tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56080232660281370972024-03-05T06:15:38.490-07:00Arizona Mom On the Run"There is no cure for laziness ... but a large family helps." ~ Herbert ProchnovMichele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.comBlogger173125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-91249564491198637862014-02-27T13:10:00.000-07:002014-02-27T13:10:06.071-07:00Be Careful What You Wish For: If You're Worried Because Your Toddler Won't Eat ... Just Wait<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;"><i>Feeding the boy who makes the 800-pound club is no easy feat.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When my 13-year-old was a toddler, I worried non-stop that his refusal to eat anything green and leafy and his reliance on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and macaroni cheese would surely result in malnutrition. His endless buzzing about would result in a lethargic lull of energy. He wouldn't grow. He'd get sick. Those were my fears. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But now, as the pitter-pattering of little feet has transformed into the plodding angst of pubescent-filled, man-sized Nikes, I realize there was no need for all that worry a decade ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My kids are now 17, 13, and the twins are 9. The time I spend keeping these kids nourished is increasing at an alarming rate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ten years ago, I never would have imagined t</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">hat my little star soccer player would switch gears in high school and focus so wholeheartedly on football. His dedication to bulking up and his ravenous appetite have transformed me into the proverbial hamster on the spinning wheel. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When the family sits down to dinner, he'll conclude by saying, "that was a good snack." In the early days, I thought he was just joking, exhibiting some teenaged bravado. It was no joke.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It soon became that leftovers were non-existent. So now I cook more, doubling and tripling recipes, so there are leftovers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If I make a meal early in the day and refrigerate it, I have to make a point of telling him, "Don't eat this. It's dinner."</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Little brother following in the feeding frenzy footsteps.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He asks me to buy the 5-dozen pack of eggs from Costco. I don't have room in the refrigerator, I tell him, settling on two 18-packs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I try to be one of those freezer-friendly, make-ahead meal kingpins, proud of myself for making up and freezing a dozen burritos. Then he eats four or five in a day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I find myself at the grocery store nearly every other day. Trips to Costco that used to come every four or five weeks are now weekly. I scour the Internet, the grocery sale ads, the Pinterest pages for recipes and ideas for filling the freezer. And he still opens the refrigerator and proclaims, "there's nothing to eat." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He has a particular friend whose father is a chef and former football player. My son raves about his cooking (ouch!) and he eats a lot of meals over there. I frequently cringe at the thought of how much my son is putting away at the expense of another family. I'm certain that one day I'll receive an invoice that would surely total in the thousands.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Until then, the moral of the story for parents of picky-eating toddlers: sit back, relax, and start filling your freezer.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>Allie before the Daddy/Daughter dance.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Allie strikes a pose.</span></i></td></tr>
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I<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">t's an evening that precipitates weeks of planning, coordinating, and general giddiness: the school's annual Daddy/Daughter dance. And now that Allie's in second grade, this will be her third go at it. </span></div>
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Unlike years past, Allie spent many days agonizing over her wardrobe choice. When I brought home an adorable frock from Costco, she wrinkled her nose and quickly dismissed it. "I don't think so, Mom ... you should take that one back." Sigh.</div>
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So she carefully inspected her closet and kept coming back to a favorite fuchsia dress. Then she insisted on straight hair with a headband ... oh, and "diamond earrings that dangle."</div>
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Then there's the exchanging trade secrets with BFF Riley -- the shoes, sweater or no sweater, the plan of attack for the refreshments, the rehearsed dance moves. </div>
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And this year Allie even helped Brett pick out his shirt. Actually, she knew before even looking at her choices. "Dad, you should wear that pink shirt you have because I'll be wearing a pink dress," she announced. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Brett and Allie getting ready for the big dance.</i></td></tr>
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Then on the big night it's me taking lots of pictures and Allie getting crazier by the minute and striking all kinds of big-girl poses and flashing her second-grade smile. She rides with her BFF and her dad (who happen to live across the street).</div>
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Much like last year, the dads manage to sneak in a dance or two with the girls, but the bulk of the night for Allie is gathering with a handful of friends, whirling and twirling, giggling and singing ... the stuff memories are made of.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">BFFs Riley and Allie</i></td></tr>
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</div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-44166238960975203292012-03-02T15:25:00.000-07:002012-03-19T14:08:05.680-07:00Blake Turns 15!<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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<tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Blake gets ready to blow out 15 candles on the fabulous Peanut Butter Buckeye Brownie cupcakes I made.</i></td></tr>
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It sounds so cliche, but it's so true. Our kids just grow up so fast. The little newborn who had that Johnson's baby bath smell, made those adorable little smiles in his sleep, and kept vampire hours in his first months, morphs into the chunky-legged infant. Proudly scurrying upright, pulling himself up with the help of the coffee table, curiously tugging at my earrings, my necklace. Fascinated by the car keys. Throwing a ball and eyes lighting up when it's tossed back. Transfixed by the Teletubbies and Barney, giggling uncontrollably when Dad tosses him in the air in the pool. Soon he's in preschool and a new sibling arrives. Adjustment.</div>
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The first day of kindergarten sneaks up on us. I swallow hard as I watch my little boy with his spiked-up bangs and Scooby Doo backpack slowly let go of my hand and quietly enter the world of public education.</div>
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"Give a wave good-bye," the seasoned kindergarten teacher tells her students as they line up before class. But really, she's not talking to the kids, she's talking to us, the parents, as she gives us a confident yet comforting smile as she's done year after year. A smile that assures us that we'll all be ok.</div>
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The grade school years shoot at us like rapid fire. He is a sweet, smart, confident boy -- traits that endure to this day. Soccer enters his young life and a passion is born.</div>
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Two more siblings arrive and his role as big brother is solidified. Basketball, baseball ... but soccer still reigns supreme. A natural student, a sweet and caring brother.</div>
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A severe case of bookworm-itis hits: Harry Potter books are devoured in just a few days. Trips to the library and bookstore brings mega excitement ... until it seems you've read all the fantasy/adventure series in the store.</div>
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He continues to shine as a student and soccer player, making the big step to club soccer. But then at the end of your first year, at the end of fourth grade, the family moves out of state.</div>
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He easily finds his niche in the Valley of the Sun and quickly finds himself at home on the dried, yellowed soccer fields of Arizona.</div>
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Soccer becomes year-round, injuries and burn-out flare up. A short diversion into off-road biking develops. But the passion returns. A trip to Serbia confirms both his love for soccer and for food.</div>
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High school nears. Adjustments on and off the field are made. Injuries and homework become more frequent. A pulled hamstring here, a hurt groin there. The physical therapist's phone number becomes memorized. But his team wins the State Cup and hope feels renewed ... at least from my view on the sidelines. A summer traveling to Boise for regionals. A fun time had by all. And then, a surprise. At least to me and his Dad. He decides to give up soccer and play freshman football. </div>
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He loves football and it loves him. A few months after the season ends, he surprises us again. He wants to return to soccer. And I'm proud that he tried something new in football but equally
impressed that he had the maturity and courage to go back to a sport and
team that was still such an integral part of him.</div>
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His 7-year-old brother idolizes him. He mimics his big brother by busting out pushups, listens to sanitized versions of his favorite songs, and even started eating eggs because his biggest brother does so frequently. </div>
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My teen now spends his free time going to the gym and hanging out with friends ... and eating. He comes home from school and has that six-egg scramble with sausage and spinach as a "snack." My little boy has morphed into a strong, fit (he'd prefer I characterize it as muscular) young man, now taller than me. So many changes in such a brief time. Although I recognize the re-emergence of the fascination with the car keys is gradually returning.</div>
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Happy 15th Birthday, Blake! I love you!</div>
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Mom</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Blake's 1st Birthday.</i></td></tr>
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</div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-4245219342905177102012-02-03T16:35:00.002-07:002012-02-03T16:35:20.230-07:00The Knitting Bug<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;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoO8QoRixdLl81xv8ULF1Sqt_9dD1-bmS7sV5Q__U3-F1HXmHJA3Pxnu3_VW6JUV2roTAs-YXUY7sX9bdze9HJv6CNhe_oBZ30C5_vrT-Q4pjTQF7uDTkaVsTAyq1ebM7zvAT1DnWZWw/s320/Allie+knit+hat.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Allie is all smiles in the knit hat she made.</span></i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoO8QoRixdLl81xv8ULF1Sqt_9dD1-bmS7sV5Q__U3-F1HXmHJA3Pxnu3_VW6JUV2roTAs-YXUY7sX9bdze9HJv6CNhe_oBZ30C5_vrT-Q4pjTQF7uDTkaVsTAyq1ebM7zvAT1DnWZWw/s1600/Allie+knit+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div>
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It happened sometime in November or so. Zach and Allie stumbled upon some yarn and half-finished little "scarves" created by Blake and Nick that had been buried in a drawer or closet ...</div>
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Nick taught Zach and Allie how to finger-knit, so they produced some long, skinny, loose, yarn creations. Instead of playing on his Nintendo DS at bedtime, little Zach would sit up in his high loft bed and knit away until his masterpiece was eight feet tall.</div>
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Over the two-week Christmas break, the kids started to spend a lot of time with some sisters who had just moved in a few houses down a few months prior ... five sisters ranging in age from 4 to 15. And they have a little 2-year-old brother.</div>
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The girls are quite crafty (in the craft sense of the word), so after they got wind of Zach and Allie's little knitting projects, they whipped out the big guns. They showed Zach and Allie their looms and all the adorable hats and scarves they've made. They even have a darling little flower loom. So in the past weeks every trip out has meant a stop at Walmart or Michael's to get a new color yarn. </div>
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I love their enthusiasm and their commitment to finishing a project. And here, Allie is so proud of the hat she made that she wore it to school. Ok, by the time she got home the top part that was sewn together had come undone ... but it wasn't something those talented girls down the street couldn't fix. </div>
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<br />Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-68237176775288005122011-11-07T11:55:00.000-07:002012-03-19T14:08:26.919-07:00This Was Halloween<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halloween night in front of our house.</td></tr>
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It was another fabulous Arizona Halloween season this year. While I do miss a good Northern California fall -- the vibrant leaves, the morning and evening chills that gradually creep in, the rainstorms, and weather to wear jeans and sweatshirts -- October in Phoenix has its own merits.</div>
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Warm days and evenings outside, taking the kids trick-or-treating in flip-flops, and adults sitting out in their driveways to pass out candy -- you can't beat that.</div>
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The Halloween season typically begins around the beginning of October, but somehow the 7-year-olds convinced Brett to put out the decorations about a week early this year. Many of the houses on our street have fun blow-ups, orange lights, ghosts and other scary creatures swirling about. This was our fifth Halloween in Arizona and somehow each year we end up with more outdoor <strike>crap</strike> decorations. But it's always so fun watching Zach and Allie get so excited for the Halloween season.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach Sparrow trick-or-treating.</td></tr>
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And in early October, the mailbox swells with catalogs from party and costume warehouses, competing for the attention of my two youngest. Pages get tattered and dog-eared, reviewed, marked up, and studied intently until the final decision is made.</div>
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This year, drumroll, please ... Allie chose a cute little leopard/cat costume. And my own personal victory was with Zach, who initially wanted one of the gruesome, bloody costumes. Instead he happily chose Jack Sparrow. And it doesn't matter that this was his third time being a pirate (second as Jack Sparrow). He just looks so cute. </div>
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Nick found a mask of some kind, threw it on, grabbed his friend and was out the door before I could even get a picture.</div>
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And Blake ordered a gorilla costume which he plans on extending after Halloween: snowboarding, cheering on friends at sporting events, hanging out at Wendy's. Ahh, to be 14 again.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brett, Allie and Blake in his gorilla costume,</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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A couple days before Halloween, we spread out some plastic on the driveway, invited our neighbors over and had a big carving party. Nicky attempted an intricate werewolf, but it didn't quite turn out so he ended up carving a full moon.</div>
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Allie carved a cute cat, Zach a more old-school face, and Brett, as usual, went for the elaborate with a pirate ship.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick at work on a pumpkin.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allie works on her cat jack-o-lantern.</td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Backward, turn backward,</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
O Time, in your flight</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
make me a child again</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
just for to-night!"</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">
<i>~Elizabeth Akers Allen</i></span></blockquote>
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</div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-54403530711544352612011-10-24T14:30:00.001-07:002011-10-24T14:30:19.834-07:00Weird Science<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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A couple weeks ago while Brett and Blake were at an Arizona Cardinals game, Nick, Zach, Allie, and I headed to the Arizona Science Center. We had never been there before and Zach was excited because a new Pirates exhibit had just opened (but no cameras allowed in the exhibit).</div>
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Zach LOVED the pirate exhibit, marveling over the swords, coins, artifacts, and the cool pirate ship and quarters that made a pirate's life within firm grasp. </div>
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The kids all loved the rest of the museum. Favorites included an interactive display of the digestive system which included a slide. As you slid down the slide (through the intestines), a lovely fart noise sounded, sending the kids into hysterics. Every. Single. Time.</div>
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They also liked this cool telescope, which shot a picture of their giant eye on a screen up above. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach looks through the telescope.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zach's huge eye.</td></tr>
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They also loved the image distorting machine, always good for a few laughs.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alien Nick</td></tr>
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And afterward on the walk back to the car, Zach is unable to muster up a cute smile for the camera.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_th3IW6yNQGaT9QOW4Qy9M4XfGLDvJEBoUX7VLB8HX5KLK2Qs1KhfOg_b24erdVDIA4Yn0wsb9117ttunSJptmAd4sjpEhWgWvTZbhb4dWgM46F1Cq51Ko6qKmcgFK0Mof7il0xPwA8/s1600/IMG_6714.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_th3IW6yNQGaT9QOW4Qy9M4XfGLDvJEBoUX7VLB8HX5KLK2Qs1KhfOg_b24erdVDIA4Yn0wsb9117ttunSJptmAd4sjpEhWgWvTZbhb4dWgM46F1Cq51Ko6qKmcgFK0Mof7il0xPwA8/s400/IMG_6714.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little cheese with that?</td></tr>
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But Allie does.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegAdWtzqf4LWD06IthPAb-bKss3-WzNFD-SRZfSgiJ2ORbFWvNV5FUpSb8Zc45se8H9HfPjc1ypC7TmIgfSrrRF9uMTl-SQ6l_esgyWNC1-N81q89L6zksmmPfa4IRVrVgvv6KIuVckE/s1600/IMG_6716.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegAdWtzqf4LWD06IthPAb-bKss3-WzNFD-SRZfSgiJ2ORbFWvNV5FUpSb8Zc45se8H9HfPjc1ypC7TmIgfSrrRF9uMTl-SQ6l_esgyWNC1-N81q89L6zksmmPfa4IRVrVgvv6KIuVckE/s400/IMG_6716.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet Allie</td></tr>
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<a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent; border: 0px none; padding: 0px;" /></a></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-62529931605940507002011-10-06T11:53:00.000-07:002011-10-06T11:53:58.564-07:00Nick Turns 11<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><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/AVvXsEhTIii-01qyXCdGJZvMUC2eaL02WUTEKG9m029OiABhZT6mNkUQfSoWAm94oVM61l5A4zxW6t_917cN-Og5kdcX5Iy5EWBsbPn5W4hO73KWvpc_MDIqtFplw6p34YR0VDFSbylPe31Df4M/s1600/IMG_6451.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTIii-01qyXCdGJZvMUC2eaL02WUTEKG9m029OiABhZT6mNkUQfSoWAm94oVM61l5A4zxW6t_917cN-Og5kdcX5Iy5EWBsbPn5W4hO73KWvpc_MDIqtFplw6p34YR0VDFSbylPe31Df4M/s400/IMG_6451.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick gives his cake the once-over.</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">September has come and gone, but I couldn't write another blog post until I put up a few pictures of Nick's birthday. Hard to believe our little Nicky is 11 already.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">On the big day Nick invited three friends to go paintballing. A couple were a little on the hesitant side, but Brett, Nick and one friend engaged in all-out paint warfare, coming home with their battle wounds of red marks on their legs and bellies and jeans and shoes obliterated by pale green paint.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Nick picked out his own cake: a round, yellow number with a smiley face and its tongue sticking out. That's Nick.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9rFcGJ8TVzS5lbRLXvlk4S2K8eH9XdyT7D3-bIexM_IFvAOhZBusWU1puveJyNkzIRg6fDCZG2ghiVFoNr_XKBbg42s8ZSNPhql88-4eF2m7TVEm1tond1wipWGEztS9AJE3tT1EWPo/s1600/IMG_6452.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9rFcGJ8TVzS5lbRLXvlk4S2K8eH9XdyT7D3-bIexM_IFvAOhZBusWU1puveJyNkzIRg6fDCZG2ghiVFoNr_XKBbg42s8ZSNPhql88-4eF2m7TVEm1tond1wipWGEztS9AJE3tT1EWPo/s400/IMG_6452.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allie gets into it as she sings Happy Birthday as Nick's friend looks on.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0twhiuNXdn4L2W82WbM3th-U_-Tt5ECP7s_sCoQThgRko7pmWYplbIMRKoLWWXpyDiG0mvxV0A5_3vdibarHwDYWzT8MYg7aXctaYoOOCBp-k5eVLv0Guf0e1sbuaCHO9OzQtDV-Npw/s1600/IMG_6453.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0twhiuNXdn4L2W82WbM3th-U_-Tt5ECP7s_sCoQThgRko7pmWYplbIMRKoLWWXpyDiG0mvxV0A5_3vdibarHwDYWzT8MYg7aXctaYoOOCBp-k5eVLv0Guf0e1sbuaCHO9OzQtDV-Npw/s400/IMG_6453.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brett lights the candles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7N1yxcclFjXTVhOmo_31rsHPQ7HKKuZWoo5VDifheZk6bxh4y_6kMOttjBlt4vxRjtRea7QJdB98MdMm6TGQrmMuk4R1Hs_lrLDX24KEVJYeJpKtHkPQSweye_IYW23iFkqmHTqW11Kg/s1600/IMG_6454.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7N1yxcclFjXTVhOmo_31rsHPQ7HKKuZWoo5VDifheZk6bxh4y_6kMOttjBlt4vxRjtRea7QJdB98MdMm6TGQrmMuk4R1Hs_lrLDX24KEVJYeJpKtHkPQSweye_IYW23iFkqmHTqW11Kg/s400/IMG_6454.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making a wish and blowing out the candles.</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"> </div><div style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent; border: 0px none; padding: 0px;" /></a></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-80531916435561045242011-09-17T15:07:00.001-07:002011-09-17T15:07:38.667-07:00Blake's Ready For Some Football!<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1P992-rKYs8L4wPVMItZjPlsEUrG7dFqbnDZxyok4xk6b8oRJofcmT1q0vIu7w9mFdNlannTPH9xEg-hRiBKAtm4R9zs7N5ySwH7h1cmbZljdPzm-J_1fabqVYHz6UJl7rwSSQXi_1Rg/s1600/IMG_6363.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1P992-rKYs8L4wPVMItZjPlsEUrG7dFqbnDZxyok4xk6b8oRJofcmT1q0vIu7w9mFdNlannTPH9xEg-hRiBKAtm4R9zs7N5ySwH7h1cmbZljdPzm-J_1fabqVYHz6UJl7rwSSQXi_1Rg/s400/IMG_6363.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 33 </td></tr>
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So it's been almost two months, but it's still just sinking in that Blake decided to put soccer on the back burner (or off the stovetop altogether; time will tell) and instead take a stab at freshman football.</div>
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Although he's never played any football beyond the annual Dawson Thanksgiving game and perhaps the schoolyard recess game, he quickly committed himself to the end-of-the-summer football camps and daily practices once school started.</div>
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(Note: If you don't easily digest a lot of parental bragging and boasting, then just skip this paragraph.) Blake's played in three games now. In the first game he had something like six tackles (despite an ultimate loss) and was named one of the four captains for the following week's game. In Game Two, he got a taste of playing offense at halfback and racked up two touchdowns, contributing to the team's first victory. And Game Three was a blowout -- 50-12.</div>
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And although he comes home with a bag of ice most nights after practice for an ice bath, he's always eager to get out there the next day and do it all over again.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJlkypshHNdBMAgtELEceFhQm-SKXRgGqbSWf6frKrpllEYjW2-1R79JWVg8GP7TrJqzI16j4g_Hm8KLswMqGGqDFv3jkgiKptPkt8o7EHSgfDABEe5-OKRoiZbx0nBRSlMwGG4IttU4k/s1600/IMG_6403.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJlkypshHNdBMAgtELEceFhQm-SKXRgGqbSWf6frKrpllEYjW2-1R79JWVg8GP7TrJqzI16j4g_Hm8KLswMqGGqDFv3jkgiKptPkt8o7EHSgfDABEe5-OKRoiZbx0nBRSlMwGG4IttU4k/s400/IMG_6403.JPG" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_R168Z1CqgFbd4CLXBGLm0-CXckbu8ZDaKHKuTAevfIV2QgQRRsZwpAgHxQfsx-Z-bx3weTLPpgfvHA5R2jf4GMr4lpnh8cAH1XL_hW1qpQGhgK1NLquEra-GNXOKA00Gut_PYifZpk/s1600/IMG_6053.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_R168Z1CqgFbd4CLXBGLm0-CXckbu8ZDaKHKuTAevfIV2QgQRRsZwpAgHxQfsx-Z-bx3weTLPpgfvHA5R2jf4GMr4lpnh8cAH1XL_hW1qpQGhgK1NLquEra-GNXOKA00Gut_PYifZpk/s400/IMG_6053.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake, No. 33, on the kick-off special team.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXNejgXQH303n8lcRWW000M0fpdvLt_p19jzGnugHMl0tHg69hyTsqdKFZWIJgbRFUKvbJgGBvm9NP8tLRcgcbUOjwz7Uwc31LkOuszcIJfb0Yogbl7bBsw5Iiei-U_z6BaGn2r0ST64I/s1600/IMG_6070.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXNejgXQH303n8lcRWW000M0fpdvLt_p19jzGnugHMl0tHg69hyTsqdKFZWIJgbRFUKvbJgGBvm9NP8tLRcgcbUOjwz7Uwc31LkOuszcIJfb0Yogbl7bBsw5Iiei-U_z6BaGn2r0ST64I/s400/IMG_6070.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake on offense.</td></tr>
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Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-32301659526481576002011-08-25T11:06:00.000-07:002011-08-25T11:06:08.033-07:00Allie gets bejeweled!<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><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/AVvXsEjHJX2ES8Xp-Q1VFRM380kVnjuRPrmPI6UBh5a6zQXTfmgA-RPCSZ35xRFSQknFtao4gleUgUksRwclh7uxdogr5FcA63U9xStYt5BlpHZnWE5uDlNATa9iZ8PJHQB9VVc1r-hGkQSrB9k/s1600/photo+%25282%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJX2ES8Xp-Q1VFRM380kVnjuRPrmPI6UBh5a6zQXTfmgA-RPCSZ35xRFSQknFtao4gleUgUksRwclh7uxdogr5FcA63U9xStYt5BlpHZnWE5uDlNATa9iZ8PJHQB9VVc1r-hGkQSrB9k/s400/photo+%25282%2529.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Allie is all smiles with her pierced ears.</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Zach and Allie recently turned seven, so I thought it would be a good time to surprise Allie with something she's been wanting for a long time -- pierced ears. Never mind that her 14-year-old brother has been ardently requesting his ears be pierced. Several times over the summer when he was at the mall with friends I received urgent, pleading phone calls asking if he could. And the answer was always no, his ears remain bare. Now that he's playing football he says it's a good thing.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But I thought the time was about right for Allie. We talked about it for days in advance, planning the big Saturday trip to my favorite shopping center which conveniently houses a Claire's. And if you don't know what a Claire's is, just imagine the minds of young girls exploding and colliding to produce every piece of costume jewelry, every hair accessory, notepads, pencils, pens, every color and scent of nail polish imaginable, all the fun stuff that comes with being a girl ... and oh yes, anything and everything plastered with Justin Bieber.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I told Allie what to expect. As she picked her earrings and took her seat, she was a bit apprehensive. The girl at Claire's quickly pierced the first ear. Allie looked at me like a deer looking into the headlights. Before she could say anything or change her facial expression, ear two had an earring in it. All done.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Allie loves her pierced ears and is so good at reminding me to clean her ears every morning and night. Now if only she was as good at taking the initiative to brush her teeth ...</span><br />
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-17566795452862203792011-07-19T20:39:00.000-07:002011-07-19T20:39:11.770-07:00Conquering the Whitewater<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><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/AVvXsEhb0xIxA005j1k3R6ZqEbJDl9psieYhhJpLcFAuzjoyRBYpNVpGMon4uJ5jaoZAPC3jGii1C9wK48d4EPUbxsrJxz0H4WqVhjgHXq-O7x2SMu_8l8dtUzO5vB4ireBwiPUi4k3_V73tTww/s1600/MEV_0007-1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0xIxA005j1k3R6ZqEbJDl9psieYhhJpLcFAuzjoyRBYpNVpGMon4uJ5jaoZAPC3jGii1C9wK48d4EPUbxsrJxz0H4WqVhjgHXq-O7x2SMu_8l8dtUzO5vB4ireBwiPUi4k3_V73tTww/s400/MEV_0007-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Rafting the Payette River in Idaho.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Summer vacation is rolling right along now with less than four weeks left until I regain my sanity ... I mean the kids go back to school.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We had a nice little break in June when we went to Boise to watch Blake and his soccer team represent Arizona in the U.S. Regional Soccer Championships. Nick didn't want any part of the 16-hour car ride and marathon of soccer games, so we arranged for him to visit his grandparents in Sacramento. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4Wgiw2hHR_J48GcJinzMbRuA2HbIzfj4sBolj1O0cxz7-oKC5l5eUpsr693gP4E1Y8ZiLILF9aS0f3nBgJkZNnSrUjSzJsIF1w64jpXhV5xMWzyRvkP0dy_QYOJNKDKCj5naXr2ECeM/s1600/MEV_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4Wgiw2hHR_J48GcJinzMbRuA2HbIzfj4sBolj1O0cxz7-oKC5l5eUpsr693gP4E1Y8ZiLILF9aS0f3nBgJkZNnSrUjSzJsIF1w64jpXhV5xMWzyRvkP0dy_QYOJNKDKCj5naXr2ECeM/s400/MEV_0009.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After a game a day on three consecutive days and securing a spot in the quarterfinals, the team had a full day off so we decided to venture beyond the likes of the local zoo, old prison, and science center -- all fun, quick visits when we had a few hours before or after a soccer game. So we decided to add a little zing to our trip by taking Zach and Allie whitewater rafting.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Back in the day (that would be in the pre-children day) Brett and I took quite a few whitewater trips -- mostly down the American River and once on the Merced outside of Yosemite. I was a little apprehensive about my little son who has an apprehensive disposition ... especially when it comes to things like thrill rides and bouncing up and down uncontrollably in a raging river that can't be shut off with the flick of a switch. Would a boy who wouldn't go on Splash Mountain at Disneyland last summer venture into the mouth of the hungry Payette River?</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4yx-cxbABgi4kwbPcpFepEsrY0wK-rUoX9JVLYssBMyh2mVSLw1TqyyK-EmJKfTqCSiDbZCyqyzCqoFwGBtall7tuPo8qX4xNsE6a5zIs0UY4oF2hdbX9uzgwgcsqXKEd8CVK2xlZK4A/s1600/MEV_0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4yx-cxbABgi4kwbPcpFepEsrY0wK-rUoX9JVLYssBMyh2mVSLw1TqyyK-EmJKfTqCSiDbZCyqyzCqoFwGBtall7tuPo8qX4xNsE6a5zIs0UY4oF2hdbX9uzgwgcsqXKEd8CVK2xlZK4A/s320/MEV_0008.JPG" width="320" /></a>When we arrived at the meeting place and the raft tour guides suggested Zach and Allie wear wet suits, puzzlement and what I would classify as a slight case of fear crept over both their faces. And when one of the guides gave the obligatory spiel about what to do if you fall out of the raft, Zach scrunched his eyebrows, shot a look out at the river, and looked at me for reassurance.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Once we got out in the river, Zach planted his feet as far as he could under the inflated crossbar. And he planted his eyes intently on the waters ahead. After the exhilaration of the first few sets of rapids, Zach grew more confident and by the end had asked to sit up front. I knew in the beginning he might have chosen to protest the venture, but I'm so glad -- especially for his sake -- that he put his initial fear aside, slipped into the wet suit and jumped in the raft. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now he's asking when we can go again, and, best of all, he'll have that wonderful memory of careening through the whitewater of Idaho with his sister and parents.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitiMW8ydACgl0_yB8rEt1ZAZB34aUjQYO9u07XewUrkPYHt1mpEgecRhj5LGIr_IVZvh-sGeU1Sm6RhrFOXymJHLsxfR1x9sqi__VpZLlyW4xszT4S4K6X9SoiF-zW5NBIjGihw9OU8I/s1600/MEV_0010.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitiMW8ydACgl0_yB8rEt1ZAZB34aUjQYO9u07XewUrkPYHt1mpEgecRhj5LGIr_IVZvh-sGeU1Sm6RhrFOXymJHLsxfR1x9sqi__VpZLlyW4xszT4S4K6X9SoiF-zW5NBIjGihw9OU8I/s400/MEV_0010.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-33391026476542563092011-06-16T06:36:00.000-07:002011-06-16T06:36:14.898-07:00Pretty in Pink<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kHxdzUn1EI4etC5nhNIG8TamPcZC8SLqL8janjDh5OHPOQzloXEbdouhKfqqJ3VgBuA7HU5dJZni7FhpFhHblG0FTgOQBhlKcPKZTZ7UrGyZFk4mfha8e_nr_AGuJwi_Krc6-3n1bK0/s1600/IMG_3755.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kHxdzUn1EI4etC5nhNIG8TamPcZC8SLqL8janjDh5OHPOQzloXEbdouhKfqqJ3VgBuA7HU5dJZni7FhpFhHblG0FTgOQBhlKcPKZTZ7UrGyZFk4mfha8e_nr_AGuJwi_Krc6-3n1bK0/s400/IMG_3755.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's that time of year when pretty pink tutus are oh-so-carefully placed on little girls' sun-kissed bodies, hair is tightly pulled back in almost-perfect buns, a shot of blush is applied to the cheeks, and a swipe of lipgloss meets the smiles of excited little girls. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yes, it's dance recital season.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And Allie and the dance troupe recently took the first step toward the big dance with Picture Day. All dolled up in their costumes and a bit of makeup brightening their eager faces, the little ballerinas lined up and posed for the camera.</span><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hUWKHxoLjhf67WE532ks8MuXnVhSOnOuoPWSYTxJTvM8jd-yLJY3gHOinFZ0ezwhTQNRb4lV12JJ95leTzXDpMasiRW0Aa3ZQnISNWVgNh3NCpcktDUXUN-T8G2W-xVEnX3iEkVgjjM/s1600/IMG_3765.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hUWKHxoLjhf67WE532ks8MuXnVhSOnOuoPWSYTxJTvM8jd-yLJY3gHOinFZ0ezwhTQNRb4lV12JJ95leTzXDpMasiRW0Aa3ZQnISNWVgNh3NCpcktDUXUN-T8G2W-xVEnX3iEkVgjjM/s400/IMG_3765.JPG" /></a> </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaPuOggfwMpMnGtm7f27ckCRwz0XBbiijcC5V_NySjny5GrXZ90rkxJgd3aMk6huaHrDjeBk0wxRc9oxtGZYO1W082QfHXERfbMov53WIyfVE4_tyoZ4SwaGkqjJtECIXv0Ny7bPRgWDM/s1600/IMG_3783.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaPuOggfwMpMnGtm7f27ckCRwz0XBbiijcC5V_NySjny5GrXZ90rkxJgd3aMk6huaHrDjeBk0wxRc9oxtGZYO1W082QfHXERfbMov53WIyfVE4_tyoZ4SwaGkqjJtECIXv0Ny7bPRgWDM/s400/IMG_3783.JPG" /></a> </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhilk3kCWmHeeNIUrWOInVsLlq1VV00ozrNqutBVku0v4Y5bNwcdJke3fStDH8Tbr3P_XLu0BMM7l6SkgvZAYnDOZJC-wY2lQv4CbW3kIdC-hmFdGDFzKpHxr1beFJNTcww7SJBZz3RJ5Y/s1600/IMG_3787.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhilk3kCWmHeeNIUrWOInVsLlq1VV00ozrNqutBVku0v4Y5bNwcdJke3fStDH8Tbr3P_XLu0BMM7l6SkgvZAYnDOZJC-wY2lQv4CbW3kIdC-hmFdGDFzKpHxr1beFJNTcww7SJBZz3RJ5Y/s400/IMG_3787.JPG" /></a> </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0qaKKL270Pmxo9g2IKs__-5Sm3TkmRdKJcGi5oocAaM1guG4ah9lKYIsdaXSKOItZJoC33F6dU7UEYnZem46XCXYMXAHVb54hgKUzPGqMv_PubH_61qiPUANZdBAFjTpwylalepfXrQ/s1600/IMG_3808.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0qaKKL270Pmxo9g2IKs__-5Sm3TkmRdKJcGi5oocAaM1guG4ah9lKYIsdaXSKOItZJoC33F6dU7UEYnZem46XCXYMXAHVb54hgKUzPGqMv_PubH_61qiPUANZdBAFjTpwylalepfXrQ/s400/IMG_3808.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: CENTER;"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent; border: 0px none; padding: 0px;" /></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-36307628870497360272011-06-13T23:34:00.001-07:002011-06-13T23:35:11.404-07:00A Freshman in the House<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggzYlxsoZnUpoHQLzti8QulTh-iGzA1Q89TuYLxcrsOyoVOe0f1VKFg9gwLkXSzJAA67XHIXZjZlZU__BWOru7TeRp4tvaT-Hwxn_jlfRvxqDRCmvm5l_Vnn4IKyW7lHy9QEvloNpCN68/s1600/IMG_3925.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggzYlxsoZnUpoHQLzti8QulTh-iGzA1Q89TuYLxcrsOyoVOe0f1VKFg9gwLkXSzJAA67XHIXZjZlZU__BWOru7TeRp4tvaT-Hwxn_jlfRvxqDRCmvm5l_Vnn4IKyW7lHy9QEvloNpCN68/s400/IMG_3925.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With the close of the school year came Blake's 8th grade promotion. Back when I was a kid it was 8th grade graduation, but these days it's a promotion. So hard to believe ... seems like just yesterday that Scooby Doo backpack looked so cumbersome on his little kindergarten back.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYdSYSvyHsgRFssBfKfEdX1XWspl8bIPR2VfFKRbCyABJe-SFXPGMrbO_ff8oq3GOcaTQ-llt07uM-DZ5CjTuQPfCSN7t7lPzyBuvCFyZw7YPDq_LQJxNaayS5_l55qrkHqoHWzqIGTT8/s1600/IMG_3936.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYdSYSvyHsgRFssBfKfEdX1XWspl8bIPR2VfFKRbCyABJe-SFXPGMrbO_ff8oq3GOcaTQ-llt07uM-DZ5CjTuQPfCSN7t7lPzyBuvCFyZw7YPDq_LQJxNaayS5_l55qrkHqoHWzqIGTT8/s400/IMG_3936.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blake originally wanted to get decked out all in white and accessorize with aviator glasses. I managed to talk him into something he might actually wear again and he opted for black slacks and dress shirt from the Calvin Klein outlet.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When it came to his tie, Blake had visions of a bright red, so we trekked through a good chunk of the apparel stores at the outlets until we found "the one."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LkgdoX-7nSROh0gDjYxUC1F3YC3lSf8hEuq8UI78wLqDcQKUcZpnisd7ofBl-y42237VyLZAdBlJhEpcleTAIiyM9fwbt2WzaJaQRO9eHTc975-abR5-ItYbvjctVe9lDp56j2s7III/s1600/IMG_3940.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LkgdoX-7nSROh0gDjYxUC1F3YC3lSf8hEuq8UI78wLqDcQKUcZpnisd7ofBl-y42237VyLZAdBlJhEpcleTAIiyM9fwbt2WzaJaQRO9eHTc975-abR5-ItYbvjctVe9lDp56j2s7III/s400/IMG_3940.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Blake and his friend (really, friend).</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span> </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a little help from Dad and the grandpas, Blake got his tie in place. He slipped the aviator glasses on and he was ready to roll.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We ventured down Carefree Highway to dinner at El Encantos Dos ... only one pitcher of margaritas was spilled. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhia3DXJqvjxYkFROa3AHEyi_LnJ9vqIsB4kNXnt-p3YKgJOrhIUltJVfCqmP8Rao9EUbSkYF3aD91kDEbyKSOJ6_pSjLLZQab7mt3mF73YpNKnDa9vrrtumEs84fPm2v2wEWKYJJSDPT8/s1600/IMG_3953.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhia3DXJqvjxYkFROa3AHEyi_LnJ9vqIsB4kNXnt-p3YKgJOrhIUltJVfCqmP8Rao9EUbSkYF3aD91kDEbyKSOJ6_pSjLLZQab7mt3mF73YpNKnDa9vrrtumEs84fPm2v2wEWKYJJSDPT8/s400/IMG_3953.JPG" /></a></span> </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And then Blake and his classmates filled the auditorium at the high school where most of them will be attending next year.</span> The obligatory speeches were made, the diplomas distributed, and, just like that, I have a high-schooler.</div><br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNGmOjQnFXm9tt8YKg7-jPPqk4pON82kdKzLyuDqLQ4NGavYUvyHfTToOcEwxPmpbN3J8yUqPe_QnZpEMclJPHmbojGVEaK7zVcpSwCNj2L-5WUsQIzIb5HbZAbGGjFxR7qbYMaWU_bcE/s1600/IMG_3981.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNGmOjQnFXm9tt8YKg7-jPPqk4pON82kdKzLyuDqLQ4NGavYUvyHfTToOcEwxPmpbN3J8yUqPe_QnZpEMclJPHmbojGVEaK7zVcpSwCNj2L-5WUsQIzIb5HbZAbGGjFxR7qbYMaWU_bcE/s400/IMG_3981.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent; border: 0px none; padding: 0px;" /></a></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-68988431482156798392011-05-24T06:33:00.007-07:002011-05-24T08:57:16.014-07:00State Champs!<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCnNEe4tvCPevU8v4RI0JNmXiuBZN8llVG3LnOHx75Jx3UUiCgzgkwEJBC-A_n1jPBX2SygKcBfg7ufypo4NF6N9kreG61zvbQcbjgJxx13hAqvo5yYYA3dEWdipeh_PyS0coJxL3wF8/s1600/StateCupFinale192.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCnNEe4tvCPevU8v4RI0JNmXiuBZN8llVG3LnOHx75Jx3UUiCgzgkwEJBC-A_n1jPBX2SygKcBfg7ufypo4NF6N9kreG61zvbQcbjgJxx13hAqvo5yYYA3dEWdipeh_PyS0coJxL3wF8/s400/StateCupFinale192.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610276507786322914" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >CCV Stars U14 Boys ~ 2011 State Champs</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's been an exciting year for Blake's soccer team. Over the past two seasons we've watched his team mature and develop into a force to be reckoned with. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42oGOF8oUi4cujSJay7RFi8Sz_b_khzyQJamdpwK_pmoMhQWdcWHcuzCaHuDKtnuC_j27ltrutLe0ZIO6lMJ5HQmb9cT9MRtZkON7Ocf-4QQ8yyCKd740uVOCMjZ2tMaTYBF76dvHMYQ/s1600/IMG_3544.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42oGOF8oUi4cujSJay7RFi8Sz_b_khzyQJamdpwK_pmoMhQWdcWHcuzCaHuDKtnuC_j27ltrutLe0ZIO6lMJ5HQmb9cT9MRtZkON7Ocf-4QQ8yyCKd740uVOCMjZ2tMaTYBF76dvHMYQ/s400/IMG_3544.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610276163201245154" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Pre-game huddle/prayer</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The CCV Stars Black team won a couple tournaments, took first place in state league and entered the State Cup championship as the Number 1 seed. They swept all the games of the State Cup, which takes place over about five weekends, with no goals against them. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHP5_NR0iV1mW0xjtPag0sR960wRMp4Ee6ZEzK4m-N-UljMSJc4MVlzHmQFMFZSTI7GIfxNRqXBAZch1OFEL2LMkqxrbdRr52VuugbDwsRmXIcceOI-3PZMynPjWG6_yw1FvViAjdzMZo/s1600/IMG_3612.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHP5_NR0iV1mW0xjtPag0sR960wRMp4Ee6ZEzK4m-N-UljMSJc4MVlzHmQFMFZSTI7GIfxNRqXBAZch1OFEL2LMkqxrbdRr52VuugbDwsRmXIcceOI-3PZMynPjWG6_yw1FvViAjdzMZo/s400/IMG_3612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610276169162638482" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Blake in action.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the final game against Sereno, a club that has been the dominant force in Arizona for the past decade or two, Blake's team emerged the champs with a 2-1 victory.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Blake had been plagued with a nagging knee injury since late March and hadn't seen much playing time in league games and the early games of the State Cup. But in the final, Blake was back to his usual aggressive, to-be-feared self, playing more almost three-fourths of the game. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Blake's a tank," I heard one parent utter on the sideline.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">So proud of the team and our tank.</span><br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KXabKUe7enLktLvsNB7aM6ngQA6dCUTx05M2lbfeOfl9YbSedeq84rF3Uyuv5_hg7Lg6w4o_L31VBEDQU4Q1ys188ARsg4KZhRR8rdHlfKETdAr4r03fcLFIJJdHaMauekFRwglTyBA/s1600/IMG_3613.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KXabKUe7enLktLvsNB7aM6ngQA6dCUTx05M2lbfeOfl9YbSedeq84rF3Uyuv5_hg7Lg6w4o_L31VBEDQU4Q1ys188ARsg4KZhRR8rdHlfKETdAr4r03fcLFIJJdHaMauekFRwglTyBA/s400/IMG_3613.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610276173284970178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >The tank, plowing in.</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: verdana;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42oGOF8oUi4cujSJay7RFi8Sz_b_khzyQJamdpwK_pmoMhQWdcWHcuzCaHuDKtnuC_j27ltrutLe0ZIO6lMJ5HQmb9cT9MRtZkON7Ocf-4QQ8yyCKd740uVOCMjZ2tMaTYBF76dvHMYQ/s1600/IMG_3544.JPG"><br /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: verdana;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhdgsSocjVmrAVejB_tDzvp0d-zfBPnRVBeCjtqqmujX9iHPKp0aIGlBC_yq3RqSYqR_xcBYuPVyjGDq7v1Nr_lqymG_Nm791GG-waRkW966Bf82P5b6LGqSkX3GBGvHymaJ0ZdDXcp0/s1600/IMG_3669.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhdgsSocjVmrAVejB_tDzvp0d-zfBPnRVBeCjtqqmujX9iHPKp0aIGlBC_yq3RqSYqR_xcBYuPVyjGDq7v1Nr_lqymG_Nm791GG-waRkW966Bf82P5b6LGqSkX3GBGvHymaJ0ZdDXcp0/s400/IMG_3669.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610276179846496338" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family: verdana;">Number One!</span><br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: verdana;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi57vOmabV5Twv262FVVZu4pzFaL5S7_b7M_n0F9NZfXaONqmjqvGzyrdJ46B8F7u1AUyjvNUdTWqbrOoGBkYRGOyU6uli5C9ZQE9p63tvgCbHz1yNnEu32hFhCDuJ2SXuISmJh92j1kA/s1600/IMG_3722.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi57vOmabV5Twv262FVVZu4pzFaL5S7_b7M_n0F9NZfXaONqmjqvGzyrdJ46B8F7u1AUyjvNUdTWqbrOoGBkYRGOyU6uli5C9ZQE9p63tvgCbHz1yNnEu32hFhCDuJ2SXuISmJh92j1kA/s400/IMG_3722.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610276184957656370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family: verdana;">Blake with his medal.</span></span><br /></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-62024306852328894162011-05-13T12:01:00.004-07:002011-05-13T12:07:37.921-07:00Still Toothless After All These Years<div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIH7Kt-4h-gsvCFEVCGre5TSDxsds_Ds2d92e77PTX2gTd3KhVzPrkkxJdmq7VlbYtrZ0VRfIbqtgF3FUxI-GZuZj2aIohxrA9Sv9YMzxY78ldkIA3T7WXOaVNjhVCtz0UMzuj4zt2qE/s1600/IMG_3300.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIH7Kt-4h-gsvCFEVCGre5TSDxsds_Ds2d92e77PTX2gTd3KhVzPrkkxJdmq7VlbYtrZ0VRfIbqtgF3FUxI-GZuZj2aIohxrA9Sv9YMzxY78ldkIA3T7WXOaVNjhVCtz0UMzuj4zt2qE/s400/IMG_3300.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She's still as cute as ever but it seems like it's been years since Allie could take a bite out of an apple or corn-on-the-cobb without a problem. Actually, it's been more than two years for the first one, which she lost in April when she was 4!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I can't remember exactly when the second top tooth came out, but I know she's had that double gap all of first grade and the two front bottom teeth are with the Tooth Fairy and are grown in now. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The dentist assures us all is normal and those two permanent teeth are there on the x-rays to prove it. So until then, we'll continue to admire her darling little toothless smile.</span><br /></div> </div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-35178215331020460962011-05-05T14:22:00.008-07:002011-05-06T14:09:06.457-07:00Hair Today ...<div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepxunWy_1WYUBTvaDUir-gseYOdQnmh_L47KBNSrX9Q3rxipaFpEKTcR5uUmwhAn7L9p_uFSoUzIcF7Gr6JyuQe_PeEeCcDWAcwpTLym5gGUSzNYfrlMTl0iVXqfKUp0nfh4YKb3MNY8/s1600/photo.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepxunWy_1WYUBTvaDUir-gseYOdQnmh_L47KBNSrX9Q3rxipaFpEKTcR5uUmwhAn7L9p_uFSoUzIcF7Gr6JyuQe_PeEeCcDWAcwpTLym5gGUSzNYfrlMTl0iVXqfKUp0nfh4YKb3MNY8/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Blake's new haircut.<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">A week or so ago Blake conceded his signature long locks were looking a little on the shaggy side and asked if one of us could take him for a trim.<br /><br />Brett did the honors and when Blake walked into the kitchen upon his arrival home, I couldn't stop my mouth in time before uttering, "Hey, Justin, how's it going?" </span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">"I know ... it sucks," Blake said, shaking his head in what appeared to be an attempt to get it to fall just the right way to perhaps meet the lower end of the approval standard. But no.<br /><br />Then I opened my mouth again and put the final nail in the coffin.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">"It's cute ... It kind of looks like (friend)'s hair." </span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">"I k</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">now ... that's so lame ... I'm getting it all cut off," he said.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">So back we went for the second haircut of the day (the things we do for our kids ... ).<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">We told the hairstylist that he just had it cut and he didn't like it.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">"A little too Justin Bieber for ya?" she asked.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">"Yah," Blake sheepishly repli</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">ed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And as he stole a glance at his new 'do in the reflection of the wi</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">ndow, a revelation came over him. "Wow! I can hear."</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">"Good ... you can turn your crazy rap music down."</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYI1Y3u4wuhxka6gq5akAxI6kF1iMzx5EEQ4gegwfy88lbwRtq1n_-k0IAGG6HtbL9fnw1nXJA5CbKou-3rfRqmAOjRRr-Vz5gi38fxR_GeH9B3aSEkPSirp2NdJbKQGbi13RU3uhZSI/s1600/IMG_0117.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYI1Y3u4wuhxka6gq5akAxI6kF1iMzx5EEQ4gegwfy88lbwRtq1n_-k0IAGG6HtbL9fnw1nXJA5CbKou-3rfRqmAOjRRr-Vz5gi38fxR_GeH9B3aSEkPSirp2NdJbKQGbi13RU3uhZSI/s400/IMG_0117.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603712062406864770" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">Blake with the long hair he's had for about the past four years (minus one short haircut two years ago).</span></span><br /></div></div></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-2269916339532954222011-04-22T07:43:00.005-07:002011-04-22T07:52:56.797-07:00Another Hoopster in the House<div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3p07Z_y2zfa_geom-DanQ5PLyhu4j05JXBrC91hMhKI9IPtyY5Hec7QJmdIsLljvhKIbXYpUMN-tysYP4qM9cGAn7jWvMA4U7SJfz9A6BmGlK7gRERmz4l3-PAAutKwG3Fy2nRAWlUQ/s1600/IMG_2567.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3p07Z_y2zfa_geom-DanQ5PLyhu4j05JXBrC91hMhKI9IPtyY5Hec7QJmdIsLljvhKIbXYpUMN-tysYP4qM9cGAn7jWvMA4U7SJfz9A6BmGlK7gRERmz4l3-PAAutKwG3Fy2nRAWlUQ/s400/IMG_2567.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><span style="font-family: verdana;">After following in Blake's footsteps and playing soccer since he was in kindergarten, Nick grew a bit weary of the sport over the past year. It was his second year of playing at club level. Unfortunately his team lost every game over those past two seasons. And Nick played keeper, often putting undue pressure on himself. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhcJXrQ-GF2XBoeN3sFeHRdFMI5UdQ0zla6HPrrOKw1FIOXvFKTVmk8aVxhG6Qbv_dHsGwF6_x2prtWPC9GqWP1Gh2QA0lpGJmHoE3IcI9JIvZgh3j-KeecFwb1mi6GKPVHRUrLK0B6s/s1600/IMG_2584.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhcJXrQ-GF2XBoeN3sFeHRdFMI5UdQ0zla6HPrrOKw1FIOXvFKTVmk8aVxhG6Qbv_dHsGwF6_x2prtWPC9GqWP1Gh2QA0lpGJmHoE3IcI9JIvZgh3j-KeecFwb1mi6GKPVHRUrLK0B6s/s400/IMG_2584.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">So as the season winded down, he vehemently announced he wouldn't be playing soccer anymore and simultaneously developed an interest in playing basketball.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Through a friend, Nick landed on a club team, and has been shooting, dribbling and rebounding with a fierce and passionate intensity ever since.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">He's scored six points so far and see him excited to get out and play warms my heart ... and is so much less stressful than trying to force him out the door to soccer practice :)</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-p3jSrL-G_M6ZNQ9MwGPok4lXpq7XCb6HUZGTolDLv8oOd2B3MeEphCfcNmerYjlcuLrz71HdOjBquCt9VKyoRFXMjvx33CqKAjhiS2z1tEJQrtL28rCabGlNJEDM37AywpFQTEgi08/s1600/IMG_2597.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-p3jSrL-G_M6ZNQ9MwGPok4lXpq7XCb6HUZGTolDLv8oOd2B3MeEphCfcNmerYjlcuLrz71HdOjBquCt9VKyoRFXMjvx33CqKAjhiS2z1tEJQrtL28rCabGlNJEDM37AywpFQTEgi08/s400/IMG_2597.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none; padding: 0px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-12464000682302385752011-03-30T11:12:00.008-07:002011-04-22T07:27:15.630-07:00Unrivalled: Spring Break in Arizona<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsG4bC5o5us_bfRYbcFqTVawMBmSIT50p4rJfaWgverjwIqo5TQR0b7xMgmxitigs54FJY9uWGx8741pb3xP97bB656yjBR2hewIqBk39byh2Gcnj7kUpMnOXlsFOF-qqSs2HKB8TsGs/s1600/IMG_2381.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsG4bC5o5us_bfRYbcFqTVawMBmSIT50p4rJfaWgverjwIqo5TQR0b7xMgmxitigs54FJY9uWGx8741pb3xP97bB656yjBR2hewIqBk39byh2Gcnj7kUpMnOXlsFOF-qqSs2HKB8TsGs/s400/IMG_2381.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598414283468168658" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's my favorite time of year here in Phoenix -- after the last of the overnight frost and freeze warnings have passed and the days warm up just enough to be comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt, but not so much that sweat is dripping down your brow or you gasp for air as you go outside (no, that comes in July). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Our mid-March spring break was perfect this year. It had just escaped days of crazy rain and unseasonable coolness, forcing a few more days of battling with the kids to keep on the sweatshirts and jeans. By the time the week-long school break came, it was perfect.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">We got to share our beautiful weather with Brett's Mom and her husband Erik, who escaped their frigid, snowy Minnesota climate for the week.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I tried to keep us busy and enjoying the outdoors, and the fact that nobody passed out from exhaustion or too much time on the road is a good sign.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">For starters I scored some Groupon tickets to the Desert Botanical Gardens in Phoenix,</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> which seemed like a good touristy thing to do. The kids probably could have found a funner way to spend a morning, but they made it out alive ... and their knowledge of the prickly pear cactus has never been higher.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">We also headed up to Sedona, where we ventured on a fun off-road Jeep tour. All four kids loved it and the best part was when we were heading down some precarious-looking, mammoth-sized rocks. Our tour guide stopped the Jeep, as it angled do</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">wnward at a sharp angle, and said, "Knock knock." </span><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"> </div> <div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"> </div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Who's there?" Nick replied.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"> </div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Yah," Brandon, the Jeep driver, said.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Yah-who?" says Nick as Brandon nails it and sends us bolting down the boulders. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"><a href="http://localhost:51786/bf26bf9e5cf554b1e267e000994f0b40/image/36fbb17eb926512f.jpg"><img alt="" src="http://localhost:51786/bf26bf9e5cf554b1e267e000994f0b40/image/36fbb17eb926512f.jpg?size=400" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">All four kids erupted in laughter and I don't think I've ever, ever seen Zach laugh so hard. Fun times, great memories.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"> </div><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"><a href="http://localhost:51786/bf26bf9e5cf554b1e267e000994f0b40/image/151dedc3a284ae1b.jpg"><img alt="" src="http://localhost:51786/bf26bf9e5cf554b1e267e000994f0b40/image/151dedc3a284ae1b.jpg?size=400" border="0" /></a> </div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-58340708231218069542011-03-13T14:32:00.003-07:002011-03-13T15:37:08.981-07:00Chasing Rainbows<div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxz5mOpAn1OsgBPwBY5s4zKQAlLYaoXDSAvoYHxynuJmS-Dom7Eu_msT_RMmOdg3UcrR05BgEc9xzpGrrQN4eyNeBNAuHlZTncpVrMUQxofbBmFo_8rzDKrF3njfERgX2Y2e1ihotDNS4/s1600/IMG_1588.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxz5mOpAn1OsgBPwBY5s4zKQAlLYaoXDSAvoYHxynuJmS-Dom7Eu_msT_RMmOdg3UcrR05BgEc9xzpGrrQN4eyNeBNAuHlZTncpVrMUQxofbBmFo_8rzDKrF3njfERgX2Y2e1ihotDNS4/s400/IMG_1588.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Well this was a couple weeks ago, but we had quite a bit of rain in February, so much so that it almost began to feel like the norm. Putting on jackets and grabbing umbrellas quickly became second nature to the kids. Or at least to Zach and Allie. Blake and Nick are tough and can handle the cold and rain in their Nike athletic shorts.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The kids loved jumping on the trampoline with a double rainbow overhead. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">We also had a cold spell with frigid nights in the low 20s where much of our greenery died ... or at least temporarily turned brown until the warm spring rays bring the sun-loving vegetation back to life. We even had snow on the mountain up across the street from our house.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Ahhh ... but it's all just a memory now as we burst back up into the 80s. The best time of the year here.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLtNzekT7p763wxl6KDwLnnFWOmnwMRhwIui0niN6Qyx0FIXbFuzfdHRxvddoUZ6NCxtLsLnOO5n8Kso4cnarj1J4Xr7_xFxoqBGo8zl6azNlYvbIuRKQfUlnghyA33bn46hjuqzzNXE/s1600/IMG_1606.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLtNzekT7p763wxl6KDwLnnFWOmnwMRhwIui0niN6Qyx0FIXbFuzfdHRxvddoUZ6NCxtLsLnOO5n8Kso4cnarj1J4Xr7_xFxoqBGo8zl6azNlYvbIuRKQfUlnghyA33bn46hjuqzzNXE/s400/IMG_1606.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none; padding: 0px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-68232942186133790722011-02-23T11:39:00.004-07:002011-02-24T22:48:24.629-07:00Daddy/Daughter Dance: Year Two<div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wOXFwnNdUyqEdRJCzetD3zYQdI1YDoGaeMtocyM4zL49eQ-X6cvLlWgfNmIrAgkNfrf8XYJZVUBBgBasMvdTs44D_qXKR3HNsuv2_hEZ_v6nP5IOcgQMYy7M2pJMpbNdUWdNqkFJ4cY/s1600/IMG_1166.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wOXFwnNdUyqEdRJCzetD3zYQdI1YDoGaeMtocyM4zL49eQ-X6cvLlWgfNmIrAgkNfrf8XYJZVUBBgBasMvdTs44D_qXKR3HNsuv2_hEZ_v6nP5IOcgQMYy7M2pJMpbNdUWdNqkFJ4cY/s400/IMG_1166.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div>I<span style="font-family:verdana;">f it's February, then it's time for the school's annual Daddy/Daughter dance. Allie looked adorable and her daddy dashing all dolled up for the occasion. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWB5RWTnRRRxdTDWn5rflclpt54AKD9RiNtyzqM_hyphenhyphenXDghtzeNVUg7cTZsAuNCU3nLROi1fQSB1ZoptkLotcqw47wXy5u8f7M0bUQd9eQSPDryGJfAa7aNyw9v6b2FJPp6R3SrudUtiXk/s1600/IMG_1176.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWB5RWTnRRRxdTDWn5rflclpt54AKD9RiNtyzqM_hyphenhyphenXDghtzeNVUg7cTZsAuNCU3nLROi1fQSB1ZoptkLotcqw47wXy5u8f7M0bUQd9eQSPDryGJfAa7aNyw9v6b2FJPp6R3SrudUtiXk/s400/IMG_1176.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I had eyed that darling black and white dress at Costco and made the risky move of buying it sight unseen by Allie. When she got home and I held it up for her, she put her hands on her hips and uttered, "Sorry, Mom. It's not gonna happen."</span><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"> </div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But then a few days passed and more than once I caught her casting her gaze toward the dress hanging from my bedroom doorknob. Finally she announced, "OK, I'll at least try it on." And once it was on, she was hooked.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Allie had a great time with Brett and with R, her BFF from across the street. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Brett said he got in three dances with her before the craziness between the girls began ... that and the cookie-eating.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6O-xucTDOO2J9bdO1sqynM8DQ0A4tKmm8mx2_cLVAqe7wW3j8QSdOGvxw9Akn6F9DIS6d1q-0UAy7yyvZsTFZs4LBty-SoyQxlTXLt1k22HhkpzDQSwI1w91M0d8f1cqK9G-9j0ZsLc/s1600/IMG_1192.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6O-xucTDOO2J9bdO1sqynM8DQ0A4tKmm8mx2_cLVAqe7wW3j8QSdOGvxw9Akn6F9DIS6d1q-0UAy7yyvZsTFZs4LBty-SoyQxlTXLt1k22HhkpzDQSwI1w91M0d8f1cqK9G-9j0ZsLc/s400/IMG_1192.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4h4TQcLPsE2Kp-tBhb2HTYhEW8c5QTeBZS8Mqw8LZRXtgk8E4MSdiwGaqRiy4OczR9YwhmfKmb9GDd2nobpTkawonZceLYqlqNxM_3sZPpjXl1OCuFdLywZnqOdGKTZYqH2RhoRQzAg/s1600/IMG_1203.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4h4TQcLPsE2Kp-tBhb2HTYhEW8c5QTeBZS8Mqw8LZRXtgk8E4MSdiwGaqRiy4OczR9YwhmfKmb9GDd2nobpTkawonZceLYqlqNxM_3sZPpjXl1OCuFdLywZnqOdGKTZYqH2RhoRQzAg/s400/IMG_1203.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none; padding: 0px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-38587133284916055092011-02-13T07:05:00.010-07:002011-02-13T08:09:53.403-07:00Zachy Hoops It Up<div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFixgKtqelL-zV65GGrPYR03iUBWd_yEoXYtCNbyeeCdObVZMmb2s6mL677XenUHJkqwktgtXEivQ40f92OZa3tR1UAMx5F3FJc2LGUjIfkid0v2lfMqIPrMHBW_go863M7zUuBBcUA0k/s1600/IMG_1088.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFixgKtqelL-zV65GGrPYR03iUBWd_yEoXYtCNbyeeCdObVZMmb2s6mL677XenUHJkqwktgtXEivQ40f92OZa3tR1UAMx5F3FJc2LGUjIfkid0v2lfMqIPrMHBW_go863M7zUuBBcUA0k/s400/IMG_1088.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Zach receives a pass.</span><br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Zachy tried the soccer thing. But unlike his brothers, soccer didn't stick ... at least for now. Maybe it was because there were 13+ boys on the team and he only got to play half the game, but whatever the reason, we decided to encourage him to try some other sports.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">So a couple weeks ago he launched his basketball career ... and I think he's found a passion. After his first practice, the inside of our house became a makeshift basketball court -- dribbling down the halls, passing to siblings, shooting off the walls.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And at his first couple games, Zach goes after the ball like a boy on a mission. The only problem so far is he's not sure what to do after he gets the ball ... other than dribble ... and dribble ... and dribble. And then he might shoot. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">He's had a couple close ones, but we're still waiting for his first basket. In the meantime, we're helping him understand the concept of passing :)</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgapqOsbAZcOx68BC0ZRMQEib426vlYdJvJlwlFo6CUtZgLAd2U_hh5g4XxP-ezT5b_Rqm11Duv7JwDuEACfD5EIJUlhlNg7ABXohtt-N4Cm_TBekcsCm9LCEvkupulK4RBpKRCV1YJsqo/s1600/IMG_1089.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgapqOsbAZcOx68BC0ZRMQEib426vlYdJvJlwlFo6CUtZgLAd2U_hh5g4XxP-ezT5b_Rqm11Duv7JwDuEACfD5EIJUlhlNg7ABXohtt-N4Cm_TBekcsCm9LCEvkupulK4RBpKRCV1YJsqo/s400/IMG_1089.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Another pass comes his way.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhV08kai4h4mDVsFDpzloKHSUlaf4YDgeZrjQ6Zqn2d7vfesMzDB4wbH-EguChUIt4av6p3fx1Z8Hi-jv0fPpLOrvtJfVswsVS3DgjT5cZrG4lMtfIIUmjmsm6IQGQIjoTeWrtWW7qCI/s1600/IMG_1097.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhV08kai4h4mDVsFDpzloKHSUlaf4YDgeZrjQ6Zqn2d7vfesMzDB4wbH-EguChUIt4av6p3fx1Z8Hi-jv0fPpLOrvtJfVswsVS3DgjT5cZrG4lMtfIIUmjmsm6IQGQIjoTeWrtWW7qCI/s400/IMG_1097.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">Way to get those arms up, Zach!</span></span><br /></div></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-68595805565380594922011-02-03T14:12:00.003-07:002011-02-03T14:12:52.171-07:00Blake Turns 14!<table style="width: auto;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/U1H72nktKVya-Zo_H-yOYNsbjZwzXQgqwe2K5sl90Ec?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/_n-avbkrcsxU/TUsZECcYZwI/AAAAAAAATHg/dRK078iVouA/s144/Blake.jpg" width="144" height="108" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: right;">From <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/azdawson/Videos?authkey=Gv1sRgCJrNz8L6suuIRA&feat=embedwebsite">Videos</a></td></tr></tbody></table>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-57423743569731597632011-01-21T09:04:00.018-07:002011-01-22T14:54:12.278-07:00Jumping into 2011<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FyIoe0TghmPC7i5iFE9emgNqeQ62wFq4bQwZ-rbny_YtIIfq3O749znxg5OkRAv7pi2Mo_h1Fv5hRBtV1-r87WcsJikyEA3Jg4D1QjOrfhuXN4mxWp6BzJ_-7BYZBJRLoLroAsgr_OA/s1600/IMG_0959.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FyIoe0TghmPC7i5iFE9emgNqeQ62wFq4bQwZ-rbny_YtIIfq3O749znxg5OkRAv7pi2Mo_h1Fv5hRBtV1-r87WcsJikyEA3Jg4D1QjOrfhuXN4mxWp6BzJ_-7BYZBJRLoLroAsgr_OA/s400/IMG_0959.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"> </div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">With the holidays over and done with, we're all sluggishly getting back into our day-to-day routine.</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">We had a great trip to Sacramento, spending a busy week with our families. We took Blake and Nick snowboarding while Brett and I opted to stay on skis. It was a snowy, overcast day. Other than cruising down the mountain and feeling like you can't see more than 10 feet in front of your face at times, it was a fun time. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Oh, and there was the fact that Brett got a crash course in the laws of chain requirements on our way home after a friendly CHP officer pulled us over and the two conversed on the matter. I know no matter how hard I tried, and even if I detailed here word for word, it would never convey the looks, tones, and the undercurrent of hilarity that ensued ... at least from my perspective :)<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivqAnQLM-CWeiKR-waICSWzP7Yuv4NG-UQAUQHh1bqw0Y-6qPW1z72vvJj0E8X1boBOwj9LH6LxNjvfrSa8K3Wcp3Er380DOmislQESYfYPBvgWhf8M4-bdXO8v2uFchU4F3pKHE04MKc/s1600/IMG_1630.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivqAnQLM-CWeiKR-waICSWzP7Yuv4NG-UQAUQHh1bqw0Y-6qPW1z72vvJj0E8X1boBOwj9LH6LxNjvfrSa8K3Wcp3Er380DOmislQESYfYPBvgWhf8M4-bdXO8v2uFchU4F3pKHE04MKc/s400/IMG_1630.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564702437527946418" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Blake and Nick (aka Mr. Blue Eyes, below) on the lift, getting ready to tear it up.</span></span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqOzjEiNY1GG3Fco-Y8uRXX1EUK0LLaCamQa4DpNnVYzfHjndcHomt0OSRZNCWQJbrAYLOmRQJu7SZvIfywK9yXpLVvUEAL-cTsdGg7kx3FRfu0EQxHZ4cv8e1FqwHaKcaj-9cjphWF-Y/s1600/IMG_1629.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqOzjEiNY1GG3Fco-Y8uRXX1EUK0LLaCamQa4DpNnVYzfHjndcHomt0OSRZNCWQJbrAYLOmRQJu7SZvIfywK9yXpLVvUEAL-cTsdGg7kx3FRfu0EQxHZ4cv8e1FqwHaKcaj-9cjphWF-Y/s400/IMG_1629.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565117705717082610" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6051qkXz997-nlr1cL2Pd7AStbVoPrjth0JwkxZmPOIiHAVc_FAbOUzXPidxM26MxKRdS3ApJD5O0lNwMSz4Kxq0Kq6L1ZbYpLPCzQken7I8ZfM-NmodIJPUDDUJsp3i8A5EWY0md2W8/s1600/IMG_0414.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6051qkXz997-nlr1cL2Pd7AStbVoPrjth0JwkxZmPOIiHAVc_FAbOUzXPidxM26MxKRdS3ApJD5O0lNwMSz4Kxq0Kq6L1ZbYpLPCzQken7I8ZfM-NmodIJPUDDUJsp3i8A5EWY0md2W8/s400/IMG_0414.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564702416118226066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Brett in the snow and slush chaining up the van.<br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Another treat: Brett and I got to see, live, in-person, the sheer Sacramento Kings and the fanatic that is my brother. He gave Brett and I a pair of seats about 10 rows up behind one of the posts while he scored himself at an amazing deal another pair of tickets in the second row courtside. After a phenomenal game in which Tyreke Evans nailed a half-court shot at the buzzer leading to the Kings' 8th or 9th victory of the season, we got to follow my brother into the bowels of Arco Arena as he stalked, I mean patiently waited, to greet players and get autographs.<br /><br />Somehow we ended up in the area where employees clock out. And I think we were among the last souls to leave Arco Arena that evening as my brother added the scrawls of Bobby Jackson, Jerry Reynolds, and some of the current players I don't keep track of anymore, to his collection. Even security staff was clocking out as the three of us waited while my brother consulted blueprints of the arena (OK, that last part is a joke ... the rest all true).</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlCzSIj_2nBZ4AV0vip0860E8uBV7JB9S2hRCYbU5Tjm_ZKpe19rJA6Sq45BwkszxDMIZeZoCiIXIGwJ9nlHTcn-qTuSLEVPmtGuxiyWKhD2tMmmNGznhcX6Z3XI8f2-GSMCwb6Kn4cw/s1600/IMG_7254.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlCzSIj_2nBZ4AV0vip0860E8uBV7JB9S2hRCYbU5Tjm_ZKpe19rJA6Sq45BwkszxDMIZeZoCiIXIGwJ9nlHTcn-qTuSLEVPmtGuxiyWKhD2tMmmNGznhcX6Z3XI8f2-GSMCwb6Kn4cw/s400/IMG_7254.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564700710323407266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Michele and Brett at the Kings game.</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">We also spent time with Brett's parents and my family. Wii, chess, Jenga, badminton, Lego-building, movie-watching, great meals, playing with dogs, wine-drinking, walks -- all standard fare on a visit home.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ISp3okKiAjoPqEwH0-rZ3Qe71poQntwPVH0_cWhQs_2t5Dr2zAh6u60MdYty7vHtvA8utTTznc9rXfNh2mDzrzzUuQ4HpgqLDNcDV9vW8sEieIMeRbTEaWJDgf8TSpbJ109aZpiiS3E/s1600/IMG_0480.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ISp3okKiAjoPqEwH0-rZ3Qe71poQntwPVH0_cWhQs_2t5Dr2zAh6u60MdYty7vHtvA8utTTznc9rXfNh2mDzrzzUuQ4HpgqLDNcDV9vW8sEieIMeRbTEaWJDgf8TSpbJ109aZpiiS3E/s400/IMG_0480.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564702425411882482" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The Dawson clan.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQve1VUI87PtiHsQa6ig-W-cHiwuW8J9qBnJpa3n2qbIsVulaefUJgs0l4_45qyCyiSUc2nqFWpvSOoJEa_7bYMiGHevG08v1CE2d530A9l7VZUMio31QQQFywNgeX2ALBguZC4Z9mLrE/s1600/IMG_0389.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQve1VUI87PtiHsQa6ig-W-cHiwuW8J9qBnJpa3n2qbIsVulaefUJgs0l4_45qyCyiSUc2nqFWpvSOoJEa_7bYMiGHevG08v1CE2d530A9l7VZUMio31QQQFywNgeX2ALBguZC4Z9mLrE/s400/IMG_0389.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565127871156470898" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">The Mariner/Thomas crew<br /></span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" ></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">And then when we got back home, attentions turned to the new trampoline, a daily diversion for all four kids. Blake's mastering his back flip, Zach and Allie love a good game of "Dead Mummy," and every time Nick enters the ring, he tries to turn it into a wrestling match.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8GLN8BDFrxJNfkPrfg-dwe43N2rNnWn2Kkjn0POL4n8Apl0rUv-p5169AzzbP0bXj5pGovdjs84bHwgRkGZqg8pvHFRtNXtiG4V_bzgf-cdporPmLjI3ngScgPjmk_u-QbwFvfRIVY4Y/s1600/IMG_0946.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8GLN8BDFrxJNfkPrfg-dwe43N2rNnWn2Kkjn0POL4n8Apl0rUv-p5169AzzbP0bXj5pGovdjs84bHwgRkGZqg8pvHFRtNXtiG4V_bzgf-cdporPmLjI3ngScgPjmk_u-QbwFvfRIVY4Y/s400/IMG_0946.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHqTktcOVTvR7iw_bKe0APf7PqJSmIopLfm1eRzEoeYkkeVv0EXJQCG_4KJSnkBpa-snrZ-GxAvkY-uPvYIQ7PUoooLmjk02YB4LDKPNyFsnYWqYvavTjHrP1y_QmnO-uPIiG8RhxAHU/s1600/IMG_0967.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHqTktcOVTvR7iw_bKe0APf7PqJSmIopLfm1eRzEoeYkkeVv0EXJQCG_4KJSnkBpa-snrZ-GxAvkY-uPvYIQ7PUoooLmjk02YB4LDKPNyFsnYWqYvavTjHrP1y_QmnO-uPIiG8RhxAHU/s400/IMG_0967.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The kids can't wait for the grandparents' next visit, so they can all give it a try. ;)<br /></div></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-16344642806501494512010-12-22T14:21:00.001-07:002010-12-22T14:21:51.491-07:00Dawson Christmas card<div class="sflyProductPreviewWidget" style="width:425px; height:494px;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetTop" style="height:6px; background-image:url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/top.gif);"></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetCenter" style="height:482px; padding: 0 6px 0 6px; background-image:url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/bg.gif); background-repeat:repeat-y;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewLogo" style="width: 105px; height: 34px; padding: 14px 0 0 14px;"><img src="http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/logo.gif"></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewContainer" style="height:350px; text-align:center; padding: 0;"><a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery"><img src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/prs/v1/0AbtGrZk5ZtmIg/0AbtGrZk5ZtmIuwg/p/67b0de21b3127d902548/JPEG/1293052722000/0/"></a></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewMessageContainer" style="height:55px; background-color:#f4f4e9; text-align:center; padding: 15px 0 15px 0; line-height: 19px;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewTitle" style="font-family: arial, sans-seris; font-size: 15px; color: #333333; font-weight: bold;"><span>Very Merry Tree Christmas</span></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewSEOText" style="font-family: arial, sans-seris; font-size: 13px; color: #333333;"><span>Shutterfly has classic, elegant <a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery/christmas-invitations" style="color: #6666cc;">Christmas invitations</a> for your party.</span></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewViewCollection" style="font-family: arial, sans-seris; font-size: 13px; color: #333333;"><span>View the entire <a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery" style="color: #6666cc;">collection</a> of cards.</span></div><img width="1" height="1" border="0" src="https://os.shutterfly.com/b/ss/sflyshareprod/1/H.15/111?pageName=sharekey&c1=msc&c2=blogger" /></div></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetBottom" style="height:6px; background-image:url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/bottom.gif);"></div></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-66968760790558816922010-12-17T11:32:00.006-07:002010-12-18T19:49:55.851-07:00Nick's First Concert<div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufYeCYsIv1smMmGp_RjOKSX0XtdwlW6OkTEqqGjdIJH7Fpy4LGiAFF5p_DBfvhjctyC8XkkNsOG-HxikpmtNLYHjQJTZfN0mnxEUPlnRlwp_oyey5Czv_Sv5uJ_BnhwpTPqVvNP6ne1w/s1600/IMG_2749.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufYeCYsIv1smMmGp_RjOKSX0XtdwlW6OkTEqqGjdIJH7Fpy4LGiAFF5p_DBfvhjctyC8XkkNsOG-HxikpmtNLYHjQJTZfN0mnxEUPlnRlwp_oyey5Czv_Sv5uJ_BnhwpTPqVvNP6ne1w/s400/IMG_2749.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nick started playing clarinet in the 5th grade beginning band this year. And he and his bandmates recently performed a few holiday numbers in what was their first concert.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nick got all dressed up in his long-sleeved, button-down shirt and non-jeans pants and was all business as he played his holiday carols.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">He says he's enjoying the clarinet, but wants to try the saxophone next year ... even if it is bigger and heavier and more of a chore getting it to and from school.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonK_IdfeUReCo_8x9P2tgMBhxOmVtTIqoCv21KZCVyY9Zq_ZQuIKPydvI9JulC1jwaeNvQl0Qegras0loNmS7O2_rmKAXKRW0dSNxePCh9J7NW85tRUBuiA70XRvr5vdpsh2H58OyeAs/s1600/IMG_2752.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonK_IdfeUReCo_8x9P2tgMBhxOmVtTIqoCv21KZCVyY9Zq_ZQuIKPydvI9JulC1jwaeNvQl0Qegras0loNmS7O2_rmKAXKRW0dSNxePCh9J7NW85tRUBuiA70XRvr5vdpsh2H58OyeAs/s400/IMG_2752.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm glad to see him trying something new; I didn't even have to prompt him, he had already decided he wanted to take up a band instrument before he even asked back when school started in August.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"> </div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I love his enthusiasm and the performance was so sweet. But one thing's for sure: they don't call it beginner band for nothin'.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"> </div><br /><div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTAMZEzu0mIzhynpaGuo10a-snnWy_uc1t_ECm17QBw5l8jvnl9ub_XEX0lIGx20kQXfQYoA7NIsLRPuH3rD5b54JXdKgHFC5smpGssztsy25NP3kf99-R8_R9tC_oJKsaBQm-OBqULM/s1600/IMG_2754.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTAMZEzu0mIzhynpaGuo10a-snnWy_uc1t_ECm17QBw5l8jvnl9ub_XEX0lIGx20kQXfQYoA7NIsLRPuH3rD5b54JXdKgHFC5smpGssztsy25NP3kf99-R8_R9tC_oJKsaBQm-OBqULM/s400/IMG_2754.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none; padding: 0px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608023266028137097.post-12993854722383407242010-12-08T22:39:00.003-07:002010-12-09T10:35:50.470-07:00Oh, Christmas Tree!<div style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1jArOUmuZWdxrwoIQFBstaOvpTPa0vPYRWZ47pWemDU69pNehZwosJfKXOoiByzrI5E6zYLshBO6He9XDHQcgr8nLj5IDYP65Xzo3wXnhSQVVcfmhjaFNgK2I_DzPVa72foyZPkV2r4/s1600/photo.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1jArOUmuZWdxrwoIQFBstaOvpTPa0vPYRWZ47pWemDU69pNehZwosJfKXOoiByzrI5E6zYLshBO6He9XDHQcgr8nLj5IDYP65Xzo3wXnhSQVVcfmhjaFNgK2I_DzPVa72foyZPkV2r4/s400/photo.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Hard to believe it's already the holiday season. Living in Phoenix where much of December is sunny and in the 70s (minus the cold wave that hit us for a few days last week), it's sometimes hard to get in the holiday spirit. You close your shutters, turn on the Christmas music and light up your cinnamon-scented candle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">One of my favorite traditions when we lived in California was heading up to Apple Hill Thanksgiving weekend, going out to breakfast and then chopping down our Christmas tree at one of the many tree farms that pepper the foothills. The kids would take turns (OK, fight over) holding the saw, look forward to the candy canes the farm owners handed out at the end, and Brett would strategically rope the tree down on top of the minivan, frequently looking in his rearview mirror and driving slower than normal on the ride home.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">We quickly learned that this experience doesn't exist in Arizona. So for our first few Christmases here, we slipped on our flipflops and headed to the lot at the grocery store and paid nearly $100 for a fresh tree.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I've always been adamantly opposed to a fake tree, but living here slowly but surely changed my view.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Last year I saw some amazingly real-looking trees at Costco. When we finally decided to go ahead and get one, they were gone. So this year, when they appeared around Halloween time, we grabbed one. Along with it I got my pine-scented wall plug-in from Bath and Body Works, which is much stronger than a real tree could ever hope to be.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And, in the end, with it's lights and ornaments, our fake tree doesn't look too bad.</span><br /></div>Michele Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09727097317003965413noreply@blogger.com0