<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737</id><updated>2011-10-03T13:00:41.045-05:00</updated><category term='rants'/><category term='book reviews'/><category term='family life'/><category term='those crazy kids'/><category term='blast from the past'/><category term='Recipes'/><category term='just between moms'/><title type='text'>I Have No Life!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-997837090588422757</id><published>2010-08-22T07:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T07:46:13.891-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer News</title><content type='html'>Well, it's been a while again.&amp;nbsp; Not that I haven't had anything to write about, I've just had a serious case of writer's block.&amp;nbsp; I was thinking today that summer went by awfully fast, and I didn't do nearly as many things as I'd wanted, but then I thought back over the past few months and it's been much more eventful than I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Vacation to Texas&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove down to Dallas for almost a week&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;in June to visit our friends Mike and Jodi (and their two daughters.)&amp;nbsp; The kids were wonderful on the long drive and we had so much fun with the Parkers.&amp;nbsp; We took the kids to a waterpark, got some shopping in, and even had a girl's night complete with mani/pedis and Starbuck's.&amp;nbsp; (If you know me, that last one was a big treat.&amp;nbsp; I very rarely get a night of pampering and talking away from the kids.)&amp;nbsp; We spent Saturday driving three hours to a "Creation Museum".&amp;nbsp; I put that in quotes, because all I did upon arrival was laugh, but Jodi was so ticked she did NOT see the humor.&amp;nbsp; It basically consisted of folding tables around a single room with pictures of fossils, replicas of the dead sea scrolls, and a guy making an hour long presentation/ slideshow.&amp;nbsp; (We left 10 minutes into it.)&amp;nbsp; Oh and the big event of the day: the grand opening of the elevator.&amp;nbsp; They made a BIG deal of this, which I found even more hilarious.&amp;nbsp; After we tried to slip out the door inconspicuously, we found out that Mike had been playing atheist to the poor guy manning the fossil folding table (we wondered why they were so deep in discussion.)&amp;nbsp; Add that to me laughing at everything and Jodi's hacked off expression, and I'm sure they're still holding prayer meetings for us!&amp;nbsp; Poor Jodi kept trying to tell us what a great website they had, but we still let her know she owes us three hours of our lives back.&amp;nbsp; From there, we went to visit the historical Dallas stockyards and ate some barbecue, so the day wasn't a total loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fourth of July&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the night before the fourth at our friends Paul and Rachel's house in the country eating too much and setting off fireworks.&amp;nbsp; Weather-wise, it was the coolest Fourth of July I can remember- we all had to put jackets on!&amp;nbsp; The kids had a great time, even when one rocket went haywire and went off inches over where they were sitting on a blanket with their grandmas and "Aunt" Jessie.&amp;nbsp; They were all fine, but Glenna talked about that for weeks.&amp;nbsp; It rained on the actual fourth and the Ottawa fireworks show was postponed a night.&amp;nbsp; The only real downside to the weekend was that my brother Seth was unable to make it.&amp;nbsp; He started out driving from Colorado Springs early on the 3rd, only to have to turn back when his car kept overheating.&amp;nbsp; Since we went to Texas instead of Colorado this year for vacation, we haven't seen as much of him as we'd like.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Levi's First Birthday&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Levi turned one on July 27th.&amp;nbsp; I really can't believe how this year has flown by and how much he has grown and changed.&amp;nbsp; I'm not ready for him to stop being my baby!&amp;nbsp; He is a very good-natured little guy&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;and he adores his big sister.&amp;nbsp; He started walking around the first of July.&amp;nbsp; I love watching him wrestle and play with Glenna.&amp;nbsp; Those are the great parts of having siblings so close in age.&amp;nbsp; His birthday was quiet, with just us, the grandparents, the aunts and uncles living close by, and cousin Lizzy.&amp;nbsp; I made his birthday cake- a train with an engine, three cars, and a caboose.&amp;nbsp; I was really worried about wrecking his cake, as I am NOT a cake decorator, but it turned out fine, and he thoroughly enjoyed demolishing the caboose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Anniversary Celebrations&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both my parents and Justin's celebrated their 40th wedding anniversaries this month.&amp;nbsp; They were married exactly one week apart.&amp;nbsp; My parents were given their gift last year, so the actual anniversary was pretty low key.&amp;nbsp; My brothers&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;and I went in together and gave them money for an Alaskan cruise they have always wanted to go on, but for one reason or another kept putting off.&amp;nbsp; Ironically, they are putting it off again, but with good reason.&amp;nbsp; Demolition starts this week as they prepare to put the addition onto their house that they've always wanted and remodel the entire interior.&amp;nbsp; For Justin's parents' anniversary, we all went to his aunt's house at Lake of the Ozarks for the weekend.&amp;nbsp; We set the whole thing up as a surprise to them.&amp;nbsp; His aunt has a nice house with a guestroom (when his parents stayed.)&amp;nbsp; She built an addition onto it a few years back when his grandparents sold their house and moved in (they have since passed away.)&amp;nbsp; It's a separate house attached by a deck and garage (where we stayed.)&amp;nbsp; In the basement, only accessible through an outside entrance, was his grandpa's shop complete with bedroom and bathroom (where his brother and family stayed.)&amp;nbsp; It was wonderful, as we all had our space, but we were together too.&amp;nbsp; We had the luxury of putting the kids to bed, going across the deck with the monitor, and staying up as late as we pleased playing games and talking without disturbing them.&amp;nbsp; We went to an indoor waterpark, Miner Mike's (kinda like Powerplay for younger kids), and ate a nice dinner out together.&amp;nbsp; It was a wonderful weekend, and I think his parents were really surprised and pleased with the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's my summer in a nutshell.&amp;nbsp; I've gone to the pool almost every week with the kids, but haven't been to the park or playground nearly as much as I'd like due to the awful heat.&amp;nbsp; I'm more than ready for fall and spending more time outside.&amp;nbsp; It'll be here before we know it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-997837090588422757?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/997837090588422757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=997837090588422757&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/997837090588422757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/997837090588422757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2010/08/summer-news.html' title='Summer News'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-5262559484945448622</id><published>2010-04-01T07:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T14:27:19.787-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blast from the past'/><title type='text'>Humiliation... Revisited</title><content type='html'>I had an interesting experience this week.&amp;nbsp; I teach the Cubbie's class at our church's AWANAS program (4-5 year-olds).&amp;nbsp; It's your typical small town church group: 5-10 kids, almost all from families I've known for years.&amp;nbsp; This year we had a new family.&amp;nbsp; Their daughter is in my class and since they live way out in the country, her parents stay through the club meetings instead of just dropping the kids off like most parents do.&amp;nbsp; Usually her mom stays in our class, but a couple of times this year her dad has attended.&amp;nbsp; The times he was there, I had the nagging feeling that he looked familiar, but this is a relatively small town, so it's certainly possible that we'd met before.&amp;nbsp; Then he told me his name.&amp;nbsp; It sounded familiar... really familiar, but I just couldn't place it.&amp;nbsp; Finally, he mentioned in passing that he is an EMT... and it all clicked into place.&amp;nbsp; I mulled it over for a while, and finally got up the nerve to ask him (and face the inevitable humiliation that would follow.)&amp;nbsp; If I was right, we certainly had met before, and I was pretty sure he would remember ME.&amp;nbsp; Well about the time I got up the courage to ask him, they stopped coming.&amp;nbsp; For a month.&amp;nbsp; Dignity aside, I was really hoping they would come back because I just had to know if I was right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well last night they returned.&amp;nbsp; I swallowed my pride, took the plunge, and asked him, "Did you ever work at L-Bar-C Camp?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked startled.&amp;nbsp; "Yes... a looong time ago." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I reminded him of our last meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That was YOU?!&amp;nbsp; HAHAHAHA!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, yes.&amp;nbsp; He remembered me alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flash back 15 years.&amp;nbsp; I was a teenager working at camp- my favorite place to be in the world.&amp;nbsp; I was working in the kitchen that summer and my older brother was the horse wrangler who (much to my bewilderment) made all the girls' hearts go pitter pat.&amp;nbsp; Sometime in the middle of the summer, our regular camp EMT was called away on duty with the military and we had a temporary replacement brought in.&amp;nbsp; I thought he was kinda cute and much to my delight, he approached me while I was cleaning up after lunch one day.&amp;nbsp; He said that he had to complete a safety checklist of the equipment since he was new, and since much of the equipment is meant to be put on another person, he needed an assistant.&amp;nbsp; Would I be free for about an hour that afternoon and willing to help him out?&amp;nbsp; I was surprised (and quite flattered) that he had picked me of all people to help with this task, and eagerly agreed to help.&amp;nbsp; We arranged a time to meet at the EMT's office. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chatted up a storm with Mr. Cute EMT that afternoon while he fitted me with blood pressure cuffs, neck braces, and other miscellaneous nonsense.&amp;nbsp; Finally, he said that he had just one more piece of equipment to try out, if I didn't mind.&amp;nbsp; It was the backboard.&amp;nbsp; Happy to assist, I hopped right on.&amp;nbsp; He was tightening the last straps around my ankles (and I was marveling at how totally stationary the backboard renders the patient) when I made the *witty* comment that if my brother came in right now, I'd think this whole thing was a setup.&amp;nbsp; That statement must have been my brother's cue, because at that moment, the door burst open and in trotted my brother and three buddies.&amp;nbsp; (My brain has permanently blocked the identity of his cohorts.)&amp;nbsp; They picked me up, my mind desperately trying to process this alarming development, and trucked me out to the chapel lobby.&amp;nbsp; The sight of a screaming girl on a backboard attracted a crowd in no time at all, and they obligingly put on a little show.&amp;nbsp; Their favorite trick was to stand me up, give me a nudge, and catch me about two inches before I would have hit the ground.&amp;nbsp; They threw in a little variety of doing this frontwards and backwards, along with some spinning around.&amp;nbsp; I don't remember all their tricks because I was desperately trying to maintain bladder control on those drops.&amp;nbsp; Thankfully, when the permanent markers appeared, and Reuben made like he was going to give me a nice mustache and beard, Ray (the camp director) stepped in and made them unstrap me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no more memories of that (formerly) cute EMT.&amp;nbsp; I certainly never thought I'd run into him 15 years later and get to relive the whole lovely experience.&amp;nbsp; My most vivid memory of him that day was repeated glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye while I was being tortured by my brother.&amp;nbsp; He was laughing... and mouthing "I'm sorry" over and over again.&amp;nbsp; Jerk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-5262559484945448622?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/5262559484945448622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=5262559484945448622&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/5262559484945448622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/5262559484945448622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2010/04/humiliation-revisited.html' title='Humiliation... Revisited'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-8863547443933968048</id><published>2010-01-21T21:53:00.077-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T12:01:42.074-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family life'/><title type='text'>Christmas and Stuff</title><content type='html'>It's been forever since I blogged, and really I have no excuse.&amp;nbsp; I have been cooped up in the house since Christmas due to the weather so it's not like I've been too busy.&amp;nbsp; So much to talk about...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Christmas&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had warnings all week leading up to Christmas that we were in for a doozy of a blizzard.&amp;nbsp; And sure enough, Christmas Eve ushered in quite the storm.&amp;nbsp; I spent Christmas Eve doing last minute shopping in the rain, sleet, and snow (in that order.)&amp;nbsp; It was a terrible storm, and the last place I wanted to be was dragging a toddler and a baby around department stores.&amp;nbsp; But... it couldn't be avoided.&amp;nbsp; I won't go into the specifics of that trip since most of you have already read about it on facebook- and those who didn't could probably hear me screaming from three states away.&amp;nbsp; I survived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas Day we got up early and packed the kids in the car to go to Tonganoxie and celebrate with Justin's folks.&amp;nbsp; They had all but called off the gathering, figuring we would never be crazy enough to make the drive (everyone else in the family is local.)&amp;nbsp; Well they underestimated our level of crazy!&amp;nbsp; The normal one hour drive took two each way (once again saved by the DVD player.)&amp;nbsp; We only tried it (and made it safely) because we were on highways and main roads the whole way.&amp;nbsp; I tried to get Glenna out in her snow pants and boots for her first experience playing in the snow, but she refused to keep her mittens on and was miserable pretty quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1khOq1ODqI/AAAAAAAAAFU/K4-128BGuR4/s1600-h/IMG_1529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1khOq1ODqI/AAAAAAAAAFU/K4-128BGuR4/s320/IMG_1529.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it home Christmas night in time for Caleb and Jenny to arrive at our house instead of my parents' as planned.&amp;nbsp; My other two brothers had made it out there... barely.&amp;nbsp; (My dad had to tow one behind his truck the last mile.)&amp;nbsp; They weren't going anywhere anytime soon and we weren't getting to them either.&amp;nbsp; Our family celebration scheduled for the day after Christmas got pushed back more and more until we were finally able to make it out by riding in Caleb's 4x4 three days later.&amp;nbsp; A pain for sure, but it made for some beautiful scenery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1kjXevooPI/AAAAAAAAAFc/nQ7_Ami1kFs/s1600-h/IMG_1563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1kjXevooPI/AAAAAAAAAFc/nQ7_Ami1kFs/s320/IMG_1563.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1kjvXuaoRI/AAAAAAAAAFk/H5MNRaBADcc/s1600-h/IMG_1567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1kjvXuaoRI/AAAAAAAAAFk/H5MNRaBADcc/s320/IMG_1567.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1kkE3YV_tI/AAAAAAAAAFs/JD1PrWBuLPU/s1600-h/IMG_1585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1kkE3YV_tI/AAAAAAAAAFs/JD1PrWBuLPU/s320/IMG_1585.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Oreo &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the last thing to update about is the death of my beloved kitty, Oreo.&amp;nbsp; Justin came running upstairs the morning of January 5th practically hyperventilating because he had found her dead.&amp;nbsp; I was shocked and not surprised at the same time, if that makes sense.&amp;nbsp; Shocked, because she has been with me since I was 13 and I can't imagine life without her.&amp;nbsp; Not surprised, because she would have turned 17 soon and she had been sleeping all the time and losing weight lately.&amp;nbsp; My next odd combination of emotions was deep sadness and great relief at the same time.&amp;nbsp; My biggest fear for her was being forced to make a decision to put her to sleep someday.&amp;nbsp; I desperately did not want to go through something like that with my best little furry friend.&amp;nbsp; I prayed for years that she would drift off peacefully in her sleep with no pain or sickness and that's exactly what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saying goodbye was very painful.&amp;nbsp; She has been with me through the difficult teenage years, the many changes of young adulthood, the transition to married life, and becoming a mother.&amp;nbsp; Through it all, she has been a constant in my life.&amp;nbsp; I can't count the times I laid my head on her side and cried or just talked while she purred.&amp;nbsp; We could communicate on a level only achieved by lifelong friendship.&amp;nbsp; I could tell Justin by her meow whether she was hungry, thirsty, playing with a toy, wanting to be petted, being picked on by Scooter, or needing a door opened for her.&amp;nbsp; And I was right every time.&amp;nbsp; He never could believe how we did it.&amp;nbsp; I met her for the first time when she was just over a week old and her eyes had just opened.&amp;nbsp; (She was a gift from my parents for my 13th birthday.)&amp;nbsp; We were only apart for a year in college when she drove my parents nuts by crying at the front door for me all day or refusing to leave my room.&amp;nbsp; It is unlikely that I will ever share that deep of a friendship with a cat again, but I truly hope I do.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1ksdOdAK3I/AAAAAAAAAF0/Rt7LoiZWgAk/s1600-h/553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1ksdOdAK3I/AAAAAAAAAF0/Rt7LoiZWgAk/s320/553.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-8863547443933968048?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/8863547443933968048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=8863547443933968048&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/8863547443933968048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/8863547443933968048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-been-forever-since-i-blogged-and.html' title='Christmas and Stuff'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/S1khOq1ODqI/AAAAAAAAAFU/K4-128BGuR4/s72-c/IMG_1529.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-4918380193096589289</id><published>2009-12-18T22:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T23:03:22.521-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recipes'/><title type='text'>The Perfect Cheesecake</title><content type='html'>I spent today making &lt;a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/White-Chocolate-Candy-Cane-Cheesecake/Detail.aspx"&gt;White Chocolate Candy Cane Cheesecake&lt;/a&gt; for a Christmas gathering tomorrow.&amp;nbsp; I can't wait to try it!&amp;nbsp; It looks and smells sooo good.&amp;nbsp; I am a &lt;i&gt;big&lt;/i&gt; fan of cheesecake; in fact I am so much a fan that I am the proud owner of the Philadelphia Cream Cheese Cookbook!&amp;nbsp; Until recently, however, my cheesecake-making attempts had been highly frustrating.&amp;nbsp; Last Christmas, I had a little consultation with my brother-in-law (i.e. the Cheesecake King) to find out how his cheesecakes always come out perfect.&amp;nbsp; He was gracious enough to pass along the secrets he managed to drag out of a professional baker (who didn't speak very much English, so he &lt;i&gt;earned&lt;/i&gt; these tips!)&amp;nbsp; I thought I'd pass along these bits of wisdom, since I am finally back to making my beloved dessert without fear of the grand canyon running through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If you want your cheesecake to look like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Syv9IZvGc1I/AAAAAAAAAE8/AUyXEdBN638/s1600-h/2757-newyork_200x200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Syv9IZvGc1I/AAAAAAAAAE8/AUyXEdBN638/s200/2757-newyork_200x200.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Instead of like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Syv9LSavNsI/AAAAAAAAAFE/e5A7Nn0Rjn0/s1600-h/cracked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Syv9LSavNsI/AAAAAAAAAFE/e5A7Nn0Rjn0/s200/cracked.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Here's what you do:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mix your cheesecake on the lowest speed possible and for the shortest time necessary.&amp;nbsp; Mixing too fast adds air and can cause it to collapse.&amp;nbsp; For most recipes, you need to add the eggs last, one at a time, and mix minimally after each one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It has been recommended to place a water bath on a rack under the cheesecake.&amp;nbsp; I'll confess I usually skip this and it turns out fine without it, but if you follow all the steps and still have problems you can do this by putting a little water in a shallow pan and placing it on a rack lower than the cheesecake during baking.&amp;nbsp; Moisture helps prevent cracking as well.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO NOT PEEK at your cheesecake!&amp;nbsp; Place the rack it's on low enough that you can see it without opening the oven, and once it's in there, do NOT open that door!&amp;nbsp; A burst of cold air will crack it every time.&amp;nbsp; (Believe it or not, kids running through the house can too!&amp;nbsp; You might want to tell them to step lightly during cheesecake-baking time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Starting 5 minutes before the end of the recommended baking time, start checking your cheesecake using the "hip bump" method.&amp;nbsp; When you gently bump your oven, a 2-3" diameter section in the middle should still jiggle a bit.&amp;nbsp; It will look like it has a slightly indented center.&amp;nbsp; Don't worry, if you follow the rest of the tips, it'll look fine when you're done.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When the wobbly center is a couple of inches across, turn off the oven.&amp;nbsp; DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR!&amp;nbsp; Let it sit in your closed oven for an hour.&amp;nbsp; You will notice that the center raises up and loses it's wiggle during this time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;After an hour, open your oven door just a crack.&amp;nbsp; Leave it in the cracked oven for another hour.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Open your door further for one final hour of gradual cooling in the oven before removing the cheesecake.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finally, let your cheesecake cool completely at room temperature.&amp;nbsp; Do not cover it with plastic wrap while it is still warm as water droplets will accumulate and drip on it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When your cheesecake is completely cool, you can refrigerate it if need be until ready to serve.&amp;nbsp; Run a knife dipped in water around the edges gently before removing the spring form pan.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Just to prove the tips work, here is a picture of my cheesecake.&amp;nbsp; (I haven't removed it from the pan or added the topping, and won't until tomorrow when I serve it.)&amp;nbsp; Hope it tastes as good as it looks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SyxXBoXOFjI/AAAAAAAAAFM/oSR5IWKoCE0/s1600-h/IMG_1476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SyxXBoXOFjI/AAAAAAAAAFM/oSR5IWKoCE0/s320/IMG_1476.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.&amp;nbsp; If you decide to make the recipe above, replace the graham cracker crumbs with Oreos for a chocolate crust.&amp;nbsp; (Much better in my opinion.)&amp;nbsp; Also, candy cane crushing is a bit trickier than it sounds.&amp;nbsp; Use the mini ones in the plastic sleeves and break them with a hammer before taking them out of the wrapper to prevent a mess in your kitchen.&amp;nbsp; A few &lt;b&gt;gentle&lt;/b&gt; taps is all it takes to have pieces of candy cane (vs. candy cane powder.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-4918380193096589289?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/4918380193096589289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=4918380193096589289&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/4918380193096589289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/4918380193096589289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/12/perfect-cheesecake.html' title='The Perfect Cheesecake'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Syv9IZvGc1I/AAAAAAAAAE8/AUyXEdBN638/s72-c/2757-newyork_200x200.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-2055071031897641205</id><published>2009-12-03T11:34:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T12:03:04.416-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book reviews'/><title type='text'>Book Review: Deadline (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Sxf1-yoMgYI/AAAAAAAAAE0/xqZAHp6hg4w/s1600-h/9781590525920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Sxf1-yoMgYI/AAAAAAAAAE0/xqZAHp6hg4w/s200/9781590525920.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally finished reading &lt;i&gt;Deadline&lt;/i&gt; this week.&amp;nbsp; It's unusual for me to take so long to read a new book, but I got bogged down in the middle of it for quite awhile.&amp;nbsp; Randy Alcorn likes his soapboxes, and while I agree with the stance he takes on issues, I wish he would pick a soapbox and stay with it for the whole book!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The list of controversial subjects he addresses includes abortion, sex education in public schools, liberal media bias, doctor assisted suicide, medical decisions concerning quality of life, and Down's syndrome children (among others.)&amp;nbsp; Reading this book was mentally exhausting at times.&amp;nbsp; I thoroughly enjoy a fiction book that takes a current controversial topic and uses a story to illustrate a point of view.&amp;nbsp; For example, Francine River's &lt;i&gt;The Atonement Child&lt;/i&gt; is an excellent book that takes on the abortion argument.&amp;nbsp; What Francine Rivers has discovered (and Randy Alcorn needs to learn,) is that people listen to you better when you teach in parables (as Jesus did.)&amp;nbsp; &lt;i&gt;The Atonement Child &lt;/i&gt;is all about abortion and the way it affects individual lives.&amp;nbsp; Different characters in the book have different life experiences all illustrating the destructive results such a choice can have.&amp;nbsp; The many angles shown in the book include abortion for medical reasons, abortion following a rape, the effects on the father, the effects on women physically as well as psychologically, long-term effects on a marriage, etc.&amp;nbsp; Many angles, yes, but one central focus: the destructiveness of abortion.&amp;nbsp; And all lived out through the fictional character's lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;i&gt;Deadline&lt;/i&gt;, on the other hand, Alcorn jumped around so much that he never finished making a point on many of the topics he brought up.&amp;nbsp; And instead of illustrating his point of view through the &lt;i&gt;experiences&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;of his characters, he asserts his opinion in the &lt;i&gt;conversations&lt;/i&gt; his characters have.&amp;nbsp; A key difference that makes the book read more like nonfiction than fiction in parts.&amp;nbsp; This is also where the reader gets bogged down.&amp;nbsp; One particular conversation filled &lt;i&gt;nine pages&lt;/i&gt;.&amp;nbsp; Again, I agree with what he said, but I read fiction more than nonfiction for a reason- I like learning through illustrations. &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The book did address the plight of Doc (the nonbeliever)- briefly.&amp;nbsp; Alcorn's ideas about hell could start as much discussion as his ideas about heaven.&amp;nbsp; In the last chapters, the story line picked up again, and the "whodunit" aspect became exciting at the end.&amp;nbsp; In my opinion, the central story of Jake trying to find his friends' killer needed to tie together throughout the story more, and Alcorn needed to save a few controversies for another book.&amp;nbsp; I'll be interested to see his future work on this series.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-2055071031897641205?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/2055071031897641205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=2055071031897641205&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/2055071031897641205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/2055071031897641205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/12/deadline-review-part-2.html' title='Book Review: Deadline (Part 2)'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Sxf1-yoMgYI/AAAAAAAAAE0/xqZAHp6hg4w/s72-c/9781590525920.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-9178269808751963294</id><published>2009-11-28T02:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T02:06:42.213-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family life'/><title type='text'>Christmas Tree is Up!!!</title><content type='html'>Finally, after more than 8 hours of work, the tree is fully lit, decorated, and looking beautiful.&amp;nbsp; I promised pictures, so here they are!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDUvwsQN0I/AAAAAAAAADs/abFRftkhdSI/s1600/IMG_1295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDUvwsQN0I/AAAAAAAAADs/abFRftkhdSI/s400/IMG_1295.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;The infamous tree.&amp;nbsp; I'm a little partial to white, crystal, and silver.&amp;nbsp; I'm especially intrigued by icicle ornaments and I'm starting to get quite a collection.&amp;nbsp; I have at least 3 dozen glass and crystal icicles.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDVgn9TxYI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Bn3fcjS4tHQ/s1600/IMG_1312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDVgn9TxYI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Bn3fcjS4tHQ/s200/IMG_1312.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDVEQYoetI/AAAAAAAAAD0/j0AfJSpC510/s1600/IMG_1311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDVEQYoetI/AAAAAAAAAD0/j0AfJSpC510/s200/IMG_1311.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stocking holders and the wreath I made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My attempts at artistic photography.&amp;nbsp; From a distance, you lose the beauty of the details and individual ornaments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDWEE2x8II/AAAAAAAAAEE/gj2qV4vjKkQ/s1600/IMG_1297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDWEE2x8II/AAAAAAAAAEE/gj2qV4vjKkQ/s320/IMG_1297.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDWR2xWW6I/AAAAAAAAAEM/k7JLpIm5RrU/s1600/IMG_1298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDWR2xWW6I/AAAAAAAAAEM/k7JLpIm5RrU/s320/IMG_1298.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDWpkIBsiI/AAAAAAAAAEc/yw8XTf915CE/s1600/IMG_1302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDWpkIBsiI/AAAAAAAAAEc/yw8XTf915CE/s320/IMG_1302.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDW7pnxrvI/AAAAAAAAAEk/XEhtnXtzHMI/s1600/IMG_1304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDW7pnxrvI/AAAAAAAAAEk/XEhtnXtzHMI/s320/IMG_1304.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDXNJw7bTI/AAAAAAAAAEs/_qjIVYj9U10/s1600/IMG_1305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDXNJw7bTI/AAAAAAAAAEs/_qjIVYj9U10/s320/IMG_1305.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;So pretty.&amp;nbsp; Decorating is so fun.&amp;nbsp; As an adult, I think I may enjoy decorating the tree as much as I did as a child.&amp;nbsp; Now if only I could find someone else to put the tree up, wrestle with the lights, take down the decorations, and put the tree away for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-9178269808751963294?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/9178269808751963294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=9178269808751963294&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/9178269808751963294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/9178269808751963294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-tree-is-up.html' title='Christmas Tree is Up!!!'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SxDUvwsQN0I/AAAAAAAAADs/abFRftkhdSI/s72-c/IMG_1295.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-5595958010745652729</id><published>2009-11-23T10:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T10:45:02.625-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family life'/><title type='text'>Holiday Preparations</title><content type='html'>I thought I'd be on top of things for once and put my Christmas tree up this past weekend since next weekend will be full of family activities for Thanksgiving.&amp;nbsp; I was very excited about this.&amp;nbsp; We didn't put a tree up last year because Glenna was right at that age where it would have been a month-long battle to keep her away from it.&amp;nbsp; Well she's a year older, we have a new house, and nothing was stopping me this year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know me very well, you know that I am a very timid decorator.&amp;nbsp; Usually I rely on my mom (who has done interior decorating professionally) to help me with even the simplest decorating project.&amp;nbsp; The one area where I may have inherited a few of her genes is Christmas.&amp;nbsp; I've made my own wreath, come up with a theme for my tree, and have been buying ornaments for years.&amp;nbsp; I'm not going to tell you my theme- I'll show you when the tree is decorated... and it still isn't... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I logged four hours of work on the tree Saturday and another two Sunday with the result being a &lt;i&gt;mostly&lt;/i&gt; lit tree Monday.&amp;nbsp; Normally dragging the three-part seven-foot-tall tree upstairs, assembling it, and "re-fluffing" the branches is a good two hours of scratchy work.&amp;nbsp; This year, however, there were sections all over the tree that wouldn't light up.&amp;nbsp; It's the kind of tree that is supposed to still light with lights burned out, so I decided to replace the fuses in the strands that were not lit.&amp;nbsp; Finding the plugs and replacing the fuses took a good hour filled with muttered cursing.&amp;nbsp; Finally, they were all replaced.&amp;nbsp; I plugged in the tree and presto!&amp;nbsp; Nothing changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had three options left at this point.&amp;nbsp; 1) String more lights on the sections of the tree that weren't lit.&amp;nbsp; That seemed a little silly, and wouldn't be a long-term solution.&amp;nbsp; 2) Replace the tree.&amp;nbsp; This is a five hundred dollar tree I bought in an after-Christmas sale.&amp;nbsp; That wasn't happening.&amp;nbsp; 3)Unwind the strands that weren't working and replace them carefully so that the tree would still be able to come apart in sections with the lights still attached.&amp;nbsp; This is the route I took.&amp;nbsp; So far I have replaced two of the six strands that aren't working.&amp;nbsp; I don't know what the Christmas tree company pays the person who wraps the branches with the lights, but it isn't enough.&amp;nbsp; That employee is going above and beyond, my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am bound and determined to conquer this project soon.&amp;nbsp; Hopefully pictures will be up shortly.&amp;nbsp; It can't sideline me for too long: I have a ton of cooking to do for Thursday when we celebrate Thanksgiving with Justin's family and Saturday when we celebrate with mine.&amp;nbsp; I also have a dirty house to clean before my brother Seth comes to stay with us for four days.&amp;nbsp; All of my family will be here this weekend.&amp;nbsp; I can't wait- two of my brothers and my sister-in-law haven't even met their new nephew.&amp;nbsp; (Who isn't so new anymore.&amp;nbsp; He started rolling over!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in case I forget to say it, my family is who I am thankful for this year.&amp;nbsp; This may sound like a given, but I'm not saying this lightly.&amp;nbsp; Dealing with my mother-in-law's leukemia and my dad's prostate cancer these past couple of years has made me acutely aware that life is short and time with family is precious.&amp;nbsp; I have been so blessed and I thank Him for every day I have with them.&amp;nbsp; Most of all, I am thankful for the honor of being blessed with my precious son and daughter.&amp;nbsp; God is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-5595958010745652729?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/5595958010745652729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=5595958010745652729&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/5595958010745652729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/5595958010745652729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/11/holiday-preparations.html' title='Holiday Preparations'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-1933671840523713545</id><published>2009-11-13T10:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T10:54:57.487-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family life'/><title type='text'>Glenna is 2!</title><content type='html'>It has been a while since I posted again.&amp;nbsp; Not because I had nothing to post about- because I had too much, and not enough time to sit and write.&amp;nbsp; Sunday was Glenna's second birthday.&amp;nbsp; We celebrated with the family on Saturday morning.&amp;nbsp; I always wish I could invite more people, but our house is so small and she has a November birthday, so an outdoor party is out.&amp;nbsp; Although, we could have had it outdoors this year: it was seventy degrees all weekend!&amp;nbsp; So beautiful.&amp;nbsp; I tried a new approach to opening gifts this time.&amp;nbsp; We all sat around the living room and held the gift we brought.&amp;nbsp; I had Glenna go around to every person one at a time and open their gift with them.&amp;nbsp; We gave her a little time to play with each toy before having her move on.&amp;nbsp; It was a nice approach.&amp;nbsp; She seemed to enjoy everything more and didn't get overwhelmed.&amp;nbsp; I think all the relatives liked opening a gift with her too.&amp;nbsp; She got some great learning toys, puzzles, videos, and clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really can't believe my little girl is 2.&amp;nbsp; Every time she climbs up on my lap and wants to snuggle, I wonder how much longer I have of the "cuddle years."&amp;nbsp; There are times that she wakes up crying in the night and I happily rock her to sleep regardless of how tired I am.&amp;nbsp; A year ago, I would have made her cry it out.&amp;nbsp; Now I wonder which night will be the last time.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to really be in trouble when my last child is this age if I'm this sentimental with my firstborn.&amp;nbsp; She is such an amazing gift from God.&amp;nbsp; I always wanted a daughter- that mother-daughter relationship is so special.&amp;nbsp; Don't get me wrong: I always wanted a son too, but for different reasons.&amp;nbsp; I am so thankful for my girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Sv2K5pDoSMI/AAAAAAAAADk/3ZWjnlEg_AU/s1600-h/IMG_1198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Sv2K5pDoSMI/AAAAAAAAADk/3ZWjnlEg_AU/s320/IMG_1198.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After the birthday party we went to Justin's cousin's wedding.&amp;nbsp; Glenna went home with my parents to spend the night.&amp;nbsp; Reuben went along too- he's like a moth to a flame where Glenna is concerned.&amp;nbsp; They played together all afternoon and evening.&amp;nbsp; He is such an amazing uncle.&amp;nbsp; I love seeing this side of him.&amp;nbsp; The photo shelves in his apartment are a little shrine to Glenna.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning at church (Glenna's actual birthday), I gave Glenna a hug, told her "Happy Birthday", and said "I love you."&amp;nbsp; Then she gave &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;me&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; the best birthday gift in the world.&amp;nbsp; She said "I love you" to me for the first time!&amp;nbsp; I cried.&amp;nbsp; She did it again that night when Justin was putting her to bed.&amp;nbsp; I tear up every time she says it.&amp;nbsp; I've been so looking forward to her doing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this has been an exceptionally mushy post.&amp;nbsp; Now I have to start getting in gear for Christmas.&amp;nbsp; It's less than six weeks away, and I'm broke!&amp;nbsp; Yikes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-1933671840523713545?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/1933671840523713545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=1933671840523713545&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/1933671840523713545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/1933671840523713545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/11/glenna-is-2.html' title='Glenna is 2!'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/Sv2K5pDoSMI/AAAAAAAAADk/3ZWjnlEg_AU/s72-c/IMG_1198.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-1538329426938101754</id><published>2009-11-04T08:31:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T18:59:22.262-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family life'/><title type='text'>Think they look alike?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGckQ_SOPI/AAAAAAAAACs/6h6GhyN4HIc/s1600-h/IMG_1168.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400269575043561714" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGckQ_SOPI/AAAAAAAAACs/6h6GhyN4HIc/s400/IMG_1168.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been accused of cloning.  I think I see some family resemblance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGUDG6ErhI/AAAAAAAAACM/IBxwL8cEAR0/s1600-h/219.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400260209308642834" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGUDG6ErhI/AAAAAAAAACM/IBxwL8cEAR0/s320/219.JPG" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGUDczRADI/AAAAAAAAACU/gDact7eHKzY/s1600-h/IMG_2325-3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400260215185670194" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGUDczRADI/AAAAAAAAACU/gDact7eHKzY/s320/IMG_2325-3.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGUDgJa-1I/AAAAAAAAACc/QMnlKfUVf_A/s1600-h/167.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400260216083905362" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGUDgJa-1I/AAAAAAAAACc/QMnlKfUVf_A/s320/167.JPG" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGUELctdbI/AAAAAAAAACk/89e9qMSlaEE/s1600-h/002.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400260227707532722" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGUELctdbI/AAAAAAAAACk/89e9qMSlaEE/s320/002.JPG" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-1538329426938101754?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/1538329426938101754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=1538329426938101754&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/1538329426938101754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/1538329426938101754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/11/think-they-look-alike.html' title='Think they look alike?'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvGckQ_SOPI/AAAAAAAAACs/6h6GhyN4HIc/s72-c/IMG_1168.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-510097032801900248</id><published>2009-11-03T21:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T06:52:59.910-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book reviews'/><title type='text'>Book Review:  Deadline  (part 1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvB3gBAhf_I/AAAAAAAAAA4/NAieUvJTO4g/s1600-h/9781590525920.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399947345127374834" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvB3gBAhf_I/AAAAAAAAAA4/NAieUvJTO4g/s320/9781590525920.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 250px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 165px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I bought this book at the recommendation of a friend recently and I'm only a few chapters in, but I feel compelled to start the review now, as it is turning out to be a very thought-provoking book.  Since this is my first review on this blog, I'll tell you that I read &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt;.  My tastes run to Christian fiction, with the occasional non-fiction.  I always love a well-written Christian romance, but tire of the predictable ones.  Some of my all-time favorites are not "Full House" endings.  I guess I just like to be kept on my toes a little.  I also like books that make me think about some aspect of Christianity in a different light, even if they are fictional.  Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker have become favorite authors for this reason. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Deadline&lt;/span&gt; is turning out to be that kind of book, and like any fictional account of something the Bible leaves in partial mystery, I'm not sure I completely agree with the author's interpretation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The story line so far is this:  Three friends who have been inseparable since childhood are in a car accident.  Two die; one a Christian and one an atheist.  Jake, the friend left behind, is not a believer, but is torn between admiration for the way the Christian lived his life and an affinity for the beliefs the atheist held.   In the process of mourning his friends and trying to get on with life, he is faced with evidence that the accident may have been intentional.   Now immersed in assisting the homicide investigation, he is unaware of someone following him and watching his every move.  (All in all, the start of your typical "whodunit.")  The characters have been developed by flashbacks to memories from their decades of friendship and experiences serving in the Vietnam war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The part that is the most thought provoking so far is the ongoing account of Finney (the believer.)  His death experience and introduction to life in heaven are written in great detail, and it's probably not depicted the way most people would imagine (even Christians.)  Taking a center role in all of it is Finney's guardian angel, present from the moment of birth (or before), beside him through all his earthly experiences, escorting him through the portal of death, and now his own personal tour guide in heaven.  While a reunion with his loved ones is described, Finney seems to be spending all his time with this angel, asking him questions, seeing his life events through different eyes, and peeking in on what's still occurring on earth (on Jake's unfolding drama in particular.)  This idea of heavenly experience including meeting our guardian angel and developing an ever-deepening relationship between celestial being and human produces a lot of questions on my part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;First of all, do we have any evidence that we will have much interaction with the angels in heaven?  I guess I never gave the question much thought before now.  The Biblical descriptions of heaven involve angels of course, and they are usually depicted as worshiping God without ceasing.  I know this is the specific role of the seraphim, but what about the others?  I guess I thought we'd have interaction with them- like getting Gabriel's point of view on the nativity or something like that.  I just never thought of us as spending our time getting to know our guardian angel from our time on earth and learning from them.  John's visits to heaven included him asking angels like Michael and Gabriel questions and learning from them, so I guess it's possible.  I always thought relationships with angels, while fascinating, would take a backseat to our relationships with our fellow humans (and of course the most important of all: Christ.)  The fact that we will likely have some interaction with angels in heaven (although I don't necessarily think to the degree depicted in this book) brings up another question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Will  we know our guardian angel in heaven?  For that matter, do we each have a "guardian angel"?  One angel whose sole assignment is to be by our side our entire life, following the commands of the Father in watching over us?  I don't really know that we do.  I'm intrigued enough to start looking for verses that would support the idea, because my first response would be that I don't think we each have a specific guardian angel.  I know the Bible talks about God giving the angels charge to watch over us, but I don't recall anything saying we each have our own angel.  What we each do have is the Holy Spirit indwelling us, guiding us, and communicating to the Father on our behalf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One point I adamantly disagree with in this book is the angel calling Finney "master."  Whoah.  Angels &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do not&lt;/span&gt; serve us!  They serve God.  Even if we do have a guardian angel, they are not our personal genie in a bottle waiting to do our bidding.  Another idea in the book is one that opens up pandora's box on the subject of predestination and free will.  In this book only believers have guardian angels, and while Finney became a Christian later in life, his guardian angel was there all along.  So do people who are going to become children of God have guardian angels beside them their whole lives while unbelievers do not?  Or do unbelievers have guardian angels too?  This line of thinking leads to many more questions than I'm willing to go into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The emphasis this book places on guardian angels bothers me because there is a danger here of Christians becoming preoccupied with angels to an unhealthy extent.  Many human-angel interactions recorded in scripture include the human falling down in awe upon seeing the angel, and the angel being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; emphatic that we are not to worship them.  They do not want attention to be focused on them, but on the One they serve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It will be interesting to see how the book unfolds.  I don't have to agree with an author to enjoy his work, especially if it makes me think.  I haven't read any account of what Doc is experiencing yet (the atheist), but my friend tells me it's in there.  I'm sure there will be more thought-provoking material ahead.  In the meantime, I'm going to be reading passages from the Bible about angels as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-510097032801900248?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/510097032801900248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=510097032801900248&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/510097032801900248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/510097032801900248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/11/book-review-deadline-part-1.html' title='Book Review:  Deadline  (part 1)'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SvB3gBAhf_I/AAAAAAAAAA4/NAieUvJTO4g/s72-c/9781590525920.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-4308232104436843987</id><published>2009-11-02T15:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T06:53:40.503-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family life'/><title type='text'>Nice weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It turned out to be a relaxing weekend at the in-law's.  Despite the endless piles of things we had to stuff in the car in order to be away from home for just one night. Despite the crazy shenanigans, wrestling, and general mayhem between Grandpa, Glenna, and Cousin Lizzy when the sugar highs kicked in.  Despite the chaotic consignment sale hunting through mountains of used baby clothes while Levi screamed.  Despite sleeping in a strange bed and waking up at 5 a.m. because nobody informed Levi about daylight savings time.  Why would I call such a weekend relaxing?  (Cindi looked at me like I had lost my mind when I did.)  Because I had tons of help with the kids.  There were plenty of others to take care of Glenna's hissy fits and overflowing energy and plenty of people to try to soothe the fussy baby, and for once, I let them.  Every mom eventually reaches the point when she doesn't care anymore if it's done her way as long as it gets done.  That was my state of mind this weekend, and it helped me to finally relax a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The best part of the weekend by far was our anniversary lunch date without the kids.  We racked our brains while we were eating and realized that our last date was for one of our birthdays- so in January or February.  This was looong overdue.  Justin wanted to eat at a burger joint or BBQ, but I stuck to my guns and got Italian.  My argument was that he goes out to eat almost weekly with his coworkers, and it's usually burgers or BBQ.  I go out to eat... never.  (The fact that he goes out to eat so often without me is a sore point for me... but that's another story.)  The minute we walked into the restaurant and I smelled the fresh bread, pasta, and spices, my muscles literally relaxed.  It's amazing how the happy scent of carbs can affect me!  Dinner was amazing.  Fried motzerella, lobster ravioli, blackberry cream Italian soda, and some caramel, cinnamon, and ice cream covered bread pudding that I can't pronounce...wow.  I think I just drooled a little typing that.  We will definitely be doing that again as soon as I can arrange it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Glenna had a sleepover at my brother and sister-in-law's house Saturday night with her cousin (who is 10.)  She did pretty good, and Lizzy is already campaigning to do it again.  I'm glad she enjoys her cousin.  I was worried that my kids wouldn't really have close cousin relationships, since Lizzy is 8 years older than Glenna, and none of my brothers are anywhere close to starting families.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;On Sunday we visited our old church.  It was fun to see old friends, but hard at the same time.  It gets more packed every time we go back, and we recognize fewer and fewer faces.  We still love the music, the sermons, and the people we knew, but it's reassuring that we have found our home at Ottawa Bible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm still not back into the swing of things around the house.  Glenna's birthday party is at our house Saturday morning, meaning that about the time I have everything cleaned up, it'll get trashed again.  Oh well.  That's life, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-4308232104436843987?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/4308232104436843987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=4308232104436843987&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/4308232104436843987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/4308232104436843987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/11/nice-weekend.html' title='Nice weekend'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-2153362434452961052</id><published>2009-10-30T15:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T06:54:09.652-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family life'/><title type='text'>Appreciating Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have been negligent in my attempts to be a blogger.  I never have been much for keeping a journal and the like, but I'm going to try to post more often, even if it's short anecdotes of our daily lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The past two weeks have made me more appreciative of my family and the time I have with them.  Friends of ours found out that their five year-old son who had neuroblastoma (cancer) two years ago is relapsing.  When he was first diagnosed, he had a 30% chance of living.  For relapsed stage IV neuroblastoma, there is no known cure.  They're hoping for another remission, but his chance of getting one is only about 10%.  How does a parent handle hearing something like that?  My heart breaks for them every day as I pray for their son, and I'm looking at my own children and the time I have with them a lot differently.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We're getting ready to spend a weekend at my in-laws'.  I'm going to a consignment sale Saturday morning in Tonganoxie, going out to lunch with Justin for a VERY belated anniversary date, and then his band has a show in Tongie that night.  Glenna is going to sleep over with her cousin at my brother and sister-in-law's house.  Sunday, we're going with them to Crossroads to visit our old church family and then out to eat with everybody.  Should be an eventful weekend.  I'm sure I'll be exhausted by the time we get home (and not at all ready for Monday morning.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-2153362434452961052?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/2153362434452961052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=2153362434452961052&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/2153362434452961052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/2153362434452961052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/10/appreciating-life.html' title='Appreciating Life'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-197190842543933445</id><published>2009-09-14T12:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T06:54:27.739-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='just between moms'/><title type='text'>I need a break!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Today may just be a good day.  I actually have peace and quiet (despite 4 kids under the age of 2 in the house.)    Considering my scant 3 hours of sleep last night, this is a major relief.  I wasn't looking forward to another morning of incessant noise.  For the first time in two weeks, we are all sitting around peacefully playing and reading books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It has been trying around here lately.  Glenna came down with a double ear infection and a sinus infection Wednesday night.  She ran a fever of 102 for several days and was extremely irritable and tired.  (Not a good combination when I myself am irritable and tired.)  We have been competing ever since for the title of "crankiest girl in the house".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I finally hit the wall last night.  After another crazy weekend with a nursing infant and a whiny toddler, I ended up in my recliner at 8 p.m. holding one in each arm while tears ran uncontrollably down my face.  I was finally able to define the way I've been feeling: I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exhausted&lt;/span&gt;  from&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; always &lt;/span&gt;caring for someone else.  I tried and tried to remember the last time I did something remotely social without one or both of them along, and I couldn't.  I have had a few "social" activities in the last few months, and spent all of them nursing Levi in a corner, chasing Glenna around, or both.  The few times I left one or both of them with Justin or my mom, it has been to do something for someone else.  (I've set up for a church dinner, bridal shower, and baby shower; shopped for groceries, and taught an AWANA's class.  Those are the extent of my times away from the kids.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Yesterday, I had new plants that my mom bought me and nice weather.  I wanted some time to spend planting and finishing up the landscaping while Levi was sleeping.  Now, I am not a person who enjoys gardening- I never understood why women found gardening therapeutic until I had kids.  Now I understand.  If it takes you out of the house and provides peace and quiet for even a short time, it's heavenly.  I would have preferred to do my gardening without watching Glenna the whole time, but she was cranky, so I figured being outside would cheer her up too.  I managed to get the plants in the ground and the weeds pulled before Levi started fussing.  I thought I'd feed him and get back out.  It's never that easy.  He took forever to settle down and then Glenna needed dinner.  By the time I went back outside, I had about half an hour of twilight left.  Just enough time to spread the rock.  ...Except that the tire was flat on the wheelbarrow.  I already had the paper spread in preparation for the river rock and didn't want it to blow away, so I desperately transferred rock across the yard one shovelful at a time while Justin took the tire to air up and it got darker and darker.  By the time he got back and could help me, it was too dark to see and I had to leave the project to finish another day.  By then, the tears had started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After the kids were diapered, changed, read to, nursed, and both in bed, I explained to Justin why I was so down.  It's a little sad that I was looking forward to that project all weekend, but it was the one thing I planned to do &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;for&lt;/span&gt; myself and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;by&lt;/span&gt; myself.  He tries to understand how I feel, but he has a minimum of one night a week of social activity away from the kids (with the guys in the band).  Plus, in the 6 weeks since Levi was born, he's had a day of golf with a friend and a day at a college football game with his dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The crazy thing is that I feel &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;guilty&lt;/span&gt; after all the time I spend with them to leave them with him or someone else.  I have this feeling of responsibility that I can't shake- that they're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; responsibility (not ours), and I'm not being a good mother to pawn them off on someone else.  Where did this come from?!  Is it because I'm a stay-at-home mom, and they are my "job" (and he already has a full-time job of his own)?  Is it some insanely high expectation I've set for myself?  As if that isn't bad enough, I feel terribly guilty for even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wanting&lt;/span&gt; time away from them.  I'm supposed to be cherishing these years, right?  They fly by too quickly, the kids grow up and leave you, and you've got all the "me" time you want.  That's what I keep thinking- that by wanting a break, I'm not being thankful for the incredible blessings I've been given or I'm not appreciating this fleetingly short time with them at this age.  Anyone else know how I feel?  Some days I just dream of taking a walk with a friend for exercise with no wagons, slings, or strollers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To top it all off, we may have missed our opportunity to take a date night for our wedding anniversary (it's tomorrow).  We figured we'd leave the kids with my parents on Saturday and use a pair of free movie passes we've been saving.  Unfortunately, we didn't plan ahead very well.  We should have gone last weekend.  My parents are going to Colorado and will be gone the next two weekends.  Weeknights are just too complicated with everyone working.  We can't afford a babysitter.  We even tried his parents- no go.  Don't know when we'll get to celebrate.  It may be a while.  In the meantime, Justin says he understands my need for a break and will try to give me the time I need.  So... anyone want a girl's night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-197190842543933445?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/197190842543933445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=197190842543933445&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/197190842543933445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/197190842543933445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-need-break.html' title='I need a break!'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-2289669148216886398</id><published>2009-08-19T15:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T06:54:52.125-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='those crazy kids'/><title type='text'>An exciting day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;More often than not, I complain about the lack of excitement around here.  Well we had excitement &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;today&lt;/span&gt;!  I'll have to back up a few days to tell the whole story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Glenna learned to open doors this week... finally.  So far she's used this new skill to rebel during naptime (especially when we had guests over) and to wake Mom and Dad up at 5 in the morning during a storm.  It's been more of a nuisance than anything, and it's not like we thought she would never learn how to do this- we just need to adjust.  And apparently I need to adjust a little faster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Today, I went to the garage to get some fish sticks from the freezer for Glenna's lunch.  I was bending over the freezer when she slammed &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;and locked&lt;/span&gt; the door.  It took a few seconds for full realization of my situation to sink in.  I was completely locked out (the front door was locked too.)  I had no keys, no cell phone, nothing.  For about 10 minutes, I tried to get her to open the door.  I called to her through the door while she jiggled the knob, but I couldn't get her to turn the lock again.  She thought this was a fun game, though, alternating between turning the knob and knocking on the door, giggling all the while.  Eventually, she tired of this activity and returned to the basement to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Giving up on the easy solution (and any chance of saving face), I ran over to the neighbor's house and asked for help.   (Thank goodness our next door neighbor is a stay-at-home mom, and someone I know well enough to not be too embarrassed.)   Using her phone, I called the police, who gave me the number for the local locksmith.   (I guess babies and toddlers locked alone in a house do not constitute as police business.)   The locksmith was mercifully fast to arrive (due to my panic on the phone, I'm sure.)   Guess these situations are a job for ex-cons, because the guy they sent very rapidly and skillfully opened my door with a credit card.   Not sure if that was very effective in restoring my peace of mind...  but at least he was nice enough to not charge me for his breaking and entering skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the end, all turned out fine- no catastrophes with the kids and the media did not show up to do a story on the newest bad mother in town.  (The thought did go through my head while I was calling the police.)  Whew... I think I've had enough excitement for a while.   Now I can get busy scouting out the perfect hiding place for a hide-a-key.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SozGHw-8yqI/AAAAAAAAAAw/PDvmbbB0i98/s1600-h/IMG_2344.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371886292256475810" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SozGHw-8yqI/AAAAAAAAAAw/PDvmbbB0i98/s320/IMG_2344.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 258px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 238px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-2289669148216886398?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/2289669148216886398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=2289669148216886398&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/2289669148216886398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/2289669148216886398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/08/more-often-than-not-i-complain-about.html' title='An exciting day'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/SozGHw-8yqI/AAAAAAAAAAw/PDvmbbB0i98/s72-c/IMG_2344.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-8959712191300550406</id><published>2009-08-10T18:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T06:55:08.638-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rants'/><title type='text'>My recent medical issues...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So I do have a rant that has been building ever since I gave birth...  I wish people would stop scolding me like I'm a twelve year old incapable of making intelligent decisions.  After having Levi, my blood pressure skyrocketed and as a result, I had to be kept in the hospital for an extra day until it was under control.  Then, 10 days after I had him, I woke up with severe chest pains and went in to the ER in the middle of the night to have it checked out.  Some people looked at these facts alone, decided I wasn't taking very good care of myself, and jumped all over me for it.  However, the details are a little more complex...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I had preeclampsia when I was pregnant with Glenna.  If you don't know what this is, it's a condition triggered by pregnancy in some women that results in elevated blood pressure, higher than average weight gain and water retention, and a higher risk for low birth weight babies.  Even though I had this condition, my doctor was very impressed with how I did the whole time.  I only gained 17 pounds, my blood pressure didn't go up until 37 weeks when she induced me, and Glenna was very healthy.  If she thought that was impressive, she couldn't believe how I did during my second pregnancy.  I was considered high risk because of the first pregnancy, but my blood pressure was excellent the entire time.  I didn't retain water or swell up, and I gained twelve pounds.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Twelve pounds.&lt;/span&gt;  The baby weighed nine!  (And that is excellent for me to have such a big baby with the hightened risk of low birth weight.)  She induced me at 39 weeks this time, not for medical reasons, but because the baby was so big.  She could not stop talking about how incredible I did the entire pregnancy and how healthy I and the baby both were.  That being said, the blood pressure going up after I gave birth was a delayed reaction to the pregnancy, not anything I did wrong.  In fact, I couldn't have done any better, according to my doctor.  Still, well-meaning friends and family blasted me for not taking it easy enough or trying hard enough to get it to go down so I could go home.  I had NO control over my blood pressure!  It was directly related to my pregnancy, and it went down on its own when my body flushed out the extra fluids from pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then there was the chest pain.  I first experienced this pain the day after having Levi.   I chalked it up to sore muscles and didn't worry too much about it.  I did mention it to the nurses, who didn't seem too concerned either.  A week later it returned much worse (so bad I couldn't breathe and I was vomiting.)  I went to the ER, where they did every cardiac test possible.  My blood pressure was fine, the EKG came back perfect, chest x-rays showed nothing, and blood tests came back normal.  The doctor told me that if the pain returns, I need to have my gallbladder checked out.  After some research on my own, I am convinced that this is the problem.  My symptoms are identical to those described as a gallbladder attack and I'm finding that for some unknown reason, it is very common for women to have problems with their gallbladder immediatly after giving birth.  However, I was again verbally blasted when people found out I was in the ER with chest pain.  They completely ignored the fact that nothing was wrong with my heart or blood pressure and assumed that I was again neglecting to care for myself (and in the process, my new baby.)  Due to the reaction I recieved, I haven't been telling anyone that the pains have been continuing- I'm probably going to be talking to my doctor about surgery soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It just irritated me how many people accused me of making poor decisions medically while completely ignoring the facts.  I am perfectly capable of caring for myself (not to mention my children) and don't need to be put on a guilt trip for things that are totally out of my control.  Thankfully, my close friends and family were good about not harping on me or blaming me for all that has happened these past two weeks.  I'm dreading the onslaught if I have to have surgery soon.  Why can't people offer to help instead of ripping me apart if they're so "concerned"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-8959712191300550406?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/8959712191300550406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=8959712191300550406&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/8959712191300550406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/8959712191300550406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/08/so-i-do-have-rant-that-has-been.html' title='My recent medical issues...'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433581326532969737.post-9141751503629559025</id><published>2009-08-10T17:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T06:55:24.201-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I have hit a new level of boredom... apparently</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Frankly, considering how little I have to say that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anyone&lt;/span&gt; would find interesting to read about, I don't know why I'm bothering to start a blog.  That being said, I guess this will be more of an outlet for me than anything else.  Mostly, I will be posting the things I deem too long and/or boring for facebook posts.  (Sad, isn't it?)  I'm sure some of you can understand- especially females who are likewise cooped up all day with children incapable of conversation past "whazzat?" and "nooooooo!" (Glenna's favorite two words these days.)  I will try to spice things up with the occasional rant or deep thought, but no promises that they will be deep to anyone but me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433581326532969737-9141751503629559025?l=brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/feeds/9141751503629559025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433581326532969737&amp;postID=9141751503629559025&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/9141751503629559025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433581326532969737/posts/default/9141751503629559025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brooke-ihavenolife.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-have-hit-new-level-of-boredom.html' title='I have hit a new level of boredom... apparently'/><author><name>Brooke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13622076332118544031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kOfErLTwNS0/TR16g22kBoI/AAAAAAAAAGo/qptF4lvKxs0/S220/IMG_1752-1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
