tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29864960255125056962024-02-20T08:42:15.673-05:00The Life and Times of Della HillI know I run like a girl. Try to keep up.Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.comBlogger566125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-84613351332590551152011-04-26T09:18:00.010-04:002011-04-28T21:34:28.874-04:00Another Royal Wedding Post or Why I'm Watching<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 307px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599913418823894082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtEIpPiu-5eLokDSMW7LEo0HI18kz7q9OnnJ1LwPLLa314Hxn89KNBBApwJCjhrmTv52IiLPumCLqb6-t8rvJuU8xw2XVTAtI1knqZ98sccuCQOUwPc56KAE8-ipTkAvdNP-TdNrKy7wR/s320/my_boyfriend_prince+tshirt.jpg" />
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<div align="left">I never put a pillowcase on my head and acted out my dream wedding when I was a little girl.</div>
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<div align="left">I did wear my mother's nursing cap with dreams of being a nurse one day, and I also dreamt of being a princess. So far one of these two has come true, and I am left with my childhood fantasies of becoming royalty.</div>
<div align="left">My sister managed to marry a Prince, and I did marry my Prince Charming (after kissing my share of frogs) but somehow missed out on that tiara.</div>
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<div align="left">So this brings me to my blog topic, (que the trumpets), The ROYAL WEDDING!!</div>
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</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 287px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599894930245988930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAymuDgg9b6v00BIxlR0dr5vsjQ26u8eQyZ5IPWpccegDbS-iQBPxa2YVOOkNB6lX9E-8Zn4KwoJxu91iL6nDQz35G6QMkY-C4LoDgRNIiS7DxAEtMFwQBankmXIW4aeF_bKJu6wj1ud4/s400/Prince-William-Kate-Middleton-Royal-Wedding-Invitation-1.jpg" />
<div align="left">Okay, so some of you are immediately clicking out and moving on to something that applies to our country and doesn't include an out dated, essentially powerless monarchy. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599893745592698578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTveVfYu6Fxv6B2f1hSChFnCdt9qRa1ZZ-5apzgsu4hf2hbQdhlhZ1tg94vien88zjWRKtfhc4qJo_hTqSG4OfkLgUlqaGXm_K1rBpbB0kBJMVV5YcCAIwn4WVPbcHiTqybwdmq8Vaii_/s400/prine-william-and-kate-middleton-withring.jpg" />
<div align="left">If you are still reading at this point it's because you're either a hopeless romantic like myself, or you are a family member who feels compelled to read my blog out of loyalty. And maybe both.</div>
<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 296px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599893739140635906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTrk3bGQCD8BU7RhEKUVlAl9cb2ShBCtwLVafK9KTwLC5O0MLSMBvviOgRucz3hOQl8zW9AcPGULF_k7tNVsjnxr3Q94iklejUwVdVcfOMgLln0CzWAOuIvKSB1hwGDKzDrp_VBOj7eCtr/s400/gal_royal_wedding_william_diana.jpg" />
<div align="left">I was 4 years old when my mom woke me up in the middle of the night and sat with my sisters and me on the folded out hide-a-bed to watch Prince Charles marry Diana. I remember fighting to stay awake, and I remember that everyone exclaimed about her dress and it's 25 foot long train.</div>
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I remember that the newlyweds kissed on balcony.</p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 395px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599894931418675266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwo3BbLwUzJVx1IMxgdQEqB7CQDFl3f8j5FUTx8QWSon00r432kp85ZsMnQ8bvd3bof5x9pufSJV6v47-uLay_xRbEtIqOxwH80zecNEw_TiHAY-LbjK3HjGkYBqOdI1_rmFjlc5t5F1N/s400/Princess+Diana%2527s+long+train.jpg" />
<p>I was in awe of this beautiful woman who found love and with it became a Princess.</p>
<p align="left">And I remember wishing, as a 4 year old girl, that I could be a Princess too.
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<p align="left">Unfortunately, royalty didn't go so well for Princess Diana, but she left her legacy of two handsome young men who carry her good looks and are the future of Britain's royal family.</p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599901982702222802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpq2isRz1UuvPPEN_W-l5Dn9cJQY0_g2cYkz_Q9Kh-PlRjwMvSGxRVh5q5FsUWoU2bJonT_1YwyzWE4DIEwwiM6B54J3MMXdrdLMRgIPaFMvW42j416hwNX3EXgPO1S7-sDT7P9adF-DD9/s320/diana_engagementring.jpg" />
<p align="left">And now, 30 years later, I am still enthralled with this family, these young men who are trying to have some level of normalcy by attending college and joining the military, yet carry the title of Prince, the burden of one day being King, and live in the world's spotlight.</p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 234px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599908037799717826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFi2qgf4dBYqV1b9U6Iff5CTz08u71JPj0OIRmBcxesw5mJRwmBfzlW5Hal9MPcyGTDfbjDKv-dbiFc7iVhFyWzI7S2f1-j8nrLPfTxjz1FeoWzRtIhBoPtdyCPBHZfeNsgNhy-y7kWu36/s320/william+and+harry.jpg" />
<p align="left">Enter Kate Middleton. Beautiful, sophisticated, stylish, daughter to millionaires, and (gasp) a commoner!</p>
<p align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599900801999533010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn3GSp5LSIITLZcsbENjrdc8gxNiBI317Cze-K_kLpLzR9XtzrOi7-ZZklUqcMlbSITHdwoPasIX7WAsJqRy91RfsP3DhqgVAH-eEA4gWEqHFmJpn4SGUQ3kdHV2ncnl9gdog4QAoiY_un/s400/kate_middleton+causal.jpg" /> There is a list of things I love about this couple. It was romantic that William gave her time to understand what she was getting into. She seems similiar to Diana in her simple yet sophisticated style. The couple looks adorable together. She is keeping her dress a secret until the last minute. And lets not forget that I feel more a part of it because I watched Charles and Diana's wedding 30 years ago.</p>
<p align="left">But I think what I love the most is the idea that this woman was once a little girl, who like me, probably dreamed of one day becoming a princess. And for her, the dream came true. This is the magic that makes this wedding appealing to me.</p>
<p align="left">Adlai Stephenson once said "In America, any boy can grow up to be President. And that's just the risk he takes". This is one of the things that makes America great.</p>
<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 202px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599913414674478882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc944JBVwGNjEsCm1xytIFYPsV9FCd9qzwa0VSeGK8KQgopIMSoqLD2dj0StiMOUnUCUmY4Kl9TvOfpmKL8NfPfDbzslAU9zlra_K-z7w0X2Tft_EULFsiKlyZsgeah7nH6-AEFnuqg-hT/s320/kate-william.jpg" />
<p align="left">But the happenstance, the coincidences, the glass slippers and fairy god mother that can turn any girl into a Princess, that is what makes a royal wedding, and especially <em>this </em>royal wedding
magical. At least for me.
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<div align="left"></div></div></div></div></div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-19715746560661066942010-09-06T19:26:00.006-04:002010-09-06T20:14:22.672-04:00Oops, I Did It Again, or Sorry- Gotta Run<p align="left"></p>
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<div align="left">As busy as I have been with nursing school, I had not planned on running in the Rock and Roll Half Marathon this year. I have had almost no time to exercise, much less train for a marathon, so even though the idea of missing it made me very sad, I tried to put it out of my mind and try to study.
</div><div align="left">I have had several friends, and even a few nursing instructors who were training for it. I wished them luck and told myself I would make it next year.</div>
<div align="left">One of my friends, Matt, had signed up several months ago, but tore his meniscus at Army National Guard training. He still picked up his race packet to get the t-shirt even though he knew he couldn't do the marathon.
</div><div align="left">On Saturday afternoon I asked if I could take his number and do it for him. So Saturday evening around 8:00 I picked up his race number and pinned it to my marathon shirt.
</div><div align="left">Chris told me I was crazy. I figured he was right, but 7:00 Sunday morning found me at the start line of the race with all my runner gear on and ready to go.</div>
<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513949210043639986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1F1yaAAdi0WUrpXUlZ1-r_AI_3PM_anr1nHdAFeBd_pBU4SAp4nREhOYZpeZVOIDBCnT8sMlG1qSq-zryVay5YxeCXzbqsaaOQ4DKsLEixBMkwcLI1iMP1No_W1zQxR18G_S1SYz9Q7n/s400/marathon+10+006.JPG" />
<div align="left">I knew I couldn't run it, I would have to walk. But the guy that finishes in one hour and the guy that finishes in 4 hours are both half marathon finishers and both get the same medal.</div>
<div align="left"></div><div align="left">This picture is when we are going over the bridge around mile 3. There are lots of people going up. The few that are coming toward us going down the bridge are on mile 10 and probably finished in the 1 hour 15 minute range. (They started before us).</div>
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<div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513949214589724674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNODyebzeJLLoZhqLzGaR9NX-biLHx7d8IM7Tziw84JUIC34nCT4rP809H8t9kDcEifuQvQA-5u8KyLenTWRpoo3O61qrbKSeGEFwqOST1Z8i0CqP54_lgjgkt4rRCRZf1qNyvr7iw4Rt/s400/marathon+10+007.JPG" /></div></div></div>At mile 4 I was feeling great. The timer says 1:32. I started at 0:33, so I was maintaining a 15 minute mile at that point. Not bad for walking.
<div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 298px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513949217900384178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdpeiL_XhgttjrQllfeW3b4NhwNkuunX9WB75ddtx1WUq5M91hyphenhyphenPfwJ29APZIeWbedb3nf-rfjTDuu1aMuURsxRGe1JQhpn_3kq8SwqxCp0QoM6ZeMuwEKmsMfUnZzKQPapbMdi_HI2VSY/s400/marathon+10+008.JPG" /></div>We ran under this rock and roller on Camp Pendleton around mile 8+
<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513952097413102386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiwQ1nbrBHkvdMlBL-CFSggG01iVdh3fG4csIpeDdt7Jg9ei39inZUPhTZo0SuIkmZ7ldkJXQKUvUed4jUY_v2tenN-iGaSUf7W9h0RdA4sFBBC958iNd9odBOvRIdCrrfR7XIhg2UV9_/s400/marathon+10+010.JPG" />
<div align="left"></div></div></div></div>When we made the turn onto the boardwalk at mile 12+ we got a full view of the ocean.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXaS_1V2BdewT1_jrOWxcbq075gaiJw5j7CP_GmjP1LS9jcqozS7bdILTCs02PUrhKW5tOwX9QIGd-tRjNXhj9b0qyKplOgx07V-uWQNF5NQhpebwCnfoSSl7Id3ylxP1GB_lvRQoVnvt/s1600/marathon+10+014.JPG"></a>
<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxhqYvYMxGfe-DlkpWjGk0Y8tHozs9WjQwGrYaRtiTRXYU3XW8C18h-AZQRhqLjIGCg3sWhhokXMODEAQwYW6Ver4lN6n7OzQvuOeQECNjM2z1qPc3lH0gV8NiSTLlchufJumodoZqCmZ/s1600/marathon+10+011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513952104850610930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxhqYvYMxGfe-DlkpWjGk0Y8tHozs9WjQwGrYaRtiTRXYU3XW8C18h-AZQRhqLjIGCg3sWhhokXMODEAQwYW6Ver4lN6n7OzQvuOeQECNjM2z1qPc3lH0gV8NiSTLlchufJumodoZqCmZ/s400/marathon+10+011.JPG" /></a>
The boardwalk seems like it's forever long, and even though I could see the finish line, it just didn't seem to get closer. </div>
<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513952106903169250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXaS_1V2BdewT1_jrOWxcbq075gaiJw5j7CP_GmjP1LS9jcqozS7bdILTCs02PUrhKW5tOwX9QIGd-tRjNXhj9b0qyKplOgx07V-uWQNF5NQhpebwCnfoSSl7Id3ylxP1GB_lvRQoVnvt/s400/marathon+10+014.JPG" />
<div align="left">Mile 13 is a wonderful sight. But that last 0.1 mile seems to be the longest of the whole thing.
<div></div><div>Even though I was just walking, I was still pretty tired by that point.</div></div></div>
<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu_MNYcXqrWabTCfURAv9BfCBqI9yBZmoTwNI4p6ypb2wqoSzKgruibS3Qb8siONXFAD-XHvZHch8O5Lw5_fJ2pdz5X5-LsHzFnUBUOIgJrn21iczqcM1xB7fVjXCUN8tcPZU3WzACsIKl/s1600/marathon+10+015.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513954072107220146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu_MNYcXqrWabTCfURAv9BfCBqI9yBZmoTwNI4p6ypb2wqoSzKgruibS3Qb8siONXFAD-XHvZHch8O5Lw5_fJ2pdz5X5-LsHzFnUBUOIgJrn21iczqcM1xB7fVjXCUN8tcPZU3WzACsIKl/s400/marathon+10+015.JPG" /></a>
About this point I started to run, so I could at least cross the finish line running.</div><div align="left">Even though this was my 4th half marathon, I still started crying when I crossed the finish line. And like the 3 other times, I made myself stop because I couldn't breathe when I was crying.</div>
<div align="left"> </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM55u4fLUCoRomludp1K07vfNaT0bD0_XREUfHjanJK665A26XQr8nDNpPzaMFqVK6RkILqHxPRmvAbCZ9vSYXbCqagtpTyTiuMPdAv7vFjHfxSpzspYopIPoRFpC4m8UgbtJYIHjJiOmW/s1600/marathon+10+016.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513954076459584434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM55u4fLUCoRomludp1K07vfNaT0bD0_XREUfHjanJK665A26XQr8nDNpPzaMFqVK6RkILqHxPRmvAbCZ9vSYXbCqagtpTyTiuMPdAv7vFjHfxSpzspYopIPoRFpC4m8UgbtJYIHjJiOmW/s400/marathon+10+016.JPG" /></a>
<div align="left">I always consider walking to the water and getting my feet wet, but everytime so far I have opted to just head back to the shuttle.</div><div align="left">If my mouth looks a little blue here, it's from the popsicle they handed me after I crossed the finish line.</div><div align="left">I have worn the same white shirt and the same Hill Cumorah visor for all 4 of my half marathons.
</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513954085865234242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lMMmtA_Y7F0H_CGoUR5opsO27iJgicO5j5FaoKGOKWHnF1m-GLzLVZZ5mahIpxAt4erb4eo8XRCVtq4XQi15YyPuptxWLk2npv9BZh62cXteZ2i8dWToc9HU87KuCrf4MFAaBdncxw6m/s400/marathon+10+021.JPG" />
<div align="left">I think my final time was about 3:36, which I actually feel pretty awesome about considering my complete lack of training.</div><div align="left">The only downside of doing this is that my muscles are getting even with me today. I am in PAIN. But I still think it was worth it. The pain will wear off, but I will remember completing my 4th half marathon -with NO training- forever.</div><div align="left">So who is going to join me next year? I promise we'll train better.</div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-41819602844550938602010-05-31T13:54:00.006-04:002010-05-31T14:51:56.519-04:00The Past Tense of Text or The Word of the DayAmong conversations I often hear different pronunciations of the past tense of the word "text".
<div>Some people say "I tex'd you." While others will say "I texted you." with the word having 2 separate syllables; "text-ed".</div>
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<div>In order to resolve this matter of grammar, (as I am a bit of a grammar fiend), I have spent some thought and google time studying it out.</div>
<div>Apparently, the word "text" is still not recognized by many as a verb. Most dictionaries still list it as a noun and it is only considered a verb when used as slang. Under which rule it would be most appropriate to say "I sent you a text."</div>
<div>So while we are waiting for the officials who define the English language to catch up with the people who actually use it, I have come up with the answer.</div>
<div>Most Americans text (v.) everyday, so it must have a past tense.</div>
<div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 288px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477507165485966354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbUCfKMdnCrOctfvNbn_iBaK2E4eDoOV9xzjOozl14GL9Syt9LltGbHJkGPp572-TKnnYsDGVEY1K9XVZQ-hYbbxzPlkxYbHXY2AThyphenhyphenYKWDBCszFzy8WjqIRrmbDwu7mh2MOeQIpy5XUq/s400/iphone+texting.jpg" />
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<div>Most English verbs follow one of three rules:</div>
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<div>1) Many English verbs become a different version of the word when used in past tense:</div>
<div>sit, sat</div>
<div>run, ran </div>
<div>lend, lent</div>
<div>drink, drank, etc.</div>
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<div>2) Many verbs end in -ed which is simply combined with the last syllable:</div>
<div>walk, walked</div>
<div>pour, poured</div>
<div>look, looked, etc.</div>
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<div>3) Many English verbs that ends with 2 consonants, the second of which is a hard D or T (when not following rule #1), add an -ed as an additional syllable:</div>
<div>lift, lifted</div>
<div>act, acted</div>
<div>halt, halted</div>
<div>mend, mended etc.</div>
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<div>One can assume, that when the word "text" is finally accepted as a verb, and in the mean time while it is being used at length by the American public as a verb, that it will not follow the first example and become a different version of the word ("taxt? tixt? I don't think so). </div>
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<div><strong>"Text" should instead follow other verbs such as handed, landed, gifted and sifted such as referred to in the third rule and should be pronounced "texted" (text-ed) with 2 syllables.</strong></div>
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<div>Please realize that I am not a linguist (however cunning I may be), and I am certain there are further exceptions to the rules I mentioned. If you choose to disagree with me? Fine, just go disagree with me to someone else. You might even sound smart.</div>
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<div></div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-79292200462867556042010-03-18T10:36:00.008-04:002010-03-18T11:50:56.937-04:00Tiger Mom Loves Baby Piggies or False Advertising<div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizombe952PRTRT0X2UPQup-RBtOBOyJVraBrTTB9scR8bVTh4nKv2awcx8J7_bo53EROJR5iwep6oKLdb2lDlfbbn_ZiI8eyMiXZhuC4deFbPKY3X0s5N6a7lGhigKjcP9zfEIEtFGEX5W/s1600-h/tiger+cares+for+abandoned+piglets.bmp"></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawPbreGAXHkaYhn3zpY5vEJfbfQmxh4TTSdl08nM9l5KBNCPB4btbuFQ5WgpyR8sxPYG4Ks8IBZnx9BQO9GJAM_Wx7oBSdC4jERSF7lNIhmDKnXF5mgyp3AjCDOj3RxL6RyUP4lTngkZW/s1600-h/Tiger+mother,+pig+with+bow.bmp"></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPaJ83DyKV0q5SmMFoqDqDKXGyrgu1qg6T1ajalqqkvm7EShLkrmVzsJdNdzxllJbuhxtqeQsTjfpxuqoRD9tUd10Co2ZVdodCawSUPibU2NTSyeI6ES8Xsq4CsNzkhfdcrIAopxHBYyD/s1600-h/Tiger+mom,+piglets.bmp"></a>
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<div align="left">According to an email I received the other day, there was a poor Mama Tiger in a California zoo who gave birth to tiger cub triplets. The poor cubbies died and the mother got depressed. She was failing to thrive. </div>
<div align="left">The Zoo personel felt that if she could foster some other cubs it might reinvigor her desire to live. They contacted other zoos but were unable to find any orphaned tiger cubs.</div>
<div align="left">What they found instead were a litter of piglets whose mother had died.</div>
<div align="left">The zoo personel wrapped the piglets in tiger skins and put them in the habitat with the tiger. They then waited to see if the piglets would be a treatment tool, or if they would become lunch.</div>
<div align="left">I thought this story was incredibly sweet and good blog fodder if it was true, so I checked it out on <a href="http://www.snopes.com/photos/animals/tigerpig.asp">snopes.com</a>. </div>
<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450001215448226114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpTwcNnVWlVLAmVWYuzaMhBr8XEN0DOnlpDpiJchz_wnBeGTd2xAJxVsHwd_Q9X1KLBDn2rXKjtAUYxpqlZYHltTbj6QPQlPUdrbV8VARu5t7_g0andSBUVu-iIdEkcfBKiLKIfHa86h9/s400/Tiger+mother,+piglet+cubs.bmp" border="0" />
<div align="left">Unfortunately the whole story was not true.</div>
<div align="left">The pictures were actually taken in a zoo in Thailand at the Sriracha Tiger Zoo. This zoo has more than 400 tigers and occasionally gets bored with the normal tiger habitat exhibit so they cross exhibits by putting the tiger cubs in with a mother pig or vice versa.</div>
<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450001372838021474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RMAitrN_ZehxnNVVzhxq2xH3r7yvHNSh380ds4mspwBP0Y552vhBumoArdTYTPSmAmZn9Br67We5KfaGdlzssfVYicNF9C8CMxJVZnV-vE4aBMAq4zFAH7vK9G9JTSRP21lcfUV-Y78F/s400/Tiger+mom,+piglets.bmp" border="0" />
<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450001366297528994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 334px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhel9aLcGMBj3Mi-6zYcmmdJLoVbl4usqIbXmO1Jn7hrhKVKj7ZgFz7yTr5osAuDHfbStHbF3z0clZgyb2RmUHEmLuIbHEvtqQORKGjfjXfpyypqh95PreT_2UlkvgOjX83B3xn5Cpx3Drl/s400/tiger+cares+for+abandoned+piglets.bmp" border="0" />
<div align="left">This was the case with these pictures. All the same, these pics are adorable and serve to be a sort of Lion-laying-down-with-the-lamb example.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSVdVg26Gmyx3QxDhkGlvw-sy901FFy6YTOnHXFQspDJPBR4_QoLh1QA665v4KtzofHlhlXTzkali0QNkLcBfsV7jxZiQ0A5oDqnGZQEeqG6nEHEw4hjgWzBVwBc_EKB3EgXTs29_cROf/s1600-h/Tiger+mom,+piglets.bmp"></a>
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<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450001204708994722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 279px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfgj6Jvl7EcutZHl96wu5yCCe0fvMGV-mi1zuwKyKFqSkgHVEL-xUK4IPsXFrTVEemuIFNzrbzyjrLssAKWq-elXGZh8Qq8mr8J6m-cvxRodgXEWpXQYdEN0tQy8rmGms_YEsw7wi8QtV/s400/Tiger+mother,+pig+with+bow.bmp" border="0" />
<div align="left"></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-42763909226979763422010-03-12T18:30:00.010-05:002010-03-14T09:27:53.339-04:00The Square Root of a Duck<div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7tDXFgiO8P14WcwZLRFIKF28jJPUnzUmjB674SboTaGBvz6I3liNOaSbZYm5PJkAu-jUEJ7VZaNdMfUdMojJduJARuU4rWxWqQLzULdkQyDzrlCf6GxSy-_KDKe3QuXrO-VN78U4GPgX/s1600-h/rubber+Duck.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447901673533821586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7tDXFgiO8P14WcwZLRFIKF28jJPUnzUmjB674SboTaGBvz6I3liNOaSbZYm5PJkAu-jUEJ7VZaNdMfUdMojJduJARuU4rWxWqQLzULdkQyDzrlCf6GxSy-_KDKe3QuXrO-VN78U4GPgX/s200/rubber+Duck.jpg" /></a>
</div><p align="left">Random wanderings on the internet bring up interesting findings. For example, someone on Yahoo Answers asked "What is the square root of a duck?" </p><p align="left">
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</p><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Even more interesting than the question were some of the answers.</div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">.</div><p align="left">
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See for yourself:
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Answer #1, given by Questor </p><p align="left">
</p><div align="left">D=500 (roman numeral)</div><div align="left"> </div>
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u=(.000001) (prefix of of millionth)
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C=100 (roman numeral) </p><p align="left">
K=1000 (metric system) </p><p align="left">
so </p><p align="left">
DuCK = (500)(.000001)(100)(1000) </p><p align="left">
=(5x10^2)(1x10^-7)(10^2)(10^2)(10^8) </p><p align="left">
=5x10^1 </p><p align="left">
=50 </p><p align="left">
sqrt*50= +/- 7.07 </p><p align="left">
And you may add the inverse of Duck is roasted duck lying on its back in spices and sauce. (kind of makes me hungry, what's for dinner?) </p><p align="left">
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</p><div align="left">Answer #2, given byDylan:</div>
<div align="left">Well, I'm sure you've heard 2+2=fish, so a fish=4, so the square root of fish is 2.</div>
<div align="left">Ducks and fish are closely related, they both live in/on lakes, both have 4 letters and are both part of the canine family. So the square root of a fish must be very close to 2.</div>
<div align="left">Therefore the square root of a duck is 2.2</div>
<div align="left">Dylan cites his source as: Personal experience in being a duck.</div>
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<div align="left">Answer #3, given by 3k1yp2:</div>
<div align="left">I disagree with Dylan. I have been a duck and a fish, and ducks and fish are very different. I can make blow kisses to everyone when I'm a fish, but not when I'm a duck.</div>
<div align="left">When I'm a duck I have an indescribable desire to wiggle by butt. So butt wiggling considered, and also considering that a duck has only 2 wings (unless it is a dragon duck) so... the square root of a duck must be 7.</div>
<div align="left">Yes, 7. But not seven. Just 7.</div>
<div align="left">.</div>
<div align="left">There were a few other answers given, but I felt those 3 were the most worth posting.</div>
<div align="left">Do you have a better answer? (Mike, you should take this as a direct challenge.)</div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-7450861635559165902010-03-11T17:46:00.002-05:002010-03-11T17:53:47.730-05:00OK GO!<div align="left">In a few minutes of blog surfing during a class break today I found a great video by a music group I had previously never heard of.</div><div align="left">Apparently this group, Ok Go, is better known for their videos than their music. This video is a good reason why. The song, "This Too Shall Pass" is cool, but way better for being in this video.</div><div align="left">Call the kids in to watch. You're going to want to see it more than once.</div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left"></div><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qybUFnY7Y8w&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qybUFnY7Y8w&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-12712862736064532622010-03-09T10:18:00.013-05:002010-03-11T17:54:29.929-05:00Alice in Wonderland, a Review<div align="left">
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjscoflPVbIofBSeBCo3oo7ZmDeM5eGF2xQ-pX0Hz3KeMU1gXy3-KIh3YqGL2DBZ6KGJnObimhm4y9ULcu70oq2OXXtHMs411eEvKaohxOAAau1XXLOI1KLoEwNVSavq1goHHvY99QpKuY/s1600-h/Movie_alice_in_wonderland_flowers.png"></a>
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<div align="left">I was able to see the new Alice in Wonderland in IMAX 3-D this weekend with my family.</div>
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<div align="left">My personal experience was that it was a delightful, visually delicious, modern remake of a very old story, written by Lewis Carroll in 1864.</div>
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<div align="left">This creative story has been through it's own rabbit hole of evolution since it was first told as a bedtime story. From verbal tale to book, to cartoon movie, to 3 dimensional film, this one time children's story has taken on life and adventure of it's own.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446677761321555954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzhaaRwsSjOwayUe_UnjFgqYHqRs0F_WrHFdXyJCV9m_7ThADk7_ILFF-7zauubkgV4t2ZkgJtEkokG_b3yqJcji3r4dLwbh2sh9d8EVOHPK-WTTpBrRG_OsLvRLBYHe6Ujz5HY-awi8S/s400/Alice-in-Wonderland.jpg" /></div>
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<div align="left">As with any book made into a movie, those who have been fans of Alice and her experiences in the rabbit hole for years may be disappointed by the changes in the story line and the calignosity (it means darkness, look it up) of parts of the movie. Not to say that it was gothic or had a dark mood, it just wasn't luminous and bright in every scene. If you are familiar with any Tim Burton movies you should expect that darker element.</div>
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<div align="left">Part of what made the movie so visually captivating was the changes between the bright and colorful scenes and the grayer, starker scenes. I found myself waiting anxiously for the brightness again. I have always felt that the books had a slightly dark side. I remember being terrified of the Queen of Hearts when I read the book at the age of 8. </div>
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</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446677900136288546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtH4ORzneKmx1zHkQNKroK4kDh9Bc5WZ_jjuxWXUzCY_InOk0v5kiktl1n8TkV8yQ9VX60NkQ9FGsY2Oohue5qKu5xHv8FwxNKCgBeBXQ7HRLvktMYHqmQVO8fTp6AzeGDY-hxIt2xoJ3S/s400/alice+in+wonderland,+red+queen.jpg" />
<div align="left">The characters were bold and entrancing throughout the film. Alice actually seemed a little boring to me, although she had some really great outfits. My personal favorite was the dress made out of curtains while at the Red Queen's court.</div><div align="left">(Not the one pictured below.)</div>
<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446677915930216194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzxSYcB9fPONUSsnI-N6C2UXGzjhmIcUIpKSk_3IyQr0w5hOF-CtEYRLLKIACBicPscesgL3NFwu66jW3Y6iGuqPDfOz0oKXzwlotEpHEnw33_qj-XJxnz4b9bbYmra-XjlksElzWkALK/s400/Alice+in+wonderland,+Alice.bmp" />
<div align="left">Let me clarify that I have never been a die hard Johnny Depp fan, like so many females, but in this movie, any time that he was not on screen was just not as engaging. From his first appearance as the Mad Hatter when he walks the length of the table at the tea party, to the very end when Alice bids him goodbye before returning to her world, I enjoyed the movie more when he was in the scene.</div>
<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446677910554958226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIkrTJ7HouRPGB5hHP4lESrILV_fUg1tZvaSLTUFW3DX-LFX0lBzcTNv4ArajTRq6nrV0Er7d0FOC3FInQJamgpZnNbgMGMe-DTicTisemXYS49OEwluxkrC5k4UgngyRSWmkF-vqKOUe/s400/Alice+in+wonderland,+Mad+hatter.jpg" />
<div align="left">My favorite scene in the movie was a relatively short bit where the Mad Hatter is walking through a tulgey wood with Alice on his hat and he quotes a bit from the poem, the Jabberwocky:</div>
<div align="left">"'Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimber in the wabe: all mimsy were the borogroves, and the mome raths outgrabe."</div>
<div align="left">One critical addition to the plot of this movie was the integration of Lewis Carroll's poem Jabberwocky.</div>
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<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446680359425135378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzJLBMz8_GXyjjFu-4KGc8LIpZqAy_92vHCkzQhvWV-Kxyc7pjHPGIfABBLfYvXHhKicNHOJYXbTz26JVyc0t6DFEesSgeBEaR3i9hl-nFcC8dq7SXrVEtlvA89XJ84Nz6SAkMks1Pi5f/s400/jabberwocky,+alice+in+wonderland.jpg" />
(Thanks to <a href="http://aeromental.net/">aeromental.net </a>for the picture.)</p>
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<div align="left">(You can learn more about <a href="http://dellahill.blogspot.com/2009/06/jabberwocky.html">Jabberwocky by clicking here</a>.)</div>
<div align="left">I particularly enjoyed this addition as I have always loved "Jabberwocky". I recognized that this would be an element from the first time a character referred to the "Frabjous Day".</div>
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<div align="left">With the release of Avatar a few months ago, we have entered a new generation of film making and viewing. Use of computer animation, special effects and 3-D has taken movies into not a new chapter, but a new book in film making history.</div>
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<div align="left">Movies will never be the same.</div>
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<div align="left">Many of us tell our children about the days before cell phones, not so long ago. I believe our children will be telling their children about the days when we watched everything in 2-D.</div>
<div align="left">Alice in Wonderland will be to our children what The Wizard of Oz was to children a few generations ago and moving pictures were to their grandparents.</div>
<div align="left">This movie was not just a retelling of a classic tale, it was a recreation of a story in a form never seen before.</div>
<div align="left">Even if you are not interested in Alice's plight I recommend seeing this movie, and the film Avatar if you haven't already, for no other reason than that it is unlike any movie experience you have ever had and you will be witnessing movie making history.</div>
<div align="left">Enjoy! And pour some m&ms in your popcorn just for me.</div>
<div align="left"></div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-49292935561080887632010-03-02T08:37:00.004-05:002010-03-02T09:42:23.540-05:00Fue De Joie<div align="left">In case you aren't aware, because I haven't announced it here, I have returned to college.</div>
<div align="left">I am working on my RN degree, to finally, finally reach the dream I have had for 30 years, to be a nurse.</div>
<div align="left">With a lot of studying and God's grace, I will graduate in about a year. </div>
<div align="left">I am super excited and I am really enjoying school. </div>
<div align="left">For my English class I wrote a paper that I have been mulling over in my head for about 14 years. It is about a morning and a sunrise that I witnessed when I was 18 years old and had just moved out on my own.</div>
<div align="left">This was a special morning for me. Special enough that I still remembered it clearly enough to write about it 14 years later.</div>
<div align="left">I decided to post it here for posterity and anyone else that might be interested.</div>
<div align="left">Please read, but don't steal. This is my own work and plagiarism will get you kicked out of school.</div>
<div align="left">.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444032374381887138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQjjlzmvTeUnHOn3TDQ3Gi-I7CgiNJosspgKPQaS1tRvlghYO17irod0Td_VZiG57CmRWhbNXoqaoclLyP9qD91umUb4RQ5p_fXzhMY6lBpF0bk_6mbmMcYcEqB7CTUs3DLyopczG5-Gr/s400/01_sunrise_cirrus_beautiful.jpg" border="0" />
<div align="left">.</div>
<div align="left">Fue De Joie (Fire of Joy)</div>
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<div align="left">I let out a slow breath and closed my eyes with a tired smile as I leaned against the wall by the time clock. The last 12 hours, all through the long night, had been exhilarating. It was my third shift on the OB/GYN floor and I had witnessed my first on-the-job birth. It was my second birth to be present for. Assisting my sister in her labor and delivery three years before had cemented my desire to work in L&D. After CNA classes, a volunteer internship, and countless hours of dreaming, my wish had come true.</div>
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Still smiling, I walked out of the double doors into the cool darkness of the early November morning. In the arid Southern Utah town of St. George the morning air was crisp and chilly, but not cold, as it would have been in my hometown of Provo, Utah, in the mountains far to the North where they would surely be getting snow very soon.</div>
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Walking across the blacktop of the parking lot towards my car, I rounded the corner of the sprawling five story building, suddenly revealing on my left an edge of pink and gold along the rugged black skyline in the East. I stopped in my tracks and stared at the early morning light peering over the horizon. The hints of bright color and the pulled cotton clouds low in the sky promised a beautiful sunrise.</div>
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After my long graveyard shift fatigue pulled at my body and I debated for a moment the choice of driving home to the warm and inviting bed in my new apartment. But the desire to watch the sun come up over the city that was now my home pulled harder.</div>
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The parking lot was already becoming an ant hill of people. Employees, doctors and nurses showing up for duty, and patients arriving for early procedures were already crawling in and out of the hospital doors. It seemed an unceremonious place to witness a small miracle of nature, although the labor ward had been perfect for the one I had witnessed during the night.</div>
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Folding my gazelle-like legs into my maroon Volkswagen Rabbit, I remembered the park I had just found the week before on the bluff to the North of the city. Looking again at the glowing coals on the edge of the sky, I wondered if I would have time to get to the high park before the glory of the dawn was over.</div>
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Judging that the sky just might wait for me, I pushed my gear shift into drive and pulled forward out of the lot and onto 3rd West. The avenues of my new city were dimly lit by street lamps. As the town and its roads were still new to me, I paid careful attention to the street signs as beams from my headlights bounced off of them. I drove quickly, but carefully, not wanting to miss the sunrise, or the road that would lead to the park. I found the right street and carefully maneuvered on to it. </div>
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Urging my little rabbit up the steep hill, I rounded the hairpin turn and summited the rise. Brighter now, the Eastern sky was directly in front of me. An infusion of pure white light battled for territory into the darker shell that covered the earth. Quietly creeping upward, the light overpowered the stars that dared to rest too close to the rim of the horizon, winking them into invisibility. Hints of pink, bronze, yellow and gold glistened on the bottom edge of the wispy low hanging clouds.</div>
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Excited, I turned my little, puttering car into the park and rounded the narrow lane to the parking area. This park was not a typical grassy lot with children’s playgrounds, but was a playground of a whole other sort. Intruded only by the one lane road, a few parking and picnic areas, this park was several acres of the red sandstone characteristic of “Utah’s Dixie”. Rocks, boulders, cliffs, crevices and solidified mounds of what looked like thick red pancake batter spread all around me. I parked, and wrapping my light jacket around me, hopped out of the car. </div>
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One huge boulder sat aside from the smaller cliffs. I ran to it, across and around the other rocks, the light growing behind me. At the boulder I found the crevice on the inner side, hidden from the front, that supplied hand and foot holds to the careful climber. My red scrubs and white Nikes were poor rock climbing gear, but I mounted the huge rock with a little effort. </div>
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Pulling myself up, I stood triumphantly on top of my sandstone monolith and surveyed the world below me. Beginnings of daylight just began to unveil the shadows of the wind-and-rain crafted rock formations spread around the base of my vantage point. To the South, at the base of the bluff, sprawled the city. The white temple in the middle of the town glowed among the other buildings like the beacon that it was to this town’s early settlers. If I looked carefully I could make out I-15 snaking around the neighborhoods.</div>
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To the East the sky grew more luminescent with each passing minute. The lowest edge along the mantle of the earth was electric white. Shining brass grew and spread above the white, tingeing the clouds with metallic red. </div>
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Ruler of my kingdom, I took my seat on my boulder throne facing East and watched as the conflagration before me grew. The orange ozone deepened to crimson and traveled upward, higher in the sky. Where the blush collided with the clouds new explosions of colors appeared. Purple and burgundy lined the nebula. Silver spread along the crest of the earth, shining, glistening and shouting out to the world that day had arrived. </div>
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The caliginosity over my head retreated slowly, giving way to a dark blue, then lighter, then crisp, ceruminous azure, lifted by the purple, red, bronze, and gold inferno. The stars of the firmament dimmed and disappeared one by one, as the night surrendered its grasp.</div>
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The battle of light over darkness continued in the celestial sphere as I sat above the world and witnessed the glorious rebirth. Brilliant pigments appeared not only in the sky, but in the earth below me as the nocturnal gloom crept hesitantly back like a beaten dog.</div>
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Like the infant that had entered the world just a few hours before, a new day was born. In only a few hours I had been privy to two fantastic miracles of beginning. My chest felt full of unwritten poetry; glorious, descriptive words, thoughts and ideas that had been spelled out by the incendiary vision that I felt I alone had witnessed; scripted across the plane of the heavens in better pigments and fonts than I could ever have translated into a mere humans English.
Sitting on my throne, on top of the world, surrounded above and below by the cacophonous morning, I felt invincible.</div>
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The new day had begun, not just for my city and the people who still slept in the houses below me, but for me. In a new town, my dream job, my emerging independence and new adulthood. This was my sunrise; my day to seize, my future to grasp. </div>
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I stood again on the stone tower above the world, and raised my arms to the East. Closing my eyes, I let the morning light pour over me. Bathed in the brilliance and hues of God’s palette I faced my Day. My beginning. My sunrise. My feu de joie.</div>
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Finally, the sun, following its radiant prelude, lifted majestically over the horizon. The symphony of colors emblazoned the celestial sphere all around it. The piercing light stabbed my weary eyes, and my body achingly recalled the last 20 hours I had spent awake. </div>
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I lowered myself carefully from my lofty perch and walked smiling, face to the sun, back to my car. It was the new day of my adulthood, but this day would be spent curled up sleeping in my bed.</div>
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<div align="left"></div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-45211442565749327092010-02-21T21:24:00.016-05:002010-02-21T21:47:44.863-05:00Snapshots<div align="left">All of the following are pictures that I actually took (or drew) over the past few months.</div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">Z-CoiL Pain Relief Footwear. They look funny, but they are awesome.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS7zxxCPbGATlpoJ7_6DqguvgRrYhAJpLBfCGMVHWdlrwvy2EW6vJUW9u6leNk1hZUTy37zPQyJyLsNCBA7Ypm_F7GVdEZrCLsWznvR9ahhwNvHxggVoJLCEEGtvQBkolnBDMN5yekuIVx/s1600-h/Z-CoiL+footwear.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440892959193733138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS7zxxCPbGATlpoJ7_6DqguvgRrYhAJpLBfCGMVHWdlrwvy2EW6vJUW9u6leNk1hZUTy37zPQyJyLsNCBA7Ypm_F7GVdEZrCLsWznvR9ahhwNvHxggVoJLCEEGtvQBkolnBDMN5yekuIVx/s400/Z-CoiL+footwear.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoqKT4I7EJK4wZWbtn3F1xqESAhoOHIDyknICCYQ-KlOxCIshaPMe2M3RhU6RnhVVAejv5AWpgiDiuj2Mbo8mnL0dgkikv5txNxwIjbpCwn98xfVLArKKRFlAyiCR6uSsUvpQ2NTwbL9w/s1600-h/Used+to+Care.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440892955661998242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoqKT4I7EJK4wZWbtn3F1xqESAhoOHIDyknICCYQ-KlOxCIshaPMe2M3RhU6RnhVVAejv5AWpgiDiuj2Mbo8mnL0dgkikv5txNxwIjbpCwn98xfVLArKKRFlAyiCR6uSsUvpQ2NTwbL9w/s400/Used+to+Care.jpg" /></a> Advice for Sunday.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZdATXjJwc96m56oBR8C0TC9BM8xNAjEADueehygPrHEZF5-H1toJP2cKl2FRRgdPGRIDcKm1hgdqL8eah_pLhGUz9XjRuytnl2nZLGmhGDRDGPdhxOpFe2j6G3Q4P59TCZiLa3r6a6kc/s1600-h/Sunday+activities.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440892949372895250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZdATXjJwc96m56oBR8C0TC9BM8xNAjEADueehygPrHEZF5-H1toJP2cKl2FRRgdPGRIDcKm1hgdqL8eah_pLhGUz9XjRuytnl2nZLGmhGDRDGPdhxOpFe2j6G3Q4P59TCZiLa3r6a6kc/s400/Sunday+activities.jpg" /></a>
Some of my favorite children's books.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAPstlsyPRVEx5pGZA-iJZf61fTvJRtnn9sihemLtcoHMIQ_i1148enyC29IzxbGtAU_Q3L_fuLu87OPy6NKCtUIpdoXHLrTdCxm-Ox__kwVhPs5KBVqJDNAhY2Zwm7O27HaSeTxYZDbzo/s1600-h/Some+of+my+favorite+children%27s+books.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440892940269274674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAPstlsyPRVEx5pGZA-iJZf61fTvJRtnn9sihemLtcoHMIQ_i1148enyC29IzxbGtAU_Q3L_fuLu87OPy6NKCtUIpdoXHLrTdCxm-Ox__kwVhPs5KBVqJDNAhY2Zwm7O27HaSeTxYZDbzo/s400/Some+of+my+favorite+children%27s+books.bmp" /></a>
CJ and Mark playing in a very rare snowfall.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyilJ5-MBKBZJLF8VUlLTbWA3WYjDMWcT49A4rGWsSuXRSuDC9Az8Fuu-XMImtOTfyZdjRaRIawVrFKY5seiHO93z8Wg1oJx43AWQ62tAIucFK97QZ-OM4-teG6o668y_CLso6U6H_tHtq/s1600-h/Snow+in+Virginia+Beach!.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440892440422793602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyilJ5-MBKBZJLF8VUlLTbWA3WYjDMWcT49A4rGWsSuXRSuDC9Az8Fuu-XMImtOTfyZdjRaRIawVrFKY5seiHO93z8Wg1oJx43AWQ62tAIucFK97QZ-OM4-teG6o668y_CLso6U6H_tHtq/s400/Snow+in+Virginia+Beach!.jpg" /></a>
It actually snowed 4 consecutive weekends in a row. Absolutely crazy for here.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXgRiHx3wSkaNx_Gex9Y_7mFeaoul3llk6_1-qNuYvdqed-FACFhCHVhUWEHY3g-tclcJ_1_N8z7mlzaj8MYNJEXmlEFXf0P271NcW77YMmaO5AmrLxmQ5pNfplNX1wRWAWti49VEvA5E-/s1600-h/Snow+in+the+front+yard.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440892252929124370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXgRiHx3wSkaNx_Gex9Y_7mFeaoul3llk6_1-qNuYvdqed-FACFhCHVhUWEHY3g-tclcJ_1_N8z7mlzaj8MYNJEXmlEFXf0P271NcW77YMmaO5AmrLxmQ5pNfplNX1wRWAWti49VEvA5E-/s400/Snow+in+the+front+yard.jpg" /></a>
8 inches of snow! In Virginia Beach!
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosCGyPykbTAYFNsio6JU-ok9NI9XvI4L1HPBgwpyxi3ibyOD7FEjd16J4hCdOyfpYVk5UaI3LGFMVFNrjQ9XaB0tFSBZzu6CP43Wf16wpw3U4p5HpsWGr_MWtWDI0300KmAN7BxdcEKx2/s1600-h/Snow,+8+inches.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440892243110981138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosCGyPykbTAYFNsio6JU-ok9NI9XvI4L1HPBgwpyxi3ibyOD7FEjd16J4hCdOyfpYVk5UaI3LGFMVFNrjQ9XaB0tFSBZzu6CP43Wf16wpw3U4p5HpsWGr_MWtWDI0300KmAN7BxdcEKx2/s400/Snow,+8+inches.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2v4yitq03V_wTvP2m0GUhR8nOgol08lXN2pBJ5nhYL1uxr2kV6f0EgkPlzfTidJDou-5xgLKuS1lQX8nzPYuzsLe646vAoYWFEQXvq_GqgCFpbgmEZfi8oiHqccXY66RoNIi7qJSrrYl/s1600-h/Snow+in+the+back+yard.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440892242714859938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2v4yitq03V_wTvP2m0GUhR8nOgol08lXN2pBJ5nhYL1uxr2kV6f0EgkPlzfTidJDou-5xgLKuS1lQX8nzPYuzsLe646vAoYWFEQXvq_GqgCFpbgmEZfi8oiHqccXY66RoNIi7qJSrrYl/s400/Snow+in+the+back+yard.jpg" /></a>
The piggy I disected for school.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdSIf0VBsKlr_gp0aTay4xnbV419b51jirxXapXBgieuT03vGwc8-Wd15aqBoJ2QfQI5yinPZuDmvv2JnLKqg5a9llJJH6BVHETvy3SDD4j98xQYku7yWLaUic6b_45JVArVXAHVl-L3U5/s1600-h/This+little+piggy+went+to+lab+class.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440891558147885122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdSIf0VBsKlr_gp0aTay4xnbV419b51jirxXapXBgieuT03vGwc8-Wd15aqBoJ2QfQI5yinPZuDmvv2JnLKqg5a9llJJH6BVHETvy3SDD4j98xQYku7yWLaUic6b_45JVArVXAHVl-L3U5/s400/This+little+piggy+went+to+lab+class.jpg" /></a> Poor little piggy.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhHbermLird0ohlNjr3s8RvAgVIvrF0-eE07CCIvgWt2U2F2fI6F4WAa22ha-pYE0Q5WPHgACmRGt0RkyzbCSAP7Hsul_-nyWIgeYCLzOHj46qwvgndgBQmghLDAm226xsMUstsstI4xE/s1600-h/Poor+Little+Piggy.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440891550504177506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhHbermLird0ohlNjr3s8RvAgVIvrF0-eE07CCIvgWt2U2F2fI6F4WAa22ha-pYE0Q5WPHgACmRGt0RkyzbCSAP7Hsul_-nyWIgeYCLzOHj46qwvgndgBQmghLDAm226xsMUstsstI4xE/s400/Poor+Little+Piggy.jpg" /></a>
Security FAIL!
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoD9UEDuOJ6rEJ63XqWYNfJk8mCpBsg2yGywg34hIHRivHA_70dE3ujGr_yJI_bhmwaPG3b1v_BmZN035PsDgSZe2Puil6GSjo-xsAl5A-NfrFDt7OKIX2VNy8J4YryXJDIjysMyv3m5EU/s1600-h/Security+Fail.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440891387098300018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoD9UEDuOJ6rEJ63XqWYNfJk8mCpBsg2yGywg34hIHRivHA_70dE3ujGr_yJI_bhmwaPG3b1v_BmZN035PsDgSZe2Puil6GSjo-xsAl5A-NfrFDt7OKIX2VNy8J4YryXJDIjysMyv3m5EU/s400/Security+Fail.jpg" /></a> Think about it.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7dHIjeOSZioX3jo5c17ysPi9xQgeuanIzvk5kcMJII-DUbIZtBXuiZpdY0IHavMVx47UhSnFby4akVvAAkFff-jCFh3lY6AqyUez9yvBNWvpyeB49MdZYLF_BnR0XJR6LIvwf-pGMnSH/s1600-h/Poop+Magnet.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440891048197616226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7dHIjeOSZioX3jo5c17ysPi9xQgeuanIzvk5kcMJII-DUbIZtBXuiZpdY0IHavMVx47UhSnFby4akVvAAkFff-jCFh3lY6AqyUez9yvBNWvpyeB49MdZYLF_BnR0XJR6LIvwf-pGMnSH/s400/Poop+Magnet.jpg" /></a> Pony ride.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoWklGT6jLKWCtJhLCcdefbe-DjnAe_0HNkm2zav4eS_7QRmCoWO5i4xP_DlkX8j6pS66Sq0zspBu1_tD2YHJcqMyGX8tXGJGMpoY0IEqjxk5_Ss4Ivx43tJP2R4ECgFV2_J62gDm8gXex/s1600-h/Pony+ride.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440891043003060242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoWklGT6jLKWCtJhLCcdefbe-DjnAe_0HNkm2zav4eS_7QRmCoWO5i4xP_DlkX8j6pS66Sq0zspBu1_tD2YHJcqMyGX8tXGJGMpoY0IEqjxk5_Ss4Ivx43tJP2R4ECgFV2_J62gDm8gXex/s400/Pony+ride.bmp" /></a> 2 dropperfuls of Purecap make for some hot chili.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnz-uC7ykJK8yzhH6Pk6X7M_PGL-2CbXapc_405ZVYn6ufFNQ4X5i3RuOJLP2TuWwdR4hnmlJSIPlKgpxconfomX6vMO0UN8tdcRrAe1MDLxaGA-z7DdUv-t2msNLdjiacv5C5_LHttUA/s1600-h/Pure+cap+chili+Hot!.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440890342478375746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnz-uC7ykJK8yzhH6Pk6X7M_PGL-2CbXapc_405ZVYn6ufFNQ4X5i3RuOJLP2TuWwdR4hnmlJSIPlKgpxconfomX6vMO0UN8tdcRrAe1MDLxaGA-z7DdUv-t2msNLdjiacv5C5_LHttUA/s400/Pure+cap+chili+Hot!.jpg" /></a> I won the Pepto Award for the hottest chili. But they liked it!
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKC-X-8PfM0YAjSoNGFW9z4zCFvBjK2MYUueod5Y-MeppFwoXyfEGjzpNbsF3DAKQiGSFuxhNYpPgvIQOmVlB-zR3pEzr-Lvft8DzQZM3PxlizrbVVWn9Oxyvb3p3rgrflIDOzatWSfOsU/s1600-h/Pepto+Award+for+the+hottest+chili.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440890335552993874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKC-X-8PfM0YAjSoNGFW9z4zCFvBjK2MYUueod5Y-MeppFwoXyfEGjzpNbsF3DAKQiGSFuxhNYpPgvIQOmVlB-zR3pEzr-Lvft8DzQZM3PxlizrbVVWn9Oxyvb3p3rgrflIDOzatWSfOsU/s400/Pepto+Award+for+the+hottest+chili.jpg" /></a> Norfolk Used Tires, a great place for cheap tires.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACqD-90EgsBgrBx7vnKrvtqBP100ggQDhuneoFIuEw09RBHWCe0mGV_TD_gpmbwEByNfc8d5uwMXEKnzb3st5I3_iSLAWwnw6Ankk0xU6OSKKO7ci9zynMuoEfeYrk3smum4BHgpgeS68/s1600-h/Norfolk+Used+Tire+Shop.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440890327900679522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACqD-90EgsBgrBx7vnKrvtqBP100ggQDhuneoFIuEw09RBHWCe0mGV_TD_gpmbwEByNfc8d5uwMXEKnzb3st5I3_iSLAWwnw6Ankk0xU6OSKKO7ci9zynMuoEfeYrk3smum4BHgpgeS68/s400/Norfolk+Used+Tire+Shop.bmp" /></a>
Mark wasting my tape, lol.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIHRZmDu9e09mYdqVqMfJXrdDfo5ZiAbcZPdchdyra7XO1wLwjY-xEVKz1OjGQYurUbOMfSnmYQCXRb57vHNO-ZxOT1f0kEeqedaT7ByJMvb_2qhqtlfH-ssrLPuAHdnJyfRCdpBBqaRA/s1600-h/Mark+with+tape+on+his+face.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440889251858538098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIHRZmDu9e09mYdqVqMfJXrdDfo5ZiAbcZPdchdyra7XO1wLwjY-xEVKz1OjGQYurUbOMfSnmYQCXRb57vHNO-ZxOT1f0kEeqedaT7ByJMvb_2qhqtlfH-ssrLPuAHdnJyfRCdpBBqaRA/s400/Mark+with+tape+on+his+face.jpg" /></a> Cultures I grew at school.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyWvWHp9-2XHoaGNIzj3TNbjnerjqPg2OZ5_JGW3VvsQTLePlUTkFqDSkmhaCtWqEvI75DFTB3QkDigKUxy3eMJdXzNHpSZWmGI6T1uvyj2O3f3QWXMYh0KxI7bCSc1NFsklJrdd9ccNr/s1600-h/live+cultures.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440889245199389746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyWvWHp9-2XHoaGNIzj3TNbjnerjqPg2OZ5_JGW3VvsQTLePlUTkFqDSkmhaCtWqEvI75DFTB3QkDigKUxy3eMJdXzNHpSZWmGI6T1uvyj2O3f3QWXMYh0KxI7bCSc1NFsklJrdd9ccNr/s400/live+cultures.jpg" /></a>
Lamborghini
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9F1ADmL8E24ERDCJOCSnU_lwaOhcA9p3_GWuXb4QG60Vpnk_A6aaEqDVigc9nRmQ2VEKY0WdCIfTrfP3yLNjquRE9SOyPrTyRtkztOkrGpj5VMhM1vIDhzYAruqsuLuZvEkh4at9ta53_/s1600-h/Lamborghini.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440889242130309970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9F1ADmL8E24ERDCJOCSnU_lwaOhcA9p3_GWuXb4QG60Vpnk_A6aaEqDVigc9nRmQ2VEKY0WdCIfTrfP3yLNjquRE9SOyPrTyRtkztOkrGpj5VMhM1vIDhzYAruqsuLuZvEkh4at9ta53_/s400/Lamborghini.jpg" /></a>
Seriously? "Kiss" Mr. Potato Head.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikyCVGKFZvEnkyFC0gH3Y0l0WDQdMJPw9-J8QrTdBFxm6ly7J4dGl1LSa7lvV0V0tsV2XahBA94RillUKjurc72qJQrPkLTfpTlAtyydmP506Vt3FECg3XuNImyvBK6AgtRhekQeH9HbFt/s1600-h/Kiss+Mr.+Potato+Head.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440889097705593810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikyCVGKFZvEnkyFC0gH3Y0l0WDQdMJPw9-J8QrTdBFxm6ly7J4dGl1LSa7lvV0V0tsV2XahBA94RillUKjurc72qJQrPkLTfpTlAtyydmP506Vt3FECg3XuNImyvBK6AgtRhekQeH9HbFt/s400/Kiss+Mr.+Potato+Head.jpg" /></a>
How I eat m&ms
<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3DW-3_0f48WdeGC4326zCX_8ufi17Ms8O_UIJybtbL_kAreRfrtGCxxVsgowlsJ9_-j3nrfnRSN9e3nz-DusnINMThLr1jZXAXghvRlzwa6ZmWeD76mkNWFOTgmEK5i59n0BWQfuFVrQ8/s1600-h/How+I+eat+m%26ms.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440889090045739714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3DW-3_0f48WdeGC4326zCX_8ufi17Ms8O_UIJybtbL_kAreRfrtGCxxVsgowlsJ9_-j3nrfnRSN9e3nz-DusnINMThLr1jZXAXghvRlzwa6ZmWeD76mkNWFOTgmEK5i59n0BWQfuFVrQ8/s400/How+I+eat+m%26ms.jpg" /></a>
Geotracks!
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZKlY6gDPZ5O9bU7Aoi1DLhfRgM_K52-zdXvYl6gLNvxnYHKirzIpLgQGC5e5V6Y6mxWZUmbIOBfGIg8tEyK0hLvDQ5k83IfnuKilbDSJqQ0txMutRiggHPR_VvWUfaM4u84q3SBPh_k0/s1600-h/Geotracks.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440889086095300082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZKlY6gDPZ5O9bU7Aoi1DLhfRgM_K52-zdXvYl6gLNvxnYHKirzIpLgQGC5e5V6Y6mxWZUmbIOBfGIg8tEyK0hLvDQ5k83IfnuKilbDSJqQ0txMutRiggHPR_VvWUfaM4u84q3SBPh_k0/s400/Geotracks.bmp" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCnbB9mwUEaJ-q4hYLhZUXs9Hyn47PW3clGrOLyEOv07SXuVI2IjH_ivIjL2kNNV8wZgoZyTMvr6g4S2FHTKeIZoYWYJrrW_EgPIiJ3D13C6l40YdFehZK7pSdOPb0u-BjUqJqircRPJv/s1600-h/Friend.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888909365332418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCnbB9mwUEaJ-q4hYLhZUXs9Hyn47PW3clGrOLyEOv07SXuVI2IjH_ivIjL2kNNV8wZgoZyTMvr6g4S2FHTKeIZoYWYJrrW_EgPIiJ3D13C6l40YdFehZK7pSdOPb0u-BjUqJqircRPJv/s400/Friend.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD43lpsDGEHAGkK8r8KGz3RKFJaTBMuY8yFh5sMIa82HNbH-09gfPcJcRoL7I6uay65BCsg1R17xnlRwfxUkpu2fLcbDYgKfBtuDCAXnNd6A1wwAwyK3vaiaE8E09-oR5JvUHwImwPe4V8/s1600-h/Best+Friend.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888897423504434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD43lpsDGEHAGkK8r8KGz3RKFJaTBMuY8yFh5sMIa82HNbH-09gfPcJcRoL7I6uay65BCsg1R17xnlRwfxUkpu2fLcbDYgKfBtuDCAXnNd6A1wwAwyK3vaiaE8E09-oR5JvUHwImwPe4V8/s400/Best+Friend.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGhngLsn5nGMQZ9X7jrrb2UU8t67sUWJJtdUY_D9JMYN_YufabfLCit5SxA58uMekLAH_8APcwSLOG2-GgXELlVJECK3WJm14dPl-Huxc71EdEloWB_ttgMKFLYf15m5MlsXlIekJXWNa/s1600-h/Friend.jpg"></a>
Sam, pretending to be someone she's not.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUY59xteEbxb1nT_Kj4kWhuOpRRsDLgJSujrDC7O87pvT10hbBsi4AWhm9zw4rrgTnbZJEEzsJi7kE3WFLvlmRt9kawouCcgLYiBzKkQ3rIcEoeGUc72ARyygPzdp16tH3DZQAJKj3BNGi/s1600-h/Dog+in+a+wig.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888520930206354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUY59xteEbxb1nT_Kj4kWhuOpRRsDLgJSujrDC7O87pvT10hbBsi4AWhm9zw4rrgTnbZJEEzsJi7kE3WFLvlmRt9kawouCcgLYiBzKkQ3rIcEoeGUc72ARyygPzdp16tH3DZQAJKj3BNGi/s400/Dog+in+a+wig.jpg" /></a>
Chris wrestling with the boys
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuCMuGPAcT7RpDKeI65qj9CuJnopkx60GiC2h6hwduTDz2xxh-mgaT2ljWCbtx1URsZUdQb5I0AB3RWA93dI7-FpWNMYCCjVViQqzyN6TfTP4Hc0Tj0OKkgItkGXxpwHUsESiUDbqy4kM/s1600-h/Dad+and+sons+playing.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888511236308274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuCMuGPAcT7RpDKeI65qj9CuJnopkx60GiC2h6hwduTDz2xxh-mgaT2ljWCbtx1URsZUdQb5I0AB3RWA93dI7-FpWNMYCCjVViQqzyN6TfTP4Hc0Tj0OKkgItkGXxpwHUsESiUDbqy4kM/s400/Dad+and+sons+playing.bmp" /></a>
Chris and Mark napping
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99wL1jX_OjDDDaZn7-HDqm3anyGkgrg9l96M4cLI4zwHFhmvos44osbXHvzH7WzQDboOYi4RMMUzqoMnO0kC3FOQobPHpiBWqdlnVIl2a0SkgCH6RrHymTcfDjud5PxTgVGLLl0RFSYG3/s1600-h/Dad+and+Son+napping.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888366985685506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99wL1jX_OjDDDaZn7-HDqm3anyGkgrg9l96M4cLI4zwHFhmvos44osbXHvzH7WzQDboOYi4RMMUzqoMnO0kC3FOQobPHpiBWqdlnVIl2a0SkgCH6RrHymTcfDjud5PxTgVGLLl0RFSYG3/s400/Dad+and+Son+napping.jpg" /></a>
Cozy fireplace
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmW2vmhyphenhyphenEtqTdO9YiOP5roW28ivgxLZgiHcW1VliYmQyWh2qAxNPe2SXrRiaHLxYx5Aq4IIjKbj_jDlsvpjbCdGmjHdhaminG9PQjPXTWZvQDirZRTHEMrtJaTvjJ2zW4relTnn2iSDCop/s1600-h/Cozy+fireplace+on+a+snowy+day.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888364621560546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmW2vmhyphenhyphenEtqTdO9YiOP5roW28ivgxLZgiHcW1VliYmQyWh2qAxNPe2SXrRiaHLxYx5Aq4IIjKbj_jDlsvpjbCdGmjHdhaminG9PQjPXTWZvQDirZRTHEMrtJaTvjJ2zW4relTnn2iSDCop/s400/Cozy+fireplace+on+a+snowy+day.jpg" /></a>
Mark (Joseph in the maroon robe) and CJ (Shepherd in the red t-shirt) in the Christmas Pageant.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHMsKegyrCZBsqh_AwRWjZiB7mgw5stEQX3-5PzVLaVnXoQ5rcjP7_mF0RSqDI1TPxTgv-2xMPhHZaZOxx9jW9PHrrw833BnbF0wVXlDg51fW2vo8HVZmOhgYAbsEE15r0acoD58gaBLK/s1600-h/Christmas+pageant.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888359491175938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHMsKegyrCZBsqh_AwRWjZiB7mgw5stEQX3-5PzVLaVnXoQ5rcjP7_mF0RSqDI1TPxTgv-2xMPhHZaZOxx9jW9PHrrw833BnbF0wVXlDg51fW2vo8HVZmOhgYAbsEE15r0acoD58gaBLK/s400/Christmas+pageant.jpg" /></a>
Mark eating cotton candy
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2t0QXcnTHolTdbxeddvFmGo5lPcKXMmj5x8itd_TLHAgCDK_yuWeKw9rkq-dFBGxzxOPIp1rN1Sr4TPa48zauZqBBMIQn15wF-aRa_fXoah8DKYtudOrA9cYWxErY7CSZVQxywyiE4dm/s1600-h/Child+eating+cotton+candy.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888208765344786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2t0QXcnTHolTdbxeddvFmGo5lPcKXMmj5x8itd_TLHAgCDK_yuWeKw9rkq-dFBGxzxOPIp1rN1Sr4TPa48zauZqBBMIQn15wF-aRa_fXoah8DKYtudOrA9cYWxErY7CSZVQxywyiE4dm/s400/Child+eating+cotton+candy.bmp" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscIdVtERAb_LS9P5fREFdLWMaDXjL5Z7gKr1m2azDBaL9A97rVgU5RXfqZYlQXHITV5vMaUrdPo_3msj6jmWOGFKLGcjaKXx6MwTIcNXicJbSIYejdMFc5McbGXn93gdYSMSTx-IzC5X-/s1600-h/Best+Friend.jpg"></a>
Arlington National Cemetary on Veteran's Day, 2009
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiELLNKXd3VB6kRFOJ_KmdT0s-YJgPtcrqvTEGhVrn5mrIXtdoIt57YGib8Hax_-GDcLappmYWAD60tg1KOA3pgmELMIhjhTeuhXYJFtahUegWCvnSB_zxoc5WQXi3BtZ9AQMfaBoVFB9m/s1600-h/Arlington+National+Cemetary+on+Veterans+Day.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888194377990706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiELLNKXd3VB6kRFOJ_KmdT0s-YJgPtcrqvTEGhVrn5mrIXtdoIt57YGib8Hax_-GDcLappmYWAD60tg1KOA3pgmELMIhjhTeuhXYJFtahUegWCvnSB_zxoc5WQXi3BtZ9AQMfaBoVFB9m/s400/Arlington+National+Cemetary+on+Veterans+Day.bmp" /></a>
<div> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-13599160862122879232010-01-12T21:24:00.005-05:002010-01-12T21:42:02.440-05:00Lion Cheetah Woods<div align="left">Yeah, it's time for a new post. </div>
<div align="left">Here ya go.</div>
<div align="left">.</div>
<div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426048629371709490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcp_6v4nD0nOCdLMsdVFEerC6aXsAb8kt8NEFENn_xjp8ZVefPz4L-h7ZgJWNPyghIIz6w7qlMHhyphenhyphenKmAJNSeLU6jMEyiVzs6Sdda3i7oDgMhe8Cm4JdEi9j3L9FH_ApbNpMY4jOV07UNQC/s400/Broke+Black+Golfer.jpg" /></div>
<p>.</p><p>Tags: Tiger Woods, Lyin' Cheeta' Woods.</p>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-17001770933913176762009-08-14T19:47:00.006-04:002009-08-14T20:06:53.357-04:00Go Della! It's your Birthday!Hey ya'll.
<div align="left">It's that time again. </div><div align="left">The day of year that I get whatever I want and I'm the most special person for one whole day.</div><div align="left">At least kind of.</div><div align="left">At the very least I get Cajun Chicken Penne (my favorite!) for dinner, and my family sends me loving videos like this one:</div><div align="left">(Click <a href="http://sendables.jibjab.com/view/Btt2aOtaM95eChT9">>>>here<<< </a>if it doesn't load).</div><div align="left">. <div style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #e9e9e9; WIDTH: 425px"><object id="A64060" data="http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=Btt2aOtaM95eChT9&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab" width="425" height="319" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" wmode="transparent"></object><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN-TOP: 6px; WIDTH: 435px">Try JibJab Sendables® <a href="http://sendables.jibjab.com/ecards">eCards</a> today!</div></div></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><div style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #e9e9e9; WIDTH: 425px"></div></div><p></p><p></p><p>They also write on my facebook pages and write things like this:</p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Happy Birthday, oh Happy Birthday.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Hate and envy in the air.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">People dying everywhere.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Still we want to wish you:</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Happy Birthday.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">One year closer to the grave,</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">think of all the food you'll save.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Still we want to wish you:</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Happy Birthday.</span></strong></p><p>.</p><p align="left">And though it may seem odd, these things truly make me feel loved.</p><p align="left">:D</p><p>.</p><p>Happy Birthday to Me!</p>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-72214955669371302342009-08-05T15:57:00.005-04:002009-08-05T16:15:52.161-04:00"Peanut Butter Jelly Time!" or "Another Cool Song"<div align="left">I seem to be eating a lot of sack lunches lately, which tend to consist of a lot of Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches and Cheetos. </div><div align="left">
I take my variety in trading out regular Cheetos for Flaming Hot Cheetos. </div><div align="left">
But I stick with Crunchy peanut butter over creamy. Hey, if I'm eating the same thing all the time it should at least be fun to chew. </div><div align="left">
</div><div align="left">I have found that while I prefer Strawberry jam on my fresh baked bread, when it's smooshed against Peanut Butter, it doesn't really matter what flavor it is as long as its sweet and fruity. </div><div align="left">And grape jelly is way cheaper.</div><div align="left">For some variety in my lunch, (or dinner as the case may be with my night classes), I bought a jar of whole pickles today that I can zip up in a plastic bag and throw in for some extra tangy crunch, (which I will eat separately from the sandwich in case you were wondering).</div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">In order to better share my enjoyment of PB and J, I invite you to view the following video. Performed by Inside Out A Capella, and arranged by somebody with too much time on their hands.</div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><object width="500" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wOfmqCuEtR4&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wOfmqCuEtR4&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="405"></embed></object>
<div align="left"></div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">Inside Out A Capella is a really cool group that also sings a lot of primary songs and a few about snowmen. </div><div align="left">Totally worth a youtube search.</div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-25808293387191795732009-08-04T07:13:00.009-04:002009-08-04T07:25:19.058-04:00"Just Out Today" and "More Weird Al"Two times now Weird Al has gotten together with >><a href="http://cts.jibjab.com/t/17949/2024254/389/0/">JibJab</a><<. The newest one was released today. <div align="left">It's about Charles Nelson Reilly.</div><div align="left">You saw it here first.</div><div align="left">
<div style='background-color:#e9e9e9; width: 425px;'><object id='A64060' quality='high' data='http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?templateID=203323&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab' pluginspage='http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' wmode='transparent' height='319' width='425'><param name='wmode' value='transparent'></param><param name='movie' value='http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?templateID=203323&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab'></param><param name='scaleMode' value='showAll'></param><param name='quality' value='high'></param><param name='allowNetworking' value='all'></param><param name='allowFullScreen' value='true' /><param name='FlashVars' value='templateID=203323&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab'></param><param name='allowScriptAccess' value='always'></param></object><div style='text-align:center; width:435px; margin-top:6px;'>Try JibJab Sendables® <a href='http://sendables.jibjab.com/ecards'>eCards</a> today!</div></div>
</div><div style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #e9e9e9; WIDTH: 425px"></div>
<p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p align="left">.</p><p align="left">And if you're not scared off already, here is the other Weird Al, JibJab joint work.</p><p align="left">I think I've posted it before, but it's good enough to watch again.</p>
<object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fk8egz_yXL0&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fk8egz_yXL0&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-74428236975844757432009-08-02T16:53:00.001-04:002009-08-02T16:53:42.230-04:00My new favorite movie line:<br>"Yippee Kayay, coffee maker!"<br>From G-Force, the movie about special agent guinnea pigs. <br>Yes, really.Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-51495960305556198922009-07-26T21:21:00.002-04:002009-07-26T21:31:01.932-04:00"More Weird Al" or "Something to Post in the Meantime"<div align="left">This video is from a song Weird Al did as a parody to the Backstreet Boys' "My Way".</div><div align="left">I heard once that Ebay had a big conference where they hired Weird Al to sing this and the Backstreet Boys to sing back up for him.
.
</div><p><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HYokLWfqbaU&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HYokLWfqbaU&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object></p><p></p><p align="left">Good Old Al didn't think he had messed with enough online service sites, or mimicked enough bands, so he had to write this one about Craigslist.</p><p align="left"></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>
<object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4wlxnOTvJNo&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4wlxnOTvJNo&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object></p><p> </p><p align="left">In case you don't know, he is mimicking Jim Morrison and "the Doors".</p><p align="left">Thanks for checking back in. I'll be back soon. Promise.</p>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-55553914091517773412009-07-15T17:55:00.004-04:002009-07-15T18:07:59.008-04:00"Search My Blog" or "Does Everyone Know This But Me?"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUpd2ZoDtF6qkqVvDR1slk1nkLVXoTTJ3mzobR7CX28PaaKsNZjkH4V4UzDk7TZbGnmOZRWkncrCSImTfRBTqSdRZC6QhGSkFfL977Ntvs5-2TqeB37VQe4-VvBgYa7bBEPI3gEsODFNt/s1600-h/magnifying+glass.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 198px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358811975548555570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUpd2ZoDtF6qkqVvDR1slk1nkLVXoTTJ3mzobR7CX28PaaKsNZjkH4V4UzDk7TZbGnmOZRWkncrCSImTfRBTqSdRZC6QhGSkFfL977Ntvs5-2TqeB37VQe4-VvBgYa7bBEPI3gEsODFNt/s200/magnifying+glass.gif" /></a>
<div align="left">I have been thinking about trying to find an addon for my blog that would allow people to search all of my blog posts.</div>
<div align="left"></div>
<p align="left"></p>
<p align="left">Like a blog search engine.
</p>
<p align="left">.
</p>
<p align="left">Then I realized there already is one.
</p>
<p align="left">Do you see that little box in the top left hand corner of the page? Right above the "The" from the blog title, and right next to where is says "search blog"?
</p>
<p align="left">Let's say that you wanted to look up the blog post where I listed 100 Chuck Norris jokes, or wanted to laugh again at my "maternal instinct" pictures, or wanted to reread the comments from my controvesial post about nutrasweet and diet soda, or maybe you are fairly new to my blog and wondered if I ever posted my Christmas Wish List, just type the topic into that little box, click enter and the marvelous power of the blog will reveal to you everything you wish to see, so long as I ever posted about it.
</p>
<p align="left">.
</p>
<p align="left">I dare you to try it and leave a comment about what you found.
</p>
<p align="left">.
</p>
<p align="left">Did you know you could do this? Am I seriously the only one who didn't know? </p>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-1985957962196607152009-07-13T11:28:00.003-04:002009-07-13T11:38:54.940-04:00"Happy Anniversary" or "How Blessed Am I?"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJZI96NMiMhB_zgRpwE0a6Su22aM4jRiBiFy7vMI6pHaCWCQ8ooOsBbCliEMNsXvtjPHTXG_wWflECEWo_OpJMtwYAQCjCJzqelGk7ip9RAbCS3oNLO2V6v7XGoqacUgluNF8aW3G_NWV/s1600-h/Mom_and_Dad+in+the+stocks"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357968041294737282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJZI96NMiMhB_zgRpwE0a6Su22aM4jRiBiFy7vMI6pHaCWCQ8ooOsBbCliEMNsXvtjPHTXG_wWflECEWo_OpJMtwYAQCjCJzqelGk7ip9RAbCS3oNLO2V6v7XGoqacUgluNF8aW3G_NWV/s400/Mom_and_Dad+in+the+stocks" border="0" /></a>
<div align="left">My Parents celebrated their <strong>42nd</strong> wedding anniversary this week.</div><div align="left"> </div>
<div align="left">That's about two thirds of their lives that they spent with each other. </div><div align="left">I know that they have benefitted beyond what I can even understand by being part of a happy, loving marriage.</div><div align="left">But I have to point out that I have definitely been blessed by their marriage as well.</div><div align="left">Mainly, I was born to a mother and father who wanted me and loved me.</div><div align="left">I was raised by loving parents who taught me, nurtured me and provided for me, and taught me God's gospel.</div><div align="left">I have never known the pain of divorce close to me.</div><div align="left">My parents are still together and still there for me whenever I need them. (Even though they are almost never home).</div><div align="left">I love my parents and I am so happy for them.</div><div align="left">42 years down and eternity to go.</div><div align="left"><strong>Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad.</strong></div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">If you would like to read the post I wrote for them last year <a href="http://dellahill.blogspot.com/2008/07/how-to-stay-together-for-41-years.html">>>>click here<<<. </a>It'a pretty good one.</div>
<div></div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-20639834506960061292009-07-10T17:38:00.003-04:002009-07-10T17:42:20.058-04:00"A Tribute to Grandpa" or "Here, Mom. It's Finally Done"<div align="left">About my Grandpa</div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">
</div><div align="left">
I have been asked to write a tribute about my Grandpa.
</div><div align="left">I have been putting it off, partly because I am by nature a procrastinator and partly because I couldn’t decide what to say.
</div><div align="left">You see, my Grandpa was such an amazing man that there is simply too much to talk about.
</div><div align="left">I have so many memories of him. </div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">
</div><div align="left">I was blessed to be able to grow up only a few minutes from him, so I got to see him a lot.
</div><div align="left">Here are some of my simple memories:
</div><div align="left">Grandpa hammering a nail through a coconut so I could drink the milk.
</div><div align="left">Grandpa putting my bike together that I got for my birthday.
</div><div align="left">Grandpa pushing wheel barrows of dirt out of our basement so we could have more room.
</div><div align="left">Grandpa coming over for dinner on Sundays.
</div><div align="left">Grandma feeding Grandpa when both of his arms were in casts from breaking them while playing street football with neighborhood kids.
</div><div align="left">Talking with Grandpa about serving in World War 2.
</div><div align="left">Grandpa telling stories in Uncle Randy’s backyard about his favorite horse. </div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">
I could go on and on, but let me share a few more specific memories.
</div><div align="left">When I was little Grandpa would greet me, and very often my best friend Holly by saying “Hello Fred”.
</div><div align="left">She or I would answer “That’s not my name!”
</div><div align="left">He would respond “Oh, I’m sorry George”.
</div><div align="left">We would say “No, I’m not George”.
</div><div align="left">This game would go on for a few minutes until he finally admitted to knowing who we were and giving us a hug.
</div><div align="left">10 or so years later, after I had moved out, my good friend Holly went to see my mom. She was there visiting when Grandpa showed up.
</div><div align="left">She was excited to see him, and he was excited to see her as they had not seen each other in a few years.
</div><div align="left">He said to her “Little Holly? Is that you?”
</div><div align="left">Holly’s face fell and she answered him, “No Mark, it’s me, Fred!”
</div><div align="left">They both laughed as they hugged each other. </div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">
Another more recent memory happened only a few years ago.
</div><div align="left">I was in Provo visiting and my Mother had not been able to get a hold of Grandpa. She asked </div><div align="left">me to drive to his house to see why he wasn’t answering his phone.
</div><div align="left">I found him in his garage building shelves. He hadn’t heard his phone ringing from where he was.
</div><div align="left">I stayed and visited with him for a while.
</div><div align="left">While I was there I noticed that his couches, which I knew he had had for a while, still had the tags on them.
</div><div align="left">I loved that he was too busy even at the age of 89 to sit down long enough to cut the tags off his couches.
</div><div align="left">I said to him, “Grandpa, didn’t anyone ever tell you that 89 year old men are supposed to sit around and watch tv?”
</div><div align="left">He answered “No, and if they did, I’d tell them to go to hell!”
</div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">
I admire Grandpa so much. Enough that I even named my son Mark after him.
</div><div align="left">He was an amazing man, just as my Grandma was an amazing woman.
</div><div align="left">There was nothing that Grandpa couldn’t do, from flying an airplane or building a house from the </div><div align="left">ground up, to soothing a sad child.
</div><div align="left">I love Grandpa, and I consider myself blessed to be his grand daughter.</div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-26145645483725668192009-07-09T17:02:00.003-04:002009-07-09T18:38:10.083-04:00More about Trek<div align="left">Victoria requested that I tell more about Trek. </div><div align="left">
There was a lot that happened and I will try to cover the high points.
</div><div align="left">First, let me explain that a Pioneer Trek like the one we went on is a re-creation of the treks across the country that a lot of early pioneers made about 170 years ago.
</div><div align="left">We dressed in similiar clothes to what the pioneers wore. Meaning I wore a long dress, an apron and a bonnet. (And NO makeup).
</div><div align="left">I did get to wear my nikes, and would have worn hiking boots if I had them.
</div><div align="left">We all met at the church at 4:30 in the morning on Thursday.
</div><div align="left">There were 6 Ma and Pa couples and about 60 kids. Plus several Leaders from the Stake.
</div><div align="left">We had to drive about 5 and a half hours to the mountains north of Richmond.
</div><div align="left">When we got there we were organized into families.
</div><div align="left">We got 10 <em>awesome </em>kids. Miles, David, Justin, Jared, Elijah, Brett, Amanda, Katie, Nicole and Christine.
</div><div align="left">We also got an Uncle. Uncle Joe was assigned to hang out with us and help our family.
</div><div align="left">We initially played a get to know you game and came up with a family cheer.
</div><div align="left">Our cheer was "Thundercats HO!"
</div><div align="left">Then we put together our handcart and loaded it.
</div><div align="left">Naturally our family was done before everyone else, so I taught them all a song while we waited for everyone else. We learned this song:
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">I have 2 little hands folded snuggly and tight.
</div><div align="left">They are tiny and meek yet they know what is right.
</div><div align="left">During all the long hours till daylight is through,
</div><div align="left">There are plenty of things for my 2 hands to do.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">I have 5 little fingers on one little hand.
</div><div align="left">I have 6 on the other I don't understand,
</div><div align="left">During all the long hours till daylight is through,
</div><div align="left">I have 1 little finger with nothing to do.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">Then we started up the mountain.
</div><div align="left">We didn't have enough room around the handcart for 13 people to push all at once so we took turns.
</div><div align="left">The kids were awesome about taking over for each other and giving each other breaks.
</div><div align="left">Partway through the day we met up with a general who asked all the young men to join the army.
</div><div align="left">All of our boys left with them and the girls who were left, along with the Pas and Uncles had to push the handcarts up the hardest hill by ourselves.
</div><div align="left">When we got all the carts up and turned around I could see all the boys in their blue hats from the army.
</div><div align="left">That was almost the best part of the day.
</div><div align="left">The real best part for me was when we finally got to camp.
</div><div align="left">All the kids helped peel and chop potatoes and carrots for dinner. We cooked them with 2 chickens in dutch ovens.
</div><div align="left">They were delicious.
</div><div align="left">After all the families ate and cleaned up we had a camp devotional.
</div><div align="left">Following that we returned to our family campfire for our family devotional.
</div><div align="left">I had prepared several things to read around the fire, but because it was so late and we were so tired I kept it short.
</div><div align="left">I did read them <a href="http://dellahill.blogspot.com/2009/06/jabberwocky.html">The Jabberwocky</a>, just for fun, then I got more serious and read them the words from <a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poor-wayfaring-man-of-grief/">"A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief". </a>I didn't sing it, I just read it like a poem.
</div><div align="left">Then we went to bed, girls on one tarp and boys on the other.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">The next day, Friday was the hardest day.
</div><div align="left">We pushed our handcarts about 7 or 8 miles. What wasn't uphill was downhill. And believe me, downhill isn't necessarily easier.
</div><div align="left">Our family led the way for a while and we didn't just lead the way, we plowed ahead.
</div><div align="left">We kicked rutt.
</div><div align="left">The night before, while we were preparing dinner I had started to tell the kids, "You know, I'm not saying that our family is better than anyone else's, but <em>nobody</em> is better than us."
</div><div align="left">That became our mantra for the next few days.
</div><div align="left">I would say "I'm not saying we're better than anyone else..."
</div><div align="left">And everyone else would say, "But no one is better than us".
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">We were very blessed with the food. It was limited and if it got burned in the dutch oven there </div><div align="left">was even less, but ours was always good and we always had enough.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">There was another Pa who kept saying "Are you having fun yet?"
</div><div align="left">When the truth was, at times, no, I wasn't having fun. Pushing an 800 pound handcart up a mountain wasn't necessarily fun. But that didn't mean it wasn't a valuable experience. That doesn't mean I wasn't benefitting from it.
</div><div align="left">You can work hard and grow even when you aren't having fun.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">But that doesn't mean I didn't have fun. We had a lot of fun.
</div><div align="left">When we finally got to camp on the second day we were sooo glad to be there.
</div><div align="left">We got dinner going and set up camp.
</div><div align="left">After we ate we had a little time before the devotional so I sat around the fire with my family and we sang songs.
</div><div align="left">We sang "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" in English and Spanish. We sang "<a href="http://carrie143.blogspot.com/2008/12/popcorn-popping.html">Popcorn Popping</a>", both verses, including actions. We sang "Give, Said the Little Stream" with and without the "Give"s.
</div><div align="left">I even got them all to sing "Ah Too Dee Tah" with actions.
</div><div align="left">It was awesome.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">At any time all day long, if anyone needed help one of the kids would jump in and help.
</div><div align="left">Everyone got along, everyone worked together, everyone joined in.
</div><div align="left">Everyone was awesome.
</div><div align="left">Some shared their testimonies at testimony meeting. Some shared their testimonies with our family.
</div><div align="left">I was so impressed with every single one of those kids.
</div><div align="left">There were some very spiritul moments along with the fun and goofy ones.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">There was another day after that, during which more awesome things happened. But I'll wrap up here, and maybe talk about that later.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">Chris and I are hoping we get the chance in 4 years when they do it again.
</div><div align="left">It was really a privilege to be a Ma and Pa to those young men and young women. They were amazing.
</div><div align="left">The whole experience was awesome. I think that we got as much out of it as the youth did.
</div><div align="left">.
</div><div align="left">-Della</div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-12962927510655541222009-07-07T18:19:00.004-04:002009-07-07T18:50:47.772-04:00"Crazy Busy", "Handcarts", and "Cub Scouts"<div align="left">It seems as though I find myself apologizing a lot for not being on the blog. So I'm done apologizing. </div><div align="left">
</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">But I will try to fill you in on some of my activities.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">
I spent most of last week driving to and from and supervising Cub Scout Day Camp. </div><div align="left"> </div>
I couldn't be there every day, so several other people stepped up to help out, which was awesome.
<div align="left"> </div><div align="left">
CJ is no longer a cub scout, but Mark went for the first time and <em>loved </em>it. Especially the archery and bb guns. </div><div align="left">
Last week was also busy because J started his summer job. </div><div align="left">
He is working as part of a summer job training program. So we are having a lot of driving him to and from his job site. </div><div align="left">
The week before last I was literally cut off from civilization for 3 days while Chris and I went on Pioneer Trek with our stake's Youth Conference. </div><div align="left">
It was absolutely amazing. We were Ma and Pa to 10 teenagers who completely blew me away with how hard working, fun and just plain awesome they were. </div><div align="left">
I could devote several blog posts to talking about the Trek, but I don't think my words could do justice to the experience. </div><div align="left">
It was the most fun I've had working so hard in a long time.
We basically pushed an 800 pound hand cart up and down a mountain for about 16 miles over 3 days.
It was hard, it was fun, it was spiritual and it renewed my faith in the younger generation.
The 10 kids in our family were amazing. Everyone of them worked so hard, pitched in together, and made it a great experience for each other and us.
</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I mean, I wouldn't go so far as to say that our family was better than any of the other families. But I will say that <em>nobody</em> was better than us. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Chris and I are already hoping we get asked to go again in 4 years.</div><div align="left">While we were gone a couple of things happened. </div><div align="left">Apparently some singer died. And our house was broken into.</div><div align="left">I'm not too worried about the singer, he has a lot of people who care enough that I don't need to.</div><div align="left">It did concern me a great deal that when we got home the screen was off the front window and the window was wide open. In addition, my dog Toby was in the back yard instead of in the house.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">We called the police and they went into the house before us to check it out.</div><div align="left">I think that Toby scared off the burglars when they opened the window by jumping out at them and barking like crazy as he tends to do when anyone comes over, especially if we are not home.</div><div align="left">It is my guess that Toby hung out on the porch until a neighbor put him in the back yard.</div><div align="left">Regardless, nothing was missing or broken when the cops searched the house.</div><div align="left">Oh, and if that wasn't enough to keep us busy both Chris and I have been sick.</div><div align="left">But we are getting better and life is either returning to normal or we are adjusting to the new level of crazy.</div><div align="left">I'll try to add pics soon.</div><div align="left">Thanks for caring and checking the blog.</div><div align="left">-Della</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-21742799635762494692009-07-07T17:24:00.002-04:002009-07-07T17:30:44.491-04:00Check the Time<div align="left">If you should wake up early in the morning tomorrow and notice that the time is 4:05, if it happens to be just 6 seconds after 4:05 you should note that the time and date are 04:05:06, 07-08-09.</div><div align="left">Just something to think about.</div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-19610222460720617752009-06-25T06:11:00.001-04:002009-06-25T06:11:21.256-04:00The zip code 12345 is assigned to General Electric in Shenectady, New York. <br>The zip code 23456 is in Virginia Beach, Virginia.Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-7622730323584546362009-06-24T10:51:00.004-04:002009-06-24T11:06:57.035-04:00"More Mormon Jokes" or "Strike Me Down Now"<div align="left">There is another blog out there called <a href="http://sugar-beet.blogspot.com/">The Sugar Beet</a>, which is kind of like <a href="http://www.theonion.com/content/index">The Onion </a>newsletter, but mormon style.</div><div align="left">I apologize at this point to my non-mormon readers who will probably only be confused by this post or by anything they might read at <a href="http://sugar-beet.blogspot.com/">The Sugar Beet</a>.</div><div align="left">Believe me, when you understand the "mormon culture" this stuff is <em>funny</em>.</div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">Actually the following list is titled</div><div align="left"><strong>"Things that seem like they would be funny but are not".</strong></div><div align="left">See if you agree.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">• Using grilled cheese sandwiches for the sacrament</div><div align="left">• Solemnly appointing high priests to be captains of 50 for the march to Jackson County</div><div align="left">• Sending a letter to all the Laurels saying they can wear whatever they want to girls’ camp</div><div align="left">• Telling the priests they can serve as priesthood chaperones at girls’ camp</div><div align="left">• Standing to bear your testimony, and then falling to the ground screaming and wrestling with an unseen demon</div><div align="left">• Telling the nursery leader that, like an apostle, her calling is for life</div><div align="left">• Tie-dying your Gs </div><div align="left">• When called upon to read a scripture in Gospel Doctrine, making up something like, “And the Lord sayeth unto the children of men, It is not meet in mine eyes that thou nor thy manservant nor thy maidservant shall witness the Super Bowl, nor the harlots therein, for the Sabbath is mine”</div><div align="left">• Telling the choir director to include a drum solo in the next Easter program</div><div align="left">• Referring to the art displayed in the Church Office Building as “Corn in the COB”</div><div align="left">• Dumping your fiancée because she’s not physically fit enough to make the walk to Missouri </div><div align="left">.</div><div align="left">As for that walk to Missouri....I'll have more on that later......</div>Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-48672028933633871032009-06-22T00:08:00.001-04:002009-06-22T00:08:13.282-04:00Happy Father's Day, Dad. <br>I am so blessed to have gotten you for a father. <br>Thank you for being my dad. <br>I love you. <br>-DellaDella Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2986496025512505696.post-12774279570227389672009-06-19T20:02:00.001-04:002009-06-19T20:02:17.213-04:00Did you know that an ostrich's eye is bigger than it's brain?<br>Now you do.Della Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14629925559418817649noreply@blogger.com2