tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-183975522024-03-13T11:41:59.840-04:00DIVA'S VOICE♪♫♪ The recitatives of one quirky red headed soprano ♪♫♪Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger254125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-71814721954999231462015-08-17T15:30:00.000-04:002015-08-17T15:48:14.641-04:00The #BadSelfieProject Explained<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">L</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ast week I started a little Instagram project. For 10 days I chose to post "bad selfies". Each day I took 5 photos and I simply posted what I thought was the worst of the 5.....the total opposite of what we would normally do with selfie posting right? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oddly enough my bad selfie project stemmed out of a conversation with a good friend about church community....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let me first state, I do love my church family, past and present, but if I'm really honest, I find the church way easier to love when the people completely drop the phoney "I'm a good Christian act" and are simply real.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the years of being actively involved in church life, I'll admit that I've often struggled a lot with the culture. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mainly because there's just a whole lot of surface level superficiality and mask wearing, both intentional and unintentional. (Don't get me wrong there are some "real" people at church, which has helped to keep me hopeful.) Even when we acknowledge the phoniness, we somehow still find ourselves engaging in it. You'd think that the pristine, clean, surface we put on would make others feel comfortable, after all, most of us appreciate aesthetically polished, put together, and pretty. At church and with fellow believers it always makes me feel really uncomfortable and it always has. The pretty, smiley, cleaned up act is just SO counter the true message of Christianity. By hiding the truth about ourselves we completely undermine the basis of our belief - <u>grace</u> through faith in a perfect God, not earned grace through our own perfection. The real ugly truth? The "good Christian" act all flatly points to hypocrisy - a hypocrisy that dishonours and diminishes a God who is nothing but perfect.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let me openly reiterate that I absolutely engage in this, I often put on the nice little act myself, I'm 100% a hypocrite. I'm guilty of smiling away in church or with friends looking like and acting like all is well with me and Jesus, while in reality I'm struggling with deep, ugly, gross sin and pain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you know me at all, I hope you see that I do make an effort to try to be "real"... I tend to tell it like it is, I'll be the first to say what I think or admit how I feel, and I'll openly share my struggles - more than the average person, and sometimes to a fault. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Admittedly my attempt at "realness" is often not well received. I can't tell you the amount of awkward silences I've experienced after choosing "real" and being flat out honest with others. I have especially found this to be true in the Christian world. Being real tends to make others uncomfortable, heck it makes me uncomfortable - my pride would rather not be the girl known as the struggling, messed up one with issues. I think the discomfort around open people comes from the fact that "realness" can easily spark comparison and ultimately judgement. We simply don't feel good about ourselves when we judge others, because deep down we know that our own pride is an even uglier reality to face.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As Christians we wrongly fall into the mindset that we've got Jesus so we're supposed to be happy or at least put on a happy appearance. Life should be perfect all the time right? Simply put, No, and that's why we need Jesus. We are consistently dumb and forget that our salvation is not based on our own perfection, but His. We show our forgetfulness everytime we put on the "happy joy" act and try to hide the fact that we struggle or that we sin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've learned over time that telling it like it is, being honest and showing my ugly true self (with some discretion of course) is generally far more God honouring and glorifying than being secretive and trying to act like I've got it all together. The flat out truth is that without God, I'm an absolute dirty, sinful mess and pretending otherwise is a warped false version of reality. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So where do the bad selfies come in? As I was chatting with my friend last week, I jokingly compared the common superficial "put on" of the church to the insanity of selfies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Generally on social media we only show our best selfies, the ones where our smile is right, pimples are hidden, fat is covered , the light or filter is perfect, we're clean, we're cute, and we look like we're having oh SO much fun....let's face it though, it's not exactly reality or it's often a very skewed chosen version of what we would prefer reality to be. Selfies are in someways a form of denial about our reality. I wondered what church would look like if we all just showed up and posted the bad selfies? Never mind church, what would life look like if we did that? I bet there would be way more authentic beauty...and way, way, way more glory to God for it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I personally need to work on forgetting about presenting my best "selfies" .... symbolically I started on Instagram with the bad selfie project. 10 days of posting "real selfies" - accepting that I may look ugly, sweaty, sleepy, weird, sad, mad, odd, fat, uncomfortable ... If you know me well enough you know that I'm a born "diva", so no, I don't plan on posting my worst selfies all of the time; I do however, plan on challenging myself to strive to be less superficial in the way I generally live my life and present myself to the world including amongst my Christian brothers and sisters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So yea, this means that those whom I already make uncomfortable with my honesty and openness are going to have to find a faster pair of sneakers to run away from me. I refuse to "edit" my true self in any community. Maybe though, just maybe, by being vulnerable myself, other people will be less inclined to judge and look a little closer only to realize that showing the sweat stains, fat, mussed hair, unflattering facial expressions, bad poses, pimples, wrinkles, etc. can actually make for a really beautiful selfie. My point? The "bad selfie" can really be an awesome thing! The bad selfie says, "this is why I need Christ! The imperfection that you see in me is why God's grace, like the hymn says, is so amazing!" Bottom line - it's always way easier to see the perfection of God and His work in a "bad selfie" than it is in those cleaned up superficial "pretty" selfies that we are so often tempted to "post" at church and to the world. Let's just admit it, all of our selfies are "bad selfies", but with the "Chirst filter", any selfie can be beautiful.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-3943103317677152632011-08-03T18:28:00.031-04:002011-08-03T19:28:11.753-04:00Om nom nom nom nom!!!<div style="text-align: center;"> <i>"Your words were found, and I ate them, </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart....</i>"</div><div style="text-align: center;">Jeremiah 15:16 </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Every time I think of this bible verse, which I refer to often as I'm reminded of it each time I pick up my bible or hear from God's word via sermon or teaching, I can't help but think of Cookie Monster. Yes, I said Cookie Monster. I don't necessarily picture the fuzzy, blue, googly eyed muppet messily devouring his food as much as I do the sound he makes as he eats: "Om nom nom nom nom!" Strange? Yes, but can I help that I have been created to walk around with seemingly inappropriate sound bites in my head? <br />
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We all know that Cookie Monster enjoys cookies a lot (he also enjoys alphabet letters and phones and other inanimate objects, which I think makes him funny and likable.) In essence though, this guy is all about eating cookies. His main motivation is cookies. He's constantly thinking about and longing for cookies. He spends most of his time on Sesame Street waiting to get his hands on cookies to eat so that he can enjoy and delight in them. <br />
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I've been enjoying the Cookie Monster sound imagery so much lately that I decided to look up some videos of him eating. In my research I came across this little video where cookie monster teaches the correct way to eat a cookie. I honestly thought that cookie monster was a little careless in his eating of cookies and other objects, cause let's face it the dude lacks some major self control, but I think I may have judged him too soon. Here he teaches a wise, thoughtful, intentional way to eat a cookie. Maybe this muppet is onto something... who would have thought that one could indirectly learn something from Cookie Monster about ways to devour the word of God! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Cqz9ZXUoUcE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://youtu.be/Cqz9ZXUoUcE">http://youtu.be/Cqz9ZXUoUcE</a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Cookie Monster's Way to Eat a cookie:</div><div style="text-align: left;">1. Look at Cookie 2. Identify cookie 3. Smell cookie 4. Eat it!! "om, nom nom nom nom" 5. Eat the crumbs so to not let any of it go to waste.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-76498530927495509712011-07-20T22:26:00.009-04:002011-07-20T23:18:58.623-04:00Revival<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nn7xIQzZxzY/Tid_e8duWXI/AAAAAAAAEHc/CMN7UxNHhoI/s1600/IMG_0209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nn7xIQzZxzY/Tid_e8duWXI/AAAAAAAAEHc/CMN7UxNHhoI/s320/IMG_0209.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><i>"The stone that has been encasing my heart has been cracked. </i><br />
<i>The Lord took a chisel and a hammer and when I asked, He did His work</i>."<br />
- Jan 23, 2000</div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a picture that I drew 11 years ago. I'll never claim to be any sort of visual artist, but I drew it in my journal at the time when God got a hold of my heart and lead me to become a Christ follower, so for me it's significant. <br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">Lately God has been working on my heart in what feels like the same way. Over the past few years I have slowly rebuilt that cold hard stone casing around my heart. A casing that would eventually confine and constrict my heart. Bottom line, I allowed my life circumstances and my experiences to stir up an ugly cold concrete composed of the grit and shale of hurt, pain, resentment, unforgiveness, disappointment, and discouragement. I dumped that concrete around my heart, walked away, and let it harden. It just seemed easier to let the dingy, gunky, cold, hard stone remain. Despite the fact that I knew the One with the chisel and hammer, I gave up. I resisted that swift hard blow that could have shattered that stone in an instant. I ran away from God. I was so tired of failing, so tired of fighting and so tired of holding on that I made the decision to let go. I CHOSE to let go of my God and in doing so I was plunged into quite a scary place of darkness. Not the kind of darkness I knew before knowing Christ because this time I was constantly aware of a light that radiated a glare that hurt my eyes as I huddled in the dark... My God was there waiting with the chisel and hammer, but I rebelled and refused Him. I let go of Him and like a child I closed my eyes, plugged my ears and sang out loudly "la la la la la!" hoping not to hear or see Him.<br />
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The amazing thing is that He certainly didn't let go of, lose sight of , or stop listening to me. He wouldn't shatter the stone around my heart until I asked Him, but He certainly held on tight to me. He pursued and pursued and ceaselessly pursued me. He poked. He prodded. He convicted. He opened my eyes and He gently removed my hands from my ears. But most importantly, He simply just loved me. He allowed me to fall and fail but was determined to constantly remind me that I was His forever.<br />
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And the most beautiful thing? When I finally allowed Him to shatter the stone, He forgave me. The thought of such amazing grace truly overwhelms my liberated heart. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>"The stone that has been encasing my heart has been cracked. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Lord took a chisel and a hammer and when I asked, He did His work</i> again."</div><div style="text-align: center;">- July 20,2011</div><br />
</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-69274537448564140132011-07-17T19:35:00.000-04:002011-07-17T19:35:59.663-04:00It's been a while huh?Well... I guess it's fair to say that I can't really consider myself a blogger anymore, seeing that it's been well over a year since my last post. There are a lot of reasons why I stopped blogging,but I feel a little like this blog is incomplete.... like it needs one final post before I can pack it up, put it away in the attic and move on. So I suppose one more is on it's way.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-39526794786425473652010-05-02T15:36:00.000-04:002010-05-02T15:36:58.471-04:00Music<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/S93TyZKQqEI/AAAAAAAADik/nZJS1TZDtMQ/s1600/2799878319_d7dda69a47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/S93TyZKQqEI/AAAAAAAADik/nZJS1TZDtMQ/s400/2799878319_d7dda69a47.jpg" tt="true" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is such a fascinating description of Music. My girlfriend wrote it out in a card for me a long time ago and I just came across it today. I can see how one might choose to worship the art form itself as opposed to the Creator of such a powerful language.</span> <br />
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<em>I am music, most ancient of the arts. I am more than ancient; I am eternal. Even before life began upon this earth, I was here - in the winds and the waves. When the first trees and flowers and grasses appeared, I was among them. And humanity came, I at once became the most delicate, most subtle and most poerful medium for the expression of emotions.</em><br />
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<em>In all ages I have inspired people with hope, kindled their love, given a voice to their joys, cheered them on to valourous deeds, and soothed them in times of despair. I have played a great part in the drama of life. Through my influence, humanity has been uplifted, sweetened and refined. With the aid of humanity, I have become a fine art. I have a myriad of voices and instruments.</em><br />
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<em>I am in the hearts of all and on their tongues, in all lands among all peoples, the ingnorant and unlettered know me, not less the rich and the learned. For I speak to All, in a language they all can feel. Even the deaf hear me, if they but listen to the voices of their own souls. I am the food of love. I have taught people gentleness and peace; and I have led them onward to heroic deeds. I am comfort for the lonely, and I harmonize the discord of crowds. I am a necessary luxury to all. I am Music.</em><br />
<em>- Anonymous</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-1476996526797683102010-01-07T10:27:00.013-05:002010-01-07T12:37:32.905-05:00A few of my favourite things<span style="color:#33ccff;"><span style="color:#33ccff;">I'm generally not one to endorse products, but in the past month 2 random products have proven themselves to be worth a mention. Both products get the Diva Stamp of approval (kind of like the Good House Keeping seal but better cause it has nothing to do with house keeping:)</span> </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424028688641051090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/S0YFWsX6SdI/AAAAAAAADWM/2HzpkCZ6ZAY/s320/YaktraxPro-Shot.jpg" border="0" /><span style="color:#6666cc;">The first -Yaktrakers Pro. As a walker/runner I find the winter months to be difficult. Over the years I have figured out what to wear to keep warm while power walking and running. It's the slippery snow and ice that has frustrated me to no end. Before Christmas I pulled a muscle after losing grip on some hidden ice and I was ready to give up and attempt to be motivated by DVD's alone - Until I heard about yaktrakers. They're these coil rubber things that slip on over your runners. They grip to the ice and snow to prevent you from sliding. I was skeptical when I saw them on the Shopping Channel, but did some research, and found them at my local running room so decided to pick some up. And Yaaaay! they actually Work!!!! I thought they'd make the walking/running awkard, but they don't. Albeit they're not very attractive - they could use a little more sparkle or colour, but they certainly help make my wintery interval training easier! And I have to admit I secretly do kind of enjoy being able to zip quickly past those other random walker/runner people on my path with an ' in yo face slippery sucka!' kind of strut:)</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><div><span style="color:#ff99ff;"><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424021849307155618" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/S0X_Il3pDKI/AAAAAAAADV0/zzUiYjfG7b8/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" />The second dreamy product - Bath and Body Works <em>look ma, new hands</em> moisturizing hand lotion. Being a teacher trying to avoid all the kiddy germs I have to constantly hand wash and sanitize. This fall I have found my hands to be more dry than normal. (probably as a result of the overuse of the sanitizer with the H1N1 paranoia ) I've tried lots of hand creams which mostly leave a greasy residue forcing me to wash it off within minutes. I got <em>look ma, new hands</em> as a gift from a student and I LURVE it! It keeps hands super soft, smooth, supple and best part - it isn't greasy. It's apparently the paraffin in the cream that makes the difference! Whatever the magical potion is, it's worth the little over the top for hand cream Bath and Body Works price. I'll admit that I can't help but caress my own hands throughout the day cause they are so dang soft! Creepy? A little, but trust me, if you used look ma, new hands you would be a creepy hand caresser too! </span></span></div><div></div><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></div><div></div><div><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#33ccff;">So what are you waiting for? Come, join the "in yo face slippery sucka!"/ creepy hand caresser club:)</span></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-21456175423140345452009-12-10T14:09:00.016-05:002009-12-10T14:46:34.134-05:00Cantique de Noël<span style="color:#ffcc66;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;">My favourite Christmas carol by far is and always has been O,Holy Night. Even before I could comprehend the depth of the words, the song always gave me chills. I remember hearing it as a child at midnight mass and even when it was the warbly past her prime Lithuanian church soprano singing I'd still be moved. It didn't feel like Christmas eve to me unless I heard that carol.<br /><br />Now, I am often asked to perform the song, and it still gets me everytime. I find myself getting emotional by the words, words that hold so much truth and are far more personal to me now. Even when I'm just on my own practicing the song I get chills (not because I sound great either, often I sound like a dying chicken:) The words are just so powerful. I've never sung the carol in french eventhough it is the original language. I've starting learning the french version though as I've been asked to sing it en français for a small gig next weekend. . . the English words are similar, but there are a few images that speak that much more powerfully in french - so moving! Looking fwd to sharing the carol in both english and french this season:)</span><br /></span><br /><span style="color:#ffcc66;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Minuit, chrétiens, c'est l'heure solennelle,<br />Où l'Homme-Dieu descendit jusqu'à nous<br />Pour effacer la tache originelle<br />Et de Son Père arrêter le courroux.<br />Le monde entier tressaille d'espérance<br />En cette nuit qui lui donne un Sauveur.<br />Peuple à genoux, attends ta délivrance.<br />Noël, Noël, voici le Rédempteur,<br />Noël, Noël, voici le Rédempteur! </em><br /><br /></span></span><span style="color:#ffcc66;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>De notre foi que la lumière ardente<br />Nous guide tous au berceau de l'Enfant,<br />Comme autrefois une étoile brillante<br />Y conduisit les chefs de l'Orient.<br />Le Roi des rois naît dans une humble crèche:<br />Puissants du jour, fiers de votre grandeur,<br />A votre orgueil, c'est de là que Dieu prêche.<br />Courbez vos fronts devant le Rédempteur.<br />Courbez vos fronts devant le Rédempteur. </em><br /><br /></span></span><em><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffcc66;">Le Rédempteur a brisé toute entrave:<br />La terre est libre, et le ciel est ouvert.<br />Il voit un frère où n'était qu'un esclave,<br />L'amour unit ceux qu'enchaînait le fer.<br />Qui Lui dira notre reconnaissance,<br />C'est pour nous tous qu'Il naît, qu'Il souffre et meurt.<br />Peuple debout! Chante ta délivrance,<br />Noël, Noël, chantons le Rédempteur,<br />Noël, Noël, chantons le Rédempteur!</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-48227890940448614122009-11-09T21:10:00.005-05:002009-11-09T21:39:11.668-05:00Snack Time!<div align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SvjP47q92DI/AAAAAAAADOQ/TW8nfvMp5z0/s1600-h/bnl_snacktimecd.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402296330028439602" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SvjP47q92DI/AAAAAAAADOQ/TW8nfvMp5z0/s200/bnl_snacktimecd.jpg" /></a>I'm totally addicted to BNL's children's CD SnackTime! It's been out for a while, but with all of the Steven Page controversy I've avoided downloading it for a while. I really wish that I downloaded it sooner though. . . . I have been playing it during gathering time for all of my classes for the past week and I can't get enough! I love it so much that I even listen to it in the car. . . where there are no children. . . . well except for one child at heart! My job requires me to listen to a lot of children's music , and I do like a lot of the kiddie CD's out there but BNL is by far my fav. It not only appeals to children but to grown-ups too . . . I particularly enjoy all of the Canadiana references:) I highly recommend Snacktime for anyone with children . . . or without .. . who says that you need children to have fun and enjoy some great music:)<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/N_Wx35sNqdM&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/N_Wx35sNqdM&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIkqEF2Mvc8">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIkqEF2Mvc8</a><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wPh_6_u98tI&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wPh_6_u98tI&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></div><div align="left"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPh_6_u98tI">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPh_6_u98tI</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-88040999066390395602009-10-20T22:05:00.003-04:002009-10-20T22:20:01.345-04:00Oh Poop!My car has recently become a fowl public washroom!!! Lately my car seems to be attracting bird poop. I'm not talking about 1 or 2 random droppings either - My car is covered with over 20 bird poop splats! The kind that not even a good car wash can get out. Not sure if it's where I've been parking or if the birds have a bone to pick with me. I am certainly not happy about it -it's almost as though my car has a sign on it that says "poop here".<br /><br />My dad found this video though and has offered to install the anti-poop device on my vehicle- so I plan to have a poopless car very soon! :)<br /><br /><p><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-ii7-q7DWdQ&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-ii7-q7DWdQ&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></p><p></p><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ii7-q7DWdQUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-44809997267922689882009-08-04T11:34:00.003-04:002009-08-04T11:44:22.904-04:00Olivia the Pig<span style="color:#ff0000;">I'm all about the book <em>Olivia </em>by Ian Falconer lately. It's for kids, but I happen to enjoy it a lot. I picked it up a while back for Julia because I found it at Winners, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">which</span> meant that it was cheap. I had heard that it was a great book. It won the publishers award back when it was released so I figured why not. Well little did I know how Olivia is truly my kindred spirit. Olivia is the spunkiest, sassiest little pig around! She's a wee little diva with a big personality. Julia loves the book too. She's read it so much with Daddy that she has it memorized. She "reads" it to me any time I'm over at her house. The other day as she was "reciting" the book, Julia stopped and acutely observed that Olivia and I are a lot a like. . . she said "Auntie, Olivia likes the colour red just like you!" she also noticed that Olivia likes to sing - just like Auntie! She looked at me and said quite seriously, "Auntie, if Olivia wasn't a pig and if her name wasn't Olivia - this book would be about you! . . . Maybe we should call the book Auntie the Pig!" :) Julia then went on to switch out "Olivia" for "Auntie" as she read the rest of the book. . . I suppose if one looks really closely there is a bit of a resemblance between Olivia and I . . . :)</span><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SnhVs6Z4ZsI/AAAAAAAACto/ZisP8nziOQo/s1600-h/olivia_wideweb__470x391,0.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366133186092361410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 333px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SnhVs6Z4ZsI/AAAAAAAACto/ZisP8nziOQo/s400/olivia_wideweb__470x391,0.jpg" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-6627064228119663572009-07-03T12:00:00.011-04:002009-07-03T14:28:22.285-04:00The Truth about Divadom - By: Professor Prima Diva Donna<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353551043018409954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 288px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 380px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SkuiTy4Ix-I/AAAAAAAACqg/5M6RSJRv2WA/s400/diva+(2).jpg" border="0" /><span style="color:#ff6666;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">With the latest trend in society to call every walking, breathing woman a diva I feel it my duty to clarify a few things. I'll lay it out there with as much grace and tenderness that can come from a "true, bonafide, certified" Diva . . . I'm sorry to say, but the title "Diva" can not be applied to just any woman. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">If we examine the history of the word Diva it was originally a term used to celebrate a woman of outstanding talent, beauty and majesty in the <u>world of Opera.</u> I'm truly sorry to break so many poor little un-diva hearts, but that means that at the very least one must be able to SING in order to truthfully live in the Diva realm. And when I say sing, I don't mean in the shower or at the karaoke bar or even to your wee little children who aren't yet able to comprehend that you are in reality squawking like a dying chicken. The term was used by the Italians to refer to a woman with a truly "Divine" voice. Of course there is a similar word that would refer to male singer, but I for one don't see it as necessary to discuss such nonsense. We all know that great sopranos are also great at everything else including: glamour, mystery, beauty, and radiance. We are certainly worthy of adoration for more than just our great voices, but it really does all come down to our teeny tiny infoldings of mucous membrane that stretch across the larynx and vibrate with such magnificent splendour and beauty.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">What I'm really saying here is that if you are going to have the gall to call yourself a diva you must first at the very least be able to perform a death defying stellar cadenza popping all of the high C's,D's etc. with extreme skill and beauty, all the while maintaining your glamorous yet mysterious facade. Of course you also must be a master at several other skills, notably these: the maim and destroy all other sopranos skill, the humiliate your accompanist skill, the conduct the conductor with a death glare skill , the upstage ALL others at ALL times skill, the dump your lover at the drop of a dime skill, the over the top hissy fit skill and so much more. Let's be real, if you haven't mastered any of the skills that truly define a Diva at this point in your life, forget about it! You have no hope. You simply don't have what it takes to ever live up to the title. So stop pretending to be a diva and just deal with being ordinary. . .ordinary is um . . wonderful too . . yes it is! Simply wonderful! I personally wouldn't want to be just ordinary, so I do truly understand the desire to proclaim oneself a diva. I truly sympathize with you from the bottom of my heart if you are really just an ordinary person trying to fill the sparkly shoes of an authentic diva. For the sake of all of the bonafide, certified diva's out there can you please just accept who you are and stop abusing and misusing our rightfully earned title. The term "Diva" can only be applied to those who are truly grandiose enough to own such a divine title. :)</span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-72697223909537496682009-06-26T10:57:00.011-04:002009-06-29T14:40:20.038-04:00Reflection on Michael Jackson's Death<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SkTjyOlAliI/AAAAAAAACqQ/yaNCe72BjH4/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351652709269280290" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SkTjyOlAliI/AAAAAAAACqQ/yaNCe72BjH4/s320/untitled.bmp" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcc33;">Michael Jackson is dead, and although I'm not one to usually comment on such things, it's hard not to comment on the passing of such an influential artist. I always find it so fascinating to watch how the world reacts to celebrities and more so to their deaths. Even myself, when I heard the news yesterday I was quite shocked - as though I never could have imagined Michael Jackson ever dying. I didn't cry, but I certainly understood how huge his passing would be to the world.<br /></span><div><div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcc33;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcc33;">I too am one who would include Michael Jackson as a part of my childhood memories. I recall the day my sister got both the Thriller and Jackson 5 albums for her birthday. For months we would gather around our bright blue Fischer Price record player, slip out the huge round black vinyl records, drop that needle and dance away. We eventually wore out the Thriller record and replaced it with the tape - which would be permanently found in Jen's cool ghetto blaster:) I recall being terrified of the song thriller with Vincent Price's creepy voice and haunting laugh at the end. (I still get creeped out by that part today.) Oh and those times we would attempt to watch the video of dancing Zombie MJ chasing after the girl , without being scared out of our minds were numerous. Then there were my cousins Danny and John who were huge fans. They had the sparkly glove, the doll, the posters, the buttons - I think that Dan even mastered the moon walk :)</span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcc33;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcc33;">With all of those memories in my own small life, no doubt MJ was very influential. He was indeed an incredible artist - pushing the edge with all of his eccentricities. I suppose though that his death really reiterates that he was indeed simply a human being. He made himself appear to be so inhuman, and he became such an icon that he almost seemed immortal. And the reaction of the world yesterday and today and I'm sure over the weeks to come only puts him in the position of idol even more. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcc33;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcc33;">I don't know if I'm abnormal or if others think about this when a celebrity dies too, but I can't help but wonder where Michael Jackson is now and what he is experiencing. Being a Christian who often meditates on the after life, it's almost an automatic place where my mind goes. I think it's so interesting that we as men can't help but turn a celebrity into even more of an icon in death. We make them even more inhuman, and forget that they too were fallen men. It's almost ironic to me when I juxtapose all of the earthly images with what I imagine is happening for MJ now. I'm pretty certain that for Michael Jackson all of the fame and idolization has been stripped away. To God, Micheal Jackson is not the "King of Pop". To God, Micheal Jackson is simply a mortal man who met his Maker yesterday. In God's eyes, Michael Jackson has only ever been His child, His creation. Is MJ in heaven? I don't know - that's one of the mysteries of death, not knowing for certain - only God knows. Being the King of Pop with money and celebrity didn't exempt Michael Jackson from death though. I can't help but think that as soon as MJ met God face to face yesterday - that all of the worship, fame, and idolization that he received and even tried to create for himself on earth seemed extremely minute, inconsiderable, frivolous, and even ridiculous compared the reality of the amazing shekhinah glory of the one true God, King of all kings including the king of pop.</span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-61877813197992408312009-06-16T16:06:00.004-04:002009-06-16T16:28:40.146-04:00It's simple<span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ffff;">About a month ago God really took hold of me and specifically said:</span><br /><em><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffccff;">"<span style="color:#ff6666;">I want you to just do what you do, be who you are, follow where I'm leading, minister where I'm calling and step out for My glory."</span></span></em><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ffff;">Seemed so simple at the time because those are things that I can do with His help. . . . but boy has it ever become apparent how much I get in the way of all that seems simple.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-3046387838233012402009-05-03T17:27:00.006-04:002009-05-03T17:48:35.582-04:00Dandelions<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/Sf4MR5JT20I/AAAAAAAACFU/q3Z_2qgxNlo/s1600-h/warm+weather+075.jpg"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/Sf4MR5JT20I/AAAAAAAACFU/q3Z_2qgxNlo/s400/warm+weather+075.jpg" /></a> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px" align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ffff00;">I feel sorry for Dandelions. Why is it that they aren't good enough to be treated just like every other flower. Yes, yes, I know technically they are a "weed" , but they are pretty like other flowers. I was reminded of this when my niece pointed to the "pretty yellow flowers" on the grass the other day and we just ignored her cause they are not "flowers" they are "weeds" yuck. . . . somehow lovely little dandelions have become a "dirty weed". Children always see them as flowers. I remember wanting to pick them as a little girl just like Julia, and would often gather bunches for my Mom or teacher. And when giving them there was always this 'thank you for the thought, but ewww' look on their face. Soon one catches on that they are just a "weed" so don't stop to admire anymore and worry when they pop up on their lawn. Why is it a faux pas to leave them on your lawn? If you ask me the Dandelion is adorable, bright, cheerful and very unique. How many flowers turn into fun white fluff balls that can be blown everywhere? The dandelion is clearly evidence of how our inner most child and natural appreciation for beauty is far too often squashed.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-52196276417097750712009-04-16T11:41:00.005-04:002009-04-16T12:33:31.609-04:00My Favorite Word<span style="font-family:arial;color:#6666cc;"><span style="color:#9999ff;">Is it weird to have a favorite word? Cause if it is then I'm weird. My Favorite word in the</span> english <span style="color:#9999ff;">language has to be '</span><span style="color:#ff6666;">SASSY</span>'. <span style="color:#9999ff;">Just say it -</span> <span style="color:#ff6666;">Saaaassssy</span><span style="color:#9999ff;">! Yeah! Say it again . . .</span> </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#9999ff;">The more I say it the better I feel.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#6666cc;"><span style="color:#9999ff;">"You're</span> <span style="color:#ff6666;">Sassy</span>!" <span style="color:#9999ff;">"I'm</span> <span style="color:#ff6666;">sassy</span>" <span style="color:#9999ff;">"We're all a little</span> <span style="color:#ff6666;">Sassy</span>" . . . <span style="color:#ff6666;">sassy, sassy sassy</span><span style="color:#9999ff;">!! Doesn't it just make</span> <span style="color:#9999ff;">you smile?</span></span><br /><span style="color:#6666cc;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#9999ff;">The word is great because it has a great meaning too!</span><br /></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">Sassy (sās'ē) </span></strong><a class="pronkey" title="Click for guide to symbols." onclick="ahdpop();return false;" href="http://dictionary.reference.com/help/ahd4/pronkey.html"></a><span style="color:#ff6666;"><strong> adj. sas·si·er, sas·si·est</strong> <br /></span><em><span style="color:#ff6666;">Lively and spirited; jaunty.<br />Stylish; chic: a sassy little hat.</span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#9999ff;"><span style="color:#9999ff;">I suppose I have always unintentionally strived to be a</span> <span style="color:#ff6666;">Sassy</span> girl. Particularly on the stage . . . most of the characters I play are pretty <span style="color:#ff6666;">sassy</span>, some sassier than others. I never have more fun than when I play those <span style="color:#ff6666;">sassy</span> little divas.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#9999ff;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#9999ff;">Honestly I haven't been feeling all that <span style="color:#ff6666;">sassy </span>lately. . . Perhaps as one matures and has to deal with real life the<span style="color:#ff6666;"> Sass</span> deflates. . . boooo! :(</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#9999ff;">Well I for one won't stand for deflated <span style="color:#ff6666;">Sass</span>!! I refuse to be a boring un<span style="color:#ff6666;">-sassy</span> diva. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#9999ff;"><span style="color:#9999ff;">Watch out cause this diva is bringing</span> <span style="color:#ff6666;">Sassy</span> back!!!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-64166507632716805332009-04-04T22:41:00.004-04:002009-04-04T22:52:26.074-04:00The Photoshoot<embed style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 320px" name="flashticker" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" align="middle" src="http://widget-0d.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=72057594050382605&site=widget-0d.slide.com"></embed> <div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; WIDTH: 400px"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=72057594050382605&map=1" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://widget-0d.slide.com/p1/72057594050382605/bb_t000_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=72057594050382605&map=2" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://widget-0d.slide.com/p2/72057594050382605/bb_t000_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=72057594050382605&map=F" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://widget-0d.slide.com/p4/72057594050382605/bb_t000_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">For my Birthday Lucas and Julia wore their matching <em>"If you think I'm cute you should see my Auntie"</em> T-Shirts. Of Course I saw this as the perfect photo op. . . little did I know that capturing a 7 month old and a 3 yr old in the same frame would be exceptionally difficult. After 49 shots the t-shirt can only be fully read in 1 photo. . . and to get them both looking at the camera at the same time without any tears seemed to be an almost impossible task . . . we did it though. And we managed to capture some silly 3yr old facial expressions and Lucas' adorable sumo wrestler legs, which I simply can't resist. :) Cute . . . just like Auntie :)</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-83478198659504992782009-03-19T11:51:00.005-04:002009-03-19T14:44:25.274-04:00Immuninators<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/ScKRzrkbyNI/AAAAAAAAB6M/VxsoyRX4MNM/s1600-h/immune%20system%2010.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314970827305502930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 324px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/ScKRzrkbyNI/AAAAAAAAB6M/VxsoyRX4MNM/s400/immune%2520system%252010.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff0000;">I've been complaining about my immune system a lot lately. Mostly because I don't understand how it has failed to prevent me from getting all of the nasty viruses and germs that have taken over my body in the past 7 months. The other day as I was fighting off the flu I was reminded of what a powerful little immune system I do have. And boy oh boy was it fighting hard. As I was sitting there feeling the heat radiating off my cheeks and profusely sweating from fever - I knew that all of those little immune system guys or luekocytes were at work and fighting hard. I even recall in my somewhat delirious state giving them a little cheer by saying "Come on guys fight, fight, fight!" So as much as I bash my system I'm so grateful at how hard it has worked to kill all of those darn little buggers over the past few months. I'm thankful that I have a fully functioning immune system - it really is a miraculous little system designed by the most magnificent Creator:)</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-40706012319337066012009-03-15T20:36:00.003-04:002009-03-15T20:41:56.784-04:00Swinging<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/Sb2ffrG-EKI/AAAAAAAAB5U/IkmYw9zGarA/s1600-h/mar+110.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313578501863772322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/Sb2ffrG-EKI/AAAAAAAAB5U/IkmYw9zGarA/s400/mar+110.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;color:#66cccc;">Time to give my nephew his very own blogpost. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#66cccc;">Here's Lucas at 7months old, his first swing ride at the park. He's really such a sweet little guy:)</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-75228755900153820832009-03-11T22:09:00.006-04:002009-03-11T22:31:35.859-04:00Diva's Beef - Nose Picking<p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SbhvFdA6qTI/AAAAAAAAB3U/f68AZhDiLdc/s1600-h/462381393_e57ecf500c.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312117899962001714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SbhvFdA6qTI/AAAAAAAAB3U/f68AZhDiLdc/s400/462381393_e57ecf500c.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#33ff33;">This is a given - watching someone pick his/her nose is totally gross. i however have come to terms with the fact that it seems to be the way of a lot of the kiddies I teach. . . I can't tell you how often I sit and watch several of my students pick their noses and play with their boogies in my classes - ewwwww. They then proceed to try to hold my hand in a circle song or touch the instruments that I hand out and then collect. It's no wonder why I'm always sick!! Today I discovered that it's not only the kids who pass on their boogie germs - it's Moms too! Mom's who pick their baby's, toddler's or preschooler's nose for them and then don't bother to wash their hands afterwards, but proceed to wipe it on their own clothes . Blech! Come on!! I know it's your own flesh and blood and that you're genuinely only trying to prevent boogies from hanging out of that tiny nose, but those boogers are loaded with germs. I understand that it isn't easy being a Mom, and I totally appreciate the fact that Mom's care, but please for the sake of all those out there you come in contact with please, please, please wash your hands after picking your child's nose for him - it's just as germy on your fingers as it is on his. Blech.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-891801971833156932009-03-06T15:31:00.007-05:002009-03-06T16:05:36.551-05:00Fill it up Man.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SbGOBrbBWdI/AAAAAAAAB1k/pBG4_lSv2wo/s1600-h/2215212097_1f276793d6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310181595133598162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SbGOBrbBWdI/AAAAAAAAB1k/pBG4_lSv2wo/s320/2215212097_1f276793d6.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#33ccff;">I confess when it comes to some things I'm a bit of a traditional gal. Being a single woman forces one to have to be a little "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nontraditional</span>". I have no choice but to do pretty much everything for myself, which I don't mind <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">most</span> of the time, but I have to confess - <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">some days</span> I wouldn't mind having a man to do little things for me, like: fill the washer fluid in my car, check the oil, pump the gas, carry my heavy boxes and bags, etc. I think how nice it would be mostly when I hear the clunk of the hood of my car closing. It just feels so unnatural for a diva to see and touch the intestines of her car, and it's so dirty opening up the hood (particularly on a wet snowy day). Then again I suppose when I really think about it, it's really unnatural for a diva to be driving her own car to begin with - she'd normally have a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">chauffeur</span> to do that . . . . </span></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#33ccff;">Oh I'm a miserable excuse of a diva! I can't even afford to hire a man to do all the little things for me . . . oh well! I know I can get by, all I'm saying is that it would be nice sometimes, that's all.</span> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-30536425801451671022009-02-24T11:13:00.006-05:002009-02-24T11:45:23.092-05:00Sick<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SaQjmW3UXpI/AAAAAAAAB0M/dZeAGkgycq0/s1600-h/2417872325_fc00b03efe.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306405402828889746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 399px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SaQjmW3UXpI/AAAAAAAAB0M/dZeAGkgycq0/s400/2417872325_fc00b03efe.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff9966;">I'm sooo sick of being sick. It seems almost unreal the amount of viruses I've had since September. After spending another weekend fighting off my 8 or 9th cold of the season, which immediately followed a horrible stomach flu (1 of 3), I've just had it. I'm so frustrated that I just want to give up on everything. . . no point trying to be healthy because it clearly doesn't make a difference - nothing works and I've tried it all. I'm so tired of having to pretend that I'm not sick by forcing my way through a day of teaching even though I feel achy, feverish, stuffed up and in a daze. I'm tired of spending my hard earned money on advil, neocitron, cough syrup and cold fx. I'm tired of not being able to enjoy my days off because most of them are spent trying to recoup. And I'm tired of losing money because I have to call in sick so that I can spend an intimate day with my toilet. . . . I feel so ungrateful anytime I complain because my health could be way worse, I think of those who are truly suffering and my minor viruses seem like rays of sunshine in comparison. I suppose my only option is to endure . . . and hope that this is it.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-38397209249116942822009-01-13T16:33:00.003-05:002009-01-13T16:36:06.941-05:00sometimes.<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me and not with others.<br />Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with others and not with me.<br />- Perhaps that's what's wrong with me.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-81268109722635657612009-01-11T20:16:00.008-05:002009-01-12T21:53:23.259-05:00Family Sunday<embed style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 320px" name="flashticker" align="middle" src="http://widget-6c.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=72057594050302828&site=widget-6c.slide.com"></embed> <div style="WIDTH: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: left"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=72057594050302828&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-6c.slide.com/p1/72057594050302828/bb_t043_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=72057594050302828&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-6c.slide.com/p2/72057594050302828/bb_t043_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=72057594050302828&map=F" target="_blank"></a></div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Today was such a great day. It was one of reminiscing back to my childhood and secretly I felt just as exuberant as I did when I was a little girl. My Dad took Julia and I tobogganing - ok I went along so that Bapa didn't have to go up and down the hill, but as I played in the cold crisp air and made snow angels I felt like a kid again. I really felt like that little girl who would go zipping down the hill on the sno jet back in the '80's - kind of helped that we used our old sno jet toboggan today. Afterwards we came home for a nostalgic dinner. My Mom made her special sweet and sour spare ribs, which I haven't had since I don't know when, but used to love them when I was a kid. After dinner I couldn't help but smile and remember how fun my Dad is, as I watched Bapa giving Julia a horsey ride - something he used to do when Jen and I were little and we used to love it. I really enjoy our family Sundays!!</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-23033422561387096692009-01-09T12:15:00.011-05:002009-01-09T12:42:06.268-05:00My New Recorder<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SWeMUs0z40I/AAAAAAAABsI/oh9RP3toJQU/s1600-h/eme-81.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289350574627873602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 308px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXVb93o83cY/SWeMUs0z40I/AAAAAAAABsI/oh9RP3toJQU/s320/eme-81.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;">It's no secret that it doesn't take much to excite me to no end. Right now I'm pretty darn excited about my brand new recorder. I got it before Christmas, because I'll be teaching recorder this term and needed one for home to do my prep work. I haven't really had time to play it until now. Why am I so excited you ask? Because it's not your ordinary plastic recorder. Mine is pink and sparkly and it's super sassy!!!! It's so fuchsia pink that it's almost red. It was cheap (mind you I get an educator discount), it came with a matching pink case and a notation chart and did I mention that it's pink and sparkly!! Yup, teaching recorder is going to be fun fun fun!! It's a shame that the kids get stuck with the boring cream coloured ones. Too bad, so sad:( Did I mention that mine is pink and sparkly :)</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18397552.post-70104482699098607522009-01-08T09:30:00.005-05:002009-01-08T10:00:45.615-05:00Said and DoneSo, sometimes . . . ok, most of the time I don't say exactly what I mean to say to people. I water my thoughts down, edit my words, and try not to fully bombard people with my feelings. Well yesterday, it so happened that by accident an unedited e-mail conversation between my friend and I was sent to someone who I ordinarily would re-edit and re-edit my exact words to . . . the conversation was actually about telling the accidental addressee what I was thinking and I was trying to get this person's e-mail address. . . so I would have shared my thoughts, just not in such a blatantly honest way.<br />Once I discovered that this person was now fully aware of my un-edited thoughts I was embarrassed. It revealed a real vulnerability and weakness of mine in a true unaltered light. . . . I was certainly not ready to be so vulnerable with such a person.<br />As I thought about it more. . .perhaps full blown honesty was exactly what was needed to get my point across. I really shouldn't be embarrassed, but am - and now it all comes down to pride.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0