tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37925015279570601142024-03-05T04:55:48.884-08:00On the Banks of the PecosMaking the move from Alaska to the Southwest.Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-88669062336224700002011-04-19T16:51:00.000-07:002011-04-20T09:57:47.632-07:00Backyard Chickens Phase I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF93Iya3bVFmFk2Z5Y2UwMELanRvHKVnkua0gIytpOUJ-zHfrXead0o-KXmkuvUJsP5z2qeQTsLj-nIxmmQr82RrBldy9VGmzeTJPqIwg19ANgOBd5ycy7opXcPMwJAkXiuAIHC8fMPc2Q/s1600/DSC_0348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF93Iya3bVFmFk2Z5Y2UwMELanRvHKVnkua0gIytpOUJ-zHfrXead0o-KXmkuvUJsP5z2qeQTsLj-nIxmmQr82RrBldy9VGmzeTJPqIwg19ANgOBd5ycy7opXcPMwJAkXiuAIHC8fMPc2Q/s320/DSC_0348.jpg" width="213" /></a>I must say that there is not much else that is more adorable than a baby chicken. I bought two Leghorn chicks over spring break at the local feed store. They cost me two dollars each. I was told that these will be good egg layers, which is all we want since the kids have protested the raising of chickens for consumption. Leghorns will lay white eggs--I wanted brown eggs so I held off on buying all four at once because I was told the Bantam chicks (they lay brown eggs) would be in the following week.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-qFgaZ9pPshSCIkVPXYVDgQAKp5WMdXBeLVEWrkbqoXMgzVQ6neEkPOiUM6JsuqvGHfLJLSWT7nkIb_VqeHoj4AEUknCbo44uISMR2P1OP0LYxDevaSD7Z4l2-26se2m9ZfymBCF_WZd/s1600/DSC_0305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-qFgaZ9pPshSCIkVPXYVDgQAKp5WMdXBeLVEWrkbqoXMgzVQ6neEkPOiUM6JsuqvGHfLJLSWT7nkIb_VqeHoj4AEUknCbo44uISMR2P1OP0LYxDevaSD7Z4l2-26se2m9ZfymBCF_WZd/s640/DSC_0305.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Having tile has been a bonus concerning the handling of these chicks--they poop a lot, and the tile is easy to clean. I let the kids exercise them every night so that the chicks will get used to being handled.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1bhFsaEGJNkksO622g86S5xvJr1rKGHiG-MsTNQV4CMWHy9yjokpn_o3wSJXvcwxhstTxKH5E9nj-2EKYLbwdEQXu0GMIc6PNJSSo6fEWrjn3tCRHSXlGjqXxYDveOFWn47hhA3DEqbAd/s1600/DSC_0354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1bhFsaEGJNkksO622g86S5xvJr1rKGHiG-MsTNQV4CMWHy9yjokpn_o3wSJXvcwxhstTxKH5E9nj-2EKYLbwdEQXu0GMIc6PNJSSo6fEWrjn3tCRHSXlGjqXxYDveOFWn47hhA3DEqbAd/s640/DSC_0354.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I've heard that some dogs and chickens get along, but I think my dogs want to eat them. I try to keep them separated. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtPBHRdZmd_lk9f-M3s3Me8EzjJehyphenhyphen_HoyBPfgJsxcTVWc6Xtu8QZh5O9aBeDrqrc37i40cL5ORKjh8dwymMGKiBARYZRpquB5h2GEgPuNIRwqUoQXxn9ukHssOfHtUGbWyKGkq-V4f_i/s1600/DSC_0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtPBHRdZmd_lk9f-M3s3Me8EzjJehyphenhyphen_HoyBPfgJsxcTVWc6Xtu8QZh5O9aBeDrqrc37i40cL5ORKjh8dwymMGKiBARYZRpquB5h2GEgPuNIRwqUoQXxn9ukHssOfHtUGbWyKGkq-V4f_i/s640/DSC_0338.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Setting up a brooder wasn't difficult. I used a plastic storage bin, lined with newspaper, and inside I placed food, water, and a heat lamp over the top. The wire screening keeps the chickens from flying out, and deters the dogs from being able to eat them. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Having the chicks inside has created more dust around the house, but overall, it's been a simple process.<br />
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Except for the time when the power went out late one night and they lost their heat lamp and cheeped loudly into the dark. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We almost had chicken nuggets that evening.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OTuVPnoLgXmgtXLPm3JJroy2RzUWdKrihAtn6KwTt9JBFGpFUljVc3eHBzUWby9Q6zvkD70XjZdfTCQ-B-Oth8HRRWTlVUAQFfo3AqRGSv_0IMMfEJsL4wT44fVZGPtboU_LSNFF2cGE/s1600/DSC_0308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OTuVPnoLgXmgtXLPm3JJroy2RzUWdKrihAtn6KwTt9JBFGpFUljVc3eHBzUWby9Q6zvkD70XjZdfTCQ-B-Oth8HRRWTlVUAQFfo3AqRGSv_0IMMfEJsL4wT44fVZGPtboU_LSNFF2cGE/s640/DSC_0308.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The coop has posed a bit more of a challenge. I would love to be able to share cost of materials and supplies, but I used mostly scraps. I followed the coop plans fairly close. I made the cuts using a miter saw, circular saw, and table saw (I had to rip a few 2x6s in half because I ran out of 2X4s). I used a framing nailer to attach the joints. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQbMR4e4EOodnfDXaGEy_OjltuXjyx5cVfqPHEw3jSuPkE6FMrzRnOAqKRNGMSODURVeS450_OnAnCwdr5_WyapZckbWMvMoOF57NoNAQ8kFwnw_4WQWr8Fr0wWez46XLFDj8mUh1KuLj/s1600/DSC_0309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQbMR4e4EOodnfDXaGEy_OjltuXjyx5cVfqPHEw3jSuPkE6FMrzRnOAqKRNGMSODURVeS450_OnAnCwdr5_WyapZckbWMvMoOF57NoNAQ8kFwnw_4WQWr8Fr0wWez46XLFDj8mUh1KuLj/s640/DSC_0309.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The roosts were not mentioned in the plans, but I added them because apparently chickens like to sleep up off the ground.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJiMgCOjYyPBobmZaXuy2MMK-4oLVIFoRIzDOOZwdG-Bt-5TWPFtR5aVSI7g659Q8rnRqH9K7TTwWd0x5025Y8cS5AEM39l7LTyRGw6XpuEHoiQ12IsQxt3AJoYg5cBKjSA-KYwdW_IhS/s1600/DSC_0310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJiMgCOjYyPBobmZaXuy2MMK-4oLVIFoRIzDOOZwdG-Bt-5TWPFtR5aVSI7g659Q8rnRqH9K7TTwWd0x5025Y8cS5AEM39l7LTyRGw6XpuEHoiQ12IsQxt3AJoYg5cBKjSA-KYwdW_IhS/s640/DSC_0310.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">There is a side door for cleaning, and a door in the front for the chickens to access the run.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BGi26MyuKNIJ3RCucu4fx3yHylA37I6qmxcTJAmp2ow3hsH8uEkFQ0vaU4BceIfTA2xS8Hy6NZSIp7eslO699JMmSO582532cJ-gDTjs0NPN9wBLlehfk4eU8ukRnRh6bN1u2Y2FoGmr/s1600/DSC_0320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BGi26MyuKNIJ3RCucu4fx3yHylA37I6qmxcTJAmp2ow3hsH8uEkFQ0vaU4BceIfTA2xS8Hy6NZSIp7eslO699JMmSO582532cJ-gDTjs0NPN9wBLlehfk4eU8ukRnRh6bN1u2Y2FoGmr/s640/DSC_0320.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After much time spent cursing at the heat, the weight of the power tools (why do they have to be so heavy?), and the project in general (remind me why I decided to get chickens again?), I decided to employ the help of my free manual laborers. Don't they look happy?<br />
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*Yes, that's my fiancée in the background, under the shade tree, with a cold drink in hand.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCdtdrjU4Rd_xTg0IbTV6IrkV04BTnHq_-2zaexLSX1J5zxasx8IwZ3Jz7MuGrF0QGhx0YUfwkTHagTdPHWkrJ1d8TywPnPqIvtwAzIvkd0ml375hE3LdsuGKxBjly7YcD5a286kNL86bO/s1600/DSC_0330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCdtdrjU4Rd_xTg0IbTV6IrkV04BTnHq_-2zaexLSX1J5zxasx8IwZ3Jz7MuGrF0QGhx0YUfwkTHagTdPHWkrJ1d8TywPnPqIvtwAzIvkd0ml375hE3LdsuGKxBjly7YcD5a286kNL86bO/s640/DSC_0330.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I was pleased with the end results.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxME-vBIuRrPHFxQO_02W0ySvPNZ-6p95XcpqiHM0F0YSzueTci9ZbYaLrVUjDbcdL7OY6BmMh89m77X1B-AptB20mWF2SUEc-4LSs9yQZPQaP2ZnxGTNoCqWkoTX5fX6e2d6Ii9Ny3f9V/s1600/DSC_0329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxME-vBIuRrPHFxQO_02W0ySvPNZ-6p95XcpqiHM0F0YSzueTci9ZbYaLrVUjDbcdL7OY6BmMh89m77X1B-AptB20mWF2SUEc-4LSs9yQZPQaP2ZnxGTNoCqWkoTX5fX6e2d6Ii9Ny3f9V/s640/DSC_0329.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">All that I have left to do is to attach the chicken wire.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlVHUs0JKTP09snJKYFK6fJDhXekYJZOIMoozO096TVjcBPWw2FvFNL2Ie5u_BKS8EBgIEmYh4aZiTsdHUHWamoPHlQFz7eNjxZW6fkUtNvnGuuiGw_6MZdsVn3KpbiEnNcTqLc6q-NYz/s1600/DSC_0332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlVHUs0JKTP09snJKYFK6fJDhXekYJZOIMoozO096TVjcBPWw2FvFNL2Ie5u_BKS8EBgIEmYh4aZiTsdHUHWamoPHlQFz7eNjxZW6fkUtNvnGuuiGw_6MZdsVn3KpbiEnNcTqLc6q-NYz/s640/DSC_0332.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And wait for our chicks to grow up and start laying eggs. We will gather them here.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-pJqdSMZPmylAQQkjtYRBFxdEfjdTh6fLCIzmmr129MA_C32xT-8RiL_k_x1WiR7ESB3BihKbNx8JBh4H4Fhbg5qmACkt7w8RPNbXk4BxaVVmGOcqLhsADA9z_1fY9WGIyODwow4CRFNS/s1600/DSC_0324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-pJqdSMZPmylAQQkjtYRBFxdEfjdTh6fLCIzmmr129MA_C32xT-8RiL_k_x1WiR7ESB3BihKbNx8JBh4H4Fhbg5qmACkt7w8RPNbXk4BxaVVmGOcqLhsADA9z_1fY9WGIyODwow4CRFNS/s640/DSC_0324.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I have started placing the chicks outside in this dog crate so they can practice scratching in the grass and getting accustomed to the outdoors. They will be ready for their coop when they are 60 days old.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedKYwVgCxWWEQl8z8H-O3rBRp4LrOd5ymmnnKq8jFarszyx0pUmXoRxQFKkYwcn5gVRczdBO5vtt5hWhBz6BoWAFbgjk8OmUDALDbNEaw3GMUScy7laZMOvR0NXAuM6GnA_PTHtj99Xb8/s1600/DSC_0315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedKYwVgCxWWEQl8z8H-O3rBRp4LrOd5ymmnnKq8jFarszyx0pUmXoRxQFKkYwcn5gVRczdBO5vtt5hWhBz6BoWAFbgjk8OmUDALDbNEaw3GMUScy7laZMOvR0NXAuM6GnA_PTHtj99Xb8/s640/DSC_0315.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Warning: In some odd cases, having chickens has made people want to act and dress up like them. (I think his sister was behind this.) I'm not sure what those things are on the top of his head--horns? Devil chicken? Definitely his sister's doing.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyi7x5Qnjdd6ViATZqrr8nUUZfllLBXmETDnED0toZU020txJBhR_Z1br1ZTCNiMnT5Wt3NBTUXzoO9YJN0HwaWezmHzDMkxwNbqxCWDY8UMxc162ddPssQ6hVuh58Qg4cIK88Nybsul5/s1600/DSC_0335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyi7x5Qnjdd6ViATZqrr8nUUZfllLBXmETDnED0toZU020txJBhR_Z1br1ZTCNiMnT5Wt3NBTUXzoO9YJN0HwaWezmHzDMkxwNbqxCWDY8UMxc162ddPssQ6hVuh58Qg4cIK88Nybsul5/s640/DSC_0335.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And remember--keep your dogs and chickens separated. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. I'm not an expert, but I'll be happy to help.</div>Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-242643495030338892011-03-23T20:13:00.000-07:002011-04-01T09:03:09.866-07:00Frijoles RanchAbout forty five minutes south of Carlsbad lies the Guadalupe National Park. It is home to numerous trails, wildlife, and some of the most contrasting landscapes within a close proximity that I have ever seen. We began our hike at the Frijoles Ranch, at the base of the Guadalupe Peak foothills.<br />
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</div><div>The trail head winds through desert brush, cacti, and shrubs. It is rocky in places, but the slope is gradual and good for hikers of all levels. </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0zBLKDX-P98XrbpqcmVQxpwZzfy1uNksovzwxzGUmbFY0G_eF9eFBCI_PhXfAI9qkToPVGMMFqG4g64bSrny1viDhT1BAO1T0QqTC6POWhS8ITN6dlpw1hjQmBZH73Syq98XAxKGqWB1/s1600/DSC_0299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0zBLKDX-P98XrbpqcmVQxpwZzfy1uNksovzwxzGUmbFY0G_eF9eFBCI_PhXfAI9qkToPVGMMFqG4g64bSrny1viDhT1BAO1T0QqTC6POWhS8ITN6dlpw1hjQmBZH73Syq98XAxKGqWB1/s640/DSC_0299.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>You will want to bring adequate water, sunscreen, and a hat.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHr-qERi1_EEc4dCc6a_fNBl6Hh2oLam69gP5wgjAIgmnNnOL4b71tA4Fg5nXhfTEndbjtSivNdgmU2QRmgB4bPcEhVes9e1pGZcvK2jdaG_OKx3wRtqfGsffxJ-1cyFZNbZw8GG7AHNO/s1600/DSC_0304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHr-qERi1_EEc4dCc6a_fNBl6Hh2oLam69gP5wgjAIgmnNnOL4b71tA4Fg5nXhfTEndbjtSivNdgmU2QRmgB4bPcEhVes9e1pGZcvK2jdaG_OKx3wRtqfGsffxJ-1cyFZNbZw8GG7AHNO/s640/DSC_0304.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Manzanitas are among my favorite trees. They have red smooth bark and their twisty shapes mimic drift wood.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0ycHLcuJrpX4tWCr-QXYOjiEir9IS0SQ6PTvxY67dvjN1nrMg7QdrF9iTp8yj1MzTQ-YqeX8jV4fZTi_ZHNbiKojyQtrrh49J9BK3qeq3UDRRV1wPqahatlVCwnKwQl-4r4mjh4_lOuA/s1600/DSC_0306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0ycHLcuJrpX4tWCr-QXYOjiEir9IS0SQ6PTvxY67dvjN1nrMg7QdrF9iTp8yj1MzTQ-YqeX8jV4fZTi_ZHNbiKojyQtrrh49J9BK3qeq3UDRRV1wPqahatlVCwnKwQl-4r4mjh4_lOuA/s640/DSC_0306.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>They are also fun to swing on.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnT199-MkQYQhGwpoIwoPvzwbYe7itsNixoYuhfv1Ee6Z88p_580BXMXaSm-1AhdTK7c5qrlA96iR9sA27faRdU1r1Qt4D-4C2EhLRg4E1QmWMOc5i7xSZW5J8sVjXqFJ0QK41StkxtTjc/s1600/DSC_0308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnT199-MkQYQhGwpoIwoPvzwbYe7itsNixoYuhfv1Ee6Z88p_580BXMXaSm-1AhdTK7c5qrlA96iR9sA27faRdU1r1Qt4D-4C2EhLRg4E1QmWMOc5i7xSZW5J8sVjXqFJ0QK41StkxtTjc/s640/DSC_0308.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Still swinging.</div><div><br />
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</div><div>Halfway up the trail, we entered this old forest. The trees are just beginning to bud, even so, the density of the forest created welcoming shade from the midday sun. </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFAR7_YipA7pbA5FJU3nOr5DTMmOS2Z5S1VvqQg4leXuNbMQ-3LCD_C5xeBk0fJ9yiyfnNiH6aHwNN_ufYOeGlPKXLbm6_IWfEPoS4vOIhMkODcuuG7uDUzR_Qm9MDDDyVk2o3Ea59_r3/s1600/DSC_0313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFAR7_YipA7pbA5FJU3nOr5DTMmOS2Z5S1VvqQg4leXuNbMQ-3LCD_C5xeBk0fJ9yiyfnNiH6aHwNN_ufYOeGlPKXLbm6_IWfEPoS4vOIhMkODcuuG7uDUzR_Qm9MDDDyVk2o3Ea59_r3/s640/DSC_0313.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Water from a spring trickled along the forest floor, aiding to the contrast of the harsh desert that we had just crossed.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuBNuuIdxzCw7QNcdzSPtOameS0Xkf3SR2-b6j7Ing1l89ZJjY5KCGODRaFyzJKWOBo5k21VTWriJA-npHalRmx_7zfQT3uYqyLozrX_VELh2I14YBai1Z6MrUUMmdZSeCNHOikw60ywmE/s1600/DSC_0316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuBNuuIdxzCw7QNcdzSPtOameS0Xkf3SR2-b6j7Ing1l89ZJjY5KCGODRaFyzJKWOBo5k21VTWriJA-npHalRmx_7zfQT3uYqyLozrX_VELh2I14YBai1Z6MrUUMmdZSeCNHOikw60ywmE/s640/DSC_0316.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The kids were begging to dip into this pool, and felt sorry for themselves when I wouldn't allow it. The sign clearly says not to leave the path.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuR66ssee6PJN8221zisDWjh_cscITRNN9IJh6Rck8w2TCXdZcdYz6P5_n8RY0EhYi_cWoYeMUlC4oeLXM0SWCJClqF029yvwRkOO0OyQkREXrcFWmt1doE_ThhIo72jk5M60bOA1HKNZ3/s1600/DSC_0318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuR66ssee6PJN8221zisDWjh_cscITRNN9IJh6Rck8w2TCXdZcdYz6P5_n8RY0EhYi_cWoYeMUlC4oeLXM0SWCJClqF029yvwRkOO0OyQkREXrcFWmt1doE_ThhIo72jk5M60bOA1HKNZ3/s640/DSC_0318.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div>Somehow, this one's feet ended up getting wet anyway.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5QqanT4xXMfLjgfDC3Y1jJRSKMJBBaazNdN8DBuNZWlsRmt-fyyy017Sw3TuOR9Epqruwa53_YxpGWgdNV_Dn3bzZNffxYRxPhhkcpIljl5yplEdD7Er6HQtMdnPFpbN-VBGiDYGEqowK/s1600/DSC_0317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5QqanT4xXMfLjgfDC3Y1jJRSKMJBBaazNdN8DBuNZWlsRmt-fyyy017Sw3TuOR9Epqruwa53_YxpGWgdNV_Dn3bzZNffxYRxPhhkcpIljl5yplEdD7Er6HQtMdnPFpbN-VBGiDYGEqowK/s640/DSC_0317.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>This is where desert and forest converge.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimotuum3Q0Br04S-10BGVnyNQ9HhyDhhGZQH6xzUmx34I1kZwSTQaABiGfTOtgAV0AsR1Zm11rkfqV8e7oueRUgjtpqGy5ClAIR6JzU-8Wco0F2YW_ToHRFXsfNDXSo2M3namHtcKGLCQl/s1600/DSC_0320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimotuum3Q0Br04S-10BGVnyNQ9HhyDhhGZQH6xzUmx34I1kZwSTQaABiGfTOtgAV0AsR1Zm11rkfqV8e7oueRUgjtpqGy5ClAIR6JzU-8Wco0F2YW_ToHRFXsfNDXSo2M3namHtcKGLCQl/s640/DSC_0320.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We did break away from the trail to sniff the bark of a ponderosa pine; it smells like vanilla.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VS4A818mVWtLLfxbKpcdmMGyx4xu69OQkYjQvw6HQygNyZh2tzoHC5NcFtEPJNKRUe75bCJyyszYhPbBaHjJiSyu1q3IJZrKpcQdBWji1cllFaxrcZz5RH9sTqeeIN-fE34d6Y56nG-n/s1600/DSC_0334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VS4A818mVWtLLfxbKpcdmMGyx4xu69OQkYjQvw6HQygNyZh2tzoHC5NcFtEPJNKRUe75bCJyyszYhPbBaHjJiSyu1q3IJZrKpcQdBWji1cllFaxrcZz5RH9sTqeeIN-fE34d6Y56nG-n/s640/DSC_0334.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>This is Manzanita Spring. It was used by the settlers of Frijoles Ranch for crops and cattle.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsyND6T4hFLC-cGZLCXI1aYmQqvjV7xMd_2HX80DtxhGDso2MObff7j1pS5JiXGVJlzbJunK8NzPesLcIEvWjgI_5qImA7AaeYZ51SIEGFhPpBokiZKssMBJNs30pgF93imuwgRKrCx7H/s1600/DSC_0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsyND6T4hFLC-cGZLCXI1aYmQqvjV7xMd_2HX80DtxhGDso2MObff7j1pS5JiXGVJlzbJunK8NzPesLcIEvWjgI_5qImA7AaeYZ51SIEGFhPpBokiZKssMBJNs30pgF93imuwgRKrCx7H/s640/DSC_0338.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>The old ranch house has been converted into a museum. Not only is it surrounded by breath taking views, it also has a small irrigation ditch that flows from another spring around the property. The kids had a hard time staying out of this one too.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgMop71kprX7CJHTS9Rjp5I898G2UrHn3_cSQhxrBUNGKWKEXnrx40Lq9VMIMfEGIjHwKkbBZEDqAJOUirZjqfYnAR8hIHeq0lz79mSiz4Xx3ZE21PqGbmLteYs80fVoXnYl-ZVZXxBGgI/s1600/DSC_0340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgMop71kprX7CJHTS9Rjp5I898G2UrHn3_cSQhxrBUNGKWKEXnrx40Lq9VMIMfEGIjHwKkbBZEDqAJOUirZjqfYnAR8hIHeq0lz79mSiz4Xx3ZE21PqGbmLteYs80fVoXnYl-ZVZXxBGgI/s640/DSC_0340.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>The spring on the property is housed in this small building were the water flows freely down its course. </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN9vskEd6rcNazrj0DHHqMnL8NbmgY5lWjyr1kJfh5CdPS-Bi2bSnH3o_NnVgBAXSJ52NTF1a8Vlt5Ti0VlT_QnS93r2YeDWqyK3spB1VYuE6-qAkWSxejWw4G2bHHHzKoyys9pGvOepWa/s1600/DSC_0341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN9vskEd6rcNazrj0DHHqMnL8NbmgY5lWjyr1kJfh5CdPS-Bi2bSnH3o_NnVgBAXSJ52NTF1a8Vlt5Ti0VlT_QnS93r2YeDWqyK3spB1VYuE6-qAkWSxejWw4G2bHHHzKoyys9pGvOepWa/s640/DSC_0341.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>My favorite building on the ranch is this small school house. One side of this building was the classroom, the other side was the teacher's living quarters. She had eight pupils and in payment for her services, she received a horse, room and board, and thirty dollars a month.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4MN0x07mXrY5Hp3fReoplSbScLulnCdd6DFoVMZepdK-N2sNjFsP76JpvoC_FmGyhQrjsBQvRjJBsBT5QT9ZDHCD8BdvgnKonecqlcXQLQWUR-pxpxoyWDDr0BbiwCiCtN-MN-oJMxFq/s1600/DSC_0342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4MN0x07mXrY5Hp3fReoplSbScLulnCdd6DFoVMZepdK-N2sNjFsP76JpvoC_FmGyhQrjsBQvRjJBsBT5QT9ZDHCD8BdvgnKonecqlcXQLQWUR-pxpxoyWDDr0BbiwCiCtN-MN-oJMxFq/s640/DSC_0342.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>How eight students and one teacher were able to fit in this space is beyond me. People must have been smaller back then.</div><div><br />
</div>Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-82283217676275298102011-03-22T21:25:00.000-07:002011-03-31T13:22:52.664-07:00An Eggseptional Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The complaint, "There is nothing to do in this town," is a common one. I always find something to do. In fact, my list of projects is never ending and it doesn't help that I am one of those people who start something, and then half way through, start something else. I have project ADD. I am still working on building that chicken coop, however, all the thought of chickens and eggs brought to mind Easter decorating. A visit to a scrap-booking store provided all the inspiration I needed to create this project:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1qX_4AbQqjRGd1DQY7nkrc1fvT4bZdE8TU39_D4couz4KjcXwNpVj0OAcpiNbOx6X7lfkFpEXpKsy72oIrQGPX9LrVYXVOCXNrwsTtOst4kjmocgGI7YS3QIW_as5jSpSCbqROalJJZD/s1600/DSC_0363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1qX_4AbQqjRGd1DQY7nkrc1fvT4bZdE8TU39_D4couz4KjcXwNpVj0OAcpiNbOx6X7lfkFpEXpKsy72oIrQGPX9LrVYXVOCXNrwsTtOst4kjmocgGI7YS3QIW_as5jSpSCbqROalJJZD/s640/DSC_0363.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
My crafting method is not a pretty sight. Someday, I will have a craft-room complete with all those neat little cubbies with everything labeled and organized. For now, I have a kitchen table.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv3ZLzjplw9eD2HO8leCrk0AGVIAARgh63PZHVXYnILOskqZgQ1swtfZ6k88A_lyfez8lAnOGq5bPf2SV9DUHX4n2LmOumPU3mlUJKgzTQQk8BcvHCqKDN44bY5Swz9Hne57eMP6khE_p6/s1600/DSC_0365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv3ZLzjplw9eD2HO8leCrk0AGVIAARgh63PZHVXYnILOskqZgQ1swtfZ6k88A_lyfez8lAnOGq5bPf2SV9DUHX4n2LmOumPU3mlUJKgzTQQk8BcvHCqKDN44bY5Swz9Hne57eMP6khE_p6/s640/DSC_0365.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Supplies are simple. You'll need some plastic eggs, glue, old sheet music, and vintage sewing trims, i.e. lace, buttons, etc. Decoupage plastic eggs with torn pieces of sheet music.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMjwfdbEmQLBTfVWQg5WD_Qk_MQYIfIi-OyTm8BSYTcaorteR8sxeVPXapzj_0vsy0V9t_s-eHjDADSrIlUPSI6z6XLhAn80HvQTXv6cRU3EreQdfMk6TDLPt_cEp38yc2mPUw3xrN2sd/s1600/DSC_0366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMjwfdbEmQLBTfVWQg5WD_Qk_MQYIfIi-OyTm8BSYTcaorteR8sxeVPXapzj_0vsy0V9t_s-eHjDADSrIlUPSI6z6XLhAn80HvQTXv6cRU3EreQdfMk6TDLPt_cEp38yc2mPUw3xrN2sd/s640/DSC_0366.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Once the egg has dried, you should end up with this.<br />
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As an avid garage saler and hoarder of vintage things, I have a collection of old sewing odds and ends. I used scraps of lace, buttons, and scrap-booking paper that has been cut using one of those cricket cutting machines.<br />
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Add trim or lace.<br />
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Next, add your paper pieces.<br />
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Embellish with vintage buttons. Oooh la la!<br />
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I finished the tops by gluing a loop of rick rack and covering the ends with a button so that the eggs can be hung from a tree.<br />
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This is the base of the branch I will use to hang the eggs. I used quickcrete and cemented the branch into the pot for stability.<br />
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I may have to trim this branch a bit--looks like I may have gotten carried away.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Design options are limitless.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know, I really should be outside cutting wood for that coop, but this is so much fun!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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And let's not forget what this holiday is really about.<br />
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Happy Easter!Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-70153606603291999032011-03-19T07:48:00.000-07:002011-04-05T12:34:51.813-07:00Build a Chicken Coop - Complete DIY chicken coop Tutorial<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EbM-4jV04Qk?fs=1" width="425"></iframe><br />
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I have always wanted to try my hand at raising chickens. I have read numerous books, magazine articles, online articles, and I have come to the conclusion that the best way to truly learn something is to do it.<br />
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With limited carpentry skills and some scrap lumber, I have finally settled on this design for my coop. I plan to make several modifications; for one, I'm concerned that this design does not have adequate ventilation. Two: this design does not feature a place to roost, but I'm sure I can easily fix that. I hope to post pictures of the completed project within the next couple of days.<br />
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Wish me luck!Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-64271524980775934272011-03-02T19:28:00.000-08:002011-03-31T13:23:47.936-07:00Unwrapping GiftsWhat is it about opening gifts that we love so much? Is it the suspense of discovering what hides within the box? Is it the hope of getting that which we have waited so long to receive? Or is it simply that we like getting new things? Well, some of us like new things.<br />
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I love old things, especially when they have been passed down from my family. That's why it was of special importance to me when my mother, who got the OK from her mother, informed me that I could unwrap my great-grandmother's china and crystal.<br />
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This is what I dug out of the shed.<br />
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Two dirty boxes, encased in time and dust, and waiting to be opened... Are you feeling the anticipation?<br />
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Go ahead, take a moment.<br />
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By the way, the box that says HOMO--it means homogenized milk--we're not that kind of family.<br />
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The china has been put away for so long, I can't even remember what it looks like.<br />
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Ok, ok, I'm opening the box--sheesh, talk about impatient.<br />
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This is the pile of rags, that wrapped the contents of the box, that I already opened and saw, that you are still waiting to see. Hah!<br />
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That's just wrong isn't it?<br />
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Ok, I'll stop being mean now.<br />
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There are four different sizes of crystal glasses, each etched with a delicate filigree of roses. I have never dined at a table set with four glasses, but I know that there was a time when this was standard.<br />
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The china set includes serving pieces, and I begin to imagine how they might all be used.<br />
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At the end of my unwrapping, I am posed with this thought: If we still took the time to set a table with ornament like this, would we then be inclined to prepare a good meal to go with it? And if we had taken the time to set a lovely table and cook a meal worth using our best china, would we spend more time selecting the company to share this special meal with? And in combination with our good food and good friends, would some of our tension and daily stresses of a hurried life begin to fade over laughter and a flowing glass of wine?<br />
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I stand back and admire the china and crystal that has finally found its way out of the box and into the hutch that my father made. It reminds me of a time when the world moved at a slower pace, when people sat down and shared meals together, even if it meant washing four glasses for each guest.Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-6353402180066792592011-02-15T21:41:00.000-08:002011-04-01T09:03:09.866-07:00Shotguns and ShenanigansI had but one request from my man on New Year's Day: to go shooting with him and his buddies. Who am I to argue with the old adage, "The family that shoots together stays together?"<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So we loaded up a small arsenal, headed out into the middle of the desert, and proceeded to shoot stuff. Namely, clay pigeons, coke cans, boxes, and a Christmas bag adorned with two cuddly penguins wearing Santa hats. I had a hard time with the last target; it was strangely morbid.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3XRwhn6p9EgKSQcU_i0ALcm9lJ8EEHlKvH-Ov7M4ECO0RrAF9UtBcjauqOMgs9-z9UoMUDtRoqxKCF1vrFoKHyVSyJ-5_XEoelgLD2Q0oe4Cp_XEoegBTkU9BA_4bMyC5QKxFXmRpI80u/s1600/DSC_0410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3XRwhn6p9EgKSQcU_i0ALcm9lJ8EEHlKvH-Ov7M4ECO0RrAF9UtBcjauqOMgs9-z9UoMUDtRoqxKCF1vrFoKHyVSyJ-5_XEoelgLD2Q0oe4Cp_XEoegBTkU9BA_4bMyC5QKxFXmRpI80u/s640/DSC_0410.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>This is part of the small arsenal.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97Px9dmzroHsMhdynpDrS1wR-TDvQhqLMJCL7GBKKHR-K4Oy4YHf4f0byPAmdbuO9-wAagnyN78Rf3Qfsj-m7DnPkf5m35Jt9RruTVGq-zPPht_sPxKR0aOl5NEPrfDKQ-Yk0iu8lop3q/s1600/DSC_0391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97Px9dmzroHsMhdynpDrS1wR-TDvQhqLMJCL7GBKKHR-K4Oy4YHf4f0byPAmdbuO9-wAagnyN78Rf3Qfsj-m7DnPkf5m35Jt9RruTVGq-zPPht_sPxKR0aOl5NEPrfDKQ-Yk0iu8lop3q/s640/DSC_0391.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Ladies, this is the equivalent of your best friend showing you her new Coach hand bag and you tell her, "How nice! You are so fortunate," while in your mind you're thinking "B*tch."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp17RAIGumbyCjGTt-qWZ5UohTQwOgogebSle9i-3c7IomAmYtmcLBRPQHH5L0kLAsfgRaV1Rc1exwyBDSXsf_UWULPCj2vq3fclql9VPn_lNk9L21lEkB6iQkGuY4VdpB49auv0AJER6t/s1600/DSC_0420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp17RAIGumbyCjGTt-qWZ5UohTQwOgogebSle9i-3c7IomAmYtmcLBRPQHH5L0kLAsfgRaV1Rc1exwyBDSXsf_UWULPCj2vq3fclql9VPn_lNk9L21lEkB6iQkGuY4VdpB49auv0AJER6t/s640/DSC_0420.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I know everythin thay is to know about shootin guns. Thay's big guns, little guns, shot guns, hand guns, guns in potatoes, pineapple guns...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOrg6D0JKjvz1unnIEDraN5dT7KIOkGJ6EzOJGlgwI4XYft2Hb794bUs7zEDh11SlVv7OZPqwiZ0bUChgTFjwlgTtjvURDzKgg_eSmKVqqjGcm2zA3zqAKt4kMpGBzaWnRHWi1W6nKznW/s1600/DSC_0409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOrg6D0JKjvz1unnIEDraN5dT7KIOkGJ6EzOJGlgwI4XYft2Hb794bUs7zEDh11SlVv7OZPqwiZ0bUChgTFjwlgTtjvURDzKgg_eSmKVqqjGcm2zA3zqAKt4kMpGBzaWnRHWi1W6nKznW/s640/DSC_0409.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
We decided to take a break from shooting, and threw rocks in the river instead.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPG5bfncXnlwgVP_35jbuC962o6b3h4lghUaGP1s9EQCiCRHplt54STN-UN7y_xAjHF00leCuM-r2Kte8ysB7Xboa1EmHK6eMWny_TR41HudF73KRcYUaM7O8LRK7GPwbhfRGWsVIeAGv/s1600/DSC_0417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPG5bfncXnlwgVP_35jbuC962o6b3h4lghUaGP1s9EQCiCRHplt54STN-UN7y_xAjHF00leCuM-r2Kte8ysB7Xboa1EmHK6eMWny_TR41HudF73KRcYUaM7O8LRK7GPwbhfRGWsVIeAGv/s640/DSC_0417.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I learned a thing or two about bird dogs--when they hear a shot, they run after whatever it is they think you shot, even if it is only a clay pigeon that has been blasted into fragments. It soon became a matter of calling all the dogs back in after each shot, so we could shoot some more without shooting the dogs. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Men do not like to wait for dogs to get out of the way so they can shoot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvioG-WI98EUxi6YjeTbGfwqlrnoJ6cXbH_-fV-wv8A-1giUAOPKHOTqbDE0JIBAPIgMYTZTCm89zCF0qCgK0oZqR0TfUa-ok7VN9lQ1w0XY5QAJzqf480a7WNNmVg-uz67ZpQZKGCgpN/s1600/DSC_0418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvioG-WI98EUxi6YjeTbGfwqlrnoJ6cXbH_-fV-wv8A-1giUAOPKHOTqbDE0JIBAPIgMYTZTCm89zCF0qCgK0oZqR0TfUa-ok7VN9lQ1w0XY5QAJzqf480a7WNNmVg-uz67ZpQZKGCgpN/s640/DSC_0418.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>This is where dogs go when they don't get out of the way so men can shoot.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSjAhQYoo57UxqHBMHT2Z4Cjixj97TKZn5-LChGqwRiccUhOQSq0UVODu9hmxq9OukQysPTscDriHmos_FrLFVGnstiiYLpyZQjf3XWm867Q8wpljBGKepiPx1TIKHr0jWKZynP-oBI9M/s1600/DSC_0424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSjAhQYoo57UxqHBMHT2Z4Cjixj97TKZn5-LChGqwRiccUhOQSq0UVODu9hmxq9OukQysPTscDriHmos_FrLFVGnstiiYLpyZQjf3XWm867Q8wpljBGKepiPx1TIKHr0jWKZynP-oBI9M/s640/DSC_0424.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dogs do not like to be stuck in the back of a pickup while men are shooting. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKExY5fJuAzYBT-oH5WMig5NsNDj9KIfkRReJsGacG7dplxCGDHsZw2Fx40dZey1pY4_r20QUL-R-JFyUWTZR4J8WYArTfwKKya1FJ8WNH6hVtUgJK4RIYPDu7JBnNW_thmy90A2-a2g1J/s1600/DSC_0421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKExY5fJuAzYBT-oH5WMig5NsNDj9KIfkRReJsGacG7dplxCGDHsZw2Fx40dZey1pY4_r20QUL-R-JFyUWTZR4J8WYArTfwKKya1FJ8WNH6hVtUgJK4RIYPDu7JBnNW_thmy90A2-a2g1J/s640/DSC_0421.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>As the sun began to set, we packed up our things because the men could no longer see what to shoot anymore. Actually, I think they would have stayed late into the night shooting into the darkness, or aiming for the stars, or maybe even the moon. It would have gone something like this, "You dang star! You done twinkled your last!" BOOM! <br />
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But the women were cold and hungry.Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-65900265410661272242011-02-14T20:59:00.000-08:002011-04-01T09:03:09.866-07:00Snow DaySnow in New Mexico? It happens. I spent many a day in Alaska cursing the white powdery fluff, but down here, it is a welcome surprise.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWavQwfHNEirwiYLzxaTNi8LbvuwkVR75ojKlTNB6a_wbbhIibLU3c6wzTGMzk_DijglFM9pcT28d18ngy6EdURD2_ViD3-onsQXruopbZ_AzZnUe-eMDKlUFXEVD0yOzrlWEcUGEDUIfa/s1600/DSC_0079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWavQwfHNEirwiYLzxaTNi8LbvuwkVR75ojKlTNB6a_wbbhIibLU3c6wzTGMzk_DijglFM9pcT28d18ngy6EdURD2_ViD3-onsQXruopbZ_AzZnUe-eMDKlUFXEVD0yOzrlWEcUGEDUIfa/s640/DSC_0079.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We awoke to find a blanket of six inches of fresh snow. A mere hiccough in the exhalations of winter storms as far as Alaska is concerned, but down here in New Mexico, this warrants a school closure. Woohoo! And I'm not the only one who's glad about staying home on a snow day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WUcwHIvfssTp_80Xul66gKbhbNe6-D92L0iOaqXPMXQymszBIlhShkXvGS5qFU3f0Fi3KR1FN0-xfiK_fjjzJY_ifkopIM6bkUzuK_SP8c3jT8GbmTkBGG_IV6yc-nGsbFiBwQDvjzk6/s1600/DSC_0080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WUcwHIvfssTp_80Xul66gKbhbNe6-D92L0iOaqXPMXQymszBIlhShkXvGS5qFU3f0Fi3KR1FN0-xfiK_fjjzJY_ifkopIM6bkUzuK_SP8c3jT8GbmTkBGG_IV6yc-nGsbFiBwQDvjzk6/s640/DSC_0080.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was a great day to make a new friend.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As for Ranger, he had never seen snow before. He hopped up into the back of the pickup truck and required much coaxing to come down and play.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0NGvkQ_pwxCekZtyCEFdwQ94xudLZDnY8IEASg-gQ1JgW1q-q2Ic0V1iq7treDE1MGV5DQlg9gSTl39mg69OMtUZfFDp7rMuEJTGVqCJKOw4o8_e8_X1GjNO9lHWFBuU5oxh-j0H07mq/s1600/DSC_0108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0NGvkQ_pwxCekZtyCEFdwQ94xudLZDnY8IEASg-gQ1JgW1q-q2Ic0V1iq7treDE1MGV5DQlg9gSTl39mg69OMtUZfFDp7rMuEJTGVqCJKOw4o8_e8_X1GjNO9lHWFBuU5oxh-j0H07mq/s640/DSC_0108.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We finally convinced him that snow is fun.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggX4nHi2gWiS0uKI-MtLBkUI8tzTc8XBzUCJERZJw_lyySkcJCdCPvJfOuKZZdtL486SYULuNvaXNL90v59dLkiuBTH6k2A5Cy5ZC4vvFGtO7S7gHvJpAJ7r-xAwTvu1VjNstSRk-JFqU4/s1600/DSC_0090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggX4nHi2gWiS0uKI-MtLBkUI8tzTc8XBzUCJERZJw_lyySkcJCdCPvJfOuKZZdtL486SYULuNvaXNL90v59dLkiuBTH6k2A5Cy5ZC4vvFGtO7S7gHvJpAJ7r-xAwTvu1VjNstSRk-JFqU4/s640/DSC_0090.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Except for face shots.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div> Poor puppy.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5dVl972KhiZAxpac_wH9TY1srnWJZ4JWNjS9D0RGoieqPQVGJzWfXeTUQsgtbr1r7exYR1RY7v60OdDvko5R_OzlnB6LeKkr-gEmk-J2ijMrOrXBAxHUwmH_B7dXqP9K6jVZR9Pnyd8r/s1600/DSC_0099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5dVl972KhiZAxpac_wH9TY1srnWJZ4JWNjS9D0RGoieqPQVGJzWfXeTUQsgtbr1r7exYR1RY7v60OdDvko5R_OzlnB6LeKkr-gEmk-J2ijMrOrXBAxHUwmH_B7dXqP9K6jVZR9Pnyd8r/s640/DSC_0099.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Time to get even.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just to prove that we really are in New Mexico and not visiting Alaska. See. Ever see a snowy cactus in Alaska? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy snow days all! </div><br />
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</div>Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-38333953435216321272011-02-14T20:29:00.000-08:002011-03-31T13:24:37.658-07:00Tiling the Living Room<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Living in a fixer upper and not having an endless budget reminds me of an old Chinese proverb: "Starving man wait long time for roast duck to fly into his mouth." Translation: If you want something done, get off your butt and do it yourself. Hence the reason I decided to use my week off for Thanksgiving break to tile the majority of my house.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIODd8E9KNjGx7IfCzt4uIWwB12aOaFWAPVz7Xb2esrtNV2xhPvdwk1eIL6XetgyLUGv9YNF6RBaY0thInIY7fpczE6iPfBjc1dNFMyUD2kprMkI84LWcPj811mQXm7ttAvIb5syNWk0u3/s1600/DSC_0048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIODd8E9KNjGx7IfCzt4uIWwB12aOaFWAPVz7Xb2esrtNV2xhPvdwk1eIL6XetgyLUGv9YNF6RBaY0thInIY7fpczE6iPfBjc1dNFMyUD2kprMkI84LWcPj811mQXm7ttAvIb5syNWk0u3/s320/DSC_0048.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
The entryway was covered in old, ugly brown mosaic. Since I wanted the new tile to be level, we had to chip the mosaic off of the entryway. It was grueling work for me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIL44_8lW76fEIKJFEM7iHZ7MwLi59_-JCg59Fr6H8Lq_TxiDcR97oW9_jyW32AnpYeM7gKGse_5R1WT_yec95nbZvkkmd8vwCD62BUoHodqdVJRXZ242rOhgA9Ghr4VEmVZmCtAzkCnhy/s1600/DSC_0056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIL44_8lW76fEIKJFEM7iHZ7MwLi59_-JCg59Fr6H8Lq_TxiDcR97oW9_jyW32AnpYeM7gKGse_5R1WT_yec95nbZvkkmd8vwCD62BUoHodqdVJRXZ242rOhgA9Ghr4VEmVZmCtAzkCnhy/s320/DSC_0056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> But not so grueling for others.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgbLRVPvBH75eGAvv_cWAEuAKWZa3CDXMAsgcZKgk1WAP7LpYMLsNFlzXo9P9sT_lfohTj7CZhBINOn6jOTddktVtibIvhFwOJVZSpX4ieLlok1kLK7AWj2ixRjvMmy3u_kci6wrxXnaE/s1600/DSC_0046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgbLRVPvBH75eGAvv_cWAEuAKWZa3CDXMAsgcZKgk1WAP7LpYMLsNFlzXo9P9sT_lfohTj7CZhBINOn6jOTddktVtibIvhFwOJVZSpX4ieLlok1kLK7AWj2ixRjvMmy3u_kci6wrxXnaE/s320/DSC_0046.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> I know. It's a small space, but trust me, this is harder than it looks. Once we removed the old tile, it was time to start setting the new tile in place.<br />
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</div> Actually, laying the tile was not as difficult as I thought it would be. Using a chalk line, we lined it up to the corners and made a large X across the room to find the center. We then laid our first tiles in a cross to set our rows. After that, it was just a mater of filling in all of the rows. I worked everyday from 8 a.m. until 5 p.m. I made the cuts on an inexpensive tile saw. When it was all said and done, my hands were cracked and dry, but I now have a beautiful floor and I saved myself five dollars for each tile I set (can you believe that's what the flooring store charges for installation?).<br />
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I can now add "tiling" to my list of things I can do. And trust me, if I can tile a house, anyone can.Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-43643411191553635912010-07-12T16:17:00.001-07:002011-03-31T13:24:52.610-07:00A Room of Her Own<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zOFsg9IPalCaynG7rMSlK0lC8adMfKbL1RuUCIZpVAmgq1FdQC1f2uORjznUWjpLsfzMMAkUz7s166lSvrKoJBaExpMT1vl7ncpIsaRp9LEAcrsqO8YnWnMQCwZdqeq72xMIInAEkepY/s1600/DSC_0057.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493165041727443922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zOFsg9IPalCaynG7rMSlK0lC8adMfKbL1RuUCIZpVAmgq1FdQC1f2uORjznUWjpLsfzMMAkUz7s166lSvrKoJBaExpMT1vl7ncpIsaRp9LEAcrsqO8YnWnMQCwZdqeq72xMIInAEkepY/s400/DSC_0057.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 268px;" /></a><br />
<div>Every young girl needs a space to call her own, a space to dream, a space to create, and a space to seek refuge from the everyday drama of teenage life. My almost teenage daughter is ready for a room that will provide her with just that.</div><div><br />
</div><div>A plastic shoe bag, hung over the back of the door has become my favorite kid room organizing idea. They are great for holding all kinds of stuff that would otherwise give way to clutter. The clear plastic kind works best so kids can see exactly where things are. </div><div><br />
</div><div>While Carlsbad may not be brimming with places to shop, digging around town can offer some surprising finds.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The theme for this room is fun and beachy, but not too kiddish; she's a big girl now:</div><div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLfoS_i_Coa_jpUN_T5q8Za3i1-ABTnQRrFN7X5XHf299qu17vTZLCNYFkGwzWN-QrwhMP-tirocGZLrxqJNBdGog4jcipkvy1-maKLF5TiVyQb6qpSoWyLY7ocuYfQDCwJXE-nX0dPfq/s1600/DSC_0056.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493165029739363938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLfoS_i_Coa_jpUN_T5q8Za3i1-ABTnQRrFN7X5XHf299qu17vTZLCNYFkGwzWN-QrwhMP-tirocGZLrxqJNBdGog4jcipkvy1-maKLF5TiVyQb6qpSoWyLY7ocuYfQDCwJXE-nX0dPfq/s400/DSC_0056.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 268px;" /></a>I was going to leave this chest of drawers in its current shabby state, but with the rest of the room being crisply painted, I'm afraid it doesn't go. A new coat of white paint will be in its future.</div><div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQfNZBuLIiP4Rtrq4BSjw735E6xEBrzot3xzuK_q8jq93G_r1P3Jbl7yeN4mUn8XQi4FGWufERFRbEUDdPEQAU6wsHs88pxQxQV8ZJt2VrdLBl0gbfGhkQJm3U6eIBqPsypyV7vM2eCzq/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493164271679949906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQfNZBuLIiP4Rtrq4BSjw735E6xEBrzot3xzuK_q8jq93G_r1P3Jbl7yeN4mUn8XQi4FGWufERFRbEUDdPEQAU6wsHs88pxQxQV8ZJt2VrdLBl0gbfGhkQJm3U6eIBqPsypyV7vM2eCzq/s400/DSC_0025.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div>I dug this bed out of the shed. My father made it out of sturdy oak. A coat of paint gives it new life and a new purpose.</div><div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUYw297a8ZS_F1OCHx_bU2jizkGGwaxmnOGsV2SuUhzH6Vgo1WCQQUYjyMjgaZ-uakYzPKlD8byVN626xm7qZbYtd5Hko3EMAtSdg9CZGSqxeC9YijL0JWXc2CcF0zyUX4jwzzHOJL3FTJ/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493164264576869538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUYw297a8ZS_F1OCHx_bU2jizkGGwaxmnOGsV2SuUhzH6Vgo1WCQQUYjyMjgaZ-uakYzPKlD8byVN626xm7qZbYtd5Hko3EMAtSdg9CZGSqxeC9YijL0JWXc2CcF0zyUX4jwzzHOJL3FTJ/s400/DSC_0024.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div>I found this old frame at one of my favorite antique stores in town (Then N' Again)--the added cork board makes it the perfect place for hanging pictures. </div><div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcpfpZkj1cz7xcHMDroV9ByMLG8POUkGkulDyFyl__nK0fn-JJrKX5Fn4YJtk4YwIo3RFtrpQZeFlIF2-3ZLVtzSg_w1UA6PqpIIBf-3iyX8BAL00PrG27U-PYj4zr9Ne-FoZYvS5q80R/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493164257380244066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcpfpZkj1cz7xcHMDroV9ByMLG8POUkGkulDyFyl__nK0fn-JJrKX5Fn4YJtk4YwIo3RFtrpQZeFlIF2-3ZLVtzSg_w1UA6PqpIIBf-3iyX8BAL00PrG27U-PYj4zr9Ne-FoZYvS5q80R/s400/DSC_0021.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div>Starfish glued to the ends of seagrass help to make a fun alternative to a traditional floral arrangement (Two Creative has the best selection of floral picks in town).</div><div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzO3dS2UZVE8rbsHFG-ZT0NJ22WL7hqmbtvo1fydLg4XsgBE5IIeWMA9mJaSG8BMSMYOmC0YhzStzRJthX015PXIhZC3Mkxje22K3jkQM1umBZgcqxeuGxj2nAmM8VFlZp0mAqI3sUWPNz/s1600/DSC_0023.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493164247601137986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzO3dS2UZVE8rbsHFG-ZT0NJ22WL7hqmbtvo1fydLg4XsgBE5IIeWMA9mJaSG8BMSMYOmC0YhzStzRJthX015PXIhZC3Mkxje22K3jkQM1umBZgcqxeuGxj2nAmM8VFlZp0mAqI3sUWPNz/s400/DSC_0023.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 268px;" /></a></div><div>The initials were once solid black; I added some paint, plastic pearls, scrapbook designs (from Treasured Moments), and sea shells to salvage this artwork.</div><div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvy9ZHlxJ2aSm0fBTmZztkLXW5TrfFyDjPj1i5XJLlWio6iMJIFI2irwuKOaCZ1ZI95seyw9FmQlrdwvThjxxB9wq6n_Nf3Ai-ODAOqw7sFxLcApJuA9J_xqlfr8C_jLQr1tyVTYWySdz3/s1600/DSC_0050.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493164234277608386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvy9ZHlxJ2aSm0fBTmZztkLXW5TrfFyDjPj1i5XJLlWio6iMJIFI2irwuKOaCZ1ZI95seyw9FmQlrdwvThjxxB9wq6n_Nf3Ai-ODAOqw7sFxLcApJuA9J_xqlfr8C_jLQr1tyVTYWySdz3/s400/DSC_0050.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>This desk was half off at an antique store. A coat of paint and new hardware make it a perfect fit for this room. Accessories from the clearance isle at Marshall's (Ok, I do some of my shopping out of town) are the finishing touch for my daughter's new space. I look forward to all that she will accomplish while she is here, and I know that before I am ready for it, she will be sitting at this desk, studying for her driver's license, filling out applications for college--they grow up so fast!</div><div><br />
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</div>Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-38417225888950260642010-07-03T18:21:00.001-07:002011-03-31T13:25:11.075-07:00welcome home<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK0a3bbYFAxA8_hjrN6D3ApzzHKk_RSeZ19gVk0CqjxfMEwYvcKn0eb-ZQpYRrFVlH0mqVWaP_M61-3jGHkER-yYd0Bv9CgvDh_XjL314LXa1GECMlgeJXm9paJnoJjmZcIFYBchyphenhyphenLctJJ/s1600/DSC_0486.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489866539953721410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK0a3bbYFAxA8_hjrN6D3ApzzHKk_RSeZ19gVk0CqjxfMEwYvcKn0eb-ZQpYRrFVlH0mqVWaP_M61-3jGHkER-yYd0Bv9CgvDh_XjL314LXa1GECMlgeJXm9paJnoJjmZcIFYBchyphenhyphenLctJJ/s400/DSC_0486.jpg" style="float: left; height: 400px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 268px;" /></a><br />
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</div><div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The perfect home: architectural detailing that makes it stand out from all the rest, a patio or deck that extends the living space outdoors, a lush manicured lawn with fountains of flowers dripping over moss covered planters, and a front porch swing swaying in the wind. Do these homes exist? They do in my dreams.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div><br />
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</div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">For myself, this is where I call home: </span></span> </div><div><br />
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</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXKIv9-ShhLnuQnEv5SRHHaiUrW9_e9oF0Svz66hhyFEjIKNgaIS0d38YdU-AwKCHC-tXLxBR4_xE8y8_M7MWrSYrz3BWxZXviTHRaG4f5gt7WU7N3evF5jRfwrXyx9cL0zqW9Vh5JvP7k/s1600/DSC_0019.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" height="428" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489857386096183618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXKIv9-ShhLnuQnEv5SRHHaiUrW9_e9oF0Svz66hhyFEjIKNgaIS0d38YdU-AwKCHC-tXLxBR4_xE8y8_M7MWrSYrz3BWxZXviTHRaG4f5gt7WU7N3evF5jRfwrXyx9cL0zqW9Vh5JvP7k/s640/DSC_0019.JPG" style="display: block; height: 268px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 400px;" width="640" /></a> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The front yard is dead and filled with weeds. Paint cracks and recedes under the demanding heat of the sun. The old single pane windows allow the scorching heat to penetrate in the summer, and invite chilling winds to enter during winter. Despite its quirks, this home is a blessing. I often think of this house as a metaphor for my life. Life will run us down if we let it, but if we focus on healing and recovering, we can and will. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhKMwz7GjFPIijAWeifpC2p8_O7usajreViZPSv3bBEGz557p6c5lLpqHjEWuLof6EUXq_bTY_gjSgy8507FyuIxva6mzsqBNLhHNgQyYIIo6m8GP8eHzvC5PalNT0vTQc3KLPKJhjfBdv/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" height="428" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489857374798012514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhKMwz7GjFPIijAWeifpC2p8_O7usajreViZPSv3bBEGz557p6c5lLpqHjEWuLof6EUXq_bTY_gjSgy8507FyuIxva6mzsqBNLhHNgQyYIIo6m8GP8eHzvC5PalNT0vTQc3KLPKJhjfBdv/s640/DSC_0020.JPG" style="display: block; height: 268px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" width="640" /></a> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In the midst of chaos, there are also places of rest. Even though things may not be perfect, we can choose to have a better perspective. My father once told me that true happiness does not reside in the acquisition of new things, it’s learning to be content with what you already have. I am still learning.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdS5dCw6MiQXPvlSlbJsZmopA61QI3kzqQJpG2QGBdNzuoKkvoSjwGsQ-aEOWk4xPtKO5UAuxiR-WVvevUPRP46hlHP7cL1OSxFUK1qVRNIpzkO-B5oP1p4_n7cDHURj7PgT_06_fsf_g/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489857366134219922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdS5dCw6MiQXPvlSlbJsZmopA61QI3kzqQJpG2QGBdNzuoKkvoSjwGsQ-aEOWk4xPtKO5UAuxiR-WVvevUPRP46hlHP7cL1OSxFUK1qVRNIpzkO-B5oP1p4_n7cDHURj7PgT_06_fsf_g/s400/DSC_0021.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The house stands ready and waiting. I face each day with anticipation. If I think about all of the work that needs to be done, I get overwhelmed. But if I take my time, introduce myself to each room of the house, focus on one project at a time, the house reveals its secrets.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5XL7EafgUegKJpJ3yCJf-xJQC6Wq7AWXYzqtOw15qHAID6UxnWuj58NnC9CfhehmtSIIDG2G3LNluqx0-ZpnDc_097BKvlYffmep_MuA_ubKTl_60LeKsmoxs_TJFj6kNnFjfUQ-sfPB1/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489857358420878386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5XL7EafgUegKJpJ3yCJf-xJQC6Wq7AWXYzqtOw15qHAID6UxnWuj58NnC9CfhehmtSIIDG2G3LNluqx0-ZpnDc_097BKvlYffmep_MuA_ubKTl_60LeKsmoxs_TJFj6kNnFjfUQ-sfPB1/s400/DSC_0024.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And I am privy to a new awareness, so that even a dying branch on an old apricot tree holds value as a place of rest.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792501527957060114.post-90540968654500322612010-07-02T11:35:00.000-07:002011-04-01T09:03:33.087-07:00connecting with Place<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxjQle2rPnO8sQBbfEbD6EMcZQR6zCTz7RFzbITdZsIZ42RxPGLjEkiMaEWKrv3NMnJ6TcWFyzc9q03RwcX7cqZQ8T88-LNksUAKf1fXsu5skeyVXRANAWEpccRigTlFxaH6ihsdNX3jmz/s1600/DSC_0397.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489732103070501442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxjQle2rPnO8sQBbfEbD6EMcZQR6zCTz7RFzbITdZsIZ42RxPGLjEkiMaEWKrv3NMnJ6TcWFyzc9q03RwcX7cqZQ8T88-LNksUAKf1fXsu5skeyVXRANAWEpccRigTlFxaH6ihsdNX3jmz/s320/DSC_0397.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 214px;" /></a><br />
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</div><div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What is it about a place that helps define who we are? There are places we fall in love with, places we hate, places where we wished we lived, and places we can't wait to escape. We are bombarded with images of people living in places that are better than ours; they look so happy, but are they? Is life easier in a place that you love? Mostly, I think of places that no matter how hard we try to leave, they will always be a part of us.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div></div><div><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">I</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"> am torn between places. As a daughter of an Army officer, we never had one place; life was a series of different places</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">.</span></span></div></div><div><br />
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</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJGbHJK00grZp28MSTAFpYmISkjt9utiu44FG78VIjUX8RVInugYDkJb0rA9ngKp3Q8HZxzvSW0RfHuPja1Wls3MF-58GpjpvAdJ32rFpPd0-EdKAm42eHjkZnz9m1XOFheGhoT7WGbSSx/s1600/DSC_0428.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489731785510730530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJGbHJK00grZp28MSTAFpYmISkjt9utiu44FG78VIjUX8RVInugYDkJb0rA9ngKp3Q8HZxzvSW0RfHuPja1Wls3MF-58GpjpvAdJ32rFpPd0-EdKAm42eHjkZnz9m1XOFheGhoT7WGbSSx/s320/DSC_0428.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 214px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 320px;" /></a> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When I was 10, my dad received orders to move to Alaska. We all fell in love with a new sense of place. The surrounding forests in Anchorage were lush, rocks and mountains were jagged and raw, water was abundant in a way I had never seen. A short drive down the Seward Highway would grant endless waterfalls edged with lacy ferns. Ponds, lakes, streams, inlets, they are everywhere in Alaska.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then came the visitors--close relatives, distant relatives, and friends of distant relatives, all eager to visit this place. I never knew when I would be giving up my room to guests, but it was always inevitable.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCNQvCMKY4p2B7kYORvB584T4tKn2brwlVIJSuA2_ieqRay0uU-gHHq-0gCD84p7LwAjUziRThJ0qJRbxmYWPNnqkhiCXkGxBS2jRp7fCzUTXtcppbKCrpnzracshdbOhXVl7TuLF8yXPL/s1600/DSC_0473.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489731772924855410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCNQvCMKY4p2B7kYORvB584T4tKn2brwlVIJSuA2_ieqRay0uU-gHHq-0gCD84p7LwAjUziRThJ0qJRbxmYWPNnqkhiCXkGxBS2jRp7fCzUTXtcppbKCrpnzracshdbOhXVl7TuLF8yXPL/s320/DSC_0473.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 214px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">As I grew older, the elements began to wear me down, or so I thought. The darkness began to suffocate, the cold snaked through layers of my winter coat, snow was no longer fun and enchanting, rather it was something you had to scrape off your car window before you could go somewhere. Life was throwing me punches, and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">place</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> became easy to blame. I often heard myself say, "I can't stand these long winters," "I can't remember when I last saw the sun," "I would take the baby for a walk, but I'm afraid she'll get frostbite," and finally, "I hate this place!"</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-F6hmek9APsZrz1Qi4kfPDOL2MTLEwd_HpN02E7MmzsqSRQBySV_O_wXJrCR6taGszI8XqV9Fr0OCgKb2CAVuHVLeM4AJbJiFGhAoR65Bq0Ojq0iX7xNYi8twaWNbDOGJAjzoTV06eHag/s1600/DSC_0361.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489731764837888402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-F6hmek9APsZrz1Qi4kfPDOL2MTLEwd_HpN02E7MmzsqSRQBySV_O_wXJrCR6taGszI8XqV9Fr0OCgKb2CAVuHVLeM4AJbJiFGhAoR65Bq0Ojq0iX7xNYi8twaWNbDOGJAjzoTV06eHag/s320/DSC_0361.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 214px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Through a series of events came the opportunity to move. My grandmother's house stood empty in Carlsbad, New Mexico. It was built in the 60s, nothing special or unique, the wood paneled walls and dust covered carpet smelled of age and work that needed to be done. Yet I knew I would see the sun, I knew I could walk along the banks of the Pecos River, and I knew I could make something of this house and its small plot of land. It could be a home for my children and myself. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And so I moved. August will mark my third year trying to establish myself in this new place...</span><o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Stacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05386522976788002827noreply@blogger.com0