tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74774546094687134902024-03-05T21:16:17.583-10:00Barrett OhanaSarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-91248133581595202272010-06-14T06:43:00.003-10:002010-06-14T07:04:20.190-10:00Seven degrees of Digression1. Abra graduated from 6th grade. I remember graduating from 6th grade. They said, "see you next year." Abra got a full scale graduation. With lots of little girls in skimpy prom dresses, balloons, a speaker from the high school who promised them more work, no recess, and no playground. And a DJ, which seems way overblown, but isn't when I tell you he played the same song the whole time.<br /><br />2. My sister Hannah graduated from high school and is currently drinking tea and eating Jammie Dodgers in England with her friends. I am uber proud of her. And even more proud that she is leaving home (go, Beatles reference) this fall to go to more school.<br /><br />3. Both of them had birthdays, 12 and 18 respectively. This made me feel old. Like crusty old, especially since I remember when both of them were born. I remember watching them toddle around and Hannah making me watch Barney for the bazillionth time and Abra making me watch an equal number of Blue's Clues. To be sure, Abra's twinged my heart a bit more, but both are equally baffling. How did they get to be that big?<br /><br />4. Ruth also turned 3. See above.<br /><br />5. I finished my first year at Feather River and most of the general ed is done. I believe I have to follow around my old nemesis, Math, for a bit longer. Next semester I get to actually start some interesting classes, but now that I've said that, they won't be.<br /><br />6. Right before the end of term, I did two things: 6a) joined the local roller derby team, making my life both richer and infinitely more complex; and 6b) received an award from my English teacher for writing the best essay she's read in 32 years of teaching. Got my picture in the paper and everything, but of course it helps when your mom works at the paper.<br /><br />7. Jeff has taken the kiddos out to Utah for three weeks and I, lonely soul that I am, get to stay at my mum's house all that time. By myself, as my mom is currently touring Italy for her anniversary. I know, I was jealous too. However, when first doing calculations on any amount of time I have been without kids, I would have to say see #3. I'll shave some time off for Marine Corps work and a little more good behavior, but mostly, it's 12. Before I begin a whole other year of school and derby and work and kids with no husband two weeks at a time, I need to detox.<br /><br />And now, six degrees of Kevin Bacon.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-75819224009381349932010-04-18T07:36:00.004-10:002010-04-18T08:24:49.585-10:00The Derby Post<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6IVEbfjx6wvF4foHZ7S3AoXYSudqwggaD59M3QWqn2whKaq3x1QJBq5iPJIJtpjL6vj8XcI4ifdp8LCNNodBb8gX4XhjfIz_s6T5aAT6jOqZXbyKhxDP2GaZK-g16YomCfSt7iD8FQCes/s1600/derby.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 376px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461533945449384402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6IVEbfjx6wvF4foHZ7S3AoXYSudqwggaD59M3QWqn2whKaq3x1QJBq5iPJIJtpjL6vj8XcI4ifdp8LCNNodBb8gX4XhjfIz_s6T5aAT6jOqZXbyKhxDP2GaZK-g16YomCfSt7iD8FQCes/s320/derby.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>Since I have been skating for about a month, I figured I had better break down and write about derby. I have pictures of all my wicked bruises, but I will save that for a later date.</div><div>My high school friend, Vicki, has been skating with the Reno Roller Girls for quite some time. I was uber-jealous. Like seething really. Love her that I do, I thought there's no way that skinny waif can do derby. Seriously, she shops in the kid section for crying out loud. We're talking 100 pounds, maybe, like on Thanksgiving after she's eaten the entire bowl of mashed potatoes. So when I was virtually attacked at one of her bouts by the Plumas Mudslingers who do derby near me, I was stoked.</div><div>And then reality kicked in. Wait, I thought, I can't do this. I have school. I have kids, four of them. My husband is not here for two weeks at a time. I have no one to babysit for those two nights a week. And oh yeah, never really worn a pair of skates. Like ever. Never did those team sport activity things. I was too busy getting high behind the drama theatre with my friends. In truth, I was a pretty self-secluded teenager. You know, emo before they had a name for it.</div><div>But, oh, I really love this game. It's beautiful, like poetry in motion. I know that's very cliche, but it's true. Watching derby is akin to that same feeling I used to have as a little kid when I would watch Michael Jackson dance. I wanna do that. Please, please, lemme do that. Derby's the only sport I have ever watched and thought that about. Again, like ever. It's eventual, absolutely eventual. You can say whatever you like about Michael.</div><div>So, I bought a pair of skates from Vic for $40 and went to a practice. Ohmigosh, what they must have thought of me. No gear, my skates had no toe stops, and the only reason I never fell on my ass was that God liked me that day. It was pathetic. Then we upgraded to toe stops and crap gear and I fell on my ass every two seconds. I bring all my kids to practice when Jeff's not here, I play sick, I play tired, I play sore. Friday, I got two skates to the ribs and a skate to the kneecap and when Shane, the assistant coach, said I was done skating, I actually bawled. I really love this game.</div><div>Our first bout is on this Friday, the 23rd. With the exception of my leg being amputated, I will be there, skating. Even if it got amputated, I would still be there skating. Welcome, friends, to my new obsession.</div><br /><div></div><div>Oh, alright, here's my bruise.</div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxfk16C1FhVWg_iOqlgFq9HTTwgGWKoIxN2JTs0JFIxb-DJ2KUlpMntO_k0aMfJotx419Xq4nk3SFbvB2O-0n-H7MSt3CCDsOsPVuN5VA0uLNwO3YiCUElrqwqcyXgP0Z8pLtbOlNgPuU/s1600/derby+bruise.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461544591814772738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxfk16C1FhVWg_iOqlgFq9HTTwgGWKoIxN2JTs0JFIxb-DJ2KUlpMntO_k0aMfJotx419Xq4nk3SFbvB2O-0n-H7MSt3CCDsOsPVuN5VA0uLNwO3YiCUElrqwqcyXgP0Z8pLtbOlNgPuU/s320/derby+bruise.JPG" /></a>Isn't she lovely.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-50096741299256526002010-03-05T09:01:00.004-10:002010-03-05T09:21:03.291-10:00There is no charge for awesomeness...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeAw6SUm4zU8nubDDSzz_JY3noUSD7H-vFa5n9-OEdYPvzxA-luchdeN-N4QNCtVO08jY3PGkAcRl3HdsS3feLj5nFX7CdSXZuG7NzfD1hefIWWg8uJdBNUMgx_fx_1sqGVr4OcnIrnYK/s1600-h/Picture+051.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445231622477733570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeAw6SUm4zU8nubDDSzz_JY3noUSD7H-vFa5n9-OEdYPvzxA-luchdeN-N4QNCtVO08jY3PGkAcRl3HdsS3feLj5nFX7CdSXZuG7NzfD1hefIWWg8uJdBNUMgx_fx_1sqGVr4OcnIrnYK/s320/Picture+051.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-73363994459372800872010-03-03T18:22:00.003-10:002010-03-03T18:51:53.257-10:00Hinamatsuri-Girl's DayOkay, so no have the china dolls that actually started this tradition. And no are actually Japanese. But I like the idea of a day to celebrate girls. March 3 used to be Girl's Day and May 5 was Boy's Day, but then they got combined into Children's Day on May 5th. But we Hawaiians jus' celebrate wheneva. So we borrowed it and I picked up both my girls early from school and we hit the town.<br />That took about five minutes.<br />Well, maybe an hour. I gave my girls balloons, instead of peach blossoms, which are for some reason in short supply when it's the middle of winter and snowing. I took them to the toy store where Ruth played with the Thomas trains the whole time but decided on a stuffed panda in a purse to take home instead. Abra wanted to know how much and then picked something under the budget line. It didn't even have to squeak under it. She's making crystals. No, not the meth ones, you nutjobs.<br />Then we went home and made mochi that probably only I am going to eat, musubi which has nothing to do with Girl's Day but we missed it, and katsu chicken because I thought no one would eat oyako donburi, it being something gross called soup. But no one ate the katsu chicken either. That rice, though, whew it disappeared instantly.<br />I want to feel that I have trashed a genuine Japanese tradition by making it all haole, but at the same time cannot feel truly sorry for using it to celebrate my girls. All my children suffer from a lack of quality time, I'm sure, but I want them to feel special. If that means giving them an extra holiday out of the year, then so be it. And I think the fact that Japan has a holiday called Children's Day and America is lacking in one, says something about America that I would punch a foreigner for saying (ok, not really). Our children need to feel valued, even if it's only one extra day a year. Fly kites and pick flowers, instead of practice and homework. As a country, we tend to focus on kids as if they are burdens, what with being all capitalist and busy. Love them, yes, but rejoice in them also.<br />I know. That last bit was a little granola-y, even for me. True, but cheesy nonetheless.<br />So mark your calendars, you don't have to do both. No worries, one extra day is all.<br />The Girls' is back in town, yo.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-68773977795038102962010-02-17T13:59:00.003-10:002010-02-17T14:11:29.759-10:00Myself has got a secretAre you ready? Kay, here goes...I am a horrible mother. No, no, really. I made that really kewl blog for Kekoa's 1st birthday and have been so ridiculously busy that I never made one for Owen when he turned 8 or for Abra when she played the cello in the school talent show. And I have all kinds of really spectacular excuses, but I will refrain from using them because, really, what's the point.<br />No, forget that. I am using them.<br />Jeff being gone means: a)I have all the kids, b)I have ALL the kids, c)I have school, d)I have housework, and of course, e)I have ALL THE KIDS and you like have to feed them and clothe them and play with them or they get all snotty and annoying and you love them, but holy crap, I just need five frickin' minutes in the bathroom in the dark so none of you can see me while I scribble my last will and testament on a piece of toilet paper before I die because I must have Alzheimer's or something because I don't remember how all of you got to be mine and I have to be like responsible for you and stuff.<br />*Sigh*<br />But we still manage to do fun stuff like go to the playground and watch James be totally freaked out by the slide and Ruthie never ever leave the swing and eat ice cream at ridiculous temperatures and times of day and Owen and I are getting very good at Smash Brothers on the Wii. Wii have totally kicked its butt. And Abra is always kicking my butt at the Naruto Wii, but I can still clap the loudest at her school functions and exclaim profusely over how awesome she is getting at cello.<br />This mothering gig is hard, but I think I might keep it.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-19204393907214737412010-01-14T09:26:00.003-10:002010-01-14T10:10:46.695-10:00New Year Syndrome<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3zMIUqsdVnzy-2cny-HgAswRSX8cIbcjOAreigfvKCW-Rlc_0E5ycYL5lxMZW3s6eAV5Z-EH7t8bcRw2RfwDz01mQSN5-dA2M4xCambzv_JQPbfdOzu4PYwfnnM-zmp49wFDVHB8TSFWG/s1600-h/107.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 247px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426690401684661618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3zMIUqsdVnzy-2cny-HgAswRSX8cIbcjOAreigfvKCW-Rlc_0E5ycYL5lxMZW3s6eAV5Z-EH7t8bcRw2RfwDz01mQSN5-dA2M4xCambzv_JQPbfdOzu4PYwfnnM-zmp49wFDVHB8TSFWG/s320/107.JPG" /></a><br /><div>After making sure that the kids had a spectacular Christmas, Jeff's unemployment went kaput (hey, Hawaii friends, isn't it interesting how kaput is similar to kapu? weird). And so our New Year begins with Jeff working with his folks all the way out in Utah while we are here patiently waiting for college to start and for him to return for every third week. Maybe.<br />Okay, I admit it. I had suffered from New Year Syndrome-that dangerous disease that incorporates hope for all things new-I had hoped that the year 2010, an impossible number to me which makes me think fondly of the Giant Hershey Bar from space, would be...well, better. That things would start to move up, that I would finally smack the curveball that is striking us out, that I would at least pass the Go space on the frickin' board and collect my$200. Man, $200. I am almost drooling on that one.<br />Instead I am sans husband, plus four kids, one college schedule, and up one babysitter. Yes, yes, away my Kekoa goes to Daycare. And I am not so secretly heartbroken. True, I could stop going to school, but what the hell would be the point in a semester's worth of credits? I at least need the paper that says AS for absolutely sh** on it. But, damnit, he's the last one and he's already not a baby anymore and I know it's only half a day, but that's half a day that we don't get to explore and walk to the library and pick up leaves or make snowmen or go to the park or eat lunch at Pangaea or play with the Thomas trains in the toystore or blow raspberries or...wow, I am severely rambling on. Maybe.<br />In truth, I am happy to be at school, but sad to be away from my husband and kids. Happy to be doing something I procrastinated on a bit, but wish I had finished already. Happy to be learning something new from Cultural Anthropology, but wondering why I have to take English and Computer Lit, hoping I manage to not be lost in Algebra or bored to tears in Philosophy and secretly glad that Jeff being gone meant I dropped that Government & Politics online course-not that I didn't want to take it, just that I thought it was a bit much already on top of everything else.<br />Believe it or not, I am actually trying to be optimistic here. Here's hoping that the Jefferson's are our new neighbors for 2010.<br />Cue the Giant Hershey Bar from space.</div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-53598200394732827012009-12-07T13:06:00.003-10:002009-12-07T13:16:29.149-10:00Jay-Jay is OneLast year I had this...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzS3JDIlrdVn3u7Mtur01yDe3fRyDhxS-f3NPJp-5yXUNBwBhBURGmUMWi4pFjYmtIthyphenhyphenPDzcvJ0jPUEhvhuzAgszZVrEUgOT-McN9Ks26W71gnudKqybnt6vO_XLdUTKrF37wrclZ4hU/s1600-h/009.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412635613089493762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzS3JDIlrdVn3u7Mtur01yDe3fRyDhxS-f3NPJp-5yXUNBwBhBURGmUMWi4pFjYmtIthyphenhyphenPDzcvJ0jPUEhvhuzAgszZVrEUgOT-McN9Ks26W71gnudKqybnt6vO_XLdUTKrF37wrclZ4hU/s320/009.JPG" /></a> This year I have this...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbKz2JxWhwyMqOY_JugtzrSKDLBXlUx6150_c4WuG4Wso-oOmMeliDKQkz6HOz7dTqhXMwJCKAvUe9M_WdnoQWavTC8_lVs_D9u-5FY-nlje9D4K3meyzqINx1PI8P9EzBQbfEzUX8whP/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412635603130146754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbKz2JxWhwyMqOY_JugtzrSKDLBXlUx6150_c4WuG4Wso-oOmMeliDKQkz6HOz7dTqhXMwJCKAvUe9M_WdnoQWavTC8_lVs_D9u-5FY-nlje9D4K3meyzqINx1PI8P9EzBQbfEzUX8whP/s320/001.JPG" /></a> For his birthday, we did this...<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm35C58E322AEsCZTJ0Q27ir4QmAPPG3z9J0hPKGE1ZiLCBsfJqdZDj73Ct5mMDF_ohDS_ehhoSw8ZfRAo7KueBOGxURqoHrL0R5VsPXTCbC6gYfnadR5gw4K1tpIJpk1EGdCQMNt-SpSk/s1600-h/011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412635595114421522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm35C58E322AEsCZTJ0Q27ir4QmAPPG3z9J0hPKGE1ZiLCBsfJqdZDj73Ct5mMDF_ohDS_ehhoSw8ZfRAo7KueBOGxURqoHrL0R5VsPXTCbC6gYfnadR5gw4K1tpIJpk1EGdCQMNt-SpSk/s320/011.JPG" /></a><br />And cut down this, to put lights on it and make all sparkly, which he would promptly try and remove. Note that all expressions indicate, "Are we done standing here yet? It's really frickin' cold out here."<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOf17W51j-f4shh2TV4pIjLGNbrSd1L6QG4LCxHCogFII8KCypYsavZytm8BT3Mk6w1ZWCJYYy8b44T-2HvIZyUWJjJXu7J6RhRwffMa1Yvwxk2100CJlzdVczjS5bNZtbufYoqQWeg_Hr/s1600-h/007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412635581488983026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOf17W51j-f4shh2TV4pIjLGNbrSd1L6QG4LCxHCogFII8KCypYsavZytm8BT3Mk6w1ZWCJYYy8b44T-2HvIZyUWJjJXu7J6RhRwffMa1Yvwxk2100CJlzdVczjS5bNZtbufYoqQWeg_Hr/s320/007.JPG" /></a> Two days after his birthday, we got this...</div><div><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWltFlgLALJgpseGUN5NOCwPu6xb2fYsbc26XLTYk_ROB9kuC6MLFxkfZbKbDGNUosfACqTPq3e-drSaXR4QrKNkkG60UbW9fOmLDpUBw7JRPTBE7A0KSKkUCBVO3hXVU9-dRvX7YMS1mS/s1600-h/020.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412635572123717874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWltFlgLALJgpseGUN5NOCwPu6xb2fYsbc26XLTYk_ROB9kuC6MLFxkfZbKbDGNUosfACqTPq3e-drSaXR4QrKNkkG60UbW9fOmLDpUBw7JRPTBE7A0KSKkUCBVO3hXVU9-dRvX7YMS1mS/s320/020.JPG" /></a> Happy Birthday, son. I am overjoyed to be your mother and I look forward to more Christmases together.</div><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> </div><div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-40399789479794141472009-11-29T19:00:00.003-10:002009-11-29T21:23:04.045-10:00Working off their Turkey<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIknTh599-lRPB8ESriDL67qAJZo4r7bxqaAZpycxX6Mx1CC0P4wbENE8RAhRfT3SLpL4UPTF35Yb7m7txUjLiPAzQWxcZOiokY3z8334DKfM8KAkEvRIijuwejOmxzp1hW7MY5CV4Ubg2/s1600/155.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409764054651350722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIknTh599-lRPB8ESriDL67qAJZo4r7bxqaAZpycxX6Mx1CC0P4wbENE8RAhRfT3SLpL4UPTF35Yb7m7txUjLiPAzQWxcZOiokY3z8334DKfM8KAkEvRIijuwejOmxzp1hW7MY5CV4Ubg2/s320/155.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_uO91cGYIp2cfmlenwjFP04A12Rs-1yHYiQncsiWmTMgOBqqTBcdS4B3nksWonrDQY1L3aHnRxMgHRKgmxBrts2uCHr0EyMEK-J3O43j7q78yNS0ipWq5L7cFTC7wEm-GV9GxBQlopeG/s1600/148.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409764050802892514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_uO91cGYIp2cfmlenwjFP04A12Rs-1yHYiQncsiWmTMgOBqqTBcdS4B3nksWonrDQY1L3aHnRxMgHRKgmxBrts2uCHr0EyMEK-J3O43j7q78yNS0ipWq5L7cFTC7wEm-GV9GxBQlopeG/s320/148.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9itDRfTzGBi-6WPLVBAUelSKReW0IpVDKNy_KhPxEkOmdCA0z46ZutLODU9R1Xz9AQZSpuaokK9hOOYOelC30TlYYBU_w1G_hohriKwyV94UkLu2OrKDo7x6SnGUZR4k0hgJPvgwvmmq/s1600/169.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409764038866023458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9itDRfTzGBi-6WPLVBAUelSKReW0IpVDKNy_KhPxEkOmdCA0z46ZutLODU9R1Xz9AQZSpuaokK9hOOYOelC30TlYYBU_w1G_hohriKwyV94UkLu2OrKDo7x6SnGUZR4k0hgJPvgwvmmq/s320/169.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>We decided to visit my dad and Brenda for Thanksgiving this year, as we had not seen them for a bit. A good time was had by all.</div><div>Dad actually reported that he missed us after we left. He said it was too quiet. Which, really, for my dad to think things are quiet...well, it's a bit strange.</div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-27894330880819324852009-11-29T18:44:00.004-10:002009-11-29T19:00:13.053-10:00The Pumpkin Blog I was going to write<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GPSHIq9mXFriC3RcPanJIcBDIThQsCKRgJJgMwRXyWsMWgkbZqpoWHrYNpDdvCzza6_g8RS-JLdYcAtDgV7T1fXICquqcy9MBr7_q7VCFSUXQKgkCfeY9CsG6oubooJhgM4jlcMEGOfo/s1600/136.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409755408594027042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GPSHIq9mXFriC3RcPanJIcBDIThQsCKRgJJgMwRXyWsMWgkbZqpoWHrYNpDdvCzza6_g8RS-JLdYcAtDgV7T1fXICquqcy9MBr7_q7VCFSUXQKgkCfeY9CsG6oubooJhgM4jlcMEGOfo/s320/136.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8IYSQ83Mu1evDlO1MWRM2tlDXSdq2bKCPS0ScOlyV3HQ44CY0aK60tw0MRR_l6JW1zqTGUmtv0LFnxXLSTrTZYoKm3caR1MW4GvyeOszlmyJNXDoRXi_jiUxLmdXMY98XF9RXg5Y14Lf/s1600/133.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409755401212885698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8IYSQ83Mu1evDlO1MWRM2tlDXSdq2bKCPS0ScOlyV3HQ44CY0aK60tw0MRR_l6JW1zqTGUmtv0LFnxXLSTrTZYoKm3caR1MW4GvyeOszlmyJNXDoRXi_jiUxLmdXMY98XF9RXg5Y14Lf/s320/133.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dfeUWmOtz2CvP5dt8tZVYW4-DuhP1YKjzEYQbJwZZsuXpAwJQyKEOnzn0GRDwDStB5uTYDMDNowizbdUq7H82CdUDdrJVrjtPN0CdM_c-REGXydPH3uwmqa8RjXW3ygxqCodgUJdNzi2/s1600/120.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409755395071623714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dfeUWmOtz2CvP5dt8tZVYW4-DuhP1YKjzEYQbJwZZsuXpAwJQyKEOnzn0GRDwDStB5uTYDMDNowizbdUq7H82CdUDdrJVrjtPN0CdM_c-REGXydPH3uwmqa8RjXW3ygxqCodgUJdNzi2/s320/120.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5REuUB9nGi72y83v4k4XfkpRX39qTK5Q0vz3Qyfdk0gtpAoUEvjHpfEOBFP7D8wxuxrb9OOMx_Byy3tGCQoiewfj3-FlSbGlrYNrWRFcVzg3Pk81V_hfQNIm4WOXdqKs7MltV7orZgfT/s1600/119.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409755382369803330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5REuUB9nGi72y83v4k4XfkpRX39qTK5Q0vz3Qyfdk0gtpAoUEvjHpfEOBFP7D8wxuxrb9OOMx_Byy3tGCQoiewfj3-FlSbGlrYNrWRFcVzg3Pk81V_hfQNIm4WOXdqKs7MltV7orZgfT/s320/119.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuGGn0P-FG0DYL5XojgWY0MWvqWGERevYf_vwR_6r6dt5JerRPjXwdv-_oIN7duXMKJXEHUA_aiWcIRC0hbvTCKn_5fI_TNWhj5DQyLUSiEhwQvO0_6QCgmuw-kmrXnWl5Uz_ZdAPoEIy/s1600/126.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409755379209752434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuGGn0P-FG0DYL5XojgWY0MWvqWGERevYf_vwR_6r6dt5JerRPjXwdv-_oIN7duXMKJXEHUA_aiWcIRC0hbvTCKn_5fI_TNWhj5DQyLUSiEhwQvO0_6QCgmuw-kmrXnWl5Uz_ZdAPoEIy/s320/126.JPG" /></a><br /><div>I missed watching the leaves change color in Hawaii, having an actual autumn. We went down to visit my Aunt Mary and pick pumpkins out of an actual patch. The patch was a school fundraiser and we knew the kids would have fun. And it was fun, but it was ridculously overpriced. Worse than the pumpkins we could have bought at Safeway. Ah, well, there you are. Can't always have awesome pumpkins from Hawi. They had a bus that drove around the patch for bumpy, scary rides that were very bumpy, but not quite so scary. And there was a small petting zoo complete with pigs eating the rotten pumpkins. That was a little scary.</div><div>All in all, it was a fun time.</div></div></div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-22296651866511489322009-10-23T18:52:00.004-10:002009-10-23T19:22:13.043-10:00StillI had this whole blog planned about how we took the kids to the pumpkin patch, complete with pictures and I will still write that, but not today. Today, oh man, today is something different.<br />Carolann, Jeff's sister, my sister, passed away.<br />My house is quiet. My kids are asleep. My husband is in Utah. Everything is dark, so dark I cannot see the end of it. I know it's there, but my heart is too sore to find it.<br />It should be against the law. It's not fair. I am angry and sad and I don't understand. I feel like I am putting together a puzzle with only purple pieces. I should be asleep. I've been up since three this morning, but every time I close my eyes all I can see is her face. And the faces of my nieces. Oh, how my heart aches for them. I know they are in good hands; Christie is exceptional, Brian and Jenny are gems; I know the girls will never not know what a wonderful person she was. Yet, I see them graduating and marrying and having babies of their own without being able to hold her hand. So, we will hold them. Hold them close and tight and tell them stories of all the tears that she shed for them, all the small wonders she grasped so they could see, all the times the light and love shown from her face just to look at them.<br />I miss her. I opened my phone to call Christie and Carolann is listed above it. I open my computer to type and the screensaver is on a picture of her and Owen riding the Ducks in Seattle. In spite of all that we have seen and done together, I loved her more. So much more. There was so much strength in her, so much beauty, so much joy. I want to scream and break things. I want to look at people in the streets and ask them how dare they keep on living when she is not. But I cannot. These things will not bring her back. Nor would I, even if they did. I want to, but I cannot. She is starting over. Not was, but is. She was in love and beautiful. She had her girls. Putting things in their place. I can't see her, but I know she's there. Moving on to bigger things and better things, things that sparkle, things that shine, things that we aspire to.<br />So I will hold her close and tight and tell her that it's okay, that we're not okay, but will be. I will hold her close and say I love you. And see you later.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-61615436276681045222009-10-21T12:17:00.004-10:002009-10-21T13:34:08.331-10:00I know! I know!<div>I have been failing my New Year's Resolution to write the blog every week uber spectacularly. I have a good one planned, but it is mid-term time and I just never seem to get around to uploading the pictures that must go with it.<br />Seriously, it's a visual.<br />Anywoot, hang on tight gang. I promise this weekend. In the meantime, here's my yellow watermelon picture.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiacqy0hEh8iyG1cI2bNIDlnGwB72wrpJqXKwCRkmN_KzHbtG63p-rvKrdiBKTq4O_NQ2Rmw9jOEAtdlUob2raB1MkcGNYYy1N5X2e4qddcYhGdBaoSiF2WZMwMFvyn1M9PEB8OPYR3et/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395200443516690642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiacqy0hEh8iyG1cI2bNIDlnGwB72wrpJqXKwCRkmN_KzHbtG63p-rvKrdiBKTq4O_NQ2Rmw9jOEAtdlUob2raB1MkcGNYYy1N5X2e4qddcYhGdBaoSiF2WZMwMFvyn1M9PEB8OPYR3et/s320/008.JPG" /></a>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-24658065240783998682009-09-28T07:47:00.002-10:002009-09-28T07:54:24.371-10:00In a galaxy far far away...In case you didn't hear, Jeff's grandma passed away.<br />I know. I was sad too.<br />We left California last Wednesday in order to make to the service in Orem on Saturday. And then drove down to Blanding in southern Utah for the burial. It has been an extremely long and hard trip. <br />I am writing this in the car from Moab to Price. Which seems to be roughly like traveling over the barren wilderness that is northern Nevada. Only redder.<br />So I will wish Grandma safe passage and happy reunion with her husband, tell her we love her, and will see her in a bit.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-18771324352989796252009-09-10T09:16:00.003-10:002009-09-10T09:31:42.067-10:00Free Mutiny on the BountyWhile walking around town, I have seen a veritable plethora of nature's goodness. So much of it that no person could pick it all.<br /><br />But maybe two people could.<br /><br />I asked the principal at Abra's school if I could pick the chokecherries on school grounds. He said yes please take as many as you want. So we did.<br /><br />Our neighbor has a pear tree. They don't actually live at the house; they just rent it out. They told us to please pick as the pears would just fall on the ground and make a mess. So we did.<br /><br />We have spent almost a whole week canning just those two fruits. Wonder what else I could find? I think my neighbors have an apple tree as well.<br /><br />Also our garden is getting out of hand. The peas are downright everywhere.<br /><p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2EGV8l3GEuuH3xiZbZ4PGaXzrHeKjE_2nawNWEpWeTMLOslOpmEBm2D-zTSDegAaIBVTkwT1kykv9gS3h83N3qxv4_Zlo4sgi5pBgTKleco-PF9Cg3ql6balh50D5DUC_Ay_BwRumQPQ/s1600-h/008+-+Copy.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379921384943017282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2EGV8l3GEuuH3xiZbZ4PGaXzrHeKjE_2nawNWEpWeTMLOslOpmEBm2D-zTSDegAaIBVTkwT1kykv9gS3h83N3qxv4_Zlo4sgi5pBgTKleco-PF9Cg3ql6balh50D5DUC_Ay_BwRumQPQ/s320/008+-+Copy.JPG" /></a> From left to right: Chokecherry Berry Dipping Sauce (Ohana Dip), Peach BBQ Sauce, Pear Pickles (Oh, man are these good), Cinnamon Red Hot Pears (very festive), Spirited Pears (Go Pears!), Ginger Pear Marmalade (awesome on french bread), and Chokecherry Jam.</p><p>We have been uber busy.</p>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-48108862290090406452009-08-18T09:02:00.002-10:002009-08-18T09:28:56.563-10:00My first day of school...in 13 yearsTwo weeks ago I went to the Veteran's Office and was told that I could still use the Montgomery GI Bill. And that it would pay roughly $1300 a month for 36 months of my school. And that if I was going to school, I could use the work study program and work at the VA office for minimum wage. Part of the requirement of doing the work study program was that by law they would have to let me study on the job.<br />Needless to say, this seemed pretty win-win to me.<br />So, I called the Admissions office of Feather River Community College here in town. And got voicemail. And got voicemail. And got voicemail.<br />Not being 19 or transferring from somewhere else, I have no idea how this registering for College (capital C) stuff works. I have no idea which classes I am supposed to be taking for whatever it is I want to be when I grow up.<br />This left me registering for Sociology, History, Anthropology, Theatre, Film Appreciation, and Asian Martial Arts Weapons classes on the very last day before school started. For the life of me, I could not would not Sam I am, get any math or english classes. I do not like green eggs and ham. I could also not find out how the hell to properly apply for the GI Bill. Whatever, it will all work out.<br />Yesterday, I attend Sociology at the wonderful hour of 8 in the morning. I leave what is supposed to be an hour long class at 8:05. I like Sociology. I like any class where the teacher gets up and says, "This is an easy class. We don't even use textbooks." Score one for the pocketbook.<br />Following Sociology, is History 108 at 9. This was a little more advanced. I had a brief moment of panic when he said that you should be taking English 10 (also known as Dumbed down English). Wait, I cry, I have no english classes. ARGH! And then I thought, but wait, I work at the stinking newspaper for crying out loud. I know how those grammer thingies like work and junk. I no need dumb engrish. I gots the Internets!<br />Then at 5 in the evening I go to drama. I am 30. Everyone else is oh, so young. At the last minute, two older gentlemen enter, making me feel much more comfortable about signing up for Theatre. But, it still was rather hard to hear that almost everyone else's favorite movies are: Boyz in da Hood (they are from Alabama), Dumb and Dumber, Wayne's World, and Zoolander. It was very weird saying Harold and Maude is my favorite movie. No one except the teacher knew what it was. And how do you fight with people saying that guy from Twilight is their favorite actor when yours is Paul Newman? Come on, kiddos, no one can eat 50 eggs!<br />Today, I have film appreciation at 6 p.m. I think I might have to drop this class. I cannot physically watch Full Metal Jacket one more time. Seriously, this is required Marine Corps film appreciation. It and Apocalypse Now. Oh, and that completely horrid Tom Beringer movie, Sniper. Jeff makes me watch that from time to time. Besides, I need a damn math class. Economics, even, something, anything, just give me some numbers.<br />So my schedule is as follows: Mondays and Wednesdays, I have Sociology, History, and Theatre. Tuesdays for now, I have Film Appreciation. Thursdays, I take my Weapons class in the evening. And I do Anthropology online.<br />I think my plate is a little full, but darn it, I am excited.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-81653731368085319722009-08-11T09:40:00.004-10:002009-08-11T09:58:27.281-10:00Blackberries and Peaches<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVq7eG2p4qJNXhjHPkxou3R1wNO90MVCAjzuQ_20na6uTNhbwGbSy5ozJEabBfrvGj5aoc7SZGhOBfhHEZLJKxS1zlSPlwjy0iCTHiueV0tXAxIIfCPVBUwuVTzPHfzK4DygIHohhF-PvY/s1600-h/031.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368796884969397474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVq7eG2p4qJNXhjHPkxou3R1wNO90MVCAjzuQ_20na6uTNhbwGbSy5ozJEabBfrvGj5aoc7SZGhOBfhHEZLJKxS1zlSPlwjy0iCTHiueV0tXAxIIfCPVBUwuVTzPHfzK4DygIHohhF-PvY/s320/031.JPG" /></a> This is what my freezer looks like. Those are my forty plus peaches that came in a box for $12.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MOyuU7s7YY1lIm-RidOSWssHgf463qRXI7Y4jR-0T_H0m3xv0FDhNsWqWK6lbPH2OXYE9LHq9heOuxFLkE5B3WAiwIgc1k-wgU5MOBZpS_bjg1M0IQ0PVvFjvdz9DS9eL1j3qHAwLyew/s1600-h/032.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368796875713163554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MOyuU7s7YY1lIm-RidOSWssHgf463qRXI7Y4jR-0T_H0m3xv0FDhNsWqWK6lbPH2OXYE9LHq9heOuxFLkE5B3WAiwIgc1k-wgU5MOBZpS_bjg1M0IQ0PVvFjvdz9DS9eL1j3qHAwLyew/s320/032.JPG" /></a> This is my mom's blackberry jam.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNo5wRe7oVk0w8n4K1Y2iBrZG-yp9Mn6Efbe5FAPpjtZrmIpXIpQGqXfjRqcKgfdr796g3Mp7i9qSHzEN9vfDA-hMO8MAaFrOtnGU820lcZCRrG2zKF3vQ67ZlGweUX13pc9zxT8LgVfmL/s1600-h/028.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368796869227273266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNo5wRe7oVk0w8n4K1Y2iBrZG-yp9Mn6Efbe5FAPpjtZrmIpXIpQGqXfjRqcKgfdr796g3Mp7i9qSHzEN9vfDA-hMO8MAaFrOtnGU820lcZCRrG2zKF3vQ67ZlGweUX13pc9zxT8LgVfmL/s320/028.JPG" /></a> This is a partially full blackberry bucket. It ended up being 3/4 full. It's a five gallon bucket.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEc4VMpajKzhUZm-MghEGIfqbQfeIrY5RX7XJ2uf_HicSn8IiV31sINBSxC-9XtGdThPDvktpNaIboQfl0RtGDN0d_rUSsSBIhR0Qnzqg2N_dbXVP7nWNmVmYGFfouahj-BmC7Xs_ctbfG/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368796858888339634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEc4VMpajKzhUZm-MghEGIfqbQfeIrY5RX7XJ2uf_HicSn8IiV31sINBSxC-9XtGdThPDvktpNaIboQfl0RtGDN0d_rUSsSBIhR0Qnzqg2N_dbXVP7nWNmVmYGFfouahj-BmC7Xs_ctbfG/s320/015.JPG" /></a> This is me and James pimping our blackberries.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AJVSQ7VHd64pBhOivZF2CxFcF07Dvtjz3JC9Dydz444KMJH9gs-XA_bJ5QwGU57EjWNW-6hSB7jlVzps4jOUY77dQJXQagVKCKsnBD2jkrEYsM_7qwc4g7-aN8WPCAjbqkkIv0ROJrMs/s1600-h/027.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368796852767532034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AJVSQ7VHd64pBhOivZF2CxFcF07Dvtjz3JC9Dydz444KMJH9gs-XA_bJ5QwGU57EjWNW-6hSB7jlVzps4jOUY77dQJXQagVKCKsnBD2jkrEYsM_7qwc4g7-aN8WPCAjbqkkIv0ROJrMs/s320/027.JPG" /></a><br />I really love summer fruits.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-80892400123108259102009-07-29T16:06:00.002-10:002009-07-29T16:39:03.744-10:00Two MonthsToday I braved the bureaucratic red tape and carted an enormous mound of paper to the Welfare Services office to apply for CalWorks, Medi-cal, and that dogrel food stamps.<br />I really hate being poor.<br />Because surprise, surprise, we do not qualify for cash aid or food stamps, but if the heavens align on the seventh Monday of the quarter slice moon, we might get Medi-cal. Provided we are standing in the proper toadstool arrangement.<br />No, we are not homeless. No, we are not quite destitute. But we are getting a bit desperate.<br />And funnily enough, I have been in this situation already.<br />I really hated it then too.<br />When it was just Abra and I and the gloriousness of the Marine Corps and their non-direct deposit, I found myself with my hat in my hand. And was denied then too, despite being paid below the federal poverty level to kill myself in some foreign country. Despite losing thirty pounds to non-eating so that she could. Despite praying that the five dollars I could afford for gas every two weeks would carry me to work so that I didn't get court-martialed. Rejection is a bitch.<br />So here I am in the exact position that I was before I got married or had three more children or moved to Wyoming or Hawaii or back again. That position that is middle class poor. I am officially too rich to have help and too poor to do it on my own. Especially when the job service here in town busts out the phone book to help Jeff find a job. Because, you know, we are retarded and never thought of that. Because we have never worked a computer, either.<br />Albert Einstein said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." But I didn't do this. All I wanted was more time with my dying father. Not sure why that seems to be such a curse.<br />True, Jeff has never, in all the eight years that we have been married, spent this much time with our kids. I cannot exchange that nor would I. Most times I was worried that he would kill himself working. Like standing out in the 20 below snow in Wyoming with pnuemonia for a week. Or working seven days a week for two months. Or staying to work in Hawaii for a month while the kids and I were here. Why should anyone HAVE to do those things?<br />But apparently, we have to. Apparently, our work is not hard enough. Apparently, I learned nothing from my first go round with poverty so let's do it all over again. Can't wait to find out whether government cheese still makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches despite not being anything remotely resembling cheese. All I need is an iron and a paper bag. Then I really will be back again.<br />Alright, Tyler Durden, I am not my khakis. All I have is a refridgerator full of condiments because I could not afford the food or the ying-yang coffee table. Tell me, Tyler, what is the first rule of Fight Club? Maybe I should start my home business selling rich white women their own fat asses back.<br />If you've just tuned in, friends and neighbors, you met me at a vary interesting time in my life.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-65156805563873921942009-07-26T14:07:00.003-10:002009-07-26T14:27:12.733-10:00Yard work? Or Gardening?<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiltrLTbOYd4Nu02dh0qzS5uwAsqT6fk9-wzVNVVW9dRhs4CgTq9KkUXVZ0OXZgEJtS5y2aCkioIK382rPH5XO6nsKWAcIHy25ksoQ0WHAjGrS0uU7M0vEN-b48jlfy35aQ0oqvI1W4B9tc/s1600-h/060.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362927891131774866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiltrLTbOYd4Nu02dh0qzS5uwAsqT6fk9-wzVNVVW9dRhs4CgTq9KkUXVZ0OXZgEJtS5y2aCkioIK382rPH5XO6nsKWAcIHy25ksoQ0WHAjGrS0uU7M0vEN-b48jlfy35aQ0oqvI1W4B9tc/s320/060.JPG" /></a> There is a green thumb somewhere under that dirt.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEum30fW3L1K6P-8V79QaGV26XCU1bP4GvgyPF700VG_OOrPk3edM1DjyYKS-Uloxe4PpjKKRZzTPCIjJT58YsqEWCQC9gBVUoqO0A-YER9LTFT8Zz-LWWHFMYGxroS2yLS8zLaKHqfK_/s1600-h/062.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362927887690480946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEum30fW3L1K6P-8V79QaGV26XCU1bP4GvgyPF700VG_OOrPk3edM1DjyYKS-Uloxe4PpjKKRZzTPCIjJT58YsqEWCQC9gBVUoqO0A-YER9LTFT8Zz-LWWHFMYGxroS2yLS8zLaKHqfK_/s320/062.JPG" /></a> Jeff's planter box made from free pallets. We like free.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwM1hPX-uta0uCL7HBWK-05806m0MkZe3W_q4VvWtQ33OxgyN9aHgELSZPwqwYImkewEK5q182lUSvYiy_tD2DsW026GEkNeE8VSoH6eqe_jou75jiemuyUSdWT6dy2GM8HHTVd7xuLRDf/s1600-h/063.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362927872504956098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwM1hPX-uta0uCL7HBWK-05806m0MkZe3W_q4VvWtQ33OxgyN9aHgELSZPwqwYImkewEK5q182lUSvYiy_tD2DsW026GEkNeE8VSoH6eqe_jou75jiemuyUSdWT6dy2GM8HHTVd7xuLRDf/s320/063.JPG" /></a> Compost pile that I am awesomely proud of. So awesome, in fact, that my shadow is in it.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNl6_U8rmfwq2AYRnuDThIgHEtJ1YHisrO8yrKb28mkwr4Ivjgh4ttrX3pNCqGax06X8bEJVrmtfcz32sTkB5nsVms05v4IrCy0Zcb3ghHWpeL0DcG4xvYTZn-ahY1fO8wKUVndRQ-e-Hh/s1600-h/066.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362927868594747618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNl6_U8rmfwq2AYRnuDThIgHEtJ1YHisrO8yrKb28mkwr4Ivjgh4ttrX3pNCqGax06X8bEJVrmtfcz32sTkB5nsVms05v4IrCy0Zcb3ghHWpeL0DcG4xvYTZn-ahY1fO8wKUVndRQ-e-Hh/s320/066.JPG" /></a> Peas and Carrots.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1gDEouLncLckeYqFZ3PWPvcGbsqq_eoNMjsm7Q6vuJ5XHth_a9zLyivwhTvnLjzqzI-LgVQV10-XuYxX8qUIz8pToU3uIXBvb-gKhN0ppI3NWFqSFPVUix3XlOTHTyF4OfZBCG1Xh8yG/s1600-h/064.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362927865237605794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1gDEouLncLckeYqFZ3PWPvcGbsqq_eoNMjsm7Q6vuJ5XHth_a9zLyivwhTvnLjzqzI-LgVQV10-XuYxX8qUIz8pToU3uIXBvb-gKhN0ppI3NWFqSFPVUix3XlOTHTyF4OfZBCG1Xh8yG/s320/064.JPG" /></a> Herbage, but not the cilantro that bolted as it is extremely hot here.</div><div> </div><div align="left">There are also bush beans and beets and a vertiable plethora of flowers, a small bunch of lettuce that is lacking in photogenic qualities, but will probably taste delicious, one small rose bush, and the lawn that was particularly sparse until we added some grass seed. Say, this gardening thing is pretty kewl. I think I'll keep it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div></div></div><br /></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-17020814091211879242009-07-26T13:57:00.001-10:002009-07-26T14:07:41.221-10:00On days like these...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68ZxwzpQ2Gi3e5pgEYXh7Gy9FGcRaBZ5LnYYYf3zSz0_Ye-0pTcReLZWK2FbUN8R-GZOP0rp2dK0GttSOghXJMivGFGXj2_4TssgpoGMqy-wZU3RvDu0UOMbuF1nRDJ5z8QGF8roSyqkD/s1600-h/026.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362924733882814738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68ZxwzpQ2Gi3e5pgEYXh7Gy9FGcRaBZ5LnYYYf3zSz0_Ye-0pTcReLZWK2FbUN8R-GZOP0rp2dK0GttSOghXJMivGFGXj2_4TssgpoGMqy-wZU3RvDu0UOMbuF1nRDJ5z8QGF8roSyqkD/s320/026.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOz5hxvuOUP2R_QB2mlzh0guzsW0oqdWQp88VMAjeYpQ7LpNcxOecY73i4ZOWfp-7jKdWU64NuoprMxSPp_h6jJBkqtqi7BfOdgiqaVuMIbP_c_6ATxd4MutLsqLHg8wsMR6jDSOgDXx7/s1600-h/057.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362924730986788418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOz5hxvuOUP2R_QB2mlzh0guzsW0oqdWQp88VMAjeYpQ7LpNcxOecY73i4ZOWfp-7jKdWU64NuoprMxSPp_h6jJBkqtqi7BfOdgiqaVuMIbP_c_6ATxd4MutLsqLHg8wsMR6jDSOgDXx7/s320/057.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO20IKCPKuefzbsqQnIoOb2mo0sRA3NXQrSgLoY6KNIs0hL5NyvT68x-aQ3yOvyUaavZxEofY4SqWLIK7ci1_1W5Xi9dnWiwKm5tjaUhChz7_qtE0BhkI0dJyoiE2s7zAGPIzLbrjs-qop/s1600-h/049.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362924726563746626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO20IKCPKuefzbsqQnIoOb2mo0sRA3NXQrSgLoY6KNIs0hL5NyvT68x-aQ3yOvyUaavZxEofY4SqWLIK7ci1_1W5Xi9dnWiwKm5tjaUhChz7_qtE0BhkI0dJyoiE2s7zAGPIzLbrjs-qop/s320/049.JPG" /></a><br />Everything's Eventual.<br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-9266662947519075152009-07-26T13:49:00.003-10:002009-07-26T13:57:17.432-10:00Day Two<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWBUzixKFRKS_t29QQdxGeNAvKcLURGsYc48utOI9VP35eGZHh6WEj7ldiU51z_QbXE5pJfhB0djIPwlcGY4lQNGTv5Lc1P9sqBy39cMH8SORFWke41oDKUuISC0yjU8zLsGe9ZLwTyJq/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362921407737153362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWBUzixKFRKS_t29QQdxGeNAvKcLURGsYc48utOI9VP35eGZHh6WEj7ldiU51z_QbXE5pJfhB0djIPwlcGY4lQNGTv5Lc1P9sqBy39cMH8SORFWke41oDKUuISC0yjU8zLsGe9ZLwTyJq/s320/006.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaj3DojFAQnelICY453WpeXwy0NtHBovSATPKuBeQHVAaIYQlwJ2a2iykTUyFyeokkvT81cJGs2cLJ92frY_mhI63WaDRXTCSd2yBqymc-641oMgl8Z5f2xhrub_Jgn6VOrMrL14uN5IDL/s1600-h/018+-+Copy.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362921406487841026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaj3DojFAQnelICY453WpeXwy0NtHBovSATPKuBeQHVAaIYQlwJ2a2iykTUyFyeokkvT81cJGs2cLJ92frY_mhI63WaDRXTCSd2yBqymc-641oMgl8Z5f2xhrub_Jgn6VOrMrL14uN5IDL/s320/018+-+Copy.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqP4fx6lNQXKomEexdKOqB3TlfcuUy6fUwNoSv_smYHYJvTn6Ix7nc9invuMMFYB3_g0OGRPGllGcCAgkjD-GjlzcmemOepLjQp4YWOmQa82wQqpcR4BZSCsNx_T0IjAL3Ulto2coI-f2N/s1600-h/011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362921400119220338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqP4fx6lNQXKomEexdKOqB3TlfcuUy6fUwNoSv_smYHYJvTn6Ix7nc9invuMMFYB3_g0OGRPGllGcCAgkjD-GjlzcmemOepLjQp4YWOmQa82wQqpcR4BZSCsNx_T0IjAL3Ulto2coI-f2N/s320/011.JPG" /></a> Abra is way in the back, but you can't see Jeff next to her.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnErGFTykV3nNpudDshExc9pIKgo1tLxHJBdcL4QNtyhkOTL1D2FE5AzuvgiVFN-_GZzmTU4oEI5IJjA92oi7vowogR6Q6qLFBHsVNRPTS-J2gu6-KDFWTJMBo9Q7f3pS8Mc1MlftM2sp9/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362921390235383394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnErGFTykV3nNpudDshExc9pIKgo1tLxHJBdcL4QNtyhkOTL1D2FE5AzuvgiVFN-_GZzmTU4oEI5IJjA92oi7vowogR6Q6qLFBHsVNRPTS-J2gu6-KDFWTJMBo9Q7f3pS8Mc1MlftM2sp9/s320/008.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrjQ0S21zKfso4dyCVsgUWjRFW23QWHZT4ypnHMUzvbUnwyACx0OKgsY4Nbdhe2Ofdrm1GQF_YIcjVIF51VWqhHjAgzdIITiGF4H5LOAeSA4QQJC7HKGef9N7yim9KDPCKn7qgBm4ZzEl/s1600-h/003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362921389302537746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrjQ0S21zKfso4dyCVsgUWjRFW23QWHZT4ypnHMUzvbUnwyACx0OKgsY4Nbdhe2Ofdrm1GQF_YIcjVIF51VWqhHjAgzdIITiGF4H5LOAeSA4QQJC7HKGef9N7yim9KDPCKn7qgBm4ZzEl/s320/003.JPG" /></a> And Owen is in my lap.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-35551885119510164142009-07-08T07:23:00.002-10:002009-07-08T07:50:39.579-10:00Discovery Kingdom aka Marine World<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUT7Y9-ideLadAqQRdIkPSue6y3bZLMFnB0ywgiD6cCvzUDdWO26rvcMybE_3Ki7VVWCh1mC_ns_3sSVZbABfq0d347EFJu2HmNGwIucNLcDfyP6a_bJNp84ro9WGpVDf08IPM8In6ihP/s1600-h/030.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356147814973210386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUT7Y9-ideLadAqQRdIkPSue6y3bZLMFnB0ywgiD6cCvzUDdWO26rvcMybE_3Ki7VVWCh1mC_ns_3sSVZbABfq0d347EFJu2HmNGwIucNLcDfyP6a_bJNp84ro9WGpVDf08IPM8In6ihP/s320/030.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rzL7yIVoKG3ImouTx3U0irsLATuQ2k7L6EVxLFFN7xeQ_DhjSWV15kMzqLyStSN2k7tyYQEX8DTJjReAWwgIvzf1TfedMT6Jd5Jia1EgjHayAR8vHAXlFn6GEw-fG7JbB6m6ug_C9oN6/s1600-h/024.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356147807573610530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rzL7yIVoKG3ImouTx3U0irsLATuQ2k7L6EVxLFFN7xeQ_DhjSWV15kMzqLyStSN2k7tyYQEX8DTJjReAWwgIvzf1TfedMT6Jd5Jia1EgjHayAR8vHAXlFn6GEw-fG7JbB6m6ug_C9oN6/s320/024.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3kEBpZJNMjrekWkLCUFZcRRdkwCqTJar-vYZljLV9fnJDybrgD-KiBcDYZ0KQxBWR3_ejYdRNU7hwjvzpTsUMcqFB8C3SwN7V7Sdk-mRhgTCBsWzwDnRNTWX9OlaT1yjkW0ChypLK2js/s1600-h/022.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356147797892656530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3kEBpZJNMjrekWkLCUFZcRRdkwCqTJar-vYZljLV9fnJDybrgD-KiBcDYZ0KQxBWR3_ejYdRNU7hwjvzpTsUMcqFB8C3SwN7V7Sdk-mRhgTCBsWzwDnRNTWX9OlaT1yjkW0ChypLK2js/s320/022.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxZ7RHH9W36yZNF3X8esQxb1qZ83kHStM20oazH4yvQt5lTui1kgVAkWYLE9LA1CiEP-Zfk7HMdZb4s9nfpdDZqHM1c5sAG7E05Duukw_RQHqmTrk4IauVtj6mi5yZrGzp9fR7DJiVBOC/s1600-h/021.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356147789095932018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxZ7RHH9W36yZNF3X8esQxb1qZ83kHStM20oazH4yvQt5lTui1kgVAkWYLE9LA1CiEP-Zfk7HMdZb4s9nfpdDZqHM1c5sAG7E05Duukw_RQHqmTrk4IauVtj6mi5yZrGzp9fR7DJiVBOC/s320/021.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>We decided that despite having no jobs and less money, we would try for quality of life instead and took the kids to Marine World. At least that was what it was called when I was a kid, but then the Six Flags conglomerate bought it out and renamed it Discovery Kingdom. Yet in the way that Kamuela was always called Waimea despite the US Postal Service nomenclature, nobody knows what you are talking about if you say Discovery Kingdom.</div><div><div><div><div>The kids had a blast. We had a blast. Just plain ridiculous amounts of fun.</div><div>And we will go home poorer, but much richer.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-39082166429346976752009-06-30T18:32:00.002-10:002009-06-30T18:50:17.714-10:00Welcome to the world of no job land...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg350mbmbVIMY6Y_Jc7wjXKssOSg77xDvBkwG5o3Uaw5QPVS3qr9z3gyrdYbVMWv9f5RWi1lhNEPydtJuWOBCD2U-RWtkSFxmzalzIIIRPDrSAZLkz6KOL0iKNE6YLU07RM1cB6MCymaCwA/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353349363188065954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg350mbmbVIMY6Y_Jc7wjXKssOSg77xDvBkwG5o3Uaw5QPVS3qr9z3gyrdYbVMWv9f5RWi1lhNEPydtJuWOBCD2U-RWtkSFxmzalzIIIRPDrSAZLkz6KOL0iKNE6YLU07RM1cB6MCymaCwA/s320/015.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDBFnCK7pxq65JJDVI8E1J_ue1tAXWc3bleCl2rVxwOR7ds257owLg8ZiZwoq89HwbjxU3mN7bhRXWmTw-FXtofyBEouyNqN5oAljir2SGS4mgegh1ukiLkzaRB1Rb01YroqTix3fQwJZZ/s1600-h/003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353349353118433186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDBFnCK7pxq65JJDVI8E1J_ue1tAXWc3bleCl2rVxwOR7ds257owLg8ZiZwoq89HwbjxU3mN7bhRXWmTw-FXtofyBEouyNqN5oAljir2SGS4mgegh1ukiLkzaRB1Rb01YroqTix3fQwJZZ/s320/003.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbT1WeLuwksn4E0G-Was-D5tKkCwkkP6xMSYDkE2OQMPGSKm5nho2TMvHfA-SQr9GHxpUWYS4Dk3Kudo88p5KLX8SRtv9aVd1_XqknuCVZgD-NzmN4bLdlPVHp7n0qUg_fajGIoUflkyjZ/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353349344148553874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbT1WeLuwksn4E0G-Was-D5tKkCwkkP6xMSYDkE2OQMPGSKm5nho2TMvHfA-SQr9GHxpUWYS4Dk3Kudo88p5KLX8SRtv9aVd1_XqknuCVZgD-NzmN4bLdlPVHp7n0qUg_fajGIoUflkyjZ/s320/006.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8MBOhiPjuN9Dz490ETWp84lU0x9srhXbC2r9cRiJRVwMYUJGt9DSl6PtJ0mpzvcEEflMvAVdDjEm0XwJmIqRQ67rFodRcefXCHNvMOjINwLYq3EIHya9Zq-5p3vFPZAK0NCke9ADM9pt/s1600-h/007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353349338525302786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8MBOhiPjuN9Dz490ETWp84lU0x9srhXbC2r9cRiJRVwMYUJGt9DSl6PtJ0mpzvcEEflMvAVdDjEm0XwJmIqRQ67rFodRcefXCHNvMOjINwLYq3EIHya9Zq-5p3vFPZAK0NCke9ADM9pt/s320/007.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTv1jrGB_qhIoSjhZNUqvafxziJUmXirC5HPmKih-rznNDwf_mGLcyc3HPwkhT2FEQ_5FwhCZh07CtuuMtSIdZNxO60h8nsPl16ZK76bG3YCv2S8AAL0mPyw9Dh1D5kgPRh4Jb7Iwt1rWu/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353349333147172962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTv1jrGB_qhIoSjhZNUqvafxziJUmXirC5HPmKih-rznNDwf_mGLcyc3HPwkhT2FEQ_5FwhCZh07CtuuMtSIdZNxO60h8nsPl16ZK76bG3YCv2S8AAL0mPyw9Dh1D5kgPRh4Jb7Iwt1rWu/s320/008.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>It lets you do things like this on Tuesdays! And really you have to do them because you are A) bored out of your mind and B) totally frickin' poor. Good Luck!</div></div></div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-8927580037769986092009-06-16T19:50:00.003-10:002009-06-16T20:08:36.292-10:00Enough talk...let's see some pictures.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo8Hdcoxej-YxeeIJqFRfsNjdtkggFwNCF5PHQ92VlKDR_OUvoJKrcabGzoA07gnaewi-OsOcYC-pRiVXS1xbuqGpgtZ3DysV-Lx1AjxyoELillJFLorU7B0ocWdCOUrm4fDRUAwBcXJP0/s1600-h/196.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348174304996673186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo8Hdcoxej-YxeeIJqFRfsNjdtkggFwNCF5PHQ92VlKDR_OUvoJKrcabGzoA07gnaewi-OsOcYC-pRiVXS1xbuqGpgtZ3DysV-Lx1AjxyoELillJFLorU7B0ocWdCOUrm4fDRUAwBcXJP0/s320/196.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7BbcOLGS8v2ih-_7fTepm2Ay4FL0D_UnXi6QELAF-bun3QZ9WGei1HLfmIe49st8J04IA_0vdz_kBU3Q7xYA5aBhu1F_54CcGXGQKsk-xfBIMDUWytOVi7YVJujttoX3fqITgPmS_Kje/s1600-h/197.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348174299535313234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7BbcOLGS8v2ih-_7fTepm2Ay4FL0D_UnXi6QELAF-bun3QZ9WGei1HLfmIe49st8J04IA_0vdz_kBU3Q7xYA5aBhu1F_54CcGXGQKsk-xfBIMDUWytOVi7YVJujttoX3fqITgPmS_Kje/s320/197.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93umGQt1e_WAzpTguoy-29XMYgADeoBFys1LrokvVfdg6eMEep1lSkegI8jXr-jCbmR7NaYMgH5lgXt-vL6QkY0rMs0j9-poGRPkW6UWWwxzTZ1WJaeybRZG3fIB_ikv1fikA_WQuUvtu/s1600-h/192.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348172415411147746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93umGQt1e_WAzpTguoy-29XMYgADeoBFys1LrokvVfdg6eMEep1lSkegI8jXr-jCbmR7NaYMgH5lgXt-vL6QkY0rMs0j9-poGRPkW6UWWwxzTZ1WJaeybRZG3fIB_ikv1fikA_WQuUvtu/s320/192.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVgnuZDY4rYzX82hyphenhyphenXVo1lKZtcLYuU1DFx3pZuINUnFV9CEsvIVUIDlGxB1obTDfw_t4gWvrDvyFrotNW3NLPDdbzx2_GqJpBjW2ybnrgNf3Zycxw_oCUVk6hzVPjBQnfGGRUuj9_5Yo_/s1600-h/146.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348172404412710786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVgnuZDY4rYzX82hyphenhyphenXVo1lKZtcLYuU1DFx3pZuINUnFV9CEsvIVUIDlGxB1obTDfw_t4gWvrDvyFrotNW3NLPDdbzx2_GqJpBjW2ybnrgNf3Zycxw_oCUVk6hzVPjBQnfGGRUuj9_5Yo_/s320/146.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrbMVD5C_SwuBBifi70oFLum5Na7yEoZ9H4tRITppTRhaQ1-2SaumisyRqju09glFobU-kPvbHpyMYhT-uIyVLKaKNhtIoi-veuxdklcJ1_uOWNcLq2IkAID2fJ-yqIKxxmQVjsSP5_8z/s1600-h/163.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348172400241296882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrbMVD5C_SwuBBifi70oFLum5Na7yEoZ9H4tRITppTRhaQ1-2SaumisyRqju09glFobU-kPvbHpyMYhT-uIyVLKaKNhtIoi-veuxdklcJ1_uOWNcLq2IkAID2fJ-yqIKxxmQVjsSP5_8z/s320/163.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJ89NQZjL_ViKC8HgVQ4HzeMOFrT6Fb-BwoIg1hoSkW2ypT93pCu_wHxtLcKmTm_aAWS339GNvE1CaKuwrpAxENtU-NcRaxFBDM4JEJ933GwDgw9S2miU0CjnDKCxnq9rrSTn9PpYSDxi/s1600-h/173.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348172390916771778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJ89NQZjL_ViKC8HgVQ4HzeMOFrT6Fb-BwoIg1hoSkW2ypT93pCu_wHxtLcKmTm_aAWS339GNvE1CaKuwrpAxENtU-NcRaxFBDM4JEJ933GwDgw9S2miU0CjnDKCxnq9rrSTn9PpYSDxi/s320/173.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRMwiCPZ4Qh2CNfHJkQdcVx9Z48N8hPt3NxdnsEH6R5h6ooQuihjFhGzJ_YbRO2rCyHISbDBGHnxvBlwGlsUrBo1HldbXnJ826bltoh5A_WQUf83HXGefdEV-YAX9djsUVUDKzTlJPP6b/s1600-h/188.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348172382456460114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRMwiCPZ4Qh2CNfHJkQdcVx9Z48N8hPt3NxdnsEH6R5h6ooQuihjFhGzJ_YbRO2rCyHISbDBGHnxvBlwGlsUrBo1HldbXnJ826bltoh5A_WQUf83HXGefdEV-YAX9djsUVUDKzTlJPP6b/s320/188.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-30533454688228689392009-06-10T18:17:00.002-10:002009-06-10T18:57:48.662-10:00The Gang's all HereMy apologies for keeping away from everyone for awhile. Holding down the fort with four kiddos meant that anytime they weren't awake, I was sleeping. It was much harder than I had originally anticipated which is like saying that when bacon gets close to a frying pan, it might cook.<br />Mmmmm...bacon.<br />Now that my husband is back I have ample time to discover that I am extremely homesick. After five years in the Islands, I am no longer sure I know how to be a mainlander which I am sure makes my Island friends laugh out loud. "But you were such a California girl when you was here," I hear them say in my heads. And they are right; I was. Before I moved to Hawaii, I had never heard of a leper colony on Molokai, never heard of Queen Lili'uokalani or King Kalakaua, never heard of revolts or soveriegn rights for the only state that used to be a kingdom. Hell, I never learned the names of all the Islands. I walked like a Bay Area girl sprinkled with some Marine, or maybe it was the other way around. I was not malihini, certainly not kama'aina, just a really dedicated tourist. Perhaps I deserved to be called a haole, maybe not have it hurled at me, but I least told I was one.<br />Now that I am back here in California, I do not fit. In the same way that I once longed for the ocean like a fish out of water in Wyoming, now I find that keeping your shoes outside is not standard practice. I sent my kids to school with musubi in their lunches and listened to them send tales of shocked faces home. I have bamboo kitchen utensils and little koa honu statues. Instead of country music or rap or rock, Jack Johnson and Hapa and Paula Fuga waft from my radio. I actually told the cashier at Rite-Aid mahalo. And didn't realize it until I was at the car. Taking the kids to the playground, I find myself thinking of Laupahoehoe Point or malasadas from Tex's. I say "Howzit" and "slippah."<br />What makes a person from where they are from? Every time, every single time, I have come back to California I have thought to myself, "I am going home." Now all I can think is, "I want to go home."<br />Don't misunderstand, I am glad that we are here. The kids needed to be here near their other sets of grandparents; I needed to be here. This is where we were supposed to go next. And it really is a cute little place. Lots of older Victorian-style homes, everyone still says hi on the street, I can walk just about anywhere, and summer is coming with its promise of camping and fishing, of swimming in the river and roasted marshmallows at night. We did the right thing.<br />But the smell of beach whispers to me on the wind. The smell of Waimea fog, completely different somehow from San Francisco fog or mountain fog, lingers on the night air. My heart is strangely both here and lost, as if I were a comet with a split tail.<br />I will keep that fragile creature called aloha in my heart, hoping against hope. I wish to walk on it with my two Hawaii-born children. And they are so frightfully Island. You can even tell which ones. Ruth, born on Oahu, is the one I will catch surfing at Bowls off of Waikiki, no fear and plenny joy. And my Big Island boy, James Kekoa, mellow as the day is long and always kicking off his socks to feel the sand beneath his toes.<br />One day, you'll see.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-20442149337583488002009-04-10T06:54:00.002-10:002009-04-10T07:07:36.693-10:00Ladies and Gentlemen we have normalacyOr something approximating it anyway. Normalacy is fleeting.<br />We are, to be frank, a damn mess. Our stuff is not here, we are still at my mom's which goes okay, but the kids miss their stuff. Our Dad is not here; he is getting our stuff which goes okay, but the kids miss their dad. <br />Owen and Abra are at school which goes okay, but it's always hard to move and have to make new friends. Last night was Abra's open house and because this is a small town everyone was waving at each other except us. Owen is starting the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">IEP</span> process because of his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Asperger's</span>. They are trying to get him an aide in class.<br />And I, well, I don't know. I have a job doing typesetting for my mom at the newspaper. I do it after the kids go to bed which works. Mom is trying to get them to hire me for real and I would like to, but there are some obstacles. Like my son will not, cannot drink out of a bottle. Not really sure what the hangup is; just that he won't.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Anyhoo</span>, Easter is almost here and my husband is coming <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tomorrow</span>, but I still try not to think to hard. Mostly, I don't have time, but sometimes I just don't want to. Then I have to think about all the things that I have to do or don't or will or won't and I feel swamped. Almost, but not quite completely overwhelmed.<br />Ah well, at least it's not the end, right? Because you know, everything will turn out right in the end.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7477454609468713490.post-2022648964028961202009-03-24T15:28:00.003-10:002009-03-24T15:32:21.266-10:00On HiatusWe are currently experiencing mass amounts of chaos.<br />The world is blowing up.<br />The world is caving in.<br />The world has lost its way again.<br />But you are here with me.<br /><br />And that makes it okay.<br /><br />I'll be right back. Promise.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448515717641438888noreply@blogger.com3