAAAAAAAADM/xtFvJGvuVhA/s72-c/thumbnailCA56XHSH.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-5042044056670335345</id><published>2009-01-13T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T12:40:22.377-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here's to Plodding Along</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SWz45UrtoUI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ToHlM_mhX4w/s1600-h/101_1116.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SWz45UrtoUI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ToHlM_mhX4w/s320/101_1116.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290877325941776706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cat has taken over her drawer again.  I had a half-finished project in her drawer for a few months and she was displaced, but she has returned.  I sometimes feel like my life consists of half-finished projects.  I read a blog recently where she said when we work on resolutions we should be like the tortoise, not the hare.  I liked that idea because if anything, I am a tortoise.  I'm not fast and I'm not flashy, but if you want consistent effort, I'm your girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I resolved for the new year to get caught up on scrapbooks.  When my oldest was little, I started scrapbooking for her and worked on it every month.  She has a book for every year of her life.  Now that I have 4 kids, it makes me crazy.  But I can't give up their books--I hate the thought of the youngest thinking he is less important than my first.  Isn't that what youngest kids always think since there end up being less photos of them?  So I'm determined to prove something--that I'm a good parent or that I really love all my kids or something.  So I counted up how many months I was behind on all their books--for a grand total of 29.  I figured if I finished one month a day, I could be caught up in a month!  Beautiful goal.  And so far so good.  I stayed on track last week and finished 2 months' worth yesterday.  The success makes me giddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously the principle applies to anything we want to accomplish.  Break the insurmountable goal up into little pieces and consistently hack away at it.  So that's my brilliant thought for the day.  Good luck, keep plugging away, and sooner or later you'll get there and the cat can move back in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-5042044056670335345?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/5042044056670335345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=5042044056670335345' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5042044056670335345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5042044056670335345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/01/heres-to-plodding-along.html' title='Here&apos;s to Plodding Along'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SWz45UrtoUI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ToHlM_mhX4w/s72-c/101_1116.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-8996407692957644223</id><published>2009-01-01T12:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T21:20:28.932-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fresh Start</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SV0vdmiXYSI/AAAAAAAAACs/rW82EKqIPVs/s1600-h/thumbnail%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 106px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SV0vdmiXYSI/AAAAAAAAACs/rW82EKqIPVs/s320/thumbnail%5B3%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286433723210228002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that time of year again.  Time to evaluate where we've been and where we're going.  I recently read a talk by Gerald Causse, in which he observes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In his philosophical short story &lt;em&gt;The Little Prince&lt;/em&gt;, Antoine de Saint-Exupery describes the confusion of a little boy who, on discovering a field of roses, perceives that the flower he has, which he has tended with such love, is not unique but very ordinary.  Then he comes to the realization that the thing that makes his rose unique is not its outward appearance but the time and the love he has consecrated to taking care of it."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I had learned this lesson years ago, but apparently I didn't.  I have been feeling overwhelmed with my "tending" tasks--tasks which never seem to end and which have to be done over and over again.  And by overwhelmed I mean that I feel like a raving lunatic by the end of the day.  I seriously think they lied to me when they installed my granite countertops.  I swear they're large black magnets.  Yet, I should be feeling joy--joy that I've been blessed with a handsome husband who works hard to provide for our family, joy that I've been blessed with four lovely children, and joy that I'm able to spend my time and love on my little family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for this New Year's resolution, I hereby resolve to stop complaining so much, and to see my time tending my little roses as a consecration.  To lovingly prepare dinner for them.  To patiently respond to a thousand questions about why we can't wear pajamas all day or poke other people with the Pick Up Stix.  To cheerfully clean all the toilets in the house.            &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bahahahahahahahaha  OK, that's pushing it.  But I'm sure you see the point.  That's the resolution anyway.  Be sure you remind me on January 15 when I'm complaining about dirty socks all over the house, what my resolution was.  In the meantime, stop and smell the roses, hope they're wearing clean socks and that their mom is not in the asylum.  Happy New Year's!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-8996407692957644223?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/8996407692957644223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=8996407692957644223' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/8996407692957644223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/8996407692957644223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2009/01/fresh-start.html' title='A Fresh Start'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SV0vdmiXYSI/AAAAAAAAACs/rW82EKqIPVs/s72-c/thumbnail%5B3%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-7700808603965506855</id><published>2008-12-18T14:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T14:18:30.802-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I love Christmas.  I love the smells, I love the colors, I love the music, I love the food.  I don't love the inevitable weight gain, but hey, that's what sales on exercise equipment are for, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I LOVE kids at Christmas.  Here's a present my 5 year old wrapped for his sister by himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SUrL_Fsas5I/AAAAAAAAACc/ROZ3HcgzA1c/s1600-h/101_0943.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SUrL_Fsas5I/AAAAAAAAACc/ROZ3HcgzA1c/s320/101_0943.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281257797766001554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the card that goes with it--which reads, "You will love this present.  I love you."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SUrMIDXi61I/AAAAAAAAACk/KnlHz7q3lyM/s1600-h/101_0944.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SUrMIDXi61I/AAAAAAAAACk/KnlHz7q3lyM/s320/101_0944.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281257951760411474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like these children are my presents.  They are my loves, my laughter, sometimes my frustrations, my life.  I love them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-7700808603965506855?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/7700808603965506855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=7700808603965506855' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/7700808603965506855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/7700808603965506855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-love-christmas.html' title=''/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SUrL_Fsas5I/AAAAAAAAACc/ROZ3HcgzA1c/s72-c/101_0943.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-7226562200108367725</id><published>2008-12-10T11:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T11:34:21.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm back!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SUAX6IvUDqI/AAAAAAAAACE/VR-LPX08MS8/s1600-h/101_0915.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SUAX6IvUDqI/AAAAAAAAACE/VR-LPX08MS8/s320/101_0915.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278245050824003234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband mocks me that I never have my scrapbox closed and looking pretty like this.  I assure him it's because I'm always working on lots of very important things.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between Thanksgiving and Christmas in my family we have two birthdays.  So that's two friend parties, two family parties, shopping, baking, etc. etc.  Add to that, this year we had a big family celebration this past weekend where my two sisters and their families (that would be eight children under the age of 11) stayed for the weekend, plus lunch for 70 on Saturday.  Now add to that all the normal Christmas stuff--and you can maybe see why I feel like I'm stretched about as far as I can stretch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would really like to hear suggestions on how you balance all this Christmas stress.  Isn't this supposed to be the season of Peace on Earth?  I'm not feeling especially peaceful at the moment.  And while I know with one part of my brain that the answer is to do less--to simplify, to let some things go--the other part of my brain is a raving lunatic for insisting it all be done.  Every goodie not baked, every Christmas card not written is someone left out and I can't live with myself if I do that.  So . . . how do you manage it?  Seriously.  I'll be in the kitchen while I wait, whipping up some more goodies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-7226562200108367725?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/7226562200108367725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=7226562200108367725' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/7226562200108367725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/7226562200108367725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m back!'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SUAX6IvUDqI/AAAAAAAAACE/VR-LPX08MS8/s72-c/101_0915.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-4300987375506706083</id><published>2008-11-18T12:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T13:21:11.057-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Piles of Paper</title><content type='html'>I have a confession.  I scrapbook the way I sew (only with less swearing)--I love buying paper and fabric more than I like to do the actual project.  I get very excited in the store with the vision of all the wonderful things I will do . . . and then I get home.  Finding the quiet and the time to sit and create something meaningful is hard--mostly I'm happy to just get some thoughts on paper and try to scrapbook in the same decade as the pictures.  And there is a definite link between my sense of well-being and cupboards full of food, pantries full of supplies, scrapboxes full of paper.  At any rate, I can't seem to stop buying and collecting more goodies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SSMtDqiHIeI/AAAAAAAAABE/2SnXRDu9FxA/s1600-h/101_0819.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SSMtDqiHIeI/AAAAAAAAABE/2SnXRDu9FxA/s320/101_0819.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270105529933832674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the reasons I love my scrapbox is because it gives me lots of places to organize all that paper.  One of my favorite features is that all the shelves are adjustable.  I can create big shelves, small shelves, or just have an open shelf for fun.  I keep paper and scrapbooking stuff in some of the drawers, gift bags and tissue in more drawers, and paint and craft stuff for the kids in some of the other drawers.  It has become a little craft room all in one cupboard.  (The cat has even crawled in a box or two--the naughty thing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SSMtfb72BBI/AAAAAAAAABM/ueyvZOfL9-w/s1600-h/101_0820.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SSMtfb72BBI/AAAAAAAAABM/ueyvZOfL9-w/s320/101_0820.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270106007051568146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I love the doors.  All the pouches come with velcro on the back so you can rearrange all of your tools anytime you like.  My children think I'm obsessed with velcro.  Wouldn't it be lovely if velcro worked on mouths . . . Mostly I love pictures--I love to be surrounded by reminders of people I love and places I've been.  I even attached velcro on the back of other things I want to hang--pictures, charts, reminders to buy more velcro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday I'll get the whole thing organized and looking pretty.  For now, here are the two little snapshots.  And I'm thinking there's room in some of those drawers for more paper.  Must be time to go shopping again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-4300987375506706083?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/4300987375506706083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=4300987375506706083' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4300987375506706083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4300987375506706083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2008/11/piles-of-paper.html' title='Piles of Paper'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SSMtDqiHIeI/AAAAAAAAABE/2SnXRDu9FxA/s72-c/101_0819.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-4603726238570390619</id><published>2008-11-12T08:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T09:48:54.452-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='service'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall'/><title type='text'>Legacies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRsW-sWd_II/AAAAAAAAAA8/HSKSmMRu8Do/s1600-h/101_0796.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 318px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRsW-sWd_II/AAAAAAAAAA8/HSKSmMRu8Do/s320/101_0796.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267829455453027458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fall is a bittersweet time for me.  Bitter because the leaves are all falling--the glorious colors are at an end and the endless winter is just around the corner.  But it's also a sweet time for me because of the almost overwhelming memories that come of my grandma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fall was her favorite season.  Fall colors were her favorite colors.  Thanksgiving was a wonderful time at her house--the smells, the feelings, the sounds.  Sounds of my cousins joining with us to play annie-annie over and then there was that special game of rolling pool table balls under the bed where people were hiding and the sounds of chipping teeth. She spent hours in the kitchen for us--just one more day in her life of service of others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often have the sense that she is with me--usually on my morning walks.  I think of her in her garden, I think of her sewing for me, I think of her caring for her mother in her later years, I think of her feeding all my high school friends lunch, I think of shopping with her, I think of sleeping over on Friday nights and I remember that when I wanted to run away I was going to go to her house.  She was my champion, my haven, my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often wonder if she is pleased with me and my life today.  Would she approve of my service to others?  Would she think I was full of good works as she was?  Would she be tickled with my children and happy with the way we are raising them?  Would she be proud of me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I wonder if I have taught my children well enough about her life and the kind of person she was.  Have I shared my favorite memories of her with them?  Have I told them that who I am today is in large measure a result of her love?  I'm afraid that as often as I think of her, I haven't shared those thoughts enough with my children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I will sit down at my little table and I will craft something for their books about their Greatma, my grandma. If not today, then when?  It not today, I know it will get pushed down the list of my good intentions and remain there until I am less busy or more inspired or more or less something.  I want her to be a part of their lives now, while they're growing.  I want them to know her and love her and to have their hearts filled with love for her even as the autumn leaves fill the air.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-4603726238570390619?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/4603726238570390619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=4603726238570390619' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4603726238570390619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/4603726238570390619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2008/11/legacies.html' title='Legacies'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRsW-sWd_II/AAAAAAAAAA8/HSKSmMRu8Do/s72-c/101_0796.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-2536080122432750038</id><published>2008-11-10T16:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T16:41:31.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Scrapbook</title><content type='html'>Yesterday the kids were looking at their books.  My youngest son was looking at his book from when he was "none" (his baby one).  He came across the picture of him in the blessing gown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain about the gown.  My husband's father was blessed in the gown.  My husband was blessed in the gown.  All of our children were blessed in the gown--including the boys.  My husband insists that it's a "gown" and not a dress.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he spies the gown and says, oh, that's a picture of his sister.  I said, no, that's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;.  At which point he shouts, "Who put me in a princess dress?!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-2536080122432750038?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/2536080122432750038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=2536080122432750038' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2536080122432750038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/2536080122432750038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2008/11/why-i-scrapbook.html' title='Why I Scrapbook'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-6333770884858591477</id><published>2008-11-08T17:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T15:47:46.871-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Slight " Mess</title><content type='html'>OK, I'm new to blogging.  My husband set the blog up for me and has encouraged me to share how I use my scrapbox.  I have to laugh at the "slight mess" comment.  That's a "slight" understatement.  Let's just say that the "slight mess" was threatening to take on a life of its own.  And it was discouraging to even start a scrapbooking project since the mess would come out and stay in the living room or on the dining room table for far too long.  I seem to have trouble finishing a project quickly.  Too many interruptions!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway--the scrapbox has been a fabulous organizing tool.  I've got a separate drawer for everything, all my tools at my fingertips, and when I need to clean it up, everything goes in its place, I close the doors and it's beautiful.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing I've really enjoyed is using it for more than scrapbooking.  I have drawers for shopping ads and coupons, drawers for budgets and receipts, drawers for special projects I'm working on, and the kids have even commandeered drawers for themselves to keep some of their projects organized.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my recent projects was sewing a colonial style vest and coat for my son's Colonial Days at school.  It took far longer than I thought it would (I seem to have a habit of grossly underestimating the time it takes for anything to be done) and it's full of mistakes, but I'll attach a picture anyway.  The scrapbox was a big help since I was able to use the table as an extra surface while I was working on the coat.  I don't know why I spend hours and hours working on something that will be worn once--I guess if he feels special for the day because he has something I've made for him, then it's worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SSNTR1oHNRI/AAAAAAAAABc/tM2Mp5tDUiM/s1600-h/101_0789.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SSNTR1oHNRI/AAAAAAAAABc/tM2Mp5tDUiM/s320/101_0789.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270147554871817490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  My drawers are messy.  Organizing THEM is on my list of things to do.  Maybe after the kids all leave home I'll have time . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-6333770884858591477?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/6333770884858591477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=6333770884858591477' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/6333770884858591477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/6333770884858591477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2008/11/slight-mess.html' title='&quot;Slight &quot; Mess'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SSNTR1oHNRI/AAAAAAAAABc/tM2Mp5tDUiM/s72-c/101_0789.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492132903401180441.post-5153561525507072284</id><published>2008-11-03T15:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T08:21:00.503-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quilting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Storage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='organization'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='furniture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craft'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scrapbooking'/><title type='text'>Best Storage Design Scrapbooking Furniture</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;iframe src="https://www.fusionquest.com/cgi-bin/main/hotlinks.cgi?aflt=scrapbox&amp;amp;client=scrapbox" frameborder="0" width="0" height="0"&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.fusionquest.com/cgi-bin/main/hotlinks.cgi?aflt=scrapbox&amp;client=scrapbox" width="'1'" height="'1'" border="'0'" /&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theoriginalscrapbox.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.theoriginalscrapbox.com/images/banner_ad_336x280_01.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;After nearly 2 years of using my Scrapbox, I have decided to start a blog about Storage and Organization. My husband designed and produced the Scrapbox after seeing the slight mess in my living room while doing scrapbooking for my kids. After making the first one for me, he decided to make a whole bunch of them and sell them. He has now sold over 2,000+ Scrapboxes all over the world. The Scrapbox "Workbox" won the CHA (Craft and Hobbies Association) best storage solution prize last year. It has been a lot of fun watching the huge success of this one product.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please check out &lt;a href="http://www.theoriginalscrapbox.com/?scrapbox"&gt;http://www.theoriginalscrapbox.com&lt;/a&gt; to see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-840195ab483d9deb" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D840195ab483d9deb%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331694961%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D58A0188796C7BC4922007BC1739DE47FAD3C1CE4.17A178576EE37D4FACCC72D185A1165E872EE3D1%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D840195ab483d9deb%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DT8RLShy8pbi01OhuXC4Ri6F-krM&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D840195ab483d9deb%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331694961%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D58A0188796C7BC4922007BC1739DE47FAD3C1CE4.17A178576EE37D4FACCC72D185A1165E872EE3D1%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D840195ab483d9deb%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DT8RLShy8pbi01OhuXC4Ri6F-krM&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1492132903401180441-5153561525507072284?l=theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=840195ab483d9deb&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/feeds/5153561525507072284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1492132903401180441&amp;postID=5153561525507072284' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5153561525507072284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1492132903401180441/posts/default/5153561525507072284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theoriginalscrapbox.blogspot.com/2008/11/best-storage-design-scrapbooking.html' title='Best Storage Design Scrapbooking Furniture'/><author><name>ScrapBox Organization &amp;amp; Storage</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05935758065569178009</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='11' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TNRmytpchk/SRW3yGJM1oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_kxxuW-uKUE/S220/scrapboxlogo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
