tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24607773846344237852024-02-21T01:18:30.423-08:00mrsmorrisartmrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.comBlogger453125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-72265288997787958232015-04-22T20:25:00.002-07:002015-04-22T20:25:21.948-07:00Curious George<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pL_8EmufHONiAbvSK-oY-NF31NSMmismEzt3Lt61TZ46K-wQQBJIDv1kvyoqhZnSx11UsBwuBSQVA4ZnBXBOjJ3FJ1y_MSmhXmr3_7WybUsyHhiRzJ_GTD5vpVAMowvLI8ySKuBHU0E/s1600/6george.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pL_8EmufHONiAbvSK-oY-NF31NSMmismEzt3Lt61TZ46K-wQQBJIDv1kvyoqhZnSx11UsBwuBSQVA4ZnBXBOjJ3FJ1y_MSmhXmr3_7WybUsyHhiRzJ_GTD5vpVAMowvLI8ySKuBHU0E/s1600/6george.jpg" height="202" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These knobs can be found here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">https://www.etsy.com/listing/127560836/custom-order-6-curious-george-ceramic?ref=listings_manager_grid</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-15336851055823486232015-04-13T00:56:00.001-07:002015-04-13T00:56:19.524-07:00Food Combos<span style="font-size: large;">Tuna salad and chocolate covered raisins. Not a great combination. Just sayin'.</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-20054918871060929182015-04-06T03:16:00.000-07:002015-04-06T03:16:22.012-07:00Question of the Day ~ GasHow can a person who is actually a pretty light sleeper sleep through the passing of two rounds of extremely loud gas? I can understand if the gas was of the quiet, hissing nature. Similar to air escaping slowly from a balloon. But this gas was violent! A combination of machine gun fire and the backfiring of an engine. Two distinct rounds of anal artillery, each lasting several seconds.<br />
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Wouldn't such sounds wake you up? Or at least cause you to reposition your body in the bed? And people think couples who sleep in separate bedrooms are missing out. Ummm, no, they are not.mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-38316128125849623332015-03-27T14:14:00.000-07:002015-03-27T14:14:06.478-07:00Miss YouHubby got a new (and better) job and has spent this week in Dallas at the company headquarters. He'll be home in about four hours. Yep, I'm actually counting the hours.<br />
<br />
I know it's healthy for relationships to have some time apart. Makes you appreciate each other, and renews feelings which can often become buried under the stresses of every day life. That has been the case with us this week. He told me on Wednesday, "I'm bored. I guess I miss you." Coming from him, that's actually high praise.<br />
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I had lots of plans to get things sorted and organized, and start working on yet another reincarnation of my craft room. No distractions I thought, no needing to be quiet during the wee hours when energy and my creative muse often visit. The best laid plans of mice and men...and me.....<br />
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A day and a half before Geoff left, the dog was walking around in a field and stepped on something sharp, slicing open one of the pads on his rear foot. We took him to the doctor, got antibiotics and it was bandaged. Then I had another vet trip on my own. A 95 pound dog, born and bred to pull a heavy sled is not easy to coax into the vet's office. He pulls lots of things with ease, including me. But a dog who was advised to stay off his foot as much as possible (he only has three legs so that foot must be used) still should not have derailed all my plans.<br />
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I was surprised at myself. I wandered around, in a semi-frozen state. Not able to concentrate, not feeling motivated, and often without much energy. Several times I slept for 12 hours, and still no energy. So at that point you know you're crossing over into depression territory. I felt like my rock was gone. My security, my beacon. I spent a fair amount of time lecturing myself and reminding myself the Lord is my rock, my security and my beacon. The logical me could not snap the emotional me out of the funk. I had no appetite and was literally having to make myself eat. Eventually I gave up and concentrated on keeping myself and my dog nourished, making sure he got his medicine and I got mine, and letting the world continue to turn without input from me.<br />
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I miss you Geoff. Your short military haircut, your worn and soft leather jacket, your patient and caring blue eyes. And the way you can hug me and make everything okay again. Fly safe my love, your wife and dog will waiting at the airport.mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-84120677427783041222015-03-23T18:26:00.002-07:002015-03-23T18:26:43.953-07:00A Better PersonMotherhood has made me a better person. A MUCH better person. I think this is the case for the majority of people who venture to board the unfamiliar, unpredictable train called Parenthood. I know not everyone is meant to be a parent. And if you don't want to be one, you shouldn't become one. Some are sadly denied the choice. I have a dear friend who wanted kids more than anything, but it didn't work out for her. So she immerses herself into being an advocate for children, and also a caring aunt and niece to those in her large family.<br />
<br />
Having a child took the focus off me. It was no longer what was best for me, or what I wanted to do. It was what was best for my child. I learned to love in a completely new way. And many will tell you they had no idea what love really was until they held their child in their arms for the first time. There is nothing stronger than the mother/child bond. I'm grateful I boarded that train over 20 years ago.<br />
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I see childless people my age, and I marvel at their complete and total preoccupation with themselves. They pour into their careers, carefully plan their next exotic vacation, and view trying new restaurants in their city to be the height of evolved living. They pen detailed Yelp reviews on the assortment of sausages available at a nearby eatery. At the end of the day they are content with their lives because after all, you don't miss what you never had.<br />
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Maybe some of these people would be self-centered even with children. I don't know. But they do amaze and confuse me.mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-41663386098137154182015-03-20T03:08:00.001-07:002015-03-20T03:08:46.111-07:00Reconnections<span style="font-size: large;">Have you ever reconnected with a person from your past, only to find they are nothing like the person you remember? Maybe it isn't a memory issue. Maybe life just changed the person into someone totally different. Either way it's extremely disappointing. A let down. A major bummer. You wish you could get a refund on all the time you spent thinking about that person and wondering what became of them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I had such an experience last summer and I'm still trying to "process" it. Time has not been kind to this person. They have become completely self-absorbed and wave a "I'm Bi-Polar" banner with pride. Hey, congrats on that!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If I could do it over again, I'd leave this skeleton in my closet. I've learned a lesson for the future, regarding the past. I'll be letting sleeping skeletons lie because some questions are best left unanswered.</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-66128180421580144122015-02-10T09:06:00.000-08:002015-02-10T09:06:00.301-08:00Bruce Jenner<span style="font-size: large;">I don't know about you, but I am about sick of hearing about Bruce Jenner. And even sicker of seeing his/her face. I try to be tolerant and remember it's not my job to judge. And I know, it's not. Yet I cannot help the fact my stomach just turns whenever I see hear about him. Gross.</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-35029172577116942592015-02-08T02:03:00.001-08:002015-02-08T02:03:19.059-08:00I Love My Simple Life<span style="font-size: large;">Friday night grocery shopping with the hubby. A nice package of meaty dog bones crossed the scanner and the clerk said, 'That's going to make some puppy very happy." I smiled and as the ice cream made it's way across the scanner I said, "the ice cream's for the dog too!" The clerk looked amused and just a bit shocked. As he scanned the two pound container of strawberries he looked at my husband and said, "I hope he at least gets some of the berries." I told him yes, he did, and he and the dog shared the ice cream in bed at night.</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-6538611327502534932014-10-29T20:52:00.000-07:002014-10-29T20:52:30.246-07:00Motherhood<i><span style="font-size: large;">Okay, just when I thought there were no more things left for me to get
maternally emotional about.....I was wrong. My baby boy is in the bed,
with a fever. I am doing what I've done since he was born. I am taking
care of him. It occurred to me this may be the last time I'm the one
providing this type of care. Soon I will pass the torch to Kenna. She is a bright, capable girl and I know she will do a good job. It is just so difficult to let go.</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I posted the above on my Facebook status last night. My future daughter-in-law commented that she will never be as good as his mother, as that is a special skill that is only mine. I don't know if she was being honest here, or just trying to make me feel better as she knows I'm struggling with all the changes. Either way, she said the best, most absolute perfect thing and I love her for it! </span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-47048207690153913622014-10-24T14:01:00.001-07:002014-10-24T17:57:10.078-07:00Wine<span style="font-size: large;">I don't "get" the whole wine "thing." It's grapes, mashed up, mixed with other grapes, stored in various wood barrels until it ferments. People devote their lives (well, at least their careers) to mashed up and fermented grapes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My first exposure to wine came when I reached drinking age. I would order white wine and got whatever that particular establishment served as their house wine. I never really liked the taste and quite often would order half wine and half 7-Up. Then, after the first few sips I would begin to feel tipsy. A light weight. A cheap date. Definitely. Maybe if I could hold my liquor better, I might have enjoyed it more. But then there's the issue of the taste.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps a "fine" wine would be pleasing to my palate. Perhaps I've cheated myself all these years, by never trying anything but cheap stuff. That opens up a fresh can of worms though, because spending a lot of money on something you drink does not mesh with my logical side. How much is a decent bottle of wine, served at home? I'm going to guess and say $50.00. Even if I acquired a taste for the better class of wine, I can think of so many more practical things to do with $50.00. Even if you drop the wine price to $25.00, that money could buy some cool craft supplies, plants for the yard or be put toward something for the house or a vacation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Why do I want to spend good money on something that slides down my throat, only to make me want to go to sleep 30 minutes later. Lastly, more often than not, alcohol does not bring out the best in people. I was married to an alcoholic and the personality change was stunning. I don't want to be around someone who has one too many and undergoes even the smallest of personality changes. Like, they become argumentative, loud, demanding, or unreasonable. Then there are the physical symptoms. Drink too much and then throw it all up. Charming.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't enjoy spending time with people who are under the influence. Even if it's the happy, boisterous kind of under the influence, I think it's obnoxious. And, inevitably, things are said and done which should not be said or done. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Let me close by saying I'm quite aware there are MANY people who can enjoy a glass or two of wine, either with a meal or alone, and not morph into some kind of monster. And what people choose to spend their money on is their business. For me, I don't see the value in fine wine. I will occasionally spend the afternoon cooking up an authentic Italian meal where a touch of the grape sounds extremely appealing. For those meals I'll toddle on over to the grocery store and pick up a bottle of sparkling grape cider. $3.79 and I'm golden.</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-12404569861038865842014-10-14T21:58:00.001-07:002014-10-14T21:58:27.902-07:00Candy Corn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Chocolate Rice Krispie treats with candy corn. Do you like candy corn?mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-29356227985982140632014-10-10T17:05:00.001-07:002014-10-14T17:00:21.988-07:00Sleeping Together Is Not Quality Time<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, Serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, Serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, Serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
read a blog post written by a man whose girlfriend hogs the covers, and
the entire bed. So not only does he wake up shivering, he wakes up
shivering clinging to the side of the bed. Yet he, like most people,
finds these things FAR preferable to sleeping without his loved one. He
says if you're going to sleep apart, why even get married. Really?
Really?<br />
<br />
My husband and I have known each other 16 years. We celebrated our 11th
wedding anniversary last week. For the past three years we have slept
in separate rooms. Prior to going to separate rooms, we had two beds in
the same room for several years. The current arrangement allows us
each to achieve the goal of quiet, restful, uninterrupted sleep.
Sleeping, or rather, not sleeping together, is NOT quality time.<br />
<br />
There are lots of things one person can do to keep another from resting
comfortably. Snoring, the twitching of arms and legs, repositioning
themselves with all the coordination of Shamu performing for a crowd.
and the passing of gas all rank right up there. Even with a king size bed, I felt I was sleeping in a war zone. My dear husband can
fall into a deep sleep in under three minutes. He can also go from that
same deep sleep to wide awake and completely alert in 45 seconds. He
can fall asleep anywhere, and if you wake him, he falls BACK to sleep in
about a minute. He's not a sleep cuddler. He says having someone sleeping against him makes him too hot.<br />
<br />
I am the total opposite. It takes me quite a while to fall asleep, and I
need absolute quiet to get there. Even the sound of a clock ticking is
enough to keep me up. Most nights I ended up on the lumpy couch,
seething with resentment, while he laid in our bed, snoring,
twitching, flailing and farting. One of us awoke refreshed in the
morning. And it wasn't me. According to a counselor I spoke with, this
problem is extremely common. And 95% of the time, it's the woman who
ends up being displaced. I'm all about the man being the head of the
household. But when it comes to sleep, I'll fight to get what I feel is rightfully mine.<br />
<br />
Our minds and our bodies cannot function on no sleep, or terribly
interrupted sleep. I spent my days in a sleep-deprived state. That
made me not a lot of fun to live with, but can you blame me? The
turning point came when I found myself standing at the side of the bed,
holding the covers up with one hand while the other hand clutched a can
of Lysol. I was seconds away from blasting him when I realized it's not
his fault, and he isn't doing it on purpose. AND, he's a perfectly
charming and well mannered gentleman when he's awake. Shortly after
that we went to separate bedrooms.<br />
<br />
Our sex life has not suffered, although I do sometimes feel like a one
night stand when he puts his pants on and leaves the room. Both of us
sleep well, without interruption from our loved one, and the important
time we spend together, i.e., time when we are conscious, is improved
because we are both well rested.<br />
<br />
But hey, if you want to measure the success of your relationship by the
room you sleep in, knock yourself out. I'm not the one clinging to six
inches of the bed, shivering in the winter.</span><br />
</span></span></span></span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-24354321022611522172014-10-06T01:56:00.001-07:002014-10-06T01:56:46.023-07:00Games Dogs PlayOur Malamute is hands down the most intelligent dog my husband and I have ever had. He is scary smart. The kind of dog who we can no longer say the word "car" to. We began to spell it. Now he's wise to that. We are going to use "vehicle" in the future. I'm sure it won't be long before we have to spell that one too.<br />
<br />
He enjoys lounging in the front yard during the wee hours of the morning. We live at the end of a cul-de-sac and the neighbors actually appreciate having him out there, on guard. This morning, about 1:00 am I heard him get up from the hall and move to the living room. I walked out to find him lying by the couch, about 10 feet from the door. I walked to the door and asked if he wanted the front yard. Blank stare. Asked him again. No reaction. So I walked back to my room and closed my door.<br />
<br />
Not 30 seconds later I heard a loud yip. Went back to the living room and there he was, standing by the front door, tail wagging. He does this allllll the time! And I wonder if he laughs to himself and thinks "stupid human." It's like it has to be his idea or he doesn't want to do it. mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-70093730830834117302014-09-04T20:55:00.000-07:002014-09-04T20:55:10.194-07:0020 Years Ago Today ~ 9/4/9420 years ago today the Lord gave me my biggest blessing, and my
biggest "job." It was as if He said, "Take this child who I have so
clearly set apart for My service, and raise him, train him in the ways
that he should go." The early years are still fresh in my memory. The
days when Christian school tuition was cobbled together each month,
sometimes with the help of family members, sometimes by collecting and
returning cans. God was always faithful and made a way for Jacob<span class="text_exposed_show">.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
I remain as humbled and in awe today, of the fact God gave such a child
to a sinner like me, as I was when a five year old Jacob was
approaching strangers and asking, "Do you know about Jesus?" I wish
there had been a support group, Mothers of Future Pastors, because it's a
daunting job and one I take very seriously. Too seriously I'm sure
some would say.<br />
<br />
I will be forever grateful that God brought Geoff
into our lives. A godly man who has taught Jacob what it means to be a
godly man. A man who walks the walk, each and every day.<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday Cobby ~ thank you for your patience, your humor, and most of all, for your love.</div>
mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-29613120271809245302014-08-31T17:08:00.001-07:002014-08-31T17:16:36.288-07:00Patty Smyth - Goodbye To You (OMG Is This a Great Song or What?)<br /><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3h8n5lrfcTc" width="459"></iframe>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-37004564190499354392014-08-28T01:25:00.000-07:002014-08-28T01:25:12.027-07:00What's the Big Deal About Coffee?I myself have never consumed as much as one sip of coffee. The smell of it alone is enough to make me gag. However, I do enjoy mocha flavored food, as long as it isn't too strong. 31 Flavors makes a killer mocha shake.<br />
<br />
I prefer to ingest my caffeine by way of soda pop. Sometimes diet Coke and sometimes regular Pepsi. It's cold, it's refreshing and it's a much more effective waker-upper than a hot beverage. About the only hot things I drink are apple cider and hot chocolate. Both of them make me want to go back to bed and get under the covers.<br />
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Just my two cents.mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-7174876846431785802014-08-26T23:55:00.000-07:002014-08-27T00:01:23.444-07:00KennaBeans * A Fresh New BlogMy future daughter-in-law has recently begun to blog. She has some amazing things to say. And I'm not just braggin' on her because I adore her. Check her out, you will see what I mean when I say A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://kennabeans.weebly.com/">http://kennabeans.weebly.com/</a><br />
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And, to quote Kenna, "Until next time, stay cool beans." mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-4100748248480620162014-08-25T02:50:00.000-07:002014-08-25T02:50:20.312-07:00I'm StingyYes, I'm stingy. I see it more and more as the days go by. I am very aware that my resources are limited, and it's important that I not waste them. By resources I mean time, emotions, effort, and vulnerability. I want to share the best of myself with people who truly appreciate me. People who feel I add something of value to their lives.<br />
<br />
And....I hate being ignored. I give 110% in my relationships, and don't expect the other person to mirror that, but they should come close the majority of the time. If they are too preoccupied to make me a priority, that's fine. To borrow part of the title of a popular book, maybe they're just not that into me. I'm not going to make a voodoo doll in their likeness and stick pins it. I'll just stop investing my resources in that person. To handle things any differently would require me to be fake, and that is something I cannot and will not do.<br />
<br />
I think it's healthy to take a periodic inventory of the relationships in our lives. If you're anything like me, you don't have to make time for this inventory because you have your own built-in warning system. A system that alerts you when things are one-sided. The bottom line is to value yourself, value your emotions, and value your time. It's okay to be stingy. Trust me on this one. mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-90669761430660864032014-08-24T03:32:00.004-07:002014-08-25T02:33:32.288-07:00Quote of the Day"There are some cases where Memory Lane should be closed to Through Traffic."<br />
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~ Memrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-356899121178711362014-08-21T16:14:00.003-07:002014-08-23T03:55:07.836-07:00He Gets It<span style="font-size: large;">I recently wrote a post called "One Foot Out the Door"
concerning my son and his forgetfulness of "the rules." He doesn't
read my blog (big surprise there....lol) so today's phone call from him
was completely innocent and not meant to score brownie points: <br /><br />Him:
I'm just calling to let you know I have one more call to do (he works
in merchandising) and then I'm going to see Pastor Chris, to fix his computer at 5:30.<br /><br />Me: Okay, thank you for letting me know.<br /><br />Him: I just wanted to you know because I didn't want you to plan something special for dinner and then I didn't show up.<br /><br />Me: Is Pastor Chris going to feed you dinner?<br /><br />Him: I don't know, but if he doesn't, I'll feed myself when I get home.<br /><br />Me: Okay, thank you - love you.<br /><br />Him: I don't want you to think that I take anything for granted because I'm not home. A lot of parents get upset if their kids are never home.<br /><br />Me:
I understand you never being home. You're doing what you're supposed
to be doing. You know you have a bed and food and a place to rest and
relax, when you need it. That's our job as parents and as long as you
are considerate, as you have been, we're good.<br /><br />Him: Thank you Mom, I appreciate that.<br /><br />He does get it. And he's a considerate, caring guy the majority of the time. Fills my mother's heart with pride.</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-13215579639590212482014-08-20T19:23:00.002-07:002014-08-20T19:24:45.490-07:00Two of My Most Favorite People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3Sjk1He0ZA7qTixaZ9pQJBt7rfLC5_uNEUltsZM9b8hpDSTdni9do57PA2AOv-iGkHBD7HfRya7dMW_DYfP7qO-A8ZhGActCJj9CJkWFbTTCfY3wV6GNx439mMF7pLN_w3IEZKeqJvI/s1600/engaged.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3Sjk1He0ZA7qTixaZ9pQJBt7rfLC5_uNEUltsZM9b8hpDSTdni9do57PA2AOv-iGkHBD7HfRya7dMW_DYfP7qO-A8ZhGActCJj9CJkWFbTTCfY3wV6GNx439mMF7pLN_w3IEZKeqJvI/s1600/engaged.jpg" height="320" width="219" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My son Jacob and his beautiful bride-to-be, McKenna. Just look at that gorgeous ring too!</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-55893173834291994942014-08-19T18:44:00.001-07:002014-08-22T16:01:19.276-07:00Attacks of ...... PanicThey occur far less frequently now, than they used to. And that is how it should be since the traumatic event was eight years ago. Yet to certain parts of my mind, the event was only yesterday. That is the sad, cold truth of the matter.<br />
<br />
My pain clinic doc wanted me to see their in-house family nurse practitioner. I don't know why, and was never told why when I was contacted to schedule the appointment. I already have a FNP and I would never give her up. The appointment was today and about an hour beforehand the meltdown began. Bottom line is I cancelled at the last moment, and now the provider must approve a future re-schedule.<br />
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It's impossible not to beat myself up over this kind of thing. Yet logically I know all I can do at this point is accept the fact I will need to ask my husband to take me to future appointments of this type. I will have to schedule them when he is available, and that's the way it has to be to avoid having this happen in the future.<br />
<br />
Take a deep breath, suck it up, and move on.mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-72959071636134666642014-08-18T09:35:00.000-07:002014-08-18T09:35:44.733-07:00UnderwearIt's highly overrated, in my opinion. It annoys me the way it bunches up or moves around. And don't get me started on the old visible panty line phenomena. I just don't like it and therefore, I rarely wear it. I have a few pair, in case I have to go to the hospital. Men are a lot more accepting of this. Other women find it cheap and tacky. So to shut them up I boldly announce, "I don't shave my legs either!" Oh yeah, that always gets me a gasp or two or three. THEN, I show them a leg and they bend down and examine it closely. No tricks, no applications of hot wax or hours spent with tweezers. I'm fair skinned and not a hairy person, I explain. Haven't had to shave my legs for the past 15 years. Whatever judgment they would have passed at the lack of under garments is quickly replaced by wonder and awe at my amazing hairless legs.mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-2101026661362202302014-08-16T22:37:00.000-07:002014-08-16T22:37:02.719-07:00Tim Holtz<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRl6YEpKdmuLzhS0stKSdAlX-WMkrNr5tN1xMs4gGlk8DRhWJP5-EKK7I30ju_f4rh6kdVyWnzmP4nb6gdocrzxVhOQi-3CvaDAtVl3Di4Gv_J1mtKXPJdMXdC3HPBDXjaa1uooPZaRv4/s1600/wheel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRl6YEpKdmuLzhS0stKSdAlX-WMkrNr5tN1xMs4gGlk8DRhWJP5-EKK7I30ju_f4rh6kdVyWnzmP4nb6gdocrzxVhOQi-3CvaDAtVl3Di4Gv_J1mtKXPJdMXdC3HPBDXjaa1uooPZaRv4/s1600/wheel.JPG" height="320" width="262" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Looking for a deal on some Tim Holtz crafting goodness?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://stores.ebay.com/Handcrafted-Home-Accessories/_i.html?_nkw=tim+holtz&submit=Search&_sid=45568236">Just Click Here</a></span><br />
<br />mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2460777384634423785.post-22024294284385858732014-08-15T01:35:00.001-07:002014-08-15T01:35:09.260-07:00No White Gloves Allowed<span style="font-size: large;">I made a quick visit to a dear friend's home last night. She was apologetic because things were not in perfect order. When it comes to being apologetic about a messy house, I am the QUEEN! And rightfully so. I have the most chaotic house of anyone I know. It isn't right and it certainly is not fair to my husband or son. But I digress. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I did not see anything out of place at her house. I only saw HER, and her sweet and funny husband. I wasn't looking for dust or prints on the fridge. If someone is your friend, they come to see you, not to inspect your house. Anyone who knows me knows how I struggle to contain my creative messes. They also know there is so much more to me than what meets the eye. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Driving home I was thinking how sad it is that we worry about what our friends think of our housekeeping skills. Because, if the friend isn't worrying, why should we? We all lead hectic lives, but what's wrong with grabbing a pizza or some sandwiches at Subway and just hanging out together? Let the dust bunnies fall where they may.</span>mrsmorrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605484729045138740noreply@blogger.com0