tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13471290045105317542024-02-07T13:51:58.072-05:00Diary of a Small Town GirlAn unfiltered look at raising teens, writing novels, life after 40, and everything in between.Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-72111801863537188582018-09-04T15:18:00.000-04:002018-09-04T15:20:56.959-04:00New Adventures<br />
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For the past two years my husband has been working on his Master's Degree. And for the two years before that, I was working on mine. On top of that, we both work full-time, coach sports, work side jobs, and raise kids. And while this is the life that we've chosen, over the past two years, our schedules have looked something like this:<br />
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<b>7am-3pm:</b> Work at job #1<br />
<b>3:30-6pm:</b> Coach or work at job #2<br />
<b>7pm-9pm:</b> Do homework...or watch a kid play some sort of sport...or pick up dinner from the D&W deli...or fall asleep early.<br />
<b>9pm-10pm:</b> Watch TV, take a shower, and check emails from a professor<br />
<b>10pm-6am:</b> Sleep<br />
<b>7am - 3pm:</b> Do it all over again.<br />
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<b><i>For the most part, our lives have been a general movement from one event to the other while giving high fives as we pass each other on the way in or out of the house.</i></b> Our evenings have consisted of one of us typing up 10 page papers while the other one is out coaching some sort of sport or making a grocery order on Shipt, or shuffling our kids from place-to-place. But this week, something strange happened...Chris finished his classes, neither of us are coaching anything, we are each only working one job, and only one of our kids is currently involved in athletics...and she's 2 hours away...and doesn't need us to drive her to practices (Yes, and Amen!) We realized that were home together for an extended period of time for the first time in FOREVER...and we looked at each other and asked the question, "so, what do normal people do?"<br />
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You laugh. But seriously, this is the question that Chris asked...and I wasn't sure how to answer.<br />
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Chris: "Do they sit and eat dinner together?"<br />
Me: "I think so."<br />
Chris: "Should we do that?"<br />
Me: *Awkward shrug*<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about the extra time that we have to spend with each other, I'm just saying that we probably need a hobby. Because as nice as it is to relax together, I'm just saying that Chris and I function best when we're busy. Honestly, <b><i>there was a moment when he was literally wandering around the house in circles,</i></b> and I had to remind him that it was ok to sit down and relax...and then I pulled out my laptop and began answering work emails.<br />
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<b><i>So, because neither of us has any aspiration in the least to get our Ph.D, our best bet is to find a useful way to spend our time together so that we don't wear a path in the floor from pacing around and around.</i></b> We've already tried to find a Netflix series to watch together, but since Chris's favorite series are The Sopranos and Ozark, and mine are Hart of Dixie and The Gilmore Girls, we've realized that this probably isn't going to work...so here are our current options:<br />
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1. <b>Cooking classes:</b> <a href="http://www.artisanofgrandhaven.com/cooking-classes/" target="_blank">The Artisan Cooking School</a> is right around the corner from our house, and the head chef is our neighbor, who keeps inviting us to try it out. Now that Carson has forced us to buy a new pair of (amazing) knives and I've invested in a giant skillet from Love, Inc. (the rest of my pots and pans are from my wedding...so, this is truly the best option that I currently have), I'm sure we could be successful in the kitchen...probably. I mean, right now, our best dinners consist of whipping together pre-packaged items into something that includes the word "salad" or "casserole" or "bowl" but I'm sure that The Artisan will turn us both into Chefs de Cuisine and we will be throwing dinner parties all over the place. You're invited.<br />
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2. <b>Home Improvement Projects:</b> The problem with having time at home is that all of a sudden you are staring at the walls and noticing all of the things that are wrong with your space. This week Chris has already cleaned out the gutters, (and can I just say that we have a wonky ladder and I fully imagined a Clark Griswald experience over and over in my mind while it was happening.) he's considering building a deck, and he's mentioned installing recessed lighting in the living room. I realize that not everyone knows my husband, but I want to begin by letting you know about the time that he had to hang a picture on the wall and ended up practically knocking it down (the wall, not the picture) and taught everyone in the house a stream of new vocabulary. I'm not saying the deck and the lighting are not good ideas...I'm just saying that this should remain low on our list.<br />
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3. <b>Golf:</b> No.<br />
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3. <b>Gaming: </b>So no, we're not going to join Carson in his Fortnite efforts (<a href="http://smalltownjenn.blogspot.com/2018/08/dear-fortnite.html" target="_blank">which you can read about here</a>), but we've discovered that we're pretty damn good at Wheel of Fortune...and now that we have extra time at night, this seems to be our go-to event. We literally watched this the entire week with the intensity of two people who had their lives on the line. At one point we were standing up and yelling "HIDDEN COVE. HIDDEN COVE" at the top of our lungs as if Pat and Vanna could hear us. We've actually entered the Wheel Watcher's club, and while I totally understand that I'm now part of the same club that my grandparent's are a part of, I don't want to miss out on any possible prizes (an all-expense paid trip to The Bahamas, for example) or lose the opportunity to become a contestant on T.V...in fact, I've added "being a contestant on Wheel of Fortune" to my bucket list. It goes without saying that we are in desperate need of hobbies...and friends.<br />
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Look, this new period of life is transitional and probably temporary...and we are definitely going to take advantage of it. We're going to watch more Wheel of Fortune and add Jeopardy to the evening routine. We'll learn to cook, and fix the lights, and build a deck, and maybe even play Fortnite with Carson. We'll chill out and just take some well-needed down time to remember what it's like to just hang out and enjoy each other's company. Because truthfully, I know this won't last. Next week I start working at the store again in the evenings (which I love...seriously, come visit me at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BlendedFurnitureMarket/" target="_blank">Blended Furniture Market!</a>) and, soon enough, Chris will have baseball workouts and board meetings...and we'll be shuffling our kid from school events to church events and everywhere in-between. But for a moment...just for this small window of time, we'll rest...and possibly win that all-expense paid vacation...and that will be enough of a new adventure for now.<br />
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Lots of love from a ready-to-be-adventurous Small Town Girl</div>
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-28285595480366901482018-08-28T16:26:00.002-04:002018-08-28T16:26:16.616-04:00Dear Fortnite...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Fortnite...<br />
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<b>THANK YOU.</b><br />
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No seriously. As as a working mom with a 14-year old, I have to be honest and say that I am actually grateful for the game that has kept my son from going absolutely crazy with boredom all summer. So, thank you.<br />
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Look, I get that I'm supposed to be frustrated and angry about the amount of time that my son has spent in front of the TV with a controller in hand and a headset on his head, but truthfully? In this weird stage where he is too old to have a babysitter and too young to have a job, Fortnite has been the one thing that has kept us sane all summer.<br />
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I mean, I totally get that there should be limits on screen time, and I get that <b>it is completely horrific parenting to allow your child to sit in the basement all day when the sun is shining.</b>..but that is why we have summer rules. Here they are:<br />
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1. Read for 30 minutes<br />
2. Go outside for 30 minutes<br />
3. Do some sort of chore that will help you be a productive part of the family<br />
4. Do...something.<br />
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I know.<br />
I'm the queen of parenting...and <b>A VERY OBVIOUS FAILURE</b>.<br />
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OR...maybe I'm just like every other mother in America, working or not, who is trying to keep their shit together as they raise their families. Seriously, between taking care of the home and making sure that our kids are kind, friendly, smart, athletic, and in line to win every possible scholarship available to them...it's no wonder we've resigned ourselves to allowing our kids to play Fortnite for 4 hours in a row (or 6) while we binge on The West Wing and Grey's Anatomy...or even a series of completely mindless romantic comedies on Netflix...<b>WE ARE FREAKING EXHAUSTED.</b><br />
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But aside from the resignation...there <i>are</i> some very obvious benefits to the video game that has taken over our lives:<br />
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1. <b>Fine Motor Skills:</b> Every single day this summer, my son has clicked buttons and moved levers on a controller...and for someone who has struggled with fine motor skills since he had to learn to tie his shoes in Kindergarten (seriously...I put him in Velcro shoes everyday, but the teacher insisted he learn to do his laces!) this is pretty much like physical therapy.<br />
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2. <b>Academics:</b> Let's be honest, anyone that can spot a moving bush from 100 yards away and choose exactly which weapon to use that will shoot at the right angle to make a kill while also accurately calculating the speed of an approaching storm to the nearest second has exactly enough Algebra skills to start high school this week.<br />
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3. <b>Physical Activity</b>: Some of you may remember the incident in which Carson pulled his hamstring because he jumped up a little too quickly when getting an 11 kill win. So it's basically like he's working out every day, and that's all that any mom can ask for.<br />
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4. <b>Social Skills: </b>I'm going to be honest, at first I was distraught about the fact that Carson was playing Fortnite FOR HOURS ON END...until I realized that he was playing with his same friends over and over again...and I know these parents...and their kids seem normal...mostly. So if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me.<br />
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It's been a long summer, and whether or not you are a working mom or mom that stays at home, <b><i>I know we can all agree that sometimes our kids need some form of entertainment that is not us</i></b>...and if they can calculate a storm rate and talk with their friends at the same time...well, that's just a bonus. And seriously, it's not like my kid didn't do anything all summer...I mean he played a billion hours of baseball (<a href="http://smalltownjenn.blogspot.com/2018/07/baseball-and-jesus.html" target="_blank">you can read about that here)</a> and he read a few books...and yes, ok, I paid him money for each book...and yes, he spent said money on X-Box gift cards to buy skins and seasons having to do with Fortnite (I have no idea what that means). But if that's what it takes to get him to read, then I'll stock up on the gift cards and put the controller in his hand over and over again.<br />
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Look, parenting is tough. And to be honest, as much <b><i>as I love sleeping in and having more freedom to my day, I'm ready to seal up the X-Box, make a half-healthy lunch, and send my kid off to school.</i></b> I'm ready for him to spend more than 30 minutes outside of the house and read more than 30 minutes a day...but while he was home during the endless days of his 14-year-old summer...I'm just thankful that he had Fortnite to keep him company. So yes...<br />
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Dear Fortnight...<br />
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<b>THANK YOU</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freshman year, here we come!</td></tr>
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From a grateful and ready for the school year Small Town Girl</div>
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-51659388934719120972018-08-21T17:28:00.000-04:002018-08-21T17:28:20.586-04:00How to Parent Your College KidJust kidding! I would be completely horrible on giving advice on parenting your college kid, because let me be honest... I AM FAILING FABULOUSLY AT THIS.<br />
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Seriously, I have no idea what I am doing. <b><i>Not a freaking clue</i></b>. This period of life feels much like driving through a tunnel with a blindfold on, and I have no idea where I am going. Currently it includes lots of prayer and lots of wine and lots of praying while drinking wine. It involves conversations about sex and drugs and vaping and alcohol and pornography and Jesus, most of which make me uncomfortable and my child annoyed.<br />
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But seriously, how do we do this? How do we get through this stage of life without completely falling apart?<br />
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I remember the first night that each of my kids actually slept through the night, and I remember thinking..."I will never have to wake up in the middle of the night with my child again!" And then they leave for college...and I wake up in the middle of the night wondering if they remembered to say their prayers and who they are hanging out with and are they eating healthy and <b>ARE THEY GOING TO BE OKAY?</b><br />
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Nothing really prepares you for this stage of life. Last weekend as I dropped of Kaitlyn at Alma College for her sophomore year, and drove away, I couldn't help but panic that I had probably done <b>ALL THE THINGS WRONG</b>. Like, all of them. I fed her too much gluten, and gave her too much independence, I let her wear leggings to school, and I didn't check her homework enough. I'm sure there was a day...or two...where I probably forgot to pray for her, and I'm stressed out about how that might have affected her. If only I would have hit my knees two more times in her eighteen years, I'm sure she would be fine...but now...well, who knows.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saying good-bye for another year.</td></tr>
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There's a reason that all of those mommy blogs out there stop right about the time kids become independent and head off to highschool...it's because every single one of them is in shock and has no idea what type of advice to offer. Seriously, think about it...there are blogs to help parents decide on disposable versus reusable diapers, how to handle a strong-willed child, and how to create adorable back-to-school crafts to make your child feel loved. But then those kiddos head off to high school and college, and we're left to wonder if maybe we should have just breast-fed a little bit longer or invested more time (or any time at all) in the school Valentine's party to ensure that they would become healthy adults...and all we can do is wait for a text or snapchat that says, "yes, I'm fine," which makes us panic even more. FINE? What the heck does that mean???<br />
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Watching the kids grow up and move on is hard. So hard. But I guess that's the point, right? I took Kaitlyn to the doctor the other day and it went like this:<br />
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<b>Doctor Rush</b>: Mom, aren't you proud of the very adult way that Kaitlyn is handling this issue?<br />
<b>Me</b>: I am...but I'm feeling a little bit unneeded here *awkward laughter to make it seem like I was joking...even though I wasn't*<br />
<b>Doctor Rush</b>: That's the sign of a good parent...they raise adults. Our children already know how to be kids, they don't need parents to teach them that.<br />
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BOOM. Mind blown.<br />
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We are raising adults. And that's really all we can do, right? We try to choose the right diapers and the right meal plan (Gluten-free? Keto? Dairy-free?) We try to remember to occasionally buy vitamins and put our kids in all of the sports that they want. We sit through performances, give them car keys, let them go on dates, and drive them to college, all the while crossing our fingers and praying fervently that they're ok. And they are. Mostly.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kaitlyn and her awesome roommate Kelsey adulting.</td></tr>
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But sometimes they're not so ok, too. <b><i>Some days they will call crying, and some days they will be angry, and some days you won't hear from them, and some days they will make very bad decisions that no amount of prayer and crossed-fingers could have prevented. </i></b> So here's my advice...because I don't know any other advice to give...and even if I did, it would probably be terrible. So this is it...all wrapped up in one tiny thought...all we can do is be there. No matter what. <br />
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I know. It's not profound.<br />
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But honestly, all we can do is be there. Because on their good days they're going to need a cheerleader, and on their bad days they will need someone to bail them out of jail...and on the days in-between, they just need to know that someone is there...on the other end of the phone...or the other end of Snapchat...just to hear them say that they're fine. Which probably means they're ok, and maybe it doesn't...but either way, we're here for the good and the bad...and we're watching them become adults in the process...and like Dr. Rush said...that's something to absolutely be proud of!<br />
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With Lots of Love from a sad-but-proud-of-her-college-kid Small Town Girl</div>
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-51657198726658843822018-08-14T07:13:00.001-04:002018-08-14T07:13:37.540-04:00Up North<span id="docs-internal-guid-0d387064-7fff-c61e-0b8d-6c6f519dad59"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">Every good Michigander understands the term “Up North.” It’s one of any various locations somewhere north of Grand Rapids or Muskegon (depending on which highway you are on) where trees replace buildings, lakes replace parking lots, and fresh air abounds. <i style="font-weight: bold;">It’s that place where families go to camp or hike...or in our case...rent a cottage on a lake. </i>(Seriously...who on earth came up with the actual camping-in-a-tent idea?!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">"Up North" has become our end-of-summer tradition...and i</span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">t's a weekend in which we get to break all of the rules that guide our daily lives. <b><i>N</i></b></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>o one brushes their teeth or applies deodorant,</i></b> and even though we all bring more than one outfit, we really mostly just wander around in the same pair of shorts that we showed up in on the first day. </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We eat loads of carbs, drink before any socially acceptable time, and watch hours and hours of Impractical Jokers...even when we should be out in the sun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We fish and jump off the boat in the middle of the lake (even the parent who is typically way too stodgy to indulge in adolescent fun) And s</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ometimes we nap.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">But lest you believe that we are a perfect family, with perfect vacations...let me clear the air. It's not always unicorns and rainbows. <b><i>There's the night that one of my kids (accidentally/on purpose) slapped the other one across the face.</i></b> And the boat ride in which we realized that are kids still are not the kind of kids to share their hopes and dreams...but instead prefer mono-syllabic answers to our probing questions:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me: Are you excited about school?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Child #1: No</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me: Have you chosen your minor?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Child #2: No</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me: How do you feel about your schedule?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Child #2: Fine</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me: Do we need to get you anything before school starts?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Child #1: Can we not talk about this right now?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And they get annoyed when we want them to actually participate in family life...and boat rides end up including someo</span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">ne reading, someone sleeping, someone driving the boat, <b><i>and someone trying desperately to find any bars of service available.</i></b> There were moments when Chris and I would just look at each other and roll our eyes...and wonder what we did wrong...and why other people's kids love them more...but then one of them would ask us to go fishing with them...and all was right with the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Up North" is also a place where the passing of time becomes more evident than ever, and that's the hard part. You notice the changes as the kids grow from year to year. There's less splashing and more fishing, fewer games and more sleeping. <b><i>And of course...</i></b></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>this year one of the kids has new metal on their teeth and one has new metal on their belly button...so there's that. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">The cabin trip isn't just our farewell to summer, but our farewell to another year. And that's what makes</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">it bittersweet. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Next week we will ship one kid back to college and the other starts baseball again. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I head back to school and Chris’s days become longer and fuller. So this is our last hurrah. And this </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">year, like every other year, as I made the final bed and folded the last towel...as Chris did the final </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">walk-through and loaded up the car...</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>I cried</i></b></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">A LOT. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Because "Up North" isn't just a place for camping and hiking and renting a house on a lake...It </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">isn't just the trees or the water or the fresh air. It's the place where your daughter learns to drive </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">the boat (sometimes without her dad giving her step-by-step directions) and the place where your son </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">unhooks bluegill from the line for his sister (even if he's just accidentally/on purpose slapped her </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">across the face). </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And it's the place where </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">you're reminded about what it means to be a family...with unicorns and rainbows...and without. It's the place where your kids grow up and despite their proclivity to use mono-syllabic answers, become the best versions of themselves. So until next year...when one or more of our children may be sporting new pieces of metal on their bodies, or need more sleep than sunshine, I will hold on to the memories of this weekend and remember that no matter what changes throughout the year, and how many different directions we're pulled. We always have "Up North" to bring us back together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">With lots of love from an Up North kind of Small Town Girl</span></div>
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-58217774721185045762018-08-07T07:44:00.000-04:002018-08-07T07:44:26.929-04:00Small Town WorkoutsYesterday I ran to the bookstore. No, I literally ran. Like, on my feet running. And it went well for about a block and a half, and then I remembered that I hate running. Like really, really hate it. I mean, when I first start running I feel great...my arms are pumping strong, my legs are moving at a steady pace, I'm wearing cute running clothes...and then my body realizes that I'm trying to burn some calories and it is like, <b><i>"Not today, Satan!"</i></b><br />
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I was on a workout kick there for awhile, but it's been a few weeks and it's become obvious that a few weeks is definitely a few too many. Seriously, <b><i>How is it that it takes 21 days of working out and eating healthy to lose 5 lbs...and 1.5 minutes and a 1/2 a glass of wine to gain it all back??</i></b><br />
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I have run the gamut when it comes to working out. I was on the Fit Body bandwagon for a while, and let me tell you...I.LOOKED.FABULOUS. <b><i>But, I mean, what do you expect when you pay so much money to work out that you can't afford groceries?</i></b> So, while my body is bummed that I'm not getting yelled at by trainers every day, my bank account is grateful.<br />
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And most recently it has been Beachbody, which was also great...but then my subscription ran out and it's been way too much work to log back on and re-enter my credit card number. And also, there are those tiny little containers that you are supposed to put all of your food in. <b>ALL. YOUR. FOOD.</b> Have you seen the size of those containers? I can pretty much fit a grape and half an asparagus in those stupid containers. So yesterday, I ran.<br />
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Here was my plan:<br />
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1. Run from my house to the highway (.455 miles)<br />
2. Take a break while waiting for the light<br />
3. Run from highway to bookstore (2.11 blocks)<br />
4. Take a break while looking for books<br />
5. Run from bookstore to highway (2.11 blocks)<br />
6. Take another break while waiting for light<br />
7. Run home (.455 miles)<br />
8. Drink LaCroix<br />
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This plan was a sure fire way to get me to run almost a full mile with a few stops along the way, but here's how it really happened.<br />
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1. Run from my house to the highway (.455 miles)<br />
2. Light is green...can't take a break because people might see me stop<br />
3. Run to bookstore (2.11 blocks)<br />
4. Bookstore is closed<br />
5. Swear under my breath...keep going because no good excuse to stop<br />
6. Run to other bookstore (1 block)<br />
7. Also closed<br />
8. Give up on life and walk home (approx. .5 mile, but who's counting anymore?)<br />
9. Drink LaCroix<br />
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<b><i>Working out is hard. Not really the working out part, but the thinking about working out part. It takes approximately 3 hours to get up the energy to do a 30 minute workout (or a 1 mile run/walk) and most of the time there is something more interesting to do anyway...like watching Netflix...or watching paint dry. </i></b> And in this day and age there is always the excuse about having body confidence and loving yourself just as you are...which is all well and good when you can zip up your pants, but is less-so when your favorite pair of jeans leaves seam-marks on your thighs when you sit down. And although there are lots of great solutions for healthy eating, let's be honest, even <a href="https://halotop.com/?gclid=Cj0KCQjw45_bBRD_ARIsAJ6wUXQEJ2p27tPKhsQ41sxg_EX8mV8jsUgzqwR-hJlIssw_zipydw3uM8caAi93EALw_wcB" target="_blank">Halo Top</a> isn't as diet-friendly when you eat 2 pints in one sitting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSykcD4d8NK7tZ7OeSkOGnvxl26m6hUm2qBmAUaMV4k6tegfu6GB7kx3KScaap9SGYhdzGCLcz0XyExGh70CJVMG_OaVr1POR8fZNqOFDc0l8RzuX9p1_vcjVBzoWdD_WdUK9we4EfcI9/s1600/File_001.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSykcD4d8NK7tZ7OeSkOGnvxl26m6hUm2qBmAUaMV4k6tegfu6GB7kx3KScaap9SGYhdzGCLcz0XyExGh70CJVMG_OaVr1POR8fZNqOFDc0l8RzuX9p1_vcjVBzoWdD_WdUK9we4EfcI9/s320/File_001.png" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My very empty, very delicious Salted Caramel Halo Top</td></tr>
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So for now, I'll run...probably. Or maybe not. It's possible I'll just think about it for 3 hours and then enjoy a pint of Halo Top, which really, is about 250 calories less than regular ice cream...which pretty much equals working out. <b><i>I mean, I'm no mathlete, but that right there seems like reason enough to stay on the couch. </i></b> Or...if by some act of God you actually see me running...and then stopping to catch my breath...and then walking and acting like everything is ok...feel free to pass along a thumbs up...or offer me a ride home. Either way, I'll be grateful!<br />
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With lots of love from a needs-to-work-out-more Small Town Girl</div>
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And just in case you need some extra motivation...<a href="https://open.spotify.com/user/1228870607/playlist/2qDyWcglkBBKuXKIRYXnR3?si=RSFog6T6SAeJDwI8nDlsTA" target="_blank">here's a running playlist to save your life!</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_XnFkmRbdvn5kR-YBMv9GlatD8CajutZ4TW4R0JaoOE2wtMUXY5AA8eHlqshj5s1Dj7C6o6c0PrvIZ5tnGufFDIoVUFM831fbfDtghyl3nL5BhP0o7Br-K5GiyQmiNnaPBajcXJro6g7/s1600/Screenshot+2018-08-06+at+10.48.50+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="301" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_XnFkmRbdvn5kR-YBMv9GlatD8CajutZ4TW4R0JaoOE2wtMUXY5AA8eHlqshj5s1Dj7C6o6c0PrvIZ5tnGufFDIoVUFM831fbfDtghyl3nL5BhP0o7Br-K5GiyQmiNnaPBajcXJro6g7/s320/Screenshot+2018-08-06+at+10.48.50+PM.png" width="250" /></a></div>
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<br />Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-59618755420459819752018-08-04T08:17:00.000-04:002018-08-04T08:18:03.839-04:00Small Town Celebrations<br />
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If you've never been to the Grand Haven Coast Guard Festival, you are probably 1 out of 0 people because let me tell you, this week there are all the people in the whole entire world gathered in my hometown for this festival. Seriously. ALL.THE.PEOPLE.<b> </b><br />
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And here's the thing, when all the people in the entire world gather in a small town, there should be perks for those of us that live here every other 51 weeks of the year. Seriously, like priority parking or at the very least priority happy hour at the bar that you visit EVERY.SINGLE.WEEK. <b><i>But no, instead, Judy from Nebraska gets priority seating at the bar on Wednesday night while Jenn from Grand Haven is stuck waving at the bartender from afar, pouting because ALL.THE.PEOPLE are in her spot.</i></b><br />
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I mean, there was a time when I loved Coast Guard Festival, (don't believe me? check out <a href="http://smalltownjenn.blogspot.com/2013/08/lessons-learned-at-carnival.html" target="_blank">this post from 2013</a>) with its kid's day and its colorful cobra roller coaster and its cotton candy food trucks...and then one day I realized that I had turned into a grandpa and I was saying things like (insert crabby old grandpa voice here) "these teenagers need to put some more clothes on!" and "can you believe the traffic around here!" and all of a sudden I realized that I was old. Like too old. And too crabby. So this year we went down to the carnival to give it another shot...<br />
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<b><i>And nope...still old and still crabby. But here are 3 things that I learned:</i></b><br />
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1. Nobody under the age of 19 actually wears clothes anymore. I get it, I definitely sound like the oldest freaking person in the world, but honestly...here is a PSA to all 16 year old girls during Coast Guard Festival...put some clothes on! <b><i>Look, I realize that you have recently pierced your cute little belly button and you want to show it off, and I also realize that your breasts are still perky. But for the love of god...please stop running around downtown in your bikini.</i></b> Seriously. People are eating. I understand that we have a beach. And don't get me wrong, I am all about wearing a bikini on the beach, in fact, I am a bikini-wearer (look, I have a long torso...don't judge.) But I wear it ON.THE.BEACH. Not running around between carnival rides and into the shops. The beach ends right about Butch's Beach Burritos...heck, I'll even give you all the way down to Dairy Treat. But for the love...put some clothes on before running around downtown...you look trashy. And also, stop vaping.<br />
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2. The sidewalk is just as dangerous as the middle of the road. Probably more so because at least the road is blocked to all engine-run vehicles. But the sidewalk? That's where the danger lies, with its skateboards and its bikes and its stressed-out stroller-pushing moms. And it's definitely not a good idea to try to start a conversation with the person who is walking next to you, much less hold their hand. Because there will always be a person coming from the other direction (probably on wheels) who will glide right between you like you don't even exist. And having a 3rd person try to walk and talk with you? Don't even try it. Here's our attempted conversation from this week:<br />
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Me: *holding hands with Chris and looking over my shoulder* So how was work?<br />
Kaitlyn: *three steps behind* It was fine.<br />
Me: *still trying to look over my shoulder* What?<br />
Kaitlyn: *three steps behind & shouting* IT. WAS. FINE.<br />
Me: *Squinting my eyes at her to try to hear better* WHAT?<br />
Kaitlyn: *sighing* Never mind<br />
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It's fine, we got caught up as we ate at the picnic table in front of the food truck. But again, in true grumpy-person fashion...there were so many people on the sidewalks that having a conversation was more work than it was worth...and holding hands with Chris while walking...well, that was fine until a skateboarder slid right through us. <b><i>I mean, of course I gave him my best evil eye...but he didn't notice at all which was even more irritating...because what is a good evil eye if no one even notices?</i></b><br />
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3. And finally, socializing is awkward. No, really. Because when ALL.THE.PEOPLE. are gathered in one place, you are sure to run into one or two or fifteen people that you know...and it's always difficult to figure out exactly who gets a wave and who gets a hug. Just this week I stopped to say hi to someone who proceeded to hold out their arm to gesture to the great things happening around them, and I mistook it for an invitation for a hug. So I went in for a hug, which caught them off guard...and needless to say, ended in one of those awkward half-body squeezes. On top of that, there are those people that you run into because you're friends on social media but have never actually met them in real life. Like, "Oh, there's Susie's cousin on her mom's side whose son just moved to Aruba and whose dog just had surgery!" But then you just walk past with an awkward look at each other because you can't actually remember their name.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you Anna Kendrick for understanding this so well!</td></tr>
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Coast Guard is the time of year that all Grand Haveners either love (the rides, the food trucks, the friends) or hate (the parking, the people, the traffic). But regardless of what side you're on, whether you're a die-hard Coastie or a grumpy old codger, like me, <b><i>I think we can all agree that we are grateful for our Coast Guard men and women, and all of our armed forces who fight to protect our country</i></b>, and I guess if we have to put up with bikini tops and crowds and even awkward side-hugs with people who don't really want them, then that's the least we can do to say THANK YOU!<br />
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With lots of love from a grateful Small Town Girl</div>
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<br />Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-10828152219593789792018-07-30T09:01:00.001-04:002018-07-30T09:17:04.324-04:00Baseball and Jesus<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezs0-DcDhxsrPAMtJGEJcNs3QsEOAvCFn76e6hTbV-xJI7AFH4hqAjDDUwLn4usLBk2mVRen6hueJXkwpiWAYJrJmkQm3crawAxF8_kUe4TYZLOMoyVjPGmwEg5QzREnejY5L7IvabFrX/s1600/Francesca+M.+Healy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="560" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezs0-DcDhxsrPAMtJGEJcNs3QsEOAvCFn76e6hTbV-xJI7AFH4hqAjDDUwLn4usLBk2mVRen6hueJXkwpiWAYJrJmkQm3crawAxF8_kUe4TYZLOMoyVjPGmwEg5QzREnejY5L7IvabFrX/s320/Francesca+M.+Healy.png" title="The Boys of Summer" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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The thing about travel baseball is that it takes up <b>YOUR ENTIRE LIFE.</b> This summer more than ever before, we have been driving and sitting and cheering and yelling and packing up and driving and doing all again 24 hours later. We've been to Rockford and Grandville and Grand Rapids and South Bend and Mishewaka and Evanston. We've searched for shade in 105 degree weather and wrapped up in blankets in 50 degree weather, and we've missed church for a month. Seriously...today someone new was sitting in our normal spot and we had to find a new place to sit. They've probably been sitting in that same spot for the past month and thought that we were first-time visitors...that is how long it has been!<br />
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So I was torn this morning when Carson (who is in Chicago without me) had a game that started at 10, but church (which is in Spring Lake) started at 11, and I had to make a choice. Watch his baseball game on Game Changer or worship Jesus? I mean...it's an obvious choice, right? So I did what any good Christian mom would do and went to church and set my phone in the coffee cup holder in front of me (thank goodness for millenials!) and watched the game on the Game Changer app while Pastor Thad preached about the Sermon on the Mount. It was the only possible solution, really.<br />
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Look, Game Changer is a lifesaver. It's a real-time app that shows everything that is going on in the game. It's like being at the game...but not. And after investing all of my time in this year's season, <b><i>I'm sure you can understand why I may have peeked open an eye and checked the score while at the same time singing Cory Asbury's Reckless.</i></b> I have to admit that this was hard for me, I mean...I am a hand-raiser (if you want the details, check out this previous <a href="http://smalltownjenn.blogspot.com/2013/08/on-being-handraiser.html" target="_blank">blog</a> that I wrote about being a handraiser). But I'm also a baseball mom...and I mean, of course Jesus is more important...but I still peeked. A few times.<br />
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The real challenge came after worship when we had to sit down and I had to move my phone from the coffee holder in front of me to under my leg in order to have a better view. (I mean, I would have set it out on my Bible, but I thought that might be disrespectful.) Everything was going well until the offering basket was passed and I had to stand up to hand it to the lady down the aisle. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Unfortunately, my phone, which had been tucked under my thigh on the theater-style seat, went flying onto the floor in the aisle behind me, and the girl sitting there had to tap me on the shoulder and hand it back. </i>Oops. I wanted to explain...it's not like I was checking Insta...I was supporting my kid...and that's the whole point of being a Christian mom anyway, right? Probably?<br />
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The hardest part, however, was that just as the sermon started, so did the 7th inning. The other team had a 2-run lead, and of all things Carson was up to bat. I'm going to be honest...at this moment I have no idea what Pastor Thad was talking about...but also <b><i>I was praying the whole time, so I feel like that should count for something.</i></b> Here's the reader's digest version:<br />
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<b>Carson</b>: Hits a double<br />
<b>Me</b>: Excited look at Kaitlyn, control urge to jump up and cheer.<br />
<b>Next batter</b>: Another double, Carson scores. We're down by one.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Clenched teeth, stomach in knots<br />
<b>Next batter:</b> Single<br />
<b>Next batter:</b> Walk<br />
<b>Me:</b> Grab Kaitlyn's hand and hold my breath while making eye contact with Pastor Thad to make it look like I'm paying attention.<br />
<b>Next batter:</b> Hits into a double play (this is bad and means that 2 outs happen at once)<br />
<b>Me</b>: Try not to cry<br />
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Ok, if you don't know baseball, this is what you should know...<b><i>It's the bottom of the 7th, there are 2 outs, and the stress level is high. This is it.</i></b> And then...the next kid...with two strikes on him...hits a double...and Carson's team wins dramatically...And the crowd goes wild...except not, because that would be inappropriate in church. So instead, I hold back my excitement, drop my phone in my purse, and start taking notes on the Sermon on the Mount...I mean, I heard most of it...and probably the most important part. Probably.<br />
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So this is the thing. I love Jesus <i><b>and</b></i> I'm a baseball mom. And most of the time I get to focus on both. But sometimes...I mean every ONCE IN AWHILE...<b><i>my two worlds collide, and this mom just does the best that she can to make sure that both Jesus and Carson know that I love them.</i></b> And while I may not always get it right, when Carson got home tonight, I was excited to talk to him about his game-saving double...and about church, which, by the way was about not judging others...<br />
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So feel free to think on that.<br />
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And in the meantime, I'm grateful for a wonderful baseball season and for the upcoming period of rest that we get to have in which we get to return to church and hopefully get our seats back...until fall ball...which I think might start next week.<br />
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Lots of love from a baseball and Jesus kind of Small Town Girl.</div>
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0Ottawa County, MI, USA42.811521745097906 -86.48437517.289487245097906 -127.792969 68.33355624509791 -45.175781tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-67560644414088464202018-07-23T22:33:00.001-04:002018-07-30T07:53:48.318-04:00Small Town InstantPotPlease. For the love of all things holy. <b><i>Can somebody please just write a manual on how to use the damn InstantPot.</i></b> Seriously. I'm not talking about a cookbook here...I have one of those. (You can see it <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-complete-crock-pot-express-multi-cooker-cookbook-betty-moore/1127605420?ean=9781981361335&st=PLA&sid=BNB_DRS_New+Core+Shopping+Top+Margin+EANs_00000000&2sid=Google_&sourceId=PLGoP210214&gclid=Cj0KCQjwnNvaBRCmARIsAOfZq-3hI_pDrfnaE64SWHha_VrbXskMknqrNXp4m-COB35WzHhoWeGLNlgaAtLeEALw_wcB" target="_blank">here</a>. It says quick and easy meals...it lies.) It has these lovely recipes with pictures of pork tenderloin in a honey ginger glaze and lemon chiffon cake.<br />
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Pork tenderloin and lemon chiffon cake? Who has time for that? I'm not even talking about the time it takes to cook it (that's the whole point of the InstantPot, right?) I'm talking about the time it takes to go to the store and buy a pork tenderloin to make that type of recipe. I spend 4 days a week watching my kid play baseball. And the other 3 trying to recover. Who. Has. Time?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gRhMwV5UBuXdzrjpzc6nqL_fHH2dQM_KvSww63R-a5BCmJ7f56BQnlaRhGLiDxHVx6p1_N8Mcj3Z_l3j5wy2OCktcc6-tpW7TXbXDwieqQhTwoZdiV6JvwhN7FFMMMiI-Uz78qyXP-gY/s1600/IMG_2363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gRhMwV5UBuXdzrjpzc6nqL_fHH2dQM_KvSww63R-a5BCmJ7f56BQnlaRhGLiDxHVx6p1_N8Mcj3Z_l3j5wy2OCktcc6-tpW7TXbXDwieqQhTwoZdiV6JvwhN7FFMMMiI-Uz78qyXP-gY/s320/IMG_2363.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who the heck is making yogurt in this thing???</td></tr>
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What I need is this: <b><i>I need someone to tell me exactly which buttons to push in order to put 4 frozen chicken breasts and a can of salsa into the pot and end up with a finished meal.</i></b> Instead, every single tutorial online says something like this:<br />
<br />
1. Saute the chicken breasts in olive oil<br />
2. Add onion and garlic,<br />
3. Add a jar of salsa<br />
4. Choose the amount of time you would like it to simmer<br />
5. Adjust the pressure to your desired level<br />
<br />
Desired level? What levels are there? My desired level is DONE. Is there a level for that? Look, I need to push a button. Just one. And end up with a meal that will feed my family.<br />
<br />
I have tried everything.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Chicken breasts with veggies, canned diced tomatoes, garlic and onions...BURNT. </li>
<li>Chicken breasts with veggies, canned diced tomatoes, garlic and onions, PLUS a 1/2 cup of water...SOUP. </li>
</ul>
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<b>What. The. Actual. Hell.</b></div>
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<br />
Today it was rice. <b><i>RICE</i></b>. I looked up the directions and they were fairly simple:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>1 cup rice, 1 cup water, press button. So I did. </li>
</ul>
<br />
Look, no where in the directions did it say to <b><i>CLOSE</i></b> the steam valve. But apparently that's a thing. Because if you don't, you end up with crunchy rice, like barely done. I mean, it was soft enough to eat without breaking a tooth...but barely. It was rice, people. <b><i>IT SHOULD NOT BE THAT DIFFICULT!</i></b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1 c. rice, 1 c. water, push button.</td></tr>
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<br />
When my friend RandiLynn first got her InstantPot for Christmas she was disappointed to find out that she couldn't just push a button and instantly have a recipe pop out (like, without putting ingredients in...) I laughed at her and rolled my eyes. It's possible that I patronizingly said something like, "I can't believe you can't figure out how to use an InstantPot, it's not that hard..."<br />
<br />
RandiLynn...I am so sorry. Girl, I stand with you in solidarity against something that advertises itself as "Instant" and then asks us to download directions that don't make sense and turn buttons and valves that I am convinced are actually programed to work against us. <b><i>You were right. This thing is a mess.</i></b><br />
<br />
So this is it. I am saying goodbye to my InstantPot. It's shoved in the back of the cupboard with the Ninja blender & weird apple peeler/corer thing that nobody ever uses...until the next time I get inspired to make something in 12 minutes or less. But in that case...I could just order pizza...because really, for that I just need to press one button. On my phone. And voila...a complete meal.<br />
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Lots of love from your Small Town Girl </div>
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<br />Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-57218163360963436022018-07-14T19:58:00.002-04:002018-07-16T09:22:35.269-04:00Small Town NinjasAging is strange thing. It starts with one gray hair, and then it spirals quickly into realizing that American Ninja Warrior is no longer a life-option. It’s a depressing realization really, as I watch these bubbly (and buff) normal-looking people from midwest America climb, jump, and salmon-ladder their way to $1,000,000. They are 22 and 28, and even 35 years old. There’s an occasional 40 year old who garners immediate admiration from the co-hosts (can you believe that at his age he can still... ) and sends America into a frenzy, realizing that <i><b>this elderly 40 year old has managed to stave off the arthritis and knee replacement surgery expected of anyone who has passed their 39th birthday. </b></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I</td></tr>
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The first realization of this aging process may have started with me overly-admiring the Cowboy Ninja last night as he showed up on the platform looking like (insert sexy country artist name here) in a sleeveless flannel shirt, jeans, and a cowboy hat. Mostly I appreciated his backstory and the endearing way that he tipped his hat to his wheelchair-bound wife, but I’ve also got to admit that his arms may have caught my attention as well...<br />
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<i><b>Here is the transcript of Chris and my actual Ninja-watching conversation:</b></i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<div>
<b>Me:</b> *super impressed* Wow...he’s...</div>
<div>
<b>Chris:</b> *super unimpressed* Wearing jeans. He’s wearing jeans. And a cowboy hat. Who does that?</div>
<div>
<b>Me: </b>*still impressed* Well, it doesn’t seem to be slowing him down</div>
<div>
<b>Chris: </b>* still unimpressed and slightly annoyed* He’s never going to finish the course wearing<br />
those...Oh, please, now he’s taking off his shirt.</div>
<div>
<b>Me: </b>*deeply engrossed in watching the shirtless cowboy*</div>
<div>
<b>Chris:</b> I could do that, you know.</div>
<div>
<b>Me:</b> *skeptical* Hmmm...could you?</div>
<div>
<b>Chris: </b>*Annoyed at me for being skeptical* Seriously. If it weren’t for my bum knee. And my <br />
shoulder. Have I told you about my shoulder?</div>
<div>
<b>Me:</b> *sighing* Yes babe, I know. Have I told you about <i>my </i>shoulder? And my neck. I slept weird last night. Now that we’re talking about it, could you grab the Biofreeze?</div>
<div>
<b>Chris: </b>*rubbing Biofreeze on my neck* We used to be such good athletes.</div>
<div>
<b>Me:</b> *slightly depressed* I know.</div>
<div>
<b>Chris:</b> *finally impressed* Oh look, The Cowboy Ninja made it up the wall.</div>
<div>
<b>Me:</b> *sighing again and smelling like menthol*</div>
<div>
<b>Chris: </b>I’m serious. I could do that, you know. If it wasn’t for my knee.</div>
<div>
<b>Me: </b>I know, babe, I know.<br />
<br />
And there you have it. <i><b>The moment that we realized that aging had taken us out of the game.</b></i> Seriously, how did this happen? We used to be athletes, and not to brag (ok, I'm totally bragging) but Chris and I have a few All-Something-or-other awards between us. We've earned trophies and medals, and yet, age has gotten the better of us and we are sitting here complaining about our joint pain and slathering Biofreeze on our bodies like it's sunscreen. *sigh*<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jOsou5q-Zr2Yc0sbWFsHSMP4eDcXaBiwXeO_TPoMPWgb_erizr7i_RXA5wEsXxPr7hlc5yzVSvpbsoQPnpBw7KAJqFoi8DDp1nUwG567vTVW-YDxxMh1o8baguAJX59BRPRUG0aTURaJ/s1600/Athletes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jOsou5q-Zr2Yc0sbWFsHSMP4eDcXaBiwXeO_TPoMPWgb_erizr7i_RXA5wEsXxPr7hlc5yzVSvpbsoQPnpBw7KAJqFoi8DDp1nUwG567vTVW-YDxxMh1o8baguAJX59BRPRUG0aTURaJ/s320/Athletes.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proof...</td></tr>
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Maybe, just maybe this is a wake up call. Like...if his knee gets better, and our shoulders stop aching, and we become motivated, and there’s enough Biofreeze in the tube to keep us numb...well just maybe, you’ll see the debut of <b><i>Cheerleader Ninja and Dad-bod Ninja,</i></b> and as we walk up the podium the co-hosts will stare in awe and say, “Can you believe that at their age...”<br />
<br />
But more than likely, we’ll sit on the couch and watch others climb the warped wall, and enjoy the fact that at least we both smell like menthol when we climb into bed at night.<br />
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With lots of love from a 40-something, Non-Ninja, Small Town Girl<br />
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-91722836659870755772017-05-14T17:31:00.000-04:002017-05-14T17:40:58.653-04:00Small Town Mother's Day <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm obsessed with <a href="https://www.shipt.com/main/" target="_blank">Shipt. </a> Are you familiar with it? It's this new service coming to our Small Town in which you can order your groceries via an app and have them delivered to your front porch within an hour. <i>WITHIN AN HOUR!</i> This service doesn't actually start in Grand Haven until May 25th, but I'm already dying about it. Seriously, <b><i>I've stopped counting down the days until the end of school and started counting down the days until Shipt starts.</i></b> You have to understand, I haven't been grocery shopping in over a month. <i>OVER A MONTH!</i> And my kids are tired of subsisting on ketchup and Lucky Charms (dry, because I found out today that our milk is a week overdue). Actually, they've been subsisting on gas station food. Sheila, the morning clerk at Shell has become a friend, and as I was grabbing my gas station coffee on Friday she asked, "Are you still out of cream?" Which is slightly embarrassing because I told her I was out of cream on Monday...and 5 days later, well, still no change. She also knows my kids' breakfast order: 1 Apple Juice, 1 Luna Bar, 1 PopTart, and 1 Vernors. The total is $8.56, and this is what we've been eating for breakfast <i>EVERY SINGLE DAY</i> for the past week.<br />
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It's not that I don't necessarily have <i>time</i> to go to the grocery store, I mean I've had the opportunity to watch 9 episodes of <i>The Client List</i> on Netflix since Monday, so I probably could've actually gone shopping; it's just that by the time I get home from a long day at work, <i><b>the last thing I want to do is run to the store...or cook dinner...or clean the house.</b></i> (Have I told you about Ruth in Punta Cana? If not, read <a href="http://smalltownjenn.blogspot.com/2017/04/small-town-spring-break.html" target="_blank">here</a> to understand why I should probably move the the D.R.) And it's not that I haven't gone to the store <i>at all. </i>In fact, last night I was asked to bring a salad to our Mother's Day celebration, so I stopped at D & W and grabbed 2 pre-made Michigan salads (you know, the one with dried cherries, blue cheese crumbles, walnuts, and hard-boiled eggs) and placed them in a salad bowl to look semi-homemade-ish. Honestly, I served this with half a bottle of salad dressing poured into a little mason jar, and all of a sudden, I was Susie Homemaker!<br />
<br />
But seriously, this is why I'm obsessed with Shipt. Because really, that's all we all want, right? Time. Time to hang out with our kiddos...or time to watch Netflix if we so choose...time to drink a glass of wine with our girlfriends...or time to just sit. <b><i>Seriously, what I wouldn't give for a moment to JUST SIT. </i></b><br />
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So on this Mother's Day, I'm counting down the days until my groceries end up on my doorstep and I can actually feed my children something of substance without actually taking the time to drive to the store to buy it...and in the meantime, I am just grateful for Sheila at the Shell station who encourages me every morning with a bright smile as I buy my kids Luna Bars and Pop Tarts, and I'm grateful for my kids who think that gas station breakfasts are pretty much the best thing ever anyway. I'm grateful for my hubby who is content with pre-packaged salad and a rotisserie chicken and considers it a homemade meal, and <b><i>I'm grateful for all of my momma friends out there who are also doing their best to keep it all together and never judge me because they know that they too might hit a phase of life in which Shipt might become their saving grace. </i></b> Most of all, on this Mother's Day, I'm just grateful. Crazy-paced life and all, now that I have a personal grocery shopper, I wouldn't change a thing...well, I'd like a clean house too...in fact, I'm looking into hiring a cleaning lady...but that's a story for another time.<br />
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<i><b>Blessings on this warm, sunny Small-Town Mother's Day!</b></i></div>
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-35961115188823778862017-04-09T13:59:00.001-04:002017-04-09T13:59:07.596-04:00Small Town Spring Break<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day I almost thought about work.</td></tr>
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I'm not sure exactly what it is about the craziness of our lives that makes us crave Spring Break so much, but I feel like that is exactly what happened this year...it was like Spring Break couldn't come fast enough and couldn't last long enough. There was a moment (it was a very small moment) where I was sitting on the beach and I almost thought about work, <b><i>and then I went back to drinking my Pina Colada and reading my romance novel, and said, "not today, Satan!"</i></b><br />
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Spring Break does that to us. It breaks through real life and reminds us that we weren't designed for these 24/7 lives that we lead. It's no wonder that we're addicted to Netflix - life moves so quickly, that sometimes we just try to take mini-vacations by immersing ourselves in 7 seasons of Scandal, and then <b><i>we blink and realize that we've completely forgotten to shower or make dinner for our family in a week</i></b> (true story) but at least we've gotten a little bit of relaxation in the middle of our crazy lives. <br />
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This past week was wonderful. It consisted of beaches, food, naps, and Jeopardy...it was kind of like being a 2-year-old...or an 82 year old...all of which held nothing similar to 40-year-old Small Town Life. I would be remiss, however, if I didn't thank the two very special people that made this trip so amazing:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our stolen cabana!</td></tr>
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1. <b>Roberto. </b> Roberto was our beach waiter at the Playa Blanca Beach Club. There is something incredibly special about having parents who live in Punta Cana Village and have access to their own private beach club. Roberto is that something special. Granted, he makes his living off of tips, and my husband happens to be a generous tipper, so he was very attentive this week...but let me tell you...it made for an amazing beach week, including the day that <b><i>Roberto saw us and kicked another family out of a beach cabana and told them that it was ours for the day. </i></b> When the lady looked at me (and by looked I mean glared/scowled/tried to kill me with her eyes) and asked if we had paid for the cabana, I of course said "yes," so that she wouldn't punch me in the face and told Chris to make sure to tip Roberto extra so that I wouldn't be lying. That being said, the cabana was amazing...and aside from having to avoid the evil eye from the lady whose clothes Roberto literally picked up and threw on a beach chair directly in the sun, it was a perfect day.<br />
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2. <b>Ruth. </b>Ruth lives with my parents and she is their...well, person. She's not technically the maid, because SHE DOES EVERYTHING... literally, she cooks, cleans, and pretty much helps them survive. Before everyone gets all huffy and comments about the injustice of this, can I just please let you know that this is cultural and that EVERYONE in the DR has a person...it's a thing...<b><i>we have Starbucks and English-speaking television, and they have Ruth.</i></b> And Ruth is amazing. I didn't quite realize just how amazing until I returned home and had to make my own coffee in the morning...and dinner for my family (I mean...I didn't actually make dinner, but I did realize that Ruth wasn't here to do it, which is practically the same thing). And I had to do my own laundry (I didn't actually do that either...but I will...soon...probably). And I had to clean the house (again...same as the laundry...but you know what I mean!). I'm trying to get my mom to send Ruth to us for an extended stay in the U.S...kind of like an exchange program...she can take one of my kids and I'll take Ruth...but my mom is currently not on board with this. She actually said to me: "Jennifer, I work full time and don't get home until 2:30 from school, how would I be able to get anything done without Ruth!?"<br />
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I'm going to go ahead and pause right there. Full time? 2:30? <b><i>I'll just let that sink in and once again, make my case for why I need Ruth much more than she does.</i></b><br />
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There are so many other great memories. Beaches, palm trees, family time, the day that Kaitlyn had a giant wave crash into her while she was fully clothed...the list goes on and on. But like all great things, it's come to an end, and I'm sitting on my couch once again watching a House Hunters marathon and thinking about the cleaning that I should do and the lesson plans I should prepare before jumping back into real life, which this week includes baseball games, gymnastics practices, SATs and ACTs, and pre-prom preparations. You see, <b style="text-align: center;"><i>My calendar is full...but so is my heart. </i></b><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><br />
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And that is the beauty of Spring Break. It gives us moments in between the hectic events of our real life to truly relax and prepare for the next round of 24/7 craziness coming our way. <b><i>And while I'd rather face the craziness with Roberto and Ruth by my side, I'm just grateful for the 1 week of rest and relaxation that they helped me achieve.</i></b> Oh, and also...let me be honest, the people that truly made this trip so amazing? My mom and dad, of course. And Chris. And the kiddos. And, well, honestly? Roberto and Ruth were pretty darn special as well!<br />
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With much love from a very relaxed-and-ready-to-face-the-world Small Town Girl</div>
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-52405365639262398762017-03-20T19:13:00.000-04:002017-04-09T08:25:07.798-04:00Leftover TacosI'm sitting here trying to decide if I should order Arturo's Tacos. Tonight they are $1.00 each, and they are amazing! The problem is that last Monday I ordered 12 (it's the standard order for our family...I get 2, Kaitlyn gets 2, Chris gets 3, and Carson gets 5 and then eats a bowl of cereal, 2 pop tarts, and asks for Skoops because he's still hungry) but because no one is ever really home anymore, last Monday I sat and stared at those 12 tacos until 9:00pm and then shoved them in the fridge (actually there was no shoving because there really isn't anything else in there).<br />
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That's the thing with this phase of life...I have to admit that it's a bit lonely. It's not really anyone's fault. In fact, right now life is filled with so much good. Chris is coaching baseball, and Carson hangs out with him at the gym until 8 or 9 at night. Every day he insists that he has no homework, which I totally believe (not really, but it's way too much work to actually check online) and Kaitlyn's time is filled with babysitting and track and gymnastics and boyfriends (not multiple boyfriends...there's actually just the one) and youth group. And the truth is, I wouldn't want it any different for them. They are doing what they love. And I love watching them do what they love. But sometimes it's lonely. And sometimes I get stuck with 12 tacos.<br />
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Getting stuck with 12 tacos isn't all bad. In fact, last week Tuesday I decided to challenge myself to turn my leftovers into a great family dinner, and because I am practically an expert at watching Chopped on the Food Network, I figured that I would be an expert at making dinner out of leftovers too. So, I took all of the meat out of those tacos and cooked it up with some black beans and salsa, rolled that up into some flour tortillas that were in the cupboard and created a lovely enchilada sauce out of a can of tomato soup, ketchup, brown sugar and a packet of fajita seasoning...to be honest, by the time I made the sauce I was imagining that Alex Guarnischelli and I were pretty much best friends. I poured the sauce over my enchiladas and topped them with some shredded cheese, and by the time 8:30 rolled around, the rest of the family had made their way home from their various places and we were able to sit around the table and enjoy those 12 tacos...just in a different way than expected. I mean, we did have the following conversation:<br />
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Kaitlyn: Ummmm...this enchilada sauce is a little sweet<br />
Me: But good, right<br />
Kaitlyn: Yes...but sweet<br />
Chris: Babe, these are great!<br />
Me: Thanks, I made the sauce out of tomato soup<br />
Kaitlyn: Like I said...<br />
Me: You don't have to have any dinner tonight.<br />
Kaitlyn: These are great!<br />
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Overall, my Chopped challenge worked out, and those tacos-turned-enchiladas were one of the best dinners we've had in awhile (I mean...there's not really much competition because our other typical dinners come from Papa Murphy's or the D&W Deli). But it made me realize that I'm feeling a little bit like those leftover tacos right now...they're great, but we're not really in a phase where we have time for them anymore. <br />
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The unplanned Chopped challenge also helped me realize that leftovers aren't all that bad. Spending time on my own as my family is running around being awesome is giving me the opportunity to see what God has for me next, how he can use me, and what can he do with my life beyond just being a mom, and yet, even as I write this, I'm getting texts from my oldest. She needs stamps. And a prom dress. And dinner. And me. So I'm going to go ahead and order those tacos after all, and when everyone gets home they can dig in...or not...because if they end up in the fridge I can always change it up and make something special out of them tomorrow...because really, leftover tacos make some of the best family dinners.<br />
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Lots of love from a slightly lonely, but looking-forward-to-tomorrow Small Town Girl<br />
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<br />Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-3543312317812025462017-01-17T09:35:00.002-05:002017-01-17T09:35:25.958-05:00Small Town Snow Days<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My actual Parent Alert screen!</td></tr>
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There are two words that every student, teacher and parent looks forward to in January more than any other: SNOW and DAY... unless those words are repeated over and over and over again, until no one even remembers what it feels like to have a daily rhythm in their life and they have completely run out of Netflix options. This is the current conundrum of our household. 3 snow days, 1 holiday, and 1 late start, all within the last week, and at this point, no one actually remembers the route we take to school every morning, or even what classes they are taking.<br />
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The first snow day is always exciting. The kids flush ice cubes down the toilet and stick a spoon in the freezer the night before, anticipating an extra day of sleeping in. This year, on the first snow day, we made popcorn for breakfast and stayed in our PJs watching inspirational movies all day. By snow day number two, we had run out of inspirational movies and had moved on to "Central Intelligence," with the Rock and Kevin Hart, which was mostly inappropriate, but I pretty much just cringed and ignored it because we were out of options...and by yesterday, I had pretty much given up on life...I have no idea what the kids were watching, but Carson spent the day with an iPad and headphones...so I'm just hoping it wasn't anything that will turn him into a serial killer.<br />
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Today's ice day pretty much pushed me over the edge. There's something to be said about having structure to the day, and right now I have so little structure, that I keep forgetting to even feed my kids. At this point they're going to have to settle for whatever they can grab on their own - which, looking in the refrigerator, includes half a bag of frozen tater tots and a jar of pickles.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In case you thought I was kidding. And don't be fooled by the ice cream carton...it's empty, but we're all too lazy to throw it away!</td></tr>
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In an effort to get out of this snow day funk, I'm trying to make a list of things to do today based on recent suggestions I've been given by others. Here's what I have so far...<br />
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1. Go sledding. Except, there is no snow. And honestly, we don't really go outside unless it's above 60 degrees.<br />
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2. Bake something. Except, I only own one measuring cup and I'm not actually sure where it is. I do have some flour in the freezer, but I only have brown sugar (not white), so unless I can bake something with those options, we're out of luck.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I actually found the measuring cup! Right next to the rest of the unused kitchen appliances!</td></tr>
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<br />3. Work-out. Except, the couch already has an indentation from where I've been sitting for the past week, and it's really hard to get out of it. I could probably do some sit-ups from this position - but even that seems like a little too much effort.<br />
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That pretty much leaves me with catching up on America's Next Top Model, staring at the ceiling, or going to the store to buy food to feed my family. But since ANTM is only an hour long, and since I really don't have the energy to leave the house, I suppose that the most viable option is really to lay in my couch indentation and stare at the ceiling until this snow day is over. I will make an effort to melt all of the ice in the freezer so that no one can accidentally flush a cube down the toilet, and I've hidden all the spoons...and just in case, I'm also crossing my fingers so that I don't get any more early-morning notifications...until next week of course, when I'll probably need another snow day. But by then, my fridge will be restocked, and new movies will be out, so I'll be much more prepared to sleep in, make popcorn for breakfast and enjoy a day in my PJs.<br />
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Until then, a very happy small-town, snow day to everyone...here's hoping we all make it through!<br />
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<br />Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-56512621444284186902017-01-06T22:10:00.000-05:002017-01-06T22:11:48.926-05:00Well...I wrote a novel.Yesterday, I sat down and I finished the final page of my very first novel. Granted, it's taken me 7 years to complete it, and if you do the math, it's really not that impressive - <b>that's only 31 words per day.</b> Seriously, at that rate I could have written <i>Les Miserables</i> 3 times over! It figures though, it took me 11 years to finish my Bachelor's Degree, and another 10 to finish my Master's, at this point, 7 years is pretty much a record.<br />
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And speaking of <i>Les Miserables</i>, I have to be honest and say that my little novel is really not the literary gem that you might expect from an AP Literature teacher, in fact, it's much less Victor Hugo, and much more Hallmark Channel. It's one of those books that no one ever admits to reading - like a Harlequin Romance or a Nicholas Sparks book, but that everyone secretly enjoys. And that's the thing. <b>I. love. it.</b> Honestly, I just really love this story. It's lighthearted, people fall in love, and everyone lives happily ever after - and right now, it's at the top of my "favorite books I've ever read," list - but I'm probably a little biased.<br />
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Writing isn't easy (obviously - it's taken me 7 years to do it!) And believe me, <b>I'm no expert</b>. But here are a few things that I learned were especially difficult along the way.<br />
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1. <b>Language: </b>as in bad language...as in curse words. My personal vocabulary is pretty PG. We actually have a swear jar at our house, and Carson is <i>very </i>rigid about pointing out when someone needs to contribute. There are $5.00 words, which should really never be used, but sometimes slip out when Michigan loses to Ohio State in overtime, there are $1.00 words, which should really also not be used, but sometimes slip out when you slide along a slippery road and almost get hit by a semi (actually, if you want to go ahead and use a $5.00 word during that experience, you have full permission), and there are $.50 words that no one actually knows if they are swear words or not, for example:<br />
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Kaitlyn: I'm so pissed!<br />
Carson: That's a dollar!<br />
Kaitlyn: Pissed is not a swear word!<br />
Carson: Mom?<br />
Me: I don't know - put $.50 in the jar<br />
Kaitlyn: Ugggghhhhhhh!<br />
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The problem with language in a novel is that I am not a character, and even though I rarely use $1.00 words, other people do - including some of my characters. But to be honest, I just can't picture most of the characters getting themselves into situations in which they would say, "Oh gosh, golly, jee!" So there are some $1.00 words in there...and maybe a $5.00 word...<br />
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2. <b>Love Scenes: </b>Ok, so there isn't really a full out love scene in the book, because to be honest, I just couldn't do it. I felt that I could definitely leave the heaving breasts for someone else to write about. But there is kissing. And writing about kissing is a weird thing. Like, do you describe whether or not it's open mouth or closed mouth? Do you talk about the awkward head tilt or the weird sounds that are made. Regardless, it is a love story, and I couldn't very well have the happy couple seal the deal with a fist bump. So I closed my eyes and barrelled through...similar to my first actual kiss I would say.<br />
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3. <b>Relevance: </b>When you take 7 years to write a book, you realize just how much things change. I was going back through one of my first chapters and realized that the character, "flipped open her phone." Flipped open her phone? Who is this person? A grandmother? No, actually she is just someone stuck in 2009. My character was also at one point wearing a velour track suit...enough said.<br />
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Now for the real question...and the answer is no, I'm not looking to publish it (it's not nearly as well-written as a Harlequin Romance!) my goal was really just to finish. And I'm so glad I did. Because while I may have only written at the incredibly ridiculous rate of only 31 words-a-day, in the words of my husband who is over-the-top supportive of this endeavor, that's 30 words-a-day more than most people in the world - and after 7 years, I've finally even written the two little words that matter the most:<br />
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Much love from your very own Small-Town Writer!</div>
Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-48185461983978509342017-01-01T16:43:00.000-05:002017-01-01T18:10:32.816-05:00Small Town ResolutionsLast night I had the privilege of ringing in 2017 by watching the ball drop...well not THE ball, but A ball. The ball that our charming small-town community hangs from a crane and drops down a wire as the crowd counts down to the new year. To be honest, the ball is not quite the Swarovski chandelier that the New York crowd is used to, and instead my hubby looked at it and said, "hmmm...kind of looks like they made it with barbed wire and Christmas lights.<br />
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In all fairness, this is only the second year that our little town has held the midnight ball drop, and last year, my daughter exclaimed, "Maybe we shouldn't stand so close, it doesn't really look stable up there." So, our little town has made progress, and the ball drop has gotten more stable and made for a fun little event. In fact, despite the awkward jerking of the ball as it descended the wire, the crowd was fun and enthusiastic, and even us 40-somethings got excited about the celebration and joined the younger, hipper party-goers in our own attempt at selfie memories. My friend Amy's selfie attempt is here:<br />
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Basically, by the time we figured out how to change the direction of the phone camera - all while wearing gloves - the ball had already dropped and our picture ended up including the tops of our puffball hats and the black sky above us. All in all, a great memory!<br />
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As with each January 1st, this new year brings with it the anticipation of exciting new things as well as the stress of trying to decide which of the exciting new things I'm actually supposed to get excited about. I'm currently in a slight panic about all of the very motivated and organized women out there who have written down their goals, created resolution support groups on Facebook and posted very encouraging statuses such as:<br />
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<i><b>Today is the first blank page in a 365 page book, write a great story!</b></i></div>
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For real, I'm just trying to get through this week without locking my keys in the car, I'm not sure I can handle 365 pages of goal-achievement! That being said, in an attempt to make 2017 the best year yet, I did create a few manageable resolutions that I'm hoping won't make me cry by the end of the week.</div>
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1. <b>Exercise. </b> I feel like this is doable as long as I keep my expectations low - so like a few times a month...give or take. I used to work out all of the time. And then I just got tired...and busy...and I know that working out is not about <i>having</i> time but about <i>making </i>time, but right now I just can't make time...because that would mean giving up things like watching Netflix or sleeping in. I started today on this goal, and hubby and and I took a great 2 mile walk around the neighborhood - I even wore running shoes, and to be honest, my legs are already sore, so basically I ran a 5K.</div>
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2. <b>Do nice things. </b> This past year I watched my students do really nice things for others - they raised almost $20,000 just in the month of December, all to give away to others - I love that! And I love that they all began to understand life is really not about serving themselves but serving others. My goal is to hold on to that same others-centered living and do random acts of kindness that will change others' lives. I'm so excited about this goal that today I had my groceries put in paper bags instead of plastic - it's the little things!</div>
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3. <b>Wear red lipstick. </b>I really love red lipstick, but somewhere along the way I became too worried about what other people think, so I stopped wearing it. This is common for me - I often worry about what others think. In fact, I few years ago I was writing and blogging quite a bit, and then someone said to me, "Don't you think it's awfully narcissistic to think people want to read about your life?" So I stopped. Because I certainly don't want to be narcissistic (see goal #2) but really, writing about my life is kind of like wearing red lipstick - it's not for everyone, but I really love it! </div>
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My real goal this year is to <b>be brave</b> - in fact, BRAVE is my word for 2017. I've even written it down in my journal, so that I will remember to take risks, to try new things, and stop worrying about everyone else's opinion. </div>
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So in 2017 I'm going to wear more red lipstick...and write more, because really, it's 2017, and it's time to do new things, or maybe it's just time to do old things that I love, and when I do, I'm going to do them looking like a diva and writing all about it for all of my friends!</div>
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Here's wishing you a very happy and small town 2017!</div>
Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-67290691073319629492013-08-31T11:29:00.002-04:002013-08-31T11:29:45.935-04:00She Did NOT Just Say That Out Loud!So this is usually the time when I look back on the week and think of
something witty to write about in order to entertain my family and
friends. And actually, I have so much fodder this week...I mean, I
spent Wednesday morning talking to Freshmen and Sophomores about sex and
relationships...and guess who is in the Freshman class this year? Yup!
Kaitlyn. It was AWESOME to see her completely mortified when I said the
word "sex" out loud to a group of her peers...her friend Dorie turned
especially pink, and she was like, "Mrs. VanHekken did NOT just say that
out loud." Even better was when I read the lyrics to "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke out loud. You know it is every kid's dream to hear their mother read to their friends, "I know you want it. I know you want it. Must wanna get nasty. Go ahead get at me." Oh, it was a beautiful thing.<br />
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Anyway, more than the excitement generated by my underclassmen relationship seminar, I wanted to take a more serious turn today and share with you a little bit about my friends Marc and Gretchen Driesenga. Marc and I have taught English together for the past 2 years at WMC, and without a doubt I can say that he is one of the best teachers I have ever met (he did of course learn everything he knows from me....probably). Anyway, Marc and Gretchen heard and heeded God's call on their lives and moved from Grand Rapids, Michigan to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, Africa, to teach and minister at Haven of Peace Academy. In July they packed up all of their belongings (except for the 552 crates of movies that they left in our basement),<br />
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got on a plane, and began a new chapter of life 1/2 way around the world....oh, and I forgot to mention that they have a 5, 2, and 8 month old! Marc and Gretchen are an incredible couple, and I just wanted to share their journey with all of you. Chris and I support them financially knowing that every little bit is a part of growing God's kingdom, but I also know that they are still raising financial support as well. Above all, they covet our prayers. Even though you might not know them, I would encourage you to just lift them up in prayer...even if it's one of those "please bless that one couple that Jenn knows who moved to that one place somewhere in Africa." I'd also encourage you to subscribe to their blog. It's so interesting to hear about their life on the other side of the world...I know you will find so too. <a href="http://thedriesengafamily.blogspot.com/">Click here to read their entire blog...</a>and here is a little snippet from their latest:<br />
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I can honestly say that the first few days of school were not the same without Marc. I didn't have anyone to make fun of students with, and I didn't get to throw down the gauntlet for who would win this year's Project Grace challenge (I would never brag...but last year my class beat his by $6.00!!! I personally think he moved just so he wouldn't have to face defeat again.) But I know God has his hand on their lives, and anyway, we still have social media, so we'll just have to make fun of students via Twitter. And Facebook. And Instagram...and well really, I guess it's not really all that different after all!<br />
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Lots of Small Town Love from a Missing-and-praying-for-her-friends Small Town GirlSmall Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-11152182657667003752013-08-25T12:28:00.001-04:002013-08-25T12:28:36.800-04:00On Being a HandraiserSo here's the truth, I'm a self-proclaimed hand-raiser. Now, you either know exactly what I'm talking about, or you are completely lost in translation. Let me explain, a hand-raiser is one of those people in church who gets so caught up in the music that their hands fly up in the air in worship; I'll just let you know right now that I am also a hip-swayer, a knee-bouncer, and a eye-closer during times of worship, but most of all I'm a hand-raiser - hey I figure if Taio Cruz can convince us to "throw our hands up in the air sometimes singing Ay-o, gotta let go..." then so can Jesus!<br />
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Anyway, not everyone understands the whole hand-raising thing, and that's the great thing about so many different churches, there are sprinkle-with-water baptizers and dunk-until-they-need-a-life-jacket baptizers, there are organ-and-hymnal worshipers and drum-and-guitar-and-occasionally-a-weird-African-instrument worshipers. We're all different...as noted by my Dominican mother who recently commented on a cousin's wedding...<br />
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Mom: "We (meaning her giant Dominican family consisting of 132 first cousins) didn't even know if there was going to be dancing (gasp!) because your cousin and his wife go to one of "those" churches.<br />
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Me: "One of <i>those</i> churches?"<br />
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Mom: "You know, they're kind of different, and we (meaning her giant Dominican family consisting of 132 first cousins) don't know anything but Catholic.<br />
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Please let me pause here. No seriously. I just need to pause, because what I didn't say but wanted to (and I would write this in capital letters, but it's too long and I would look like I'm yelling...which I'm not) is...<br />
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Do you not remember that you raised us in West Michigan, and we grew up going to that will-remain-nameless-but-<i>fairly</i>-charasmatic-church in which Molly Magee* would dance wildly down the center aisle, speak in tongues at the top of her lungs, be slain in the spirit and fall down backwards after which time the elders would come wrap her in white sheets and carry her out into the lobby??? Hmmm.... <br />
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Anyway, it turns out my cousin's wedding wasn't all that extreme after all and everyone was relieved when they in fact did have dancing...of course they did, it was a Dominican wedding!!<br />
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Anyway, I may not be a speaking in tongues, slain-in-the-spirit kind of worshiper, but I'm definitely a hand-raiser, and with that I thought I'd share this little video with some fun, hand-raising humor (go ahead, it's only 2 minutes long) and don't worry, I'm not poking fun at anyone, I'm poking fun at myself (and you other hand-raisers out there)...it's like being Dominican, if you're Dominican you can make fun of Dominicans...but if you are Guatemalen? Oh no, don't you dare start making fun!!<br />
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Enjoy!!<br />
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And P.S...I'm definitely a "schoolroom" :)</div>
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Lots of filled-with-the-spirit, Sunday morning, Small town love,</div>
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<br />Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-63464440164005804532013-08-22T14:29:00.003-04:002013-08-22T14:29:35.757-04:00Apparently those aren't highlights<br />
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This whole "getting older" thing is frankly a bit out of control. I'm going to be honest here...people usually think I'm younger than what I actually am...especially my students who often can't believe I'm the same age as their parents (except for that one kid...who said he thought I was 45...but it's ok, I failed him.) Anyway, I can honestly say that I've been let down lately by the number of times that I have NOT gotten carded. Seriously, you're supposed to card anyone who looks under 40...and darn it, I look younger than 40! I think. At the very least, Shirley at the grocery store should be asking me for my ID because if I was going to buy alcohol underage I would have the perfect cover - what underage drinker brings two kids to the grocery store with her with her who call her mom every 10 seconds (which is what happens in the grocery line...usually accompanied by "can I have some gum/tictacs/candy/this movie/this magazine)" and if I were only 19 and the cashier asked for my ID, I would give her a haggard look and say, I'm sorry, I left it at home, but obviously I need this 6-pack of Zima because my kids are driving me crazy," and she would nod sympathetically and completely understand...this is why I should be carded...I could be a 19 year old completely pulling the wool over Shirley's eyes in the checkout line...CARD ME!<br />
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Possibly Shirley is not willing to card me because of the streaks of gray that have started decorating my hairline. The first time I saw them I thought they were highlights from the sun - silvery little streaks that I got without even investing in Sun-In...and then I realized that they weren't highlights...they were GRAY HAIRS! Or maybe Shirley has noticed my old-lady bunions - seriously, it's like I turned 36 and my feet decided to launch a rebellion against cute shoes. I used to toddle around on heels all day long, but all of a sudden my feet have grown these rebellious little knobs that are like, "fit me into an Aerosole or die!!!" I'm remembering the 70 year old wedding planner that worked with Chris and I when we got married; she had a wanky second toe that curled freakishly over her big toe, I was incredibly grateful not to have been endowed with her foot issues - alas, I spoke to soon. I had no idea that feet get mad at you for wearing heels your whole life and decide to fight back. I'm sorry...I don't do ugly shoes...I AM DOMINICAN.<br />
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It wouldn't be so bad if it were these two little superficial things, but it's kind of a wake up call when your doctor begins using the phrase, "At your age." Let me give you an example from earlier this summer:<br />
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"At your age, we want to be more aware of the risks for breast cancer, therefore we are ordering a mammogram." A mammogram?? I remember my mom's 1st mammogram - those are for old people, not cool, young people like me!!<br />
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And, "Your blood tests show that you are Vitamin D deficient and at a risk for osteoporosis." I'm sorry, what? Osteoporosis is what causes little old ladies to have a hunchback - I'm not at risk for that, my back wouldn't dare hunch on me!! <br />
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Or, also told to me by a doctor this summer, "I know that you have coached gymnastics your whole life, but at your age, you need to be more careful of the strain you put on your joints." I'm sorry...what?? At my age? I thought I was just hitting my prime...that's what the magazine's say, but apparently not, apparently I'm hitting the "at your age" age, which came a lot faster than I thought it would.<br />
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Anyway, there is still a bit of silver lining (aside from those in my hair). Yesterday Kaitlyn was updating me about an episode of Toddlers and Tiara's (of course), and our conversation went like this:<br />
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Kaitlyn: "Yeah, there was this crazy mom, not, you know, a cute mom like you."<br />
Me: "I'm sorry...did you just call me a cute mom??"<br />
Kaitlyn: "Yeah, and then they were interviewing her..."<br />
Me: "Wait, like a cute mom, like I look cute?"<br />
Kaitlyn: "Mom! I'm trying to tell you a story!"<br />
Me: "Chris, did you hear that? Kaitlyn called me a cute mom!"<br />
Kaitlyn: "Oh my gosh, stop."<br />
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So anyway, I may be looking slightly older than 21, and I may have gray hairs and old person feet, and I may have to take it easy in my old age because of my hunchback, but really, all that matters is that my teenage daughter thinks I'm a cute mom, and that's good enough for me...well until next month...which is my birthday...and I'm hoping for botox as a gift...you know, just to be a cute mom a little bit longer.<br />
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Lot's of gray and wrinkled small-town love.<br />
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-66088787099169838502013-08-12T15:46:00.002-04:002013-08-12T16:11:29.264-04:00Small Town Weekend<br />
Seriously, one of the best weekends ever in which there was a whole lotta nothin' goin' on...but the best kind of nothin' - you know...no guests, no cookouts, no beach parties, no family birthday parties...boring? maybe...but relaxing? H-E-Double Hockey Sticks yeah!<br />
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So here's the lowdown...<br />
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1. I finished The Paris Wife, which I loved and I hated at the same time. It made me want to read more Hemingway...sort of, but not really. Right...that's how I feel too, not sure what to think.<br />
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2. Watched Little Buddy golf a round at his grandparents...well, not really a round, more like 6 & 1/2 holes...he got bored after that...so glad we invested in those clubs for him.<br />
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3. Set up an appointment for Leo to get declawed...this was our last roll of toilet paper which created a mad scramble to Walgreens for an emergency weekend supply before this week's weekly shopping.<br />
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4. Got crafty...if you consider using chalk crafty...but I did make a double line on the "M" and the "U" of menu which makes it a bit fancy. My kids were in awe...seriously, Little Buddy asked, "are you going to do this <i>every</i> week??" Followed by a suspicious, "What happens on Saturday and Sunday?" No worries bud, Jimmie Johns is on speed dial.<br />
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5. Returned books to the library where I failed to park within the lines, but in my defense, this bumper guard clearly shows that it's the library's fault and not mine...seriously, how many people have to nail this corner before they widen the spaces in the parking garage...incidentally, I also found out that no, you cannot return books from another local library to the current library where you originally checked out the book...apparently my library card record shows I have been doing all summer...and apparently they charge for it...but my balance is currently at $9.54, and you don't have to pay until it's over $10.00, so...I'll just wait. <br />
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6. And finally, I watched Baby Girl do wall splits in order to practice her scorpion for cheer. This just happens to be a picture in which she slightly lost her balance and fell (not hard of course...I mean, not too hard) face first into the stairwell. I of course went to help her after I cursed the fact that I had only taken a pic and not a video...better luck next time (for her of course, not me).<br />
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Anyway, that was my weekend, and it was wonderful! Hope yours was too!<br />
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<img alt="Southern Sunflowers and Coffee Beans" height="166" src="http://i47.tinypic.com/2ii7sye.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Link up to <a href="http://www.southernsunflowersandcoffeebeans.com/">Logan</a> here</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Link up to <a href="http://www.samisshenanigans.com/search/label/weekend%20shenanigans">Sami</a> here<br />
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Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-51430671323468342782013-08-09T09:04:00.000-04:002013-08-09T09:04:22.917-04:00One Man's Trash...So this week I stopped by an estate sale that was recommended to me by one of my colleagues...she felt that there was some clothing there that was "just my style." After rummaging through lace tablecloths (not my style), and thick-soled sandals (not my style), I came across a pair of Miss Me jeans for $25.00 + 1/3 off (I don't teach math, otherwise I would have given you a more accurate price). Anyway, the jeans were in great shape...and after being led into the back yard to use the homeowner's fishing trailer (we <i>were</i> in Fruitport) as a dressing room...I decided to buy them. Carson found a 1966 blue and yellow license plate for $8.00 (plus 1/3 off) that he wanted, and I headed to the check out line with both items to do a little negotiating...which I am bad at. It went like this...<br />
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Me: Would you take $20.00 for both of these items?<br />
Seller: These are $100.00 jeans<br />
Me: Aren't they on sale for $25.00 + 1/3 off?<br />
Seller: Yes<br />
Me: Is the license plate also 1/3 off?<br />
Seller: Yes<br />
Me: Would $20.00 work for both items together<br />
Seller: No, that comes to $22.11<br />
Me: I'm not sure I have 11 cents<br />
Seller: I'll give you a deal and take $22.00<br />
Me: Ummm...Ok (awkwardly fumbling through my wallet for $22.00)<br />
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So here's the way that I see it...I am the world's worst negotiator - getting an 11 cent deal really doesn't count in the world of business...and therefore I will stick to teaching English. This whole situation reminded me of a similar one down in Florida, so I thought I'd flash it back for you on this Friday morning, and share a Florida Chick post from 2009...enjoy!<br />
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Oh, and by the way, I would totally post a picture of the Miss Me jeans, but that would mean taking a selfie in the bathroom mirror, and I'm just not sure that I'm really up for making a fish face in front of my toilet...not happenin' today folks!<br />
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Lots of Small Town, Bargain Hunting Love,<br />
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<br />Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-62806936284933762112013-08-07T11:13:00.000-04:002013-08-07T11:13:38.461-04:00I Would Work For... So it's Wednesday, I know you are all sitting around doing NOTHING but waiting for me to link up with <a href="http://emyselfandi.com/">E, Myself, and I</a> for midweek confessions...but actually, I'm throwing out a curveball and linking up with <a href="http://livinginyellow.com/">Erin at Living in Yellow</a> this week for "I would work for..." Basically if WMC ran out of money (seriously, it's a private school...this is totally possible) what reimbursement would have me coming in day after day without a paycheck...and honestly, this is pretty much a confessional anyway...<br />
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1. The "accidental" death of Sallie Mae. Seriously, she's a witch with a capital B. Before you freak out on me, of course I'm not trying to order a hit on anyone...I'm Dominican, not Sicilian! And seriously, she's not a person...she's the ginormous corporation that feels the need to constantly remind me every. single. month. that I got my education degree from a private college...and for some reason she feels like I need to pay her back in full...ugh. I hate her...and if any of you Sicilians out there know how to get rid of her...seriously, hook a girl up.<br />
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2. A laundry folder/bathroom cleaner. This is usually Kaitlyn's job, but since she's off nannying this week (and making enough money to get Sallie off my back, might I add), my laundry is just sitting in the basket getting wrinkles. I don't know what it is about folding laundry that I can't handle...seriously, I could just pop in front of <i>Honey Boo Boo</i> for an hour and get those babies folded up...but I. just. can't. My Dominican mom doesn't understand this..."You need a nice lady like my Crucita, to come in and take care of your house for you." Yes mom, I do, but THIS IS AMERICA, and if Crucita were working here pretty soon INS would show up, and pretty much that's why I have a teenage daughter instead.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This basket of laundry has been sitting in the basement for a FULL WEEK.</td></tr>
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3. Non-curly hair. I realize that I've previously discussed the misconceptions surrounding curly hair (it has so much bounce...it's so full...you must wake up with beachy waves) but seriously, I'm about sick of the messy bun that I have been wearing for the past 6 months, and I'm even more sick of looking like Mufasa every time I take it down. I remember the good old days when Sarah Frego and I would stay up until 2 in the morning giving her a Clairol home perm (and to be honest, I'm not sure that was even a great choice back in the 80s) but seriously, curly hair is not for the faint of heart...or for me. Give me a lifetime supply of Brazilian blowouts and I will give you a lifetime of devotion in return.<br />
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Eai+JkGmxYVQFAuucFFNM85Vefh2Q6WFGgeYIIPIggkGZ8RwpWiLK6cbE0aBdQ2kn9Y4jICuMDcqhB9vG5A/YiWC9pJ9QW2rEuBcdUaYhFJFeesc/aCKaZ9+isy8M6mmUqQA24rY1R/rPG4dhdqfDz2O35+XOWL58RV0bIWG7aqfxW4YooI2NDrQsn9ZXFdo4nx6VfQ7/UJ/EEXUMYKkAXyWg29AHzuGvTp48VJiwMxpRZq+mw8yTsOcyxcJkYlVQlluwBuK53N/B5gv1FtQXUKGI1LYYN/KdiBzrykvFxqBlY5NTFshYkMCWa1GQ7VQQ7dbJ2HUzTRTPOVbi4Zm6EAhzZBAOlSxo9dhGLhXatKk3Z5UKBA2YmuZr9alzxPG4nJC5dKrjYU+umb6P01KUNgLqqHU73I2PjFXF9Jcg1C/EynT+MNW6k73fLmo84b9OmJ5qw4monSaBomjQPkTMZc8TxqZMa4xlOsqdbPqCteR3rYeFidLE0QdhYo3TgCjvvtt5w510xHKXkREOZERAREQEREBM3zMQAWJCigCSQB5AHlMIhSIiEIiICZpmYAhWIDbEAkWPI1zmEQpERCEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBE6zu7y+snxb7x3d5fWT4t95H17ncdrk4nWd3eX1k+LfeO7vL6yfFvvBudx2uTidZ3d5fWT4t947u8vrJ8W+8G53Ha5OJ1nd3l9ZPi33ju7y+snxb7wbncdrk4nWd3eX1k+LfeO7vL6yfFvvBudx2uTidZ3d5fWT4t947u8vrJ8W+8G53Ha5ObuEyAE2AbVxuaG4PPz8q9503d3l9ZPi33ju7y+snxb7wRZ3Efb8KjJjwFnbY+N1/GBtf+YP3Gw8phw/B4i9OQqlmUeMcqpTd9TZJ5be8uu7vL6yfFvvHd3l9ZPi33h03bXz9HwpcnC49SAUULsLVlLG9ABrmRd7Ecr5TLPixMSRpBRcZrUAGtd1A9tuW+x61Lnu7zesnxb7zzu7y+snxb7wbtr9nwrP4XhwQwINswosDpUAHVpPPnyvnXvNI4fCUV9ixUsy6wuncruOh/1bXy9wJc93eX1k+LfeO7vL6yfFvvC7tr/wCv4U3EcPi8Wkqb+mQbT8Ph1EDoee3M0doy4sABJFXrApwxpVJUgDlqbSP3lz3d5fWT4t947u8vrJ8W+8Ju2v2fCiz4saFWWiAwNXua8ms7A10BmwYsJDudJOkuoDbE09irv8WjbyBlz3d5fWT4t947u8vrJ8W+8ZN21+z4VD4OHKnSwpcnPUNRSj4qPS9qHPaa83B49LMCus5MlBXWlQEEHT1FE7XfLaXfd3l9ZPi33ju7y+snxb7wTba8/Z8KXh+Gw66egpYC9e+kdf8Adv8AlQ5dY/EDFoBTZvASLOxIOoAHoCBv5mdF3d5fWT4t947u8vrJ8W+8JNrr4xsfDk4nWd3eX1k+LfeIY3O47XeRESPTkREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERAREQEREBERA//9k=" 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4. Vera Bradley. Not the bags, the woman. No, I'm just kidding, the bags (is there actually a woman named Vera Bradley?? Totally researching that after I finish writing this). So, I'm not really a florally type of person...I'm kind of like clean lines, solid colors...I'm not even shabby chic...I'm more like Pottery Barn...which is why I can't quite figure out my obsession with Vera bags - they're a bit old lady-y and that in itself makes me cringe...I'm not even 40 yet, people!! The crazy thing is that I LOOOOVE my school bag, and my hipster, and my phone case, and I would totally not be opposed to adding ipad case and wallet to that list. This presents a problem because SALLIE MAE keeps getting in my way of investing everything I have into a Vera-printed luggage set...I hate her! I would draw the line at Vera PJ's though...floral school bag = good, floral nightgown = Chris would KILL ME.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcL3Wk2Ywr0ri9cbVEJsKFrEkuEc_EsC1XM3KvtOPsvkMu1s5slO_7IEWLrAAQdyBdj3cnpWN7VPlU6uEvCx3gBQVPkxcDWuWFc7lMZUMW2xVTB6w_b7PzSYBADOuvt-EctDy1qay37_wq/s1600/IMG_1518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcL3Wk2Ywr0ri9cbVEJsKFrEkuEc_EsC1XM3KvtOPsvkMu1s5slO_7IEWLrAAQdyBdj3cnpWN7VPlU6uEvCx3gBQVPkxcDWuWFc7lMZUMW2xVTB6w_b7PzSYBADOuvt-EctDy1qay37_wq/s320/IMG_1518.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas 2012...Thanks, Mom!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And Finally,<br />
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5. I think it's completely safe to acknowledge that I would totally work for selfish ambition and vain conceit. Seriously...get me ahead in life? I'm there. Which is apparently not an acceptable reason to work (Phil 2:3, NIV) and therefore I have pretty much decided that working without pay is probably not on my radar. I'll stick to a paycheck, give Sallie her monthly "Thank you for giving me the money to eventually get myself a job in order to pay you back" check in the mail, hug my daughter as she folds the laundry, and continue adding Vera bags to my Christmas wishlist. That being said, the next time my mom comes to the States for a visit, she better as heck bring Crucita with her!! For real!!<br />
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Lots of Small Town Love, <br />
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<br />Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-61938769000412300152013-08-06T18:23:00.002-04:002013-08-06T18:34:36.654-04:00Why I don't watch the news......Basically because I find it much less interesting than <i>Toddler's and Tiaras</i> and <i>Honey Boo Boo</i>. That being said, I was basically challenged in my principles this week when my mom called me out on this whole issue. She's visiting from the Dominican Republic (here's a map just in case you were like "The Whatican Rewhat?")<br />
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" 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This is where my mom is from, and where my parents live now. It's a small island in the Caribbean that shares space with Haiti...but don't bring that up to Dominicans...they're kind of sensitive about it.</div>
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Anyway, my mom was visiting this weekend from the Dominican Republic and we had ourselves the following conversation:</div>
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Mom: So what about that Detroit situation<br />
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Me: You mean that they're winning (which is obviously the reply of any true Tiger's fan)</div>
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Mom: (after an awkward pause) No, I mean the bankruptcy</div>
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Me: Do you mean the steroid use?</div>
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Sidenote...we were totally on two different pages...</div>
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Mom: (exasperatedly) No, I mean that Detroit declared bankruptcy</div>
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Me: What does that mean?</div>
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Mom: Never mind.</div>
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Apparently it was a big deal on Dominican news last week, but the only thing I was aware of was that Jhonny (yes, I spelled it correctly...I'm an English teacher, remember??) was about to be suspended for PEDs...probably why the city's going bankrupt. </div>
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Here's the deal, it's not that I specifically have anything <i>against</i> the news, I just don't feel any specific need to sit down and watch it. I have a very full summer schedule of Pinterest and blogging to keep up with, and if I'm going to sit down and watch T.V, it's either going to be a show about someone getting brutally murdered (Castle), a show with real people whose life choices I can judge (T&T, HBB), or a baseball game whose announcers provide light background noise as I scroll through Pinterest. </div>
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There <i>are</i> benefits to watching the news however...for example, it makes you smarter than your 9 year-old-son, like when your mom asks, "So who is the governor of Michigan now?" and you say "Jennifer Granholm," and your son says, "Rick Snyder." If you're not from Michigan, I'm not going to tell you which one of us was right...but it was probably the one who just finished a 3rd grade social studies unit on Michigan, and not the one who eligible to vote...but maybe not, you decide. </div>
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And it also makes you sound really smart when you watch Jeopardy. See, here's what happened, I took my mom to my grandparents' house yesterday, and my grandpa began to discuss the "issue in Yemen." Hmmm...obviously you already know that I had no idea what he was talking about. So he told me all about the unrest, the threats from Al-Quaeda, the travel warnings, and the ambassador who was assassinated in Libya...and herein lies the exciting part...as we were watching Jeopardy last night (which was before <i>The Bachelorette</i>...another show in which I frequently judge the poor choices of real-life people) Alec Trebec asked which Middle Eastern country's ambassador had been assassinated during the summer of 2012...to which I yelled loudly "LIBYA!!" and to which my son responded, "Wow mom, you are so smart!" And I was like, "Yeah, I know. I watch the news."</div>
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And that's the thing, maybe I don't watch the news, and maybe I don't always know what is going on in the world, but as long as Carson thinks I'm the smartest person he knows, that's all that matters to me...oh, and I'm a lot less stressed out too...I turned on the news to watch it with my mom this morning, and the first report I saw was about the risk of Alzheimer's Disease in women who didn't breast feed...which of course...is ME. Seriously, between the "issue in Yemen," and my apparent risk of Alzheimer's Disease, I'll take reality T.V. anyday!</div>
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Well, that's all for today, lots of Small Town Love,</div>
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Jenn</div>
Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-61776064387183391942013-08-04T18:35:00.001-04:002013-08-04T18:35:41.838-04:00Lessons learned at the CarnivalThe thing about a carnival is that really, it's just a small town version of a county fair...minus the pie-eating contest and heifer competition (which my kids would totally win now that they know what a heifer is!). For those of you who make your home in South Florida and are completely confused by both the term "carnival" and "county fair," that's ok, just think Hollywood Beach. On a Holiday. In February. After 2am...yes, that is the general atmosphere of one of our little carnivalitas up here in the north. Today, in fact, for most Grand Haven-ers (yes, that is an official term. I'm an English teacher. I would know) today is simultaneously sad (why can't the elephant ear vendor just keep his little trailer here all summer?!) and completely and thoroughly exciting (no more out of town drivers. Or bikini-wearing street-revelers. Seriously...modest is hottest people!) It was a great week however, with carnival games, carnival rides, cookouts, and fireworks...and I'm excited to share with you the top three things that I've learned this week...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirl2chnnjSMfZR4JcGhj85akUVfgsAREQ-p8wwYONUORrTlhvRM1pcIVFuJZ2cZu0l-IxLGWEC1gguEzKzQ11OX8myQEAmtvNY6v5SLwbj7qA1G-7R-VEn2feA1i1Z2A5jUktVJVcWZsQO/s1600/IMG_2527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirl2chnnjSMfZR4JcGhj85akUVfgsAREQ-p8wwYONUORrTlhvRM1pcIVFuJZ2cZu0l-IxLGWEC1gguEzKzQ11OX8myQEAmtvNY6v5SLwbj7qA1G-7R-VEn2feA1i1Z2A5jUktVJVcWZsQO/s320/IMG_2527.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know these people...I just wanted you to see the Carnival lights </td></tr>
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1. <i>When going to a carnival (or county fair, or Hollywood Beach) dress your children in bright colors</i>. I learned this accidentally, and even though my kids are old enough to kind of run around on their own...I mean, it's not like I wasn't "<i>around</i>" just maybe not "<i>around</i>" you know? Anyway, it made it easy to look up on the crazy-spinny Remix and think..."Oh, there's my kid in the bright orange shirt, is he crying or laughing? Laugh...oh, nope...not laughing." It's also beneficial to make sure that said shirts have a "Jesus" slogan or logo on them. It's a good reminder that should a ride become too intense, it's still important to watch your language (Darn, this is scary = good. Oh sh$% = bad). Not that my children would ever use that language...no seriously...they wouldn't...however, it's also a good reminder for the mother who is wandering around with those children-in-Jesus-shirts to also watch her language when her children go on rides which twirl them around like ragdolls (Lord, please protect them = good. Oh sh$% = bad.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwL3ZVRPCj8gcxFKCK4cnmREkRUxcOUC2Op75nKEkQrbhpRIXHgRijcm7lWKzVCRxMAZSKQU3GwKchjjVgu8O1pc0T-lr-cUoIwXqjXH6f_Z7s5hFtjtBC2sXdGw8zt86m_H2Y5Y27v-f6/s1600/IMG_2589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwL3ZVRPCj8gcxFKCK4cnmREkRUxcOUC2Op75nKEkQrbhpRIXHgRijcm7lWKzVCRxMAZSKQU3GwKchjjVgu8O1pc0T-lr-cUoIwXqjXH6f_Z7s5hFtjtBC2sXdGw8zt86m_H2Y5Y27v-f6/s320/IMG_2589.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson on the "ReMix" in his bright orange "SonShine VBS" t-shirt</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SZzx3WGh0T2N4rNOfjxJzMVYgDX_BB3RFoQPrhea5fQA2jFjQBI7IHKnePecGZptRqfisvDAELUJjgHEZ-QBWlrq6wKkB_cJlMC-3R5XEvZb-p73ZGqcyweLKBtJYuufirhtti7YnrdU/s1600/IMG_2605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SZzx3WGh0T2N4rNOfjxJzMVYgDX_BB3RFoQPrhea5fQA2jFjQBI7IHKnePecGZptRqfisvDAELUJjgHEZ-QBWlrq6wKkB_cJlMC-3R5XEvZb-p73ZGqcyweLKBtJYuufirhtti7YnrdU/s320/IMG_2605.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kaitlyn in her neon yellow "Jesus Rocks!" t-shirt</td></tr>
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2. Speaking of...the next thing that I learned is to <i>fully immerse your children in prayer before heading to the carnival (or county fair, or Hollywood Beach)</i>. Because those rides are SKETCH. Seriously, they are put together in 12 hours by a crew of traveling carnies (their word, not mine...I think. I'm not sure if that's derogatory...is it?) Who are quite possibly gypsies (again, is this derogatory? I don't think so...right?) and I've seen gypsies on My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding (same channel as <i>Toddlers in Tiaras</i> and <i>Honey Boo Boo</i>) and they are crazy. Not to mention that these rides are SET UP ON PALLETS. Like, the same pallets that are used in many Pinterest DIY projects. So, if you're a good mom like me, you just buy the wristband and pray that the screws don't come flying loose while your child is hanging upside down.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkGi2hkc5o-AM4xYwPaa0gRNmldGhzPn8S1X2y6GjA-OxllsGGrVUdWi4mXk0npQFX9bKBHA6DqRxtIH85H8rWu9MqL3LPKOavvHfKA-xnhZROfK7N_NmAJIIfdhaJT3VloN_qeKPAMhq4/s1600/IMG_2604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkGi2hkc5o-AM4xYwPaa0gRNmldGhzPn8S1X2y6GjA-OxllsGGrVUdWi4mXk0npQFX9bKBHA6DqRxtIH85H8rWu9MqL3LPKOavvHfKA-xnhZROfK7N_NmAJIIfdhaJT3VloN_qeKPAMhq4/s320/IMG_2604.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the ride Freak-Out...on a pallet. </td></tr>
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3. And finally, <i>I learned not to leave your undergarments lying around at the carnival (or county fair, or Hollywood Beach)</i> because someone will undoubtably find it and turn it into a piece of sculptural artwork. Now, I'm not quite sure how this bra ended up on Washington Street in the first place, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the Beer Tent might have had something to do with it...just sayin'<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Fpal6j60bC4fR4cIckOVdm1sID8VlpGEvnQHa7zGK-SFbsMVSpZSOFSGbJ06HGu64K1Z68VebAWdG4-LumxaG00M5stpadLvv6Vdx16IBZePU52GMAcdp5ao2UDOgsGyllRG5984vkyR/s1600/IMG_2581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Fpal6j60bC4fR4cIckOVdm1sID8VlpGEvnQHa7zGK-SFbsMVSpZSOFSGbJ06HGu64K1Z68VebAWdG4-LumxaG00M5stpadLvv6Vdx16IBZePU52GMAcdp5ao2UDOgsGyllRG5984vkyR/s320/IMG_2581.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone's left-behind bra wrapped artfully around a broomstick</td></tr>
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Anyway, it's been a whirlwind of a week. I caught up with many long-lost friends, we played water squirting games, we walked...and walked...and walked...which is good because I also shared a basket of fries with Carson, and the walking made me feel less guilty about it. So now that the tourists are gone and the streets are empty, the fam and I are going to head back down to the waterfront tonight for a little Small Town Worship on the Waterfront...and thank God for an awesome place to live...even if people leave their bras around on the sidewalks.<br />
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Hope your weekend was great...I'd love to hear about your Carnival adventures as well!<br />
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Lots of Small Town Love,<br />
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JennSmall Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-39765400871869980182013-08-02T13:22:00.003-04:002013-08-02T13:22:56.423-04:00Down on the FarmSo today we shed our "Big City" ways and headed up north for a day at the farm...and by "Big City" I actually mean "Small Town"...and by "Farm" I mean the air-conditioned ice cream shop at Country Dairy...just kidding, we didn't actually stop for ice cream until <i>after</i> we toured the down-home workings of the farm. Lucky for me, I just happen to have an "in" with the owners (who says teaching doesn't have it's perks...I mean, except for the summers off...and Spring Break...but that's besides the point). <i> </i><br />
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<i>Anyway</i>, Riley (or "my favorite student ever" as he so kindly labeled himself in my phone when I had my back turned) was generous enough to take me and the kiddos on a private farm tour...which included coversations about cow insemination (did you know cow semen is worth thousands of dollars??), the difference between heifers and bulls (because similar to the "you can <i>make</i> pickles converstion...click here if you need a refresher on that...my kids had no idea that cows and bulls had *ahem* differences), and finally the fact that why yes, you can actually grow hay...in the ground. It was quite a learning moment for my children and I to learn that no, it doesn't actually just "come in bundles." Good to know.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riley showing Carson one of the tractors</td></tr>
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<i>Anyway</i>, we finished our time at the Dairy with what were without a doubt the best ice cream cones ever (Mom's Cookie Dough for Kaitlyn and Blue Moo for Carson) and a visit the Country Dairy store for the most amazing chocolate milk in the world, and a package of blue cheese brats (sausages, not kids with bad attitudes) which Chris officially declared "the best brats I've ever eaten in my life." Animal husbandry conversations aside, the Dairy tour and treats were great!<br />
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We said goodbye to Riley and continued our Down Home afternoon by heading over to Lewis's petting zoo (Kaitlyn was quite possibly the oldest kid there...and probably had the most fun.) The highlight of the day had to be the moment when Carson said, "Look mom, that animal has a Joey!" ...and Kaitlyn and I proceeded to inspect a wallaby as he licked and nurtured what seemed to quite possibly to be a baby? In it's front pouch? We seriously stared at this for about 5 minutes before Mr. Wallaby decided to make things clear by letting go of said "baby" which ended up being not a baby at all, but his GIANT TESTICLES. I kid you not. Giant. Coming in at a close second for "moment of the day" was when Carson said, "Look, they have bouncing pillows...just like on Honey Boo Boo!" Which of course, comes on right after Toddler's and Tiaras...we city folks obviously have high standards when it comes to what we watch on T.V.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Honey Boo Boo" style bouncing pillow</td></tr>
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<i>Anyway</i>, it was a lovely day away from the bright lights, big city (which are more accurately streetlights that flicker on at dusk), and it was nice to come home to our small-town house cats and enjoy our chocolate milk and ice cream...straight from the containers of course...because that's how we do it in the city.<br />
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Lots of farm-girl love,<br />
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Jenn<br />
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For more info on <a href="http://www.countrydairy.com/">Country Dairy</a>, here's a link to their website.<br />
And here's one for <a href="http://lewisfarmmarket.com/">Lewis Farms.</a>Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1347129004510531754.post-53363114414342354162013-07-31T19:33:00.000-04:002013-07-31T19:33:06.553-04:00Midweek Confessions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well friends,<br />
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It's that time again. The middle of the week when I hook up with <a href="http://emyselfandi.com/">e, myself and I</a> to let you know everything that is REALLY going on in my life so that you can feel just a little bit better about yours.<br />
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Here we go:<br />
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1. Currently I have a blister on my lip. I burned it. While trying to sneak a bite of too-hot, full-gluten cinnamon roll. I think that God was like, "Girl, I love you but you know you can't eat that!" BAM. Blister. <br />
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2. The blister is only slightly less humiliating than the fact that yesterday I spent about 1/2 an hour digging through the trash can...not the one under the sink (all you Dutch folks know what I'm talking about), the one on the curb. The big blue one. With all of our trash from the past two weeks (because remember, Chris was out of town last week and I wasn't about to move the trash to the curb - that's a boy's job!) Anyway, I accidentally threw away a $100 Visa gift card, and as I looked at that big blue can on the curb, I just couldn't bear to think that the card might be in there...sure enough, a few layers past the wads of used paper towel, bags from the bathroom garbage (no way I was opening those), one decayed chicken carcass, and 15 gaggy dry-heaves later, there it was...$100 Visa card! Hallelujah! And then I spent it. On Kaitlyn. Seriously, that girl should have been out there digging through the trash with me. Here's her new comforter that we ordered from IKEA with the Visa card:<br />
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3. Finally, I have spent two hours today watching Toddlers in Tiaras...and by watching I mean emotionally investing myself in the lives of spray-tanned and hair-teased 7 year olds. I caught myself saying, "Doesn't that mom know this is full-glitz? That second-hand dress is not going to cut it!" and "What exactly is going on with her hair, it looks like a rat's nest!" before catching myself and deciding to be polite and judge these women inside my head rather than out. And this then leads me to my <i>true </i>midweek confession.<br />
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4. It's not just that I like Toddlers and Tiaras because of the drama and the sass and the moms who are trying to relive their glory days...but because...wait for it...I WAS ONE OF THEM. Okay, not a glitzy seven year old beauty queen, but I <i>was</i> the second runner up in Miss Teen Grand Rapids my junior year of high school. That's right. 2nd runner up. Just 2 spots behind 1st place (and in all honesty that 1st place girl was 6 feet tall and looked like a man). Just to prove how awesome it was, here's a little photo gem for you...<br />
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Seriously, didn't I know about tanning in the 90s?? Geesh!<br />
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Anyway, that's my week so far. As you can see, it's been painful (the blister), stressful (the garbage incident) and emotional (reliving my glory days). But that's the real deal...and hopefully it's made you a feel a little bit better about your day/week/life (choose only one, please). Hopefully you've had a great week with no need for confession...but if not, you know where I am...I'd love to hear about it!<br />
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Cheers from a second-runner-up <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Small Town Girl</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">P.S. For those of you who have asked how you can follow my blog more easily...check out the "follow by email" spot on the right hand side of my blog and leave your email. You'll get an update each time there's a new post. Just a thought :)</span><i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></i></span></span>Small Town Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10737818088611994434noreply@blogger.com0