tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230532472024-03-23T12:25:33.508-06:003 boys o' mineNicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-49999569111856502482011-09-20T12:52:00.003-06:002011-09-20T15:10:27.641-06:00Scuppernongs<div>After finishing up our first year on a good note, I was feeling much more confident about our decision to homeschool. We had endured the state mandated standardized tests that showed the boys were right on track, but considering my general disdain for standardized tests, I took the results with a grain of salt. The further we got from public school, the more natural things felt. And the more I learned about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Weapons-Mass-Instruction-Schoolteachers-Compulsory/dp/0865716692/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1316543922&sr=8-1">the origins of the current antiquated system</a> (yikes!), the more grateful I felt for the opportunity to keep the boys home, where they belong.<br /><br />In planning for our next year, I'd settled on a curriculum called "My Father's World". As a unit study, it covered everything from literature to geography, science to art. And it could be used for all three boys. Everyone I talked to said they loved it. I was fortunate enough to stumble upon some used books in a curriculum sale and then filled in the blanks on Amazon. All summer I was feeling pretty prepared. But insecurity was lurking just around the corner. <br /><br />At football practice I'd hear parents talking about how their sixth graders were going to use scientific calculators this year and thought, <em>woo</em>. We'd had to back track with Cole to undo the damage that the "Everyday Math" curriculum had done and were not nearly at a place needing a fancy calculator yet. (Come to think of it, I'd never needed a scientific calculator in my entire life and had somehow managed the household finances for over a decade. Go figure.)<br /><br />As the summer wound down my anxiety level went up. The stack of books on my bedside table had hardly been touched. The big expectations I'd had for <em>The Well-Trained Mind</em> were diminished when I read a book mocking people who believe in training their childrens' minds that way. Who could I trust?<br /><br />The answer came unexpectedly. <br /><br />One day, a couple of weeks before our new school year was to start, we were reading a book together and came upon the word <em>scuppernongs</em>. Scuppernongs? We all scratched our heads and wondered what in the world a scuppernong was. I said I'd look it up later on and we continued the story. <br /><br />Just a short while later it was lunch time. After making a sandwich I logged into facebook to check in on my friends. As I scrolled down the page reading everyone's status updates, my eyes were caught by a photo. It was a picture of some grape-like things in a bowl and it said, "This is why I love my brother! He sent me some scuppernongs from Georgia!" Holy cow. That was weird. In my entire life I'd never heard of such a thing and now it had come up twice in one morning. What were the odds?<br /><br />The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was no coincidence. It was the Lord sending me a message. He was letting me know that He was the one who had started us on this journey and He was going to see us through. He would provide the knowledge we needed, when we needed it. Homeschooling was not about me and what I knew, there was a much bigger picture to remember. I could breath a sigh of relief when I felt like panicking at the prospect of being responsible for the boys' education because it was not on my shoulders at all. <br /><br />A few days later as I recounted the story to a friend, I decided to look up scuppernongs to read more about them. What was this strange fruit with the funny name anyway? I had to smile when I read that <em>the oldest cultivated grapevine in the world is the 400 year old scuppernong "Mother Vine" growing on Roanoke Island, North Carolina.</em> (Wikipedia)<br /><br />Although I love the sound of Mother Vine, Father Vine would be more like it. May we continue to grow in Him as we continue our journey together.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /></div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-47104778620951856722010-12-15T21:32:00.004-07:002010-12-29T18:55:41.500-07:00freedomIt’s been a couple of months since we pulled our boys out of public school and began our adventure in homeschooling. Although it’s feeling more and more “normal” I still wake up some mornings and feel like we’re all playing hooky and someone’s going to show up at the door with a badge. I always make sure to have my make-up on and hair brushed, just in case.<br /><br /> When we meet new people and they ask what school our kids go to I still have an out-of-body experience when I hear myself saying, “Actually…um…we’re homeschooling our kids.” The reaction we get has become so predictable that I feel slightly amused and slightly annoyed when I see that first look of amazement their face. <br /> <br /> As their eyes narrow in their reassessment of who they think I am (since I apparently appear to be sane and normal), the first thing they want to know is, “Why?” It’s the most logical question but a tricky one to answer since I don’t want to offend them with the truth. We live in one of the best school districts in the state so I start with the disclaimer about how we’ve always had nice, dedicated teachers but we’ve just come to see education in a different light. It’s not the teachers we have a problem with, it’s the system. The soul-sucking, institutional, government run, bureaucratic, politically correct, watered down, broken system that can never be fixed. But I say it with a smile and not so many words.<br /><br /> The next reaction is usually a wide-eyed observation that, “Wow. You have to be with your kids <em>all day, every day</em>.” And to be honest, that was the thing that scared me the most when we decided to take on this endeavor. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for over a decade but had been looking forward to having all the boys in school. I had an extensive list of things I wanted do with all that “me” time. When I kept getting nudges from above that we were supposed to go in this direction I thought, “Seriously, Lord?” But from past experience I’ve learned that His plans are a lot better than anything I’ve ever come up with. <br /><br /> I have to admit that before I really looked into it I had the false perception that homeschoolers were reclusive, over-protective, religious zealots along the lines of the Branch Davidians. Besides the fact that they won spelling bees I didn’t know much else about them. I soon found out that homeschooling families are independent minded, self-reliant people who not only want the best education for their kids, they’re going to personally make sure they get it. And they are as prolific as they are diverse.<br /><br /> After I met with several veteran homeschooling moms and attended a day-long seminar I learned that when you’re with your kids all the time you have no choice but to civilize them and build their character. And when you deal with the character issues then the academics naturally fall into place. Of course it’s a character building process for me, too. Things I need to work on like my temper and patience are brought into focus whether I like it or not. As one mom put it, “Parenting is God’s way of bringing you closer to Him and homeschooling is His way of growing you up.”<br /><br /> But one of the most unexpected things I’ve found as we’ve adapted to spending more time together is the boys actually get along better and I enjoy them more. We’ve had several days that went so well I found myself wishing we’d started homeschooling years ago. Gone are the harried mornings filled with lunch packing, homework gathering and rushing out the door. I no longer sit in endless lines to drop them off and pick them up just to deal with their decompression time (bickering) on the way home. Without the cloud of homework looming over our heads we can read, take walks and relax in the evenings. It’s surprisingly liberating to have the boys at home all the time.<br /><br /> I’m also liberated from the endless fundraisers, book orders, over-the-top “Winter Holiday” parties run by busy body classroom mothers involving specific napkins to bring and games to play. I no longer have pages and pages of papers requiring my signature. No more parent teacher conferences where I tell the teacher my son isn’t getting it and they smile and say, don’t worry, he’s fine. No he’s not! I can now state unequivocally that I am the P and the T in the PTA and we’re in agreement on what my kids understand and don’t understand.<br /><br /> I look back on the days when I peeled their little arms off my legs to send them to pre-school and cried as I walked away. I wish I hadn’t done that. I could have taught them their ABC’s just as well. I recall the times I had lunch with them in the dreary, institutional cafeteria with the depressing food and grouchy lunch people barking at them. They’d always look up with their sad eyes and beg to go home with me. They knew I’d say no so they’d sigh and stoically line up with their classmates as they watched me walk out the door into the sunshine.<br /><br /> These don’t seem to be things people want to hear because the next thing they say, the thing that causes me to take a deep breath and bite my tongue is, “Well I could never do it because my kids need the socialization.” In my head I think, really? If you think that locking a group of thirty kids of the same age in a room for years on end teaches them about the world and how to interact with those of different backgrounds and ages, you’re kidding yourself. Homeschooled kids have plenty of opportunities to interact with a wide range of people on fieldtrips, volunteering expeditions, support group meetings, and extra-curricular activities. The possibilities are endless. <br /><br /> I volunteered in the boys’ classrooms for years and could never get over all the crap those teachers had to deal with. The amount of time wasted dealing with the trouble making children was frustrating to watch. And from what I could tell, a kid had to practically pull out a knife before they’d send them to the principal. Children in school settings look to their peers for approval and acceptance. Home schooled kids look to their family. Who do you want your kids to model their behavior after? But instead of saying that, I just smile and say, sure. People that think schools provide healthy socialization aren’t going to listen to anything else. <br /> <br /> This inevitably leads to the next response: the nightmare story. Everyone has one. “I knew a family that homeschooled their kids and they were awkward and wore high waters.” Or, “I know some people who got sick of it and ended up putting them back in school. Those kids never fit in.” To this I say that for every nightmare story there is a success story. I’ve met families with homeschooled kids who are now doctors, lawyers and entrepreneurs. And more importantly, they are emotionally healthy and well-rounded adults. <br /><br /> I hear nightmare stories about schools on a daily basis. Just turn on the TV and there are the bullies and pedophile teachers, the lock-downs and shootings. And don’t forget the drugs and sex and indoctrination. When I hear those stories I breathe a sigh of relief that the boys won’t have to go through all of that.<br /><br /> Then sometimes I have moments of, oh my gosh, I’m responsible for making sure three human beings are equipped with the tools they need to earn a living and provide for their families some day. Those are the moments I remind myself of everything I never learned in school. I made A’s and B’s so according to school standards I was a successful student. But I couldn’t tell you much about world history or algebra. I can recall hours or watching the clock, waiting for that bell to ring so I could escape to freedom. I look forward to re-learning things along with the boys and can’t wait to bring history and science and literature to life with them.<br /><br /> I also look forward to showering them with time and attention because in school they had been shy, well-behaved students that got overlooked in the classroom. I don’t blame the teachers for that. The squeaky wheel gets the oil and there were plenty of squeaky wheels to deal with. The boys no longer fear asking if they have a question. With just three students in our class there’s plenty of time to answer questions and go over things as many times as needed. And they can even use the restroom without permission. It’s almost like treating them as if they’re humans who deserve a little privacy now and then.<br /><br /> The final but unspoken question that people imply but are too polite to ask is, “How are you qualified? You didn’t even finish college. You hate math. You have no training in education.” And to that my reply is I’ve been teaching my children since the day they were born. Nobody knows them better, loves them as much or has more of a vested interest in their education than their own mother. My goal is not just to teach them facts and figures but to help them discover what their God-given purpose in life is. <br /><br /> I’ve come to see that education and furniture making have a lot in common. Public school is a lot like IKEA, functional and inexpensive. Private school is more like Ethan Allen, a higher quality and unrestrained by the political correctness of government entities. But homeschooling is a hand carved, dove-tailed kind of education. An education tailored to the child, not the other way around.<br /><br /> I’m fortunate to have this opportunity to spend this time with my kids. They will be grown and gone in the blink of an eye. I know it won’t be easy but it will be worth it. Just the other day my eight year-old who has always preferred numbers over words said, “I never realized how much fun writing could be, Mom!” That comment alone should get me through the first year.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-56818367015276649572010-08-05T23:09:00.005-06:002010-12-29T18:56:21.022-07:00schoolSo here I am, on the eve of what I've been looking forward to for the last decade. Through all the diaper changes, nursing babies through the night, pick-ups and drop-offs at pre-school and kindergarten. This is the place I thought I'd find the time to find myself again. Where I could be a little self-centered. When I had all of my children in school, all day long. Five days a week. But things have taken an unexpected turn.<br /><br />I think that God has a knack for placing certain people and even certain books in our lives at critical times. It's been a long time since this has happened to me. The last time was when I read <em>The Birth Book</em>, after having the worst experience in my life during the delivery of my first son. It caused me to rethink everything I thought about nature and hospitals and why we assume certain people know more than we know instead of trusting our own instincts.<br /><br />After reading that, I went on to deliver my second son in two hours with no drugs, to delivering my third son, au naturale as well. Ten pounds, six ounces, no drugs. It wasn't easy but I'd never felt so empowered in my life.<br /><br />And now I find myself here. After ordering a copy of <em>Dumbing Us Down </em>by John Taylor Gotto, I knew before I even finished the introduction that this book was about to change everything. Everything he said resonated with everything I already knew intuitively, as a student myself and from what I've witnessed in the public schools with my boys over the past five years. Before I finished the first chapter I knew that I could no longer subject my children to the soul sucking of public school, or even private school. It is all wrong.<br /><br />This revelation came as a surprise to me. I'll admit to being someone who has judged home schoolers before. I saw their parents as paranoid and over protective and wondered, "Do they really think their kids are that much better? Why isn't our school good enough?" My opinion was that children should be innoculated, not sheltered from the world.<br /><br />But after reading further, everything I've ever felt was wrong with our schools was perfectly verbalized by the author, a New York school teacher who won several impressive awards for his teaching. The boredom, the indifference, the mass production, and none of it leading to any grand results. Yet people still wanting to throw more money at it.<br /><br />It basically boils down to families. Our families are falling apart. And according to the author it's no surprise considering the "education" we are given. School is a false community that does not fulful our spiritual and emotional needs like a family can, yet promotes itself that way. Homework is something that cuts into our already limited family time but contributes little to learning. I've always felt resentment about it, especially when my kindergartners were assigned homework, but this book affirms my perception. Homework is just another way for schools to tighten the reigns and keep us in check.<br /><br />I can't begin to describe the ways that the author explains the problems with our current "education" (i.e. schooling) system so you should read it for yourself. All I know is that with every page I read I was awakened and validated in my feelings toward what I grew up with and what my sons have been through.<br /><br />I've been an involved parent and through my volunteering I've seen some disturbing things. From the depressing, drab experience that is 'lunch time' in the cafeteria, to the fact that the art teacher would have a melt down if the kids didn't create pictures that were basically the same, to the problem of trouble making students taking up much of the teacher's time and attention. <br /><br />I have a decision to make.<br /><br />As someone who has purposely brought three human beings into the world, I owe them the best. As far as time goes, I have the unique opportunity to give it to them. I am smart enough to figure out the best way to facilitate it. As far as I'm concerned, Ben Franklin and Abe Lincoln were self educated and they turned out just fine. The system that we have now is based on nothing more that power struggles for money and influence and I choose to opt out of that.<br /><br />As I've had a few days to digest this information, more and more things come to mind that I know to be true. If I were to home school, I could instill values in the boys that are important to our family. We could actually have a "Christmas break" instead of a "winter break." We could open our day with the pledge of allegiance <em>and</em> a prayer (gasp). I could talk to them about the theories of evolution <em>and</em> creation (double gasp). We could actually discuss and explore ideas together, as a family. <br /><br />They could find themselves at the same time I find myself.<br /><br />Our country is at a turning point. Our government, churches and schools are for the most part corrupt and in need of a complete renewal. So I'm going to choose to be a part of that. I'm going to take a deep breath and trust in God. <br /><br />Here goes...Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-23389765014612722012009-05-04T13:04:00.015-06:002009-06-21T23:01:56.026-06:0013.1I don't remember what first made me want to try it. Maybe it was because a couple of my friends had done it and I figured if they could, why couldn't I? Or it might have been because I'd overindulged during the holidays and figured if I had a solid date with a real goal I would force myself to get back into shape. <br /><br />So about three months ago as I was sitting at the boys' swim lessons, flipping through some sporting magazine, I came across the ad: <em>'The Colorado Marathon and Half-Marathon, Colorado's fastest and America's Most Scenic Course,'</em> it proudly proclaimed. I signed up that day, envisioning myself crossing the finish line in a few months as a very different being than the pale, soft, wintertime person I'd become.<br /><br />But training for the race didn't go the way I'd hoped. I don't do treadmills and I don't run in snow, so it was hit or miss getting myself out on the trails during the inclement Colorado springtime months. Just when I'd make some progress, a storm came along and kept me indoors for a week or two. Then, for the first time in years, I was hit with a stomach virus and knocked off my feet for a few days.<br /><br />I started to think about ditching the whole race and trying a different one later on in the year. I didn't think I was ready yet. The farthest I'd been able to run was just over eight miles and to me it seemed like a stretch to jump up to thirteen in a couple of weeks. Surely it would backfire on me and I'd have to ride the lag wagon to the end. So embarrassing.<br /><br />I also freaked myself out by clocking my distance everywhere I went in my car to see how far thirteen miles really was. Like to drive to our nearest Sam's, which feels very far, was only eleven miles. Holy COW, I thought. I can't run that far! What kind of crazy person would try such a thing??<br /><br />As the race loomed closer, I'd pretty much decided against it. But then things changed. The weather warmed up and I got in a few really good runs. I pictured how I'd feel on the morning of May 3rd if I decided to stay home. If I woke up and looked at the clock knowing that at that moment I should've been running along a river in Ft. Collins instead of sleeping in, I would have loathed myself.<br /><br />So at the last minute, I booked my hotel room and started getting my head ready for thirteen miles. It gave me butterflies and terror at the same time. But it was something I had to do.<br /><br />On Saturday I packed my stuff and headed North. After stopping to have a delicious lunch with my sister on the way, I arrived in Ft. Collins. I'd never been there before but always heard about it. It's ranked the number one city in America to raise a family. It was very charming and not in a contrived way. The University campus was gorgeous and the rows of eclectic shops downtown brought back memories of my own college town, San Marcos. I started feeling a little sentimental on top of the butterflies and terror. <br /><br />I headed to the Hilton to pick up my race packet. It was swarming with people and excitement. After getting my race t-shirt, bib and timing chip, I wandered around to check out the "expo" where they try to sell you fancy shoes and things. One of the displays they had was a map you could stick a pin in to mark where you were from. It was interesting to see that people had come from all over the US and several other countries to be in the race. Very cool.<br /><br />It was starting to get a little drizzly and gray when I left the expo and I drove around town to get my bearings. I stopped at the grocery store to stock up on bananas, Gatorade and energy bars and then made my way to the hotel to get settled in.<br /><br />I'd never stayed in a hotel by myself before and was pretty excited about it. But before long I realized why some people decide to end their lives in hotels. Being in a hotel by yourself is like the loneliest thing in the world. Before long I was back in my car looking for the nearest Schlotzsky's. <br /><br />After my sandwich was ordered, I sat at the counter and waited. By then it was really raining. As I gazed out the lonely window at the dark clouds overhead, a college student came in and sat down beside me. I couldn't believe it when he tried to strike up a conversation and seemed to actually be <em>flirting</em>. I was thinking that I could literally be his mother and that made me feel even more blue. I couldn't believe it had been so long since I'd been a college student myself. Thank goodness I only had a couple hours until bedtime or I would have worked myself into a serious pre-race funk.<br /><br />I headed back to the hotel and sorted out my things for the next day. After setting the alarm for 4:00am and watching a few depressing sitcoms, I turned out the lights thinking, "This is it. When I wake up it will be time..." Yikes. It was only 7:30 but I managed to fall asleep right away. Benadryl helps.<br /><br />Of course I spent the night having recurring nightmares that I'd overslept and missed the race. The good news was that in the dreams I was actually disappointed, not relieved, that I'd missed it. That made me feel that at least on some level I might be more ready that I thought. I tossed and turned all night and finally got up at 3:30 for good. No need for the alarm after all.<br /><br />I ate my breakfast of bananas, cereal and boiled eggs and tried not to worry that it was still raining outside. I do better in cool weather anyway but who wanted to run in the rain for that long? I'd never drank so much OJ and Gatorade in my life. By the time I left the hotel and headed to the parking area I was feeling very hydrated. Very, very hydrated.<br /><br />It wasn't hard to find a parking space in the garage and I'd gotten there early so I sat in my car a while watching the other runners arrive, sizing them up. You could tell the serious runners right away and then there were the people like me, who looked like they were just hoping not to embarrass themselves so they might be able to go home and post on their facebook status that they'd run a half-marathon that day.<br /><br />Before long it was time to get on the bus and head toward the starting line. It was still dark but the rain had stopped and I could see a faint glow on the horizon. The buses filled up quickly and slowly pulled away and headed out of town. It seemed like such a strange thing for over 1500 people to be riding buses to the middle of nowhere at 5am so they could voluntarily run thirteen miles back to town. And then there were the marathoners who had already left for their starting line an hour earlier. Crazy.<br /><br />The ride seemed exceptionally long since the whole time I was thinking how I'd be running the whole way back. Most people were pretty quiet and contemplative but a few were chatting away with their seatmates about their previous races and conquests.<br /><br />When we arrived at the staging location the sun was halfway up and the clouds were clearing out. It was starting to look like a very good day. We were dropped off in a field filled with what looked like hundreds of port-o-potties and a large tent. Once I got my eyes past the potties I realized we were in a beautiful canyon with the Poudre river running just a few yards away. It was gorgeous.<br /><br />But it didn't take long to realize it was also freezing. It was in the thirties still so everyone headed to the tent to huddle and wait for an hour or so until the race started. Before long I met a group of women who were very friendly and fun to talk to. Once again I was honored to be in such a diverse group of amazing people. I don't know why but it seems like most people I meet at races are exceptional.<br /><br />The time flew and pretty soon I was in line for one last restroom stop. The butterflies came back but it was a thrilling feeling. Runners started heading down the road to the starting line as one big herd of people. I positioned myself toward the back of the herd since I knew I'd be running slow and steady.<br /><br />Finally, it was time. Slowly, the first half of the pack pulled out and the rest of us started jogging up to the starting line. Hoots and hollers went out from the runners and the police escorts cleared the road ahead. Not that there was much traffic out there yet. I turned on my tunes to what I'd decided on as the perfect starting song: Halo, by Beyonce. It had an anthem-like beginning and seemed fitting. This was it. No turning back now!<br /><br />The crowd of runners thinned out over the first couple of miles as the fast people made the most of the downhill beginning. It was touted as the fastest course in Colorado with 1200 feet of elevation drop. Most of that happened in the first four miles or so. Funny how fast the miles go by when you have gravity on your side. But even though I felt like tearing up the downhill part, I bided my time and paced myself, afraid I'd burn out too early.<br /><br />I normally don't drink energy drinks or eat power bars when I run but they really made a difference for me that day. Things were just clipping along when I saw the road sign. 'Fort Collins 10 Miles.' Well that's funny, I thought. Ft. Collins is where <em>I'm</em> going. Ten more miles, huh? Once again I was jarred by the reality of how far I was trying to go. I tried to suppress the slight panic that rose for a moment. One mile at a time. That was my mantra.<br /><br />It was a scenic route and that helped the time go by. We ran past picturesque farms with horses stomping around, dogs barking and the smell of the country. Some good smells, some not so good smells. Volunteers handed out sports drinks every two miles and there were more potties at each station. It was a very organized race. <br /><br />But the funnest part was when we ran by the crowds that had gathered at various points to cheer us on and support their friends and family. People had cowbells and children gave high-fives. I still remember one woman who was standing quietly on the side of the road. When I passed her she made eye contact and quietly said, "Good job." That was at about mile four and just hearing those two words got me through the next couple of miles easily. I don't know what it is about encouragement from strangers, but it is powerful. At least for me.<br /><br />At mile six there was finally an uphill stretch. I'd been training on hills more than on distance for the last few months and I felt a surge of pride as I topped the hill without even slowing my pace. There were more volunteers up there to hand out drinks and they were dressed as clowns. Very random. I couldn't say enough good things about the volunteers all along the route that day. They were fun and enthusiastic and really made my day.<br /><br />When mile eight came and went I realized I was in uncharted territory. The good news was I was feeling just great. It's true how race day adrenaline and excitement can really get you through. I started to think crazy thoughts like, "I think I'm actually going to do this!" followed by the other voice in my head, "Shut up. You still have four miles to go. Wait, make that five. Eight plus four is twelve. And you are going thirteen. That leaves five so calm down, sister..." <br /><br />I couldn't believe I wasn't in pain. I couldn't believe it almost seemed easy. But I tried to stuff those over-confident thoughts down deep so I wouldn't mess up my head. Soon we were closer to town and it was a very level course. We ran through a park and over a bridge. By then some of the elite marathoners had caught up with us and were passing us. Keep in mind that they only started an hour before we did. I was in awe as they breezed past me, their sinewy legs in an almost full sprint. Amazing what the human body is capable of.<br /><br />Mile nine, mile ten, mile eleven. I started feeling it. My feet had pretty much gone numb a few miles back except for the blister that was rising. So what, I told myself. It's not like I have a bone sticking out. It's just a blister for heaven's sake. Some people had already started walking around mile seven so I was feeling pretty good about keeping up my pace. I also felt like if I stopped running I'd never be able to start again.<br /><br />As we got closer to the end, emotions started welling up in me. I couldn't <em>believe</em> I was going to do it. Thirteen miles. Make that thirteen point one miles. I thought back to just two years earlier when I first started running and could barely make it down the street. I remembered how I used to loathe running and be annoyed by people who loved it. I picked up my pace.<br /><br />One of the most inspiring sights I saw during the last part of the race was a man who had to be at least seventy-five or older, trudging along. His head of white hair was tucked and his eyes seemed to be almost closed. I could see it was taking everything he had but he was not going to stop. <br /><br />After passing the twelve mile mark I grabbed one last cup of water, gulped it down and tossed it in the trash. The last mile. No freaking way. I started scrolling through my music to find the right song for the finish. Steve Perry's voice rang out singing, "Don't stop believing..hold on to that feeeeeeeelin'!" Cheesy, but perfect. <br /><br />That last mile was a long one. Finally, I came around a corner and saw it. A big sign hanging over the cheering crowds: FINISH. Is that really it? Could it be?? I wanted to savor every last step. I turned down Steve so I could hear the people. I ran across the last timing mat and suddenly, it was over. Someone handed me a medal and said congratulations and I stumbled out into the crowd.<br /><br />That was it. I had done it. How could it be? And what now?<br /><br />I sat down for a minute and gathered my thoughts. People were milling around eating bananas and cookies and eyeballing each other. The marathoners strutted around with their fancy 'Marathon' medals, looking down their noses at us half-marathoners. Okay, maybe they didn't but it sure seemed like it.<br /><br />That critical voice in my head wasted no time in trying to belittle my achievement. "Well it was partly downhill," she said. "And it did take you two hours and thirty-two minutes." But I put a stop to that right away. "Listen, bitch. I just ran thirteen point one miles without stopping. So shut it."<br /><br />On my way back to my car I saw so many happy faces. People were on their phones calling their peeps and one guy was even sitting on the curb, crying. I think they were happy tears. <br /><br />I called my family and made my way home, feeling amazing. It wasn't until later that night as I was wiping down the stovetop when it really hit me. I had actually done it. Then I finally shed a few tears of my own.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-69849981455038020392009-01-12T14:47:00.003-07:002009-01-12T15:18:27.916-07:00so this is it?It seems that for the last ten years we've been trying to get somewhere. We've been in constant motion: Changing jobs, changing houses, even changing states. Having babies, raising babies, trying to survive the babies and always trying improve our situation.<br /><br />On New Year's Day it all seemed to stop for me. Instead of being excited about what may come, I felt like I'd hit a wall. Like I was just about to live another rerun of last year. No longer were we trying to get somewhere, we had finally arrived at the place we'd wanted to be for so long. The place we'd worked so hard to get to.<br /><br />This is it. We've reached the point of inertia. We have all the children we'll ever have, we're in the home that we'll most likely be in until the boys are raised and maybe even after that, and my husband has the job he's worked years to get and will probably retire from in 30 years or so (and that's if all goes well). This is it.<br /><br />From here on out, each day will be very similar, and that's if we're lucky. Work, school, laundry, dishes, homework, bathtime and bedtime. Hanging out with friends now and then, a few good shows to watch on TV, a vacation here and there and before we know it, <em>BAM</em>. We're dead. And what was the point?<br /><br />I know I sound ungrateful but I'm not. I'm more than thankful for my husband and healthy, beautiful children. I'm thankful for my own health. I'm thankful for our home and my husband's job. <em>Believe me</em>, I don't take these things for granted. I actually love my life, I'm exactly where I always wanted to be. But now that I'm here I just think there has to be more.<br /><br />This just can't be it.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-10542203045773652872008-11-19T13:28:00.003-07:002008-11-19T13:46:11.194-07:00should i be scared?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cGHT81I2o1d5xh2TMFnR_uXJtfIvadUYYYEyj6wcnp2mONOYHJEh2w5MbgIDq9gPdyf1w0BoJsxWHNLXpNIUaxyV_cztn_kNN5C65Hl6OahC0lW6Gj19-qZt45GoINFspTNU0A/s1600-h/winter+2008+005.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cGHT81I2o1d5xh2TMFnR_uXJtfIvadUYYYEyj6wcnp2mONOYHJEh2w5MbgIDq9gPdyf1w0BoJsxWHNLXpNIUaxyV_cztn_kNN5C65Hl6OahC0lW6Gj19-qZt45GoINFspTNU0A/s400/winter+2008+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270468492921905874" /></a><br /><br />This is a hand-drawn picture of the guy Cooper claims to see lurking around our backyard these days. Note the pink reptillian eyes, the tiny black wings, the bony legs. Totally creepy. <br /><br />But the strange thing is, it doesn't freak him out. He completely believes this guy exists but when he "sees" him he just comes in and says, "I saw that guy in the backyard again. You know, the black guy with pink eyes." Like it's no big deal. When he first described him to me I asked why he wasn't screaming when he saw something so scary. He just shrugged and walked away. <br /><br />I guess that's what it's like to be four. You see things peer around trees while you're on your swingset and they are just another part of the big, strange world you live in. And when you believe your big, strong Dad can protect you from anything, I guess a skinny, pink-eyed creature in your backyard wouldn't seem so bad anyway.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-23382262445661736872008-10-23T22:30:00.014-06:002009-07-09T15:09:41.542-06:00two americasThere's a theory floating around out there that there are actually "Two Americas," one in which opportunity reigns and the other in which people still live under oppression. I personally don't there are two Americas in that context but I do see a division that I don't think can be overcome.<br /><br />Some may remember how a few months ago Senator Biden proposed a plan in which Iraq would be split into two or three sections since the Sunnis and Shias and what not could not live together in peace. Obviously, as far as Iraq was concerned, that was a retarded idea. It has since been proven that the Iraqis can get along (even though the American media has decided not to report that story). Anyway, I thought I might steal Biden's idea and try it out here in the good ol' USA, because as I see it our country is so divided there's no way we can co-exist in peace any longer.<br /><br />In my proposed plan, we'll take the West coast and call it <em>Amer</em> and the East Coast will from here on be referred to as <em>Ica</em>. Everyone who leans to the left can migrate toward the West and the right, to the East. Makes sense to me.<br /><br />I'd now like to paint a portrait of what each new country would look like. <br /><br />In Amer, the Liberal nation, anything goes. Since people who choose to live in Amer don't want to feel guilty over anything but things that happened at least a hundred years ago, there is no right or wrong. Moral relativism reigns. <br /><br />As far as abortion goes, they are free, paid for by the government. Not only can they be performed at any time during a pregnancy, they can be performed up to a year <em>after</em> a baby is born because as any mother knows, that first year is a son-of-a-bitch and there's <em>no way</em> a newborn could be considered "viable" anyway. The way they completely rely on their parents for food, shelter and love, how dare they? It's just plain unreasonable.<br /><br />As for borders in Amer, there are none, except the one that exists right down the middle, between Amer and Ica. They allow a free flow of immigrants from the North and South, West- but not East because of those darn Icas. Since people who live in Amer are ever so compassionate and morally superior, they are thrilled to pay for the education, health care and incarcerations of the people who flow into their fledgling country. It makes them feel like good people (especially after the whole baby killing thing). And who cares if the new people assimilate by learning the language of everyone else??? It's not nice to expect that of them.<br /><br />When it comes to the military, the Amers have none. A military force is way too aggressive and powerful and might just offend other countries who might like the Amers. Being liked is of the utmost importance. They'd rather get bombed by terrorists and win the pity of the world than defend themselves. And besides, even if they wanted a military it'd be hard to find any men to join since they'd all be castrated. Anyone knows that in order to lift women up, you must tear men down, and what better way than to cut off their manhood??? Duh.<br /><br />Amers have all faith in their government, to whom they've surrendered all personal responsibilty and power. They own no guns, no property and pay their entire paychecks to the government directly. Direct deposit, even, it makes it <em>soooo</em> much easier.<br /><br />Things in Amer look pretty good for a while. They don't mind hearing about the Icas on the other side of the barbed wire fence, who are prospering and thriving. The Amers have done away with all traditional ways. There is no more marriage and no more God. It's just fun from here on out!<br /><br />But as anyone with common sense could predict, the fun soon wears thin. The Amers soon find themselves bankrupt. Who would have though that unlimited government programs with unlimited population growth wouldn't work? Especially when no one's working any more. Why work when the government takes it all? And why work when the government will take care of <em>you</em>??? <br /><br />Soon they are overtaken by the <em>barbarians</em> from France and forced to learn a new language. No fair!! The Amers are completely perplexed as to where they went wrong. But logic and reason are not their strong suit. They prefer to <em>feel</em> everything, and they do feel so very deeply. God bless 'em.<br /><br />And God bless Ica.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-35940535938273142402008-09-17T11:51:00.003-06:002008-09-17T13:03:09.928-06:00second chanceAll summer I'd been meaning to sign up for a race but with our move and the boys starting school in July, the time just slipped by. Finally, last weekend I was able to give it another try. <br /><br />It was the exact race I ran last Fall, complete with the hills and noon start time. But this time I felt much more prepared. I'd been training on the steep trails that wind through our neighborhood and even been able to work my distance up to eight miles, so a 5K seemed a lot less intimidating. I'd also bought myself a white hat to reflect the hot sun from my head.<br /><br />As I checked in and pinned the bib on my shirt and timing chip on my shoe, I felt so excited to be there. Races are just so much fun. The loud music playing, the runners getting warmed up, it's like a party really. And I'm always so impressed with the other runners. I saw people in their seventies and even eighties who were in much better shape than I am. They were tan, sinewy and strong. I was also impressed with the young moms who ran the race pushing their babies along in strollers with them. That is <em>hard</em>!<br /><br />The moment we'd been anticipating finally came and the race was on. This time I had positioned myself toward the back of the crowd because I hate to be in the way and I hate to get passed. I also didn't try to start out at a sprint like I did last time, instead settling into a comfortable pace as we headed down the first hill.<br /><br />At first, people were passing me. A lot of them, children and moms with strollers included. But I knew the course and didn't worry. I was saving myself for the three hills that I knew were going to take these passers down a few notches. We headed up the first long, slow hill and suddenly I started passing people. Last year, that had been the hill I'd started to lose my energy on but this time I felt strong and solid.<br /><br />After circling a park and grabbing some water, I headed back down-hill and had some time to recover before I came to the next big hill, the one where I had given up and started walking the previous time. It was hot again, but my hat was definitely helping. I took the turn and started my way up. I could feel my legs fighting it but in my mind I was thinking: 'I am <em>not</em> stopping! I am <em>not</em> going to stop!' And I knew that this time I wouldn't stop. It was also at this critical point when my favorite running song came on my iPod. What timing! There was Coldplay singing just for me:<br /><br /><blockquote>Lovers, keep on the road you’re on<br />Runners, until the race is run<br />Soldiers, you’ve got to soldier on<br />Sometimes even the right is wrong.</blockquote><br /><br />I made it half-way up and was not struggling. I was even passing men who looked like hot, sweaty Marines. They were walking that hill, muscles glinting in the sun, but I was soldiering on. It was an awesome feeling.<br /><br />I reached the top and headed back downhill, and then came to the final hill. 'What kind of people created a course like this?' I thought. Sadists! But I dug deep and headed up, much of my energy coming from knowing I was almost there and I could do it this time. I was <em>not</em> going to walk even if it killed me!<br /><br />As I reached the top of the hill and the finish line for the 3.2 miles, there was one more challenge. A 100 meter race that started where the 5K ended. Rat bastards! Who thought of such a thing? Seriously? But I took a deep breath and sprinted down the home stretch, crowds cheering on either side of the track. Of course, they weren't cheering specifically for me, but for all the runners, and it felt great. <br /><br />I finally reached the end and stopped to catch my breath as someone cut the timing chip off off my shoe. I must have looked pretty hot and exhausted because before I knew it, I had ice for my neck and a cold drink in my hand. Race volunteers are just the best. After cooling down for a while I headed back to my car feeling like I had really achieved something.<br /><br />Yes, it was only a 5K and it's not like I placed in it or anything, but I have come a long way. Just a year and a half ago I could hardly run a half-mile without feeling faintish. I used to even say I hated running. Now, it's something I look forward to. It keeps me sane and helps me manage stress, control my weight and feel energetic. It is meditative and cathartic. And recently I heard of a study that showed people who run live 16 years longer on average than non-runners. Just another reason to keep pounding those hills. <br /><br />To anyone who has never run down a trail at sunset to see blazing reds and pinks behind purple mountains, then have a fox cross your path as you wipe the sweat from your forehead and watch a flock of black and white Magpies land in a tree by a sparkling blue lake, I highly recommend it. It will lift your spirit higher than you can imagine and inspire you to keep running on.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-52891761968395035922008-08-12T14:15:00.002-06:002008-08-12T14:28:09.943-06:00friendsAs I walked down the street with a mint plant in one hand and my son's tiny hand in the other, I felt a little apprehensive. We were on our way over to our new neighbor's house. A neighbor with a son the same age as mine. I'd met her at the bus stop and she seemed very nice, but still, it can be tricky making new friends. You just never know if someone is going to 'get' you. What if she thought I was a dork? What if she was a dork? What if she was one of those moms I can't stand who is way over involved with her kids? I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. There was only one way to find out.<br /><br /><br />I'll admit it. I'm very picky when it comes to friends. I'm hard on people and expect a lot. And I don't click with just anyone. I'm drawn to women who are smart, down-to-earth, and funny. Funny is a must-have quality. To me, laughing is very, very important. <br /><br />I've been blessed with many great friends throughout my life, most of them I still keep in touch with. There's J, who I've known since we were babies. She's one of the strongest people I know and inspires me in many ways. She's a marathon runner and one of the most disciplined people I know. She basically makes me feel like a slacker most of the time but I love her for it.<br /><br />Then there's M, a childhood friend who grew up on the same street as I did. We spent afternoons riding bikes, spying on my little brother, and hanging out at the local cemetery. I could tell her anything and she would not judge. That was the case 25 years ago and is still the case today. The girl gives good, solid advice and is one of the best listeners I know. She's also an awesome mom, no surprise.<br /><br />I also have fond memories of another childhood friend, L. During our middle school and high school years I practically lived with her for days on end. Her family was so much fun and made the best food. I would hang around until dinner, hoping to get fed, and thankfully they didn't mind sharing. We spent weekends out on their boat, water-skiing all day and then we'd go back to her house, sunburned and exhausted and stay up until four in the morning talking about boys. She still makes me laugh now, even though she's recently become a single mom with an enormous amount of stress to deal with. I hope I do the same for her.<br /><br />Once I got to college I met a new life-long friend, T. She was wild and carefree and got me to relax a little. Okay, a lot. We lived together for four years without a single fight. I still love to see her when I get to Texas because I know it will be just like old times. Never mind that we both have husbands and kids now, she makes me feel like my old self, back in our college days: Funny, young and hopeful.<br /><br />During my first years as a Mom I was very isolated and exhausted and I didn't really make any new friends. There were casual, play-date kinds of relationships but nothing meaningful. I went along like that for so long that I didn't even realize what I was missing out on. But when we moved to Colorado, a few new friendships were in store for me.<br /><br />My first friend in Colorado was S, the wife of my husband's co-worker and good friend. At first I was thinking I would be "forced" to be friends with her since our husbands were intertwined. But after one meal with her at the California Pizza Kitchen, I knew I liked her. She was simple, like me, and ordered a plain pepperoni instead of the other fru-fru food on the menu. Since then I've seen her become new mom to a beautiful boy from China. They are our boys' godparents are we are their son's. I guess when you click with someone, you just click.<br /><br />Another friendship evolved with a neighbor, J, who was a few years younger that I and up to her eyeballs in babies. When I met her she had one toddler and a baby on the way. But it wasn't long before the third one arrived. I went to see her recently and felt like I had taken a trip back in time to when I was completely swallowed up by the needs of children. With two in school I feel like my life is a piece of cake now. Seeing her flutter around, in constant motion: Feeding, cleaning, putting them down for naps, it was exhausting! It made me appreciate her more and also realize just how hard I worked in the last few years to get my boys to the point they're at now. I think it's a good idea to have friends who are older and younger than yourself. It gives you great perspective!<br /><br />My friendship with anther neighbor, B, kind of snuck up on me. We lived across the street from each other for two years before we really started talking. It turned out we were a lot alike. We both liked our space, almost to the point where we missed out on getting to know each other. With a husband who travels a lot, she is extremely independent. She inspires me by how much effort she puts into her two sons. She goes way above and beyond and also makes me feel like a slacker (join the club). She's also very funny and interesting to talk to, especially after a few glasses of wine.<br /><br />The most unlikely friendship started almost a year ago. Through an online website, I heard from my husband's old flame, C. She was the girl he had considered marrying before we ended up together. Even after years of marriage, I had wondered about her and been curious about the "other woman" my husband had loved. How could he possible have loved anyone but me? Turns out she is very smart, funny and interesting to correspond with. She's a stay-at-home mom, too, and loves to write. I look forward to hearing from her because I know she's going to have something insightful or sarcastic to say. We've gotten to know each other strictly through email, exchanging recipes, discussing politics and keeping up with each other's daily lives. It freaks my husband out, of course, but he's learned to live with it. You just never know where you're going to meet a friend.<br /><br />Sometimes it's someone from the past who you might re-connect with to forge a new friendship out of old roots. I recently heard from an old high school acquaintance who was on the dance team with me. She was pretty much the only girl I liked on the dance team. Turns out she lives in Colorado, too, less than two hours away. We had her and her family over for dinner the other night and it was so much fun. We'd both changed as far as being more outspoken, especially me, since I was painfully shy in high school. But mostly we were the same, even after 17 years. We're going camping together next month and I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other.<br /><br />**********************************************************<br /><br />My neighbor answered the door and we went in, our sons running off to play together without even looking back. We made some small talk about owning 80's houses and laughed about our popcorn ceilings. It didn't take long to learn we had a lot in common. She was an artist, too, and they had a house full of various pets. When I handed her the mint plant she gasped and said, "I was just saying I needed a mint plant the other day! I guess I should wish for things more often."<br /><br />As we sat in her shady backyard watching the boys play in the sand box, I realized I had been blessed yet again to have a new woman, a new friend come into my life. And a friend that lives just down the street!<br /><br />When I was a Brownie we sang a song that said, "Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold." I don't know about silver and gold, but to me they're all priceless.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-41871381496397832962008-08-10T10:09:00.003-06:002008-08-10T10:22:09.081-06:00so thereSome said it couldn't be done, it shouldn't be done, that is was just plain wrong. They held firmly to old-fashioned beliefs and were not willing to consider that things may have changed. <br /><br />Then there were those who said, <blockquote>"Go for it!"</blockquote> <br /><br /><blockquote>"You won't regret it!"</blockquote><br />and, <blockquote>"You'll love it, I promise!"</blockquote><br /><br />Thank goodness I listened to them and followed my heart. And because I was brave and determined, I can now present to you photographic evidence that proves....<br /><br /><br />IT IS OKAY TO PAINT BRICK! <br /><br /><br />In fact, if it's really ugly brick, you have a <em>duty</em> to paint it. <br /><br />Here's our fireplace before:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTLEeawjMtpix1zgVJbp9pntEBBJp_tlEzE0blx0MCqN_4QaJX3FwA9BLDOSFjh21mHVrVz__yxUTThPbUNpArNEdm9GDeWXD_i3NdA_GiNmwjwHx6ADA2GzPUEVrOgGZukTOOQ/s1600-h/summer+08+096.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTLEeawjMtpix1zgVJbp9pntEBBJp_tlEzE0blx0MCqN_4QaJX3FwA9BLDOSFjh21mHVrVz__yxUTThPbUNpArNEdm9GDeWXD_i3NdA_GiNmwjwHx6ADA2GzPUEVrOgGZukTOOQ/s320/summer+08+096.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232922378569177970" /></a><br /><br /><br />And after!!!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWy54I79VcKUSsHxBrPmN9wfVsoXj7AuoZt5GUzxvycy78zdYloqGm-n9wi1XvRNmGHC81AzbHbczD6rRb1tpgAaHctyuVpYs6EnB7YLhsJf4seFcyTk9DWwrveFH9iYPLGKqgTQ/s1600-h/summer+08+100.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWy54I79VcKUSsHxBrPmN9wfVsoXj7AuoZt5GUzxvycy78zdYloqGm-n9wi1XvRNmGHC81AzbHbczD6rRb1tpgAaHctyuVpYs6EnB7YLhsJf4seFcyTk9DWwrveFH9iYPLGKqgTQ/s320/summer+08+100.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232922381804181202" /></a><br /><br /><br />I rest my case.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-86223216973957507532008-06-30T13:15:00.002-06:002008-06-30T13:50:27.768-06:00WoooOOOoooooo!After returning home from work last week my husband started helping me put our bedroom back together after my day of painting it. I finished screwing the switch plates back on and put the screwdriver down. A few minutes later we needed it again but couldn't find it. We looked everywhere and then gave up and got a different one. A few minutes later I returned to the room and saw the original screwdriver laying on the bed. "Oh, you found it! Where was it?" My husband turned around and said, "What?" He had not found it and yet it was laying there in plain view and none of the boys had been around to explain the mysterious incident. His eyes grew wide and he said, "We are so outta here." I was laughing too hard to take him seriously. Once I got a hold of myself I said there must be a logical explanation. We just had to think like Jason and Grant! So after brainstorming, we figured out that we had placed something on top of it (a candle) and when we moved it we just didn't notice the screwdriver there right away. We were official de-bunkers! <br /><br />Normally something like a lost screwdriver would not cause such a stir as it did, but since moving to our new place it was not the first unusual thing to happen. A couple weeks ago, Cole came downstairs to tell me he saw dark shadows in my room and he was freaked out. He's not normally skittish and I reassured him that it was just the trees outside blowing around and there was a full moon so that would explain the shadows. He was not convinced so I walked him to his room and showed him there was nothing in mine. He finally went to sleep.<br /><br /><br />A couple nights later he came down again and said he heard strange noises. My husband and I said it was just a different house than he was used to and it made new noises. He went back to his room but returned within minutes and said he had seen the bathroom light turn on by itself. My husband rolled his eyes and walked him back to bed. When he returned he looked freaked out and said that the light really was on. And since Cole's room is the closest one to the bathroom he would have seen Clayton walk by if he had. And Clayton never turns on the light anyway because there's a night light. Hmmmmmm. I was getting pretty excited while my husband was already making plans to relocate. <br /><br />We agreed not to mention it and to play it down if it came up again. But the next morning I suddenly remembered that on the second night we were here I had gotten up around 4am and noticed Cole's light on in his room. I mentioned to him the next day that he had gone to sleep with his light on (which he has never done before) and he looked completely surprised and said he had not. Hmmmmm.<br /><br />The final freaky thing before the screwdriver incident was when Cooper asked me, "Mom, who was that in the kitchen with you?" to which I said, "No one. What are you talking about?" He said, "The man in the white shirt?" I tried not to act freaked out so he wouldn't think that was a great way to get Mom's attention, and he hasn't mentioned anything like it since.<br /><br />This house has no bad vibes or heaviness about it so I think if there is something here, it's not a negative thing. I keep turning around expecting to see 'someone' but so far, no luck. They say that when you have your first true paranormal experience you will not even be able to wrap your brain around it. I hope it happens to me and not my husband or we probably will have to move again. He's not as ghost-friendly.<br /><br />And for the record, I never let the boys watch Ghost Hunters or anything like it. When they ask me if I believe in ghosts I just say, "Some people do, some people don't and what do you think?" They just blink and walk away.<br /><br />Just the other days Cole asked, "How long have the Ghost Hunters been ghost hunting?" <br /><br />"About 10 years, I guess."<br /><br />"With no success?" he asked.<br /><br />"No, Cole, they've never seen a doggone thing..."Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-51315697757989732332008-06-24T08:51:00.003-06:002008-11-13T02:07:10.918-07:00snacktimeThe very first kid's CD I ever bought came with a book called <em>Howdi Do</em> by Woody Guthrie. Cole was just a few months old and I had not yet been introduced to the sub-genre of children's music. I popped it into the car CD player on the way to pick my husband up from work and was amazed at how baby Cole immediately grew quiet, listening intently. <br /><br /><blockquote>Howjee, heejee, hijee, hojee,<br />Howdi do, sir, doodle-do.<br />Howdi doosle, doodle-doozie,<br />Howdi do, howdi do.<br />Howjee, hojee, heejee, hijee,<br />Howdi do!</blockquote><br /><br />It was so fun and catchy and it has since become a family classic. They love to read the book and listen to the song over and over.<br /><br />But since then, the only children's music I've heard is either sung by what sounds like creepy ghost children in a choir or the terrible "Kid's Bop" CD's they advertise mercilessly during Spongebob. Twelve year-old girls dressed up like hookers singing Brittany Spears songs and making me very glad I have all boys.<br /><br />...Until this week. On my way somewhere (Lowe's' probably since I practically live there now), I heard a song called <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJBEVd1Dn9U">Pollywog in a Bog</a> by, believe it or not, the Barenaked Ladies. It was so cute and so catchy that I went right out an bought their new CD, Snacktime.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjV6ZH55BAc7sftjttGx3QedXFgD1VSBRzxiU-dkFBaokg4rl-_N2tf4NdnJ8Qu0nxhAR-QMeDHnb_l7tPUaQeGee3egQ8umJxKjxptWi6ifxq29vAKqmeFtiS_-pHH-4Ah7hig/s1600-h/CD.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjV6ZH55BAc7sftjttGx3QedXFgD1VSBRzxiU-dkFBaokg4rl-_N2tf4NdnJ8Qu0nxhAR-QMeDHnb_l7tPUaQeGee3egQ8umJxKjxptWi6ifxq29vAKqmeFtiS_-pHH-4Ah7hig/s320/CD.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215461975243988082" /></a><br /><br />It's a collection of 25 songs, written and performed by the band, just for children. The great thing about it is it's really good music, not just dreck someone whipped up to make a buck off an innocent crowd. The boys love it and I find myself listening to it even when they're not in the car with me.<br /><br />So for anyone who has children, or doesn't have children, if you want to hear some music that will make you smile and even laugh out loud, this is the CD for you. Just don't tell the little ones the name of the band like I did. You'll never live it down.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-2350233732495319162008-06-17T17:01:00.004-06:002008-11-13T02:07:11.371-07:00at lastSo we've been here for 11 days now and we feel more at home than we ever did at our last place after three years. This place is totally us. We love it. <br /><br />Moving day went well and the boys were thrilled to get here. When we left our old house for the last time I asked if they would like to walk around one last time to say 'goodbye'. They said no and ran to jump in the car. Even as I mopped the floors for the last time and wiped down the counters where thousands upon thousands of meals and snacks had been served, I did not feel one pang of sentiment. All I thought was if I had to mop those floors one more time I was going to burn the house down.<br /><br />When we arrived at the new place I made the boys lunch and gazed out the window at our new view. Then I turned on the radio and I kid you not, "Rocky Mountain High" by John Denver was playing. I hadn't heard that song in years! But it was so fitting. We were finally moving into our "Colorado house".<br /><br />The boys spent the first few days in the backyard exploring and catching bugs. One time Cole was running off into the open space and almost tripped over a barbed wire. My husband shouted at him to be careful and said, "That would ruin your day if you tripped on that!" Cole wistfully replied, "Dad, <em>nothing</em> could ruin this day!" Later on the boys got in an arguement over who would get to live here the longest. They were annoyed that Coops will get 14 years while Cole only gets 10. <br /><br />Buying a new home has its perks but so does owning an older home. For instance, I get my own mailbox at the end of the driveway. No more walking a block to open my little box with a key. Also, older homes sometimes have interesting things the previous owners left behind. Like a 6x6' beveled mirror in the basement! COOL. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4uPnbXmrKSN3Otq2HMG0oFunlLqlcFt1WxzTF1gPGGu-LLJzFPk456zUEgZgaGuGovV1uDpSahV055ogvWH6zamXxcowbbqloPh1uY7ZikxbMIXE_OPHa5Pc2rnfp-cI42HlyQ/s1600-h/summer+08+042.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4uPnbXmrKSN3Otq2HMG0oFunlLqlcFt1WxzTF1gPGGu-LLJzFPk456zUEgZgaGuGovV1uDpSahV055ogvWH6zamXxcowbbqloPh1uY7ZikxbMIXE_OPHa5Pc2rnfp-cI42HlyQ/s320/summer+08+042.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212993309600539266" /></a><br /> I've got to get the boys roller skates right away. But my favorite places are the deck overlooking the beauty and slendor of the Pines, and the lower screened-in porch. I can't wait to sit out there with a good book. Soon. It is summer after all.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFXfh7FLnxcuswNU839QK_75Yc4OjL0kl61dnwPHCzbbp-ibVRQ5AzufQr2LLo-Cgz-kFelhmyXCd3lo0Bc20kiwxysBzOcIPZVUo2Op9LhN5qZop_Dg_5zZj2YpMWKdpZbnzZA/s1600-h/summer+08+024.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFXfh7FLnxcuswNU839QK_75Yc4OjL0kl61dnwPHCzbbp-ibVRQ5AzufQr2LLo-Cgz-kFelhmyXCd3lo0Bc20kiwxysBzOcIPZVUo2Op9LhN5qZop_Dg_5zZj2YpMWKdpZbnzZA/s320/summer+08+024.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212993117906926706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9u1H6gCsSma-FtuiS3yUumw_SU3U2j7yGEirQ44B8qpuJz7W_3rMLi3pe3Xy9qkpFIFe699eltAL1UR6hh94J8YFAodC4NRcAK8Yp-hVkYxJECCyuSfBVSFlLGbpZ01RfFtNuw/s1600-h/summer+08+041.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9u1H6gCsSma-FtuiS3yUumw_SU3U2j7yGEirQ44B8qpuJz7W_3rMLi3pe3Xy9qkpFIFe699eltAL1UR6hh94J8YFAodC4NRcAK8Yp-hVkYxJECCyuSfBVSFlLGbpZ01RfFtNuw/s320/summer+08+041.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212993127807855602" /></a><br /><br />So it was all totally worth it. The packing, unpacking, mountains of paperwork, and other moving hassles. We've been in Colorado for three years now but we're finally home. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-Uh-BLqNoG0-w2s9HU4lwACD5bZ94ixevy9aaSIe0gF4PsNNOreQQTC4-VFd1pS5ErWw3Vd-XkEqiq3PB0uJsoECpyPSbpKUgAxoCOVPAxZDXa4YyrJb6SRWAnn0gfAAXGUXBQ/s1600-h/summer+08+035.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-Uh-BLqNoG0-w2s9HU4lwACD5bZ94ixevy9aaSIe0gF4PsNNOreQQTC4-VFd1pS5ErWw3Vd-XkEqiq3PB0uJsoECpyPSbpKUgAxoCOVPAxZDXa4YyrJb6SRWAnn0gfAAXGUXBQ/s320/summer+08+035.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212993258651289474" /></a>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-17930100423091368852008-06-04T15:55:00.004-06:002008-06-04T16:23:36.588-06:00timeAs fast as time passes these days, sometimes it's fun to look back and take a measure of things. Like for instance, <br /><br />~ 17 years ago at this time I was about to graduate from high school. I was barely 18 and had no real idea what to expect from college. I was still attached to my high school boyfriend, Roy, but itching for freedom.<br />~ Ten years ago I was a newlywed working at a mortgage company in San Antonio. Looking back I can't believe we weren't scared to death of our financial situation but I guess we were too young to know any better. <br />~ Eight years ago, I was days away from becoming a mom for the first time. I was huge, hot and impatient. I could not even imagine what changes were brewing. We lived in a two bedroom apartment and shared a car so that I could stay at home with baby Cole. It's one of the things I feel most proud of. <br />~ Four years ago I had just delivered our third son and we were living in Comfort, Texas. As far as we knew we would be there forever. Ha!<br />~ Three years ago, we were living in temporary housing and packing for our move to Colorado. I was stressed out, excited and exhausted at the same time. The boys were just 5, 3 and 1 when we moved here. And Cooper had a cast on his arm which he used to thump me with on the airplane all the way from Texas to Colorado while I tried to keep him still and happy.<br />~ Two years ago at about this time, I had just recovered from hitting rock bottom in a depression I now think had a lot to do with my hormones being haywire from having three babies in four years. What was I thinking?<br />~Just two months ago we were getting our house ready to sell and hoping for the best. Little did we know we'd be moving in weeks!<br /><br />And now the exciting part to anticipate:<br /><br />~ In just <em>three DAYS </em>we'll be in our new place and out of this one! There's a lot that has to happen between here and there but everything has gone so smoothly we couldn't have hoped for better. During the entire process of selling our house and buying the other, the only glitch that came up was when we realized we had somehow bought a house that had <em>no air-conditioning</em>. As Texans the thought had never crossed our minds that such a thing was possible so we didn't even check for it. To us it's like not having a roof! We had one installed and can't wait to feel the cool air pumping through the vents. Aahhhhhhh.<br /><br />The next time I write anything here will be from our new home...life is good.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-38224043664451426772008-05-26T15:07:00.005-06:002008-11-13T02:07:11.802-07:00memorial dayToday we attended the Memorial Day ceremony at Fort Logan Cemetery where over 92,000 have been laid to rest. It was a moving and sobering reminder of the reality of war and the true cost of our freedom. Once again I had a renewed appreciation for those who gave their lives during the course of many wars. There were few dry eyes in the large crowd as they played Taps, sang the National Anthem and had a fly over. The Governor of Colorado said a few words and it was concluded with bagpipes playing Amazing Grace.<br /><br />It was the first time the boys had been to a cemetery like that and they couldn't really grasp the concept that there was a person buried at each marker. It still blows my mind every time I see the rows upon rows of white stones. <br /><br />All I can say is 'Thank You' to the ones who have served and to their families. You are not forgotten.<br /><br /><br /><br />IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow<br />Between the crosses row on row,<br />That mark our place; and in the sky<br />The larks, still bravely singing, fly<br />Scarce heard amid the guns below.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnpNfuJ2VfhGRm9m_pzzO3xx5Nl5VSfazBEQKMA6_CGLXiwo8oFkW4HX2QMZWgKGRzyIYEh2q8zFllCVNqjquBAGH4kJTJZNsrYog4VYOCINtVxsessZzCEyE6cmSEWPshj9eNw/s1600-h/summer+08+010.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnpNfuJ2VfhGRm9m_pzzO3xx5Nl5VSfazBEQKMA6_CGLXiwo8oFkW4HX2QMZWgKGRzyIYEh2q8zFllCVNqjquBAGH4kJTJZNsrYog4VYOCINtVxsessZzCEyE6cmSEWPshj9eNw/s320/summer+08+010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204801007749014034" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We are the Dead. Short days ago<br />We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,<br />Loved and were loved, and now we lie<br />In Flanders fields.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQ6gl56vHa4daKUj4GEUG18KaDbc-pRYbHAxv16_pGAHADI6OAgmWft4Ec273g4al3dGzfv3EaT7uL69MhN0oO7dnLb7bTd-zzw37D0zXUgEjjfWi-fnjHbVWA0dz-tV2Xozw9Q/s1600-h/summer+08+014.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQ6gl56vHa4daKUj4GEUG18KaDbc-pRYbHAxv16_pGAHADI6OAgmWft4Ec273g4al3dGzfv3EaT7uL69MhN0oO7dnLb7bTd-zzw37D0zXUgEjjfWi-fnjHbVWA0dz-tV2Xozw9Q/s320/summer+08+014.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204801020633915938" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Take up our quarrel with the foe:<br />To you from failing hands we throw<br />The torch; be yours to hold it high.<br />If ye break faith with us, who die<br />We shall not sleep, though poppies grow<br />In Flanders fields.<br /><br />~Col. John McCrae<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv366HEslgzUOOoJElQ1hYyjqY21RrHhVt_-go3RDLbsEx7Q8aIse2E4d3t51CUS_XCNkc-m0i8w_WkpoLGm4ZJLqKSY8Jzz7lorpyhhFc34r_Uy7NMs3V_9MMRvRfdw83PaUL5g/s1600-h/summer+08+018.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv366HEslgzUOOoJElQ1hYyjqY21RrHhVt_-go3RDLbsEx7Q8aIse2E4d3t51CUS_XCNkc-m0i8w_WkpoLGm4ZJLqKSY8Jzz7lorpyhhFc34r_Uy7NMs3V_9MMRvRfdw83PaUL5g/s320/summer+08+018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204801024928883250" /></a>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-57876840537652789172008-05-17T15:44:00.004-06:002008-05-18T14:05:29.388-06:00childhood dreamsI'm in the middle of reading a book called, <em>The Last Lecture,</em> by Randy Pausch. It's about a man in his mid-forties who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given just months to live. As a college professor, he decided to give a "Last Lecture" as a gift to his children whom he'd not live to see grow up. It's a summary of his life and the wisdom he wanted to pass along. His courage and optimistic outlook, even in the face of death, is inspirational. He makes me want to follow his advice and consciously choose to savor each moment and every day. <br /><br />One of the main lessons he imparts is how important it is to hold onto your childhood dreams as you become an adult. He was fortunate enough to live out most of his, from working with Disney as an Imagineer, to winning the biggest stuffed animal at the carnival. His stories are humorous and heartfelt.<br /><br />My childhood dreams were simple. I wanted to become an artist and I wanted to fly. I used to duct-tape huge cardboard wings on my arms and run down the hills by our house on the Army base and I <em>swear</em> my feet actually left the ground at least once. But that wasn't the end of my flying experience. Years later, my husband and I were driving along a back road one day and saw some aerolight planes circling above us. We decided to find out where they were coming from and found a small, make-shift airport nearby. The people hanging out there looked more like members of a motorcycle gang than bonafide pilots, but they were very friendly. After trying to sell us some "classes" and having us decline, one guy offered to take me up for free. I shrugged and said sure. <br /><br />It was awesome. Because it was so light, it felt like riding on a flying bicycle or a kite. The plane consisted of a simple frame, a couple seats, a small engine and of course, wings. The air rushed past and as far as I can remember there was no windshield or any thing between myself and the air. He circled us around the airport and I could see my tiny husband waving from below. I had butterflies the entire time. I didn't even consider how bad it would have been if we'd crashed. That was before children so I didn't think about those kind of things back then. A few years later when we signed up for life insurance, it actually asked on the application if I'd ever flown in an aerolight plane. I guess it can be the indicator of a propensity toward risky behavior. I think I kept it to myself.<br /><br />As for becoming an artist, that road has been long and windy. As a child, I spent hours in my room gluing, cutting and drawing. My favorite subject in school was always art and I looked forward to class every time. When I chose a college, I was the only one in my family to buck tradition and not go to Texas A&M. They didn't 'do much art' there, so instead I headed to SWT in San Marcos as an art major. During the first semester I was not quite the star I had been in high school. There were multitudes of talented students and I was discouraged by how lacking I seemed to be. If I'd had more confidence I would have stuck it out and tried another semester of art classes, but instead I changed my major to elementary education. Big mistake. It was the first of a couple changes that ultimately led me to burn-out and drop-out of school. If I'd only had more faith in my artistic abilities to start with it could have saved me a lot of frustration (and my parents, too).<br /><br />Years later, after a few babies, I missed creating (art, not babies). I began to dabble in paint and clay again and it felt great. It was the outlet I needed to keep sane with three little boys under the age of five. Problem was, there was no real time to invest. I remember painting at the kitchen table as I nursed Cooper, his little arm reaching out to swipe at my brush every now and then. But I didn't give up. Every free moment I got, I grabbed my brushes and paint. It was amazing how short nap-times seemed to be when I was in the middle of a project.<br /><br />After selling a couple of things and getting positive feedback from family and friends, my confidence grew and I realized, hey, I don't have to have an official degree to do what I want to do. My validation doesn't have to come from a university. I love to create and I'm pretty good at it! Heck, I'm really good. It's my thing. Not everyone has boxes of paint, beads, clay, ribbon and tools in their basement. And not everyone get breathless when they walk into Hobby Lobby. But I do. <br /><br />At our new house, I'll have a 400 square foot basement to turn into my very own studio. It'll be my own little slice of heaven and the fulfillment of a childhood dream. To top it off, after months of searching and waiting, I found an electric potter's wheel on craigslist for a fraction of the cost of a new one. They are high in demand, believe me. I'm also doing my first craft-show next month in Colorado Springs to sell my glass and clay pendants. It should be an educational experience and maybe the beginning of "expanding" things. Things are moving right along.<br /><br />Recently, while ordering some business cards for my home-based business, I had to fill in the field for <em>job title</em>. I thought about it a minute and then typed in "artist". Hell yeah. <br /><br />Childhood dreams rock.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-17728072502775767922008-05-08T10:34:00.005-06:002008-05-08T13:56:29.627-06:00who knew?Last fall I walked into a conference with my kindergartner's teacher and walked out feeling like I'd had the wind sucked out of me. For the first time as a parent, I had been told that my son was struggling and behind where he should be in class. At first, I was just in shock. How could he be in trouble with reading? We are a family of readers. We read to our kids, we read in front of our kids, we love to read! The advice she gave me, to read to him and show him reading videos, were things we already did.<br /><br />After thinking about it for a few days, I calmed down and remembered that my first son had not really, truly gotten "into" reading until first grade. I could still remember his teacher saying that first grade is where the magic really happens. He said we would not believe how much they grew that year. And he was right. My oldest son blossomed last year and this year he's one of the best readers in his class. He loves to read and write. So what about his little brother? Could they be that different?<br /><br />I decided right away that I was not going to be one of those moms whose identity is so wrapped up in their children's accomplishments that they make them feel like they have to perform. I did not want to pressure him or send him the message that there was a problem. The more I thought about it, the more resentful I felt. I mean, his teacher was awesome and meant well, but I just knew there was nothing wrong with Clayton. <em>I</em> didn't read until first grade and I turned out okay! In fact, when I was in kinder, we took naps and finger painted all day. What is the big hurry these days? It seems like schools think that kids have to learn everything earlier, faster, sooner. Why???<br /><br />So the Spring-time conference came and the teacher had the same kind of feedback. She said he was still behind and just so I knew, they did have a "reading-recovery" group he could join in first grade if it came to that. Reading recovery??? Seriously? I wanted to say, "Lady, this is kinder ****ing garten. Chill out!" He's one of the youngest in his class and he'll get there!<br /><br />Boys' brains develop more slowly than girls so that might have been another factor, but I knew him and I knew that he was a brilliant child. He said and did things all the time that surprised us. Anyway, long story short, I felt more and more convinced that all he needed was time. <br /><br />Then, yesterday, as I dropped him off at school, his teacher stopped me. She said that she had just done end-of-year assessments and he completed them all with flying colors. He was exactly where he should be! Well surprise, surprise, I wanted to say. Who knew?<br /><br />This little exercise has taught me to trust my maternal instincts even more. As a mom I am constantly second-guessing my choices and judgement but this time I was right. I knew my boy better than anyone.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-76070684211408592802008-05-06T13:48:00.003-06:002008-11-13T02:07:12.874-07:00trees, trees, trees! continuedOn Saturday we headed out to our "new place" for the inspection. Halfway there, our realtor called to say the inspector was going to be a little late so we decided to stop by the lake to wait. It was a beautiful day and the boys were so excited to see the place they'd be living in for the next few years. They played by the lake while my husband struck up a conversation with an older man and his son who were there. After discussing Jeeps, fishing, children and a few other topics, the man asked why we were hanging out there. My husband told him we were waiting to get a house inspected and the man said, "Oh, I know who you are!" Turns out he was the seller of the house we are buying. Small world. We figured we weren't supposed to be consorting since we were still in "negotiations" so we went our separate ways and headed to the house. It was nice to meet the people we were working with, though. They seemed very nice and reasonable.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDmtsWkKyVqNkCd3aN56hiKHsu91ZEtKUTUL2RHjw5o7etbHLBw3rSJMmGvca-7zMM86u-YSk_-mo1re1kPU5U7dFVpaL-nP75MG_U9B1dKpaq8B7_zvx8fG6rOkl8dh27zwIfA/s1600-h/new+house+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDmtsWkKyVqNkCd3aN56hiKHsu91ZEtKUTUL2RHjw5o7etbHLBw3rSJMmGvca-7zMM86u-YSk_-mo1re1kPU5U7dFVpaL-nP75MG_U9B1dKpaq8B7_zvx8fG6rOkl8dh27zwIfA/s320/new+house+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197355555651073394" /></a><br /><br />Once we got to the house the boys did a whirlwind tour and made a beeline to the backyard. I could hear Clayton giggling giddily as he headed out into the open space.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDtfx8JZJUqIDLjtzwijoOZog_anHepqzNqt9tsLBkqjzVeQ6c1reDaE2e0v14m-HNodKyiBkqZ_2CMtw9xIODndrEc24EpQGdavOte7EFq3v8xuCUrjrZ43k25RJI9dVZop_Ow/s1600-h/new+house+003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDtfx8JZJUqIDLjtzwijoOZog_anHepqzNqt9tsLBkqjzVeQ6c1reDaE2e0v14m-HNodKyiBkqZ_2CMtw9xIODndrEc24EpQGdavOte7EFq3v8xuCUrjrZ43k25RJI9dVZop_Ow/s320/new+house+003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197355564241008002" /></a><br /><br />I started to think that letting a seven, five and three year-old roam free on thirty-five unfamiliar acres might not be such a good idea so I took them for a walk to explore together. We came over a hill and found a gaggle of little boys dragging branches and making a pile. They seemed surprised to see a woman in what was clearly little boy domain but they were very gracious and offered to show us some of the forts they had made. After following a small trail that was probably made by animals, we came to something out of the Blair Witch Project. They had stacked branches upon branches against the trunk of a huge pine tree. Our escort scurried up the pile and into the tree with the agility of a cat. Cole looked worried and said, "He's a better climber that me." I reassured him that in no time he would be as fast. He'd just never had the chance to climb a real tree in our old neighborhood!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivP_zzN3W9y7t-m3K5bLVKiqO_gE-4LklhmO0Hy_nSLM5DqiBee9CYBnSXRpN7i9Ekh2bBdW_gR5N2wzoFejZz3sH8lpYvPSOYQQJ9MMzydn96GAn6V1Dux5H5IOD5M9UXtiskjQ/s1600-h/new+house+007.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivP_zzN3W9y7t-m3K5bLVKiqO_gE-4LklhmO0Hy_nSLM5DqiBee9CYBnSXRpN7i9Ekh2bBdW_gR5N2wzoFejZz3sH8lpYvPSOYQQJ9MMzydn96GAn6V1Dux5H5IOD5M9UXtiskjQ/s320/new+house+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197355572830942610" /></a><br /><br />Before long, he was also in the tree and it took some serious threats to get him down. As we headed back to the house I could see and hear a couple more groups of small boys in different corners of the open space. It was a wonderland for children, ripe with possibility for adventures and projects. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3xs6YV_oowr43GYZXwWHEkxxhKSq7KX1eRctLOdjAuAqXVUXh-w6jIH0n8opFgsLs-11bKRgX51Nz155rUto-O2xeHIsJkTiYLQIdJiNMtzrGLk6ENLJ4V552F7G3hnTXu2CIaA/s1600-h/new+house+009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3xs6YV_oowr43GYZXwWHEkxxhKSq7KX1eRctLOdjAuAqXVUXh-w6jIH0n8opFgsLs-11bKRgX51Nz155rUto-O2xeHIsJkTiYLQIdJiNMtzrGLk6ENLJ4V552F7G3hnTXu2CIaA/s320/new+house+009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197355581420877218" /></a><br /><br />But the boy's domain isn't the only part of our new home with fabulous trees. One of my favorite things about the house is the huge Ponderosa right outside the kitchen window. It seems to be standing guard, protecting the house.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjaSv4AnmxpK6z6R74VHFQFiTwL2EYc3wDe6Dei7DCeYjkMykjwY-mg8XIUQCk0KuvGQgolCnRYL1kOlHbFOPqRrbH3wDzMOKL6RGqdjBy8Hz34UfN-7i16aMS2UopppKJjHOK3Q/s1600-h/new+house+006.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjaSv4AnmxpK6z6R74VHFQFiTwL2EYc3wDe6Dei7DCeYjkMykjwY-mg8XIUQCk0KuvGQgolCnRYL1kOlHbFOPqRrbH3wDzMOKL6RGqdjBy8Hz34UfN-7i16aMS2UopppKJjHOK3Q/s320/new+house+006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197356071047148978" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoaa7jwFc5OM3vi8xR6QrBJ5p0avRfmq7KVkEXcc-FOwZGFcEyVhHWq_WzG0if6fZela9QFJOqPzZ8zswedc03h7ewNUpyi31wQXJUnonrVOpUKyhnguq_CHCKJyF0bJ83ss-Ag/s1600-h/new+house+001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoaa7jwFc5OM3vi8xR6QrBJ5p0avRfmq7KVkEXcc-FOwZGFcEyVhHWq_WzG0if6fZela9QFJOqPzZ8zswedc03h7ewNUpyi31wQXJUnonrVOpUKyhnguq_CHCKJyF0bJ83ss-Ag/s320/new+house+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197356083932050898" /></a><br /><br />Things are moving along in the process and if all goes well, we'll be in our new place in a month. It really seems like a dream come true.<br /><br />I think that I shall never see<br />A poem lovely as a tree.<br />A tree whose hungry mouth is prest<br />Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;<br />A tree that looks at God all day,<br />And lifts her leafy arms to pray;<br />A tree that may in Summer wear<br />A nest of robins in her hair;<br />Upon whose bosom snow has lain;<br />Who intimately lives with rain.<br />Poems are made by fools like me,<br />But only God can make a tree.<br /><br />-- Joyce KilmerNicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-69942568288853163542008-04-29T09:39:00.004-06:002008-11-13T02:07:13.130-07:00trees, trees, trees!One thing that's possibly more fun and nerve-racking than ghost hunting is house hunting. We've been looking at listings online for months (actually, years, but only seriously for months) and Sunday was the day we finally got to see things in person.<br /><br />On Thursday of last week a new house came on the market in our target location and I decided to drive by to check it out. I was antsy because we had several more days to wait before the official hunt. I'd been able to rule out several houses by driving by them, so that saved us time later.<br /><br />As I came up the winding street I had a feeling. It was an older neighborhood with lots of trees and had a homey atmosphere. The description of the house on the listing made my heart flutter. It said it had 35 acres of open space behind it. A perfect place for little boys to wander. Also, it was walking distance from a small neighborhood lake. I saw the "For Sale" sign in the yard and pulled over to take a look. It appeared to be very well maintained and had a basketball hoop over the garage. I could picture the boys shooting hoops already. I pulled up more to peek around the corner and caught a glimpse of the space behind it. Trees as far as I could see! I started to freak out and called my husband.<br /><br />"I'm sitting in front of our house and we need to see it asap!" I just knew it was going to sell before we got a chance at it. He called our realtor to find out if we could possibly see it before our scheduled Sunday trip. Our realtor called back and said the owners were not going to show it to anyone until Sunday. Perfect!<br /><br />So I suffered through Friday and Saturday, the minutes ticking by and dragging on. I kept telling myself that if it was meant to be, it would happen and I just had to calm down. But it was hard. Besides, we hadn't even seen the inside yet. It could have been completely wrong for us.<br /><br />Sunday finally came and we made the rounds with the realtor. After seeing about eight houses we determined that that house was indeed the one for us. Our realtor congratulated us for the fastest offer after the fewest showings. We just knew what we wanted so we didn't have to mull anything over.<br /><br />Our offer was submitted on Sunday afternoon and we waited all day yesterday for word. Would they accept our offer? Would they have multiple offers to choose from? Would they counter? We could hardly think of anything else all day. Every time the phone rang my heart skipped a beat.<br /><br />Finally last night around eight we got word that they had countered. It was a fair deal and we agreed to the terms. We also heard that another family was going to try and get in a last minute offer if they could. Our realtor emailed the contract, we signed everything in record time and faxed it off. With it being official now, they shouldn't be able to take any more offers.<br /><br />But we're still waiting, holding our breaths, to hear more confirmation that it's really, truly ours. Obviously, at this point in the game there are tons of things that could go wrong. But if it's meant to be, it will happen. And then we'll have the yard we have been dreaming of for years. A perfect place for childhood memories just waiting to be made.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzzK-o5FuPn5XT4qSzZRULdmLuLfdH2hxbYMgGMZz0nT4yujwaCVWbkeA2pa_MvyHDo-40pS5j203OFAG_9w-SuduFpN9NBYlkCgt-3wmo-2bjmLa_w1hDLJV6aV-c1o7uPIUSw/s1600-h/front+yard.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzzK-o5FuPn5XT4qSzZRULdmLuLfdH2hxbYMgGMZz0nT4yujwaCVWbkeA2pa_MvyHDo-40pS5j203OFAG_9w-SuduFpN9NBYlkCgt-3wmo-2bjmLa_w1hDLJV6aV-c1o7uPIUSw/s320/front+yard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194698478428370258" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RW2mUJiG1BlFUUqwPuheapw98n1w6KhXMWfi5LwzXWwHHJz_RasysyzdnNbgGevzosT6701YMQkQ2zoG5Ew5Au-1QHGvfL-lhdWw7J0cqW-F6tGsIn0MT1eRDFJn8LEh9vB1mQ/s1600-h/back+yard.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RW2mUJiG1BlFUUqwPuheapw98n1w6KhXMWfi5LwzXWwHHJz_RasysyzdnNbgGevzosT6701YMQkQ2zoG5Ew5Au-1QHGvfL-lhdWw7J0cqW-F6tGsIn0MT1eRDFJn8LEh9vB1mQ/s320/back+yard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194698482723337570" /></a>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-55412626819423716082008-04-20T19:07:00.006-06:002008-04-21T12:59:09.535-06:00answered prayerSometimes the answer to a prayer comes in time. Sometimes a little and sometimes a <em>lot</em>. Sometimes the answer is a gracious <em>Yes</em>, but then sometimes, for reasons unknown, the answer is <em>No</em>. Whether I like it or not. <br /><br />Sometimes prayers are answered in subtle ways. And then there are the times that always shock me for some reason, the times when a prayer is answered immediately and so clearly that I have no doubt in my mind it was from above. <br /><br />For the last few weeks I've been wearing myself out. I've been cleaning, organizing, packing and yes, praying, the get ready for the sale of our house. I've had the carpets shampooed, I have scrubbed the bathrooms 'til they shine, I've wiped down the baseboards and windows. Heck, I've even <em>dusted our lightbulbs</em>, people. I've made multiple trips to various nurseries and spent a lot of money on plants and flowers to brighten up our yard so that the 'target buyer' will walk in and be so amazed at the cleanliness and beauty that is our house, they will make a full price offer on the spot. <br /><br />I am exhausted. <br /><br />So, after all this work, all this effort, guess who bought our house? A cash buyer from out-of-state who has never even laid eyes on the place. Hahaha! Once again I can hear God laughing at all my plans and schemes because once again, His were even better! He sent us a buyer who is qualified, motivated, flexible and reasonable! We can move out whenever we find a new place because he's not on a deadline to move in. We could not have imagined a more perfect situation. <br /><br />So to anyone out there who sent prayers our way, thank you. They have been answered.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-26186332323924871352008-04-14T13:14:00.004-06:002008-04-14T14:17:25.339-06:00home sweet homeThis week is the week we've been talking about for years. The week when we'll bite the bullet, take the plunge and in a grand effort to get out of the 'burbs once and for all, list our house! Over the last few weeks I've been purging our closets, touching up paint and even refinishing the banister. This place was pristine when we moved in due to the former owners being child-free, and our family has taken its toll. Believe me.<br /><br />With all the preparations, all the hoping for a great buyer right out of the gates, yesterday was the first time I felt a pang of sentiment about this place and realized I had never paid proper homage to it, as I did with <a href="http://nicoleguacamole.blogspot.com/2006/03/our-first-house.html">our first house</a>. So here it is...<br /><br />***********************************************************<br /><br />When my husband accepted the new job that would take us out-of-state, I had very mixed emotions. Our children were really just babies, at 5, 3 and 1, and we had been making plans to live very close to my parents and two of my best friends in the world. So when the plans changed, I was not exactly thrilled. <br /><br />We were already living in temporary housing since we had sold our home and were in the process of building another, so that gave us some flexibility, thank goodness. I started doing realtor.com searches in Colorado to get a feel for the housing market. I almost fell over! The houses were three times as much as in Texas and for less space. We had been in a 100 year-old house on half an acre and it looked like we were going to end up in a cookie-cutter house with no yard. Once again, I was not thrilled.<br /><br />To make things even more dramatic, we had just one weekend to find a place. I became obsessive, making lists of MLS#'s I wanted to see once we arrived. I felt like hyperventilating every time one of my listings disappeared before our trip. Thank goodness we had a great realtor who took charge.<br /><br />My husband flew up a day earlier than I because of the kid situation. I called him all day asking if he had found us a place. He sounded disoriented and said he'd seen so many places he couldn't even remember any of them. That made me even crazier. I had no control in the situation at all. I flew up a day later and recall seeing a rainbow from the plane window as we were landing at the Denver airport. I took it as a sign.<br /><br />The next morning, the realtor came to get us and start the hunt. My husband was absolutely right. We saw dozens of houses and they were basically all the same. Nothing really jumped out at us. I had been praying that we would "know it" when we found the right place and so far my prayer was not being answered. <br /><br />By the end of the day we were exhausted but had managed to narrow it to one or two that would work for us. Like I said, they were basically all the same so it wasn't a matter of finding the "perfect" one. We made an offer on one that had a good feel to us and was close to a school, even though it really was not big enough. Our realtor said he'd contact us in the morning as soon as he heard something. The same morning we had to fly back to Texas.<br /><br />We went to dinner to celebrate and then back to the hotel. I did not sleep very well that night. I think my gut was trying to tell me we were rushing things.<br /><br />The next morning the realtor called and said that the people would take our offer but they needed a 60 day closing. We only had 30. They threw out some weird options like having us buy the house but rent it to them for a month and things like that. We said never mind. From our past experience, the 'right thing' was never that complicated. That's when our realtor said, well, guess what? There was one new listing just that morning that sounded like what we wanted. <br /><br />He picked us up and first took us by a couple of the places we'd seen the day before that were "okay" with us. They looked a little better to us the second day since the pressure was on. We said we'd probably put an offer on one if the new listing didn't pan out.<br /><br />Then he took us to the new listing. We were the very first ones to see it. They didn't even have a sign in the yard yet. And the price was less that any of the others we'd seen. We walked in and after a quick look around, we "knew" that this was the house for us. It had exactly what we needed and was within walking distance of the elementary school! As we looked out the windows upstairs my husband sighed, "Look...we can see the mountains from here," but my mind was somewhere else, "Look, we can see the <em>grocery store</em> from here!" We each had our priorities and as someone who'd been commuting 20 miles to a grocery store for four years, I knew what mine were.<br /><br />We signed yet another offer, left it on the realtor's hands, and headed to the airport. We were doubtful that the owners would take our offer since we were the first ones to even see the place. As soon as the plane touched down in Texas we turned on our phones to check for messages. There was none.<br /><br />We rounded up the boys from my parents' house and headed back to our temporary apartment. Halfway there the phone rang. "Are you sitting down?" our realtor asked. "Yes!" I said. "They accepted your offer and have already signed off on it!" We screamed in the car and explained to the boys that we were on our way top start a new life in Colorado. They just blinked at us.<br /><br />After all my lists and lists and anxiety, we ended up with a house that had not even gone on the market until hours before we had to leave the state! I think God must have gotten a kick out of that. A good reminder that I'm <em>never</em> in charge so I might as well just relax.<br /><br />*************************************************************<br /><br />I tell this story to explain that although it turns out we are not suited to living in the suburbs, we have been very blessed to live in this home for the last three years. Although there were no new babies brought home here, no first steps taken or first words spoken here, this place is were we started our new life. A life in a beautiful place where we've been fortunate enough to meet some really great friends and create a lot of happy memories.<br /><br />Hopefully it will sell quickly and the next people will also love it and be more 'burb oriented. Then, we're off to find our third home together. A home with a big tree for a treehouse, a big yard for playing games and basically some fresh air and space. The home where we will finish raising our boys. I can't wait!Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-20893814206540727942008-04-07T09:16:00.005-06:002008-04-07T10:23:22.808-06:00super cooperYou just never know what you're going to get with Cooper. Sometimes he'll do anything for a laugh. The other morning Clayton came downstairs for breakfast and casually asked, "So Cooper, do you still have that popcorn kernel in your nose?" Cooper started giggling and said, yes, he did indeed still have the popcorn kernel in his nose. He'd apparently put it there the night before for the sole purpose of entertaining his brothers. I started to panic but then thought, 'Surely, he's just kidding. He couldn't have slept all night with popcorn in his nose!' I tilted his giant head back and peered into each nostril. Lo and behold, there was a kernel in there. I started to picture the trip to the doctor and the tweezers they would have to use to extract it, when suddenly I remembered reading something about that exact predicament just a few weeks earlier. With my husband's assistance, we covered his mouth, his empty nostril, and told him to blow out hard. Poof! Out it came. We discarded the offending object and ranted and raved for a while about how dangerous it could have been. To him, it was totally worth it to gain some respect from his big brothers<br /><br />He's not always fun and games, though. Sometimes he takes the moral high ground. The other day when I picked him up from pre-school one of his fellow classmates waved good-bye to him but he just ignored her. I said, "Hey, she's waving to you. Why don't you wave back?" He furrowed his brow and said that she had said some very "tacky" things to him in class that day and he was mad at her. He said it was so tacky he had to cover his ears to keep from hearing it during snacktime. I had to wonder what on earth a three year-old little girl could say that was so offensive to my son's not-so-delicate sensibilities. But he would not tell me. It was just too bad. I kept prodding him and finally told me, after warning me once again how bad it was. He said that she said.....'Grandma's underpants.' I could not help myself and burst out laughing. He was not amused. <br /><br />We're also surprised by him in other ways. The other night we went for a walk down the trails that wind through our neighborhood. On the way back, Cooper was tired so he rode on his Dad's shoulders. My other two boys challenged me to a race and I beat them again and again. They don't quite know how to pace themselves yet. After watching all this, Cooper asked to get down and race with us. On your marks, get set, go! We set off down the trails together. It wasn't long before the older two sprinted themselves out and had to stop and rest. But Cooper kept running. And running. I was right behind him and he was not running slowly. He was actually going about the pace I usually run at. It was so funny seeing his little arms pumping and his little feet slapping the ground. He had really good form. I said, "If you need to take a break, it's okay!" But he said no, he was fine. He wasn't even out of breath! I could not believe how far he went. We went up hills and down hills until finally, he stopped at a bench that was the designated finish line. He'd run at least a quarter of a mile easily.<br /><br />"Mom, are there running shoes?" he asked, pointing to his feet. <br /><br />"They are now!" I said. <br /><br />Who knows what's in store for Cooper. I can't wait to see.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-40390710577042718162008-03-31T10:35:00.007-06:002008-11-13T02:07:14.223-07:00portrait of a thirty-five year old woman on a ghost huntFirst of all, to those of you who read my last post and didn't immediately contact me to say, "Hello Nicole, you're forgetting a FLASHLIGHT!" I will never forgive you.<br /><br />Now, I will tell you about my trip. This will be a long post so sit back, kick up your feet and be prepared. I'm still processing everything I saw and heard and feel pretty emotional about the whole thing. It really was a trip of a lifetime for me.<br /><br />At the retreat, they asked us to consider our motivation for taking time out of our lives and spending the money to participate in an event like the Spring Thaw at the Stanley. Was it curiosity? Thrill-seeking? Or soul searching and confirmation about the afterlife? For me, it was a mixture of all three (with time away from children thrown in as well).<br /><br />I met up with my fellow ghost hunter, S, on Thursday afternoon and after lunch we headed toward the mountains and beautiful Estes Park. The drive itself seemed to set the mood for our adventure as it was almost ethereal, the pine trees white with snow and a low fog hanging around in the valleys next to the winding road. We discussed our plans and how we might create our own paranormal investigative team and call ourselves the Colorado Rocky Mountain Paranormal Society (CRMPS for short). Yes, the Cramps. It was perfect.<br /><br />As the Stanley came into view it was breathtaking. I'd been to Estes once before but somehow missed seeing it. From a distance it was striking. A stark white building with a red roof, set back close to an amazing rock formation. We were so excited we could have burst!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZZifHJRJGK-9ckewg7W3QU7ZQie2vWwcaqalSkJOpPvDqq4jK5XSeO0NQUO3m75WPhZsH2EI7nmEk1_-ubGaVE81BXKxsR4xPEjA2Z8pXkJlEIm141guLr_gDvkoh3Vh4VDnTA/s1600-h/Stanley+026.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZZifHJRJGK-9ckewg7W3QU7ZQie2vWwcaqalSkJOpPvDqq4jK5XSeO0NQUO3m75WPhZsH2EI7nmEk1_-ubGaVE81BXKxsR4xPEjA2Z8pXkJlEIm141guLr_gDvkoh3Vh4VDnTA/s320/Stanley+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184002006245103314" /></a><br /><br />We parked and headed inside where we discovered everyone else had been as geeked out as we were and showed up exactly on time. The line of people wound its way through the lobby and we made our way to the end. We met a really cool girl in line who was there by herself from Houston. She asked if she could hang with us for the rest of the weekend and we said sure. We found out there were 200 hundred people there and the entire hotel belonged to our group for the weekend. I was really surprised to see that at least 85% of the crowd looked totally normal and friendly. There were only a few unstable/goth-like characters lurking around. The crowd was a demographic cocktail with people of all ages, education levels and socio-economic status. <br /><br />When we checked-in we found out we'd been assigned a room on the 4th floor, the one I'd requested. It's supposed to be the most haunted floor, where countless people have reported hearing children playing in the hallway and rolling a ball. After getting our badges and signing up for a ghost tour we went up to our room and were not disappointed. It was huge and had views of the mountains from two windows. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf9BJdHBQVw6cxnzeZSvSSoxv00np1tboXG3YDsiNS7dYDQmPb_IsIQNpeCXrj0rv42jYJMUYvPnPSijwCaA9vyEC_EiQuSHWVWOWeIt6MOcIYGxaF388RHfXVmJL_L04AxZaRDA/s1600-h/Stanley+064.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf9BJdHBQVw6cxnzeZSvSSoxv00np1tboXG3YDsiNS7dYDQmPb_IsIQNpeCXrj0rv42jYJMUYvPnPSijwCaA9vyEC_EiQuSHWVWOWeIt6MOcIYGxaF388RHfXVmJL_L04AxZaRDA/s320/Stanley+064.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186672337736881954" /></a><br /><br /><br />After settling in we headed down to the meeting room for the first event, a "Tech Talk" with the Ghost Hunters, Jason and Grant. The room was buzzing with excitement and when they came in you could hear people whispering, "There they are! There they are!" It was so cool to see them in person. Their talk was very entertaining and humorous and they really worked the crowd. Then they opened it up for questions. One smart-ass in the audience asked, "Grant, exactly what <em>is</em> an EVP?" which was pretty funny since they explain that on each and every episode of <em>Ghost Hunters</em>. It was also funny to find out that the Ghost Hunters and most people that watch them think the guys over on the show <em>Paranormal State</em> are a joke. When someone asked if they believed in 3am being "dead time" a collective groan went up from the crowd. Personally, I've always wanted to know about the experiences that triggered their interest in the paranormal and transformed them from Roto-Rooter plumbers to rock stars, but alas, they would still not share that with the public. All Grant would say was that no one would believe him if he told his story. It must be really wild.<br /><br />After the Q&A we ran out to grab some dinner and have a drink or two before the meet and greet/autograph signing. It was my 35th birthday after all so we had to celebrate! We stopped at a liquor store to grab some bourbon (who wants to pay full price at the bar?) and the store employee noticed my badge. After explaining to him why we were at the Stanley he asked me, "So do you believe in ghosts?" Well duh! I said yes and he just stared at me with a curious look. Seriously, who doesn't believe in ghosts???<br /><br />After returning to the hotel I gathered my things to be signed, grabbed my presents for the Ghost Hunters, and we headed back to the meeting room. We were near the front of the line and I was strangely very nervous about meeting them. My heart started to flutter and my hands were cold. Good thing I had drank me some liquid courage before then. Imagine what a basket case I would have been without it! We finally got to their end of the table and I handed them the boxes with the bookmarks in them. For some reason I'd thought everyone would be bringing them stuff but apparently they don't get a lot of gifts. I told them they should open them later but Grant opened his right away and was very gracious. They were the nicest guys. They seemed to genuinely enjoy meeting everyone and didn't make us feel like we were annoying Ghost Hunter groupies or something (although there were some there and I would <em>totally</em> be one if I wasn't married with kids).<br /><br />By the time it ended it was getting late so we headed upstairs for a couple more drinks in our room. I normally go to bed by ten so I was getting pretty tired. S is an insomniac so she was fine. After a couple more drinks we were giggling like idiots about how awesome Jason and Grant were when it dawned on us: we had crushes on the Ghost Hunters. It was nothing sexual, and of course we only love our husbands, be we were completely geeked out over Jason and Grant. The fact that they were both married with kids just made them more likable. And Grant had three sons, too. We had so much in common!!! <br /><br />As tired as I was, when I climbed into bed I could not sleep. There seemed to be a pipe in the wall next to me that would go: knock...knock...knock..knock knockknockknock!!!!! I was sure it was not a ghost but it still freaked me out. Our room was also next to the stairway and we heard people clomping up and down all night chasing ghosts. I slept in a semi-conscious state, expecting to feel something cold touch me or hear the children in the hall but nothing happened. I was a little disappointed and a little relieved at the same time.<br /><br />The next morning we headed to the 9am ghost tour with Billy the historian. I swear, the guy had to be related to Chris Farley. He had the same body, the same mannerisms and even the same talking cadence. He gave an interesting and informative talk about the hotel that gave us a good background. The Stanley is one of the most beautiful, amazing places I've ever been and even if it wasn't haunted I would put it on my list of favorite places ever. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwiwsEivUXHSqUuYOLGcg8XGoSv5ibc1Q_Z9Bu75fOazk4PXiZ0xsac1kw3o3WUTRYOjpDw1DdXIUsbl6sn8Q75LIo9cj2qac97QuHV9R9Evfas3Y6DG2yA2dgjuWH7we-kUxBkA/s1600-h/Stanley+019.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwiwsEivUXHSqUuYOLGcg8XGoSv5ibc1Q_Z9Bu75fOazk4PXiZ0xsac1kw3o3WUTRYOjpDw1DdXIUsbl6sn8Q75LIo9cj2qac97QuHV9R9Evfas3Y6DG2yA2dgjuWH7we-kUxBkA/s320/Stanley+019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184002023424972514" /></a><br /><br />The rest of the day was filled with talks from a variety of speakers. We learned about techniques for collecting and reviewing evidence from Dave Schrader (Darkness Radio host). Then John Zaffis told about his 30 year career as a demonologist and exorcist. We also heard from Chris Fleming, a celebrity medium who appears on the show "Dead Famous" on the biography channel. He shared some stories and experiences that were very intriguing. We got to hear an EVP he recorded at a place where Billy the Kid had killed two people that sounded exactly like gunshots. Then we had a talk from Adam Blai, also a demonologist, about how to protect yourself during an investigation. It was a later talk by Adam that really affected me.<br /><br />Because S and I were in group 1, the group that would be going on the ghost hunt that night, the anticipation had been building for us all day. I was feeling a mixture of excitement and fear. Thankfully we had time to run out and grab a couple flashlights before the big night (no thanks to you people). In preparation for the investigations they blacked out all the hallways on the second, third and fourth floors. When we made one last trip to our room to gather our equipment we gasped as we came around the corner and were staring down a dark hallway. Too bad they say you can't drink before ghost hunting. No more liquid courage. We took deep breaths, turned on our flashlights and headed up. Before heading back down we held hands and said a prayer together. It made me feel a lot better. <br /><br />Everyone was gathering in the meeting room so they could break us into groups. We would be investigating in groups of 25 in some of the most active areas of the hotel. Most of the people there were first-timers like us and you could sense the excitement in the air. We got into our group and were sent off to the first location where we would be for an hour: room 401. The room where the glass broke on Jason's bedside table and the closet door opened.<br /><br />Half of our group went to 401 while the other half headed down to 418. Twelve people is a lot to have in one fairly small room. We all settled into different corners and on the bed and started fiddling with our equipment. I turned on my DVR to start taping. S and I were sitting right by the closet door which was a little freaky. Then Chris Fleming, the medium, came into the room to get us started. Someone had a thermal gauge and said the current room temperature was 73 degrees. Chris stared talking to any spirits in the vicinity and asked if they could lower the temperature to make their presence known. What do you know, the temp started to go down. Within a couple minutes it was at 70 but he asked it to go to 68 so we could be sure it was with us. It went to 68. Someone else in the room had a <a href="http://paranormal.suite101.com/article.cfm/k2_emf_detector">K2 meter</a> which is another way to communicate with spirits. It's a simple hand-held doo-dad with lights on it. You can ask the ghost to light it up, once for a 'yes' and twice for 'no'. It's a controversial technique, but really, what isn't. We asked some questions but got no response. Chris had left the room to go check on the other people down the hall and after he left the temp went back up and it got boring pretty quickly. <br /><br />After a while that seemed like an eternity, someone came to our room and said, "Hey, if you're interested there's some pretty cool stuff happening down in the other room." It was like a stampede down the hall since we were getting itchy for some real action. But as soon as we tip-toed into the room we heard Chris say, "WOW. That was remarkable. Please send me a tape of that," as he was getting up to leave. Dammit! We missed it. From what we heard later, he had asked a spirit to project certain emotions on a person in the room and it had worked. He thought about "sadness" and a girl began bawling. Then he thought about "joy" and she immediately burst our laughing. I remained skeptical about that incident since there were plenty of people there that would have been willing to fake it to get attention. Believe me.<br /><br />Our next location was room 1302, the room featured on the show where the table lifted off the floor in front of Grant. We had heard that the night before the TV had turned on by itself in that room and Chip Coffee, another celebrity medium, had sensed a lot of things in there. For us, it was a bust. It consisted of sitting in a stuffy room with 25 people who seemed to be having gastro-intestinal problems and hacking coughs. Poor S had to sit next to a woman we had dubbed "Estees" since she was an Estes Park native but couldn't pronounce it correctly. She had a know-it-all attitude and bragged how she had been "studying the Stanley for seven years" yet she did not know any correct facts as far as we could tell. It's surprising how annoying people can be on a ghost hunt. Nothing happened at all in there. The ghosts were probably as annoyed and grossed out as we were.<br /><br />After that, we headed over to the Music Hall. It's a beautiful building where sadly, a homeless woman and her dog had frozen to death in the basement years ago. Guess who was waiting for us on the porch...none other than Jason and Grant. Grant touched my hair and said, "Hey, I like the pigtails," and I blushed like a school girl. Really, I am a nerd. He led us inside and said that when the last group had been there and asked for a sign, a table that had been leaning against the wall fell over and crashed to the floor, scaring them half to death. Finally we might actually see something!<br /><br />We went to the basement greenroom where performers used to prepare for shows. Grant started an EVP session for us and then left us on our own. Of course things went downhill after that. People could not be quiet and one goofy girl said she saw a shadow that was obviously not there. S and I were getting a little giddy from being so tired and spun up at the same time. Once again, nothing happened (except that Grant had touched my hair, hehe).<br /><br />On our way back into the hotel as we were heading up the stairs, the medium guy Chris came running down the hall saying, "Did you see her??? Did you see her??? She was coming this way!!" Holy moly. We never got to find out exactly who or what he was chasing. But he's psychic so he probably sees things we can't see anyway.<br /><br />The next stop on the ghost hunt was room 217. From the historical ghost tour we had learned that this was the room that had exploded years ago from a gas leak. A maid had been in the room and dropped through the floor. She broke both legs but survived and after that the owner of the Stanley took really good care of her for the rest of her life. It was also the room Steven king stayed in when he was inspired to write <em>The Shining.</em> According to the story, when he went to dinner with his wife, he returned to find all his clothes hanging up neatly in the closet (compliments of the ghost maid). <br /><br />It was in that room we had our first real activity. John Zaffis was holding a K2 meter and someone else was measuring the temp. We began asking questions and things started to happen. The temperature dropped eight degrees and the K2 meter started to respond. From the myriad of questions we asked, which I won't bore you with, we determined that the maid was with us along with a few children. She said she enjoyed working at the Stanley and liked our company. When we asked about her falling through the floor the meter went crazy. I didn't personally "feel" anything but it was really cool to see what appeared to be a ghost who wanted to talk to us. At the end of the hour the radio host guy pounded on our door and about gave us all heart attacks.<br /><br />Next stop was the basement. Now if you've seen the live Halloween special you may remember the creepy tunnel where they heard a woman's voice say, "Hellooo? Helloooo? Teeeheeehee..." It was one of the creepier things I've seen on the show. We were expecting great things from the basement. The funny thing is, it's really not that creepy. What you don't see on TV is that there is a sidewalk that runs right by the tunnel and leads to a fluorescent-lit employee office. I actually went in the tunnel, in the dark. It was no big deal. The same tunnel that when I saw it on TV I told my husband, "There's NO WAY you could make me go in there!" Now, I have something disappointing to tell you. If you've seen that episode, anyway. When we got to the basement, the radio host guy said, "Do you want to Hollywood version or the real version of what happened here?" Of course we wanted the real version. He said that after the live show had been taped, they found out that there were a couple of women that worked in the night auditor's office upstairs that may or may not have been messing the the Ghost Hunters. He said that sound can carry through the venting. But he also said that when they thought they had debunked the whole 'Hello, hello" incident, they heard a voice again and that time there was no one upstairs. So I don't know. It casts a lot of doubt on that incident but doesn't completely debunk it. But still, disappointing. Nothing happened for us down there that night.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2PF4cGxWB1tdmtH6jER9Ll8QVx2MgCcRUsPb2juuJZVgEaVJPCxGLw2tnUIX_t_zU_Jj529fFYYF5MKl4rSJXYjuwrj-DO50aLIbgt0k-oHA2fQLA6t4nBDA0BAcTFd6RV4N8w/s1600-h/Stanley+043.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2PF4cGxWB1tdmtH6jER9Ll8QVx2MgCcRUsPb2juuJZVgEaVJPCxGLw2tnUIX_t_zU_Jj529fFYYF5MKl4rSJXYjuwrj-DO50aLIbgt0k-oHA2fQLA6t4nBDA0BAcTFd6RV4N8w/s320/Stanley+043.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184002036309874418" /></a><br /><br />We were thoroughly exhausted by 2am when the hunt was over. We considered if we should continuing investigating on our own but were just too tired to focus. We still had one more night, after all.<br /><br />The next day was spent attending more lectures from different speakers. The previous day I had been extremely impressed with the speakers. They were educated, experienced and very credible, in my humble opinion. The second day was a little different. <br /><br />One of the speakers gave a talk about "Electronic and Photographic Spirit Communication." He appeared to be a really nice guy and the first part of what he had to say was very positive. But then it went south. He went off on a very long tangent about humans from the planet Marduk who colonized Earth before their planet was destroyed. He said that humans have been on Earth for at least 3.9 billion years. He got his information from spirits that he communicated with through his radio and from what I can tell, those spirits must be laughing their asses off. You could hear people turning their recorders off and trickling out the door shortly after he got to the part about Marduk. I had to pinch myself to keep a straight face and I was disturbed by the number of people who appeared to be listening with rapt attention, but I stayed. Turned out he's from Boulder. Surprise, surprise.<br /><br />The next speaker was also disappointing. It was supposed to be a talk about "The Stanley Hotel Effect" and how maybe the hotel wasn't haunted but instead the mountain under it was. Instead, he talked about crop circles for an hour. It was interesting enough, just not what I'd hoped for. S bought his book but when we got to our room and had time to flip through it she said, "Oh no. I won't be showing this to my husband after all." It had a chapter about Lizard People and a one about sex with aliens. He lost a little credibility after that.<br /><br />Throughout the day we heard stories from different people about their ghost hunting experiences. Some people there were using a "<a href="http://paranormalinsider.com/2007/10/franks_box.php">Frank's Box</a>" which is some kind of modified radio you can use to actually hear spirit voices. It's really creepy to hear and I've only seen it on TV before. The actual inventor, Frank (duh), was at the Stanley with us. One woman told me that she was in room 401 and got to talking to a ghost through the box. It seemed agitated and she asked the ghost what was wrong. He said he was horny. Seriously. He then started to go on and on in very vulgar language and made disparaging comments about women. They tried to get him to leave so they could talk to a different ghost but he wouldn't go. I asked her if she'd taken the historic ghost tour because I'd heard about a real SOB ghost named Dunraven who was haunting the 4th floor. In life he was a shyster who owned brothels in England. She had not heard that story and it really freaked her out. It kind of freaked me out, too, since I was staying on the 4th floor. I had already wondered if 'anyone' was watching me in the shower.<br /><br />After hearing a lively round-table discussion with the Ghost Hunters and other speakers, the last event for us was another talk by psychologist and demonologist <a href="http://religiousdemonology.com/Introduction.htm">Adam Blai</a> about the "Psychology of the Paranormal and Demonology from a Roman Catholic Perspective." I had really enjoyed his earlier talk and looked forward to hearing more from him. The people who had heard him the night before while we were ghost hunting said his talk was very powerful and worth hearing. They also said it was good that we had gone ghost hunting <em>before</em> we heard what he was about to say. <br /><br />He started out by explaining his credentials, his background as a Roman Catholic and his experience. He said he was not promoting his religion and did not discount other religions, it was just that Christianity was his faith system and was what he had seen work in demonic possessions. He was not there to give us a thrill by freaking us out with scary photos and stories, he was there out of concern for the general public and the recent explosion in paranormal interest. He said that basically, people were getting bored with ghosts from all the shows and were now looking to darker things such as demonic possessions. He had been approached several times to make a show and turned it down flatly. Disturbingly, he said it won't be long until someone does make a reality show about exorcisms.<br /><br />He then discussed psychological things that sometimes led people to believe they were experiencing paranormal phenomena when they weren't. From there he talked about ghosts and different theories on why they're there. His theory was that ghosts were human spirits who for some reason are 'trapped' in a purgatory-like existance, probably waiting for their final chance on Judgment Day. He reminded us that they once had families, jobs, hobbies, and even addictions just like us. He said that we should evaulate why exactly we though it was necessary to "go in a dark room, poke around with a stick, get a ghost to talk to us and then leave them there." He asked how we would feel if we'd been stuck in a room for 40 years and someone came in, asked to communicate and then just walked out after we did. He basically made us feel like big jerks. <br /><br />As someone who already believed that demons are real, I was not as shocked by the rest of what he said as some people were. But believe me, I was disturbed. He said that unlike ghosts, demons were never human. As a refresher for anyone who already knows this, when God decided to create humans, and create them as beings above the angels, some of the angels got ticked off and rebelled. Satan, the leader, and other fallen angels were cast out of heaven. They were not sent to Hell, but cast down to Earth. Unlike humans, angels are able to see the future and results of their decisions so therefore they are not subject to the same grace as we are. Since the rebelling angels were able to know the consequences of their actions before they made that decision, they were damned forever. So basically, they hate us and they have nothing lose. Not a good combination.<br /><br />As an exorcist who worked for the Roman Catholic Church, Adam had seen some mind-boggling things and although he didn't tell us even a fraction of them, it was enough to almost give me a panic attack. I really had to concentrate on my breathing to calm myself. I could picture what he described in my head and it was not a pretty picture. I was not the only one freaking out. He took a look at the audience once after one of his descriptions and asked, "Are you all okay?" I felt like saying, "No!" How could we be with demons lurking around out there???<br /><br />What he did was definitely a calling and not a choice. When he first entered the field his to-be mentor asked him if he had any children or pets and thankfully he didn't. The mentor told him it was best for him not to have a family at all because it was such dangerous work. Things come home with him sometimes. Because when you cast a demon out, it doesn't just disappear.<br /><br />He explained that demons can take the form of an animal, human and even a combination of the two. They can read your thoughts and even look like a dead realtive of yours. But they are not able to look completely human so he advised that if you see an apparition and don't know if it's a ghost or demon, look for deformities. Often they will have black eyes, white eyes or partial limbs. He helped one woman who was being tormented by a legless demon who crawled across her floor with its arms and into her bed every night. It was worse than a horror movie. <br /><br />Not only can they disguise themselves as people and animals, they can deceive us by pretending to be non-threatening spirits. For instance, a person may be communicating with what they think is the ghost of a little girl. "Help me find my mommy! I'm scared!" the little girl ghost might say. "Well of course I'll help you little girl ghost!" you might say. And by opening yourself up to the spirit you have inadvertantly given a demon a foothold. And <em>that</em> is why the Bible tells us in at least seven places not to communicate with spirits. Not to keep us from having a little fun, but to keep us from being destroyed and devoured.<br /> <br />Demons envy our bodies. Adam said that from his experience they even have a twisted desire to create babies and have the ability to rape. Their ultimate goal is to cause the people they possess to commit suicide. They are very, very real whether or not people or churches want to acknowledge it. I am absolutely convinced of it. <br /><br />There was good news though! Thank God! He said that the spirit world is very legalistic and governed by strict laws. Demons cannot possess a person without their permission. Well why would anyone give their permission? you might ask. He cited examples of demons making promises of money, power, fame and even sex to convince people. They would follow up on their promises but then pull the rug out once it was fulfilled. Then the person was stuck with a demon inside them intent on destroying them.<br /><br />I was so grateful to Adam for taking the time to share his knowledge with us and also grateful to the Ghost Hunters for being fair enough to invite someone with a message that might hurt their business to speak at their event. I think that really shows how honest and well-meaning they are.<br /><br />Needless to say, after the talk we decided not to go ghost hunting that night. We went back to our room, changed into PJ's and crashed out. I had not been that sleep deprived in a least three years. I was still edgy but slept until about four when S had to shake me awake because my snoring was out of control. I went right back to sleep but was awakened again at 5:30am. Jolted out of my coma-like sleep by a blood curdling scream. I snapped to attention and sat up, wondering if what I was hearing was real. I heard what sounded like a young woman in the hall outside our door hysterically screaming and sobbing at the same time. She was not screaming anything like 'help, help' because she was scared beyond words. Her lack of coherency made it even more frightening. It's what someone might sound like if they were about to be killed, I would imagine. I'll never forget how it sounded. S was up, too, and ran to look out the peephole. She said there was nothing there which scared me even more. Was is a screaming ghost? It had become very quiet and I did not hear anyone else opening their doors to see what was going on. What if someone actually needed help? I worked up my nerve and tip-toed out into the hallway. I could hear voices coming from around the corner and soft crying. I peeked around slowly and saw a crowd of mostly men standing around a girl who was in a heap in front of room 401. I think Jason and Grant were there, too. "Is she alright?" I asked. "Yeah, she was just a little startled." A <em>little</em>??? Do ya think? I wanted to get closer to be nosey but decided against it. Instead I went back around the corner and strained my ears to hear. "It was pushing back on my head," I heard her say. "Four times." She said she was so embarrassed for screaming. The funny thing is, they had auctioned that room off at the fundraiser, so she had actually paid extra money for the opportunity to sleep there. I guess she got what she paid for, a real-life paranormal experience. I got my money's worth, too, just hearing her reaction. That was good enough for me, believe me.<br /><br />So after yet another mostly sleepless night we dragged ourselves out of bed and looked out the window. Crap. There was snow. Lot and lots of snow. S began to panic. What if we got snowed in? What if we had to spend another night there? We packed ourselves up in record time, check out and hit the road. Thankfully, we made it home safely. Back to our homes, free of any spirits but our own and those of our husbands and children.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxnWBX-FipgU_XyrbCKZIcM3IyLBlE00AzFl0WuCQ8xGLIN5ARr2o4NBzr5cKW4avnAi7UAkWjlknIUEe2qqgpdOvy1slFCpjPARXx2kAlLBGG0pSsvjei8Z68p0xR9YbL1ezHw/s1600-h/Stanley+062.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxnWBX-FipgU_XyrbCKZIcM3IyLBlE00AzFl0WuCQ8xGLIN5ARr2o4NBzr5cKW4avnAi7UAkWjlknIUEe2qqgpdOvy1slFCpjPARXx2kAlLBGG0pSsvjei8Z68p0xR9YbL1ezHw/s320/Stanley+062.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186672320557012754" /></a><br /><br /><br />***********************************************************************<br /><br />What I took away from this trip is that ghosts are indeed real, angels are indeed real, demons are indeed real, and most of all, God is indeed real. I now see myself and other humans as spiritual beings more than ever. While in the midst of daily mundane, hum-drum things like washing dirty laundry and dishes, filling out permission slips for field trips and making grocery lists, it's easy to forget that we are more than the sum of our parts. <br /><br />I saw how so many people are starving for spiritual nourishment and looking for confirmation in places like the 'Spring Thaw' at the Stanley because in my opinion, they are not getting it in places where they should, like church. I know that I learned more substantial and important information in that one talk from Adam Blai than anything I've heard in church in years. Hearing his message and experiencing what I did on my ghost hunt made me realize in a very real way just what's at stake: My life, and my soul. We are precious to God and there are forces that would love to tear us apart. There is real spiritual activity and warfare all around us every day. <br /><br /><em>For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. ~Ephesians 6:12</em><br /><br />Now, more than ever, I believe. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBEfodW7A5pz6limmHgPd58cHnSYxQ-qQOXkdhZm0wBlPM9sii3l_gCvRrml1ud2BvbRuSYEoOF3a7Y9uKkyu_3SyFomv7SVngfoBO8a07fS3qAZEzew0_KpMy3Od6xCRRE5uJaA/s1600-h/Stanley+041.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBEfodW7A5pz6limmHgPd58cHnSYxQ-qQOXkdhZm0wBlPM9sii3l_gCvRrml1ud2BvbRuSYEoOF3a7Y9uKkyu_3SyFomv7SVngfoBO8a07fS3qAZEzew0_KpMy3Od6xCRRE5uJaA/s320/Stanley+041.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184111180018800386" /></a>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-63738485107833487692008-03-26T11:47:00.005-06:002008-11-13T02:07:15.606-07:00the stanley or bust!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_C8iCswz05GN6aUp6CjqYFzgeatc-Z3znxvSyOzQ_pYs6dSU3G6QkNJxuKEOoPH_-Mw1n1lIjJMnRNtV6oFYAMt0s5FlcwQhuJxvsgwnqs-SPt8gKxASDI8Xb0cl0Ou6gBbiJYQ/s1600-h/stanhotel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_C8iCswz05GN6aUp6CjqYFzgeatc-Z3znxvSyOzQ_pYs6dSU3G6QkNJxuKEOoPH_-Mw1n1lIjJMnRNtV6oFYAMt0s5FlcwQhuJxvsgwnqs-SPt8gKxASDI8Xb0cl0Ou6gBbiJYQ/s320/stanhotel.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182147121539110562" /></a><br /><br />I've never packed for a ghost hunt before so I hope I haven't forgotten anything! I figure, when in doubt, you can never go wrong with accessories. I've got my ghostie earrings: <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmfRhNgaSoUVN9xlMI6SNuO_NHzMl9bN7GI5vj329jI1B778rYhVGkGDoNSczxP-ZBcNP82htfCsPEDQwIyTjkFrekuvGIU-NlMqFfqT7SXFiELEpDik1ZfRs8N54Rc1ceT6tQKg/s1600-h/EtsyFeb208+179.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmfRhNgaSoUVN9xlMI6SNuO_NHzMl9bN7GI5vj329jI1B778rYhVGkGDoNSczxP-ZBcNP82htfCsPEDQwIyTjkFrekuvGIU-NlMqFfqT7SXFiELEpDik1ZfRs8N54Rc1ceT6tQKg/s320/EtsyFeb208+179.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182109038064096818" /></a><br /><br />My Stanley Spring Thaw 2008 t-shirt and fabric pen to get the Ghost Hunter's signatures on it:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpUKNbsHXrqbtvNjCmojiPmzFJDDVp3_vQQkY4pfgocEsTu8ADI3Z2ZNGiPYJUgJWNAci84Exto5ZpplIGdY7QOz0bfEIdwqogWFChIAk_aZzvHG-VHift1K4UN1fx_Wd-lbsLw/s1600-h/EtsyFeb208+186.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpUKNbsHXrqbtvNjCmojiPmzFJDDVp3_vQQkY4pfgocEsTu8ADI3Z2ZNGiPYJUgJWNAci84Exto5ZpplIGdY7QOz0bfEIdwqogWFChIAk_aZzvHG-VHift1K4UN1fx_Wd-lbsLw/s320/EtsyFeb208+186.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182109055243966018" /></a><br /><br />My St. Benedict pendant for protection (yes, I can see you rolling your eyes):<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPhVPbCL3C19_zVHphdXr01f5kQ0cE7RRO6V5N7Y1p6EeyxFe7PwoDQ_j4fukw3h0pxsPxJyM9-Oxyq3_Pe89exS4mO8SL6tXXGOjSHha8adACj-zctAwHFLhNaTq2h0JaOfMAw/s1600-h/EtsyFeb208+184.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPhVPbCL3C19_zVHphdXr01f5kQ0cE7RRO6V5N7Y1p6EeyxFe7PwoDQ_j4fukw3h0pxsPxJyM9-Oxyq3_Pe89exS4mO8SL6tXXGOjSHha8adACj-zctAwHFLhNaTq2h0JaOfMAw/s320/EtsyFeb208+184.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182109063833900626" /></a><br /><br />My digital voice recorder to tape conversations with spirits and what not. My compadre is bringing the camcorder and other cameras so I think we're covered:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgei8e-OdzQFbzexLKRpiIoJXAUIxn9EIg4HIGwPL1hDqTdv7iKIukp4X6dS8nzpA9UJABUIb0X00-suE8f2MsVVKAXdrDw17HiGnjhdDFVyz1kNlH2fmTgYDLXfFFJvcDy9e_ZtA/s1600-h/EtsyFeb208+183.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgei8e-OdzQFbzexLKRpiIoJXAUIxn9EIg4HIGwPL1hDqTdv7iKIukp4X6dS8nzpA9UJABUIb0X00-suE8f2MsVVKAXdrDw17HiGnjhdDFVyz1kNlH2fmTgYDLXfFFJvcDy9e_ZtA/s320/EtsyFeb208+183.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182109072423835234" /></a><br /><br />My presents for Jason and Grant...handmade bookmarks with Ephesians 6:12:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsR0OfZSZFvbNJXqwcFW9QzNSxaDXZTcN8ECMBlN4aMyPomYnZO12SNLOypKyKngvFnjO-E9Km7OtS3qUok-jEw_1q6dtrv5syRCXSournTpyJpipyAKu1Ez2SMJgFkNVTz2CVA/s1600-h/etsy+december1+023.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsR0OfZSZFvbNJXqwcFW9QzNSxaDXZTcN8ECMBlN4aMyPomYnZO12SNLOypKyKngvFnjO-E9Km7OtS3qUok-jEw_1q6dtrv5syRCXSournTpyJpipyAKu1Ez2SMJgFkNVTz2CVA/s320/etsy+december1+023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182164928473519810" /></a><br /><br /><br />They look like they read a lot, right? Well maybe they can give them to their wives.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXCEpJaFFPsIayut4332FzsCZdyfvrlVmPDvaQniGhc9aSemaTPs9cH600_H1ti2DYENxpvCSs8yc4rRIwUYSS62W-eJhLnQ-5fpdG77gJLjtbAwNUReroId_ZQ0q6SLsCyaLHA/s1600-h/taps.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXCEpJaFFPsIayut4332FzsCZdyfvrlVmPDvaQniGhc9aSemaTPs9cH600_H1ti2DYENxpvCSs8yc4rRIwUYSS62W-eJhLnQ-5fpdG77gJLjtbAwNUReroId_ZQ0q6SLsCyaLHA/s320/taps.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182147130129045170" /></a><br /><br /><br />Baby powder to sprinkle around in case of ghost fingerprints (hey, it works at the ghost tracks in San Antonio):<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeFclBAfFAO_ES7tRNCTkD-h3e1GE1Cf_mo7lJ3fCTJjwbkKdugZne28C0SKNmMPSHC356gT5-6q8NUogSpk1cvRyX7WBiBq8WoDXbjqip6nEcSIcUt8VOMK62fnou4CIgeHogA/s1600-h/EtsyFeb208+187.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeFclBAfFAO_ES7tRNCTkD-h3e1GE1Cf_mo7lJ3fCTJjwbkKdugZne28C0SKNmMPSHC356gT5-6q8NUogSpk1cvRyX7WBiBq8WoDXbjqip6nEcSIcUt8VOMK62fnou4CIgeHogA/s320/EtsyFeb208+187.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182109523395401346" /></a><br /><br />And who could forget a reliable night light:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9NGx_I58-Vn2fTCa0wPeNz0aStTfeVvcEgUyaOPdspZXQ3mWXk5ZVlaaLK1CAzN_dZTKuZljkabWBk7RtVUcXFfPBOY1Ucs0JYHiCCSLyNByqFe9a7yQuNSWAlec1lt-LdQsvw/s1600-h/EtsyFeb208+185.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9NGx_I58-Vn2fTCa0wPeNz0aStTfeVvcEgUyaOPdspZXQ3mWXk5ZVlaaLK1CAzN_dZTKuZljkabWBk7RtVUcXFfPBOY1Ucs0JYHiCCSLyNByqFe9a7yQuNSWAlec1lt-LdQsvw/s320/EtsyFeb208+185.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182109531985335954" /></a><br /><br />But it's not like I'm scared or anything!<br /><br /><br />I really hope to have some cool stories to share when I get back, but if nothing else, at least I'll be staying in a luxury hotel for <em>three nights with no children</em> so how bad could it be?<br /><br />I shall return! (hopefully)Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23053247.post-5034896143050264492008-03-21T19:48:00.004-06:002008-11-19T13:54:48.185-07:00ten years down, forever to goToday is our ten year anniversary but we celebrated last night because it worked out better for the family that kept the boys while we were gone. Months ago we had entertained the idea of going on a week-long cruise for this anniversary but circumstances did not lend themselves to that we so we downgraded our plans. Turns out it was better this way because we were missing the boys almost instantly and couldn't imagine being away for a week on a ship far away.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56rB-N8ZdDwhrvphIeWopCcwAv_4amyrg_BU7Oxs6_WoWBx87HKORU-uoSCDiByJNJo89hd-T31Q9IXVM6IseKWOj4rDKLoQfilTJ_gDXqG3TFadMUS3kY7PPhvVuFUyH2XqFhw/s1600-h/EtsyFeb208+166.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56rB-N8ZdDwhrvphIeWopCcwAv_4amyrg_BU7Oxs6_WoWBx87HKORU-uoSCDiByJNJo89hd-T31Q9IXVM6IseKWOj4rDKLoQfilTJ_gDXqG3TFadMUS3kY7PPhvVuFUyH2XqFhw/s320/EtsyFeb208+166.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180358413689214466" /></a><br /><br />Instead we stayed the night at a historic B&B in Denver called the Castle Marne. I found it online and was drawn to it because it looked haunted (I didn't tell my husband this of course- he doesn't go for that kind of thing). Once we checked in and were settled, I sat in the living room area to read the scrapbook they had with clippings about the home. Lo and behold, I didn't have to read far to find out it was haunted! There was the story of a little girl who knocks on the door of a certain room and when no one opens it she walks right through and transforms into a mist. Another story was about a crew of workers doing renovations in 1989 that witnessed the apparition of a little girl come running down the stairs, out the front door and into a stagecoach waiting for her. It then vanished. They even had an article that listed the Castle Marne on a list of haunted hotels in the Denver area, just second to the Stanley...where I'll be in just one week with the ghost hunters! Hot damn! I was so excited. I kicked myself for not bringing my new voice recorder to practice my EVP work. But I guess that's not exactly a romantic thing to do on an anniversary date.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58WzGM3xxqd9YrDNgA_e23RdreJwphZrGk-9RpibeP5Da2w-7rr0edxTAqOOuU_30GZf9e13QoA4U1yEJ8R-HNr7mE0q7YMEX3pJClga8MjEQdwKdp8nPnJaNSBaoz9bc8cIX7g/s1600-h/EtsyFeb208+165.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58WzGM3xxqd9YrDNgA_e23RdreJwphZrGk-9RpibeP5Da2w-7rr0edxTAqOOuU_30GZf9e13QoA4U1yEJ8R-HNr7mE0q7YMEX3pJClga8MjEQdwKdp8nPnJaNSBaoz9bc8cIX7g/s320/EtsyFeb208+165.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180358417984181778" /></a><br /><br />The B&B was beautiful and the hosts were so welcoming and gracious. Our room was on the third floor. It was described as the most private room in the home, which was true, but they forgot to mention it was tiny. The hot tub took up the entire balcony. Then we made the mistake of reading the journal they had out for guests to write in. ICK! You wouldn't believe what those people wrote! There were a few normal people who said things like, "We enjoyed our stay at the Castle Marne and hope to return soon. Very relaxing and beautiful." But then there were pages and pages of stories about what people had done in that room on their honeymoons, anniversaries and basically any other occasion you can think of. They wrote about their trysts in the hot tub, the claw-footed bathroom tub and also pointed out how creaky the bed was. We were grossed out. Who wants to think about hundreds of strangers sleeping in the bed you're in who, guessing by their writings, lack any class or character. Yuck.<br /><br />Anyway, after taking a stroll around the historic district to see the amazing old houses (which was like a breath of fresh air to two people who live in the plain jane suburbs, believe me) we headed to dinner. It was a restaurant recommended by the B&B owners and it did not disappoint. Our waiter was perfect and the food was dee-lish. And for once we didn't over do it and eat to the point of discomfort. After dinner we headed to "Sing Sing," a piano bar down by Coors Field. We were the early birds and one of the first couples there but it slowly filled up. The piano players were awesome and had lots of entertaining bits like turning on a smoke machine during Bohemian Rhapsody and flashing disco lights across the crowd. It was really fun and we plan to go back on a regular basis. <br /><br />After that, we headed back to the B&B where we relaxed in the hot tub with a bottle of champagne. We didn't stay in there long and took a hot shower before going to bed. I still don't feel clean (really, what compels people to share so much information???). <br /><br />I forgot to mention that it was a double bed and after being used to a king, we were hardly able to sleep a wink. On a better note, I swear I heard small, child-like footsteps in our room this morning and I didn't freak out. Maybe I can handle the Stanley after all.<br /><br />***************************************************************<br /><br />I really can't believe it's been ten years. Years ago I remember my mom saying that choosing the person I'd marry was the most important decision I'd ever make in my life. That turned out to be very true advice. Thankfully, I made the right choice. I have been able to share my life with a man who loves me, builds me up and has never hurt me in any way. He is a blessing in my life, more than I could ever have imagined or hoped for and I thank God for him every day.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763233372202342264noreply@blogger.com2