tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12611650632006177852012-02-10T19:13:56.426-06:00Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.comBlogger3351100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-15019593183456476842012-02-07T01:30:00.008-06:002012-02-07T16:20:08.211-06:00

Once upon a time, Walt built an entire career on one, then he let a bunch of them make Cinderella's ballgown. The Mighty one was a superhero, and the Mexican one was super Speedy. Spielberg brought a little Russian one to America, and E. B. white let his sail a boat in Central Park. There were, apparently, three blind ones, though Bart Simpson's was just Itchy. The one in the nursery rhyme

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-26663289565633092632012-01-19T11:40:00.014-06:002012-01-19T18:01:09.240-06:00

My daughter is an amazing mom - she took care of herself while pregnant, gave birth naturally (as in, intervention-FREE), feeds my granddaughter organically, and at 16 months, is still breastfeeding. She's a great mommy in dozens of other ways as well, (and my son-in-law is a fine baby daddy). My granddaughter is one happy, well-adjusted little girl. Mostly. See, she loves her milk and

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-66414234998217159342012-01-16T23:23:00.003-06:002012-02-07T16:18:08.901-06:00

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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-77739234340778990822012-01-13T16:36:00.020-06:002012-01-20T10:26:50.547-06:00

This is where I live. Sort of. This is my "church office", and I love it. Really love it. This was Kevin's "schoolroom" for grades 5-11. This is where I plan events, coordinate volunteers, design graphics, write blogs, have deep and meaningful conversations with people, and generally do all my planning, organizing and communicating. This I where I got a phone call a few weeks ago when a

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-63964025581353644842012-01-12T23:28:00.000-06:002012-01-22T15:30:01.597-06:00

Hi, and welcome to "What's in my..._____?" (Episode 1 - The One with the Copper Purse.) Why am I blogging this? Because I'm home on a Friday night, the laundry is done, I'm caught up on Words with Friends, I've stared blankly at Facebook for a half hour, and I can't go to bed because I have no hope of dozing off until the cowboy is in stage four of his sleep cycle and has stopped actively

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-55876076235166656462012-01-03T10:44:00.001-06:002012-01-03T10:44:36.076-06:00

In 2012, I am resolved:To stop drinking orange juice after I brush my teeth.To not watch "The Notebook" when I'm home alone.To change all my passwords to something besides '666'.To eat healthier by switching from cream-filled to lemon-filled.To stop SAYING 'LOL' in real-life conversations.To claim the cowboy's horses as "dependents" on our taxes.To post MORE pictures of my feet on Facebook

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-74043323482317731772011-12-31T13:39:00.002-06:002011-12-31T13:41:21.976-06:00

New Year's Eve in Alaska brought 3 things:1. Great food2. Games with good friendsand3. Going downtown at midnight to stand outside in the freezing cold to watch the fireworks! Fireworks on New Year's Eve in Alaska?Yes, because it doesn't get dark in Alaska in the summer, so pyrotechnics on July 4th just don't fly. Well, they may fly, but you can't see 'em!Too bad the guy who built the

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-68099932079997757252011-12-31T00:48:00.006-06:002012-01-03T15:44:31.373-06:00

So my "365 Project" turned out to be way too easy. I got rid of over 500 items in 2011 - none of which I miss - except maybe Kevin. I plan to continue this project for another year...minimalism here I come!187 articles of clothing2 "mother of the bride" outfits12 pairs of shoes4 votives36 votive candles3 styrofoam balls1 old briefcase2 binders1 decorative plate1 bag of silk flowers1 decorative

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-12874965495790094092011-12-19T11:48:00.004-06:002011-12-25T22:53:55.637-06:00

My friend Debbie (who lives in Great Britain) says I should blog about: Chocolate, Love, Sex and Money. So here goes: Chocolate has never disappointed me. EV.ER. The End.(Unless you count the time Mom burned a batch of chocolate pudding and it tasted like ashes and dirt, but that was really more Mom disappointing me than the chocolate). The End Again.My friend Bernie (who lives in

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-19829101574761606622011-12-11T22:42:00.000-06:002011-12-25T22:57:16.046-06:00

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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-89515956848040806932011-12-07T22:20:00.000-06:002011-12-07T22:22:00.499-06:00

She sat on the back row of the bleachers wearing a brown plaid A-line jumper and ribbed white turtleneck, swinging her feet back and forth and wondering why they were HERE on this show today instead of in Kindergarten melting leaves & crayon bits in-between pieces wax paper, or dancing around the room to "Chim Chim Cheree" like they'd done yesterday. "Who is Captain Spaceman anyway?" she

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-69601537019915721862011-12-05T22:45:00.004-06:002012-01-24T15:52:46.028-06:00

Merry Christmas!

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-54711351565622977302011-12-03T15:48:00.005-06:002011-12-03T16:29:33.961-06:00

No Sugar November has come and gone with only a nibble of Mom's Italian Cream Cake, one sweet roll ('cause I forgot), a cookie (because they were baked for me by some new friends when I took them dinner, and I couldn't be rude), and a peppermint mocha in the middle of a 38-hour labor experience. Not perfect, but really not bad, all things considering.December kicks off my switch from mild

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-11045075597332967222011-12-02T13:31:00.004-06:002012-01-09T10:06:24.265-06:00

A little Christmas movie-quotes game! To make this more fun for everybody, PLEASE comment, BUT only answer ONE - doesn't matter which one! (So your comment would look something like this: #12 - White Christmas. No, there is no #12 and as you may have guessed, "White Christmas" is NOT one of the answers.) No googling (on your honor!).Okay, here we go! 1. "Toys are hereby declared illegal,

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-83288885088378270992011-11-28T00:01:00.000-06:002011-11-28T09:51:17.761-06:00

(2 years ago today)I have a new cell phone. I didn't invest much in it, and basically it's just a functional phone I settled for because it seemed on the surface very much like my first one. Problem is, I don't love it. Not that there's anything wrong with it, in all fairness. It's just that I didn't want a new phone. I truly LOVED my first phone. We had the perfect relationship, this

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-32105824952970560762011-11-23T18:55:00.017-06:002012-01-08T17:45:25.746-06:00

We've had a cat named "Puppy". A cow called (Hamburger) "Patty" and her offspring, "Slider". And two calves christened "Norman" and "Mailer". I have a pair of stuffed animal raccoons from high school dubbed "Smokey" and "Bandit". My iPod is named "Soma" after the addictive drug in Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Kevin has named his "Life Support". My daughter received her first Barbie (against

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-20814636613697334822011-11-14T21:07:00.005-06:002011-11-14T23:40:56.941-06:00

I rarely rant. I almost never rave. If I seem taller than usual, it's more likely from my new winter boots than from standing on a soapbox. But...well...I want to say something that's going to make some of you furious and others of you feel justified:Natural childbirth is not possible in an unnatural world.Okay, maybe it's POSSIBLE, but it ain't likely.We live in a culture that fosters

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-29530547302844227272011-11-08T08:34:00.000-06:002011-11-08T08:34:00.839-06:00

She would have been 45 today. Hard to imagine, since she is frozen in time at 28 in my memory. She was wearing a white blouse, jeans and ankle boots and that is often how I think of her. Her baby girl, who was only 4 at the time, is getting married this weekend. Her baby boy, who was only 2 at the time, is getting married next month. Life is quick. Quicker for some. Oh, for a time machine

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-27234438822792734452011-11-05T15:09:00.002-05:002011-11-07T21:50:02.360-06:00

A few years ago there was a comedian who did a bit about work-out programs that urged you to "Consult your doctor before beginning any exercise routine." She quipped, "Does ANYbody DO that? I kind of think my doctor is busy dealing with people who have serious problems. I just don't think I should be calling him saying, "Hiiiii ... this is Ritaaaaa ... I'm thinking of bending at the waist."

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-65635043811445448942011-10-26T22:45:00.004-05:002011-10-27T16:35:54.312-05:00

I LOVE when funny stuff happens to me. It gives me blog fodder. Like the time I locked the keys in Mike's truck with it IN the garage and still running. Or like the time the cow jumped the fence. Or like last week when I lost my car in the parking lot. The sometimes funny, sometimes not so funny thing about the last 18-24 months is that my brain has quit working. Call it hormones. Call it age.

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-35476483978603978872011-10-25T14:55:00.002-05:002012-01-08T20:47:56.741-06:00

Kacey was a newborn - like maybe 3 weeks old - when an acquaintance (sort of a "friend of a friend") called one morning and asked if I could watch her children for the day. Now I’m about as accomodating as they come, but I hardly knew this woman, I had no relationship with her kids (girl 3 and boy 2), but mostly, I just wasn’t up to it. (Hey, don’t judge me! It takes a REALLY LONG TIME to recover

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-69990949610642385062011-10-16T21:26:00.011-05:002012-01-08T20:46:57.186-06:00

The other day I instinctively threw half a cup of coffee away in my office . . . only for it to hit the floor and splatter everywhere because somebody moved my trash can and I had failed to notice.The other day I threw two nylon jerseys in the dryer . . . only 10 hours after my son said, "Whatever you do, Mom, DON'T throw these two jerseys in the dryer."The other day I got a fortune that read, "

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-63804504677166527362011-10-12T13:30:00.004-05:002011-10-12T14:32:21.940-05:00

When our eyes met in the hallway today, we both broke out in ear to ear smiles - only I have all my teeth (so far, knock on wood). We started walking down the hallway to the cafeteria and I was asking him about his fall break and he was telling me about riding his orange bicycle when ....... he reached up and held my hand. We had chicken nuggets and potatoes and, despite my best efforts to

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-81581089060161614762011-10-01T09:47:00.004-05:002011-10-01T11:09:55.499-05:00

. . . or maybe I should call this one "Children of the Corn". See, there are about 200 acres of big open fields, interjected with woods lining my walking place. In the spring it's soft and wet and freshly green. In the fall it encompasses every earthy color in God's creation. It's beautiful. Usually. But SOMEBODY had the audacity to plant corn there very late in the season, and here it is

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-16184683294560099592011-09-29T20:25:00.004-05:002011-09-29T21:29:31.036-05:00

I fell in love a little bit today. He looks like a 7-year-old version of Steve Urkel: skinny little thing, black plastic glasses, missing front teeth, size 6 striped polo tucked into his dark jeans that were rolled up at the ankle. I swear. He loves cheese pizza, dinosaurs, the color yellow, recess and his teacher. He has a pet turtle and his 5-year-old brother is his best friend. This

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-60342265752767449892011-09-18T19:28:00.011-05:002011-09-19T09:21:45.180-05:00

One full month without my son in the house. YES, I miss him. He was my minion (Urban Dictionary definition: "one who is inexperienced, but will perform menial tasks; an evil sidekick or servant." Tell me that doesn't describe him perfectly???) We went to movies together, we split the shopping chores in half (you get food, I'll get toiletries), he helped clean house without even being asked,

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-59655016455399391912011-09-15T22:13:00.003-05:002011-09-15T22:21:53.809-05:00

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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-27016304738243730742011-09-13T11:28:00.002-05:002012-01-08T20:55:45.220-06:00

I have spent a small fortune on hotel rooms this summer . . . BUT, what with all the mini-toiletries, I have saved approximately $1.28 on shampoo and conditioner, so that's something.I stayed up LATE Sunday night. When somebody asked me today what time I went to bed, I responded "2 amish". Haha. Looked like a couple of Mennonite churchgoers, which made me laugh.Along those lines, last month

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-75204079747216193472011-09-09T17:36:00.010-05:002011-09-09T18:14:42.773-05:00

So here's the thing with bad habits: they're BAD.I know, right?So when I made a list of 27 things I need to improve about myself (24 of them being bogus, of course, because how could there POSSIBLY be 27 things wrong with ME?), I didn't really take into account how I was going to prioritize these 27 things over the next 27 months. I mean it SOUNDS good to say I'm going to tackle one thing a month

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-11813713679889453172011-08-26T20:57:00.000-05:002011-08-29T21:12:02.423-05:00

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Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-67842506460403961552011-08-20T16:44:00.011-05:002011-08-20T17:05:49.847-05:00

I've been doing an outSTANDing job of drinking lots of water. Really, quite proud of myself. However, when traveling, as in the 5 hour drive Thursday to take my son to college and the 5 hour drive Friday to return home, the frequent and necessary stops caused by the excessive H2O intake turned the 5-hour drive into a 5:45 drive. At one point, after crossing my legs for so long I could no

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-44560097062768496842011-08-16T13:24:00.010-05:002011-08-16T14:16:26.161-05:00

"That teenager grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was a grown-up man. He left home and got a house across town. But sometimes on dark nights the mother got into her car and drove across town. If all the lights in her son's house were out, she opened his bedroom window, crawled across the floor, and looked up over the side of his bed. If that great big man was really asleep

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-49932101023629169982011-08-10T08:13:00.000-05:002011-08-16T13:22:07.537-05:00

Okay, so last month's "not eating out" challenge went pretty well. Not perfectly, mind you, as friends brought me Chik-fil-A for lunch one day, and since there was the accompanying Polynesian sauce, consumption occurred. There was also an additional lunch date with the lovely Kayla, one of our teenage girls who was my slave-for-a-day and it would have been rude to release my slave and send her

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-86608715440653288002011-08-07T13:19:00.000-05:002011-08-16T13:21:44.350-05:00

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-34018612504806539152011-08-03T09:49:00.002-05:002012-01-04T23:59:54.130-06:00

AS A KID, WERE YOU A LEGO BUILDER?Nah, but I faithfully stacked up the napkin rings on the table after every Thanksgiving dinnerWHAT DO YOU THINK OF "REALITY TV"?RE diculousDO YOU CHEW ON YOUR STRAWS?No, but I chew on pen caps, which is why I'm a fan of "clicky" pens with no capsDO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?Yes, but my sheet music gets wetANY SECRET TALENTS?Word Games. But that’s not really a

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-39016264254282209842011-07-24T21:48:00.010-05:002011-08-10T23:00:19.644-05:00

*I went to Huck's Thursday morning on my way to the office. Coffee, cheese and milk. I checked out, (Well, first I put 17 mini creamers in my coffee because the large dispenser was empty, and I really don't like coffee so much as I like coffee flavored milk.) THEN I checked out. I made chit chat with Debbie the cashier, paid with my debit card, collected my goodies, and went back to the van.

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-58164780456699846282011-07-23T09:00:00.002-05:002011-08-16T13:55:52.717-05:00

Gabriella . . . the name does NOT fit this athletic, talkative, very intense young woman. But her nickname, Gabby, does. :) Gabby called to inform me that she woke up in a puddle. She was 10 days past due date, so her water breaking was great news! No labor yet, so I took my time and arrived to their house a couple of hours later to find she was beginning to have some mild contractions. We went

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-55667861728024522282011-07-20T19:07:00.005-05:002011-07-21T18:41:58.642-05:00

Martha's birth was . . . well . . . SLOW. This, however, was NOT Martha's fault.Martha has a blood disorder that causes her to clot when she shouldn't. So for the last part of her pregnancy she was on blood thinners and bedrest.Because of the meds, laboring at home would not have been the responsible option for her. Also because of the meds, going past her due date would also have not been a

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-23790339882162532202011-07-16T00:48:00.001-05:002011-08-16T13:56:32.228-05:00

(episode 4 is intended to be the finale of the series . . . don't read it first.) After the drama of yesterday's 'Bad Hair Day' we wonder how much more they can take? How much more? As the day begins, Stephanie washes her hair in the sink with the pitcher of tepid water. However, water which seems tepid for brushing one's teeth feels like glacier water to the scalp, giving new meaning to the

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-21124328262451489572011-07-14T18:08:00.002-05:002011-07-14T18:12:21.349-05:00

As we left off last time, the cowboy-turned-plumber had given up the claustrophic chore of crawling beneath the concrete to conquer the catastrophe. "TOMORROW" is now today, and soon all will be well. Or will it?COMMERCIAL BREAK (because now that you are more hooked by our tragedy, we can advertise earlier in the show, knowing you will stay tuned for more.)Stephanie begins her day as usual, up at

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-7894893081160899092011-07-12T19:32:00.006-05:002011-07-12T19:46:28.015-05:00

subtitled: "A water break? Water is for cowards. Water makes you weak." Coach Boone, Remember the Titans(cue Nintendo music from Mario) In our last episode, the water had to be meticulously shut off at the water meter in the ground, where hopefully a mama snapping turtle had not claimed it as her nesting ground as has been the case in a previous year. Using only a T-wrench and a stiff

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-7087662620688356702011-07-10T22:36:00.000-05:002011-08-11T13:46:05.886-05:00

3:00 ET, 2:00 CST On the pilot episode of PipeBusters, we find Stephanie rising early and making her way to the kitchen. She hears a noise. An odd noise. An ominous sound. An ominous hissing sound. (cue hissing noise) She lurks around quietly, trying to discern the location and cause. Snake? If so, Stephanie and her family could be in danger. Grave danger. Freon leak? If so, Stephanie and her

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-74102703086641679952011-06-30T21:26:00.011-05:002011-07-01T08:30:50.082-05:00

I asked Kevin what my worst habit is . . . and he rattled off some nonsense like, "Well, I'd tell you . . . but you'd just tune me out halfway through."So I asked his sister, who stated that I think everybody has a milk allergy. (I do NOT think everybody has a milk allergy. I think SHE has a milk allergy and you probably do too.)Anyway, I feel like I'm always trying to make big permanent changes

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-22842399818918006582011-06-19T21:44:00.001-05:002011-07-14T18:15:15.484-05:00

When I started blogging four years ago, I didn’t think twice about the title. “Who, me?” - mischief and ignorance and identity crisis all rolled into two well-punctuated words.See, I don’t know where I'm going. At 16 that’s not such a problem - so much time and so many opportunities. At 28 it’s time to get serious, but sometimes it takes awhile to “find yourself” and your direction. At 47, well .

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-79714880325198619622011-06-13T21:41:00.004-05:002011-06-14T08:49:56.681-05:00

(the best of kevie-poo)I never thought I would enjoy the boy as much as I enjoyed the girl. I am NOT one of those moms who plays favorites, who chooses to love one more than the other. And though sometimes you can hear me say, "Kevin is my favorite, but I love Kacey more," I could just as easily flip-flop that statement and never realize it. I never wanted a boy. You've heard me say that

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-33380354613434488142011-05-31T21:48:00.007-05:002011-06-13T22:40:27.984-05:00

New 'doula baby' Jenaleigh (Her mom wants to be a doula now, too!) My g-baby, Mayah (almost 9 months)The 'grad' Kevie-poo with his Nana and PapaWild graduation bash!

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-9054752326698219712011-05-07T23:07:00.008-05:002011-07-14T18:26:33.288-05:00

Michael ordered a cookie cake for Sara's birthday last week, which we offered to pick up. So I had Kevin drop me at Sam's to get a few things, while he ran into the mall to get the cookie. While I was in Sam's, I texted him to come on inside when he got back, because he had my debit card, and I would need it. He responded, "on my way now" to which I replied, "no hurry". Please note the manner in

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-48183629690853416422011-05-03T16:29:00.006-05:002011-05-06T11:46:09.496-05:00

I always wanted to build a house. Well not ME, literally with hammer in hand, so to speak (unless they make little cordless electric ones in lime green with tiny turquoise finishing nails). . . but I digress. I wanted to design my own house, and then have it built exactly as I wanted. And I spent countless hours - which in hindsight could have been spent in so many more productive ways - drawing

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-23296975254184124612011-04-30T20:53:00.008-05:002011-08-11T13:55:38.046-05:00

If you are reading my blog because you know me, then you also know we have had over 10 inches of rain here in the last week. If you are reading my blog because you googled the Weather Channel and ran across this post, well, I'm sorry, but now you've already read the first paragraph, so I don't see the need to repeat myself. SO . . . in celebration of the April rain, I have done two things . .

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-40662687066704527672011-04-23T20:37:00.004-05:002011-08-11T13:57:54.913-05:00

I spent 10 hours alone with Eddie van Honda last weekend . . . 10 very QUIET hours alone, as my iPod and Eddie's cd player are both kerplunk for the time being. And since my creativity gene is in "hibernation mode" these days, I had to rely on more prosaic ways to entertain myself. So, I . . . Set my cell phone alarm and repeatedly hit the snooze button every 15 minutes so it would play a

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-27430686093245001492011-04-10T02:00:00.006-05:002011-08-11T14:06:45.240-05:00

Outside my window... it's completely dark, which is one of the loveliest things about living outside of town. On overcast nights, it is pitch black. On clear nights, the stars go on forever. I am thankful... for Sunday afternoon naps. I am going to desperately need one tomorrow. I am wearing... what I always wear when I sleep alone. I seriously hope the New Madrid fault is content to remain

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-67633790345481044842011-04-09T12:27:00.028-05:002011-07-14T18:29:19.128-05:00

Outside my window... everything is a soft spring green. Each time I look outside, I am reminded of the ice storm of 2009 which took my redbuds, my Bradford pear, and my forsythia, leaving my spring yard devoid of color. Everything for a reason . . . I am thankful... for being able to find the humor in life. Even if the humor is, more often than not, seriously sarcastic. I am wearing... vitamin E

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-57388322907998675922011-03-17T09:32:00.022-05:002011-03-17T12:20:49.206-05:00

Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It has been more than 2 weeks since my last blog post.Sunday, WHILE I was teaching the high school Bible class, my phone rang. The teens all gave me this "UUUuuuUUUMMMM, Miss Stephanie, why is YOUR phone ringing in class????" But I knew why, and when I answered the phone and began saying things like "When did your contractions start? How far apart are they

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-6007798313059374422011-03-03T19:05:00.002-06:002011-03-03T19:47:21.176-06:00

As I stood in line with some 37 teens waiting to get into the Winterfest Youth Conference in Gatlinburg, 8 of them formed a small circle around me and started turning in a clockwise direction for no apparent reason . . . other than to prove my theory that everything actually DOES revolve around me. :)During another “standing in line” episode, one of our senior guys dissed me. TWICE. And all

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-49957300378046469862011-02-27T12:48:00.016-06:002011-07-14T18:32:27.136-05:00

Those of you who know me, know I laugh. A lot. Those of you who REALLY know me, know I cry a lot as well. But just because there are tears for circumstances beyond my control doesn't mean I don't know how blessed I am. So today I am recounting some of my current favorite things. I am calling this my "Sweet Sunday Sixteen". Number One is children. And not just any children, but this week it is

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-86801575701170547902011-02-24T22:49:00.013-06:002011-02-25T10:09:52.736-06:00

A few months back, I was grieving the loss of my youth, when my daughter decided I had mourned long enough. "You are going to be a grandmother. Suck it up and get through the stages of grief." She said the next step was anger, then I could move on to acceptance before labor day arrived. I informed her that she had forgotten depression and bargaining, but she said I'd had enough depression already

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-60211132820364623942011-02-17T22:32:00.018-06:002011-02-17T23:23:40.012-06:00

Monday night, both the guys went to bed early. I, however, have been getting ENTIRELY too much beauty sleep lately. So, as I was waiting for my coach to turn back into a pumpkin, I browsed Facebook, read blogs, and watched a rerun of my beloved Alton Brown. As I finished the episode "Don't Be Chicken of Dumplings" I heard one of the boys clomping down the hall. Expecting the cowboy (who generally

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-62158258866186413932011-02-13T09:55:00.002-06:002012-01-29T18:18:50.257-06:00

Last night, I was eating fall-off-the-bone tender ribs marinated in a bbq sauce so hot my lips went numb. In the process, I got sauce on my head. Like, a big blob right between my eyes. Don't ask me how. I was sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the couch with my laptop on my knees, typing an inbox one-fingered and eating my ribs in a very ladylike manner with my pinkies up. So how the sauce made

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-76961188134034482222011-02-12T22:27:00.000-06:002011-02-14T21:26:21.385-06:00

There's nothing to eat.Oh, there's food in the house. The shelves are stocked and the fridge is full, but it's a bizarre hodgepodge of odd ingredients that somehow got left out of their intended recipe - a can of black beans forgotten from chicken nachos, sliced water chestnuts Kevin begged to be left out of the beef stroganoff (because they're crunchy), mushrooms not added to last Sunday's

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-32399514634527051672011-02-07T15:25:00.009-06:002011-02-07T15:38:31.685-06:00

If God wanted me to give blood, He would've put a spout on my neck.At least, that used to be my stance. See, I don't bleed. The very few times I have had blood drawn have been less-than-pleasant experiences entailing multiple phlebotomists, multiple needle insertions and multiple bruises.But a couple of years ago, I decided to put on my big girl panties and get over myself.I am now a blood donor.

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-26671369937541003792011-02-02T01:21:00.019-06:002011-02-15T21:43:27.562-06:00

Things I Hate:Injustice. Litterbugs. Mosquitos. Wintergreen. Comb-overs. Fluorescent lighting. People who have to "one up" your stories. Having only vowels in a Scrabble game. The smell of sardines. The lyrics to "Milkshake". Using "would OF" and "could OF" when you mean "would've" and "could've". Cheese Whiz. Not being able to find my keys. Middle school girls who say "I love you, baby" to their

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-72269505754527870022011-01-28T22:12:00.014-06:002011-01-29T11:39:32.447-06:00

I make blog notes. A LOT. The writer in me used to always carry a notebook in my purse, but now I just text myself or, preferably, use the "notes" application on my iPod. When I recall a cute story, or hear something humorous, or experience an epiphany (as my husband says, "epithany"), I jot them in my electronic journal, so I can share them with you at a later date. Like the following:I always

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-90877329646076782782011-01-27T23:00:00.020-06:002011-02-01T16:37:07.100-06:00

The pursuit to purge my house of 365 unnecessary items has commuted into something akin to Pandora's box . . . I began opening doors and drawers and a plethora of possessions began to find their way back into the world.Two "mother of the bride" outfits from 2008. Why? Because the first one was hideous - great catalog appeal but not so much ACTUAL appeal. However, I was afraid I wouldn't find

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-11097861757885850812011-01-25T05:38:00.003-06:002011-07-14T18:39:12.920-05:00

It's still dark outside. And cold. At least here in Kentucky where two people I dearly love are boarding a small plane as this blog goes to post. Destination: Chicago . . . D.C. . . Rome . . . Ethiopia. They have checked four LARGE duffle bags, three of which are filled with donation items like diapers, baby wipes, soy formula, bottles and toys for an orphanage in Addis Ababa.An orphanage where

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-15778358325611386382011-01-22T00:02:00.011-06:002011-01-22T00:38:23.432-06:00

For the last 14 years, a print entitled, "End of the Alley" has hung in my house. I fell in love with this picture, I think because it reminds me of a print my mom had when I was growing up. Whatever the reason, I spent my birthday money on it back in the late 90's and hung it where it would get the most viewing: the wall behind the toilet. Day 20 of this year's quest to get rid of one item a day

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-80835547226710560992011-01-19T00:46:00.000-06:002011-01-26T15:54:02.843-06:00

Who has time to blog? Not me! I am having WAY too much fun designing blog headers . . .

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-40024784446359513932011-01-18T12:47:00.014-06:002011-01-18T15:13:19.055-06:00

My baby boy is a man. Somewhere between giving birth to him on the bedroom floor in 1993 and sending him off to school this morning with a laptop, a guitar, a case of M&M’s and his car keys, he grew up.And can I just say . . . I HATE IT.It was different with his sister. She was my first. It was critical to my maternal self-worth that she become independent early. Like somehow my "mom-value"

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-1856917980167994692011-01-10T22:59:00.026-06:002011-01-11T19:35:35.155-06:00

Every one, it's assumed, likes Christmas a lotBut Steph, who felt scroogey, most certainly did not.Oh, she loved all the sharing and wee balls of rumAnd songs about drummers who rum-pa-pum-pum,But she hated the shopping and wrapping and glitterAnd taking the tree down alone made her bitterIt could be perhaps that her socks were too pinchyOr the stuff in the utility room made her grinchy.But

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-12593071090935289132011-01-06T01:52:00.008-06:002011-01-07T11:57:02.286-06:00

After unwinding the glittery amber fishnet ribbon off the Christmas tree earlier this week, the ribbon that sparkled in the glow of the white holiday lights . . . I have to agree with Dimitri Martin. Glitter IS the Herpes of craft supplies. It has spread all over this house, and no matter how hard I try, I can't get rid of it.Speaking of sparkly things, ever noticed how ebay sellers always

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-67460849261779472042011-01-04T20:27:00.000-06:002011-01-06T01:50:37.541-06:00

If a home is where your heart is, then a house is where your stuff is. And all my stuff is neatly organized within 1630 square feet of house. (With the exception of socks. I just don't see the point in neatly organizing socks. I roll pairs together and throw them in a drawer - minus the 8 pairs in the floor on my side of the bed, but that's a different blog altogether.)When I first started

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-32206978421736167672011-01-03T23:21:00.002-06:002011-01-07T19:32:58.728-06:00

My maiden name being "Morrow", my granddaddy used to quote this King James verse from Matthew 6 as a way to playfully tell my boyfriend to stop thinking about me so much: "Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." And though it became a running joke with the three of us, I don't think he quite hit at the heart of the meaning: "I tell

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-18224017469203280422011-01-02T20:28:00.006-06:002011-01-07T19:32:45.384-06:00

A couple of years ago as I was walking gracefully through a parking lot, I stepped on the hem of my apparently-too-long pants, tripped and fell flat on my hands and knees. Hard. I rolled over and sat there, nearly in tears, rubbing my skinned palms and wondering how in the world I could manage to bloody both knees and not even rip my pants, when Mike reached his hand down to help me up. "Aren't

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-45656405635117043702011-01-01T17:59:00.005-06:002011-01-01T18:58:23.160-06:00

Instead of a resolution for 2011, I've decided to claim Matthew 6 as my chapter for the year. Why? Because I think it encompasses most of my spiritual strengths. And, as many of us know, our greatest strengths are almost always our greatest weaknesses as well. I'm starting today with the part that reads, "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." I already know where my

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-44175172959346666972010-12-26T02:28:00.000-06:002011-02-16T00:00:04.952-06:00

1. Name a movie that you have seen more than 5 times.You've Got MailMonty Python and the Holy GrailThe Lion KingShawshank RedemptionToy StoryJurassic ParkThe Sound of MusicMen in Black HitchJawsPsychoRear Window2. Name a movie that you’ve seen multiple times in the theater.(3 times each)The Lion KingChicagoRed3. Name an actor/actress that would make you more inclined to see a movie.Tommy Lee

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-26354795754938709772010-12-19T21:50:00.016-06:002010-12-30T10:07:47.756-06:00

She was two, and OH SO cute. She had definitely NOT earned the "terrible" nickname that particular age brings to so many toddlers. She was good-natured and imaginative and verbal.But on this particular day, she was quiet. Really quiet. And at first you, as a parent, don't notice 'quiet'. It's peaceful. That's why they call it "peace and quiet". But then suddenly 'quiet' screams at you like an

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-92087841424909744432010-12-17T08:11:00.006-06:002010-12-17T08:23:42.104-06:00

Walking uphill, alone on a cracked sidewalk, I was just past the outskirts of an old town. Walking toward me in the street was a guy I recognized, I think from high school. He still looked the same as when I knew him, but as we got closer it was apparent he was drunk, and had an empty brown bottle in his hand. He smiled and I smiled back. After he had passed by, I looked over my shoulder. He had

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-67296555781054215142010-12-14T14:16:00.007-06:002010-12-14T14:34:06.873-06:00

"Nursing on Peppermint Sticks"I did not feed my children sugar until they were 2. Even then, they were more likely to get it from other sources than from me. My theory: why give it to them when they don't even know what they're missing? Anyway, the Christmas when Kevin was 11 months old, Kacey (7) wanted to decorate the tree with a whole red and white candy-cane motif. We hung shrink-wrapped

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-76914007442136371452010-12-07T16:34:00.012-06:002011-07-14T23:25:02.135-05:00

1. Favorite Holiday Memory - Kevin licking the candy canes off the Chritmas tree when he was barely old enough to stand up.2. Favorite Holiday Song - “O Holy Night” - 'Fall on your knees' gives me cold chills every single time I hear it. Although Harry Connick Jr.’s “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” works for me too. :o) (**I also highly enjoy my Charlie Brown Christmas cd that Kacey bought me, and

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-71141181203716963022010-12-01T19:17:00.016-06:002010-12-02T23:21:27.088-06:00

1. A tiny little boy is separated from his family.2. When his mother finds him, he is thousands of miles from her.3. His 5-year-old sister saves her coins, one at a time, to help save her little brother.4. Legal red tape keeps them apart for months upon months.5. His parents scrimp and save and pray every day for their son who, halfway around the world, doesn't even know they miss him.6. After a

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-39692625554802011962010-11-30T15:00:00.003-06:002010-12-01T17:37:29.911-06:00

Harry: There are two kinds of people: high maintenance and low maintenance. Sally: Which one am I? Harry: You're the worst kind; you're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.Sally: I don't see that. Harry: You don't see that? "Waiter, I'll begin with a house salad, but I don't want the regular dressing. I'll have the balsamic vinegar and oil, but on the side. And then the salmon

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-9633900541931183872010-11-21T21:55:00.009-06:002010-11-22T14:47:26.015-06:00

My 17-year-old son has decided to take "No Shave November" literally. Fine. I don't really care, after all, it IS HIS face. If he wants to walk around for a month looking like a germinating Chia Pet, so be it. And while his beard is not entirely wimpy, he IS a Ginger*, so the stubble he has accrued to this point isn't really visible unless you are invading his personal space. The other night, one

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-1063708790735237222010-11-17T05:38:00.006-06:002011-07-14T18:52:40.150-05:00

Monday was "National Clean Out Your Refrigerator" day. Seriously. I don't make this stuff up. And I fully intended to celebrate the holiday in style with red glitter and possibly a Jell-0 salad, and I had planned to wear an old t-shirt from my breastfeeding days that reads, "Got Milk? I do!". But I got distracted by a Jim Gaffigan special on Netflix, getting my tush kicked by Jessica in an iPod

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-23667350347947370632010-11-13T21:55:00.004-06:002010-12-01T14:09:49.525-06:00

She is 9 weeks old and as beautiful as her mom. She has changed and grown so much since last month! The best thing is now she smiles at everything and even giggles a bit. I LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-37903365613401189322010-11-13T06:36:00.001-06:002011-07-14T18:53:26.317-05:00

Friday I was awakened by the cowboy's alarm clock at 4:15 a.m. (because he has four new calves to feed), so yesterday doesn't count. Today I am in Indy with the kids, sleeping on the futon. I woke up, checked my ipod (which was still on, because I fell asleep while watching "Arrested Development" on Netflix), and . . . 5:38. We are, of course, on Eastern Time.

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-4538499540780341362010-11-10T21:42:00.005-06:002010-11-10T22:12:13.541-06:00

This is not really a blog, so much as it is making note of something. 5:38 a.m.I have been waking every morning for a couple of weeks now at 5:38 a.m. No alarms, no reason, just waking and glancing at my cell phone to see the time. Sometimes I go back to sleep, sometimes not.I don't always look to see the time, but when I do, for the last few weeks, it's always 5:38. I haven't checked since last

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-30711180214301127312010-11-05T14:47:00.004-05:002010-11-05T15:04:57.000-05:00

I love my new little minivan. Mostly. See, I've had this Honda Odyssey for ten weeks now, two-and-a-half months, seventy days, and I CANNOT GET USED TO THE STUPID BUTTONS!!! Everything is backwards. Granted, I've been driving Ford products for the last two decades, but sheesh! The gear shift is on the dashboard, not on the right side of the steering column, so every time I try to put it in

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-72855135429591672922010-11-03T16:44:00.014-05:002010-11-03T17:37:01.677-05:00

If you're over the age of 24, you probably remember the "cow toy" or maybe even the "pig toy". Back in the late 80's you could see these toys displayed on tables in front of certain mall stores like Kirklands or KB Toys. These animals would waddle a couple of steps, make their appropriate animal noise and wag their tail or wiggle their nose or some such cuteness. We were lucky enough to own both

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-33412745501424759452010-10-29T14:40:00.035-05:002011-07-14T18:55:52.145-05:00

We used to have this little, gray two-and-a-half person tent. We might still have it. Somewhere. The point is, we used to sleep in it. No, the point is, we used to lie down in it and wish we could sleep. The other point is, it reminded me of the following:To pee or not to peeThat is the question. Many, many moons ago I tagged along on an overnight retreat to this island in the middle of the lake,

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-45275636607260855782010-10-23T11:11:00.006-05:002010-11-05T11:22:27.959-05:00

As I sat in the Tennessee Miller Coliseum this weekend, about as interested in the Saddle Boy Competition as a toddler is in church, I learned that I was the only person in the 3,000-seat arena playing Sudoku on an iPod instead of watching the events. I also learned THIS . . .Fifteen Reasons I Can Never Be a Cowgirl:1. I do not have a cowboy, or in my case, a cowgirl hat.2. I do not wear boots,

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-80897288825616764082010-10-18T20:06:00.018-05:002010-10-18T21:56:54.027-05:00

I do NOT love horror movies. I do not care to watch throats slit or axes through the chest or decapitated heads rolling around or bowels spilling out onto the ground. But, when I was in high school, well, let's just say that Freddie and Jason and Michael Myers (the one who chased Jamie Lee Curtis, not the one that says "Groovy, baby" with a British accent) were must-see-horror-viewing.

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-50834731698525431182010-10-16T12:28:00.005-05:002011-02-16T00:05:04.429-06:00

I keep running out of blog ideas. Yesterday I googled "Fun Things to Blog" and got page after page about how to do product reviews and interviews and political rants and household tips and all I could think was "WHO WANTS TO READ ABOUT THAT???" Actually, I guess a lot of people do, but they aren't the people reading my blog. Of course, if I blogged about those things, maybe they WOULD be the

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-52529355797698131492010-10-14T16:12:00.009-05:002010-10-15T12:02:06.884-05:00

I am completely in love with youyou have stolen this heart of minewith your cute little dent and your sweet facewith your precious toeswith the noises you make when I kiss youwith the way you smellI want to bury my face in your neck and breathe you in and I would be perfectly happyif I could just hold you forever

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-30381752415703534902010-10-06T17:43:00.008-05:002010-10-07T22:29:46.625-05:00

I have always been a moderately-picky mom when it comes to movie "appropriateness" (LOOK IT UP. It's Scrabble-acceptable.) Just because a movie is rated "PG" does NOT mean I would allow it, nor does an "R" rating mean it is automatically banned. I am much more apt to allow violence than I am sex, more apt to allow language if it is in context and not superfluous. Anyway . . . I was telling my

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-38399890238629774022010-09-30T19:55:00.019-05:002011-02-16T00:10:17.070-06:00

not to mention the $13.24 I made from advertisingThe best part of blogging? Having a journal of my life. Oh, that's so not true. The best part of blogging is when you people tell me I'm funny. It's good for my ego. But the journal thing comes in at a not-too-distant second. Why does she always push me to be a better person?Last month, when the girls made the 5-hour drive to Indy with me, we did a

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-22683428059332662722010-09-26T20:50:00.021-05:002012-01-05T00:02:36.461-06:00

I have two superpowers: the ability to almost always know, without looking at a clock, what time it is, and the ability to remember trivia, specifically from the 60's, 70's and 80's.The first superpower can be quite useful, at least personally. For other people, not so much . . . mostly because of a lack of trust. "Do you know what time it is?" they ask. "Yep. About 4:20!" is my response. They

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-80949839303260971672010-09-24T23:55:00.001-05:002010-09-26T09:17:53.199-05:00

She was completely in denial from the beginning. Contractions had been 8 minutes apart for a good four hours, she had cleaned the bedroom, taken a shower, asked Nathan to vacuum, had me lay out the birth supplies and still she kept saying she wasn't in labor. I finally convinced her, mid-afternoon, to let me give the midwife a "warning call". She reluctantly agreed, still fearing this was a false

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-37984279697403347612010-09-16T21:01:00.017-05:002010-09-17T07:39:45.080-05:00

Last week I had the combined privilege of going through 14 hours of labor with my daughter, experiencing my third homebirth as a doula, and witnessing my grandchild take her first breath.Only a few minutes after my granddaughter made her amphibious move from water to land, we had our picture taken together. I immediately uploaded it and posted it on my blog and on facebook, even before the

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-17763659860892986672010-09-11T14:43:00.011-05:002010-09-14T14:02:52.508-05:00

Yes, I will blog about the birth once Kacey has had a chance to tell the story herself. After all, it is her story to tell. Besides, I am WAY too busy being the mother of the mother and enjoying my daughter's new daughter to have time to write this week. I spent 10 days here in Indianapolis before the baby was born. We cleaned house, we stocked up on groceries, we cooked several meals and froze

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-45361072633875847852010-09-07T01:43:00.008-05:002010-09-10T16:22:10.676-05:00

It has been a long day. My daughter is one amazing chick. My son-in-law is precious. And my, uh, daughter's beautiful daughter was born at 1:51 a.m. (Eastern time) on September 7. She weighs 8#12 ounces (so did her mom) and was 20" long (so was her mom) and has a head full of dark hair (so did her mom). She also has an adorable little dimple in her chin (so does her dad).Her name is Mayah Taylor.

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1261165063200617785.post-54922292278208444472010-09-05T21:59:00.002-05:002010-09-05T22:11:10.865-05:00

Why is it when we name a couple together, we usually say his name first then hers ? Paul and Nancy, Philip and Sara, Glen and Vicki . . . BUT when we name them as parents or grandparents, HER name always comes first? Mom and Dad, Nana and Papa, Aunt and Uncle, Grandma and Grandpa? This perplexes me. Nathan & Kacey's puppies lay in the floor and lick each other's tongues. For a long time.

Stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13451243405370725838noreply@blogger.com3