tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137091792024-03-13T05:56:53.231-07:00jayniemoonjayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.comBlogger348125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-88099585211650861922013-01-20T21:14:00.001-08:002013-01-20T21:14:08.768-08:00Cellular Phones Rule!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I got a new cellular phone (although I think the kids these days mostly just call them cell phones). I've got to tell you, it is pretty remarkable! I can make a call to someone, then hop in the car and drive, and still remain on the phone with them! My cordless phone only lets me walk to my nearest neighbor's house.<br />
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There is also this thing called texting. Texting is where you can write messages to friends and send them right over the phone! So if I'm running a little late, I can "text" someone "be there in 5 minutes" and then I don't have to call. And since I'm frequently late, it is a life saver! Sometimes to make it cute you can add things like smiley faces from semi colons and parentheses. :). Then people are less mad when you're late because the text is so cute. <br />
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Cellular phones allow you to program phone numbers directly into the phone. That way, when you're out and about, shopping or swimming (obviously), and you don't have your phone book, you can still call your friends! I have great skill with the phone book, having worked with it so long, that I actually forgot to use my programmed numbers the other day and looked up a friends phone number in the phone book! Who would've ever thought we'd be living without a phone book? Futuristic!<br />
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Some cellular phones can take pictures. Mine can, but I can't figure it out, and I think the pictures turn out crappy. But I'll tell you what--they're better than the photos my cordless takes! Pictures can then be shared with friends and everyone can know just what you ate for lunch. It is totally the coolest thing to do. It is also a really good idea to take pictures of yourself when you're looking your best. Or if your waist looks extra small that day. Then, you can show them off--but it totally doesn't look like showing off! There are a couple of internet sites that allow for the posting of pictures to share with friends. Look them up in google.<br />
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Cellular phones can even wake you up in the morning. Goodbye old alarm clock! Just place your phone next to your bed and pretty soon Katy Perry will be singing you awake.<br />
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I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I've heard rumors of some cellular phones having video cameras and games and a robot lady that tells you directions and other things. Again, not sure, but something to look forward to. <br />
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In conclusion, I'm really glad I got my cellular phone. I mostly forget to carry it with me, and I think I actually left it in my mom's car yesterday cause I can't find it, but I feel like it is a really important decision I made. You ought to consider getting one. I wish someone had come up with them like ten years ago! jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-90270616379949355202013-01-12T19:27:00.000-08:002013-01-12T19:27:58.314-08:00Pour Some Sugar on Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My new year's resolution to eat more sugar is going remarkably well. It turns out, that sugar is in everything! Especially in things I really like, like gummy worms and Coke. I guess it's in "regular" stuff too, like cereal, jam and syrup. Even fruit has sugar in it! It has been, like, the easiest resolution ever. And I'm not giving up now! Not after all this hard work!<br />
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January 26th is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year. By that time, the Christmas credit card bills are due, it is still winter, and most people have tried and failed at their New Year's resolutions. I say most people, because there are a select few people who are actually succeeding at their goals. I hate to brag, but, I am one of them! I just can't see what the big deal is yet--you just pick something, and then do it! <br />
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I've done so well this year, I can't help looking forward to next year. I may even "step it up" a bit! (I think "step it up" should always be in quotes--I mean, don't you?) adding salts and oils could be a good challenge in 2014. I don't know though, I hate to jinx what I've got going now! So anyway, back to my ice cream--but boy am I full!jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-19168494329248695972012-11-09T10:07:00.000-08:002012-11-09T10:10:01.411-08:00FiveJed and I sat down to dinner with the kids last week with the intention of telling them something important. <br />
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Jed: Mom and I are going to tell you something about our family. I'll give you three guesses what it is, and if you get it right, I'll get you a Slurpee. If you don't get it right, I might get you a Slurpee. Parley, you guess first.<br />
Parley: We have to clean the basement?<br />
Jed: Uh, no. Hazel, your turn. Think about something that might affect our family that mom and I might want to tell you.<br />
Hazel: (looking around, hesitating, doubting) Uh, mom's going to have a baby?<br />
Julian: (interrupting and laughing) NO! We already have a baby!<br />
Jed: Well, Hazel is right. Hazel just earned you guys a Slurpee. Mom is going to have a baby! <br />
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Parley: Why?<br />
Jed: Just because.<br />
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Silence.<br />
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Jayne: So is anyone excited? <br />
Hazel: I am. <br />
Julian: I am. <br />
Parley: Uh, 75%. jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-86126595810603594862012-11-06T20:13:00.000-08:002012-11-06T20:13:01.280-08:00Parley's Pick<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9TJRSB2rykE/UJmU-Ze0ADI/AAAAAAAACbA/xOHgUfrBOUM/s1600/20121004-obama-romney-debate-600x-1349358087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9TJRSB2rykE/UJmU-Ze0ADI/AAAAAAAACbA/xOHgUfrBOUM/s320/20121004-obama-romney-debate-600x-1349358087.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a><br />
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We met Parley and Hazel on their walk home from school yesterday. They were deep in a silly conversation and barely noticed us, but Parley stopped chatting to tell us something.<br />
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P: I get to vote tomorrow.<br />
J: That's great buddy!<br />
P: I learned that Barack Obama has two daughters and his favorite food is Chili. His hobby is basketball. Mick Rommey likes granola and he has 18 grandchildren. He likes to go horseback riding.<br />
J: Cool bud, how did you learn that?<br />
P: I read about it in a thing.<br />
J: Who are you going to vote for?<br />
P: Obama. <br />
J: That's cool, how come?<br />
P: Cause he's been here for awhile and I still want him. <br />
J: Well that's awesome.<br />
P: Most kids in my class are going to vote for Mick Rommey because some of them say he's a Mormon.<br />
<br />jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-20122622221692208472012-10-23T17:55:00.003-07:002012-10-23T17:55:35.519-07:00Julian's Message George: {Crying in the his car seat.}<br />
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Julian: George, it's okay! You're not being hurt by a poisonous snake that's biting you!<br />
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You're okay too, whoever you are. Unless, indeed, you are being hurt by a poisonous snake that's biting you. Then, you should stop looking at my blog and head to the hospital. <br />
<br />jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-61652725423670211272012-10-21T21:42:00.000-07:002012-10-22T09:02:12.819-07:00Girlie Glue<br />
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You know Katie by now--my 'can do' sister who helped me with my eighth grade algebra when she was in sixth grade? Katie, ever a size smaller than me, ever dazzling, ever creating.<br />
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Here's an awesome thing about being Katie's sister: no one asks me to do anything. I just sit idly by and watch tv while Katie cuts my brothers' hair, makes dessert and sews tarps together to make scooter covers. Amazing. <br />
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This time though, Kate has created something that may just be her best yet (and those scooter covers were pretty remarkable). Really, I'm so proud of her. She has created and manufactured Girlie Glue--an all natural glue to stick bows on little babies. And it really works. And there is nothing else out there like it! She's pretty great, my little sis. <br />
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And since Kate's strong suit has never been spelling (there, their, they're--help!) she said if I'd do the "word stuff" (well, and provide a husband for design) I could be apart of her Girlie Glue crew. So, I'm doing something awesome now! See?<br />
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Check out our <a href="http://girlieglue.com/" target="_blank">website</a>, ok? <a href="http://girlieglue.com/" target="_blank">Girlieglue</a>.com. I did the word stuff. Jed did the design. And this glue is amazing. Hazel uses it to stick some felt earrings on since she is terrified to get her ears pierced. My nieces keep darling bows in their hair all day. <br />
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And if you buy some today, she'll know it was because of my blog, and I'll have that to hold over her. And this might be my only chance. Please? <br />
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<br />jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-44205604944158368592012-10-10T19:28:00.000-07:002012-10-10T19:28:59.532-07:00Go Team!Can we make a pact? I mean, just between you and me, human friend to human friend (the last pact I tried to make with the raccoons in my chimney ended up in a lot of banging and yelling, and a little ammonia--they just didn't keep their end of the deal). There are just a few things I think maybe we'd all be better without. Can't we make an agreement to get rid of these things?<br />
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<span id="goog_1939676456"></span><span id="goog_1939676457"></span><br />
1. <b>Treats at children's sports games</b><br />
And heaven knows it's not because I don't like treats (have you read my blog bio?). I love treats, and believe they make the world a happier place. The problem is, Julian loves treats too. And George, and Hazel. So when Parley gets his Capri Sun and package of little doughnuts or granola bar, I have to hear crying and whining the whole way home. It has become such an expectation for the kids that when a parent forgets to bring the treat, the crying seems worse than if the family pet died. The sport is the least important thing to the kids. I'm pretty sure I pay the $40 playing fee just for the Capri Sun and Fruit Snack at the end. <br />
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2. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and while we're on sports</span>, <b>Sports Team Pictures</b><br />
Can you tell I just got home from Parley's basketball game? I know it must be a big money maker for someone with a decent camera, but team pictures? I can't get the kids on Parley's team to pass the ball to him, so I don't really care if he has a photo with them. And If I did, I'd bring a camera to take it. Today we marched from the gym to the grass outside and waited for our team's turn (giant line) for them to step on the risers for a shot. In my brain I yelled, "boo." <br />
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3. <b>Political Posts on Facebook</b><br />
So you're political. You can't wait to vote. You think your candidate is the handsomest. He also dominated at the debate. He is definitely the one to change the world. You'll likely make millions during his years in office. He'd for sure give a more amazing back rub than that other guy. Really really amazing. Likely with special oils and candles. You'd probably look amazing getting that back rub too. You must post about it on Facebook. But wait! Don't! Just show us your dinner and kids instead!<br />
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4. <b>Jerks</b><br />
Jerks are the worst. <br />
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5. <b>The jayniemoon banner</b><br />
Isn't that like 5 years old? And I swear she still has the spring looking banner up. What's the deal with that? Doesn't her husband design stuff sometimes? Like for work? Lame. <br />
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So, it's a deal then. <br />
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Remember this <a href="http://jayniemoon.blogspot.com/search?q=music+truck">pact</a>? Still keeping strong here. You?jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-74253324787523727322012-10-09T20:12:00.002-07:002012-10-09T20:12:42.423-07:00The Matriarch of the Blue HairWhen Jed met the Fords on his trip to China, there was an immediate connection. When he'd call at night, he'd tell me of their kindness, generosity and great taste in food. He'd tell that Stephanie would be my dear friend, and that we had to meet. (We did meet, and we are dear friends. I love her dearly.)<br />
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Stephanie gave Jed a present of a Chinese boxed set of the one of the seasons of the Simpsons. Jed inherited a few VHS boxed sets from my brother when he upgraded to DVDs, and treasured them, so the new DVDs were a welcome addition. The Chinese version is pretty great, having clearly been ripped directly from TV, the FOX logo in the corner and all. Quite possibly the best part of the whole gift though, is the description of the show on the back. It reads:<br />
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"This cartoon describes the life of the Simpsons in Springfield. Homer Simpson's parents home is not in the traditional sense of "family man." He, as head of the family, trying to lead no big or little the family members, can be often the case that he is being led. There is love in this family, the matriarch of the blue hair, Marge, son of the king trouble Bart, daughter unexpectedly good Lisa, there are baby Maggie. The family never grow old, but the background was Springfield with the town's changes. Whatever the case more embarrassment..."<br />
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I know. Read it again. We can't stop reading it. jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-18677998517603061202012-10-04T22:11:00.002-07:002012-10-04T22:20:10.315-07:00#xoxoxolovesandkissesI'm trying to understand the hashtag thing. I mean, it seems to be the thing to do--the cat's meow of Internet awesomeness. The number sign has never seen so much action in all its menial life. Not to take away from all the sixth and seventh graders who sign their names with their number next to it (Jayne Clark #11)--that will always be an important role for the number sign to play. But now, <i>now</i>, the number sign has moved up a notch. It used to be Miley Cyrus' Hannah Montana. Now, it is Miley Cyrus' buzz cut. <br />
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I've got to say it though, I can't figure it out. It is the like the Haha of my brother's generation. Emails from Danny and his peers are littered with hahas to the point that I've started to doubt my sense of humor: <i>hows it going haha. what time are getting together? tomorrow haha? see you then haha. </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">The mystery of the constant hashtag is almost as puzzling as unfunny hahas.</span><br />
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It's true, I don't give a lot of time to trying to figure it all out. I don't have a Twitter or an Instagram account (<i>You: </i><i>what does she not have a cell phone either?</i>) so I just may be too far removed to ever understand. I'd like to give myself the benefit of the doubt though, so I've spent a little time tonight reviewing some of Jed's friends' hashtags. I think I'm starting to get it. You basically put a # in front of anything you want to say and suddenly it rules. Something could go from <i>living it up</i> to <i>#livingitup</i> and it is totally way more awesome. Now, if anyone in the whole internet wide world, wanted to look up "who is living it up tonight" they might find me. And wouldn't they be glad? Totally getting it. <br />
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Let me try a few more examples--just to make sure. So I can post a pic haha and then I can hashtag it and then it rules.<br />
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#allbecausetwopeoplefellinlove #loveathome #lovinmyman #longfingernails #jcw4ever<br />
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Yes, yes, yes! I'm loving this! Now I can include everyone in all my thoughts. I'm so far behind in this game, you've got to let me try a couple more. <br />
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#georgeisone #wheredidtimego #prettysoonhesgoingtobeafather #thenillbeagrandma #ihopeidonthavetoomanywrinkles #botoxtime<br />
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I apologize. I can absolutely understand why this hashtag thing is so popular! There is nothing really weird or ridiculous about it! I'm so glad I tested it out. #jayniemoonhahajayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-15066870993842636742012-10-02T21:28:00.001-07:002012-10-02T21:28:07.303-07:00Call Me, Maybe?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I don't have a cell phone. It's not like I lost it or broke it, I seriously do not have one.<br />
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You: What? {gasp}<br />
Me: I know!<br />
You: Really? Why?<br />
Me: I've just never got one. I am home most of the time and no one really calls me there, so it has never seemed to make a lot of sense to pay for one.<br />
You: No, but <i>really</i>. Why?<br />
Me: That's really why. Sometimes I take Jed's phone when I go out.<br />
You: I can't believe it. You've never had a phone?<br />
Me: No. I know it's weird. <br />
You: My grandma even has a phone. <br />
Me: Mine too.<br />
You: So--<br />
Me: I actually have been considering it lately. It's starting to get so strange that it's kind of embarrassing. Like when I go to Target and have to borrow the customer service phone to call Jed to see if we have bread. People don't use customer service phones anymore. <br />
You: Yeah. They don't.<br />
Me: I've started telling the Target people that I left my phone at home. I've taken up lying.<br />
You: Looks like not having a phone makes you a bad person.<br />
Me: Wow. I guess so.<br />
You: You're a weird and bad person. And your breath smells bad. And you are a jerk and a loser. <br />
Me: {in shock, eyes bulging}<br />
You: I'm sorry I had to say that aloud. I would have just sent it in a text, but--you know--no phone.<br />
Me: Yeah, I know. <br />
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Tune it tomorrow for our conversation after I tell you I don't have a Costco Membership.jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-54110042336660432932012-09-17T15:39:00.000-07:002012-09-17T15:40:12.497-07:0017 years, Sept 17<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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First kiss Sept 17, 1995= 17 happy years together<br />
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I've loved you for a long time, Jed. And who could blame me? Love you, dearie.jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-16379255675029322912012-07-16T22:45:00.000-07:002012-07-16T22:48:51.475-07:00Prince of Darkness<a href="http://falmouthjewish.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/devil.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://falmouthjewish.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/devil.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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Tonight, during family home evening, we were reading a scripture that mentioned Satan. Julian perked up and said, "Satan?"<br />
"Yeah, he's a <i>really</i> bad guy," Hazel instructed.<br />
"And he makes you do bad stuff." Parley continued.<br />
Then Julian, after considering said, "Yeah, <a href="http://http//jayniemoon.blogspot.com/search?q=Atticus">Atticus</a> and Jones know him."jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-68253796691058598822012-07-13T22:59:00.001-07:002012-07-14T14:35:22.895-07:00Funny, Funny, Flat ThingsI need a new bra. George stopped nursing a month ago, taking both my heart and breasts away. I hate buying underwear--you'll <a href="http://jayniemoon.blogspot.com/search?q=top+ten+worst+things" target="_blank">recall</a>, and my last bras were actually given to me by my younger cousin, Paige, so I guess it's time I break down and purchase something that really fits. <br />
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Since I didn't see myself having an extra hour to go out and look at the latest styles of white or off-white bras, I started to search online. Trying on bras is almost as bad as forking out money for them, but online shopping seems a little risky. I mean, even the names are overwhelming--supermodel push-up bra, cotton lingerie wireless bra, sexy-tee full coverage bra, multi-way bra, bandeaus and bralettes (what are those anyway?). I searched the site and never found the "just finished nursing my fourth baby and need to look decent in a t-shirt and a little extra padding would be nice" bra, so I'm really stumped. <br />
<br />
Since my babies have robbed me of my former C cup (but gave generously to my lower abdomen), I'm not even sure what size I am. The two sites giving me directions on how to measure myself offer suggestions that give me two different sizes. <br />
I went downstairs to ask for Jed's help. Our conversation went like this:<br />
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"I need you to help me measure my bust so I can get a new bra." I said, while lifting up my shirt and handing him a tape measure.<br />
"Are you sure you're supposed to measure yourself while you're wearing a bra that's too big for you?"<br />
"The site said to wear a bra!"<br />
"Okay, but that one is just too big."<br />
"But that's all I have!"<br />
"Okay, but --"<br />
"<i>Fiiiiiiiiine</i>. Where is that bra lady that measures you when you need her?"<br />
<br />
But when it came down to it, and I had a little time to get measured, I couldn't face it. I went to dinner with my friends instead. I told them I was supposed to be getting a new bra. Casey had a solution. "You've got to get a genie bra. I promise. You'll never go back!" She then told us about when she'd given up on wearing bras and her sister told her since she was eight months pregnant she had to wear one. So she gave her the genie bra. "I'm leaving you one at my mom's house!" Casey told me, before she left to go home to Ohio the next morning. It didn't sound so bad--no fitting, and free? Wrap it up, I'll take it!<br />
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Is this starting to feel like the <a href="http://jayniemoon.blogspot.com/search?q=breaking+the+chains+of+love" target="_blank">friendship amish bread</a> of bras to you? Her sister left her one and now she's leaving me one. Am <i>I </i>now, responsible to change someone else's life with a genie bra? <br />
<br />
Well you just wait and see. If this bra (including something called "modesty pads"--how mother-like!) is just what I ever wanted, you may be the next lucky recipient. jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-63013589912841197482012-07-11T15:51:00.004-07:002012-07-14T14:39:53.987-07:00Giant George<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Jed, George and I went to Crest to get a drink the other day. I got George a smarties sucker instead of a Coke. Mary, the nice lady behind the counter, liked him and was chatting with him while we paid for our treats. "Can you say 'Mary?'" she questioned him several times. George, who at nine months doesn't say anything, just smiled. Jed and I laughed on the way back to the car. He may be look big enough to say Mary, but he's just a giant nine month old.jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-16514690861345344812012-07-10T15:30:00.001-07:002012-07-10T15:33:58.920-07:00This Mysterious Thing Called KSLUtah's Craigslist, though it does exist, is less popular than our KSL classifieds. KSL is our local channel 5 news station, and somehow, the classified ads are booming. My sister has sold some crazy crap on there, like her old fence, blown down and broken by the wind. Leave it to <a href="http://jayniemoon.blogspot.com/search?q=curtains" target="_blank">Katie</a>. She'll find a way to turn garbage into money for herself. <br />
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I like KSL and have purchased a good number of things I've found while browsing its cyber shelves. I've even sold a few things (although Katie would have likely fetched more for them). Hazel's princess bike sold in a matter of minutes to a little girl a few blocks away, and a little red cabinet Jed painted is housing someone else's CDs and DVDs. A good toaster oven and shabby chic bassinet have yet to find new homes, and so live adrift in our overflowing shed-- the <i>real </i>island of misfit toys. But I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that KSL will place them with good families soon.<br />
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KSL has been good to us though, and I've driven a hard bargain (you know that's not true) for an iPod, an iPhone, and a bike for Hazel. The bike would have cost a whole $15, were it not for the $150 ticket I got for missing a stop sign while trying to follow directions to get to the seller's house in Salt Lake. We found Julian and Parley a few stellar Power Ranger costumes that came with a bonus Ninja Turtle ensemble to boot! The whole set of costumes, before the $45 locksmith fee because Julian locked the whole family out of the car, also cost $15. <br />
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Locksmith fees and traffic citations aside, we've had some good luck with our classified purchases. And when, at the recent Freedom Festival Parade, the KSL float came by bearing news anchors smiling and waving atop, Parley yelled, "KSL! KSL!" Neither the BYU float nor the Jetsons balloons generated nearly the same excitement. <br />
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I hadn't ever thought about the mystery that the KSL classifieds might be to the kids, especially when you consider the incredible variety of items one is able to purchase there, until we went to search for a trampoline a few weeks ago at a sporting goods store at the mall. We walked in together as a family and the kids went from ball to helmet to glove trying everything out. It was at the height of this pleasurable frenzy that Parley said, as if discovering gold at the end of the rainbow, "Is <i>this</i> KSL?" Julian, who insists that IKEA is actually the physical KSL, would have disagreed if he hadn't been too busy knocking over a rack of running shorts.<br />
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As I hurried them out to the car before anything else in the store was damaged, I remembered why my kids don't know what a mall is. Thank you KSL classifieds. <br />
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<br />jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-66038608974441045692012-07-05T19:26:00.002-07:002012-07-05T20:22:56.776-07:00The Summer Plan <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ymRNaLG-K1M/T_ZLenfGHLI/AAAAAAAACMY/Se-zSyewstw/s1600/photo%2814%29.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ymRNaLG-K1M/T_ZLenfGHLI/AAAAAAAACMY/Se-zSyewstw/s400/photo%2814%29.JPG" width="298" /></a><br />
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I told the kids I wasn't reminding them about their jobs anymore. They know the system by now--follow the plan and earn time on the computer or wii, then have the rest of the day to play. If they don't follow the plan, they don't earn anything, and have to stay home until it's done. The plan includes getting dressed, a few lame jobs, practicing (the piano or a sport, depending on lessons) and reading. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday include the additional 'get in the tub' step (which, may seem like a small thing to ask, but continues to bring violent protests when it shows up). At most, the plan should take an hour and a half to complete.<br />
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The plan is organized to be its own motivator: Do your stuff = get a reward. Don't do it = stay home, no reward. But somehow, I'm still the motivating force behind their productivity. So after a month of prodding and pleading, (<i>putting forks away isn't hard. Just put them in the drawer.</i> or <i>All you have to do is put your clothes on and you can mark a box off. Just put on a pair of shorts and a shirt!</i>) I've given up reminding. I'm going to let the plan do its own job.<br />
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Tuesday I tested out my resolve. Not long into Tuesday, I became super mad. At 2:00 pm the kids were still not even close to finishing the tasks (getting dressed can be such a bear!). Hazel made her bed, but just couldn't face the pile of laundry that she was assigned to fold. Parley unloaded the dishes, but felt it a serious injustice that he still had to make his bed and put his pajamas back in his drawer. Julian, who is always terrible at jobs, hadn't done anything.
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As time went on, I became more mad. And it was taking everything I had not to go in and point out (loudly) that their jobs weren't hard and <i>Don't they know that so-and-so down the street does a lot more jobs and maybe they'd like to trade?</i> I wanted them to know that if they would've started immediately, they would've been done three hours ago. I held strong and didn't say a word. <br />
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The plan was not doing its job. If only, I thought, someone invited them to do something really fun, and they couldn't go because they weren't finished yet. Wouldn't that just be the thing I need? But who? And what?<br />
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And then Jed, who was away most of the morning, came home. And I smiled a grinchy smile. <br />
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I sent him in with a proposition of going to a movie together. The hypothetical movie was to start in fifteen minutes. And at a crucial moment, just as it was sinking in, he was to add this important qualifier: "Did you guys finish all the things you need to do so we can go?"
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I wish you could have been there to see Jed's proposition. The panic and the tears and the cries of, "which movie is it?" Jed and I muffled the chuckles well. And as I looked over the beauty of the scene, it hushed my angry mind, and assured me that the plan will work. Tomorrow we might be heading to the water park, the next day we could surely have plans to go to Lagoon. This plan <i><i>will</i></i> work.jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-15362273353683507532012-06-28T16:22:00.000-07:002012-06-28T16:22:08.878-07:00Conversation with GeorgeGeorge and I talk about the primary election on Tuesday. It took me since Tuesday to figure out how to load this video. Yes, my husband makes videos for a living.
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/I8ZqEU4M4LU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-5515433109679623802012-05-20T22:45:00.000-07:002012-05-20T22:45:21.500-07:00Funny, Funny, Fat Things Part 2Julian is best friends with my sister's little girl, Penny. They're always looking out for each other and Penny is happy to play Power Rangers--she just wants to be the pink one. Because they get along so well, Katie and I get them together a lot (which gives me a break from being Pink Power Ranger. Although, I really look awesome in my pink high waisted shorts and midriff shirt).<br />
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One day when I was getting the kids in the car to take Penny back home, I was buckling her into her booster seat when she patted my chest and said, "Jaynie, you have boobies." (Look what Katie teaches her kids!)<br />
Surprised, but not really, I said, "Yes I do." <br />
"Because all mommies have boobies." Penny stated, matter-of-factly.<br />
"Yeah, but my mommy's are SO big." came Julian, deciding to join the conversation.<br />
Then Penny, "But my mommy's are not so big. They're just little."<br />
Then Julian, "But my mommy's are SO big."<br />
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Which reminded me of the time I left a highlighted verse of Solomon's Song on Katie's bed in high school. Chapter 8, verse 8: "We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts: what shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for?"<br />
I also left a biology text book open to a page with the male anatomy on it for her. Twice. (I was always looking out for her!)<br />
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Unfortunately, if you inserted "love handles" in place of "boobies" in the conversation, it would still hold true. I'm thanking heaven that Solomon left out the older sisters verses!jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-84355933251719254382012-05-08T10:33:00.002-07:002012-05-08T10:34:06.991-07:00In Case You Were Having a Bad Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-55832910220293571672012-05-06T21:42:00.000-07:002012-05-06T21:45:18.586-07:005K-K-K-Kount Me Out!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As we near the end of the school year, with it's track meets and testing, I'm reminded of when running and testing joined forces when I was a kid. The program was called AAU. It stood for something, but I can't remember what it was. Athletic? America? Uncomfortable? I don't know. But it seems like some president, in an effort to "keep American kids fit," had us all involved in a mandatory athletic program where we were tested at the beginning, middle and end of the school year. We had to do chin-ups (or the chin hang for girls) the wall sit, sit ups, and running. Was there more? Good heavens, I don't know. But I do know I dreaded that running. I wasn't a fan of the other stuff either, but the running--oh the running. It seemed so long, the running. Looking back, it was probably a mile (or less) but the pressure to beat your score from before was intense (<i>intense</i>, I tell you!). It seriously seemed like the President himself (Reagan, now that I'm thinking of it) was going to come to your school and talk about you being unfit if you didn't improve your score. <br />
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So I ran. I dreaded the end of year run more than the end of year tests. Those eight times around the blacktop just couldn't have been less welcomed--even at the time of year when the world is welcoming everything. I've never liked running since.<br />
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You're not going to believe this, but someone came up with an AAU for adults. Only instead of being mandatory, it is completely voluntary. And not only that, there is a charge for these kinds of AAUs. And typically, the more times you have to run around the blacktop (or through the city along orange cones) the more you have to pay. Some of the AAU's are called 5Ks. Other AAUs are called half marathons and the big daddy of the AAUs is the marathon. <br />
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It seems completely ridiculous, but people actually sign up! They volunteer to run in the heat, with a pack of other disillusioned people and they pay money to do it! At times I've wanted to stop a few of them and tell them it is free to run in my neighborhood. And, just to make sure, I'd let them know that the AAU program has been over for a few years and they actually didn't have to subject themselves to the torture anymore.<br />
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Then I got a better idea. Since it appears that the organizers of these adult AAU programs are making some good money (Our school needs pencils--come pay us to run!) I decided, I'd better keep this trend alive before all these adults find out that no one is keeping track of their score anymore. I've decided to have a <i>Help Jayne remodel her bathroom 5K</i>. It is going to be sometime in June (I'm really anxious to start tiling) and I'll set up some cones around my block. I'll have to drive around and find out how many times you'll have to run around to make it a 5K, but I've got time. Hazel and Parley will set up a drink station with my hose and if there's enough money left over, after I've bought the new sinks and toilets, I'll get some popsicles. Likely those twin pops though, don't get your hopes up. Those juice bars can get pricey. $25 will get you a ticket to run in my 5K, and that includes a paper number taped to your back. Julian is practicing his numbers, and I don't like to waste the paper. You might all be number 1, but that's really all anyone wants to be anyway, right?<br />
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So, June 17 (I just looked at my calendar and it's free). Plan on it. 10 a.m. at my house and all around the block. I will also set up a bar for chin-ups, and my wall will be free for the wall-sit. That will cost extra though. <br />
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<br />jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-9597069363373512932012-04-25T23:15:00.001-07:002012-04-25T23:18:19.245-07:00The Bragging PoliceRemember how when we were kids we were taught not to brag? Older siblings and cousins would be the first to call you out on it, letting you know that what you said was, indeed, bragging. A few loud reminders like that, in front of other neighborhood kids was enough to remind us: nobody likes bragging.<br />
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It must've been confusing for us back then, with all the praise our parents give us, to suddenly have to keep our awesomeness to ourselves. It reminds me of when I was a fifth grader in P.E. It meant a great deal to me to be good at sports back then (what? Is that surprising?) because my best friend and cousin, Jesse, was so athletic. I was always trying to impress him, so when a BYU basketball player came to visit our P.E. class and teach a few skills, I was anxious to show my stuff. After an hour of dribbling around cones and free throw shots, I felt pretty confident that I <i>was</i> the star I imagined myself to be. We lined up to head back to the classroom and the BYU player praised our class aloud to Mrs. Busco.<br />
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"There was one boy and one girl that I noticed had a lot of ability out there on the court." he said, and then found Jesse in the boy line next to me. "There he is, what is your name?" he asked him. While Jesse answered, I waited, sure he'd point me out next. "I'm not sure which girl it was I noticed before, but you all did well." he said, casually. My mind raced. He was about to leave and I would never know if it was, indeed, me, who was so exceptional out there on the court. It had to be me, right? I <i>had</i> to know. I couldn't imagine always wondering. And I certainly needed Jesse to know that it was me. It wasn't enough if only <i>I</i> knew. I raised my hand.<br />
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"Was it me?" I questioned desperately.<br />
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Surprised, the BYU player looked at me with my hand raised, and having been put on the spot so suddenly said, "Uh yes, yes I think it was you."<br />
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It was at that moment that the reminding reprimands of my older cousins and neighbors came into my head "That's like bragging Jayne!" and I sheepishly put my hand back down. <br />
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I learned my lesson about bragging that day, (especially when it comes to basketball--I hate to make people feel bad because I'm so amazing) and it seemed for the most part, that most people around me did too. But then the internet came and blurred everybody's vision and told everyone bragging was the new awesome. In fact, it gave us multiple platforms where we could brag up and down about ourselves. We can become friends with people we know and post the most flattering pictures of ourselves and talk about our homemade items. If we only have a little time, we can just write a sentence or two about our romantic vacation and send it out across the interwaves. If our dinner was super awesome, we can take a quick pic (oh, that's picture guys) and then everyone can feel like they were there right at our side. And if we want to, we can post videos about our big muscles, how patient we are, and how much money we make. And I don't know about you, but I'm starting to feel like one of those lame-os who wasn't the one picked as being a star on the 5th grade basketball court (<i>SO</i> glad that wasn't me!) because, yikes, I can't do any of that awesome stuff! <br />
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I am just warning you: I've heard that the Bragging Police is out there. He is trying to bust braggers and remind us of the good old fashioned lessons we learned back when we were kids: save your bragging for when a really important person is around and you want to look good in front of your athletic cousin.jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-12478955016399265212012-03-31T11:03:00.005-07:002012-03-31T15:16:18.310-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Tuned Into Conference</span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eBMp9N6T5Ek/T3eAIG9ck4I/AAAAAAAACLU/Eodbk69pPHg/s1600/Photo%2B780.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eBMp9N6T5Ek/T3eAIG9ck4I/AAAAAAAACLU/Eodbk69pPHg/s400/Photo%2B780.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726186328020521858" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Hazel<br />Parley<br />Julian<br />19 cats<br />3 bears<br />1 elephant<br />5 dogs<br />1 frog<br />1 monkey<br />2 bunnies<br />1 lion<br />1 mystery animal (related to the cat family)<br />2 hamster balls<br />3 power rangers<br />Penguin<br />Darth Vader<br />Two Face<br />& Batman<br /><br />I looked over during the first session and noted that Darth Vader was looking quite ashamed at talk of needed repentance. Batman looked at Penguin and Two Face several times boasting an "I told you so." For his sake, I hope there isn't a talk about pride tomorrow.jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-11416504201454342212012-03-07T07:40:00.001-08:002012-03-07T07:41:33.347-08:00<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Good Morning!</span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qMQoYy_GI-A/T1eBnukKEaI/AAAAAAAACLI/mgro2mQKUxo/s1600/Photo%2B767.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qMQoYy_GI-A/T1eBnukKEaI/AAAAAAAACLI/mgro2mQKUxo/s400/Photo%2B767.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717180771484701090" border="0" /></a>jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-90974467817394016542012-03-01T20:59:00.002-08:002012-03-06T09:08:15.923-08:00<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Friendship</span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wZJqRuul0xQ/T1ZBba2c8hI/AAAAAAAACK8/npm6-e4mgYM/s1600/panoramic%2Bpicture%2Bphs.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wZJqRuul0xQ/T1ZBba2c8hI/AAAAAAAACK8/npm6-e4mgYM/s400/panoramic%2Bpicture%2Bphs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716828716313408018" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">From top left circled in bulldog green, Nick, Jesse, Lori, Jed, me. Emily must be next to me, but cut off (sorry, Em) others, not circled are totally awesome people who went to Provo High with us.</span><br /><br />I could always count on a group of guy friends because of <a href="http://jayniemoon.blogspot.com/2007/02/cousins-dear-cousins-i-took-hazel-and.html">Jesse</a>. Jesse, my cousin, but more like my twin brother, grew up across the street from me. He was adored by all, but mostly by me. So until I met Jed, my "boyfriend" each year was Jesse's best friend. He always set me up with the best--which is how I met Nick. It was the beginning of my 7th grade year, and there was a dance on the tennis courts. Jesse knew Nick from sports, and he told me I should like him. I danced with him a couple of times, while Jesse gave me the thumbs up from behind, and soon we were 'going out'. Which, really meant, we were writing notes to each other sometimes, and dancing together sometimes at the dances. I knew I was special to be Nick's girlfriend. Like I said, Jesse only set me up with the best.<br /><br />Lori and Emily were my best friends. We'd take turns sleeping at each others' houses and their families became second families to me. I used their phone numbers so frequently, I still have them committed to memory. Emily's dad was sure she should marry Jesse, which may be why he didn't mind having me around so much.<br /><br />As the years went on, Jesse's friends were my friends, and mine were his. They would shoot spit wads at us from the back of the class and tease us as we walked down the hall, but somehow, we managed to stay good friends.<br /><br />Emily and I both got to claim Nick as a boyfriend for different times of our junior high days, but in the end, he lucked out and married Lori. They are a perfect pair and have made three beautiful children who are a fantastic mix of them both.<br /><br />This past Saturday, Emily and I went to a funeral to commemorate the life of Nick's youngest brother CJ. The service was beautiful, and Nick's address brought me to tears several times. As I looked around the chapel at the many people there to celebrate this good man's life, I recognized the backs of several heads. Sprinkled throughout the crowd were those boys who used to shoot the spit wads and try and put us in garbage cans. This time, without their straws, and with handsome suits. As I watched them, there to support their dear friend, I was so moved. I thought about life, and all the aspects of it. Of how growing up, with all its hardships, helps us to be strong with each other and for each other. Looking at those boys, now men and fathers, now somber and serious, was a beautiful sight. With Emily next to me, looking up at Lori and her new (less than a week old) baby, I was overcome with gratitude for friends, and the journey of becoming friends.jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709179.post-51427888037345395052012-02-23T21:02:00.004-08:002012-02-23T21:46:55.173-08:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Photo Booth</span></span><br /><br />You'd think, as the family of a professional photographer, we'd be so sick of photos of ourselves that we'd be content to leave well enough alone. But these days, it seems, Jed's always off using his camera on other people. In fact, one day, Parley said to me, "Mom, can we get a camera that takes <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> kinds of pictures?" Confused, I asked him to explain. "You know," he said, "The kind that we can put on the fridge." Oh, the printed kind! <br /><br />And Julian, upon seeing that my mom had pictures framed of all the other grandkids (because my sister is so diligent about taking hers to Kiddie Kandids) said to my mom, "Grandma, I'm in preschool now, so you can put my picture up too." <br /><br />See, printing photos means I have to actually go through and choose pictures and their sizes and where I'm going to have them printed (without picky Jed finding out I went to Walgreens). So they sit in folders (and folders and folders) and not making it to my mom's frames. Meanwhile, poor Julian can't figure out what he did to make Grandma not want to put his picture up.<br /><br />The other day I realized that I hardly have any pictures of George and me together. So, since I don't have a camera, or even a cell phone, I turned to photo booth. As soon as I sat down to take a few pictures of us, the other kids came running. They love photo booth. Particularly Hazel. It is pretty great to see what kinds of pictures they come up with. Here are a few with George--that were supposed to be just him and me.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-raelu6umiH4/T0cdjy5QvlI/AAAAAAAACJE/9hCluCpkPxs/s1600/Photo%2B736.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-raelu6umiH4/T0cdjy5QvlI/AAAAAAAACJE/9hCluCpkPxs/s400/Photo%2B736.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712567153137335890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7FurV_sIepI/T0cdkNjDXQI/AAAAAAAACJM/kxorre-iEp4/s1600/Photo%2B723.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7FurV_sIepI/T0cdkNjDXQI/AAAAAAAACJM/kxorre-iEp4/s400/Photo%2B723.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712567160291941634" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UYgRr-KHLh0/T0cdkRhIxvI/AAAAAAAACJc/pQKfKAjwC8E/s1600/Photo%2B735.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UYgRr-KHLh0/T0cdkRhIxvI/AAAAAAAACJc/pQKfKAjwC8E/s400/Photo%2B735.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712567161357649650" border="0" /></a><br /><br />and finally I got one.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rcH77XiVqWg/T0cdlr4t67I/AAAAAAAACJ0/MHjJ7Wzk9Wo/s1600/Photo%2B729.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rcH77XiVqWg/T0cdlr4t67I/AAAAAAAACJ0/MHjJ7Wzk9Wo/s400/Photo%2B729.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712567185615743922" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Then I came across some great ones of Hazel that I didn't know she'd taken.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oThB3PtxRJ4/T0ceyBMKyuI/AAAAAAAACKA/WubArsh5it4/s1600/Photo%2B714.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oThB3PtxRJ4/T0ceyBMKyuI/AAAAAAAACKA/WubArsh5it4/s400/Photo%2B714.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712568497004530402" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QycWOQqlKqU/T0ceyWDWKjI/AAAAAAAACKM/_5UJQ2ymxoA/s1600/Photo%2B703.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QycWOQqlKqU/T0ceyWDWKjI/AAAAAAAACKM/_5UJQ2ymxoA/s400/Photo%2B703.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712568502604671538" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fwMElnFdq0I/T0cey58kLsI/AAAAAAAACKY/tbJnKUXTFnk/s1600/Photo%2B712.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fwMElnFdq0I/T0cey58kLsI/AAAAAAAACKY/tbJnKUXTFnk/s400/Photo%2B712.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712568512239906498" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-glll3BUSEGY/T0cezR2ZWSI/AAAAAAAACKk/JMH2DdyJ538/s1600/Photo%2B709.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-glll3BUSEGY/T0cezR2ZWSI/AAAAAAAACKk/JMH2DdyJ538/s400/Photo%2B709.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712568518656481570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZntnhJYQyTo/T0cezgJrBTI/AAAAAAAACKw/npWT66QfRWs/s1600/Photo%2B707.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZntnhJYQyTo/T0cezgJrBTI/AAAAAAAACKw/npWT66QfRWs/s400/Photo%2B707.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712568522495427890" border="0" /></a><br /><br />If we ever can afford a camera that takes "those kind of pictures" we might move away from photo booth. But we just might not.jayne wellshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517417360126329918noreply@blogger.com9