tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67817990826488660182024-03-13T12:37:05.931-07:00AwomandaI am a mother, daughter, wife, and sister. These are just my rambling thoughts and adventures from everyday life with my husband and son, family and dear friends and other crazy people I know. I love to find humor in most everything and I love to draw and create funny images from those situations.A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-50147698183736135622013-06-25T05:47:00.003-07:002013-06-25T05:47:59.634-07:00Holy Goodness! It has been sooooo long! I have even reproduced again and Q is NOW is BIG Brother to little Laurel Fair. Yesterday as he enticed her crawl up on him and slap him in the face, his 10 month old little sister squeeled with laughter. He looked at me and said: "I'm glad I did not get my wish for a little brother becuase I love her so much."<br />
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Yeah, the mom in me grinned from ear to ear -- I am so proud of my little man.<br />
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A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-55142443067429518182011-05-23T12:32:00.000-07:002011-05-23T12:34:12.656-07:00Been a While Huh?Well, it sure has been a while since I last wrote and Q is now 4! I can't believe how time has flown by. I will update more soon as Q has daily adventures that keep us in hysterics!A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-20944336084141127882009-04-22T13:40:00.000-07:002009-04-22T13:53:38.099-07:00Corby's Project<span style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><div><span style="color:#000000;">I will posting updates of Corby's new project -- <strong><em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Playgroundutopia</span> a la Benton.</em></strong></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">He has purchased (or rather, yahoo for one year's interest free financing!) a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">behemoth</span> that will be delivered in early May to your backyard where upon Corby and his Dad will put it together. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">In typical Amanda and Corby fashion what started out as looking into something small and cheap to entertain Q in the back yard -- something we could even build ourselves to save money -- has turned into a full blown, wallet blowing project involving giant fancy <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">play sets</span> and landscaping, the rental of bob-cat like diggers, retaining walls, sod and plants... we can't do anything low key over here. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">We figured we would be in our little house at least another year -- depending on the economy and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">play set</span> can go with us when we move -- and the yard improvements will only help to sell when that time comes -- <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">because</span> before last week -- NOTHING had been done to the yard!</span></div><br /><div> </div><div>I fully expect this Saturday to be a day full of entertainment with the spectacle that will be Corby <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Hilley</span> driving a little excavator -- I hope he does not take out Martha and/or Janet's fences. I am thinking of selling <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">concessions</span> and have invited all of our neighbors and friends to come bring a lawn chair and enjoy the sights!<br /><br /></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">Will keep you posted.</span></div><div><br /> </div><div><span style="color:#000000;">Here is the <span style="color:#ff6600;"><em><strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Playgroundutopia</span> a la Benton</strong></em></span>:</span></div><div><span style="color:#3366ff;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Se-Cw2qOluI/AAAAAAAAB6o/Yof1aWru6oo/s1600-h/3131_1146216936968_1273870217_384574_4885418_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327620660020549346" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 277px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Se-Cw2qOluI/AAAAAAAAB6o/Yof1aWru6oo/s320/3131_1146216936968_1273870217_384574_4885418_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Se-CxLqWWJI/AAAAAAAAB6w/CRx78-bU2TE/s1600-h/3131_1146216976969_1273870217_384575_6504489_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327620665658202258" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Se-CxLqWWJI/AAAAAAAAB6w/CRx78-bU2TE/s320/3131_1146216976969_1273870217_384575_6504489_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-10845626249685888212009-04-15T06:53:00.000-07:002009-04-15T07:02:00.252-07:00Corby, Dad and I and the afternoon nap<div align="center">We all took a little nappy-pooh after Easter lunch and the first annual Douglas/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hilley</span> Easter egg hunt. Q was down in his room at his Mimi's -- Corby was passed out on the sofa, Dad was nodding off in the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">lazy boy</span> and I had my large self crammed onto a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">love seat</span> (note the low vantage point from the picture of Corby and Dad). Mom said she came in from getting Q down and it looked like a massacre had taken place in her den -- people had fallen out everywhere.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXnh4tT1dI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/r6rressB524/s1600-h/3282_1144870063163_1269847664_384116_26087_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324916703779608018" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXnh4tT1dI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/r6rressB524/s320/3282_1144870063163_1269847664_384116_26087_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">This is one of my favorite pictures of my sweet husband. HE HATES IT and will probably give me hell for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">putting</span> it up here. I just think he is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">soooo</span> cute here. This was his comment on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">facebook</span> where I have it posted:</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1273870217"><em><span style="color:#cc0000;">Corby <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Hilley</span></span></em></a><em><span style="color:#cc0000;"> at 10:00pm April 12<br />I'm just glad a bunch of hippies didn't show up with buckets of water to keep me hydrated until they could push me back in the water.</span></em></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXnh8C4-ZI/AAAAAAAAB6g/kVWPE1np_D4/s1600-h/3282_1144872863233_1269847664_384121_2967863_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324916704675428754" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXnh8C4-ZI/AAAAAAAAB6g/kVWPE1np_D4/s320/3282_1144872863233_1269847664_384121_2967863_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc33cc;">I love my husband so much.</span></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-3554705390467716272009-04-15T06:40:00.000-07:002009-04-15T18:02:59.887-07:00What do you do with a free rubber glove?<div><div> Quentin LOVES rubber surgical gloves --like they use at the Dr.'s office. They also use them at his daycare when they change diapers so he is very familiar with them. Last week I had to go to the Dr. first thing in the morning and then take Q to his Dr.'s appointment. I was proud of Quen as he sat on my lap and behaved while I went to the dermatologist and received 5 shots of cortisone in my face (I had to be strong for my little boo only slightly cringing with each needle insertion). He only asked Dr. Jaffe once "<em>What are you doing to my momma's face</em>?" He was also able to get a rubber glove off of Dr. Jaffe who gave him one for entertainment purposes and to probably shut him up because he kept asking for one.<br /></div><div> The rubber glove went with us to his Dr.'s appointment where while in the room waiting for Dr. Rickenmann he used it for many things -- as a glove, as a "pocket" to put random stuff he pulled out of my purse in, and as something to plug up the doorstop with (see below). He was very proud of himself for that feat -- he tucked and tucked and tucked until it was all in there.</div><div><br />1.<br /></div><div></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXlxzYQsdI/AAAAAAAAB6I/8cmP9819Zco/s1600-h/2637_1131715214300_1269847664_378151_1666933_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324914778203795922" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXlxzYQsdI/AAAAAAAAB6I/8cmP9819Zco/s320/2637_1131715214300_1269847664_378151_1666933_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>2.<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXlx0CB1pI/AAAAAAAAB6A/BTFr-Bww1Gc/s1600-h/3282_1131715454306_1269847664_378152_6441615_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324914778378983058" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXlx0CB1pI/AAAAAAAAB6A/BTFr-Bww1Gc/s320/3282_1131715454306_1269847664_378152_6441615_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>3. VOILA!</div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXlyLcJP6I/AAAAAAAAB6Q/ZvMozsve_Y8/s1600-h/2637_1131715854316_1269847664_378153_6112129_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324914784662536098" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXlyLcJP6I/AAAAAAAAB6Q/ZvMozsve_Y8/s320/2637_1131715854316_1269847664_378153_6112129_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div>The glove then went home with us where it was dragged around all day, taken to the sandbox where it was filled with sand, clutched while eating Cheetos so it had a nice orange stain to it, pulled on to one of his feet so he could have a "duck foot" and even taken to the bath with us. He fell asleep with the raggedy and by now punctured many times over glove -- which had to be pried from his hand. The "glub" was then thrown away.</div><div> </div><div>When he woke up in the morning -- I could hear him on the monitor talking about and asking about his "glub".</div><div> </div><div>I may need to invest in a box.</div></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-86543503547760196572009-04-15T06:33:00.001-07:002009-04-15T06:40:21.467-07:00CORBY EGG<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">For several Easters now -- I have drawn a "Corby egg"...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Here he is this year.</span></strong></div><p align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXjfx769XI/AAAAAAAAB5w/CpzQdWW_OEI/s1600-h/3282_1145117189341_1269847664_385232_7504209_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324912269555594610" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXjfx769XI/AAAAAAAAB5w/CpzQdWW_OEI/s320/3282_1145117189341_1269847664_385232_7504209_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXjgHMRvaI/AAAAAAAAB54/fHTzwr3R-vM/s1600-h/n1269847664_385226_1594903.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324912275261341090" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXjgHMRvaI/AAAAAAAAB54/fHTzwr3R-vM/s320/n1269847664_385226_1594903.jpg" border="0" /></a></p>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-16004861473424064982009-04-14T19:01:00.000-07:002009-04-15T06:28:41.777-07:00Easter and the used car salesman<div align="center"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="color:#ff6666;">We had a great Easter. Easter morning we went out in the yard and took pictures. My very pregnant neighbor was nice enough to come outside and take the family shot.<br /></span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXco7GsKvI/AAAAAAAAB5g/MUjqbsdk4JM/s1600-h/3282_1145158990386_1269847664_385370_3090050_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324904730054109938" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXco7GsKvI/AAAAAAAAB5g/MUjqbsdk4JM/s320/3282_1145158990386_1269847664_385370_3090050_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXcoluMCMI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/9XfWvn3MHlE/s1600-h/3282_1145159230392_1269847664_385371_3326140_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324904724314196162" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXcoluMCMI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/9XfWvn3MHlE/s320/3282_1145159230392_1269847664_385371_3326140_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="color:#33cc00;">My other neighbor later said that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Quen</span> looked like the most "<strong>trustworthy used car salesman she had ever seen</strong>".</span></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXceXBGyXI/AAAAAAAAB5A/BQaHsDpz5d8/s1600-h/3282_1145160070413_1269847664_385375_5278175_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324904548568320370" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXceXBGyXI/AAAAAAAAB5A/BQaHsDpz5d8/s320/3282_1145160070413_1269847664_385375_5278175_n.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXcoxyK9LI/AAAAAAAAB5o/psVDMBYDZE4/s1600-h/3282_1145158750380_1269847664_385369_2608835_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324904727552128178" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXcoxyK9LI/AAAAAAAAB5o/psVDMBYDZE4/s320/3282_1145158750380_1269847664_385369_2608835_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><span style="color:#ff9900;"><strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Quen</span> is pulling up his pant leg so you can see that his socks match his tie -- they have dinosaurs on them.</strong></span></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXceiRuL9I/AAAAAAAAB5I/IaQ9MhCKEmc/s1600-h/3282_1145159830407_1269847664_385374_8045146_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324904551590801362" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXceiRuL9I/AAAAAAAAB5I/IaQ9MhCKEmc/s320/3282_1145159830407_1269847664_385374_8045146_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXcocHJcpI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/VZ06rTxopUE/s1600-h/3282_1145159430397_1269847664_385372_5642710_n.jpg"><span style="color:#993399;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324904721734529682" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXcocHJcpI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/VZ06rTxopUE/s320/3282_1145159430397_1269847664_385372_5642710_n.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#993399;">Corby and I laughed at how much each <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">holiday</span> has become like Christmas for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Quen</span>. When Corby and I were little, we got one Easter basket with candy and maybe a little something else. In the end, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Quen</span> had 3 NEW Easter baskets (still had 3 from last year), 15 lbs of candy, 4 new cars, new clothes, an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">octopus</span> sprinkler, 15 pages of stickers, 4672 new plastic eggs, 3 things of bubbles, 4 things of sidewalk chalk, 5 things of play-dough, 2 books, 2 new stuffed animals and 2 wind up toys... I kid you not.</span></div><div><span style="color:#993399;">The same thing happens at Halloween as well -- for which I am <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">truly</span> grateful. I am not poking fun, just remarking on how things have changed.</span></div><div><span style="color:#993399;">We think a lot of it has to do with the fact that he lives so close to his grandparents on both sides -- and we have very generous friends and neighbors who remember him at certain times of the year like his sweet Great Aunt <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Cheryl</span>, neighbors Ms. Jen, Ms. Janet and Ms. Michelle and friends like Ms. Katie. I lived hundreds of miles away from my grandparents -- only getting to see them once a year usually and with the exception of his infant and early childhood years, Corby did not live near his grandparents <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">either</span>.</span></div><div><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#993399;">How times have changed.</span></div><div> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffcc00;"> I can't wait to see what the tooth fairy brings -- a new car?</span></strong></div><div></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXcWMnvW-I/AAAAAAAAB4o/Bn1pxTnDM_I/s1600-h/3282_1145160710429_1269847664_385378_6412960_n.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324904408338619362" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeXcWMnvW-I/AAAAAAAAB4o/Bn1pxTnDM_I/s320/3282_1145160710429_1269847664_385378_6412960_n.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>It's tiring being so cute (and selling so many used cars).</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-80575565121581799242009-04-14T17:51:00.000-07:002009-04-15T06:05:53.643-07:00The FPDG Easter Egg Hunt 2009Last summer I started a play date group that met late on Friday afternoons which I offhandedly called the Friday Play Date Group -- the FPDG (real original, I know). It is a group of old friends and new ones -- working moms and stay at home moms. We occasionally even have a dad or two join us which is always nice. It is a very laid back play date group -- if you can make it come -- if not we will see you next week. I look forward to seeing my friends each week and the interaction with other children is good for all of them. <div> This Easter I decided to have a Easter egg hunt at our usual time. I went a little overboard and what started out in my mind as a little Easter egg hunt innocently involving a couple of baskets and a couple dozen eggs ended up with me assigning people food items to bring and the buying of table cloths, flatware, and golden eggs -- I even wore bunny ears along with Milk Duds and my Mom who looked like a mountain goat rather than a bunny -- but I loved every minute of it. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"></span>WE HAD A BLAST as I feverishly wished away the threatening thunder storms. With the help of my mother, Milk Duds, and Corby as well as a few other dads it went rather smoothly. Almost the whole group was able to make it -- even some grandparents and the kids had a great time and best of all the weather held out. By the end we had only a few meltdowns, almost every one's clothes had chocolate on them somewhere and plenty of tired babies. </div><div> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"> </span>I painted a big plastic yellow egg with the words "Friday Play Date Group Easter Egg Hunt" and it acted as a centerpiece. I just packed it away with the rest of the Easter crap and I fully plan on using it again next year if I am still kicking</div><div>.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324741706981335682" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVIXu1UYoI/AAAAAAAAB34/IDrnW1TMw-o/s320/securedownload-47.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324744309947115474" style="WIDTH: 319px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVKvPouJ9I/AAAAAAAAB4I/E2PmU7fiWX4/s320/securedownload-81.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738951151204722" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVF3UkNuXI/AAAAAAAAB14/oKOEj4KLwIw/s320/securedownload-59.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324740470037052242" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVHPu20e1I/AAAAAAAAB3I/9kUCo3zhjaU/s320/securedownload-50.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324741707251611666" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVIXv1weBI/AAAAAAAAB3w/VX06624o3Aw/s320/securedownload-46.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324740476665779122" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVHQHjO07I/AAAAAAAAB3Y/KokBuwRUa9Q/s320/securedownload-48.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324734946264430914" style="WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVCONMzOUI/AAAAAAAABy4/iqZOBXrY3Q4/s320/securedownload-80.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324740470809230162" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVHPxu6-1I/AAAAAAAAB3Q/rFnRGqfsYB8/s320/securedownload-49.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324740467966301154" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVHPnJHU-I/AAAAAAAAB3A/RLN-g-m1mH0/s320/securedownload-51.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324739663992964882" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVGg0G7xxI/AAAAAAAAB2w/dPRgYWB5610/s320/securedownload-52.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324739659017272818" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVGghkovfI/AAAAAAAAB2g/GXEH9Kkyvxk/s320/securedownload-54.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324739665406898050" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVGg5YCr4I/AAAAAAAAB2o/74IHpT38u3U/s320/securedownload-53.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324735501372142354" style="WIDTH: 252px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVCuhIysxI/AAAAAAAABzo/imO0LDf2Vwg/s320/securedownload-74.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324739659981684178" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVGglKkfdI/AAAAAAAAB2Y/7xXBx1MbInU/s320/securedownload-55.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324739655811453714" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVGgVoT0xI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/Y-_fHFUuSu0/s320/securedownload-56.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738955625930626" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVF3lPEn4I/AAAAAAAAB2I/FowmsKwzp8Y/s320/securedownload-57.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738951744499618" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVF3Wxqr6I/AAAAAAAAB2A/WrNbmEtHpKk/s320/securedownload-58.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738096034275618" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVFFjAc4SI/AAAAAAAAB1g/Cn9xtlk9xWs/s320/securedownload-62.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324734944135070930" style="WIDTH: 319px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVCOFRHxNI/AAAAAAAABzA/PDg7AsIhOpk/s320/securedownload-79.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738091532450818" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVFFSPIfAI/AAAAAAAAB1I/5bUavtTKCaw/s320/securedownload-65.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738948822401218" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVF3L4_AMI/AAAAAAAAB1w/SkiYQCK38Ys/s320/securedownload-60.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738095918467842" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVFFik1ywI/AAAAAAAAB1Y/o6ue-IofRd8/s320/securedownload-63.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324735500031880722" style="WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVCucJP7hI/AAAAAAAABzY/UYXqRjsNBmg/s320/securedownload-76.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738092735284002" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVFFWt6QyI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/aDmcgAWjQ04/s320/securedownload-64.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324736283687390978" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVDcDfSDwI/AAAAAAAAB0I/DN_hgDMI93k/s320/securedownload-69.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324735500960356514" style="WIDTH: 237px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVCufmnWKI/AAAAAAAABzQ/SL_l8xaPhXk/s320/securedownload-77.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324737192347035794" style="WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVEQ8gn6JI/AAAAAAAAB0o/mL4HZEU2uc4/s320/securedownload-73.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738089221153954" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVFFJoE5KI/AAAAAAAAB1A/sNvOsMIaSJ8/s320/securedownload-66.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324737195858180338" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVERJlvuPI/AAAAAAAAB04/WSNqE-Ndqnk/s320/securedownload-67.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324736274792294274" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVDbiWhp4I/AAAAAAAABz4/WWCCPXjIml0/s320/securedownload-71.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324734950883255554" style="WIDTH: 319px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVCOeaA5QI/AAAAAAAABzI/G3bU4kd51LM/s320/securedownload-78.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324736282737560482" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVDb_80y6I/AAAAAAAAB0A/Yy5NoMbHwAM/s320/securedownload-70.jpeg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324736276146396866" style="WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeVDbnZXnsI/AAAAAAAABzw/jmTyZg91RmE/s320/securedownload-72.jpeg" border="0" /></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-68186458235058191092009-04-14T17:43:00.000-07:002009-04-14T17:50:38.943-07:00Hef<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeUvHBNYipI/AAAAAAAAByw/JFMpcfuBrZo/s1600-h/Hugh-Hefner2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SeUvHBNYipI/AAAAAAAAByw/JFMpcfuBrZo/s320/Hugh-Hefner2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324713932065639058" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The other morning Corby brought Quentin downstairs and he was soaking wet. Corby peeled off the clothes and a naked little Quen crawled up and laid out on the bed next to me with only his socks on and his arms resting behind his head -- the picture of relaxation. After Corby had located a fresh diaper he said "Come here Hef" (referring to Hugh). Quentin looked up at him and said "no call me Hef, my name is Quentin Douglas Hilley, no call me Hef". The next day at the FPDG Easter Egg Hunt Quentin announced that he was "Quentin Douglas Hef" -- tell me about it little man.<br /></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-43510499348052009262009-04-08T11:19:00.000-07:002009-04-08T11:55:39.442-07:00Quentin gets CRABbyQuen got his first sandbox and it is a giant crab. He loves it.<br /><br />Corby and I have never done anything with our backyard because we never used it. We do not have a backdoor so the only access to the yard is to go out the front and walk around to the back -- which may seem lazy, but think about it -- would you use your back yard a lot if you had no back door, no deck, no dogs, etc.? Anyway, now that Quentin needs somewhere to play and thanks to the recession we will not be moving anytime soon -- we will be beautifying the back yard and doing stuff for him to have a nice place to play. I am working on the beds and so forth.<br /><br />My elderly neighbor Martha loved irises and she had them all over her back yard. Her house has been vacant for a long time and I asked her son if I could have a few of them -- she has since died and it means more to me now than before, so I have started transporting the irises from one yard to the next so that I can have one bed of "Ms. Martha's Irises" (I want to make a little sign) for it. I transported them -- and they do not look too well so I am hoping they perk up! I hope Martha did not curse them!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzxmVvXsQI/AAAAAAAAByA/lrgrkBc2gcs/s1600-h/untitled.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322394500618236162" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzxmVvXsQI/AAAAAAAAByA/lrgrkBc2gcs/s320/untitled.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzxmpmVQXI/AAAAAAAAByI/pJGloQUWMHI/s1600-h/untitled+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322394505949036914" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzxmpmVQXI/AAAAAAAAByI/pJGloQUWMHI/s320/untitled+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Sdzxmt10kkI/AAAAAAAAByQ/Cs_DjXbcj-o/s1600-h/untitled+3.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322394507087745602" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Sdzxmt10kkI/AAAAAAAAByQ/Cs_DjXbcj-o/s320/untitled+3.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Corby is very skilled with a set a keys -- he is like McGuyver -- he can make anything from them and/or with them.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzxnKxf9xI/AAAAAAAAByY/bmPIJ4ke0nE/s1600-h/untitled+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322394514854246162" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzxnKxf9xI/AAAAAAAAByY/bmPIJ4ke0nE/s320/untitled+4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzxnMWjVOI/AAAAAAAAByg/dCP3dxDec1Y/s1600-h/untitled+5.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322394515278091490" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzxnMWjVOI/AAAAAAAAByg/dCP3dxDec1Y/s320/untitled+5.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Almost fell in:<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzyWY1XZSI/AAAAAAAAByo/4YNuDqrJTls/s1600-h/untitled+6.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322395326082409762" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzyWY1XZSI/AAAAAAAAByo/4YNuDqrJTls/s320/untitled+6.bmp" border="0" /></a>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-45928448192864250172009-04-08T10:24:00.000-07:002009-04-08T11:15:35.984-07:00Quenisms of the weekYou know I love to share the stuff that pours out of my son's mouth which not only tends to amaze me but send me into hysterics... here a just a few of his most recent ones:<br /><br />1. According to Q his "favorite snacks" are "co-cos" and "pow-pows". Now, he is way, way, way past baby talk so this is not the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mere</span> ramblings of an infant. When asked about them all he will say is "<em>co-co is my favorite snack</em>" and "<em>pow-pow is my favorite snack</em>". I have asked him to describe "<em>co-cos</em>" and "<em>pow-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pows</span></em>" and he only remarks "<em>they are like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Scoobie</span> Snacks</em>".... got me?<br /><br />2. After I spent the whole afternoon in the yard replanting irises and bushes and just literally being up to my ears in dirt and sweat (I must have scrubbed my butt for 30 minutes to get the dirt off of my back side from sitting in the dirt in entirely too short shorts) -- I stood in the bathroom peeling off the layers of grubby, dirt and sweat drenched clothes, Q comes in to hug me. He hugs my legs and looks up at me and says: "<em>Momma, you smell like pooh pooh</em>." I said "<em>Thanks honey</em>,<em> I love you too</em>". Then he said "<em>Momma you still smell like pooh-pooh</em>". I just said "<em>thanks</em>". Then later when I was in the tub, he came in and stood on the bathmat -- I asked for kiss, he gave me one and said "<em>Momma you still smell like pooh-pooh</em>", I said "<em>That's enough, that is not very nice</em>".<br /><br />3. He is the King of finding random little pieces of detritus on the floor and questioning you at length about what it is -- if you can even tell. Yesterday he appeared with what looked like a single strand of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">iridescent</span> "Easter grass" -- for an Easter basket. He asked me what it was as he held it up to me. "That is Easter grass", I replied. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Quen</span> shook his head and said "No, it's not, its not Easter grass, it's plastic". You got me kid.<br /><br />4. While in the car on the way to school we were listening to the Sesame Street Podcast on my i-phone through my car speakers -- we love it. The "word of the day" was "mustache" so we discussed mustaches. Then he pops out with "<em>You have a beard</em>". He knows what a beard is because Corby and his best friend Kevin both have beards as well as his Uncle <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Janson</span>. I knew I have been having a bit of a facial hair issue in my old age (thank you Grandmother Minnie Merle -- or Great Mimi) -- but I keep it under control. Now I am a little self-conscious.<br /><br />5. Corby covered my planters in the front yard with beach towels because the last two nights have been dipping into freezing temps. When they left the house to get in the car -- <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Quen</span> saw the beach towels <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">on the</span> bushes and asked Corby about them. Corby explained that he had to cover the bushes so they would not "<em>die</em>". Quentin said "<em>like dying eggs</em>"?<br /><br />6. The other morning as we were about to go into school he ran off and started to climb up this brick wall with holes in it. He said something about "Spiderman" -- I said "<em>Yeah, Spiderman -- come on we need to go into school</em>" and he stopped what he was doing and turned around and said "<em>I'm not Spiderman, I'm Quentin Douglas Hilley</em>." On that same note, my Dad calls him "Quentus Magnus" (a take on his name in Latin) and he has called him this since he was born. Apparently the other day, Q had enough of it and when Pawpoo called him "Quentus Magnus" he said "<em>I'm not Quentus Magnus, I'm Quentin Douglas Hilley</em>"... but he says "Hilley" like "Heeaul-ly".A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-57607187448165174582009-04-08T10:11:00.000-07:002009-04-08T10:24:24.725-07:00Goldfish Containment Unit<div><div align="center">On his way home from school the other day, Q reached into the bag on the seat next to him from my favorite store (all in unison: "The Dollar Tree") and found a plastic egg tray that I planned on using when we died eggs to let the eggs dry. He decided it made a much better containment unit for goldfish. He painstakingly filled each little cup with goldfish crackers (while I was objecting the whole time from the driver's seat) and then complained when we hit a bump and they went flying.</div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzdkoPCdNI/AAAAAAAABxw/hk7W5iDQPr8/s1600-h/2.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322372480990606546" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzdkoPCdNI/AAAAAAAABxw/hk7W5iDQPr8/s320/2.bmp" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzdkpAzl3I/AAAAAAAABx4/DNIZpOv7anQ/s1600-h/untitled+3.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322372481199347570" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdzdkpAzl3I/AAAAAAAABx4/DNIZpOv7anQ/s320/untitled+3.bmp" border="0" /></a></div></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-86026424629934198142009-04-05T17:40:00.000-07:002009-04-06T18:38:21.783-07:00Why Corby and I are OLD CODGERSDo you want to know why Corby and I are old codgers? <div><br /></div><div>Sure, I'll tell you. It all started Friday night. Our old neighbor Martha passed away at the end of last week and we had her visitation to attend Friday evening. After the visitation we had a few drinks with one of our favorite neighbors Avery. After drinks, because Mimi and Pawpoo had Quentin FOR THE NIGHT, we decided to have a little date night (Woot! Woot! We can sleep past 6:00 a.m.!!!!). Corby and I went to eat at Macaroni Grill and then we decided to be the BIG KIDS that we are and go to the 9:20 Monsters vs. Aliens 3D! I was so excited to see a 3D movie. I have not seen a true 3D since I was little and I got to see Jaws 3 -- 3D -- which I will never forget and it was sooo scary to the 5 year old kid that I was (my parents should have been investigated by DSS for that). I will talk more about Jaws 3 -- 3D later, anyway, we were all fired up and we had our 3D glasses on ready to go. Oh, and these are not your typical red and blue plastic lensed paper glasses -- these were like 1985 black plastic Ray Ban looking jobbies (be sure to see Corby below). Anyway, the reason that Corby and I are such old codgers is because we BOTH FELL ASLEEP in the movie. At first I was trying to play it cool... I would nod off and then wake up when something loud happened. I would try so hard to stay awake only to drift off again. I did not want Corby to see me sleeping or I knew I would never hear the end of it. Like the time I fell asleep while I was 7.5 months pregnant sitting on the floor of the kitchen while Corby worked a drill in the same room -- he loves to tell that story. Anyway, little did I know that Cool Breeze was over there sleeping too. I was clued in because at one point he had his head kicked back, mouth agape and even though I am sure he was snoring -- I could not hear it. He woke up and said "I can't keep my eyes open". I did not feel too bad then. We chuckled -- we are sorry dates. Um, I would recommend the movie -- what I saw of it, at least was entertaining.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 243px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Sdqn8EdT_rI/AAAAAAAABxo/Iw1xe-X5KFA/s320/securedownload-44.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321750560122338994" /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Sdqn7e1362I/AAAAAAAABxg/sdr0i9WdMeM/s320/securedownload-45.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321750550024809314" /><br /></div><div>Back to Jaws 3 -- 3-D, yeah I do not know who thought it was a good idea to take me to that when I was kid -- probably my big brother. Anyway, to make matters worse we happened to go to Sea World that summer AFTER I saw the movie, so what would have been a fun trip for any normal 5 year old turned out to be the trip from hell for me -- I was just positive jaws was going to pop out of the water and eat Shamu and/or the handler. It took an act of Congress to get me to walk through the underwater tunnel that allows you to see the sharks and other scary things they have -- you know the one that was so similarly depicted in the movie that the shark bites in half and people get trapped in while water is slowly filling up the tunnels -- yeah that one. I cried the whole time. I remember Sean telling me how thick the walls were and I did not need to be scared. I remember I got to see the water ski show of the Hatfields and the McCoys and I LOVED IT!</div><div>That was the scariest movie when I was kid and looking back now at it... I just laugh. One of my favorite scenes is where the shark (that is not moving a muscle -- just with jaws agape) is slowly heading for the underwater control center -- that no one can seem to get out of in enough time even though they all sit there and yell for 5 minutes -- and the black guy gets eaten by the shark that does not move.... great effects guys! But is scared the crap out of me as a kid!</div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-90220538643517857302009-04-03T08:12:00.001-07:002009-04-03T08:46:18.965-07:00Why I love my husband<div><div><div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>I just love my husband.</strong></span></div><div><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYsOoe-gQI/AAAAAAAABw4/VEzC-ssKU78/s1600-h/untitled5.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320488639681954050" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYsOoe-gQI/AAAAAAAABw4/VEzC-ssKU78/s320/untitled5.bmp" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">He cracks me up.</span></strong><br /></div><div align="center">In a typical man/husband/Corby move he went out for "<em>kitty litter</em>" (it is his chore to scoop and change the litter) and came back with a $100.00 + "<em>automatic kitty litter box</em>". </div><div><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYsPEGM6zI/AAAAAAAABxY/K6I1UKpbuhs/s1600-h/untitled+14.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320488647094233906" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYsPEGM6zI/AAAAAAAABxY/K6I1UKpbuhs/s320/untitled+14.bmp" border="0" /></a><br />I kid you not.<br /></p><div align="center">All because he is sick of changing the kitty litter (he never scoops it like he should and he will be the first to admit that) he buys this thing that I hope the cats will even get in. I am afraid it will scare them to death. He <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bussled</span> around the room trying to find just the right spot, looking for a plug. At one point he had it in the corner that we use as the "time out" spot for Q. When my mom asked him what he was going to do with Q when he had to go to time out, his response was "I'll just put him in the litter box, what do you think about those apples?" He was joking of course and eventually worked out a spot with 50 feet of extension cords -- don't ya just love old houses -- 1 outlet to a room if you are lucky.</div><div><br /></div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320488648330362930" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYsPIs6wDI/AAAAAAAABxI/GTuGkLQ4z08/s320/untitled+6.jpg" border="0" /><br /></p><div align="center">Tater watched with fettered brow from a high (when he was not helping me with the Easter eggs) as Corby put this massive contraption together. Apparently it "senses" when they are in the box and then 4 minutes (i think?) later you hear this "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">hummmmmm</span>" and the little automatic rake is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">sweeping</span> through the crystals -- swiping up the pooh and pee clumps and knocking them into this little enclosed bin at the end. Corby watched in true "proud man mode" with his hands on his hips as the comb set off on its first pooh seeking mission. Tater got in for a little bit and knocked the blue crystals around and then jumped out. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Satch</span> who was oblivious to all of the commotion <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">because</span> he is deaf wandered in hours later, looked at it for about a minute, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">turned</span> tail and left, but I expect him to do that since he did not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">acknowledge</span> the fact that we had a baby for the first week we had Quentin home from the hospital.<br /></div><div align="center"></div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320488642659482034" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYsOzk3-bI/AAAAAAAABxA/QKht2jeLtAQ/s320/untitled11.jpg" border="0" /></p><div><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320488649264235874" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYsPMLkhWI/AAAAAAAABxQ/gtQ0k3DTCc0/s320/untitled+12.bmp" border="0" /><br /></p><div align="center">Now if that cats will use it... it will be great. </div></div></div></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-61158154964809312362009-04-03T07:27:00.000-07:002009-04-03T08:10:31.305-07:008 cups, 5 lbs of candy, 42 Easter eggs, and a 27 lb. white cat<div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6666;">That is what I dealt with last night.</span><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiUFX3CGI/AAAAAAAABuw/cjKsELYoBuE/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320477738219800674" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiUFX3CGI/AAAAAAAABuw/cjKsELYoBuE/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiUWcTeiI/AAAAAAAABvI/5NGaPQUlo5s/s1600-h/untitled+4.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320477742801844770" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiUWcTeiI/AAAAAAAABvI/5NGaPQUlo5s/s320/untitled+4.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYj4NSe6MI/AAAAAAAABwA/7Fr4sb1Dzds/s1600-h/untitled+18.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320479458331650242" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYj4NSe6MI/AAAAAAAABwA/7Fr4sb1Dzds/s320/untitled+18.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#009900;">My Mom was nice enough to help me with all of the Easter stuff I have going right now. I had to stuff eggs for Q's class <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Easter</span> egg hunt and the Easter party that I am planning for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">FPDG</span> (<strong>F</strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">riday</span> <strong>P</strong>lay <strong>D</strong>ate <strong>G</strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">roup</span>, to you novices) along with other "Easter stuff" that you deal with when you have a 2 year old.</span><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjRiyREaI/AAAAAAAABvg/a9tG3aPOYKA/s1600-h/untitled+8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320478794087207330" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjRiyREaI/AAAAAAAABvg/a9tG3aPOYKA/s320/untitled+8.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjRgBojfI/AAAAAAAABvo/OA1ccMk33Rg/s1600-h/untitled+13.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320478793346354674" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjRgBojfI/AAAAAAAABvo/OA1ccMk33Rg/s320/untitled+13.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#3333ff;">I made each child in his class a little plastic Easter cup (actually, I did not make the cup but you get my drift) filled with grass, a hopper, a thing of bubbles in the shape of a carrot, a bendy <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">rabbit</span>, 2 candy <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Easter</span> eggs and pack of life saver <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">gummies</span> with a personalized tag that I stamped and colored in (Mom stamped the names) all while wearing my bunny ears.</span> </div><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiUcByzLI/AAAAAAAABvA/kGWFJUhvBss/s1600-h/untitled+3.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320477744301264050" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiUcByzLI/AAAAAAAABvA/kGWFJUhvBss/s320/untitled+3.bmp" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjRZGFckI/AAAAAAAABvQ/f8Gt4-DmcR8/s1600-h/untitled+5.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320478791485977154" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjRZGFckI/AAAAAAAABvQ/f8Gt4-DmcR8/s320/untitled+5.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiUCr79qI/AAAAAAAABu4/xFyFpIXlw9c/s1600-h/untitled+2.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320477737498703522" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiUCr79qI/AAAAAAAABu4/xFyFpIXlw9c/s320/untitled+2.bmp" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjRciQsXI/AAAAAAAABvY/BPCqhM3TrVM/s1600-h/untitled+7.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320478792409461106" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjRciQsXI/AAAAAAAABvY/BPCqhM3TrVM/s320/untitled+7.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /></p><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6600;">Tater INSISTED on helping. Let me tell you he <strong>helped a lot</strong>. I have the smallest, oldest dining room table (65 bucks at the thrift store when I was in college!) to begin with -- I already had eggs, candy, paper, pencils, stamps, etc. covering every inch when "Tons of Love" decided he would have a seat amidst it all. Most of the time he watched from the Pampers box.</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiT6r_tyI/AAAAAAAABuo/px86eEi_yn8/s1600-h/tater+the+helper.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320477735351465762" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYiT6r_tyI/AAAAAAAABuo/px86eEi_yn8/s320/tater+the+helper.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYj30wjPwI/AAAAAAAABv4/DwxQvZZwyqk/s1600-h/untitled+16.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320479451746877186" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYj30wjPwI/AAAAAAAABv4/DwxQvZZwyqk/s320/untitled+16.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYj4I_Ve3I/AAAAAAAABwI/WU8o7MjPMks/s1600-h/untitled+19.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320479457177598834" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYj4I_Ve3I/AAAAAAAABwI/WU8o7MjPMks/s320/untitled+19.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc33cc;">It was a success. I went ahead and took them to school this morning even though they are not needed until next week just to get them out of the house where "inquiring eyes" might see them....</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjR7OfUdI/AAAAAAAABvw/Dph82gSp5E8/s1600-h/untitled+15.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320478800648032722" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdYjR7OfUdI/AAAAAAAABvw/Dph82gSp5E8/s320/untitled+15.bmp" border="0" /></a></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Please excuse the quality of the photos -- they were taken on my phone!</span></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-66843910331152076452009-04-02T07:26:00.000-07:002009-04-02T10:31:44.388-07:00Celtic Thunder and Why Can't My Sister Take a Good Picture?<div align="center"><span style="color:#33cc00;">Last Friday Mom, Shannon, Bill and I went to see Celtic Thunder -- which I have to admit I really enjoyed! Those guys can really sing and since most of what they sing are traditional <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Celtic</span>/<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Gaelic</span>/Scottish/Irish stuff I really liked it. My favorite part was the fact that the guys in the band donned kilts the whole time and at the end the whole group wore their kilts and that was just too sexy. They are a complete cast of opposites, from a 14 year old who has the deepest voice of all of them, a bald middle aged nice looking man who looks like his usual <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">repertoire</span> includes drinking tunes "down at the pub", a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">blond</span> "boy band"/"high school musical" looking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hottie</span>, a 30 something opera singer and a dark haired <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Lothario</span> who has a bit of a crooked face. I was glad Corby was not there because he would have made fun of the "dance moves" -- or just general stage show that they put on. He never got over "Don <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Dorca</span>" from Lord of the Dance and to this day makes endless fun of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Riverdance</span> guy. Anyway, I will admit this would give him hours upon hours of material. The end result was that it was a well done show, entertaining and once again, I will say the vocals were amazing. My favorites were "Danny Boy", "Ireland", "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Laura</span> and I", and "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Caledonia</span>". I will talk more about the "crowd" later.<br /></div></span><div><div><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#33cc00;">For those of you who do not know them -- here are some pictures.<br /></span></div><p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTOHcq3PMI/AAAAAAAABtQ/T4ZaJ0_jzOs/s1600-h/3076969829_3819b5911e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320103687181778114" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTOHcq3PMI/AAAAAAAABtQ/T4ZaJ0_jzOs/s320/3076969829_3819b5911e.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p align="center"><span style="color:#33ff33;">(that lady is not me -- i just snagged this pic from the net)</span><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTPq2k9bfI/AAAAAAAABto/eU-A4h7_cCc/s1600-h/celtic_wallpaper_2_large.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320105394943389170" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTPq2k9bfI/AAAAAAAABto/eU-A4h7_cCc/s320/celtic_wallpaper_2_large.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></p><div align="center"><span style="color:#33cc00;">Mom got very excited on the way over there as she started singing and doing the hand movements (and if you know my mother, you know she talks with her hands all of the time and you have to keep your guard up to protect from a well-manicured fingernail to the eyeball if she gets carried away) for a song they do called "Ireland"! Here she is in the car doing it.<br /></span><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTOHmXR_9I/AAAAAAAABtg/QqvXNLNk6oQ/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320103689784000466" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTOHmXR_9I/AAAAAAAABtg/QqvXNLNk6oQ/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /></p><div align="center"><span style="color:#33cc00;">We had very good seats that were not cheap -- but we were on the first row of the non-floor seating and we knew that all we needed was a tall person to sit in front of us and/or someone with large hair to sit in front of us and the rest of my wee family (excluding me because I am a "large" woman) would not be able to see. Of course, that is exactly what happened.<br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#33cc00;">This guy was in front of me.<br /></span><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTwfGAogrI/AAAAAAAABtw/nu9y9ax-Tcg/s1600-h/untitled7.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320141476811276978" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTwfGAogrI/AAAAAAAABtw/nu9y9ax-Tcg/s320/untitled7.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#33cc00;">The Celtic Afro was in front of Shannon.<br /></span></p><p align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTwfBTK7KI/AAAAAAAABt4/nEPTooMuh4s/s1600-h/untitled8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320141475546852514" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTwfBTK7KI/AAAAAAAABt4/nEPTooMuh4s/s320/untitled8.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></p><div align="center"><span style="color:#33cc00;">And this guy just had the sweetest comb-forward I have ever seen!<br /></span><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTwfoJjwnI/AAAAAAAABuA/d_12ECuoKUw/s1600-h/untitled+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320141485975519858" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTwfoJjwnI/AAAAAAAABuA/d_12ECuoKUw/s320/untitled+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#33cc00;">Needless to say as soon as the lights went down, we moved back one row and that made a world of difference.<br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#33cc00;">Apparently these guys have a cult like following who call themselves the "Thunderheads" and they wear green t-shirts and anything and everything else green they can find including odd hats. They also sport glow in the dark bracelets and necklaces like the kind you put on your kid when they go trick or treating. They stand up and dance and wave their arms. They are true fans. They are also (and I am not trying to be mean) a bunch of overweight (in some cases extreme -- and I can say this because I too am a large woman) single, odd looking ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and watch PBS specials at home and eat ice cream. That was mean I know. On another note, the man above me in the balcony proceeded to hang his hands over the edge and pick dead skin and/or fingernails off of his hands and drop them on me. I thought I felt a water drop hit my shoulder, but it was a nail bit. I thought I would throw up on the spot. I yelled up at him but he did not see me nor hear me. Later his wife had her feet hanging over the edge... great country comes to town.<br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#33cc00;">This brings me to the second half of my post... my sister Shannon and her inability to take a normal picture. It is BEYOND ME. She has a very pretty face and a nice body (perfect <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">hiney,</span> damn her) but she has a talent like none other... no matter how hard she tries, she just cannot take a good picture. Below are the attempts I made to take a picture of Mom, Bill and Shannon at the show before it started... They are in chronological order.</span></div><div><br />1.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTzx-RpEFI/AAAAAAAABuI/RuHVek-dYHM/s1600-h/untitled4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320145099687530578" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTzx-RpEFI/AAAAAAAABuI/RuHVek-dYHM/s320/untitled4.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><br />2.</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTzxz3yb2I/AAAAAAAABuQ/1joF5Jpihdo/s1600-h/untitled5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320145096894738274" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTzxz3yb2I/AAAAAAAABuQ/1joF5Jpihdo/s320/untitled5.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>3.</div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTzyBfyISI/AAAAAAAABug/_QyV2B1SarI/s1600-h/untitled+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320145100552151330" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTzyBfyISI/AAAAAAAABug/_QyV2B1SarI/s320/untitled+3.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>4.</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTzx70q7AI/AAAAAAAABuY/FfzkKq81E2I/s1600-h/untitled6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320145099029146626" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SdTzx70q7AI/AAAAAAAABuY/FfzkKq81E2I/s320/untitled6.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-43265310439222251772009-04-02T05:59:00.000-07:002009-04-02T06:01:59.964-07:00I WILL UPDATE SOON<div align="center">Sorry readers -- I am a sorry blogger sometimes... I have been swamped lately at work and in life... a ton of birthday parties, Easter stuff, tennis, work is slammed, I am worn out from allergies, and then in the middle of it someone dies... SO I will be back shortly -- PLEASE KEEP READING! </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Amanda the Great</div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-58837170687824121372009-03-25T13:35:00.000-07:002009-03-25T13:57:53.102-07:00SINCLAIR IS IN FOR IT<div align="center"><strong>Just so you know, Milk Duds is in for it and she does not even know it. </strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>She taunted Sieggie today by telling him that she had fish today for lunch and that he better watch his back.</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>He is incensed.</strong></div><div align="center"><strong><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Scqabt3dIfI/AAAAAAAABtI/ZrVB1Z81ER4/s1600-h/angry+siegie+DONKEY.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317232111023628786" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Scqabt3dIfI/AAAAAAAABtI/ZrVB1Z81ER4/s320/angry+siegie+DONKEY.jpg" border="0" /></a></strong></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-2311567911394314222009-03-24T18:19:00.000-07:002009-03-24T18:44:39.903-07:00The Botanical Gardens<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We went to the Botanical Gardens with Mimi, Aunt Shay Shay and Uncle Bill. They were having a Spring Fair type thing where they sold plants and had vendors and events for the kids. Quentin was a holy terror as usual and he wore his "tiger back pack" which made him even more fierce. At one point though he was having a fit, Corby was about to lose it and as I was walking up on the situation this mean little bitty with a giant straw hat and beaky <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">down turned</span> nose looked at me and said "Geese", as she looked over at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Quen</span> and Corby and rolled her eyes and shook her head. I just smiled and kept walking over to my husband and child and when she realized that I was his mother, she quickly scurried away behind some rose bushes (she better run fast or I'll chase her down). I saw this really neat wind chime made from bent silverware that MIRACULOUSLY was given to me the very next day by my father in law for my birthday! My sneaky and sweet husband went and bought it while he was supposed to be going to the "bathroom" and then secreted it to Florence the next day and slipped it into a bag for my father in law to give me. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Quen</span> got to see the band play at the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">amphitheater</span> (which is really cool and I can't believe the zoo does not use more often), he got a monkey tattoo, some popcorn, and he got to jump in a bouncy house where he was thoroughly trounced by the older children. I got lots of ideas of stuff that I can never afford to do -- but would be awesome to do to my yard.<br /></div><div>Here are some pics.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScmJvSOFZZI/AAAAAAAABso/PT6uA5PVdw4/s320/securedownload-43.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316932280525350290" /></div><div>Quentin and Aunt Shay Shay at the ampitheater.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScmJvlPGljI/AAAAAAAABsw/K6Gu6nogJvs/s320/securedownload-42.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316932285629896242" /></div><div><br /></div><div>The wind chime with the green beads is now mine.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScmJv8ShODI/AAAAAAAABs4/V1pzerTA95A/s320/securedownload-41.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316932291818240050" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Q and his back pack.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScmJv3sqfOI/AAAAAAAABtA/VHr_nS0O9oo/s320/securedownload-40.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316932290585722082" /></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-878325960512715982009-03-24T17:58:00.000-07:002009-03-24T18:17:21.873-07:00Mommy's little pillow<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday as my purse sat on the bed it tumbled over and my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE PURPLE OVERNIGHT MAXI-PAD</span></span> fell out on the floor. Quentin immediately ran up to it and before he could ask me what it was because you know it was coming Corby said: "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Oh look, it's Mommy's little pillow</span>"! Quen kind of looked at it funny and said: "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">ooohhhh, Mommy's little pillow</span>" and handed it back.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 236px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScmFheWXVEI/AAAAAAAABsg/Vj0AJXpT0E8/s320/securedownload-39.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316927645216625730" /></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-24231231111660778362009-03-24T17:34:00.000-07:002009-03-24T17:56:05.467-07:00Golf Ball Hole<div style="text-align: center;">Q has a golf set that he never uses appropriately. He would prefer to carry all three of his clubs around -- clutched close to the chest and throw the balls in the bushes which he then refuses to go after because "there are bugs in there". He loves to beat things like the cast iron plants, ant hills, his other clubs, the side of the car and your leg with them -- thank goodness the handles and shafts are encased in foam. The little set contains 3 clubs (a wedge, a putter, and a driver), 2 foam balls, a little green ring that acts as the "hole" and a little flag that goes on the green foam ring and only lasted um, about 2 days after we got the set. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Today we were playing with the golf set while we waited for Corby to get home. He held up the green foam ring and asked me: "What is this mommy, what is it?" My response was: "It is the little green foamy - golf ball hole thingy." He said: "No its not Mommy, no its not." Then he turned to look at me and said very forcefully, "It's a CIRCLE!" kind of like "duh, mom, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">geeze</span>!"<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScmAhQ52TiI/AAAAAAAABsY/u_GIzonHXaA/s320/securedownload-38.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316922144049221154" /></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-69636724332474762582009-03-24T17:17:00.000-07:002009-03-24T17:32:10.465-07:00Fee Fi Fo Samiches, beansnaps and the runny nose<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Tonight Q was in a "giant" kick. He kept saying "Fee </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Fi</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Fo</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Samiches</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> " and talking about giants... I laughed and started saying the classic line of "Fee </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Fi</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Fo</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman" in my best gruff giant voice. He laughed and repeated it and did very well. I have no clue where the "</span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">samiches</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">" came from, but the other day he started singing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little French Fry" -- so who knows.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Because he was in a "giant" mood I decided to read him "Jack and the Beanstalk". He was very excited when I told him about it and he kept repeating "Mommy where is Jake and the </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">beansnap</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">? I wanna see Jake and the </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">beansnap</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">". Finally, we made it through about the first 2 pages to where the book starts to talk about the giant's wife. The book that we were reading had a nice big color illustration of the giant's wife. He was very afraid of her and called her "big lady giant". I told him she was a nice giant at which point he leaned in real close to study her picture and he leaned back and said "lady giant has a runny nose".</span></span></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-25524035337255239872009-03-24T10:59:00.000-07:002009-03-24T11:12:31.511-07:00VAMPIRE KID STRIKES AGAIN!<div><div align="center"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Quen</span> got bitten at school the other day. It happens. This time however, the kid actually drew blood and we had to take him to the pediatrician. Apparently they treat human bites the same as animal bites and therefore he has to go through a round of antibiotics. He does not seem that phased by it -- which is good and he gets <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">excellent</span> care at school so I have a feeling he was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">immediately</span> consoled. </div><br /><div align="center">He is a good boy (sometimes ;p), however I got word that he actually bit another child's finger in the morning -- but it was not bad at all, which is odd because he is not a "biter" (knock on wood). The kid he bit was not the kid who bit him later, but <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Milk</span> Duds feels sure that there was bribery afoot and that the kid who he bit in the morning put a hit out on him -- a hit that the vampire kid took him up on later in the day! Anyway -- he has been bitten a couple of times and it is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">unfortunately</span> something that they all go through one way or another and there is almost always a "biter" in at least one of your child's classes at school. I refer to the biters at "vampire kids".</div><br /><div align="center">The previous attack was on his arm and it left a little red mark for a few days. </div><br /><div align="center">Below are from the latest incident.</div><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Sckhl7a2x2I/AAAAAAAABsI/8BWTtn66X1Y/s1600-h/bite+0023.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316817770576791394" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/Sckhl7a2x2I/AAAAAAAABsI/8BWTtn66X1Y/s320/bite+0023.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">He has a mouth full of antibiotics that for some reason he wanted to "savor the flavor" and not swallow. Yuck.</div><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SckhmCkGSFI/AAAAAAAABsQ/pUuDi1i2UNw/s1600-h/bite+001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316817772494604370" style="WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/SckhmCkGSFI/AAAAAAAABsQ/pUuDi1i2UNw/s320/bite+001.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-81966307831710476782009-03-20T06:15:00.000-07:002009-03-20T06:39:37.657-07:00Bed time books and Grinch socksAs we were reading our books before bed last night Quentin became <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">adamant</span> that the mouse in a picture in his book was a "moose". Our conversation went like this:<br /><br />Q: <em><span style="color:#33cc00;">Whats that Momma? Whats that?</span></em> (pointing)<br /><br />Me: <span style="color:#ff6666;"><em>That is a mouse</em></span>.<br /><br />Q: <em><span style="color:#33cc00;">No its not, no its not</span></em> (shaking his head)! (<a href="http://momdaughterwife.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-its-not.html">see earlier post</a>)<br /><br />Me: <em><span style="color:#ff6666;">Yes it is. It is a mouse -- the whole book is about mice -- it is a mouse.</span></em><br /><br />Q: <em><span style="color:#33cc00;">No its not, its a moose.</span></em><br /><br />Me: <em><span style="color:#ff6666;">A</span><span style="color:#ff6666;"><span style="color:#ff6666;"> </span>moose? No, its is mouse.</span></em><br /><br />Q: <em><span style="color:#33cc00;">No its not (yelling <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">adamantly</span>) its a moose! A moose!</span></em><br /><br />Me: <em><span style="color:#ff6666;">What makes you think this is a moose?</span></em><br /><br />Q: <em><span style="color:#33ff33;">Its a moose. A moose. 'Cause Daddy said it was. Its a moose.</span></em><br /><br />Me: <span style="color:#ff6666;"><em>Its a mouse.</em></span> (At this point I tried to turn the page because I knew I was losing this battle, but he refused to allow me to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">turn</span> the page and instead pointed at the mouse again.)<br /><br />Q: <em><span style="color:#33cc00;">Momma, whats that?</span></em> (pointing at the same <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">controversial</span> mouse)<br /><br />Me: <em><span style="color:#ff6666;">Quentin, it is a mouse, a mouse, a mouse.</span></em><br /><br />Q: <span style="color:#33cc00;"><em>No its not Momma -- its a moose</em>.</span> (He was trying to get me to admit it was indeed a moose.)<br /><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315260379286072898" style="WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOZJ0wN7kI/AAAAAAAABro/joY1N6h4S9Y/s320/untitled+5.bmp" border="0" /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOZKMCmf4I/AAAAAAAABrw/RLQPMTq3PvA/s1600-h/untitled+6.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315260385537195906" style="WIDTH: 209px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOZKMCmf4I/AAAAAAAABrw/RLQPMTq3PvA/s320/untitled+6.bmp" border="0" /></a></p><br />Later he declared that a particular star in his book "was not working".<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315260387834209442" style="WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOZKUmQJKI/AAAAAAAABr4/5nu3sc_CCLs/s320/untitled+7.bmp" border="0" /><br /><br /></p><div align="center">Before he went to bed we had to put on his "anti-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">grinch</span>" socks. These are green (Oscar the Grouch -- <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">shhhh</span>, I am not telling) <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">grinch</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">repellent</span> socks that he wears at night so the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">grinch</span> wont come out of the hole in the neighbor's yard where he lives (<a href="http://momdaughterwife.blogspot.com/2009/03/grinch-lives-in-my-neighbors-yard.html">see earlier post</a>) and get him at night -- as he is convinced that will happen. They are some powerful socks -- he has NEVER ONCE BEEN "GOTTEN" BY THE GRINCH since he started wearing them (I have a back up pair of green Mike <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Wazowski</span> socks that work too).</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOZKk_RwcI/AAAAAAAABsA/jpt5Rhr1GBY/s1600-h/untitled+8.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315260392234140098" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOZKk_RwcI/AAAAAAAABsA/jpt5Rhr1GBY/s320/untitled+8.bmp" border="0" /></a></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781799082648866018.post-23106400819409038332009-03-20T05:58:00.000-07:002009-03-20T07:16:05.762-07:00"Lil Fings" at the park<div align="center">One of Quentin's most commonly used sayings is "Lil Fings" which is supposed to be "Little Things" and it is a catch all word that he uses for any little doo-dad that he is playing with or finds that he does not know the name of. Like any typical little boy -- he is constantly finding stuff on the ground and picking it up much to my dislike -- like the time he picked up dry dog pooh and asked me about those "lil fings" and when I told him to drop them on the spot because they were dog pooh he said "no, its not mommy, no its not!" (see earlier post).</div><br /><div align="center">Anyway, he found a hair pin at the park and it was his "lil fing treasure of the afternoon", however he searched the park the whole time for a new little treasure. One of his favorite "lil fings" is a little articulated, red plastic arm of a skeleton toy he has that he carries everywhere with him. Anyway, he finally started calling it "his arm".</div><br /><div align="center">Here are pictures of the park and his "lil fing".</div><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOV61TjxcI/AAAAAAAABrI/1z59XXCySzs/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315256823201383874" style="WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOV61TjxcI/AAAAAAAABrI/1z59XXCySzs/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOV7feGTKI/AAAAAAAABrQ/a3gO5ruxLnw/s1600-h/untitled+2.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315256834519878818" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOV7feGTKI/AAAAAAAABrQ/a3gO5ruxLnw/s320/untitled+2.bmp" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOV7S77R6I/AAAAAAAABrY/NjHH7ogsDNw/s1600-h/untitled+3.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315256831155324834" style="WIDTH: 251px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOV7S77R6I/AAAAAAAABrY/NjHH7ogsDNw/s320/untitled+3.bmp" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">On the way home in the car he kept popping the sucker out of his mouth and going "ahhhh" as though he had just had a long refreshing swig of some favorite beverage. It was quite funny.</div><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOV7hMQ1HI/AAAAAAAABrg/IHNbOIuazA8/s1600-h/untitled+4.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315256834981942386" style="WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ExPpUTGliMs/ScOV7hMQ1HI/AAAAAAAABrg/IHNbOIuazA8/s320/untitled+4.bmp" border="0" /></a></div>A D Hilleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11158742760490791821noreply@blogger.com0