tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75403172786362905692024-02-18T23:19:49.788-06:00Terribly ShyRandom thoughts from a high-functioning introvertTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-79961755944484848092015-04-08T21:25:00.001-05:002015-04-08T21:25:46.047-05:00I Was Just Sleepy<div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On Good Friday, we took the grandkids to our church's Tenebrae </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">service. It was just beautiful, with some lovely flute music provided by DH, along with other music from our church's very best vocalists and instrumentalists.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm not sure I've ever been to a Tenebrae service before. We sang some of the beautiful old hymns like "Oh, Sacred Head, Now Wounded," and after each scripture reading, acolytes extinguished one of the 12 candles representing the 12 disciples. In the middle of the service, DH played a haunting Celtic piece with a wonderful young soloist.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Finally, just before the service ended, the two ministers took the large "Christ candle" from the sanctuary, which was now completely dark. DH closed the service by playing "Were you There," a capella. It was the best Easter season service ever. Of course, I am biased. But people weren't even speaking as they left.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I asked the 8-year-old, "Hey, buddy, were your eyes closed because you were feeling reverent?" "No," he replied. "I was just sleepy."</span></div>
TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-43924500831607880642015-03-15T20:15:00.000-05:002015-03-15T20:15:16.260-05:00I, Blue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg1FeajEv7hSyNWuhTADgIDTrvxn1hlxUOm4bk5X0ehl98PJ3Z3yXhARR5IfyQHCocPOStDQVwEcvPe_JIzHq8WAXMgQyIoWqgPb20mPkFfm6hIg1Of1QvVrhhQTUD9pt94nU1EHJEZg/s1600/IMG_0640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg1FeajEv7hSyNWuhTADgIDTrvxn1hlxUOm4bk5X0ehl98PJ3Z3yXhARR5IfyQHCocPOStDQVwEcvPe_JIzHq8WAXMgQyIoWqgPb20mPkFfm6hIg1Of1QvVrhhQTUD9pt94nU1EHJEZg/s320/IMG_0640.jpg" /></a></div>
A few years ago, we were driving to the beach with the grands happily babbling in the back seat. Little Man, who was just beginning to talk, kept saying something that sounded like, "Ah, boo! Ah, boo!"<br />
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We finally figured out that he was expressing that his favorite color was blue. (He may have upgraded to red now, but I digress . . . )<br />
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It was no surprise, then, that every time we took him to the local ice cream shop, he selected a frozen treat in a bright blue hue. He delighted in the blue tongue and blue teeth that resulted.<br />
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On a Saturday visit last year, we followed up ice cream with a visit to the aquarium store, where I got a photo op that was as blue as blue could be.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-42352505569780334942015-03-15T19:59:00.000-05:002015-03-15T19:59:40.485-05:00Why They Talk So MuchWe were driving the grands to our house for a weekend visit when we learned some eye-opening things about Grandpa and StickyBun.<br />
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SBS: I can't use iPods or iPads today.<br />
DH: So, what did you do to get a time out from electronic devices?<br />
SBS: Ahhh . . .<br />
The Fred: I am staying out of this.<br />
SBS: I was talking too much at school.<br />
TF: Like, multiple days.<br />
DH: Well, buddy, I understand. I almost got thrown out of Cub Scouts for talking too much.<br />
TS: What? A story I've never actually heard?<br />
DH: It's true. So, I understand. It's like you have something to say and you get so excited that you feel like you're going to burst if you don't say it. Do you guys want me to stop ralking? I've been talking a lot.<br />
SBS: No, Grandpa. You've got wisdom.<br />
<br />TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-49071354017070882782013-09-17T17:10:00.000-05:002013-09-17T17:10:59.711-05:00Just Another Music Monday: HeartlessSometimes you stumble across a singer/songwriter that you just have to share. This is <a href="http://adrienreju.com/">Adrien Reju</a>; the <a href="http://adrienreju.bandcamp.com/track/heartless">CD version</a>, with sweet harmonies and a touch of honky-tonk piano, is even better.<div><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/65218161?byline=0&portrait=0&color=c9c9c9" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe></span></div>TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-32006064886693576322012-12-03T19:41:00.003-06:002012-12-03T19:41:48.639-06:00Fun with the Fiscal Cliff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqvfGNHzNlMeFcJEnlr-dWuOWBiXEMqXc4-TrPVFy4q6coehms9_QUmtEmfk_MOg08FTWmKNrYrkO5hCoA3bfo2WdQ_yHXAXvCF_g3efhQ3dGsOl5khMujqxrIsmW3nkRIW9Q2VxbZTmI/s1600/Fiscal+cliff-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqvfGNHzNlMeFcJEnlr-dWuOWBiXEMqXc4-TrPVFy4q6coehms9_QUmtEmfk_MOg08FTWmKNrYrkO5hCoA3bfo2WdQ_yHXAXvCF_g3efhQ3dGsOl5khMujqxrIsmW3nkRIW9Q2VxbZTmI/s320/Fiscal+cliff-5.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Today, I heard a novel idea about a way to save money and have fun with overworked phrases at the same time. A fellow said that he'd decided that every time he heard the phrase "moving forward," he would put a quarter in a jar.<br />
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Well, that got me thinking. The phrase of the month seems to be "fiscal cliff."<br />
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I thought to myself, "you know, I can put a quarter, or even a dollar, into a jar every time I hear that expression." In a short time, I figure, I'll be well on my way to paying my first installment toward the $17 trillion national debt.<br />
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Try this at home! It's a relatively painless way to save, it'll help you get more out of the debt crisis, and when the tax man cometh in 2013, you just get out your jar and pay up!<br />
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If you put money into the jar five times in a single day, it's time to turn off the news, or the business channel, or whatever you've been watching. My advice: read your Kindle, play W.E.L.D.E.R, or watch the new Home & Family show on the Hallmark Channel. <br />
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All they do is cook and decorate.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-59395713052521432452012-10-12T10:58:00.000-05:002012-10-12T10:58:34.603-05:00DH Goes Dumpster DivingSince DH and I had a date to go to the Fair, I figured I had better do something to offset the funnel cake calories. I had just finished a 20 minute session of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=just+dance+3">Just Dance 3</a> when the phone rang. I was sure it was DH, telling me that he was ready for me to pick him up. <br />
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"Hey! I'm on my way home, but I can't find my phone. It was there a little while ago, but then the cleaning crew came, so I wonder…"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4uuyDGyMRgOfe7GVzpImDMz3AAB83DI-rboP3sinhO-y-oniKMHbOEQG0EWvETwsKbCtqbLw2duR0ZigoNVQFy-7GTsaatsu7g4IMr7949KtUZLxXiw-MWJ7QeNowwPMiHAbxCgFJG4/s1600/Dumpster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="225" width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4uuyDGyMRgOfe7GVzpImDMz3AAB83DI-rboP3sinhO-y-oniKMHbOEQG0EWvETwsKbCtqbLw2duR0ZigoNVQFy-7GTsaatsu7g4IMr7949KtUZLxXiw-MWJ7QeNowwPMiHAbxCgFJG4/s320/Dumpster.jpg" /></a></div><br />
"OMG, "I replied. "Wait a minute; I think I set it up for Find My iPhone. I can look and see where it is on a map."<br />
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By the time DH arrived, I had logged into iCloud and pulled up the location of his phone on the map. "You're so lucky to have me," I pointed out helpfully.<br />
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"It looks like it's just a few steps from the office, "I said. "It's not moving."<br />
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We couldn't figure out exactly where it was, until DH had a brainstorm. "It's in the dumpster! They threw it away."<br />
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Off we went to retrieve the discarded iPhone. We hoped it hadn't been injured in the mishap.<br />
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"Call me, "he said. Sure enough, the dumpster began to ring. From there it was just a matter of determining which bag it was in. One small blessing: the dumpster was almost empty.<br />
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He had to get a short stepstool, and unfortunately, he had to physically climb into the dumpster. "Can I take a picture?" I shouldn't have asked. "If you do, I'll smash your phone." "Well, that's just mean," I responded.<br />
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Why wouldn't he want to have a picture of his leg sticking out of a dumpster posted on the Internet? Spoilsport.<br />
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In the end, he was able to retrieve the iPhone and give it a quick bath with a Clorox wipe. We washed up and headed to the fair.<br />
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But I really wish I had that photo.<br />
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TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-45495494187681117842012-07-01T15:36:00.000-05:002012-07-01T15:36:53.064-05:00You Have a Toolbox and I Don'tConversations with the grandkids are so much fun. Their vocabularies are expanding wildly, so sometimes you find yourself having a nearly-grown up conversation with them, only to be suddenly reminded that they're five. Or seven.<br />
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(back in April)<br />
Little Man: When we get home, the first thing I want to do is get into the pool.<br />
DH: The pool's too cold, buddy.<br />
LM: No, it isn't. It's not too cold, Grandpa! And if my teeth start to chatter, it's not because I'm cold--it's just because I'm jealous.<br />
TS: You're jealous? Like--what?<br />
LM: Yeah, you know--jealous. Just a little jealous.<br />
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LittleMan: Mmm--this fruit punch is yummy! What are you drinking, Grandpa?<br />
DH: Water. You should drink water sometimes, buddy. It's better than putting all that sugar in your system.<br />
LM: I'm not putting any sugar in my sister. She doesn't drink water, either.<br />
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LM: Nana, I'll put up your nail polish for you.<br />
TS: Okay-thank you, buddy. It goes in that little drawer there.<br />
LM: Nana, is this all of your nail polish?<br />
TS: Well, no. Nana loves nail polish. I actually have a bunch more.<br />
LM: Where is it, Nana?<br />
TS: Oh. Well… it's sort of in a toolbox.<br />
LM: NANA!!<br />
TS: I know--I know. Having a bunch of nail polish in a tool box is--<br />
LM: You have a toolbox, and I don't???TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-77378190357147857832011-12-26T12:13:00.011-06:002011-12-26T13:29:30.559-06:00Dumb Phone<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBWSrtMJ7h5UnbOWGX3uSD2cMdHWts6TiQsnOuXMO4Jk6JGpR1gn4gYCBH57m-AJVAxtFBPDUTBM3KDRtUs_SENMiy2yCtVxOt3bhrftmjHaZ4lDD5hSRQfuOGv1aDd9ooqtvCikpRRw/s1600/Gift.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBWSrtMJ7h5UnbOWGX3uSD2cMdHWts6TiQsnOuXMO4Jk6JGpR1gn4gYCBH57m-AJVAxtFBPDUTBM3KDRtUs_SENMiy2yCtVxOt3bhrftmjHaZ4lDD5hSRQfuOGv1aDd9ooqtvCikpRRw/s320/Gift.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690517588966909074" /></a>Two days before Christmas:<br /><br />JV: What kind of phone is that?<br />DH: It's an old LG.<br />JV: Is it a smart phone?<br />DH: Nope, it's a dumb-a** phone.<br /><br />One day after Christmas:<br /><br />DH: It's hard setting up my contacts.<br />TS: That's because this is your first iPhone. You'll never have to do it again.<br />DH: Siri, should I beat my wife?<br />Siri: I'll have to think about that.<br />TS: I'm going to Best Buy to get you a Zagg shield.<br />DH: I don't need a shield. Why would I need a shield?<br />TS: Depends on how many more times you're going to put coleslaw on your phone.<br />DH: I'm not sure a dumb-a** should be using a smart phone.<br />TS: Grandpa, don't say that.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-53181063488298551312011-12-18T17:47:00.011-06:002011-12-18T18:08:19.794-06:00Toothless WonderA couple of weeks ago, we were shopping at a Christmas store and DH, who is the world's best at finding books and toys for the grands, spotted a little book for The Fred, age 7. It was a Junie B. Jones book called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Junie-B-First-Grader-Toothless/dp/0375802959">Toothless Wonder</a>.<br /><br />The Fred, who's somewhat toothless herself these days, read about half the book to me before dinner (seems like I was reading to her just a minute ago), and we both really enjoyed it. The author, Barbara Park, grew up in New Jersey but met her husband at the University of Alabama. If you have a Toothless Wonder, I highly recommend it!TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-49414411110199423302011-12-06T21:54:00.008-06:002011-12-07T08:26:40.139-06:00Remembering Pearl Harbor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TgEBBQRRkoA2WMrlHCR7lZn3M1-eQI2PCrTeVw6vRbAuF_IkIo9InQxgvHYRK0DpLmxjWSxZ0KRJNrITsCCkiEtQ5RrDvY5HIAgQj6WnCuor77oIesyFwLdKTSNIRsDCiNL7MR8zEkI/s1600/pearl-harbor.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TgEBBQRRkoA2WMrlHCR7lZn3M1-eQI2PCrTeVw6vRbAuF_IkIo9InQxgvHYRK0DpLmxjWSxZ0KRJNrITsCCkiEtQ5RrDvY5HIAgQj6WnCuor77oIesyFwLdKTSNIRsDCiNL7MR8zEkI/s320/pearl-harbor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683392089747293906" /></a>As a young sailor, my dad was stationed at Pearl Harbor at the time of the attack on 7 December 1941, but family members always said that he wasn't on board ship at the time. Now I know why–maybe.<br /><br />This week, <a href="http://www.ancestry.com/?o_xid=21837&o_lid=21837&o_sch=Search">Ancestry.com</a> offered free searches of military records, and when I looked for my dad, I found records that seemed to confirm that he was assigned to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Sicard_%28DD-346%29">USS Sicard</a> for the latter part of 1941. My uncle thought he was at the hospital, but I don't know if that's accurate. <br /><br />Wikipedia says that the ship had entered the Pearl Harbor Navy Yard on 21 November 1941 and was under overhaul there when the Japanese attacked on 7 December. Personnel from the Sicard were dispatched to other ships to assist with returning fire on the attackers.<br /><br />I guess I'll never have a complete picture of Daddy's involvement in that awful day, but I'm glad to find bits of information, and even the ship commander's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Sicard_%28DD-346%29">report</a>, online.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-7203627431901243632011-11-03T18:38:00.004-05:002011-11-03T18:46:56.498-05:00PC Matic PeopleDH: I hate this commercial.<br />TS: Oh, the PC Matic People?<br />DH: It's just stupid.<br />TS: It's very annoying. Why did they name him Otto?<br />DH: He's a nerd and she's kinda snarky.<br />TS: I do not like these people. Where is she going for Girl's Night Out, anyway?<br />DH: They're us, basically.<br />TS: I do not like them. What?<br />DH: I'm fast-forwarding.<br />TS: You think I'm snarky? I don't even know what that means.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-46122252329823403902011-10-29T11:26:00.003-05:002011-10-29T11:33:41.886-05:00Hugh Jackman LiveDH: Now, why did you record this Jimmy Fallon show?<br />TS: Because Hugh Jackman's on it. Let's watch it and then we can delete it.<br />Jimmy Fallon: You can see Hugh Jackman / Back on Broadway . . . <br />DH: We'll be there.<br />TS (reading): What?<br />DH: We'll be there those dates in December.<br />TS: WHAT? What theater? Do they have matinees?<br />DH: I'm sure you can Google it--<br />TS: OMG! It's a block from our hotel!<br />DH: Well, now, that won't leave us much time to goof around . . .<br />TS: Got 'em!! I'm going to see Hugh Jackman Live!!<br />DH: Hmmph.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-73901985901665706832011-10-25T16:46:00.006-05:002011-10-25T17:24:38.658-05:00Creepy People of WalmartIt's not even Halloween yet, but there was a spooky dude at Walmart today. Sorry I didn't snap a photo, but, honestly, he was really normal-looking. That makes it even more spooky.<br /><br />As I was headed past the Cracker Aisle, a man with an empty cart rolled up to me and asked, "What color nail polish do you have on your toes? Is it black or blue?" "Oh, I'd say Navy Blue," I responded helpfully. If he'd been a woman, I might have added that it was from a pricey bottle of Catherine H from the "Real Housewives of the Tudor Dynasty" collection, but that was TMI. "Purple?" he queried. "Navy Blue with a little Purple, I'd say." (This is the South. We're very polite.)<br /><br />At that point, he said, "You are one good-lookin' woman." "Well, thank you, sir," I said with sincerity.<br /><br />(I say "with sincerity" because, although I was completely surprised and 99% creeped out, there was 1% of gratitude in there, because no complete stranger has talked to me like that in about 30 years. And the last one was probably drunk.)<br /><br />I decided I didn't need anything else from Walmart today, so I briskly rolled my cart in the opposite direction from which the man was traveling. I checked out in a "less than 20" line strategically located next to a couple of nice ladies in Corrections Department uniforms, thinking that they might be good company today.<br /><br />The afternoon ended without further incident, but I have to wonder . . . who are the <a href="http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/">People of Walmart</a>, and where do they come from? Really.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-78348642031283488582011-09-19T14:21:00.005-05:002011-09-19T14:33:22.377-05:00Too Much ChocolateI took the grands to school today, and there were only two things that went wrong. Well, three if you count my dream that I had a wreck in the school parking lot–but that was just a dream.<br /><br />First, Little Man (who was really good today) said I put too much chocolate in his breakfast shake (I used exactly one packet). This from the 4-year-old who, by Pappy's account, dragged a stool into the kitchen, got down the chocolate powder and was discovered sitting at the table eating it with the scooper. And I still recall the time he conned me into putting double the requisite number of scoops in his chocolate milk. He's just so darned cute when he's misleading you like that.<br /><br />Too much chocolate?? How is that even possible? It's a world turned upside down.<br /><br />And, second, I wasn't sure of the proper first-grade etiquette (do they not want public displays of affection, or does that come later), and I accidentally let The Fred (she is so independent, and so helpful) enter her school sans hugs and kisses. <br /><br />I'll fix that later.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-66493829322584642812011-07-07T22:27:00.005-05:002011-07-20T20:01:08.196-05:00Pigs in the Pokey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LSFONr0Bd6CODpbhzEIm11DH4whTwNz3fyI8vN3BPtjtAZJmMvzxLumk1w1iT0nDdlBc2_zrUX9YJS7ENDlLNZwv6dBQh-LPgOr9QEPK_aLlndxqYRuXWCH1fN-QYrF9R23jvWO-7QQ/s1600/Pigs+in+the+Pokey.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LSFONr0Bd6CODpbhzEIm11DH4whTwNz3fyI8vN3BPtjtAZJmMvzxLumk1w1iT0nDdlBc2_zrUX9YJS7ENDlLNZwv6dBQh-LPgOr9QEPK_aLlndxqYRuXWCH1fN-QYrF9R23jvWO-7QQ/s320/Pigs+in+the+Pokey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626818844696349810" /></a>How do you trap a four-legged fugitive? With a cage and some corn, apparently. This gang looks familiar, doesn't it?TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-91066146971835528332011-07-03T10:16:00.026-05:002011-07-03T15:48:35.965-05:00Pigs Gone Wild<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9HgYuwk8ldXyqQvJCON1m07abwjuAq4YvWOUy9NCHR2vdwzN9rrnrVnYuXW-_OuDVL4RC-pZSwscMRG3lgFo5JTFLNgvvci2HmpAKy7_8nPfgQT74tu3-t6EuhCSCpLoojmhhi1Y2tks/s1600/Feral+Pigs+Cropped.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9HgYuwk8ldXyqQvJCON1m07abwjuAq4YvWOUy9NCHR2vdwzN9rrnrVnYuXW-_OuDVL4RC-pZSwscMRG3lgFo5JTFLNgvvci2HmpAKy7_8nPfgQT74tu3-t6EuhCSCpLoojmhhi1Y2tks/s320/Feral+Pigs+Cropped.jpg"border="0"alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625205230488546674" /></a>Have you ever seen a wild pig?<br /><br />Think you never will? Think again; they may soon be coming to a <a href="http://www.scrippsnews.com/content/wild-pigs-found-44-states-and-counting">location</a> near you...<br /><br />On Friday, when we arrived at JV's and Dutch's house for our south Florida Fourth-of-July visit, Dutch took us on a little tour. While showing us around, she took us to us an area behind the house where pigs had been rooting.<br /><br />Pigs had been rooting? Eh?<br /><br />I was intrigued. We had already spotted a zebra grazing in a field nearby, so this trip was turning out to be more fun than Busch Gardens. And, here, we had the added suspense of not knowing: Would we see the zebra? Would we see the pigs? Would we see the woodpecker? These were serious questions.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8H-iMQblLzlUQ4cR_wtOoIKLddGnTZdKTeoXDbwmWh0EHr99NeTEK_X7EmcPJAytnZkywBJw1tCtcCTn2aWBd3pvdZuXp6JANjLcUzn3YVScM5lKbfsJiA6V-PNXAQ1tO6W_C_CuEks/s1600/Feral+Pigs+Cropped3.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 178px;"src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8H-iMQblLzlUQ4cR_wtOoIKLddGnTZdKTeoXDbwmWh0EHr99NeTEK_X7EmcPJAytnZkywBJw1tCtcCTn2aWBd3pvdZuXp6JANjLcUzn3YVScM5lKbfsJiA6V-PNXAQ1tO6W_C_CuEks/s320/Feral+Pigs+Cropped3.jpg"border="0"alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625205240772971794" /></a>I asked my in-laws, "Have YOU seen the pigs?" "No," they replied; apparently the critters came out at odd hours of the night. One neighbor reported seeing them at 4:30 in the morning. Well, I didn't want to get up that early, but I hoped the animals would be a little more accommodating so that we could get a glimpse.<br /><br />That night, as DH was about to fall asleep, I turned off the light in the den. As I was walking toward the bedroom, I heard a noise outside. <br /><br />It sounded like a pig!<br /><br />I raced toward the sound, turned on the patio light and flung open the door, and there, just a few yards away, was a small herd of pigs, maybe 5 or 6 of them, rooting away in the dirt! My presence didn't affect them at all; they were just enjoying the buffet!<br /><br />I ran in and shook DH, and he came to door and watched as I took photos. The trespassers didn't mind having their picture taken, and even though I was shooting at night with my Canon G11 digital, I was able to get some fairly decent shots.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYF1cGX8X2G5KZEDpUQ3U67suaOVp-cw6bYDCkUz18q-0W8duN7fruv5YoSwdYF0lAWHZI9PfBrAnFMTqTwTVxJ1vckEzyqky8iMjvAbhvWAnjT0KI7zkTdfol-3LQm3syflbz3f_JytM/s1600/Feral+Pigs+Cropped2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYF1cGX8X2G5KZEDpUQ3U67suaOVp-cw6bYDCkUz18q-0W8duN7fruv5YoSwdYF0lAWHZI9PfBrAnFMTqTwTVxJ1vckEzyqky8iMjvAbhvWAnjT0KI7zkTdfol-3LQm3syflbz3f_JytM/s320/Feral+Pigs+Cropped2.jpg"border="0"alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625205236752077714" /></a><br />I thought this might be a recent phenomenon, but it turns out that feral pigs were introduced to Florida by Hernando De Soto in 1539, and they've been spotted in all but 6 of these United States. (By the way, you should not approach them or the areas where they've been, because they can carry diseases.)<br /><br />So, tonight, if you hear something like a squealing noise outside, check it out; you may have new neighbors!TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-88287329372681244912011-06-12T19:19:00.004-05:002011-06-12T19:23:11.087-05:00Precision Body & PaintThe other day, a new toy arrived in the mail (oohhh . . . new tools); it was a tanning airbrush kit from Paasch Airbrush Co. I was very excited to use it with my new jug of Ocean tanning solution.<br /><br />DH: I'll change the pressure on the compressor–I don't want you doing it.<br />TS: So, you mean I've got to come get you to adjust the pressure every time I want to do this?<br />DH: You look downcast. Yes, and you're gonna have to come get me to spray you, anyway.<br />TS: I can't do it myself?<br />DH: Well, how are you going to spray your back, and the back of your legs?<br />TS: Well . . . <br />DH: Trust me; I'm a doctor. You ready?<br />TS: I've gotta put goop on my hands and feet. Here are the instructions for the airbrush.<br />DH: Don't need 'em.<br />TS: Oops--nevermind--this is the paperwork from Precision Body & Paint.<br /><br />A few minutes later:<br /><br />DH: I found a new trick; I just bled the pressure out of the compressor until it hit 20. There you go; that's looking good.<br />TS: Now, remember, the color doesn't really show up for a couple of hours.<br />DH: Oh, really?<br />TS: What was that noise? That sounded like a door.<br />DH: Oh, that's probably Two-Joke Limit.<br />TS: Two-Joke Limit's here? Why didn't you tell me he was coming??<br />DH: I forgot. What's the big deal?<br />TS: Sweetie, nobody wants to see Grandma in a bikini!!<br /><br />(later)<br />TJL: How's the new tan?<br />TS: It's great! A little warmth, a little glow. Doesn't smell. Just what I wanted.<br />DH: Yeah, you don't look quite as pasty as you did.<br />TS: Nice work, sweetie.<br />DH: It's just like spraying furniture.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-57996849770867629672011-06-12T15:54:00.000-05:002011-06-12T15:55:53.868-05:00Not Listening Can Cost YouThe day after the accident, we had one of those conversations whose tone every husband and wife will recognize:<br /><br />FRIDAY<br /><br />TS: So, when are we going to pick up the rental car?<br />DH: Oh, I'm not going to fool with that today. We'll do it tomorrow.<br />TS: We're going tomorrow?<br />DH: Yeah.<br />TS: So they're open on Saturday?<br />DH: Oh, yeah!<br />TS: On the Memorial Day weekend?<br />DH: Oh, yeah.<br /><br />SATURDAY<br /><br />Pappy: There's something wrong with the Infiniti.<br />TS: Oh, no. He thought it was doing something weird yesterday.<br />Pappy: I can't get it to start.<br />TS: Ah. So we're down to zero cars now.<br />(later)<br />DH: The Enterprise near us isn't open today.<br />Mommadrool: Here--the one out near the airport is open; we'll take you.<br />TS: So glad you dropped by!<br /><br />(still later; back from Enterprise)<br /><br />TS: Not listening to me cost you $271.00.<br />DH: Huh??<br />TS: Well, that's not strictly true, but it was fun to say it.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-40240560760586171522011-06-09T19:03:00.005-05:002011-06-09T20:25:35.132-05:00The Tipover<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglg55gLnusnSN3L-pZX59fZt6_izIce8nCg1OgFgrvDTuqdoUqb3uKVhnWMuKUjhVjDo7wUje9bwIJUkHGtIOR8WfCFJ0ByoYXGSmuuT-EjAp_YqYpRZqgNPAn5G5lcx2_lNyXWhQynF0/s1600/Trucktoon+10.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglg55gLnusnSN3L-pZX59fZt6_izIce8nCg1OgFgrvDTuqdoUqb3uKVhnWMuKUjhVjDo7wUje9bwIJUkHGtIOR8WfCFJ0ByoYXGSmuuT-EjAp_YqYpRZqgNPAn5G5lcx2_lNyXWhQynF0/s320/Trucktoon+10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616395123147895490" /></a>“Hey, sweetie,” said the voice at the other end of the line. “I was in a dumb little one-car accident, but I'm fine.”<br /><br />I'm glad I heard his voice before I saw the accident scene. When I traveled the few blocks to pick him up, I rounded the bend and saw a paramedic truck, a couple of curious homeowners and an overturned black truck. DH was sitting in a police car, giving information to the officer on the scene.<br /><br />I thought "Well, this doesn't look good," but then I noticed something else. All the paramedics were standing around laughing. That seemed like a positive sign.<br /><br />How did this happen? Well, we hadn't had any rain for a few weeks, so when some showers finally came on the Thursday before Memorial Day, the roads got pretty slick. DH was making a turn, and the truck started to skid. Instead of turning into the skid, he turned in the opposite direction to try to avoid running into someone's yard. Unfortunately, that made things worse. The little Tacoma truck spun around and bumped into the curb, and that might have been the end of the story. <br /><br />But it wasn't. <br /><br />Upon hitting the curb, the top-heavy Toyota began, ever so slowly, to tip over. It landed on the driver's side, in the yard he'd been trying to avoid, and he came to rest on top of a broken window.<br /><br />He had climbed out of the cab by the time the paramedics arrived. "Do you need an ambulance?" they asked him. "For a few scratches? H*ll, no! Do you know what those things cost? If I needed a doctor, I'd drive myself!"<br /><br />Allstate called a couple of days later to ask about his so-called medical expenses. "He didn't even need a band-aid," I responded helpfully. Yesterday he returned their latest call. "Are you going to need any medical treatment?" "Nope. The scab just fell off," he replied.<br /><br />The man at the body shop said, "That wasn't a rollover; it was a tipover."TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-9598712686277332002011-05-29T12:42:00.008-05:002011-05-29T13:02:29.946-05:00Jubilee Pops Concert a Big Hit<a href="http://www.montgomerysymphony.org/index.aspx">MSO</a>'s Jubilee <a href="http://www.montgomeryadvertiser.com/apps/pbcs.dll/gallery?Avis=DS&Dato=20110527&Kategori=COMMUNITIES010305&Lopenr=105270808&Ref=PH">Pops Concert</a> entertained and educated us with a history of music-making in Alabama from 1819 to the present. Ed Bridges provided historical context while conductor Thomas Hinds and the orchestra played "Tuxedo Junction," "Hey, Good-Lookin,'" some selections from Showboat, and a medley of Alabama tunes ending with "My Home's in Alabama." <br /><br />To the delight of the crowd–and with the help of some brave volunteers on one song–the talented <a href="http://www.arts.state.al.us/actc/compilation/sunlights.htm">Birmingham Sunlights</a> performed. Patriotic music rounded out the fun evening.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-9068976574559198192011-05-23T17:15:00.015-05:002011-05-23T18:14:23.537-05:00The Parrot Who Played the Flute<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpmqG1AlQk1r0-2wYlMcf7kbxzOX8OobI2Kvll9hjvDJOifxto6PbfdmpGGF-iM5hCcISyue7WwJT7tL2Znr7vgi7whXPaGI83tjO1xxZ1gL3MG-045oG6rYtNukmJ1ErT3eguahTPPc/s1600/LolitaSunshine029.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpmqG1AlQk1r0-2wYlMcf7kbxzOX8OobI2Kvll9hjvDJOifxto6PbfdmpGGF-iM5hCcISyue7WwJT7tL2Znr7vgi7whXPaGI83tjO1xxZ1gL3MG-045oG6rYtNukmJ1ErT3eguahTPPc/s320/LolitaSunshine029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610039445630143970" /></a>A few months after DH and I were married, we acquired a baby Yellow-Naped Amazon named Lolita. <br /><br />We named the baby bird after her mother, whom we had met when offspring Lolita was still in her shell. The breeder took us to see Lolita (the mom), and we watched as she made her way to her nest, put her head into the opening, and yelled, "Hello! Hello!" "We'll take one of those," we said.<br /><br />We (mainly DH) finished hand-feeding her, and she grew from a scruffy baby bird into a beautiful green parrot with a patch of bright yellow on the back of her neck.<br /><br />Pappy, who was maybe 9 or 10 at the time, taught her her first word one weekend; every time he walked by her, he said, "hello," and in two days, she was repeating the word. From there, she learned to whisper "good morning" when I uncovered her and "bye-bye" when we waved at her. She called all of us by name, sometimes repeatedly. "Don't you bite your mom," and "Don't you bite your dad," she warned–always good advice. <br /><br />For many years she did flute arpeggios, but in the last few years she had stopped playing the flute. When DH played, however, she loved to get really, really close to the flute and the sheet music, posturing and flashing her eyes.<br /><br />She loved spaghetti and pizza, and watching the fish in our koi pond. "Someone to Watch Over Me" was one of her favorite songs, for some reason.<br /><br />She fancied herself an opera singer, but we told her not to give up her day job. A major music fan, Lolita always entertained DH's wind quintet by tuning up with them, laughing, and trying to accompany their music a la <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiri_Te_Kanawa">Kiri te Kanawa</a>.<br /><br />I have a heartwarming memory of Little Man, age 4, standing next to her cage, repeating, "Hello!" . . . life going full circle, and all that.<br /><br />We had Lolita for about 21 years, but we suddenly lost her a couple of weeks ago. There was no warning, and she spent her last few days enjoying all the things she usually did. <br /><br />It's always hard to say goodbye to a beloved pet, and doubly so when the pet used to talk to you all day.<br /><br />I like to think she's at the Rainbow Bridge now, making beautiful music with George Gershwin.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-49214360949540145852011-02-15T20:35:00.005-06:002011-02-15T20:51:18.661-06:00The Real Reason I Have a New Verizon iPhoneThe most exciting thing happened to me this evening . . . while sitting at a traffic light, I looked at my new iPhone, and it had a message for me: Missed Face Time–Mommadrool. "Missed Face Time!" I knew what that meant: Mommadrool had a new iPhone 4, and she was trying to connect on a video call! It was all I could do to keep from speeding home.<br /><br />By the time I walked in the door and met DH in the kitchen, I had dialed up Mommadrool and Pappy, and the phone was ringing. Face Time!<br /><br />The next thing we knew, Little Man and The Fred were beaming up at us in real time, looking as pretty as a portrait and grinning from ear to ear. We talked to them, "hugged" them, and, of course, DH made ridiculous and scary faces at them and had them howling and giggling.<br /><br />There are few things in life that measure up to the expectations we had from our days of watching The Jetsons, but I have to tell you that this did not disappoint. <br />Really, I don't mean to sound like an Apple ad, but the darn thing just works! It has both a forward and backward camera, so you can switch the view at will.<br /><br />(By the way, the Roomie would want me to mention that AT&T also sells the iPhone, and they have a wonderful, fast network!!)<br /><br />"Hey, sweetie," I admitted, "this was the real reason I wanted an iPhone." "I know," he replied. "I know."TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-50276117626801323812011-01-13T18:22:00.006-06:002011-01-13T18:39:16.906-06:00The Doughnut HoleI have a problem. I want to talk about a gap in coverage that's affecting, well, I don't know how many people like me. No, I'm not talking about Social Security–I'm talking about not being able to find <a href="http://www.montgomeryadvertiser.com/apps/pbcs.dll/gallery?Site=DS&Date=20110111&Category=SPORTS0402&ArtNo=101110802&Ref=PH&Profile=1179&GID=9p+3nd/BcdyE4UZLmpxEH6v3nA4XPXlKtO+Fk2e0FEM%3D">Auburn National Championship</a> apparel for 4-to-7-year-olds.<br /><br />What's up with this? We grownups can find shirts which proclaim our school's invincibility in virtually any size and fit. Toddlers up to 4T are good to go, too–except that the "slim fit" 4T's I've located might fit an undernourished 2-year-old. But what to get for the rabid Tiger fan who turned 4 yesterday? Nada!<br /><br />Yes, there are regular non-championship Auburn shirts out there. I realize he can't read yet, but that's beside the point. After waiting 53 years for our turn, we're ready to see the evidence plastered on every available surface, and there would be nothing sweeter this week than seeing that cutie-pie decorated in new Tiger togs.<br /><br />Anybody have a solution for me?TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-74301643033626500222011-01-04T08:37:00.005-06:002011-01-04T08:47:16.330-06:00In Hot Water for 2011A couple of weeks ago¬–months ago, whatever¬–when I went to take a shower in the master bathroom, I realized that we had no hot water. DH checked the heater and called Harry the Plumber; meanwhile, we started showering in the Shop Bathroom.<br /><br />I gave HtP a key, and after he replaced the 2-year-old water heater, we had hot water. <br /><br />For exactly 2 days.<br /><br />HtP picked up the key again, and after he had a lengthy discussion with Rheem, the company okayed another new water heater. Negotiations about the mounting labor costs were ongoing.<br /><br />Luckily, we had hot water while the fam was here for the holidays, but on Christmas Eve, as they were packing to go, the water turned ice cold. Once again, HtP called Rheem, who seem to be challenging AT&T for Worst Customer Service Ever, and reported back.<br /><br />HtP: They wanted your address again, along with some other stuff. I reminded them that I was paying three people to stand around while I looked up all this information.<br />TS: So you gave them our address. And then what?<br />HtP: They had a whole list of useless information they wanted, so I just started making things up. I don’t think they’re going to pay me for the three guys standing around.<br /><br />This morning, I gave HtP the key again, and this afternoon, I met him at the house.<br /><br />HtP: I told them we need three new water heaters of a different brand—one that actually works. And I’ve been telling them how mad the customers are about not having hot water for their guests during the Christmas holiday.<br />TS: Good thing they don’t actually know us. <br />HtP: Yeah. Anyway, the other day they said they’d come out, but I talked to a different supervisor today, and she said they’re not coming.<br />TS: I don’t know if that’s good or bad. <br />HtP: And they're only paying for half the labor, because the heater's over a year old.<br />TS: Perfect. Are you gonna get another key made, or do you want me to do ti?<br />HtP: I’ll do it.<br /><br />On a more positive note, Two-Joke-Limit surprised me today by fixing our annoying kitchen doorknob. I’ll be Googling “water heater” to see if anybody still makes one that works, and I have a nice new sawdust-friendly shower curtain in the Shop Bathroom. And we’re looking forward to a day, maybe in the spring, when we’ll have hot water again.TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7540317278636290569.post-89875285230924274262010-11-14T13:47:00.009-06:002010-11-14T14:02:23.173-06:00The Hills are Alive<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGAk1jo9HJTrdmnbwQGa0YvD78GfbWLjL1V7FO8SxrcwnFIOr2T4Nn9AStKvvGHYK9aI5nk2k8MdjjTYwMR9YCAzro6RYYR89Bt_ftlEfBRfnVFY9LTprcN-ZcHE7pKIpYlYJKLkPM4M/s1600/Sound+of+Music.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 112px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGAk1jo9HJTrdmnbwQGa0YvD78GfbWLjL1V7FO8SxrcwnFIOr2T4Nn9AStKvvGHYK9aI5nk2k8MdjjTYwMR9YCAzro6RYYR89Bt_ftlEfBRfnVFY9LTprcN-ZcHE7pKIpYlYJKLkPM4M/s320/Sound+of+Music.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539497045136619874" /></a>If, like me, you're a fan of The Sound of Music, you'll like it even more (if that's possible) in Blu-ray. The <a href="http://www.target.com/s?keywords=%22sound+of+music%22&searchNodeID=1038576|1287991011&ref=sr_bx_1_1&x=0&y=0">45th anniversary edition</a> (where did the time go? is available now at Target, and right now, you get 2 DVD's and the Blu-ray version for only $19.99!TShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13609024058572159826noreply@blogger.com1