www.quietsoldseparately.blogspot.com

A dear, sweet friend recently started a new blog. A blog for moms, by moms. A place for moms to come for a simple answer to the every day questions we encounter. Like the little ones we raise, this blog is beginning in infancy. It needs readers. It needs comments. It needs questions. Swing on over. I promise laughs. I promise good ideas. I promise a plethora of ah-ha's. I had a few just today. One of the first questions she chose to tackle was about pacifiers, to use or not to use. The following is a sneak peak of one of the comments posted by yours truly...

Once we were home (from the hospital), she cried 21 hours each day, hours calculated on a non-magical, no-extra-hours-added-to-a-day, non wish-granting clock. Life could not continue like this. I made it, she made it, my beloved husband who had no idea what the heck to do made it to Day 5. On this day, while unpacking from the hospital, a tiny rubber and plastic composition of pink, blue, and yellow fell to the bed. It was a God send, an answered prayer, a shining mirror ball hanging from my ceiling sparking rays of light as a chorus sang. I can still remember the secluded discussion my husband and I had behind the closed doors of our bedroom during the few moments that followed. "Should we let her have it?"..."we said we never would."..."Jenn, something's got to give." More like someone or, more accurately, two someones because this was a decision I refused to make on my own. So with heavy hearts and an increasing amount of self doubt (it was that big of a deal) we decided to give a child, one of OUR children, a pacifier. Honestly, at that point, the binkie was the alternative to a small room with padded walls and a nurse named Barb that dispensed medication according to her own clock. It was what came next that was harder than the decision itself. We had to announce the decision to the crowded rooms of family on the other side of our door. After all, no matter how much I love and adore my husband, I couldn't (he probably could...well, maybe he couldn't) stay in our bedroom forever. Mark's solution to my dreaded judgment was very matter of fact. "Jenn, just give her the thing and walk out. If anyone says anything, simply offer them to live in our shoes for the next 24 hours and see how long they last. We lasted 5 days and it was far from how I imagined Heaven." So in a nutshell, he was saying the last 3 days at home with a screaming, crying newborn have mirrored his assumption of Hell juxtaposed with 7 weary days and an equal amount of sleepless nights (remember my labor was long) if confronted, my often quiet and well-mannered husband would have told the offenders where they could have stuck a binkie of their own. We walked out of our room, Jillian held in our arms, the binkie displayed between her lips...

What happened on the either side of the door? Check out Quiet Sold Separately to find out the answer to this and how to get a picky eater to expand his pallet and is it okay to lie to your husband by omission and many more topics as they arise.

Hello, this is Jenn. Is anyone out there?

So. I am back. Yes it has been over a year...(sighs)...And boy, have I missed you! Wait. I guess first I should see if anyone is there. Hello, this is Jenn. Is anyone out there? I know it has been a while. At this point you may not even remember me. I would love to tell you that I have been unpacking and decorating and all the good (ha) stuff that comes with moving, but seriously, all of us know that would be a lie. It has been a year. Holy wow, it has been OVER a year. And yes, I do still have boxes, but the truth is that I have been so, so, so, SO distracted with life that I allowed myself to forget that other people care about what happens in our little lives to our little selves in this far-far-away spot on Earth we now call ours, home. I have been smelling the roses and forgetting to share the bouquet. So here is to a new beginning, a fresh start at the good ole blog. Goodness knows our entire life this last year has been about new beginnings. And really. Truly. I can't wait to catch you up.

HOWEVER...I am going private.

I will give you a week or two before the big change. In the meantime, I need email addresses to send you an official invitation to the blog. Please, please, oh please do not take for granted that I have your email address already. Your contact info may have been lost during the brutal toilet drowning of my iPhone, aka The Original. Or it may have been lost when the replacement of previously mentioned phone developed multiple personalities and had to be committed, I shudder to think her name, let alone say it out loud. FYI: iPhone 3 has yet to earn a name.

And back to the point. I assume most, if not all, of my readers know me or my family somehow. I love you, all of you. As you read this blog, I want you to feel our love. I want to feel your love in return. I want to keep in touch. I want you to know who we are. I want to share our lives with you. I want to hear what you have to say. Most importantly, I want you to send me your email address to jwaishnora@gmail.com so all of this can be possible. You will receive an invitation with instructions on how to view the blog once it does go private.

Still Here!!!

I know, I know the blog is falling way behind. I feel guilty, negligent, and overwhelmed. Guilty because lately any computer time I have has been devoted to establishing a facebook account (careful, it is addictive. Thanks Megan!) Negligent because the blog has suffered. And overwhelmed because we are moving 1900 miles, I am home alone with 3 children for 3 weeks, and someone has to do all the packing. Yes, that is a mild exaggeration, I have help packing. Anyway, I am sure you get the point. Check back in about a month and maybe, just maybe, the blog will be as it was during pre-move times.

We Are Off!!!

Embarking on a great adventure...Arizona is the place to be, Hot weather is the life for me, Land spreadin' out so far and wide...Mark and I are off to Arizona and we are super excited for the journey before us. We do not have very many details just yet, but we will share once they become available. Wish us luck, say a pray or two (maybe three), and check back later this week for, perhaps our most astonishing post to date!!!!

Photo is of the Arizona Railway Museum in Chandler

New Posts, Finally!

I have been able to complete a few posts and have published them according to their original dates. So, some are before the Strawberry picking post and some are after. Anyway, enjoy! And I am trying to bribe Mark for a little time to finish the rest. Think it will work?

Click, Clack, Ahh!

Sometime in the wee hours of the night, I drifted out of a dream in which I was grocery shopping while being followed by my parents and a small chorus of other people performing Handel’s Messiah. They were really doing a fantastic job and I appreciated that they understood how much it meant to me being able to attend their performance and shop for my cow for the week aka milk at the same time. But then I was called out the performance, and out of sleep entirely, because I could hear someone tapping the computer keys outside our bedroom door. I listened for several minutes until I was quite sure that my ears were not deceiving me and I was not dreaming. Yep, there it was……someone slowly typing away. A clicking, a clacking of the keys being pecked in no particular spellings inched into our room. Kind of sinister, don’t you think? An axe murderer who wakes his unsuspecting victims by striking eerie and ominous letters on the keyboard. {{Shudder}} Finally, I called for backup. I nudged Mark and said, “Is someone on the computer?” He paused for a listen. “No,” he said confidently. I think he was happy to hear something insane come out of my mouth in the middle of the night, instead of his (he has been known to fight dinosaurs in his sleep.) “I’m not dreaming,” I said. “Oh, okay,” he said and rolled back over. He learned that trick from me. “Can’t you hear it? It’s like someone’s hunting and pecking.” “Nobody is in the house,” he said, “typing on the computer.” “Well is it Brendan or Jillian? Or maybe a mouse is on the desk? That's it, it is a mouse!” We sat in the quiet dark and listened. No typing. After a few more seconds, I rested my head back on my pillow and tried to go back to sleep. Mark readjusted his pillow and refolded the covers (he is very particular about this, even in his sleep.) Several minutes later, as I was trying to get back to my grocery shopping and personal mobile performance of Handel’s Messiah, I heard Mark muttering. “It does sound like the keyboard,” he said. “You hear it?” I paused. I couldn’t hear it. “I don’t hear it anymore,” I said. “I can hear it,” he said. “Do you think it’s a mouse?” I asked. “Or a murderer?” “Neither.” “OK. What is it?”

"I don't know. I am sure it is nothing. Maybe something outside." he said, not quite convinced. But much to my extreme pleasure, we woke up this morning un-murdered. The kids still in bed and there are no mouse droppings anywhere in the house. I guess it was outside —Mr. Windy in the office with the candlestick. Whew! That was a close one.

I Resolve to Be...

Brave! This year is going to be like no other in my life, and in order to keep myself out of the mental hospital or in an endless bag of Doritos, I am going to have to be brave. I’m going to resist freaking out, no matter what happens with Mark's job. I am not so much afraid of this new place in our life as I am of all of the stuff that has to take place as a result of what may happen. I am going to remember that people have gone through what we are about to go through a million, trillion different times throughout history. I will be calm, cool, and collected. I will exude strength and level-headedness. People will start calling my hairdo “The Brave.” There will be a petition to change the last line of the national anthem to the “land of the free and the home of the Jennifer.” (Of course, I will graciously plead with the persisters to fight global warming instead.) The point is that I’m going to be brave.

The Reason

Something that struck my mind & heart at some point in our Church Christmas program today was that all of this...the miraculous conception, the birth in a barn, the manger for a bed, the new star in the sky, the perfect life, the atonement for the sins of all mankind, the death and resurrection...really happened. It's not just a great story (although it is a great story!) It really and truly happened, to real people. Yes, a long time ago. But it really happened. A poor, pregnant woman really did have to give birth in a barn. Jesus Christ really did live a perfect life, never committing sin. And he really did give up his life for us. And then the best part - he really was resurrected and lives again. Really. It really happened. Wow. And because of that, all things are possible. I love this scripture in 2 Peter 1:16:

"For we have not followed cunningly devised fables, when we made known unto you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eyewitnesses of his majesty." In other words, these are not just neat stories that we're telling you. They're real. And although I'm not a eyewitness, like Peter was, I am a witness - because I do have faith that it's real - and it really happened. And with that, I wish you a Merry Christmas!

The photo is of my very dear friend Martha and her baby boy Dallin taken at the Nativity production in 2007.

Busy Picking Strawberries in December

I have received a few comments, either in person or by email regarding the absence of new posts. I have started many, many posts about birthdays, Thanksgiving, my parents' visit, holiday parties and performances, inspiring talks at church, etc. but have not completed a ONE!!! Casting frustration aside, I offer some insight and then I am penciling some time into my schedule - probably New Year's Eve - to play catch up. Each post will be posted with its original date, so you may have to do some scrolling. Enjoy, and then check back later to learn why so few posts, who am I kidding, NO posts have been completed and shared in the last 5! weeks.

The other day I was watching a devotional talk on BYU TV as I did the usual...simultaneously clean house, do laundry, play with the little ones, clean food off the floor, kiss a booboo or two, pay the bills, make the beds. Okay, so maybe I wasn't watching, I was listening and rewinding repeatedly...Anyway, the speaker talked about last winter and how her grandchildren came over on a snowy day and built the biggest snowman she'd ever seen - absolutely HUGE! And in the coming days and weeks it continued to snow, and snow, and snow some more...so that eventually, the drifts covered the snowman and he disappeared entirely. But. A few months later she was picking strawberries in her yard, right there where those massive snowdrifts had been months before. Her point? Seasons change. Our lives change. Whether we want them to or not, they are going to change. My season right now seems to consist mostly of running. Not the mind-cleansing, jogging kind, but running to catch up, only to fall behind all over again. Don't get me wrong I love, love, love being busy and running and doing. And everyone knows that shirking housework and avoiding laundry and finding reasons not to cook are practically artforms for me, but eventually, the dishes have to be put away, the laundry has to be folded, and it would be great to feed my family a meal thoughtfully prepared by me with love, not angst to move on to the next task. So I'm reminding myself. These moments are wonderful. Most of the time, my daily duties and seeing the world through my children's eyes are like picking strawberries, but sometimes it can feel like standing in a snowdrift. So, I am trying to appreciate it and enjoy it. I am getting good at cleaning entire rooms by picking things up with my toes as I fold laundry or dust. I'm figuring out how to pay attention to the moments that count while dismissing the list of would've, should've, could'ves that often plays in my head. Like usual. And for the first time in my life I feel the need to remind myself that this is a good season. A really good season. And right around the corner? Another season. A different season. Hopefully another good season. But if not...another season will be coming along right after it. And eventually, I'll be picking strawberries...

Jillian's Christmas Program

Jillian's pre-school Christmas production, and boy was it ever a production. I. Tell. Ya! The teachers worked so feverishly planning and practicing and toiling and practicing some more. Lets just say their efforts paid off BIG time. The night was outstanding! Before you play the videos scroll down to the bottom of your screen and pause the music.

A New Calling

So, I haven't had a calling at church in like ev-uh! And today, Brother Conners approached me after sacrament meeting. A more accurate description might take on the image of a run-down, Ha! And I knew, just as everyone knows. It was my turn. My turn to answer, to plan, to prepare, to serve. So a new calling it is, but I must admit, I feel rather spoiled. This calling definitely allows me the best of both worlds: to interact with the youth of the ward and to regularly attend Gospel Principals AND Relief Society. Any guesses? Send me a comment stating what you think my calling is and the winner gets a prize. Hint: Rachel, your mom was this to me when I was growing up.

Grace in your Face!

Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.

~ Henry Ward Beecher

As Thanksgiving is approaching, I have began to reflect on my own personal graciousness (or lack thereof!) I am married to probably the most gracious person I have ever met in my whole entire life. Like, totally! Seriously! I know I make fun, but it is only to make light of how inept I really feel when compared to this esteeming quality he so easily possesses. I stand in awe of his gentle, sincere gratitude; the sweet graciousness that guides and directs his life, his soul. In my search to become more gracious, Mark and I had the following conversation...

J: I wish I were more gracious, but I always feel on the spot or unprepared. Grace, not the I-can-dance-like-a-ballerina kind but the other kind, just doesn't come naturally for me.

M: I think you are a very gracious person. (He went off on a tangent naming other admirable qualities I possess, but are too embarrassing in a modest sort of way to mention.)

J: But I am not!

M: Yes, you are.

J: No, really I don't think I am.

M: Okay, now is when you say 'Thank you!'"

J: See! Case in point. (did I mention, I often HAVE! to have the last word, too.)

Can I Pull Off "Retro Chic"?

Or will I just look old and/or silly? My swim suit and swim dress came in the mail today. I am reposting the pictures from online instead of modeling them myself (um, ya - no!) SO - I tried them on and now I am wondering will I look "retro-chic" (definitely the look I was going for) or just plain old lady? Will this really work for me?

I Just Gotta Say...

…that I’m very proud to be an American today. I hope you are too, no matter who you voted for yesterday. I woke up with a similar feeling to the one I had in the days following September 11, 2001. I am sobered by the challenges that lie ahead, but filled with an overwhelming sense of hope that we are capable of the task if we all work together on common ground. I truly believe that there is more that unites us in this country than divides us. One more thought. To the credit of both candidates, I don’t believe this election was about race. My skin is white. In the winter, buried under the layers of my warm clothes, it is pasty white. And for that fact alone, my American experience for the last thirty years came with a set of advantages and opportunities that I will never be able to count or comprehend. And I acknowledge that for generations, the American experience for people born without white skin came with a set of disadvantages and limitations that they were forced to comprehend all too well. I believe that yesterday a man was elected president of the United States on the content of his character and not the color of his skin. Whether you voted for him or not, we all deserve congratulations for participating in a historical election that was not about race but by default will impact the previous advantages, disadvantages, opportunities and limitations once defined by race. That alone is cause to celebrate!!! I wanted to say something funny here (as I am holding back the tears for the um-teenth time today), to wrap things up and to remind us all not to take ourselves too seriously, but I’m coming up blank (who knew?). I’m just too busy being proud to be an American today.

Off to the Store...

...to buy cereal

and maybe a few other things.

A Bright Idea

Mark and I have decided to finally, and I do mean finally, finish the basement. A project that we have started too many times than I can count. I am wanting a really fun light fixture for the "kids area" and I think I found it. Cute right? Love the colors, love the concept!

Hating the price. Not sure - okay definitely know, I will not be dropping $300 for this sassy chandelier. Curse you, Pottery Barn! So does anybody know if I could buy the wiring mechanism to whip up something like this? I am pretty crafty and could manage the details; I just don't know where to get the hardware.

Happy Halloween!

Though, it really, truly isn't Halloween (that is tomorrow) Trick-or-Treat in Grandma and Grandpa's village was tonight. So, we joined Josh and Alyssa in some good ole Halloween candy collecting. And, boy oh boy, did we have a blast.Brendan has been planning his costume since November 1, 2007. I was actually surprised at just how many hippies were out in our neighborhood this year. Jillian wanted to be a Star Wars family, but couldn't convince Brendan to give up his year-in-the-making hippie attire, so she settled for Cinderella. Not that Cinderella is that bad of a consolation costume. Karigan fell in love with Daisy. She laughed, she cackled, she loved, and she hugged that costume so we knew that was the one for her. That is, until we discovered the bill actually quacked. That kind of freaked her out. Okay, it really freaked her out. So no quacking! After we collected our loot, we headed back to Grandma and Grandpa's for our Halloween tradition: pizza, subs, and veggies from JR's. yumyumyum!

Gobble Dee Gook

Tonight our pumpkin's fate would be sealed. They would become the most dramatic piece of artwork our hands could muster, our knives could carve. Even Karigan would not suffice with simply being a spectator. Brendan dove in, sleeves up, but did not spare us the comedy of his expressions. Jillian watched and managed and instructed, but refused to do much herself. Goodness knows, pumpkin carving is dirty work.

The finished products.

From left: Karigan, Brendan, Mark, Jillian, and Jennifer

To Swim or Not To Swim?

Okay, so this was no easy task for me because winter is approaching and the selection of swimsuits to purchase locally is null. So, I have no other choice but to buy online - which absolutely terrifies me. Agh! Every girl out there knows that a swimsuit is not an easy purchase, in fact, it borderlines torture. Finding the perfect fit, the right amount of coverage, and the proper support is the triathlon of swimsuit shopping. Once achieved, it is the trifecta! Add the additional battle of need vs. function and finding the suit to compliment both, now that is a real dilemma. I don't really feel all that self conscious in a swim suit. Maybe I should feel more self conscious because this bod ain't what it used to be (not that it was all that to begin with.) But for some reason, the way I look or don't look, for that matter, has never really bothered me all that much. I know I could drop a few (okay maybe more) pounds. I know I could tone up, but I am not going to sit on the ship (or at home during the summer) just because I don't look like a supermodel in my bathing suit. So, these are my choices. We did not actually "swim" on the ship during our first cruise, but we did do a lot of lounging (aka sleeping for Mark) in our suits on the deck. We did go snorkeling in St. Thomas, though I don't think snorkeling will be on the agenda this time around, we do plan to spend a lot of time on the beach when we are at the "private island." I definitely want a suit that I will feel comfortable walking around on the beach, probably more of a swim dress, and another suit for soaking up the rays on ship. Suit 1 and 4 are also available in scarlet red and steel blue. Which ones do you like, what are your picks?

Like Pulling Teeth

The tooth that came out of Jillian's mouth today was "like pulling teeth!" I TELL YA! Literally and figuratively. I now know and truly understand the origin of this cliche because my, oh my...She wouldn't let anyone touch the tooth as it dangled from a single strand of gum. Once, she was convinced to part with her little ivory, I pulled quickly so she couldn't change her mind. Sadly, this one was a bleeder. More blood than I am comfortable seeing come from my own child. Jillian cried - a lot. For some reason this time she felt like she was losing a part of herself that she would never get back. So she mourned and grieved and fell out all over herself about a tooth. She asked if the Tooth Fairy could leave her tooth behind (I guess she thought she was going to construct a shrine for this little ole tooth of hers.) So she and Daddy wrote a note requesting that Jillian's tooth remain with her "for always." Then her tooth and note were placed her little bag. And, just like Jillian, she was fine. She got it all out and was ready for the tooth fairy to come because this time she was convinced that the tooth fairy was going to bring her a new Barbie.

~

"Bye little tooth. I will miss you."

Toothless?

~ Well, I am not sure if one missing tooth qualifies for the description of being toothless, but for all dramatic purposes (we are talking about Jillian, after all) that wiggly tooth of hers finally got the yank. And, better yet, she has declared herself as becoming toothless (the one next to it is loose, too.) A big shout out goes to Poppy. He bought Jillian this Tooth Fairy bag when they were here a few months ago. How did he know, our Tooth Fairy days were coming so soon?

~

"Can I call Poppy?"

To the Nines

So we haven't even decided where exactly we will be cruising, and I am already picking out dresses for our formal dinners. Go figure. I mean really, would you expect anything less from me? All I really need, clothing wise, is a couple of dresses and the inevitable swimsuit (I will post more about that when I get the courage to actually look for one.) So, these are my choices. I really can't decide on the two that I would like. The first one is my absolute favorite. Very classy and elegant! The remaining three are shown in different colors than I would pick, but these were the only photos available. The second dress would be smoke in color; more like a titanium. I like this one because it is cute and sassy. The third dress would be a wine color. It is very plain in the front and detailed with bustling in the back - a perfect bridesmaid dress. The fourth dress Mark chose and the color would be "sterling orchid" which is lavender with a metallic sheen. The criss-cross is joined with a faux crystal broach - very exquisite. Now the tough part...A Decision. SO - let me know which one you like. The best part is...each dress is on sale at David's Bridal for a mere $39. How great is that! A beautiful dress and a bargain. Heck, I might buy all four. Woohoo!

We're Cruisin'

Today was my day to volunteer in Jillian's class. Oh, how I have missed working in the classroom. Mark and Karigan were going to run a few errands, so they dropped us off and then picked us up. As I climbed into the truck, Mark had this sheepish grin on his face and our favorite song just so happened to be playing on the radio. Yet, I suspected nothing, nothing at all. So, about the errands he had to run. "Just what were those errands, Mark?" Well lets just say, they involved planning a cruise and securing childcare during said cruise for our up-and-coming anniversary. And boy, oh boy was I ever so surprised. I love, love, love surprises. Unfortunately, I am not so easy to surprise, but oh my gravy was I ever so super dee duperly surprised. I can't stop saying how surprised I was, still am, and probably will be for a while. This man is the absolute love of my life and the idea of spending five days with him on a beach, on a boat, under the sun, and under the sea is just H-E-A-V-E-N, Heaven. Now, if only I can make it the five days without my other loves, our kaddos.

Conked Out

“Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap." ~ Robert Fulgham

Sunday afternoons couldn't be any better

High-Ho, High-Ho

This week has been all about opposites. Megan and Bailey went home yesterday. So hopefully a little calmness will find its way back into our lives. One day the weather was sunny and gorgeous and warm. The next it was raining and absolutely freezing. FREEZING, I tell ya! Which left Megan in an angst. She wanted more than anything for the weather to be cold and just plain dreary while she was here. For me it just emphasizes that I am not ready for winter, but that's Ohio for you! One week we were all healthy and happy-go-lucky. Fast forward to later in the week and we're all sick and miserable. Mark was gone most of last week. Working craaazzzy hours, and I thought summer, aka golfing weather, was over. But now, (thank goodness!!!) he's back and full of quality family time. And I'm thinking at some point, once upon a time, my house was clean. I may be imagining that. Something about that third child just makes all things only possible for about 5 minutes. And in the back of my head I am remembering how my mom told me having a third child is just another baked potato in the microwave. I would share my potato if only I could have a clean house. However, it's a disaster today. Perhaps I can muster some motivation and scrub a toilet or two. Too bad those scrubbing bubbles really don't do the scrubbing for you. Wish list: a maid. If only 4 times a year. Ya know to get those nooks and crannies I have been neglecting. Oh and to dust, I despise dusting! Something about all those knick knacks my mom had when I was a child. And what was my chore. The dusting. My mom says it was because I did it so well. Well, now - I can't stand it. Anyway, I am wasting precious time I could be cleaning. High-Ho! High-Ho!

Sleepy Heads

Today is Megan and Bailey's last day in Ohio and I couldn't, just couldn't, resist this photo op. Waking up this morning and seeing the boys like this conjured so many, many memories. Meggie and I have several pictures of the boys like this from over the years. Maybe in a few days I will dig some out of my photo boxes and post a few comparisons.

Candied Apples

Buckeye Candies

1 c. (2 sticks) butter

5 1/4 c. confectioners' or powdered sugar

2 c. creamy peanut butter

1 1/2 tbsp. vanilla

12 oz. chocolate bits (or chocolate almond bark)

1/2 bar paraffin

Knead all together and shape into balls the size of walnuts. Melt the chocolate bits with the paraffin in the top of double boiler. Stick toothpicks into the balls and dip into chocolate so all of the ball is covered except top where toothpick is. This is what makes them look like buckeyes. Set on cookie sheet or wax paper in refrigerator until cold. Take off with a knife. Keep cool.

The Pumpkin Patch

Growing up in Oklahoma, I never experienced a true "pick-your-own-pumpkin" pumpkin patch. What I did have as a child was a plethora of church parking lots, enclosed by square hay bails, full o' pumpkins. Little did I know, that authentic pumpkin patches require you picking your pumpkin from the vine in the field the seed was sown, the seed that rain watered and the sunlight nourished. AND, apparently I was not alone.

On our way to dinner the night before we went to "our" pumpkin patch, we drove by another pumpkin patch. Megan says boldly, "oh, look they hid the pumpkins for the kids to find in the field." The entire truck roared with laughter. Then I gently explained to Megan, "No, that is where they grow." Keep in mind, she is an Okie too! But that there little statement is one for the record books, aka one I won't allow her to forget. hehehe!

The quest for the perfect pumpkin. Anyone who knows Karigan knows that she is fas-cin-nated by balls or anything and everything resembling a ball. She kept repeating Bah! Bah! Bah! and pointing everywhere around her. Our L-O-O-T,Loot!

The sign says it all. The trick: the person carrying the pumpkins has to make it from the sign to the crates, about 50 feet, without dropping any of the pumpkins for the carry to count.

Mark carried 8 pumpkins to the finish line last year. His goal this year was 10. Did he make it?

GOAL!

(you can't see the two little ones Karigan is sitting on)

Strappin' em down for the ride home.

Poor, poor pumpkins. If only they knew what was coming.