tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915872801593458702024-03-12T22:57:36.954-07:00Crystal's CliffnotesLife as an unexpected military wife and mother-of-three living in Europecrystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-62390261018655728552014-03-17T06:37:00.002-07:002014-03-17T06:38:22.375-07:00New Website<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZS3Tdu02-BziO8tYFVgoh4i1nauxiQuT0EOQ83GDD2KOlbX1AubK8jOCtycHitNti694wn93VnRW376hrCA-pmgoqEFAOj7yptqi4pLXtc0RTjWFUWkRhXvele27mzpT5tE0mxFdiQRQ/s1600/logo1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZS3Tdu02-BziO8tYFVgoh4i1nauxiQuT0EOQ83GDD2KOlbX1AubK8jOCtycHitNti694wn93VnRW376hrCA-pmgoqEFAOj7yptqi4pLXtc0RTjWFUWkRhXvele27mzpT5tE0mxFdiQRQ/s1600/logo1.png" height="130" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've been a freelance writer since the end of 2006. And in all that time, I've never had a website. <br /><br />No more, glory hallelujah. <br /><br />Now, thanks to my friend Brad at <a href="http://www.4tunatedesign.com/" target="_blank">4tunate Design</a>, I have a place where editors and readers can view my <a href="http://www.crystalkupper.net/portfolio/" target="_blank">past articles</a>, see the cool <a href="http://www.crystalkupper.net/experience/" target="_blank">people I've interviewed</a> and subscribe to <a href="http://www.crystalkupper.net/blog/" target="_blank">future blog posts</a>. <br /><br />In fact, I've already been blogging from there for the past few posts. And I'm loving it (ba-da-ba-bap-ba.....). <br /><br />I'll leave Crystal's Cliffnotes up for a little while longer, but please, if you want to keep reading about my crazy life, <a href="http://www.crystalkupper.net/blog/" target="_blank">subscribe to my posts</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/crystalkupper" target="_blank">like me on Facebook</a> and let me know what you think of my <a href="http://www.crystalkupper.net/" target="_blank">new site.</a> <br /><br />And if you're <em>really </em>feeling wild, share my articles and blogs with a buddy. <br /><br />Thanks for reading! </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-70037296904112748262014-02-14T06:36:00.002-08:002014-02-14T06:43:04.479-08:00High School Hearts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQaAMT8Tat0NzPATV8pqXO5LMuxMZkfYiyAlPMei0SGT6YeNotgMEHnP52ynMKJUfRnmNcBHUM1MtrEePNMY5uMmidWp2-WDo-RlTCY8YO6VnsueZitOnsvyRlAACt4ebf9dEJzvYfdDE/s1600/Card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQaAMT8Tat0NzPATV8pqXO5LMuxMZkfYiyAlPMei0SGT6YeNotgMEHnP52ynMKJUfRnmNcBHUM1MtrEePNMY5uMmidWp2-WDo-RlTCY8YO6VnsueZitOnsvyRlAACt4ebf9dEJzvYfdDE/s1600/Card.jpg" height="454" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There was a long list of things we didn’t have: money, life experience with serious relationships, college degrees — heck, not even a high school diploma — and a place of our own. After all, we were just teenagers. AKA we had no clue, and the world let us know it.<br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The list of things Nick and I did have at age 17 was a lot shorter, but in the end, mattered more: love, commitment and the crazy, irrational belief that we could make it no matter what the naysayers told us.<br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today, we have enough money to live a comfortable, middle-class lifestyle. We have over 11 years of “us.” We have college degrees, a mortgage, a dog and three kids. We’ve lived in two states, two countries and two continents as man and wife. By all accounts, we now know what we’re doing.<br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And yet part of me still longs for the days when life boiled down a hand-written love poem on a first Valentine’s Day, grammar and punctuation mistakes and all.<br /><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgjVr9spYDmbfCa4-VqCNr4kwvdkCVMNZTQpDdgfxA1t5HvTV2jfpWNkiyvlUHb_CTCUtILwkdYt9aJ02CBlCqhjxJTKCJkiEj-qv-StfieRgv4t35I87Q3fO2IQvVYIU7v-qBWR7o2A/s1600/Inside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgjVr9spYDmbfCa4-VqCNr4kwvdkCVMNZTQpDdgfxA1t5HvTV2jfpWNkiyvlUHb_CTCUtILwkdYt9aJ02CBlCqhjxJTKCJkiEj-qv-StfieRgv4t35I87Q3fO2IQvVYIU7v-qBWR7o2A/s1600/Inside.jpg" height="640" width="446" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>That yearbook smile still drives me mad</i><i> <br />With all that’s changed, I’m so glad</i><br /><i> You’re still loving me</i><br /><i> With that some old high school heart<br /><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>~</i>From “High School Heart” by John Michael Montgomery<br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The presents may have gotten more expensive, the clamor may have increased in the background and maybe we don’t have to drive 85 miles an hour down River Drive to make my curfew.<br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But that boy is the same. The girl is the same. The love is the same.<br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No, I take it back. That boy and girl have changed into a man and woman who have learned that true love isn’t entirely about the romance, the gifts and the holidays. That love has grown and matured into an all-encompassing river of everyday choices and actions, wild and calm by turns but always active and alive.<br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Happy Valentine’s Day to the one who, from nothing, has given me everything.</span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-6348446749698805142014-01-30T13:40:00.002-08:002014-01-30T14:16:58.327-08:00Hair Hits & Misses<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i><b>Today is the LAST DAY to enter the amazing <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/take-your-gotta-have-it-tablet-habit.html" target="_blank">Samsung tablet raffle</a>! Wanna win it for only $1? <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/take-your-gotta-have-it-tablet-habit.html" target="_blank">Check it out pronto! </a></b></i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">England -- where even the hair salons are older than America</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />As much as I love <a href="http://russellssalonspa.com/staff/stacey-smith/20622/" target="_blank">Stacey,</a> my amazing hairstylist back home, I knew I couldn't hang onto her forever. I tried my hardest, scheduling one last precious wash-and-cut a mere 48 hours before we left. And being the sweet woman that she is, she scribbled down instructions on a notepad for how I liked my hair done. <br /><br />"For your new stylist in England," she said. I took the paper, grateful -- Stacey knows I don't speak hair.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This week, I discovered neither Stacey nor I speak <i>British hair. <br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmiaurGTjXaNvSp0pv-MIEnn-3dCuGpBXeXTQXSMNEJMDtWhyphenhyphen_PX6vYHrsDtYSZAwXJRQxQgVAksilmCqtwRPOcEEBanpOsI15-TWUuCo4u2N1I3qlkGEglxMy83XvAw0zBVZ-DTRk4k/s1600/04440w.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmiaurGTjXaNvSp0pv-MIEnn-3dCuGpBXeXTQXSMNEJMDtWhyphenhyphen_PX6vYHrsDtYSZAwXJRQxQgVAksilmCqtwRPOcEEBanpOsI15-TWUuCo4u2N1I3qlkGEglxMy83XvAw0zBVZ-DTRk4k/s1600/04440w.JPG" height="320" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When you Google "British Hairstyles," this is the image that pops up. How handy.</td></tr>
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</i>After nearly three months of UK living, my tresses were in need. So I asked a fashionable, hip-with-it mom at playgroup where she gets her hair done. <br /><br />"By the lady with tattoos at the salon here in Gayton," she answered. <br /><br />So that's who I asked for when I made an appointment. "Aw, you must mean Danielle," the receptionist said. <br /><br />So off to Danielle I walked. (All six businesses in this no-stoplight town are within walking distance of my -- and any -- house in Gayton). <br /><br />The first discovery: just like in the States, British salon waiting areas don't carry <i>Sports Illustrated</i> or <i>ESPN</i> magazines. Massive disappointment. <br /><br />I sat down in the chair and Danielle handed me a cape. With sleeves. This was a new contraption to me. As all American women know (and perhaps some men), our capes just drape around you and are put on by your stylist.<br /><br />Not here. While trying to do it myself, I got tangled up in the sleeves. They were beyond my abilities. Poor Danielle had to rescue me from the wicked, sleevey cape. <br /><br />I have done <i>so much </i>for Americans' reputations in this county. <br /><br />"So what would you like?" she asked. I handed her Stacey's note. "I want my bangs and layers refreshed," I answered. <br /><br />Danielle looked at me blankly. "What are bangs?"<br /><br />Oh, no. All thoughts of this appointment ending well disappeared on a Norfolk wind. <br /><br />If anyone tells you that Brits and Americans speak the same language, they are liars.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIuNJm19EdGDwET-1TdTgk7gcTVCxVgKZJkp5wj3piRDQnBQIln0BxiTX_i4G4vg7eRg5EULuLAHujVziNZAMmXd0b3IJ7Dm-YUuA1823igbubtLhnVY73XFiL-OPbCQQCUJKrZdsQqhw/s1600/IMG_5623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIuNJm19EdGDwET-1TdTgk7gcTVCxVgKZJkp5wj3piRDQnBQIln0BxiTX_i4G4vg7eRg5EULuLAHujVziNZAMmXd0b3IJ7Dm-YUuA1823igbubtLhnVY73XFiL-OPbCQQCUJKrZdsQqhw/s1600/IMG_5623.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The finished product. Avinly says, "You mess with my mom's hair, you mess with me!"</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After a quick hand gesture, she got it. "Oh, you mean your fringe!" she cried. <br /><br />Fringe? You know, now that she mentioned it, I <i>did</i> recall Anne Shirley requesting a fashionable fringe in her hair, only to be shot down by sensible Marilla. <br /><br />The next half hour followed suit. I would say something, she would have no idea what it meant, I would gesture wildly with my hands, she would study Stacey's instructions and eventually translate. <br /><br />I couldn't say, "You know, the way Carrie Underwood has hers." Because well, Oklahoman country singers aren't real big here.<br /><br />I couldn't say, "Layers like Rachel had toward the end of Season 8." <br /><br />I couldn't say, "Not quite Brooke Shields' volume, but close." Because Lord knows when it comes to my repertoire of UK celebrities, I peter out after the Beatles and Paul McCartney and there is <i>no way </i>under the sun I want to look like them. <br /><br />Eventually, however, we made it work. As Danielle rubbed some product in my hair, I inhaled the delicious aroma. <br /><br />"Yum, that smells just like Laffy Taffy!" I said. <br /><br />More blank stares. "You know, taffy?" <br /><br />Another stylist asked, "Is that like toffee? Or perhaps a lolly?" No and no. <br /><br />As I was paying (more differences here -- no tipping, for starters), the owner walked in. <br /><br />"Hi, Crystal," he said. "How are you doing?" <br /><br />I have a great memory, but I didn't recognize the man. "Have we met?" I asked. He shook his head. "Then how do you know my name?"<br /><br />He laughed. "Crystal," he said, "EVERYONE in Gayton knows who you are." <br /><br />The other stylist eye's lit up in recognition. "I knew I'd seen you somewhere!" she cried. "You're that runner with the giant double buggy!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, then. At least they know I'm not totally uncoordinated, the cape incident notwithstanding. </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-63325877486765442572014-01-28T06:09:00.001-08:002014-01-28T12:05:36.417-08:00Burns Baby Burns...Scottish Inferno!<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Don't forget about our </span></em></strong><a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/take-your-gotta-have-it-tablet-habit.html" target="_blank"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Samsung Tablet raffle</span></em></strong></a><strong><em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> happening RIGHT NOW! You could win this puppy for only $1 while simultaneously saving two lives. </span></em></strong><a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/take-your-gotta-have-it-tablet-habit.html" target="_blank"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Check it out! </span></em></strong></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSIqq2hfHaiHF6BLjfor0vJ1abD7tJeYM1DjH2MK8jp_k5K6FouPqtsyUAwY8bkxKrVjviLtDA7f21a_GIqCTejX4qWubyVhw_jSXWp4zq8DhTVRGr2mxcyQAHQaGNzYQnNI0ylzNYEc/s1600/Overrated-Burns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSIqq2hfHaiHF6BLjfor0vJ1abD7tJeYM1DjH2MK8jp_k5K6FouPqtsyUAwY8bkxKrVjviLtDA7f21a_GIqCTejX4qWubyVhw_jSXWp4zq8DhTVRGr2mxcyQAHQaGNzYQnNI0ylzNYEc/s1600/Overrated-Burns.jpg" height="450" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Robert Burns, Scotland's most famous poet</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Would you like to come to a Burns supper?" our pastor's wife asked. After a split second of English-to-American decoding, I decided that term must mean a bonfire and agreed. <br /><br />"Great," she answered. "Feel free to wear your Scottish gear!" <br /><br />Huh? </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /><br />Aw, now I get it. <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burns_supper" target="_blank">A Burns supper! </a></i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJHQLVMISBFM949lmaJUsnSY3tm9y9a0g_QGfrWohQ_iQFELfG27aqAJJgfLlMyDd3Afzpb0T3u6u-X13dN30a9oriJPJTmAUWGfOae7qxQvSdlzeGOxts8cT_KWse-NKrdhvta2KSXE/s1600/rburns4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJHQLVMISBFM949lmaJUsnSY3tm9y9a0g_QGfrWohQ_iQFELfG27aqAJJgfLlMyDd3Afzpb0T3u6u-X13dN30a9oriJPJTmAUWGfOae7qxQvSdlzeGOxts8cT_KWse-NKrdhvta2KSXE/s1600/rburns4.jpg" height="640" width="530" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I can't help it. Americans love to poke fun at formality!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">If you have no idea what said supper is, don't feel bad -- I didn't know either. Here's the skinny: Robert Burns was an 18th-century Scottish poet. His home country is quite proud of him still. So they party hardy every January (his birth month) in his honor, complete with bagpipes, Scottish dress and decor and a Scottish menu. <br /><br />And what a menu it was. Save for the haggis (thank you, Disney Merida), I didn't recognize a single item. I had to learn in a hurry, however, as I was tasked with bringing the cock-a-leekie. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Pastor Andy brings in the haggis</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Starters</b> <br /> Cock a Leekie<br /> Cullen Skink <br /><br /> <b>Main course</b><br /> Haggis <br /> Vegetarian Haggis (yes, such a thing exists!)<br /> Tatties<br /> Neeps <br /><br /><b>Puddings</b><br /> Scottish trifle <br /> Crachanan <br /><br /><b>Drinks</b><br /> Irn-Bru and Scottish Highland water</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8lezbyrMNtxl_ZnZzrNrmbBpauEQEcM0JUgdtS5XhR_VFQI4WQoY1-nrO_9Ts-K0iKo44zOICEOWB4Y8PeflUHxtE0UdF-wgHJKzJm-zZj9JWX6WTQ52uIwaT68k7PlBSRJ_V79kwmE/s1600/IMG_5502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8lezbyrMNtxl_ZnZzrNrmbBpauEQEcM0JUgdtS5XhR_VFQI4WQoY1-nrO_9Ts-K0iKo44zOICEOWB4Y8PeflUHxtE0UdF-wgHJKzJm-zZj9JWX6WTQ52uIwaT68k7PlBSRJ_V79kwmE/s1600/IMG_5502.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Google what haggis is made of. I dare you!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">While sipping some <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irn-Bru" target="_blank">Irn-Bru</a> (which tastes suspiciously like the nasty pregnancy glucose test, by the way), Pastor Andy announced that the skank was served. <br /><br />Out came the Irn-Bru. "Does the term <i>skank</i> mean something different over here?" I whispered to the Canadian next to me. She shrugged. We both felt much better when Andy corrected himself, "No wait, I meant skink!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As per Scottish tradition, the bagpipes wailed as the haggis made its grand entrance. And then some Scottish guy online read a "Robbie Buuuuurns" poem in an accent so thick I wasn't entirely sure he was speaking English.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Since Nick and I aren't exactly hip with Scottish fashion, we were dressed as -- what else? -- Americans at a Scottish party. Though I did manage to find an authentic Scottish ribbon that had once been around a package of Scottish shortbread. So around my American neck it went, matching my red American Eagle sweater. <br /><br />Hey, I gave it my best shot. AND, thanks to my Scottish friend Debra, I even had a Scottie dog tea towel to wrap around my cock-a-leekie. (Can you tell I'm having fun with that phrase?). </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Haggis, sliced and up close</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I handed my slow cooker over to Pastor Andy, he cleared space off the counter. "Here, let me plug that in to keep it warm," he said. Fishing for the plug, he realized it wouldn't work in his European house. Everything about us identifies us as aliens here -- even our cookery!<br /><br />Well, at least no one will accidentally take my crock pot home. <br /><br />P.S. The cock-a-leekie, and everything else, turned out deliciously. Scots must eat and drink well, minus the Irn-Bru. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The haggis makes it grand entrance</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Several men were wearing kilts, including the host, Pastor Andy. Janet, his wife, wore slacks. At one point, I teased him about it. <br /><br />"Hey Pastor," I joked. "So how does it feel knowing that your wife wears the pants in the family while you don't?"<br /><br />He gave me a very funny look. "Actually," he stated, quite emphatically, "I AM wearing pants." <br /><br />I figured he meant metaphorically and just laughed. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A Canadian parading as a Scot</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Only
later did someone pull me aside and asked me if I knew what I had just
said to him. "You see," they explained, "in the UK, we call pants what
you would call underwear. And what you would call pants, we call trousers." <br /><i><br />So, in other words, I just questioned whether and how my pastor and his wife were wearing underwear. To his face!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ah, well. At least my own face matched the tartans for the rest of the evening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There were glasses of Scottish whiskey raised (I had no idea that whiskey smelled exactly like nail polish remover. Can someone please explain the appeal?) and speeches made in Burns' honor. <br /><br />The gist: "No one could woo a woman, drink a shot and write a poem like Robbie could!" But, when coupled with lilting British and Irish accents, sounding much classier.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Being the adventurous eater that I am, I had a slice of haggis. It wasn't so bad -- just very salty and chewy. I preferred the vegetarian version, actually; the city of Eugene would be so proud. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A sing-along of Auld Lang Syne (did you know Burns wrote that?) and a quiz on the history and culture of Scotland capped the night off. The contest ended in a tie between two teams of Brits, Canadians, Americans, Sri Lankans and Brazilians. Go figure.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Amanda and I show off our winning medals</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Before the Burns Supper, I didn't even realize that Scotland had their own flag (sorry, Debbie and Matt). I <i>did </i>know that reigning Wimbledon champion Andy Murray is Scottish, however, so that counts for something.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Lesson learned from the night: if Robert Burns' love for his country is like a <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/robertburns/works/my_luve_is_like_a_red_red_rose/" target="_blank">red, red rose</a>, then mine is like a red, red face...and a happy heart.</span></div>
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crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-40368233420912814682014-01-25T11:45:00.000-08:002014-01-28T06:19:27.003-08:00Sweets & Candi in England<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b><br />Don't forget about our <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/take-your-gotta-have-it-tablet-habit.html" target="_blank">Samsung Tablet raffle</a> happening RIGHT NOW! You could win this puppy for only $1 while simultaneously saving two lives. <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/take-your-gotta-have-it-tablet-habit.html" target="_blank">Check it out! </a></b></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">How
much does a boy love his grandma? Enough to fake an illness to get out
of school so he could spend more time with her. It didn't work,
unfortunately. <br /><br />But there has still been plenty of memory-making going on around here. After all, it's not every day that you get your first international house guest.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Reading Zootles magazine at bedtime</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jack and Jude practically counted down the hours until my mom got here. When Jude first saw her at the airport, he tackled her, and when Jack came home from a friend's house later, he did the same. They eagerly run into her bedroom every morning, clamor for attention and, in general, try to monopolize every moment they can from their Grandma Candi. <br /><br />Not everyone is so happy with her arrival, however.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNBpGQl9MloHcTjwtkfHxpuzpTcZZXbEsoXLzTf0VPyturw-rTdVOPGbL5P2hwGxtCJ08fR4D0HSRi7IuYPYjrX1ZxYAq5_8gWkCS0-rZLI8LL2qYIPWL1PYlazxX6Dm9Z9bfFyzyt7U/s1600/IMG_5533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNBpGQl9MloHcTjwtkfHxpuzpTcZZXbEsoXLzTf0VPyturw-rTdVOPGbL5P2hwGxtCJ08fR4D0HSRi7IuYPYjrX1ZxYAq5_8gWkCS0-rZLI8LL2qYIPWL1PYlazxX6Dm9Z9bfFyzyt7U/s1600/IMG_5533.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Beauty is pain, Avinly. And if you're the grandma, it's also humorous! </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jack and Jude have had the advantage of years and proximity to get to know their relatives. Being the youngest, Avinly hasn't. Hence her wild desperation to never leave my or Nick's side, even for her grandma. <br /><br />To combat this barnacle-like behavior, Nick and I have decided on the "weaken her resolve at all costs or we'll never get to go on our 10th anniversary vacation" approach. <br /><br />I'll let you know later if it's working. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The results of the grandma-and-granddaughter hair session turned out quite cute, in my opinion. Perhaps even Avinly was satisfied.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Since Jack is in school all day, lucky Jude gets Grandma Candi all to himself. You don't have to tell him twice to take advantage. There has been a massive amount of football-kicking, wrestling and exercise-ball bouncing at the Kupper Casa this week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh, and don't forget Lipstick Taser fights.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Vicious.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLykd4VSowRFW9V1vFXGJWG3GmCapVB478MSusbQ-_HgIWn2a5nLj7kgtI4wz1q5rgxaAuE_C3SB0dpBbM2WqEJKkJAUj8AWhBR8ZWl5WvWeK4pi-osTU8dGYRoDpWsxpO7rwBrDbUbw/s1600/IMG_5545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLykd4VSowRFW9V1vFXGJWG3GmCapVB478MSusbQ-_HgIWn2a5nLj7kgtI4wz1q5rgxaAuE_C3SB0dpBbM2WqEJKkJAUj8AWhBR8ZWl5WvWeK4pi-osTU8dGYRoDpWsxpO7rwBrDbUbw/s1600/IMG_5545.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One of the best parts
about my mom being here is showing her my everyday life in person
instead of over Skype or FaceTime. She's been enjoying our daily
routine, our new house and our new friends. She likes it all,
actually...except one thing. <br /><br />The roads. Mostly, the lack of sidewalks. <br /><br />Whether
driving, biking, walking or running, my mom is not satisfied with the
state of British roads. Oh sure, she was fine with it the first time she
visited a few decades ago. But now that her daughter and grandbabies
are risking their lives on them multiple times a day? No way, Jose. Get
God on the line and tell Him what's what!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Or at least beg me to stay inside the house. Right. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdRxaFfLew8K13DsPNaSMaUWFHGNVmVeuXgokg7i2ITunV9WQLkzq2LZcKeyjuW2Gpkbyc1-a2EFzm7VN0aKHrz520Zokrg7U7olxjp1oTIg5KA-F1AKApp_NyyrilvS7M0LeQz-1zjM/s1600/IMG_0380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdRxaFfLew8K13DsPNaSMaUWFHGNVmVeuXgokg7i2ITunV9WQLkzq2LZcKeyjuW2Gpkbyc1-a2EFzm7VN0aKHrz520Zokrg7U7olxjp1oTIg5KA-F1AKApp_NyyrilvS7M0LeQz-1zjM/s1600/IMG_0380.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">You should see when I take the double BOB here!</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thankfully, when you can ignore the threat of death lurking around every hairpin turn, runs here really are quite relaxing.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs24jDvwJYl96svGfomVyCkwPu0hyyZflnfMokDUmgrvQsdn_2KKiy3Q9EpsoLktUFC6f9pmJJRkOfg53aXViPh3pRFh_6T9VKXmB0OuBywl1dRW-FR7dG5fdo5iYuJ77sd1pGBfztqxI/s1600/IMG_1699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs24jDvwJYl96svGfomVyCkwPu0hyyZflnfMokDUmgrvQsdn_2KKiy3Q9EpsoLktUFC6f9pmJJRkOfg53aXViPh3pRFh_6T9VKXmB0OuBywl1dRW-FR7dG5fdo5iYuJ77sd1pGBfztqxI/s1600/IMG_1699.JPG" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Running by St. Nicholas' Church</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the UK, it is
perfectly all right to mosey through private property as long as you
leave it how you found it. As an American firmly steeped in the belief
that you stay off private land no matter what, it weirded me out at
first. But a few near-misses on my long runs helped me abandon that
skittishness. <br /><br />Mom, however, couldn't ditch the feeling that we
were breaking the law. I told her she would get used to it. Besides,
it's not like we'll get chased off by an angry farmer with a gun. Here,
it would just be an angry farmer. And he would probably disguise the anger as politeness. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmm2yzJhkj91R6FrAEIdzqqdQcH6347fKwl0UrBQA7LoVYMLusGZQXL1z1kYHHva1Xszu2n5IzmJtlnGUK6V4FL4k85d0pz_J09KJa4QhRLfN3nmFMVAI1ch1B9mKJvd8aoXl2xHMeITw/s1600/IMG_0408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmm2yzJhkj91R6FrAEIdzqqdQcH6347fKwl0UrBQA7LoVYMLusGZQXL1z1kYHHva1Xszu2n5IzmJtlnGUK6V4FL4k85d0pz_J09KJa4QhRLfN3nmFMVAI1ch1B9mKJvd8aoXl2xHMeITw/s1600/IMG_0408.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Running through a farm field. "My new shoes!" Mom said. My reply: "Did you actually expect to keep anything mud-free here, Mom?" </span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We've been filling our limited time with cuddles, books, runs/walks and town activities like Messy Church. I haven't had to introduce Mom to anyone; everyone already knows who she is. It's hard to stay anonymous with an American accent and a giant yellow stroller. <br /><br />"Oh, you must be Crystal's Mum!" they greet her in the schoolyard. How can you tell?</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdK2H-KOa_1vncggshUQppjWKKy_iWxDEcBSqFBZmWMW4KlmUtbHYp8d6V4naRTw-Da9Ml4V3ywcyGuxI8PtW2_FwV_hRJLnZQZ7gzzZXzDQuLhzxjfQjO54wGOGo_SgKoLV7RISPVpi4/s1600/IMG_5547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdK2H-KOa_1vncggshUQppjWKKy_iWxDEcBSqFBZmWMW4KlmUtbHYp8d6V4naRTw-Da9Ml4V3ywcyGuxI8PtW2_FwV_hRJLnZQZ7gzzZXzDQuLhzxjfQjO54wGOGo_SgKoLV7RISPVpi4/s1600/IMG_5547.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jude colors at Messy Church in the Parish Hall</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_LUE1HywOSZ7ZzThH_aJxunL08tFOS6ughHp-z22NoUHRoqYpgvq6MFNGMQYvrJpL7dSdTKJdq6AHqN11YCtxy3sqMlPQw3vCJG9Mmob8iVScISEHtA6wiEhfxvr-ZMbcElfv0Ntzkg0/s1600/IMG_5550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_LUE1HywOSZ7ZzThH_aJxunL08tFOS6ughHp-z22NoUHRoqYpgvq6MFNGMQYvrJpL7dSdTKJdq6AHqN11YCtxy3sqMlPQw3vCJG9Mmob8iVScISEHtA6wiEhfxvr-ZMbcElfv0Ntzkg0/s1600/IMG_5550.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Grandma Candi supervises the coloring at Messy Church</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No visit to Gayton would be complete without a visit to the <a href="http://www.gaytoncrown.com/" target="_blank">The Crown</a>. Partially because it's cool -- it was built in the 16th century! -- but also because it's the only restaurant in town.</span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcXl2lk5Soe_5a8z-S5PP-joJ9DFXnT38DgtIKygJBEITyzaQUlD7y8BAMMB5WFyCebkMOXPpLCotepdPQzaggLPocdXsEOuf-nmJzJyzdu9HDwBSLeO29xltwahgHT-XDbV3k5IXnLaw/s1600/IMG_5551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcXl2lk5Soe_5a8z-S5PP-joJ9DFXnT38DgtIKygJBEITyzaQUlD7y8BAMMB5WFyCebkMOXPpLCotepdPQzaggLPocdXsEOuf-nmJzJyzdu9HDwBSLeO29xltwahgHT-XDbV3k5IXnLaw/s1600/IMG_5551.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy2gUWHyQh4wsAAmMulOYX3Tfj4B9SEi7Y9WNjXFmuuf42Iil0XlOJt_9xOR0B3QgULAkRShooLtxECItMWIiqby09_qe5ih19uLvBYC9Q195DPVHGuxuoEkVpCtS-DkRb05lOdzpCVhk/s1600/IMG_5552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy2gUWHyQh4wsAAmMulOYX3Tfj4B9SEi7Y9WNjXFmuuf42Iil0XlOJt_9xOR0B3QgULAkRShooLtxECItMWIiqby09_qe5ih19uLvBYC9Q195DPVHGuxuoEkVpCtS-DkRb05lOdzpCVhk/s1600/IMG_5552.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When my petite mom can reach the top of the doorway, you KNOW the building must be old!</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Once we were seated near "the carvery" (a British meat buffet of sorts</span>)<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">, we ordered our drinks. Mom asked for a ginger ale; I, a lemonade. <br /><br />The
volume of Mom's "dry ginger" turned out to be the size of a shot glass,
while my lemonade was actually a Sprite with a lemon wedge on top.<br /><br />So now we know.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBogbrC-tNuFR2mtwza7eMabH7I6DacWYhF8Yx7n9arEa52aPp2rxnTuIBYj9Z8vlfVmHVCdLdOvXFvMlznOJ4IccVfUT0NFHi4oK5wCa0q3ebGoZcWVSxUOMhnRXGoVYSr6toaZawDaU/s1600/IMG_1694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBogbrC-tNuFR2mtwza7eMabH7I6DacWYhF8Yx7n9arEa52aPp2rxnTuIBYj9Z8vlfVmHVCdLdOvXFvMlznOJ4IccVfUT0NFHi4oK5wCa0q3ebGoZcWVSxUOMhnRXGoVYSr6toaZawDaU/s1600/IMG_1694.JPG" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Note to self: lemonade in the UK = Sprite in the US!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of course, Mom and I found plenty to talk about over the meal. Like how Jack played Pharaoh in a class reenactment that morning (he even earned a sticker for delivering the line "All Hebrew baby boys MUST DIE!" with deep conviction)</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and the funny slogans on British condiments.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9OVteX8ASf9q60mFbyO-uvoRRcxSL-BgMhjtx2Z0eAiaGFvlhpqVgI4H0-l_CkeIyniQFyBx6Wx2TbzjclcwjEtkSz6T-Zd3C5UOWasKuuliTBaCz70mnuh-biAwlGzPeditE83H4RM/s1600/IMG_5554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9OVteX8ASf9q60mFbyO-uvoRRcxSL-BgMhjtx2Z0eAiaGFvlhpqVgI4H0-l_CkeIyniQFyBx6Wx2TbzjclcwjEtkSz6T-Zd3C5UOWasKuuliTBaCz70mnuh-biAwlGzPeditE83H4RM/s1600/IMG_5554.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Giggling at this phrase never gets old</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Once the waitress arrived, Mom frantically whispered behind her menu, "Remind me what chips and crisps are?" The code: fries are chips here, and chips are crisps. Among other things I am still learning.<br /></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Like being a daughter only gets better with age. <br /><br />Like the best memories consist of games of Memory. <br /><br />Like life is all the sweeter when Candi is in it. </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-67962061088330021832014-01-18T07:33:00.000-08:002014-01-18T07:44:20.528-08:00Take Your Gotta-Have-It Tablet Habit and Use It for Good {Samsung Tablet Raffle}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1IRAKwK2tS1juaL-j4EgoWWCZFJ4Al3J-ifBhS0jkvRbtAIoD5LvZ4zO5ynWycaQYKmmYaUwxykvfqYv6KQq7AemDK8riHYZXp10gCYUN_vL487qE7rwfOYcJse3XmAhAznOj3pOgnY/s1600/shopping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1IRAKwK2tS1juaL-j4EgoWWCZFJ4Al3J-ifBhS0jkvRbtAIoD5LvZ4zO5ynWycaQYKmmYaUwxykvfqYv6KQq7AemDK8riHYZXp10gCYUN_vL487qE7rwfOYcJse3XmAhAznOj3pOgnY/s640/shopping.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Didja get everything you wanted for Christmas? Didja? <br />
<br />
Nick is pretty good in the present department. He certainly has come a long ways since he once chose Valentine's Day to give me a vacuum cleaner <i>that wasn't a Dyson</i>. So romantic, that one. <br />
<br />
Of course, Nick couldn't get me what I wanted this year: to be with my family back home in Oregon. I never fully grasped the importance of physical presence until it was over an ocean away. <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/running-from-christmas.html" target="_blank">My heart ached.</a><br />
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<i>Though I've been a military wife for nine years, I realized anew this December just how much a girl needs her parents. It doesn't matter that I've lived away from them for years; that I'm used to their absence; that I'm aware of the fact that real life means we can't always be together. I still miss them and need their guidance.</i><br />
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Which brings me to the Jenks family.<br /><br /><br />
</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Mark and Rebecca Jenks have six fabulous kids and live on the Oregon/Washington border. Mark is from the UK and occasionally sports a Minion shirt while working at a graphics company over an hour away. Rebecca stays at home raising the chitlins, including two gorgeous littles they <a href="http://www.columbian.com/news/2012/jul/19/ukraine-babies-land-a-home/" target="_blank">brought home just last year</a> from Eastern Europe. <br />
<br />
Suffice it to say their hearts for the least of these are huge. They have sacrificed a lot to show the world just how worthwhile their children's lives are. <br />
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And they're doing it again. <br /><br /><br />
</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaM3KttlPqnED7FgOMehwl4oDaRi4JQHb_as7qGAdOhk6KK7F06qeV7yxyVdGF7ge6lNr2EPlDaFgcW9p28xfrE6Pd5JcCkyrnveZ2DuudBr59cZeiGQS5LkmLKQvSFTG5xRYljI4BF0/s1600/969101_204266849732941_485242404_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaM3KttlPqnED7FgOMehwl4oDaRi4JQHb_as7qGAdOhk6KK7F06qeV7yxyVdGF7ge6lNr2EPlDaFgcW9p28xfrE6Pd5JcCkyrnveZ2DuudBr59cZeiGQS5LkmLKQvSFTG5xRYljI4BF0/s320/969101_204266849732941_485242404_n.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Mark building block sets to sell while holding son Gavin</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Mark and Rebecca are <a href="http://www.becauseyouareloved.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/christmas-wish.html" target="_blank">bringing home two more</a>, this time teenage girls from Eastern Europe with Down Syndrome. And just in case you didn't know, life for those with disabilities in that area is <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/International/hidden-angels-american-families-saving-children-syndrome/story?id=15234109" target="_blank">pretty horrific.</a> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is not a spur-of-the-moment, Oprah adoption feeling. This is a "If we don't get those girls, their death warrants are sealed," sort of decision. <br />
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Since Nick and I, just like the Jenks family, are called to care for orphans (the Bible talks about and mandates it, oh, several hundred times), here's what we're going to do: <br />
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<b>Simultaneously help Mark and Rebecca pay their girls' ransom (also known as adoption fees) while giving my readers a chance to win an expensive piece of technology on the cheap. <br /><br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jKsSsVFZ79iAKKWYmld1wJOdazb6A7AqgKej2Bu3AVVDZjEFBmw7qwaGVjxRR8h3a44eZ0cR2XHzUZpH-Sq9kRsbMmlw7Gu_Sn69QQL0Pa1jlPygWUlKQxfdCCWuTelDYlNC6PGe8L8/s1600/family+pic+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jKsSsVFZ79iAKKWYmld1wJOdazb6A7AqgKej2Bu3AVVDZjEFBmw7qwaGVjxRR8h3a44eZ0cR2XHzUZpH-Sq9kRsbMmlw7Gu_Sn69QQL0Pa1jlPygWUlKQxfdCCWuTelDYlNC6PGe8L8/s320/family+pic+2.jpg" height="442" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hence, we give you...the <a href="http://www.samsung.com/uk/consumer/mobile-devices/tablets/tablets/SM-T2100ZWABTU" target="_blank">Samsung Galaxy Tab 3 tablet</a>. Ta-Da!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHmrPQmnp2pO_F1HJfhbgEJWMY7hOKZJVB396aOKH5V_-5BvsHslaE0ovi2hS4P1IihyeXHRetH3LZo33yNuUMF7Sez0WdydiK3hxobaNMYD8sIWM9Hnnc07lTROH7AlEtLR_RZ8zMcI/s1600/uk_SM-T2100ZWABTU_001_Front_white_10029596012221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHmrPQmnp2pO_F1HJfhbgEJWMY7hOKZJVB396aOKH5V_-5BvsHslaE0ovi2hS4P1IihyeXHRetH3LZo33yNuUMF7Sez0WdydiK3hxobaNMYD8sIWM9Hnnc07lTROH7AlEtLR_RZ8zMcI/s320/uk_SM-T2100ZWABTU_001_Front_white_10029596012221.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's white, seven inches and has a camera. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For my American friends: we got it here, so it has a British plug...but it can be charged like usual to any laptop or computer. </span>It does all the fancy things tablets do these days. And it's worth about $228 (or 139 pounds for my British buddies).<br />
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Most importantly: it can save two lives from a (short) lifetime of institution abuse. How? I'm glad you asked. <br />
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If you donate just ONE DOLLAR to the <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/62945/sponsorjenks-2" target="_blank">Jenks' adoption fund</a>, you will have a chance to win this tablet. For every dollar you donate, you get 10 entries. Once you give, there are other ways to up your tickets; see the handy-dandy Rafflecopter below. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Most of my blog posts attract anywhere from 200-500 readers. If each of you gave just one measly buck, we could get Mark, Rebecca and family that much closer to their final goal of 23,000. Their FSP (Family Support Program) currently stands at $4,421.12. Could we get them to $4700, perhaps? <span style="font-size: x-small;">(I know this family personally and can vouch for their character. I've also been working with <a href="http://www.reecesrainbow.com/" target="_blank">Reece's Rainbow</a> for several years now and can gladly sing its praises!)</span><br /><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>It doesn't matter that sweet V&E have lived away from Mark & Rebecca for years; that they're used to their far-away parents' absence and pretty awful treatment; that the girls are aware of the fact that real life means they don't get the normal benefits of a family. They still miss what they've never had and need guidance.<br /></i></span></span><br />
The raffle ends on Saturday, February 1 -- the same month that the Jenks plan to travel to Eastern Europe for Veronika and Emelijia. In other words, let's get a move on! </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The winner will be drawn at random and notified by e-mail and/or Facebook, if applicable. <br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Go <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/62945/sponsorjenks-2" target="_blank">here</a> to donate to Veronika & Emelijia's ransom fund and fill out the form below to have a chance to win the tablet. And good luck! <br />
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<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/20bd712/" id="rc-20bd712" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a><br />
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script><br />crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-39616765547962966622014-01-12T09:16:00.001-08:002014-01-13T05:12:29.613-08:00The Kuppercott Awards -- or the 15 Books to Read in 2014<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">What do books have to
do with breastfeeding? For me, quite a bit. Since 2011, I've been
keeping track of what books I read in an Air Force notepad. And I've
noticed a trend: I read a heck of a lot more on the years that I'm
nursing a baby -- usually twice as much. <br /><br />I guess there is a positive to being forced to sit down so much after all. (On a side note: the <a href="http://www.boppy.com/" target="_blank">Boppy</a></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">might be one of the most genius inventions known to man. Or women, whatever.)<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">I can't keep up this trend forever (breastfeeding, not reading!). So thank you, <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/to-avinly-on-her-1st-thanksgiving.html" target="_blank">Avinly</a>, for the privilege of 33 books read this past year. Hence, it's time for the Kuppercott Awards! (Based on the literary <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caldecott_Medal" target="_blank">Caldecott medal</a>). <br /><br />Now,
imagine me in a sparkling red gown (because that's my best color)
handing out something akin to the Dancing with the Stars trophy -- only make it a little cooler than the cheesy Hollywood sequins. Like, cover it in dark chocolate. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Best Commentary/Analysis on Current Events: <i>The Tipping Point</i> by Malcolm Gladwell</span></b></u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />I
discovered this intelligent Canadian journalist a few years back, and
no, I'm not talking about L.M. Montgomery. Malcolm Gladwell is a staff
writer for The New Yorker, and his to-the-point, journalistic approach
to his books hooked me from the first chapter. <i>The Tipping Point</i>
is another fascinating, witty analysis of a seemingly insignificant
query: how does a trend start? How does something go from totally uncool
to gotta-have-it? (I'm looking at you, Hush Puppies!).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><u><b>Deepest: <i>One Thousand Gifts </i>by Ann Voskamp</b></u><br />Okay, I have to admit: I hate reading trendy books. And, to be honest, Voskamp's writing style sort of drives me crazy. So how did this runaway best-seller from a Canadian farm wife end up on my Kuppercott list? And more importantly, am I developing a thing for Canadian writers?<br /><br />The answer (to the first question, anyways): Voskamp gives shape to thoughts and wordless feelings I've had about God and life for years, and she does it in a way that sticks with you. <br /><br />I gave it the "Deepest" award because this is NOT a book you can cruise through. Each chapter requires self-reflection and deep thought. I came away cleansed, refreshed and more aware of my place in the universe, despite the fact that her run-on sentences irk me. But that's probably just a personal quirk. Trust me: this book is worth the energy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Best Use of Plot and Motif: <i>The Language of Flowers </i>by Vanessa Diffenbaugh</span></b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Thanks to my love of Victorian-era novels, I was already familiar with the idea that each flower and plant has a meaning. In fact, whole love letters -- or breakups -- used to be communicated through bouquets. <br /><br />Obviously, this slow-form communication isn't hot today. Diffenbaugh, however, marries the past and present with this story of an aged-out teenage foster girl who only speaks through flowers. Heart-breaking, eye-opening, raw and a call to action to <a href="https://camellianetwork.org/" target="_blank">help American foster kids</a> who leave the system unadopted with no family or skills. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><u><b>Best Intelligent-yet-Escapist Beach Read: <i>Death Comes to Pemberley </i>by P.D. James</b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Anyone who knows me well knows my love of not only Jane Austen, but specifically of <i>Pride & Prejudice. </i>Apparently I'm not the only one, as over the last decade a sub-genre of Austen prequels and sequels has popped up. <br /><br />P.D. James, a British crime writer, outdoes them all. If you can't get enough of the Darcy household, snatch this murder mystery up! See how Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam deal with hysterical Lydia <i>again </i>(but you're not surprised, are you?) as she wildly announces one night that her husband -- the dastardly, hated Wickham -- has been murdered. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><u><b>Can't-Put-It-Down Award: <i>Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies & Why </i>by Laurence Gonzales</b></u><br />You ever wonder why certain people survive a crash, accident or natural disaster when others don't? Or is that just me? Gonzales, an adventure writer, tackles this weird, yet intensely fascinating topic. Ninety percent of people panic in a crisis, while the remaining ten stay cool. Guess which group lives and dies when their plane crashes into a Peruvian mountain. <br /><br />Full of gripping, real-life stories, this book took up a major portion of three days for me last January. The first book I read of 2013 turned out to be a keeper. Seriously, I talked about this book to anyone who would listen for almost a month. As in, go to your library (Salem has it!) and get it <i>now</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><u><b>Best Modern-Day Social Justice Novels: <i>Scared </i>and <i>Priceless </i>by Tom Davis</b></u><br />Upon a <a href="http://www.compassionfamily.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Compassion friend's</a> recommendation, I picked up this two-book set, and I'm glad I did. Written by the president of <a href="http://www.hopechest.org/" target="_blank">Children's Hope Chest</a>, a child advocacy organization in Africa, Eastern Europe and India, <i>Priceless </i>and <i>Scared </i>explore the issues of modern-day human trafficking and orphan exploitation. <br /><br />Though not the best for their literary merit, both books do a great job of drawing you into the lives of two young girls, first in Africa and then in Eastern Europe. The issue isn't just a money-maker or entertainment for <a href="http://www.sheispriceless.com/tom-davis-author-of-priceless/" target="_blank">Davis</a>, either; he and his wife have adopted two of their seven kids from Russia. <br /><br />I dig that passion. I applaud those efforts to make a dent in what is arguably the <a href="http://www.sheispriceless.com/" target="_blank">worst atrocity</a> against the human race in our time. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">And I encourage you to let Davis' words ignite a passion in your soul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Best Anti-Barbie Book: <i>Cinderella Ate My Daughter </i>by Peggy Orenstein</span></b></u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />I can guarantee my mother will roll her eyes at this one, but this NYT bestseller by a feminist writer left me saying, "Yes!" after nearly every page. I've long had issues with the "princess" culture of the last decade -- why in the world does the girl need a prince to rescue her? Why can't she take action herself? Why are we teaching our girls that marriage to a "perfect" guy is a sure-fire way to happiness when, in reality, it's a recipe for divorce? This book gave me empirical evidence and plenty of reasons to be even pickier about Avinly's media intake.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><u><b>Best Biography: <i>C.S. Lewis: A Life</i> by Alister McGrath</b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Oh, so good! Yes, there are dozens of biographies out on Lewis, arguably the most well-known theologian and apologetics genius of the 20th century. They are worth reading. This one, however, beats them all. A fresh, honest, <i>real </i>look at a flawed man who changed the face of modern Christianity forever. P.S. And whom we named Jack after!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><u><b>Best Memoir: <i>The Midwife</i> by Jennifer Worth</b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ever since my <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/jude-my-manly-praise-of-judea.html" target="_blank">own birth experiences,</a> I've been a midwife groupie. Yes, I may have invented the weirdest fan club ever. <br /><br />This is the novel that launched the PBS show "Call the Midwife." More than a recollection of waters breaking, labor, delivery and Cockney accents, <i>The Midwife </i>is a hauntingly beautiful look back at a time and place previously unfamiliar to me: London's hard-off East End in the 1950s. Worth introduces characters ranging from humorous to heart-breaking, all the while keeping a tone of utmost respect for life in all stages. My hat's off to these midwives and the families they served!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDIJ03YcB7F_Myoe0j6Ihlw9AX8A0168ZTkqfFWzW2n1JreNubZ-QSU7BH86wK3N59f5VMq5DsOQ5cV2EZbsfrvb3LL_y0FsBOCeHArGHlUU62DrlA0CECBW19joJyEw-ieNOwwJZJEM/s1600/index4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDIJ03YcB7F_Myoe0j6Ihlw9AX8A0168ZTkqfFWzW2n1JreNubZ-QSU7BH86wK3N59f5VMq5DsOQ5cV2EZbsfrvb3LL_y0FsBOCeHArGHlUU62DrlA0CECBW19joJyEw-ieNOwwJZJEM/s1600/index4.jpg" width="424" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Required Reading for All Married Couples: <i>Sacred Marriage </i>by Gary Thomas</span></b></u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Nick and I read this for a class at our church in Salem, and our marriage thanked us. Thomas has long been one of my <a href="http://www.garythomas.com/" target="_blank">favorite marriage experts</a>; this book didn't disappoint. Yet the main idea was a little radical to me: what if the purpose of marriage isn't to make us happy? What if it's for a higher calling....like making us better people? <br /><br />Perhaps that's a little obvious to you, but it was a game-changer for me. Using historical marriages like Abe & Sally Todd Lincoln and John & Nelly Wooden, Thomas explores how your spouse's faults aren't there to drive you batty -- they exist to shape you into someone with more patience, grace, generosity and love. Even and ESPECIALLY when the other person is totally at fault. <br /><br />Plus, Thomas is a runner and comes up with all of his brilliant ideas for his books during his long runs. Kindred spirit right there. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Best Series: <i>The Isabel Dalhouse Novels </i>by Alexander McCall Smith</span></b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Oh, how I love this Scottish author. Smith is a world-traveler who wrote the wildly-popular "No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency" set. I dig Precious Ramotswe, the main character there, but I also loved the switch to Isabel Dalhouse, a Scottish philosopher and magazine editor. Her rambling thoughts are by turn both funny and fascinating, and Smith's gentle, classy prose never fails to make me smile. If you're in the market for intelligent, easy reading, go with this series.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJIWyhYSSHVAah_pYthgpZrWnP4FXcd1oU-qN5hcql3zHQ2HyDumh408MEP6njFt8u2ljB04xG5ezsUYRbrCf1ronskaNDtZoLR35FJBUcZnaPoyA7ZzPhQ5KMkd4k8U0bUQnq7o-2U_4/s1600/Isabel+Dalhousie+Series+-+by+Alexander+McCall+Smith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJIWyhYSSHVAah_pYthgpZrWnP4FXcd1oU-qN5hcql3zHQ2HyDumh408MEP6njFt8u2ljB04xG5ezsUYRbrCf1ronskaNDtZoLR35FJBUcZnaPoyA7ZzPhQ5KMkd4k8U0bUQnq7o-2U_4/s1600/Isabel+Dalhousie+Series+-+by+Alexander+McCall+Smith.jpg" width="512" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Most Convicting: <i>Just a Minute</i> by Wess Stafford</span></b></u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />As the former president of the world's <a href="http://www.compassion.com/" target="_blank">largest child sponsorship organization</a>, Dr. Stafford knows a thing or two about what makes children tick. I'll give you a hint: it isn't the best education, strict rules, top-of-the-line healthcare or even high self-esteem. Instead, it's encouragement from adults. <br /><br />With quick, easy chapters, <a href="http://www.justaminute.com/" target="_blank"><i>Just a Minute</i></a></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">interviews both well-known figures and everyday, ordinary people on adults who impacted lives -- both positively and negatively -- through just a one-minute interaction. Eye-opening and convicting to the core for anyone who's around children even casually or infrequently.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ2rpzF1dLsbVmCwTWBZEzFXCpHNCmA8RsfdRSL_YJQiYw8plgRcAKpdoyNy2ycZkuJAOishyphenhyphen62B2UBkKuDzS3Exbzb8Udxr36owXCsKuKESS7FQ7p-XM9VODSToUOPhrsIPvKwEYR5s8/s1600/just-a-minute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ2rpzF1dLsbVmCwTWBZEzFXCpHNCmA8RsfdRSL_YJQiYw8plgRcAKpdoyNy2ycZkuJAOishyphenhyphen62B2UBkKuDzS3Exbzb8Udxr36owXCsKuKESS7FQ7p-XM9VODSToUOPhrsIPvKwEYR5s8/s1600/just-a-minute.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><u><b>Most Gripping: <i>Captive in Iran </i>by Maryam Rostampour & Marziyeh Amirizadeh</b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Iran isn't exactly known for their hospitable prison system. (The ongoing <a href="http://beheardproject.com/saeed" target="_blank">Saeed Abedini case</a> has really brought this to light). </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Nor are they famous for <a href="http://www.iranhumanrights.org/tag/womens-rights/" target="_blank">supporting women's rights</a>. Two Iranian natives take readers on a terrifying, inspiring journey through their eight months of confinement in Evin, one of the world's most brutal prisons. <br /><br />Rostampour's and Amirizadeh's faith and calm belief in the midst of evil blew my mind. Their words stuck with me long after I returned the book to the library. The best and scariest part? It's all true</span><span style="font-size: small;">!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Best American History Book: <i>The Men Who United the States </i>by Simon Winchester<br /></span></b></u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was drawn to this British author simply for the fact that, after visiting America several decades ago, he fell in love with it so much that he eventually became a citizen. Okay, and maybe the fact that I was fresh off the plane from the States and was really missing my homeland. <br /><br />If you like history, you'll dig these little-known stories of the men and women who quietly built my beloved country.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT5JCB9_CCBX35ZSv_l-j4-q4xlM7wSGjAT2leydrZpEUOaXzYr-rajGSKErTPYb2TgawQiXpQZm0tHdvO1O4AbpR108_TdKcrbibvT3K4wi18OUeJvtcKKMbVIeEnHCSROuh-yf-3OIU/s1600/9780062079602_custom-3ecea628d3c13d609e6ad8dc92be02f29b44566f-s6-c30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT5JCB9_CCBX35ZSv_l-j4-q4xlM7wSGjAT2leydrZpEUOaXzYr-rajGSKErTPYb2TgawQiXpQZm0tHdvO1O4AbpR108_TdKcrbibvT3K4wi18OUeJvtcKKMbVIeEnHCSROuh-yf-3OIU/s1600/9780062079602_custom-3ecea628d3c13d609e6ad8dc92be02f29b44566f-s6-c30.jpg" width="428" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">And finally....drumroll, please...<br /><br /><u><b>The BEST Book of the Year: <i>When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty without Hurting the Poor...and Yourself</i> by Steve Corbett & Brian Fikkert</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">You may have noticed that I'm into social justice. It's a lifelong love affair. This book, however, totally changed the way I think about every issue related to helping people. As in, THIS BOOK CHANGED MY LIFE! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">The premise is simple: First-World people see the massive need of the Third World around them and want to help. So they try -- and appear -- to help through avenues like missions trips, construction projects and financial giving. <br /><br />But guess what: well-meaning people often do more damage than good. Say what?!?<br /><br /><i>When Helping Hurts </i>reads more like a social science book than spiritual self-help, and that's because it is. Using solid research and years of combined experience through <a href="http://www.chalmers.org/" target="_blank">The Chalmers Center,</a> Corbett and Fikkert demonstrate what actually works for equipping the poor and disenfranchised in the long run instead of just a quick, feel-good fix. <br /><br />Even if all you do is put a quarter into the red kettle at Christmas, read this book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtb8l8p4eQkoVjM1HTKGI3RaYBCEqr72fd_W6ym9BVdx-iCnW1AOJwEKercx8nwjCjrPO4Qri9YXv6OBlo9Yyon-TNAmtThj9cbtKL4BknBDF8ego2RZdJSXvlzAXMcGA8HxiuK2rKVU/s1600/WhenHelpingHurts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtb8l8p4eQkoVjM1HTKGI3RaYBCEqr72fd_W6ym9BVdx-iCnW1AOJwEKercx8nwjCjrPO4Qri9YXv6OBlo9Yyon-TNAmtThj9cbtKL4BknBDF8ego2RZdJSXvlzAXMcGA8HxiuK2rKVU/s1600/WhenHelpingHurts.jpg" width="414" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><b>So what about you? What's the best book you've read lately? What book do you want to read this year?</b></i></span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-27239477273621583152014-01-09T09:04:00.002-08:002014-01-09T23:09:58.222-08:00Supermarket Mayhem<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsrJtRGeBDiSAnOoUfMgnD8I5Q8rVq8VRgZA-o5Rix6xdBcVluKmF8gIW7xJW9dXT2DJjc3hbcTrHAHPFNkDO8V-hBmGV7Z-XQuQItJYwrCDzrvLYkSCNkVCG30NQvOYe7MOB5JjHAqs/s1600/IMG_0220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsrJtRGeBDiSAnOoUfMgnD8I5Q8rVq8VRgZA-o5Rix6xdBcVluKmF8gIW7xJW9dXT2DJjc3hbcTrHAHPFNkDO8V-hBmGV7Z-XQuQItJYwrCDzrvLYkSCNkVCG30NQvOYe7MOB5JjHAqs/s1600/IMG_0220.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Lesson #1: British markets carry many items not found at home!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I like to think of myself as a grocery shopping guru. As a home-schooler from a family with 6 kids, I spent a lot of time perusing the produce. And I will never forget my mom's delight when the Grocery God came to town and she could consolidate from two normal-sized Safeway carts to one giant Costco caboose. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Suffice it to say that I feel totally at home (heck, it's like a second home) in a grocery store. I can shopping list, meal plan, store-map and coupon with the best of them. Well, maybe not the crazy ladies on <i>Extreme Couponing</i>, but close.<br /><br />Yet American supermarkets did nothing to prepare me for the other-world that is British grocery shopping.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Mj0OLgqjZS7CzJgSBpy8BKnkWTnfDrXD4rD3Dy0112Jyolntr4y3tw8yM2PxqCrJ7ELLuq4LhXjLiI3IvQQVI1OREcKKPxDHV9lXRY6CuGybHBFbDf65jZxMFpkaDz3FtFYHdDXQRZg/s1600/IMG_0221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Mj0OLgqjZS7CzJgSBpy8BKnkWTnfDrXD4rD3Dy0112Jyolntr4y3tw8yM2PxqCrJ7ELLuq4LhXjLiI3IvQQVI1OREcKKPxDHV9lXRY6CuGybHBFbDf65jZxMFpkaDz3FtFYHdDXQRZg/s1600/IMG_0221.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What's different about this photo? What are you not used to seeing on a shelf next to sauces and snacks?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For the first few weeks, partly from the <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/u-k-drive-me-crazy.html" target="_blank">fear of British driving</a>, I stayed on base and shopped at the commissary. I knew those days were limited, however, as we would be moving far away from the closest base. So with GPS in hand (literally, my phone doesn't have a windshield display) and prayers in my heart, Avinly and I headed to Sainsbury's, a popular UK supermarket. How bad could it be? <br /><br />Well, for starters, my Honda Odyssey compared to most British vehicles looks like Shawn Johnson standing next to Yao Ming. For some odd reason, all parking spaces in the UK (and if you can find a store with a parking lot, <i>latch on and never let go</i>) accordingly cater to the Shawn Johnsons of the auto world. Meanwhile, poor, awkward Yao is left straddling two non-existent spaces and praying little Shawn has good insurance.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BsugmX0Dd_yavbH5Ug7m7BkfwmDVqll0tSu1nhMV-6JU9rwyR_rdacJCalQCqD4-Qh1fu4jRsw036rNjJN118dx1e1Qe2LcduUYeX4FOW8WSLFJzcJbbmGj6djEdr2gQSaqnxrIYKJA/s1600/IMG_0222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BsugmX0Dd_yavbH5Ug7m7BkfwmDVqll0tSu1nhMV-6JU9rwyR_rdacJCalQCqD4-Qh1fu4jRsw036rNjJN118dx1e1Qe2LcduUYeX4FOW8WSLFJzcJbbmGj6djEdr2gQSaqnxrIYKJA/s1600/IMG_0222.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">No percentages -- or gallons -- here! Just levels of skimmed and pints. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Once I got through the heart palpitations of parking, with Avinly strapped into the front pack, I tried to find a cart. Except I discovered that most stores here charge for that privilege (I have a running theory that, between their money-grabbing carts, pitiful sidewalks, and no-gun and no-stopping-for-school-buses rule, the Brits are not fond of women and children). You get the money back, but did this rookie know to bring change with her? I'll let you guess. <br /><br />So I may or may not have snuck one out of the corral before the cart cops could catch me.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymL9sG3xEJoE8Y9L71oN3q-Gdog7NOTd8SdPQ2goWmBNCAiwy9C6tTJEmXBv3c0jHfMhpN-gRD-S3UJMvbzb1r1j3yH69JOMMFMfAe5PIs2hjXp-GzNOC5CCv9AsRMzcjckOVgMncDXM/s1600/IMG_0223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymL9sG3xEJoE8Y9L71oN3q-Gdog7NOTd8SdPQ2goWmBNCAiwy9C6tTJEmXBv3c0jHfMhpN-gRD-S3UJMvbzb1r1j3yH69JOMMFMfAe5PIs2hjXp-GzNOC5CCv9AsRMzcjckOVgMncDXM/s1600/IMG_0223.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What we call candy, they call sweets or confections.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Once I made it inside, a whirl of activity greeted me. Everyone knew where they were going and what they were doing, except me. Thankfully, I am pleased to report that British toddlers hate grocery shopping just as much as their American counterparts, though the punishment and rewards promised by their mothers is different</span>. <br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Harry, sit up right now or no biscuits [translation: cookies] for you tonight!"<br /><br />"Emma Jane, if you don't stop that rousin' about, Father Christmas will turn off your telly!"</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiQJ2aWCKC7OxPtLwgmlRxCNB_6eB1d4va1x804czjPdpvyYyiOEkwBkdLWjk3eMDFZpvJ20048Bqkhhbf89DpNH2xwQ2CVEyKlUkrPzvVJyw9i-LEHTuuKj37CVp751OlUC9bsXktAM/s1600/IMG_0224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiQJ2aWCKC7OxPtLwgmlRxCNB_6eB1d4va1x804czjPdpvyYyiOEkwBkdLWjk3eMDFZpvJ20048Bqkhhbf89DpNH2xwQ2CVEyKlUkrPzvVJyw9i-LEHTuuKj37CVp751OlUC9bsXktAM/s1600/IMG_0224.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">They don't sell ice cream in cartons. They're <i>tubs</i>.</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Otherwise, everything is foreign from my beloved Lancaster Safeway. Carts are smaller or shaped differently. Checkers sit down while ringing up your purchases. Hand-held scanners (like those for wedding and baby registries) are options. Coupons are non-existent (just writing that hurts me!). And so are bag boys and nice men who carry your load out to the car for you while you try to strap every small human in as quickly as possibly in the driving rain. It's like Winco service with Whole Foods prices.<br /><br />The Brits are a hardy lot, I'm thinking.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3tuZ6Y1-CWifJCFSM5aVLEBRtOi9MsnfYXfF8CvPmC0SD0wpAQTCEP0JKbZkFJLfWXw9Ch0Ee5eVa62LUyTivxQw8QKDTUIuLSA_FTRZ-qaxZA5Lrxqn8kCbDdX4_JdK595JIvJ8c3Y/s1600/IMG_0225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3tuZ6Y1-CWifJCFSM5aVLEBRtOi9MsnfYXfF8CvPmC0SD0wpAQTCEP0JKbZkFJLfWXw9Ch0Ee5eVa62LUyTivxQw8QKDTUIuLSA_FTRZ-qaxZA5Lrxqn8kCbDdX4_JdK595JIvJ8c3Y/s1600/IMG_0225.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I know "Cornish" refers to the area where it comes from...but all I can think of is corn ice cream. </span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the States, no matter what store you visit, most items will be similarly grouped. So the baking aisle will always have pie crusts, chocolate chips, flour and sweeten condensed milk, for instance. Not so here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The map of a grocery store in Great Britain isn't even related to its American counterpart. Hence, the vinegars on top of a freezer chest, for starters. But hey, at least I am getting <i>plenty </i>of exercise here.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nx06-kXjgk6_zifYhRm45tYFGIwGlyjt-4Fo21pTTdH4jKcX3Xk_IM3sACjmXmhGLBM_oVXTcBYh6lBy5as7tlLISe4s2Vkkuo9qXuYBh9TUZJU2BshEeKS6I4aKhEQUIhEXpmw8oZY/s1600/IMG_0226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nx06-kXjgk6_zifYhRm45tYFGIwGlyjt-4Fo21pTTdH4jKcX3Xk_IM3sACjmXmhGLBM_oVXTcBYh6lBy5as7tlLISe4s2Vkkuo9qXuYBh9TUZJU2BshEeKS6I4aKhEQUIhEXpmw8oZY/s1600/IMG_0226.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It never fails to make me laugh: "Wonky wheels? Please let us know." </span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Though we have similar diets, Sainsbury's and Tesco's ("I believe Tesco's is our Wal-Mart," a mother at play group told me. "Isn't your Wal-Mart a wee low class?") do NOT carry many items that Nick and I consider standard. Like chocolate chips, ranch dressing, minced garlic, salsa verde and rice rusks for Avinly. <br /><br />So to get around that, I make two lists: one for King's Lynn (the larger town near Gayton where I shop weekly) and one for the far-flung commissary (a monthly trip). And thanks to some home-sick Canadians, I might start tacking on a few extra items on my base trips. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCWUA8d2sOwFqKkedD3_2PECgHVvODGkGzDLIE1HbQRTBRW84oaO_azdRri_c9KZ6XciXovkL96g8vhyphenhyphenco5ln_uBR94SEJfYF_pzFOzxkHHFZYnRVIchxf9NHWWJMQStY_oVAGwal9UY/s1600/IMG_0227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCWUA8d2sOwFqKkedD3_2PECgHVvODGkGzDLIE1HbQRTBRW84oaO_azdRri_c9KZ6XciXovkL96g8vhyphenhyphenco5ln_uBR94SEJfYF_pzFOzxkHHFZYnRVIchxf9NHWWJMQStY_oVAGwal9UY/s1600/IMG_0227.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What we would call "X's & O's," they call "Noughts & Crosses." It's never simple with these Brits, but <i>always </i>proper.</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And even when they do carry the same items, they often call it by a different name. Cilantro, for instance. It took me <i>weeks </i>to figure out it goes by the term <em>coriander</em> this side of the globe! <br /><br />Similarly, coconut isn't flaked, it's "desiccated," oatmeal is porridge, wheat flour is "stone ground" and English muffins are crumpets. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Oh, how the light bulb went off on that last one.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0oW5yq_YT0MhgoWNKIw9klaea-Xfz399R_q8GpS0BrWEHmOKCQg0hQ216RwfT2QSWm4zWGjm-AN2QbKHCt_hxySvzgI3xc2Wjf8LLqQIFgU5LnPN48XiAJBIWemc0k9d_wm07KZ-7ag/s1600/IMG_0229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0oW5yq_YT0MhgoWNKIw9klaea-Xfz399R_q8GpS0BrWEHmOKCQg0hQ216RwfT2QSWm4zWGjm-AN2QbKHCt_hxySvzgI3xc2Wjf8LLqQIFgU5LnPN48XiAJBIWemc0k9d_wm07KZ-7ag/s1600/IMG_0229.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Nick was so grateful that his beloved Golden Grahams live on, though through Nestle instead of General Mills. I had to burst his bubble, however, when I told him that unless the price drops by a whole heckuva lot, this will be the only box he eats for the next four years.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWEph7mQF3UGl4B9wtIeUcZtwriTY8LohMCkpGe3N8AioRV5O7eVUmPWzyqocBPXCSewhKSqZ1TH4wAu-tLZ7_PhekspaXi-uJV8zxZJU5Uzhj43OVKEWxALUrLnSDbTgOARgAcDFRhA/s1600/IMG_0231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWEph7mQF3UGl4B9wtIeUcZtwriTY8LohMCkpGe3N8AioRV5O7eVUmPWzyqocBPXCSewhKSqZ1TH4wAu-tLZ7_PhekspaXi-uJV8zxZJU5Uzhj43OVKEWxALUrLnSDbTgOARgAcDFRhA/s1600/IMG_0231.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">They're really English muffins!</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And the <i>cost</i>! Holy Moses, you can't even blame the exchange rate on the sky-high food prices here. I can't believe I ever thought Safeway was ripping customers off for charging 54 cents a pound for bananas. How I long for those naive, carefree days...<br /><br />To the old lady who was worried I was having an asthma attack on Aisle 5: I was merely hyperventilating. I had just realized the price tags were using pounds instead of dollars.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewnG3wxcNNmZy0oStNBNNfUfQbYxxb_EH2oQziXb3UdrlZFavhNwZk1y3nDEc9PirLgrz-OhyzQFVnPnC3-QB-mPZzZ2GW8tgK69Kpfy9_wYxFY9KOKW9PC4s-hRfS01c6jFeth4Kgd8/s1600/IMG_0319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewnG3wxcNNmZy0oStNBNNfUfQbYxxb_EH2oQziXb3UdrlZFavhNwZk1y3nDEc9PirLgrz-OhyzQFVnPnC3-QB-mPZzZ2GW8tgK69Kpfy9_wYxFY9KOKW9PC4s-hRfS01c6jFeth4Kgd8/s1600/IMG_0319.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Can you imagine what Gloria Steinem would think of this?!</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieoZbL85PzcpOq11yHjtaSBCC7bmPh3pPVsRnHCcLeXQSGDDE_FqT9KaXazGldI_Ycjola7ovNgAnxKeZdh_RPm4xvXyt6eJdl32WdhDVstFxA1jyy7OHxtwAl4qaeYUGeeV-tCG-5FkY/s1600/IMG_0320.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieoZbL85PzcpOq11yHjtaSBCC7bmPh3pPVsRnHCcLeXQSGDDE_FqT9KaXazGldI_Ycjola7ovNgAnxKeZdh_RPm4xvXyt6eJdl32WdhDVstFxA1jyy7OHxtwAl4qaeYUGeeV-tCG-5FkY/s1600/IMG_0320.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />No longer is the fruit from Mexico. Instead, we find exotic, spiky things from Morocco, Greece, Spain and even South Africa.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHk5XRHnelYW-LComHv5w4IiTfknLL3fUUoovJhOk4_gXU1orwUaSLXhtnZaRrvbm1lh2TMAcq35jSxp-sItzCvveZFU0TkqQqLuORtM8kEIGAdWl-ehIzGaoXy5QWhr-x3x6jj7ek68/s1600/IMG_0321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHk5XRHnelYW-LComHv5w4IiTfknLL3fUUoovJhOk4_gXU1orwUaSLXhtnZaRrvbm1lh2TMAcq35jSxp-sItzCvveZFU0TkqQqLuORtM8kEIGAdWl-ehIzGaoXy5QWhr-x3x6jj7ek68/s1600/IMG_0321.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack and I have yet to figure out what this is, as labeling things isn't a real high priority here.</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One brilliant invention that America should definitely copy: carts with platforms for infant car seats. Much safer than the "try to lock it onto the cart handlebars" dance.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyE0pvl3k4op3SHn8c17QeJEu_2HhyQzSk-8k9NNie1hi8irGDff8GmJWzVicKfqnfRsbwlv4oZknqlcMmFcvwgjHXSIPknHzedDYUWOnkuE_PNdN1VRfqX1krk52Ntd0fiYSwweTpBKw/s1600/IMG_0322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyE0pvl3k4op3SHn8c17QeJEu_2HhyQzSk-8k9NNie1hi8irGDff8GmJWzVicKfqnfRsbwlv4oZknqlcMmFcvwgjHXSIPknHzedDYUWOnkuE_PNdN1VRfqX1krk52Ntd0fiYSwweTpBKw/s1600/IMG_0322.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Like I mentioned earlier, they have different names. Another twist: different spellings for those different names. I present to you...Pyjama Pants! AKA night-time pull-ups.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3P8wefi4PQUjsAjL8E85Xx1reJtVvp7N95Tjyt-t5ZsZK2sZX7Y6qr5pmzUpwfZPns7corl751_om8OAXPfVFlQ7qXiBfDBHMXnoNg-AeHH7h8pj7G2FRyJMuklJllDYp91fIEU0W-yc/s1600/IMG_0323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3P8wefi4PQUjsAjL8E85Xx1reJtVvp7N95Tjyt-t5ZsZK2sZX7Y6qr5pmzUpwfZPns7corl751_om8OAXPfVFlQ7qXiBfDBHMXnoNg-AeHH7h8pj7G2FRyJMuklJllDYp91fIEU0W-yc/s1600/IMG_0323.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Since Europe is so international, England's grocery store are appropriately international. As in, they have aisles for Poland, Italy, Russia and Mexico. <br /><br />Well, a small section of an aisle for Mexico, anyways. I never realized how often I cooked Tex-Mex until we moved here. Though I know I won't find them, for some reason I keep scouring the shelves for the refried beans, chili peppers and enchilada sauce that just don't exist.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4mx48ntOC57LmaycS5jn7kgkBK6sm4toZs-PWcoERQ1YY545iFzEheL60HiorYDNDEHiIxn-fB_ysm6t6xIpjUAkivJN6dHq7ocsWAfn38q9GHJ-vSzm-XZpfUDvjJGc4wYsQq6d1Cg/s1600/IMG_0324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4mx48ntOC57LmaycS5jn7kgkBK6sm4toZs-PWcoERQ1YY545iFzEheL60HiorYDNDEHiIxn-fB_ysm6t6xIpjUAkivJN6dHq7ocsWAfn38q9GHJ-vSzm-XZpfUDvjJGc4wYsQq6d1Cg/s1600/IMG_0324.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The largest jar of salsa I could locate (which turned out to be a thin, watery red sauce) is 300 grams. <b>That's about 10 and 1/2 ounces, folks.</b></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm seeing a marathon salsa-canning session in my future...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnqmO8uNqgzMF09FXh8HCq5ZaTIM7D3rIM64UfF1ZwlYdzscQVYejTd5erQcoXPPmWjwmkn2pxvVjmeNusfXhOsbEo1gZzfFM7h0Pzrafwq24basYEufh_0NtTXCM_jnWQKJPzz85rqk/s1600/IMG_0325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnqmO8uNqgzMF09FXh8HCq5ZaTIM7D3rIM64UfF1ZwlYdzscQVYejTd5erQcoXPPmWjwmkn2pxvVjmeNusfXhOsbEo1gZzfFM7h0Pzrafwq24basYEufh_0NtTXCM_jnWQKJPzz85rqk/s1600/IMG_0325.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What England lacks in American standards they make up for with incredibly unique (to me) treasures...</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbyed9eb4jWr1vb7ORtprp4kLUr4T-GCre30E0ABUebfLhd6RHuHtxlz9zSdPrsZrx5W2a6u3rJA_z1v5UtjELxBKCqMGsBq7PYF1JcORWoSqRowuAM2vkV_Lz19JnjYq9AGk7jzX3QA/s1600/IMG_0326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbyed9eb4jWr1vb7ORtprp4kLUr4T-GCre30E0ABUebfLhd6RHuHtxlz9zSdPrsZrx5W2a6u3rJA_z1v5UtjELxBKCqMGsBq7PYF1JcORWoSqRowuAM2vkV_Lz19JnjYq9AGk7jzX3QA/s1600/IMG_0326.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Not recommended, by the way. :-)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6u54BHc52eDeo16G-JuLp7jnx9VTmIjCoSqDaySE6x0Dojuxh1U4JzLYZsuTF8qY9kuxISfyIORKzUdC6I0scg5W9Mh-gxofAbsz3x4eR69-yDFT2TDT02hECuAp0oC_fzBhG-_Bc5o/s1600/IMG_0327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6u54BHc52eDeo16G-JuLp7jnx9VTmIjCoSqDaySE6x0Dojuxh1U4JzLYZsuTF8qY9kuxISfyIORKzUdC6I0scg5W9Mh-gxofAbsz3x4eR69-yDFT2TDT02hECuAp0oC_fzBhG-_Bc5o/s1600/IMG_0327.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My mom would dig this.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Several times, I've had to ask people for help. "Can you tell me what this is?" I ask. They hear my American accent and smile. Sometimes, they know the answer and sometimes they don't. Sometimes, I end up buying laundry detergent solely because there is a baby on the box, and well, I have a baby, too.<br /><br />It's a very humbling experience. I feel a sudden sense of understanding and connection with the fresh-into-the-country Russians and Mexicans back home in Salem.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EgRjzfCMckN0cd1XK_6PNZx3Lq4TLZptMwhukaYtjNfG_fX6f-9aL0QemxQZtpKasEmTqIdsa78YYKIxvu9gaVLrZ9LbzbOR_basUbwOhXP-Rcb8-3l3qsvIT417jIWs29djY2pVpJ0/s1600/IMG_0328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EgRjzfCMckN0cd1XK_6PNZx3Lq4TLZptMwhukaYtjNfG_fX6f-9aL0QemxQZtpKasEmTqIdsa78YYKIxvu9gaVLrZ9LbzbOR_basUbwOhXP-Rcb8-3l3qsvIT417jIWs29djY2pVpJ0/s1600/IMG_0328.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But hey, they're free range!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIZswNCDIO3mxVlHlbuTm187yqFi464Ta4JoYVxj5fbO6I9Nb0K_CrqnPvl4vJjaE9XltexSH-uiSKplWg145zIG_D1idv7iw3JQB1Me3ipFMhvg25Xfetw__eHOhAB9lMuCvFd7grFE/s1600/IMG_0329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIZswNCDIO3mxVlHlbuTm187yqFi464Ta4JoYVxj5fbO6I9Nb0K_CrqnPvl4vJjaE9XltexSH-uiSKplWg145zIG_D1idv7iw3JQB1Me3ipFMhvg25Xfetw__eHOhAB9lMuCvFd7grFE/s1600/IMG_0329.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Brits, I have learned, put anything and everything in vinegar.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXEL5Vwg1xRjygn7rLxwW62qZwy84s9c8w5wgbsABMgBJpq-n8wMcxQ-BMD37g93cBNZ1e-av8MbGxyzjQtz_U2fVmszzEQj_Lq3HlOpXQ5_0FOqMQ9rHL0abMOOm0tdc-okZpZmJ0sE/s1600/IMG_0330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXEL5Vwg1xRjygn7rLxwW62qZwy84s9c8w5wgbsABMgBJpq-n8wMcxQ-BMD37g93cBNZ1e-av8MbGxyzjQtz_U2fVmszzEQj_Lq3HlOpXQ5_0FOqMQ9rHL0abMOOm0tdc-okZpZmJ0sE/s1600/IMG_0330.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Because tap water just won't do. I, on the other hand, can't remember the last time I turned my iron on.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The best part about being a British consumer? Easy access to Cadbury's products. The variety thrills me, though I may have to up my miles to compensate.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjge87Sg1tmTxeBPRAamdpE0jYdnqQZv1igKloi114m5u3xX9Ts5113cQUBXxZ8eXGRcSiTVgiHFGYCInx957TiCuHSv3od9PK2peK0_DWlm2RLTJslf8ojSlD4M0nGtLZgR0nqEV5LExo/s1600/IMG_0331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjge87Sg1tmTxeBPRAamdpE0jYdnqQZv1igKloi114m5u3xX9Ts5113cQUBXxZ8eXGRcSiTVgiHFGYCInx957TiCuHSv3od9PK2peK0_DWlm2RLTJslf8ojSlD4M0nGtLZgR0nqEV5LExo/s1600/IMG_0331.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">You haven't lived until you have had this spread on toast. Or rice cakes. Or a spoon.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The States has at least four different names for pop (can you tell where I'm from?). None of them, however, rival the Brits' word for it:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9uoXIq1gNvpdbJsTWPxFb8XrqbKuKQcmscF1PFH9RLyIa3fu21vzdSDezyW_wZbJUCaOgLrMCkWx7HdlJnUQLcHpg2vXlVmJOyjlWeXOeaAnjJ4B8D_GI3Gmzr_O74-l4np0pMj-b74/s1600/IMG_0332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9uoXIq1gNvpdbJsTWPxFb8XrqbKuKQcmscF1PFH9RLyIa3fu21vzdSDezyW_wZbJUCaOgLrMCkWx7HdlJnUQLcHpg2vXlVmJOyjlWeXOeaAnjJ4B8D_GI3Gmzr_O74-l4np0pMj-b74/s1600/IMG_0332.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Remember how the world mocked us for certain restaurants and consumers changing French fries to "Freedom Fries" in the year after 9-11? Well, apparently we're not the only ones who have a little national pride over a product that we didn't make famous. <br /><br />Until now, you thought that delicious green veggie was a Brussel sprout. Think again.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIK1D7lOq_XnY8DK4XNKilkjtS3zaa5de4XKCZD9RV4I3HlCzq4sS0Ai6uyG1lXQV8SDnZtyvF2G6zXfKpitUdqWtYjVl7w8qW4yhen0D6sFNbFiNsZAFX31D_a1bWY5zjQaObnIF3Io/s1600/IMG_0333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIK1D7lOq_XnY8DK4XNKilkjtS3zaa5de4XKCZD9RV4I3HlCzq4sS0Ai6uyG1lXQV8SDnZtyvF2G6zXfKpitUdqWtYjVl7w8qW4yhen0D6sFNbFiNsZAFX31D_a1bWY5zjQaObnIF3Io/s1600/IMG_0333.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Even the aisle signs identify their contents just a little differently.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NxdwIR4LWGPQ3VOIVVyzjy7I5wupGIJpHxNPA5wFjfx3TTZcANp0DYauTTSYmjqse53k7ITyx4a7I-kq2fxP2bc4teeFD6TMcLad_BxM9q4hZfMh7PtCLGihtmN3rmKNvrMhYaqruek/s1600/IMG_0355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NxdwIR4LWGPQ3VOIVVyzjy7I5wupGIJpHxNPA5wFjfx3TTZcANp0DYauTTSYmjqse53k7ITyx4a7I-kq2fxP2bc4teeFD6TMcLad_BxM9q4hZfMh7PtCLGihtmN3rmKNvrMhYaqruek/s1600/IMG_0355.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Did you know British cows have super-powers? They are the Tuck Everlastings of Livestock.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLpnwiRvxoSbPMUh0k8TFZtPou_ZtFgHW3SuukHjVGgFtJbTaBKaxWi7nnvTPNzzxPdaxbmznGFcvvYW6QepfMAZZMAMnNdXl6a6yH95vhG-K4BjhulXNLA3eYtJgaZ5K0U6FTuApg4s/s1600/IMG_0356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLpnwiRvxoSbPMUh0k8TFZtPou_ZtFgHW3SuukHjVGgFtJbTaBKaxWi7nnvTPNzzxPdaxbmznGFcvvYW6QepfMAZZMAMnNdXl6a6yH95vhG-K4BjhulXNLA3eYtJgaZ5K0U6FTuApg4s/s1600/IMG_0356.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This milk isn't powdered, or made of something like rice, almond or soy. It's actual cow's milk, unrefrigerated.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But hey, the Brits are nothing if not honest.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOYGA6eK7EE2JgCjuuuJuAaOKQ0UwjP7ug3IuiBafWMM6KhPs6YvP17ACe-mMb-6h1tMNAudBqmxOOHhTLI55XThyphenhyphenDOJcdX0pcdD2_dHBWXePzotc5UXGrP0KhRhq-rmjTZEdbZjuGXQ/s1600/IMG_0357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOYGA6eK7EE2JgCjuuuJuAaOKQ0UwjP7ug3IuiBafWMM6KhPs6YvP17ACe-mMb-6h1tMNAudBqmxOOHhTLI55XThyphenhyphenDOJcdX0pcdD2_dHBWXePzotc5UXGrP0KhRhq-rmjTZEdbZjuGXQ/s1600/IMG_0357.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Did you see that Tesco's has an American section now?" someone asked me the other day. Yes, I had seen. And nearly fainted when I saw the price of Oreos.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(Okay, the price of everything. Apparently my body can handle natural childbirth but not European food pricing).</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip383vsTwGCoZT2bTbjKpuLv7HbXx801JiOAwwBbgT1m8mcwIjgZxaEoPQzt6Ow9qSL8lZkSaOSBuQ_B_EhzVVzBxP1gycOv_cfmU93WYI8kdMiXBQiUnUruEKtbpwI7qiBt9sSpho9w8/s1600/IMG_0365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip383vsTwGCoZT2bTbjKpuLv7HbXx801JiOAwwBbgT1m8mcwIjgZxaEoPQzt6Ow9qSL8lZkSaOSBuQ_B_EhzVVzBxP1gycOv_cfmU93WYI8kdMiXBQiUnUruEKtbpwI7qiBt9sSpho9w8/s1600/IMG_0365.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Remember, a pound is worth about $1.65 right now!</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Avinly and I successfully made it home. "That was seriously one of the more stressful experiences I've had in a long time," I told Nick. But then I remembered my friends <a href="http://www.wideawakefamily.com/" target="_blank">Kim and Jed</a></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">who moved from Salem to Ukraine just a few days after we moved here. They grocery shop without the benefit of a car or even speaking the language! <br /><br />Seeing as how I'll go grocery shopping approximately 192 more times while living here, I'm sure I'll get used to it. And then when we get stationed somewhere in the States, I'll probably go through this all over again. <br /><br />Year: 2018. Setting: a Piggly Wiggly in the South.<br /><br />Me: "What do you mean you don't have any marmite?!?!" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Until then, I'm sticking (and stockpiling, shhh) my Cadbury's. </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-85713533509428949912014-01-01T13:31:00.000-08:002014-01-02T00:09:24.446-08:00Running From Christmas <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZzGkdspE1IJpKzWJhgHc0-ita6dWNiDWJ51B1PHklf91mumk4OvWdc0bjZHqN3mel52VR2OD4O_lW_0tSkEpE0FIowxg8MsPmfMp_ABVm9SHK8LDn5Ir0Hg5JSRdBbMe90PZurvGCzs/s1600/IMG_4999.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZzGkdspE1IJpKzWJhgHc0-ita6dWNiDWJ51B1PHklf91mumk4OvWdc0bjZHqN3mel52VR2OD4O_lW_0tSkEpE0FIowxg8MsPmfMp_ABVm9SHK8LDn5Ir0Hg5JSRdBbMe90PZurvGCzs/s640/IMG_4999.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sunset on Acorn Drive</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Nick deployed just a few months after we married. Plenty of older Air Force wives gave me "advice" about THE FIRST DEPLOYMENT, most of it terrifying. Like, "Every deployment gets a little easier." (Big fat lie, in case you were interested). And "You get used to them, and then you start to look forward to them. It's like the break from each other that all civilian husbands and wives secretly want!" Um, no thanks, I actually <i>like</i> my husband.<br /><br />For our first holiday season away from our family, the theme of "every one gets a little easier" has been repeated. And more of this: You're a military wife, so get over it. Look at how much you have; you shouldn't complain about missing your mom. Think of all the people who just lost someone to cancer, or who had a traumatic childhood. Be grateful that you were married for NINE YEARS before missing a Thanksgiving or Christmas Day with your parents, siblings, and in-laws. At least your husband isn't fighting in the Middle East; he's here with you and your beautiful, healthy children.<br /><br />And that was just what I said to myself. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLGGz30VYIr2ZpWClra2nnjaHnUnSPsRD6doM-vEo7bpz8HBPuEV6rTHIN4RESrXCQAjIdu-QTtFzpKZfyhrPZENqxc4Z-zx4n6UP-SFmoXSJNnMcy_fChIXTOQMs8EndXODvPW01fUc/s1600/IMG_5101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLGGz30VYIr2ZpWClra2nnjaHnUnSPsRD6doM-vEo7bpz8HBPuEV6rTHIN4RESrXCQAjIdu-QTtFzpKZfyhrPZENqxc4Z-zx4n6UP-SFmoXSJNnMcy_fChIXTOQMs8EndXODvPW01fUc/s640/IMG_5101.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Making the crust for Nick's birthday pumpkin pie</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The month of December, normally jam-packed with parties, concerts, caroling sessions, shopping, etc. was completely empty. Well, unless you count unpacking as a holiday activity. Every morning, my Facebook feed delivered shot after shot of ugly Christmas sweaters, sparkling cocktails, cherubic wise men and plenty of family portraits. They weren't all perfect -- the sheep ran amok, mascara was smudged, babies got colds and parties were missed -- but they were filled to the brim with <i>togetherness</i> and <i>traditions.</i>Two things I was sorely missing all 31 days of a very lonely December. <br /><br />I knew in my gut that I was and am incredibly, ridiculously blessed, even though I'm thousands and thousands of miles away from nearly everything and everyone I hold dear. When the feelings of insane jealousy and intense longing threatened to overtake me, I counted my blessings per Bing's advice. As I wrote about the orphan crisis, I reminded myself that it could be so much worse. <br /><br />And yet I still just <i>hurt</i>. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqoET3Q09iXDnYWqhWq663fwIIN9qHwdo0bAN6Wx8LCCp6NMIEmM2GfXbYFATuJZPIBsWn5m8LKfDURWofWcORm3arR_d5S6p2dtH8RPCVNsFxDYJeH0pkyTt3q8iRz8lJXPV0H0lGNs/s1600/IMG_5115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqoET3Q09iXDnYWqhWq663fwIIN9qHwdo0bAN6Wx8LCCp6NMIEmM2GfXbYFATuJZPIBsWn5m8LKfDURWofWcORm3arR_d5S6p2dtH8RPCVNsFxDYJeH0pkyTt3q8iRz8lJXPV0H0lGNs/s640/IMG_5115.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Nick writing Christmas cards to the neighbors</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I devoured every Christmas card that came our way -- the gorgeous family photos, the familiar handwriting, the newsy annual Christmas letters -- and tried to take my friend Jennifer's words to heart.<br /><br />"May your first Christmas in your new home be another great first in your 'England Season,'" she wrote. "Don't forget you are in good company -- Mary & Joseph were away from home the first Christmas." <br /><br />The thought she put into her words touched me. And yet the emptiness in my chest lingered.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeWj8XUyNT7pj7EXxHHfsMFoYkdhPk6UwFCE3kRFoC64UDlFf0h4OilLRHQVgeq4zZq6bP7sjlTPc7iqgnFIeTBPeKBHu6LKGchfsUeUypXLgudB4q4FCTc8xszoQbg5K0gyD9UqVE1Z8/s1600/IMG_5114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeWj8XUyNT7pj7EXxHHfsMFoYkdhPk6UwFCE3kRFoC64UDlFf0h4OilLRHQVgeq4zZq6bP7sjlTPc7iqgnFIeTBPeKBHu6LKGchfsUeUypXLgudB4q4FCTc8xszoQbg5K0gyD9UqVE1Z8/s640/IMG_5114.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Nick made sure "AMERICAN GREETINGS" were the first words our British neighbors saw upon opening their cards. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Though my cousin
Tannith and her husband Jon graciously invited us over for Christmas dinner, they live almost
four hours away, and Nick's work schedule just wouldn't allow for that
much driving in one day. So I desperately hoped and prayed for a local
to take pity on us. <br /><br />No such luck. <br /><br />So we had a quiet (take that word with a <i>hefty</i>
grain of salt) Christmas day totally to ourselves. I wrapped
everything, cooked and baked everything, planned everything and tried to
hold it all together for my kids' sake. I think I failed when I simultaneously wanted to Skype with my family and hide in my closet.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Oh wait, I don't have one. </span><br /><br />My awesome husband let
me go on a morning run in between present-opening and dinner. I plodded
along, trying to lose myself in thought. As I passed a woman out on a
walk, she looked at me in total disbelief. "What are you doing?" she
yelled at me. "It's CHRISTMAS!" Translation: <i>no sane person runs on Christmas, weird foreigner. <br /></i>I
wanted to yell back, "I can't help it; Nike and I were born in the same
town!" But I just smiled and kept running. While thinking, "If these
people don't get that running is a treat and not a chore, we're never
going to understand each other." </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Making toffee crisps with Chef Jude</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was just beginning to feel in control of my emotions again (thank you, God-given endorphins) when I passed by a house with a car full of arriving passengers, arms laden with presents. A grandma flung open a window, shouting, "Happy Christmas! Look at you! How you've grown!" while the grandpa ran out the front door, grabbing every grandchild in sight and covering them in kisses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I kept running. <br /><br />I came to another house -- same scene. Families arriving for Christmas dinner, happy screams, small children running around, a blazing Christmas tree in the front window. <br /><br />I kept running. And ran by yet another family reunion in another yard! <br /><br />My throat closed up, I could barely breathe, and I suddenly I felt exactly like Kevin in Home Alone when he sadly looks at a perfect family Christmas from the street, totally and completely alone.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Birthday kisses for Daddy! Don't mind the pants gap.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Nick's birthday was more of the same. He worked, I baked him a pie, we sang and ate and opened presents alone. <br /><br />I vented to one of my best friends over Skype. "<i>Just think of all the wonderful places you'll go!</i>" I said in a sing-song voice. "<i>Just think of all the wonderful people you'll meet!</i> They think our life in the military is like a government-funded Dr. Seuss book!" Kori laughed as I dumped all my feelings in a pile at her virtual feet. <br /><br />The great thing about feelings, however, is that they never last. Even as I cried out in prayer for a normal, happy holiday, I knew in my heart that I wouldn't always feel so depressed. <br /><br />Fast forward to New Year's Eve, for which, of course, we still had no plans as of lunchtime. Thankfully, a local pastor and his wife invited us over for an international bonanza. The kids in tow, we joined a group of diverse people from England, Ireland, Canada, Cameroon, Nigeria, Romania, Ukraine, Sri Lanka and Brazil. We were the only Americans. <br /><br />And a grand time was had by all. I met a Canadian who won me over with a casual compliment to my Ducks shirt. "Man, Mariota sure has had a tough November, eh?" My head snapped back with the mention of my football team's quarterback from half a world away. Oh, how I liked this stranger already.<br /><br />His fellow Canucks dove into my peanut butter chocolate cookie bars, not knowing who had brought them. "Um," one said, "Dude, this tastes like home." Another chimed in, "I was just going to say that!" And my heart smiled. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We popped open "Awkward Family Photos," one of my and Nick's favorite board games. Old scoring sheets fell out, and my breath caught for just a moment. Scribbles from our friends in Salem filled the pages, and the DVD player in my head instantly flashed through Sunriver nights so full of laughter that we fell off our chairs. <br /><br />I took a deep breath, filed away -- not erased -- the Salem echo and mentally pressed "record." <br /><br />It's time for some new feelings, some new experiences and some new memories. </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-54553204902914263402013-12-31T07:58:00.002-08:002014-01-01T06:17:21.332-08:00Top Posts of 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Crystal's Cliffnotes saw its most traffic ever this year, and for that I thank you. And perhaps humbly request that if you like/love/hate something I write to share it. <br /><br />Some exciting news coming up: look for a new website soon...including a new blog! <br /><br />By reader numbers, here are the 10 most popular posts of the year. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><br />1) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/for-more-than-just-my-children_30.html" target="_blank">The Hurt of Love</a> <strong><u>UPDATED</u></strong>-- I was incredibly gratified to see that an orphan-themed post got the most hits of any of my 50 blogs in 2013. Click to see who has now found their families, been transferred to a mental institution and aged out.<br /><br />2) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/how-i-healed-part-i.html" target="_blank">How I Healed {Part I}</a> -- Apparently, physical trauma from birth is more common than I thought!<br /><br />3) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/our-next-stop.html" target="_blank">Our Next Stop</a> -- The big PCS announcement! Where did Uncle Sam send us? <br /><br />4) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/and-she-will-be.html" target="_blank">And She Will Be</a> -- We waited until fairly late in my pregnancy to choose our third child's name. And lots of you tuned in for the big announcement! <br /><br />5) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/5-sentences-every-father-needs-to-hear.html" target="_blank">5 Sentences Every Father Needs to Hear</a> -- Just in time for Father's Day, too. <br /><br />6) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/candy-cane-complicated-aka-my-big-fat.html" target="_blank">Candy Cane Complicated (AKA My Big Fat Moving-In Post)</a> -- The Grand Tour of our new British home. <br /><br />7) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/10-things-im-loving-right-now.html" target="_blank">10 Things I'm Loving Right Now</a> -- Who doesn't love a happy blog? <br /><br />8) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/joy-came-in-morning-avinlys-birth-story.html" target="_blank">Joy Came in the Morning: Avinly's Birth Story</a> -- All about Avinly's grand arrival.<br /><br />9) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/while-waiting.html" target="_blank">While Waiting</a> -- My brother and sister-in-law's "falling in love" story is pretty stinkin' sweet and spiritually inspiring, if you ask me. <br /><br />And...<br /><br />10) <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/love-at-spencers-butte-and-all-around.html" target="_blank">Love at Spencer's Butte, and All Around the World</a> -- How my worst date turned into the best. <br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">What about you? What was your favorite blog post you read or wrote in 2013? </span></em></strong></span></div>
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crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-39103692198086131392013-12-23T01:54:00.003-08:002013-12-23T02:01:23.703-08:00Christmas Puzzle Pieces -- A Poem to My Parents (And Maybe Yours, Too)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3ib8yPI1Rw7x_z2rLcNP17hhjV-4BEuZYG9xX3iFJCw2VfP85r2pL2tP81H4jeCcwc8BIZHD3BGYJYNY0hpvokTZqWfBvMTsqJLdfZuLMHZgzszbp23S_t7aOvgSO_KUoDtMXbANw6g/s1600/1991+Christmas+Singing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3ib8yPI1Rw7x_z2rLcNP17hhjV-4BEuZYG9xX3iFJCw2VfP85r2pL2tP81H4jeCcwc8BIZHD3BGYJYNY0hpvokTZqWfBvMTsqJLdfZuLMHZgzszbp23S_t7aOvgSO_KUoDtMXbANw6g/s640/1991+Christmas+Singing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Christmas Eve 1991</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">At year's end, they appeared<br />The attic delivered one after another<br />Boxes full of handmade treasures<br />Accumulated, mismatched beauty<br />Decked in red and green<br />I saw and loved each one<br />But failed to see who propped and placed<br /><br />At year's end, they appeared<br />The ovens delivered one after another<br />Trays full of hand-rolled goodness<br />Accumulated deliciousness <br />Spread with frosting and focus<br />I saw and tasted each one<br />But never noticed who floured and shaped<br /><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Fun in the snow, 1991</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">At year's end, they appeared<br />Their hands delivered one after another<br />Packages full of momentary glee<br />Accumulated, wished-for fun<br />I played with and used each one<br />But couldn't see who pondered and shopped<br /><br />At year's end, they appeared <br />Our town delivered one after another<br />Hours of concerts, pageants, caroling<br />Accumulated memory-making<br />Replete with decades-old costumes and tales<br />I joined in each one<br />But never grasped the communal weight</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">At year's end, they appeared<br />Trucks and cars delivered one after another<br />Caravans of cousins, aunts and uncles<br />Accumulated, prayed-for reunions<br />I talked and feasted with each one<br />But never understood their true family worth<br /><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkKSn2j31FxvoKOgbkDYPwgNnEsHZUzUx1EUHG0oFIvZ0omTn-VtPrvH3gq06tNzBl8XK4epdFwn8mONFXc4t8MaqByvRq6880Ublfa7hQet3FsPc3U-ThhtXETpUd8pX4UwwHHPR6DU/s1600/1993+Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkKSn2j31FxvoKOgbkDYPwgNnEsHZUzUx1EUHG0oFIvZ0omTn-VtPrvH3gq06tNzBl8XK4epdFwn8mONFXc4t8MaqByvRq6880Ublfa7hQet3FsPc3U-ThhtXETpUd8pX4UwwHHPR6DU/s640/1993+Christmas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At year's end, it appeared</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The box with the pieces one after another<br />Shelves with nutcrackers proud and painted<br />Accumulated, snapped-together Yuletide puzzle<br />I worked side-by-side each night<br />But didn't realize its <span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">forever-yet-fragile</span> nature</span><br /><br /><img height="456" src="http://www.steveshallmark.com/webart/products/enlarge/6800.jpg" width="640" /><br /><br />At year's end, they appear<br />My own miniature Christmas lovers, one after another<br />Three little lives bursting with dreams<br />Accumulated moments of love and learning<br />I repeat what I've been told and taught<br />From oceans away, I grasp the thin thread of tradition<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/1513219_10151778556961481_775090255_n.jpg" style="height: 765px; width: 509px;" /><br /><br />Like the puzzle of times now gone<br />I search for the foundation first<br />Locking each piece in place for my babes<br />Though I have no box for guidance.<br />Like the nutcrackers on the shelf<br />I paint on a smile and stand tall <br />Knowing that in the moment<br />The picture isn't complete <br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><img class="irc_mut" height="554" id="irc_mi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBYa3rBYNwdyS6TUWMI2eF8-bOXWv1E2XtmMLjVSi6PIlJSvdgUXI6elKroczXrcx-lyqiMq4z1uiY3N0SwsFJJQDJCg3YwqQaYewCBdo04HFTztUr-pOcCE56rZgFrRiqab4SPRUs9U/s1600/baby+jesus+in+manger.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="413" /><br /><br />At year's end, He appears<br />Our Creator delivered Him, and there would be no other<br />A baby full of grace and truth <br />Accumulated eternity in his tiny hands<br />I now see, and place my unfinished pieces there<br />For him to lock and shape</span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-84701032659022161112013-12-21T02:00:00.002-08:002013-12-22T06:10:35.807-08:00Merry Christmas, Wherever You Are<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So this year's Christmas letter will not exactly be traditional. For starters, it's obviously not an actual letter. But hey, this year hasn't exactly been normal, so why not roll with it?<br /><br />I think I'll branch out with an old-fashioned acrostic, using words to describe our past 12 months with a smattering of year-in-review photo<span style="font-size: small;">s to illustrate. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">M</span>ove! </i>2013 was definitely "The Year of the Big Move." Just in case you didn't know, Uncle Sam kicked us out of America and booted us across the ocean to Europe. After four wonderful years in Salem, Oregon, we made the big jump to RAF Mildenhall in the United Kingdom. </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">With the aid of a Scripture Caterpillar (and the reward of a visit to Chuck E. Cheese), Jack memorized almost 30 verses this year. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>E</i><span style="font-size: small;"><i>xpansion.</i> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This year, our little family grew by one with the <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/joy-came-in-morning-avinlys-birth-story.html" target="_blank">arrival of Avinly Dawn</a> on April 3. She is now 8.5 months old and one wonderful wild-haired, blue-eyed addition to our nest. She looks just like Nick's mother, is totally in love with her daddy and would rather be held than dressed or clean. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqDiGG1sFSuxf1EHQ_LBo9ojoIlJ2eSbUE2c7fugzX0xFF-XKAUGKaFzIahPeR8jRVPCYhicpUMBdBaJ521LWmapzFvwN8Ho3OLTLUhOVO6Ju_xD6xWt3GqZBOPNW42288-NUZCdyuZ8/s1600/IMG_1522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqDiGG1sFSuxf1EHQ_LBo9ojoIlJ2eSbUE2c7fugzX0xFF-XKAUGKaFzIahPeR8jRVPCYhicpUMBdBaJ521LWmapzFvwN8Ho3OLTLUhOVO6Ju_xD6xWt3GqZBOPNW42288-NUZCdyuZ8/s640/IMG_1522.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jude learned how to ride a bike at the advanced age of two this year.</span></td></tr>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">R</span><span style="font-size: small;">oundabout. </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The move from America to Europe has been full of little quirks, twists and turns...literally. We are learning <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/u-k-drive-me-crazy.html" target="_blank">how to drive on the left</a>, navigate roundabouts, shop with pounds and decipher British slang, among other fun learning experiences. As to whether the kids (especially Avinly) will develop an accent, only the next four years will tell. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyjHQOJcBWw217F4ox2Vadv1gv3KOC63ed8KnZTXMFU6FLy6QBXM0mpZq9Aidc1Ca2XsmW9GLo3rJKSynFIijjkp2lzl5fidRoQGWpl7A1o2-PGgTVEliftAvrWY0O_YPodk7iXterWk/s1600/Kupper+Family_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyjHQOJcBWw217F4ox2Vadv1gv3KOC63ed8KnZTXMFU6FLy6QBXM0mpZq9Aidc1Ca2XsmW9GLo3rJKSynFIijjkp2lzl5fidRoQGWpl7A1o2-PGgTVEliftAvrWY0O_YPodk7iXterWk/s640/Kupper+Family_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Just a few weeks before Avinly showed up</span></td></tr>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">R</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">oller coaster. </span></span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Even though Nick was very ready to leave the world of Air Force recruiting and return to working on his beloved jets, it was <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/riches.html" target="_blank">hard to leave Salem</a>. We made amazing, lifelong friendships during our four years there. And with only one grandparent left between the two of us, we know our time spent with loved ones in America is precious and oh-so fleeting. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58vQjaKx3jXQHBz0OjoRYi7WV0AljVFe7dPkpRku3_6HqBmgErE5WVNsER5G4zEvV4ccBUH6SmNRW-nmix6tVk0i1bGlEiiAyHvyyJHe08ZtTPLbJNOR1YZVRWM-1iE6xmbvdOw1x27o/s1600/Kupper+Family_9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58vQjaKx3jXQHBz0OjoRYi7WV0AljVFe7dPkpRku3_6HqBmgErE5WVNsER5G4zEvV4ccBUH6SmNRW-nmix6tVk0i1bGlEiiAyHvyyJHe08ZtTPLbJNOR1YZVRWM-1iE6xmbvdOw1x27o/s640/Kupper+Family_9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Nick and Jude</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Y<span style="font-size: small;">ahoo! </span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">With three small children, the Kupper house is never quiet, especially when Nick walks through the door. Most nights feature discussions on "What was the best part of your day?" (where, strangely enough, Avinly always says "Milk!"), wrestling matches, story books, songs and always prayers to God, thanking Him for our many blessings. I often get comments from strangers in public like, "My, your hands are full!" No matter how much spit-up my outfit features or how little sleep I got the night before, I try to smile and say, "Yes, full of good things!" </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKnjGCA9hyphenhyphenLP_AzxhwftD4qdkoafXXqzXcko2SFRDaIzle74LqSYD2Prgl9RppaO3dJeZnGI0c2vrVFpst3ol_Na-FejxdGiEA2RphKiC8Er4p_lfNs2Mtx3vuMMCQ8_qRlrKcsG1rIXE/s1600/66823_10151329261336481_1435750007_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKnjGCA9hyphenhyphenLP_AzxhwftD4qdkoafXXqzXcko2SFRDaIzle74LqSYD2Prgl9RppaO3dJeZnGI0c2vrVFpst3ol_Na-FejxdGiEA2RphKiC8Er4p_lfNs2Mtx3vuMMCQ8_qRlrKcsG1rIXE/s640/66823_10151329261336481_1435750007_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Avinly, one day old and ready to go home</span></td></tr>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">C<span style="font-size: small;">hange. </span></span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2013 has been full of it. In addition to Avinly, we gained a new sister-in-law when my youngest brother married and two new cousins (pictured below, born right before and after Avinly). Jack started kindergarten at Salem Academy in the States and is now in "Year 1" at Gayton Church of England Primary School in the UK. Jude conquered potty-training and training wheels. Nick switched jobs and we switched continents. Time marches on.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0trCrcGKGFpzKKMu1OXainXgfykokdzbEX_e7XfohmEMh_jHuxntphJB8FQoNH3bXaukshyphenhyphenOcrC-pXTIhzj4tZKLAAhHLCo1i1t1840JL7HKBxCwIxKC1V_vKQVZ9fuXUNDv9e_o7LNY/s1600/374512_10151712853761481_103529153_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0trCrcGKGFpzKKMu1OXainXgfykokdzbEX_e7XfohmEMh_jHuxntphJB8FQoNH3bXaukshyphenhyphenOcrC-pXTIhzj4tZKLAAhHLCo1i1t1840JL7HKBxCwIxKC1V_vKQVZ9fuXUNDv9e_o7LNY/s640/374512_10151712853761481_103529153_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Three generations!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>H<span style="font-size: small;">appening</span></i></span></span>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Kuppers had a jam-packed year, even without the move. We took several trips to Sunriver and the Coast with both friends and family, hosted our exchange student Celia for another five fun-filled weeks, vacationed at Disneyland in September and traipsed all over Oregon trying to fit in our "to-do" list before we jetted over the Pond. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4Gk4R2-gybffziznsJKpERpP-gcmrhayvGSVNg704C7yl6lAHMYdyvHz_ZPWXfX0Vbc6Rod64FBEkMYFXsHVi3GihRwOb82M2qSjs7bT9kln0-6nsQgDrhhiMyhFeZlQLrhYyXFJLUg/s1600/484824_10151192736071481_89513704_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4Gk4R2-gybffziznsJKpERpP-gcmrhayvGSVNg704C7yl6lAHMYdyvHz_ZPWXfX0Vbc6Rod64FBEkMYFXsHVi3GihRwOb82M2qSjs7bT9kln0-6nsQgDrhhiMyhFeZlQLrhYyXFJLUg/s640/484824_10151192736071481_89513704_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bedtime with Jude and Daddy</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>R<span style="font-size: small;">un. </span></i><span style="font-size: small;">Of course, it wouldn't be Nick and Crystal without running and racing. Nick trained hard and PRed (ran a personal best) at the annual 4th of July "Butte to Butte" 10k in Eugene. And I ran several fun competitions, including a sub-27-minute 5k at 34.5 weeks pregnant and the same half-marathon in October that I ran while 17 weeks pregnant with Avinly last year. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCaKxwxxtuAFb4HWL4oOqbb3pdpsndalQU1zkNXMqsbCmQZpGJsHly0W-7Gu0w0Jw7_z__rCm7JKGERukZ2u8ziRGV6DHiIX2FWH-Kh0sfBxT4hJRkv1zDJFzISAORGisDAys7RkNlEMs/s1600/528860_10151315097811481_989575865_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCaKxwxxtuAFb4HWL4oOqbb3pdpsndalQU1zkNXMqsbCmQZpGJsHly0W-7Gu0w0Jw7_z__rCm7JKGERukZ2u8ziRGV6DHiIX2FWH-Kh0sfBxT4hJRkv1zDJFzISAORGisDAys7RkNlEMs/s640/528860_10151315097811481_989575865_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">36 weeks pregnant</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I<span style="font-size: small;">ndividuals.</span></i></span></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">2013 was definitely a year for each of my kids to show a little bit more of their personalities. Six-year-old Jack is quite the student who loves to read, decorate, plan our social calendar, engineer the next big invention and talk to anyone who will listen. Three-year-old Jude, meanwhile, just wants to play ball; any sport will do. He's also quite goofy and hammy, much more so than Jack ever is. And Avinly appears to be taking after her oldest brother -- she loves people, chattering and interacting! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnc2D8S6WMk_Old1RglGLqdbKpKuxaJwkXlLQpty1GdxEhR88WH6whPYmo8H6z0Y5i1yjijho8kAUVP7Ex1iFu74ldO4Wz2Q2iL3kQK1MlICpqQ5LfYpSI6lB339NNynJaifumKc_I_F0/s1600/577724_10151365200001481_1379757666_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnc2D8S6WMk_Old1RglGLqdbKpKuxaJwkXlLQpty1GdxEhR88WH6whPYmo8H6z0Y5i1yjijho8kAUVP7Ex1iFu74ldO4Wz2Q2iL3kQK1MlICpqQ5LfYpSI6lB339NNynJaifumKc_I_F0/s640/577724_10151365200001481_1379757666_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">May Day stealth mission!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>S<span style="font-size: small;">ervice.</span></i></span></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As the boys get older, it's been so fun to teach them about giving to others. This year, we've studied about the global orphan crisis (especially <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/for-more-than-just-my-children_30.html" target="_blank">those with special needs</a></span>), <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/a-birthday-for-barbie-or-how-you-can.html" target="_blank">hurricane relief</a> in the Philippines, <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/shoebox-time.html" target="_blank">packing shoeboxes</a> for impoverished kids worldwide and a host of other creative ways to give back. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSr_qeT_QCk4RPJHHay_RBLV0P1AjUT0aYtSgFG4nsabuaNRo13mS5IenFgA0gmTomU-0ja0DcawmkGlSbI3WZtTQVmsdtUUazF5GhPGvh56In5GJ8vrt2vR7Q4rtXqLNwvQl26wbUc2Y/s1600/579976_10151308752801481_255876327_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSr_qeT_QCk4RPJHHay_RBLV0P1AjUT0aYtSgFG4nsabuaNRo13mS5IenFgA0gmTomU-0ja0DcawmkGlSbI3WZtTQVmsdtUUazF5GhPGvh56In5GJ8vrt2vR7Q4rtXqLNwvQl26wbUc2Y/s640/579976_10151308752801481_255876327_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Going for a 28th birthday walk in the Oregon rain</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>T<span style="font-size: small;">ech Sergeant.</span></i></span></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On January 1st, Nick sewed on the rank of Technical Sergeant (E6). He reached this milestone fairly young, simply because he is fantastic at his Air Force job and works very hard to provide for us. Woo-hoo and we were/are so proud!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOR6RRzwzqm3ObQjTK1e3SDIp4Aj_Fc-tKEF6FMuC496NA1cxVM8L8kg4arbEK1pS0j8Pth-J8KgMt5BuPgJCHwqOdg6KgL7f0TO8goYl_vrGkNLgBVWygKe-KI5itRT371UGBGiYJQ4/s1600/894472_10151343084041481_1474948388_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOR6RRzwzqm3ObQjTK1e3SDIp4Aj_Fc-tKEF6FMuC496NA1cxVM8L8kg4arbEK1pS0j8Pth-J8KgMt5BuPgJCHwqOdg6KgL7f0TO8goYl_vrGkNLgBVWygKe-KI5itRT371UGBGiYJQ4/s640/894472_10151343084041481_1474948388_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br />M</i></span></span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ilestones. </span></span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jack now has lost four teeth and is learning to add and subtract. He loves to read and rides his bike to and from school every day. Jude learns new words constantly and is developing his sense of humor, which in turn makes us laugh. He can count to 20, knows all his letters and loves to weigh himself on the bathroom scale. Avinly, meanwhile, quickly learned that the best way to get someone to pick her up is to scream her head off. Works like a charm. She also is <i>thisclose</i> to crawling and pulling herself to standing! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>A</i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>nniversary. </i>Nick and I have now been married nine educational years. We are still novices at this marriage business, but it certainly is a fun classroom! </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFybszSjtxp0U08RyzPN8l_EEJe0nRHZ8W_UMDRfLExF_3qfcY4BLsKQLBZ0WcEu2ViWA_FCMS14mAn4lmaIRAgZcvCbuz-J4adnYegYCsVbnsgo6egqzJ0iSZyeiYiPHiCT0Bh-hdyI/s1600/946822_10151380323146481_841786470_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFybszSjtxp0U08RyzPN8l_EEJe0nRHZ8W_UMDRfLExF_3qfcY4BLsKQLBZ0WcEu2ViWA_FCMS14mAn4lmaIRAgZcvCbuz-J4adnYegYCsVbnsgo6egqzJ0iSZyeiYiPHiCT0Bh-hdyI/s640/946822_10151380323146481_841786470_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Mother's Day </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>S</i></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>uccess.</i></span></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We may not be the richest, fastest, smartest, tallest or most well-known, well-connected family in the universe (although I still maintain that Nickolas IS the best-looking man around!). But we are together, we are alive, we are growing every year, we are loved. And that, to us, is success. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSlBD51QXwC7Mksr695a4VAU1T7tBB2eFTBMW5OyR0gOoaIOwQ1tsDtOqJr33E4pbVDZBCCPgbrHYqjLJNT_IB3ABhXRNmSyNTTgyM7_Tkn75jClgPuNDLzs1NoWJWasSAtk0__HOtA8/s1600/965895_10151431304251481_1672304578_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSlBD51QXwC7Mksr695a4VAU1T7tBB2eFTBMW5OyR0gOoaIOwQ1tsDtOqJr33E4pbVDZBCCPgbrHYqjLJNT_IB3ABhXRNmSyNTTgyM7_Tkn75jClgPuNDLzs1NoWJWasSAtk0__HOtA8/s640/965895_10151431304251481_1672304578_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Father's Day at the ball park</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This year, more than ever, the Kuppers have realized how special our friends and family are. And we have vowed to not take them for granted from now on. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTRC97Z_nnyLxzTCwl06eoIsQ8J8q5LU1XzvsrnsfF_ReoFAA6nhBOnxt17zjXvhnULXAC94QU4KVSA-tNqwecQcTWwD51UySn40ymWhW9Rf_APLfvEJzTaDWR_-Fo-d86wTcBs162fr0/s1600/981622_10151421816621481_1628821378_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTRC97Z_nnyLxzTCwl06eoIsQ8J8q5LU1XzvsrnsfF_ReoFAA6nhBOnxt17zjXvhnULXAC94QU4KVSA-tNqwecQcTWwD51UySn40ymWhW9Rf_APLfvEJzTaDWR_-Fo-d86wTcBs162fr0/s640/981622_10151421816621481_1628821378_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Early summer in Central Oregon</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So to that end, thank you for whatever role you have played in our lives. We are so grateful for each and every one of you. </span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMukgo3XZc7ALp3m2YN9qSPxwHhOiquKEUsLBnHwinA2M-4iVmBtH9uW1bdEh0ufMVQjvd9y5TTiWkKkqqRc9VFm8mftB7cNDlEZOzB-llR_y2614vVFlqt8j9XKrR3VwoUV9-rNZKzo/s1600/1040009_10151455282346481_789594852_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMukgo3XZc7ALp3m2YN9qSPxwHhOiquKEUsLBnHwinA2M-4iVmBtH9uW1bdEh0ufMVQjvd9y5TTiWkKkqqRc9VFm8mftB7cNDlEZOzB-llR_y2614vVFlqt8j9XKrR3VwoUV9-rNZKzo/s640/1040009_10151455282346481_789594852_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The whole family</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hugs and kisses to you all across the miles. </span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">May your friendships be rich...</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4976_DDYOky8TcCIZfIEuvyrvEcKXfLf3yw2Ax9nKWeZ04hKnECIK5bEJLTatGfftQDU6etsVLD0ka6XBMIq7kRgFcGOuHhsOaQBihYPqJiMW8hvFZtJYz2nM6wsRuy5bkC69sJKG8RQ/s1600/1073774_10151477889156481_553475807_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4976_DDYOky8TcCIZfIEuvyrvEcKXfLf3yw2Ax9nKWeZ04hKnECIK5bEJLTatGfftQDU6etsVLD0ka6XBMIq7kRgFcGOuHhsOaQBihYPqJiMW8hvFZtJYz2nM6wsRuy5bkC69sJKG8RQ/s640/1073774_10151477889156481_553475807_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack and his best cousin Josh at summer camp</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">May your milestones be worth remembering...</span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">May your memories be colorful and rich with meaning...</span> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAA3nwZ2bkX5U2LCrcLFck-aQU_BgMPGChSmnqwXMxIbx5TOdjQqr6f04TLjHakAzzuRWJClLPf-TjLO2TfkBstMXnajKnaz1ik-VpnEnOmv-6Fb5hc848z2c3D3aM9HQ-K2A9_MRCCcs/s1600/1273518_10151609618621481_1044139436_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAA3nwZ2bkX5U2LCrcLFck-aQU_BgMPGChSmnqwXMxIbx5TOdjQqr6f04TLjHakAzzuRWJClLPf-TjLO2TfkBstMXnajKnaz1ik-VpnEnOmv-6Fb5hc848z2c3D3aM9HQ-K2A9_MRCCcs/s640/1273518_10151609618621481_1044139436_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">May your weekends be filled with people and things you love...</span> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zcVnQDU82WkeQYreBNtGdxKDMJ7mVSLESknQFmOdzTcaW_P7wXk543RcemGs6nVX8C2wyQV_Jdm3IcydNuAyA2-8yn7wj9Anjmt78vE1h5R0Dls957vplf-HOO17fvml6N8dAoc6Hbo/s1600/1395358_10151665553721481_1918969736_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zcVnQDU82WkeQYreBNtGdxKDMJ7mVSLESknQFmOdzTcaW_P7wXk543RcemGs6nVX8C2wyQV_Jdm3IcydNuAyA2-8yn7wj9Anjmt78vE1h5R0Dls957vplf-HOO17fvml6N8dAoc6Hbo/s640/1395358_10151665553721481_1918969736_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9nINMtAoOmUEaBYClsS7LFi8aiz2azsN25a7rtSOOAalCRe-xk0ph6y7u_HehgQ1ZKqRtXpTRuiYzt3As1CxiVkd5NRuwL9CwideMf0BcPW30XO8eCMs_a83P48g1j47gMB9FmW-65SA/s1600/1398080_10151651015096481_1579348343_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9nINMtAoOmUEaBYClsS7LFi8aiz2azsN25a7rtSOOAalCRe-xk0ph6y7u_HehgQ1ZKqRtXpTRuiYzt3As1CxiVkd5NRuwL9CwideMf0BcPW30XO8eCMs_a83P48g1j47gMB9FmW-65SA/s640/1398080_10151651015096481_1579348343_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Runaway Pumpkin Half Marathon with my mom, dad and uncle</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">May the joy of a child born for us all bring you peace and lasting contentment. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrnhqpVyAovSXFojjQILdOdryUu8pphVzT5MCICVjpFUTrlRfkQowPL0uexyDkdNNmjJnFCb3_-P2aCytODYBgBFPRQgYXX8ySXPUXID1NM9UE_PKAz_E5EQMkvMjw1w3kkOBUR-L_bAE/s1600/1401504_10151655555781481_107629381_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrnhqpVyAovSXFojjQILdOdryUu8pphVzT5MCICVjpFUTrlRfkQowPL0uexyDkdNNmjJnFCb3_-P2aCytODYBgBFPRQgYXX8ySXPUXID1NM9UE_PKAz_E5EQMkvMjw1w3kkOBUR-L_bAE/s640/1401504_10151655555781481_107629381_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Much love from the Kuppers, and best wishes for a wonderful 2014! </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-89309057428957252642013-12-14T15:05:00.002-08:002013-12-15T00:43:42.196-08:00Candy Cane Complicated (AKA My Big Fat Moving-In Post)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPx9V3Ni_vdOqJBJDKiCgd_mFhIXZ7W_mcesUVs7IxVwhOgoslkNN52ku41Qf5PHT-1LvTeAtj0ZpRiUaIxifdOhaH7NRbaMwhYWKOsSA9N8_3H_8F4e0_-btUz1CK0YdY2A8nJ0Ozag/s1600/d6254561205db5c9d5cb533d6de4f2edacccdbc2_645_430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPx9V3Ni_vdOqJBJDKiCgd_mFhIXZ7W_mcesUVs7IxVwhOgoslkNN52ku41Qf5PHT-1LvTeAtj0ZpRiUaIxifdOhaH7NRbaMwhYWKOsSA9N8_3H_8F4e0_-btUz1CK0YdY2A8nJ0Ozag/s1600/d6254561205db5c9d5cb533d6de4f2edacccdbc2_645_430.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From America to Britain, from Salem to Gayton, from Beth to Acorn, from Marion to Norfolk, from Chauncey to Oak House...one way or the other, we are here and in a house.<br /><br />Welcome to 9 Acorn Drive, AKA the already-named Oak House, in the town of Gayton, the county of Norfolk, the country of England. <br /><br />Don't trip over the boxes or children piled up everywhere, please.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSHcHRIRKOYrQoBsQMIBmZx1Gmo-WWjd3FuFm4dS7IanKAep02iknxg5NkQIzP2Yi8TzEfAPcBVCaN9H7yQZz3u3sqle8Nep2eKUpJk4BOl9Wkn89OTVDzk5rni6tIeR0Xn74_DK-0gU/s1600/IMG_0289%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSHcHRIRKOYrQoBsQMIBmZx1Gmo-WWjd3FuFm4dS7IanKAep02iknxg5NkQIzP2Yi8TzEfAPcBVCaN9H7yQZz3u3sqle8Nep2eKUpJk4BOl9Wkn89OTVDzk5rni6tIeR0Xn74_DK-0gU/s1600/IMG_0289%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The kitchen. The red is my favorite feature!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO33XHIuJy4dqyV8dBu1BHar5zhK6YhYGdpAl0-ONObR7eROp_XdR2SajvJET-zo-mNFP0R1yln2bLfm7pZ2GmZLmw4XuLnfSvj8NGRrBrljUmxP3b-GNdFDuzHtqoXia-F7HrmFMM_sQ/s1600/IMG_0290%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO33XHIuJy4dqyV8dBu1BHar5zhK6YhYGdpAl0-ONObR7eROp_XdR2SajvJET-zo-mNFP0R1yln2bLfm7pZ2GmZLmw4XuLnfSvj8NGRrBrljUmxP3b-GNdFDuzHtqoXia-F7HrmFMM_sQ/s1600/IMG_0290%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It may not look super-impressive to you, but this house has a normal-sized fridge/freezer...AN EXTREME RARITY IN THE UK!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEw5vpA-_9Pk_9C-x7Irly4W3UA97ZoJdbw5M4e7ULmUoPxy75T52iwEfUj75cT-wtuuXXrglAi-Aa4bQQSLhI1U4xN3jweyG9FdozOs__lEOyxAJFHzkOli0_Iqf2Dkb4jfp_ivivS4I/s1600/IMG_0291%5B1%5D.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">An important feature for all my PNW visitors: a built-in cappucino maker. You're welcome. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I took these photos before the movers arrived. Because I figured my readers didn't really care to see giant walls of boxes. Care to join me on a tour?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But first, here's the skinny on how we found this place: my friend Kim back home has a friend who has a friend who just so happens to be stationed at RAF Mildenhall like us. She said, hey want me to hook you up with someone I've never met but who knows my friend? <br /><br />Why not? So first via Facebook, then via Bob Hope (no, not the man, the indoor playground on base!), I met Liz. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI03W5pnbtN5yjmH2X-mqmHXltghxpTg370ZMMk0CszO3RkTxK4amhbble6Pa8PWK2JytP6O2BHZQptzTyMT8AO_x9UXfESFm2JR91FMba_y8qbxTSaIGWuHcCES8sOGO5eUt4cR9vq4U/s1600/IMG_0292%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI03W5pnbtN5yjmH2X-mqmHXltghxpTg370ZMMk0CszO3RkTxK4amhbble6Pa8PWK2JytP6O2BHZQptzTyMT8AO_x9UXfESFm2JR91FMba_y8qbxTSaIGWuHcCES8sOGO5eUt4cR9vq4U/s1600/IMG_0292%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">For the first time in our 9 years of marriage, we have a staircase. Nick, as you can see, is pretty happy about that.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Liz is a super-cool and crafty Montana mom of two boys whom I immediately liked. She lives in Downham Market, which she immediately liked when she first moved there 18 months ago. "You should try to find a house there," she said. <br /><br />And so I did. Try, that is. <br /><br />I had been searching online for a house with Mildenhall (the town where Nick's base is) as the center. And the pickings were pretty slim: 1200-square-foot houses being described as "extremely spacious" by letting agents, no garages, NO CLOSETS, small and cramped rooms, and did I mention no closets? And all pretty spendy. I knew we could make it work if we had to, but I held out hope for something better.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9RgN1uqMMXDZUzbZcAwZMI-QtNLsb0e4BX2ZkYPlhGMkiyhOFmoAaK-MI8NmyVZssZ_85DwWE4aZaIuiU19mDYbudncQMYuDhR-n4PDhgbOw4O3hamMET2u69XfCSK_i3JKdZH6HwJA/s1600/IMG_0293%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9RgN1uqMMXDZUzbZcAwZMI-QtNLsb0e4BX2ZkYPlhGMkiyhOFmoAaK-MI8NmyVZssZ_85DwWE4aZaIuiU19mDYbudncQMYuDhR-n4PDhgbOw4O3hamMET2u69XfCSK_i3JKdZH6HwJA/s1600/IMG_0293%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The living room. Nick has only set it on fire once so far.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So when I moved my online pinpoint from Mildenhall to Downham Market, I discovered something amazing: the further you got from base, the better the houses got. And then I saw this house. <br /><br />It looked amazing...but it was a 45-50 minute drive from base. I should have known better than to show it to Nick; he immediately started drooling and said to call the letting agent. Once he gets an idea in his head, it's there for good. (I am a prime example). </span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6qVJ7Oqyi3XB3x_LV-yRZYLVHCXW2a6Q7Ti_NWFIejIxm8aiObaUw-yVsL2cSA37_TZYL-XHt6SpbHhqQDWbEyzv-77tluwcm6im6gv1RPdQVBqBYojG20l845MaJJIu0Li51xxEgVY/s1600/IMG_0294%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6qVJ7Oqyi3XB3x_LV-yRZYLVHCXW2a6Q7Ti_NWFIejIxm8aiObaUw-yVsL2cSA37_TZYL-XHt6SpbHhqQDWbEyzv-77tluwcm6im6gv1RPdQVBqBYojG20l845MaJJIu0Li51xxEgVY/s1600/IMG_0294%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The piano room</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Long story short, I came alone (yet somehow with 3 small children), I saw that the bathrooms had vanities (another rarity here) and that the kitchen was red and I fell in love. <br /><br />Jack saw that it had a trampoline and some play equipment. I told him those things don't come with the house. "Actually, these ones do," the agent said. "The owners are moving to New Zealand and can't bring them." <br /><br />Jack smirked and reminded me that last week he had prayed for a house with a trampoline. And I knew that we were meant to be here.</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28gbD_OC6fmEldXYPYhk71PNwB_mgqc7j41_v1Cpda1hCxkryWA6PqiZVLU4unYi6Y4obzNQpFJmFXJ7WjVtNpFkr6Tqft9c72w6eRBPL7Z3HOQxji4FYNzOOftZ9QdO-TTZF0w2ymUw/s1600/IMG_0295%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28gbD_OC6fmEldXYPYhk71PNwB_mgqc7j41_v1Cpda1hCxkryWA6PqiZVLU4unYi6Y4obzNQpFJmFXJ7WjVtNpFkr6Tqft9c72w6eRBPL7Z3HOQxji4FYNzOOftZ9QdO-TTZF0w2ymUw/s1600/IMG_0295%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The utility room</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The cool part? Kim, my Salem friend who introduced me to Liz, is a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kimberly-Hosmer-at-HomeSmart-Realty-Group/239336132792251" target="_blank">real estate agent</a>. I would never have seen this place if it wasn't for Liz. So Kim, in other words, unwittingly found me a house on the other side of the world. She's good, folks. </span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZU64_4gc6mKTuONExW8G5rsYDltC0TLrfNlO76WuTuGx9hQuTcNo0VsPh2hnUpKUxMApsPG-siKl7MCY_h-Wz8BvIIu9CZ48WYBLI5x873MS8rD8VNUGeZh2F1xpQcprZqcT6vklIHY/s1600/IMG_0296%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZU64_4gc6mKTuONExW8G5rsYDltC0TLrfNlO76WuTuGx9hQuTcNo0VsPh2hnUpKUxMApsPG-siKl7MCY_h-Wz8BvIIu9CZ48WYBLI5x873MS8rD8VNUGeZh2F1xpQcprZqcT6vklIHY/s1600/IMG_0296%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Another view of the utility room. It's larger, thankfully, than most master bedrooms here in the UK.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Since then, it's been pure craziness. Moving internationally is wild, moving in December when you're easily guilted by perfect Facebook photos of your friends' perfect Christmas memories is a jungle on steroids. Part of me wants to title this post, "THIS IS THE WORST TIME OF THE YEAR TO MOVE EVER!"</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But then I think about the disaster in the Philippines, and the homeless, and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/SaveSaeed" target="_blank">Pastor Saeed</a>, and the older Reece's Rainbow kids who are coming close to <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/category/aging-out" target="_blank">forever losing their chance</a> at finding a family, and I realize that just to be sheltered, warm, fed and together is such a gift.</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbZxF9D1m8rAZu16QgDyc45Td5lBU-Y9DhyuWfq9ANnnMZ12uKznqBX6Kbd34YjnV2RWlXgoo5ztHH1_dTPssOMJ0vLugyBRXGQxLf88f6v04mSvKFaXC232db9LJTA-fCkNEkpstfms/s1600/IMG_0297%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbZxF9D1m8rAZu16QgDyc45Td5lBU-Y9DhyuWfq9ANnnMZ12uKznqBX6Kbd34YjnV2RWlXgoo5ztHH1_dTPssOMJ0vLugyBRXGQxLf88f6v04mSvKFaXC232db9LJTA-fCkNEkpstfms/s1600/IMG_0297%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Our little double garage. Our van doesn't fit, and to get MacGyver in, you have to fold the mirrors in. But hey, it's a garage, which is quite a find around here. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Some cliffnotes on British houses, and ours specifically:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Though the house is only 4 years old, it still doesn't have closets. This is a sore sticking point with me, obviously.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The doors do not have deadbolts; each individual door and window has its own key. In other words, this house has about 30 keys and I have locked myself <i>in</i> at least 3 times. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Kitchen sinks here do not have sprayers.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2pe96eKrJmQd3p93p4dyhQH4g-NBsU5W7rukzDYn9k1IEImxLr_QjlaTj2patibW9-zaBURQ8Oh6ZKUaAxXrWUDTk0ZxqDYRbqT1Tp7f6-JANCoPg19NTMvD88wMskNlFIlW6edtY0o/s1600/IMG_0298%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2pe96eKrJmQd3p93p4dyhQH4g-NBsU5W7rukzDYn9k1IEImxLr_QjlaTj2patibW9-zaBURQ8Oh6ZKUaAxXrWUDTk0ZxqDYRbqT1Tp7f6-JANCoPg19NTMvD88wMskNlFIlW6edtY0o/s1600/IMG_0298%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The utility room bathroom</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The walls are made of concrete, not drywall. So if you notice a sprinkling of bruises on any given limb of mine, don't worry. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Bathrooms don't have any outlets (except for a shaver plug; I have no idea why) or light switches. Instead, you dry/curl your hair elsewhere and the lights have long cords. Apparently, they don't worry about strangling lawsuits here. P.S. Jude is thrilled. With the cords, not the lack of lawsuits, although I'm sure he would be given the chance. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No screen doors; instead, they have window vents.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOVB_V4f4JlcJtnQ1ic481Bs1y6MjLIxNuyja5I5t6hZN1-pDTscoWr4onZ3BlcByCgdTiub2ZUnld6WFCfVwtQHVVeq1oNE59nNMSuMWGcP9bYv79Z3AP16hTNM7tgusG-cLyRv-N2M/s1600/IMG_0299%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOVB_V4f4JlcJtnQ1ic481Bs1y6MjLIxNuyja5I5t6hZN1-pDTscoWr4onZ3BlcByCgdTiub2ZUnld6WFCfVwtQHVVeq1oNE59nNMSuMWGcP9bYv79Z3AP16hTNM7tgusG-cLyRv-N2M/s1600/IMG_0299%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The kitchen leading into the dining room</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Each individual plug-in has its own off/on switch. Of course, it's not like we can use the vast majority since we have all American appliances and only two transformers that we drag all over the house. I will never take my Scentsy warmers for granted again.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The garage doors don't roll back, they lift up. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No hoses or water spigots out front. Apparently washing cars in such a mud-infested country is not a high priority. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The toilets hook straight into the vanities. </span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDl52euL2gmOqQGQFF1hssPo_prgLDkJs2W9EwCkE3kIYtiQYv7EM-1TU1tmKcb-ucEyN-hIFR4PyXZR3CBEl2byI2SeFOssigxW7JYcfO8fbFz6k6rDB_-HvMXv9eMonOLZ8AZEyG1mE/s1600/IMG_0300%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDl52euL2gmOqQGQFF1hssPo_prgLDkJs2W9EwCkE3kIYtiQYv7EM-1TU1tmKcb-ucEyN-hIFR4PyXZR3CBEl2byI2SeFOssigxW7JYcfO8fbFz6k6rDB_-HvMXv9eMonOLZ8AZEyG1mE/s1600/IMG_0300%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The lovely-sized backyard, complete with trampoline and playground</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGnc2KCeCv3N9EYHVj8JOYGFXw69el1nirr86WJ8hfxQ2OPLklhVRuawEEQ8PnpZxDyke_yN_B0TyFXM3VikA0yAL7IZ_SHshSNAkRJ1l7b4WVPrVWMDebkpVp8AvGDlqP992URt5ov0/s1600/IMG_0301%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGnc2KCeCv3N9EYHVj8JOYGFXw69el1nirr86WJ8hfxQ2OPLklhVRuawEEQ8PnpZxDyke_yN_B0TyFXM3VikA0yAL7IZ_SHshSNAkRJ1l7b4WVPrVWMDebkpVp8AvGDlqP992URt5ov0/s1600/IMG_0301%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Raised garden beds and a clothesline!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lsGQtlS1bHOZjYEBtYJbqHWfHOPZdTqrOGDeYURkvLTwXJEUwEcufN33jghXrQ5DTBiSCZyAR8lN258Yv9edeTYSNN1_FGU0MgSObDZ6_kpQHKXM0JqcvlA2fXxvcgn9bUpptaYZXSs/s1600/IMG_0302%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lsGQtlS1bHOZjYEBtYJbqHWfHOPZdTqrOGDeYURkvLTwXJEUwEcufN33jghXrQ5DTBiSCZyAR8lN258Yv9edeTYSNN1_FGU0MgSObDZ6_kpQHKXM0JqcvlA2fXxvcgn9bUpptaYZXSs/s1600/IMG_0302%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kitchen leads to the entryway and utility room</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The good: </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This place has 6 bathrooms. I would trade 3 of them, however, for a closet. If the Church of England doesn't have a patron saint of closets, it should. And fittingly, he/she wouldn't have any pockets. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/i-didnt-want-her-then-i-didnt-want-to.html" target="_blank">Celia</a> gets her own room. I'm praying this entices her to visit often. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For anyone who is thinking of visiting, you don't have to worry about your accommodations. You get your own guest suite, complete with bedroom, master bathroom and lounge area that closes off from the rest of the house.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0_3NnWNeLsQqd5UJz1vxIKMcniBQjz4WhwL4G9VHcbYdhEBak3sKMerHNVfH4QQtjbgFqaBmuzwzSzVVlp1ol-gxNFDPwEj5vvZubV1e6ZyG_JF3Bhmr8_yISVVBWH-kqbB5HIw3PXI/s1600/IMG_0303%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0_3NnWNeLsQqd5UJz1vxIKMcniBQjz4WhwL4G9VHcbYdhEBak3sKMerHNVfH4QQtjbgFqaBmuzwzSzVVlp1ol-gxNFDPwEj5vvZubV1e6ZyG_JF3Bhmr8_yISVVBWH-kqbB5HIw3PXI/s1600/IMG_0303%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Celia's room</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQA1ab44P-im9yh4uHrkV7QerKCcTlOoHW1hNTKUqW4Mdw0LEzEsRTCxay2vNV60tXVpwt5f43Yc38CcHaFCox9Yi1_x1e_SGHpfVV1r9_u692zr3-uzU_HGCLualUV8WnaaUrTUThVzs/s1600/IMG_0304%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQA1ab44P-im9yh4uHrkV7QerKCcTlOoHW1hNTKUqW4Mdw0LEzEsRTCxay2vNV60tXVpwt5f43Yc38CcHaFCox9Yi1_x1e_SGHpfVV1r9_u692zr3-uzU_HGCLualUV8WnaaUrTUThVzs/s1600/IMG_0304%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Our room, with a view into the backyard</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_XVDcCSncjc6x41AhvCBESiy1eaa7YYllTHQb1RMWXAG6KuMalVThJQGAeq-zouj91vcTX4dQ2aMviEUgZSj6Rs8V6ymf-FdngFXXrveyh5OtNJh_C6a0LUo3gGiO462HCeyXWeH73k/s1600/IMG_0305%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_XVDcCSncjc6x41AhvCBESiy1eaa7YYllTHQb1RMWXAG6KuMalVThJQGAeq-zouj91vcTX4dQ2aMviEUgZSj6Rs8V6ymf-FdngFXXrveyh5OtNJh_C6a0LUo3gGiO462HCeyXWeH73k/s1600/IMG_0305%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Thank goodness the owners had to move internationally. This wardrobe just wouldn't fit in their carry-on.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Speaking of visitors (and oh, we want you), we are only 20 minutes away from the beach, 15 minutes from the Queen's summer home and less than a 2-hour train ride to London.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3aJZz7r1Ov4u9_oMMf_TC5QYQzxC6vP9yngDmk6WGRiiGd4GSSt0USVLLgnjiOGQS4_MRvb4YPrPCq_HMZKQXtI6XxEQ_Wgtt0l-F8rnP3nH2Xs6XtaBn-qYKD07F6sL5OkU0TxV8jNo/s1600/IMG_0306%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3aJZz7r1Ov4u9_oMMf_TC5QYQzxC6vP9yngDmk6WGRiiGd4GSSt0USVLLgnjiOGQS4_MRvb4YPrPCq_HMZKQXtI6XxEQ_Wgtt0l-F8rnP3nH2Xs6XtaBn-qYKD07F6sL5OkU0TxV8jNo/s1600/IMG_0306%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Our bathroom, with a towel holder that even I have to bend down for. </span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLns-vIt-75qO913YgxSpiWD5jnpoe6mk6uLyMvYffi79QK7eJZ6ahOWKAa2Yd2tJsCzvVGn3PepuiBI_lAYCA2sLYzqFtiKaDv0A5654m4LiTjCHYPAX-0u5yrbO4BmT29HvP-5tSdY/s1600/IMG_0307%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLns-vIt-75qO913YgxSpiWD5jnpoe6mk6uLyMvYffi79QK7eJZ6ahOWKAa2Yd2tJsCzvVGn3PepuiBI_lAYCA2sLYzqFtiKaDv0A5654m4LiTjCHYPAX-0u5yrbO4BmT29HvP-5tSdY/s1600/IMG_0307%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Our shower</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhza0Mfoh_O5HtV6dcj85oD8f1Qf6DcBEJ1jnro9loBTjvJ4rHGPCnlf9cIFMF-UYo7PDH1H-JzUwEBl8AX_kjm_ZrCdAKWNT7nM93_ahDqjS7LWQmI3rMLrhFaEh0QR20ArRoSjLn-wOA/s1600/IMG_0308%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhza0Mfoh_O5HtV6dcj85oD8f1Qf6DcBEJ1jnro9loBTjvJ4rHGPCnlf9cIFMF-UYo7PDH1H-JzUwEBl8AX_kjm_ZrCdAKWNT7nM93_ahDqjS7LWQmI3rMLrhFaEh0QR20ArRoSjLn-wOA/s1600/IMG_0308%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The family bathroom</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We live in a town of 1400 people. Lots of farms and pretty views. Not so many sidewalks, street lights or other safety features.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The church here is called St. Nicholas and was built in 1216. <i>1216, folks</i>. Prince William, Prince Harry and Pippa Middleton attended a wedding here a few years ago. To which my mom will roll her eyes and say, "So?"</span></li>
</ul>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB1WilTHGCcMHOd32enexQ_O3w9cwFwm_OKv-4AJNtdV8mPA611VVh2NS_ZshFW_TewPSDr362lKanIwvChXu1A6GMAvceZrfTYXfsWrJykmPZ2-og490SjgIE1ifVDIZOXwXrFo1GPvk/s1600/IMG_0309%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB1WilTHGCcMHOd32enexQ_O3w9cwFwm_OKv-4AJNtdV8mPA611VVh2NS_ZshFW_TewPSDr362lKanIwvChXu1A6GMAvceZrfTYXfsWrJykmPZ2-og490SjgIE1ifVDIZOXwXrFo1GPvk/s1600/IMG_0309%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Avinly's room, of course. It was already pink.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNxtfQnFC1LW4ISESeaPkr-f29s-wDIsVQsNSGspAhq_XlyPgTJC5jWOyXXly_TsY5LlYX_jh-ntYhPrZQI6cbaFBNA9VeRe1WkqmZhgB0txUmhqOXz3VY7-VyfYH8G0Id92O8IRiBq8/s1600/IMG_0310%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNxtfQnFC1LW4ISESeaPkr-f29s-wDIsVQsNSGspAhq_XlyPgTJC5jWOyXXly_TsY5LlYX_jh-ntYhPrZQI6cbaFBNA9VeRe1WkqmZhgB0txUmhqOXz3VY7-VyfYH8G0Id92O8IRiBq8/s1600/IMG_0310%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack and Jude's room</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkrtAqxtDjBIGZiEbE5GZlywlNjQ6350mI-oQ6g-VaAutiwHcx9_F2ao6z3Ke0TqHV7E_zouIsy8-FZPiXO2Du1CzwXu-dUsYl9FF2a35-StOlI-9JbQWPcDdDHIT8YkP2P8TNlsptOk/s1600/IMG_0311%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkrtAqxtDjBIGZiEbE5GZlywlNjQ6350mI-oQ6g-VaAutiwHcx9_F2ao6z3Ke0TqHV7E_zouIsy8-FZPiXO2Du1CzwXu-dUsYl9FF2a35-StOlI-9JbQWPcDdDHIT8YkP2P8TNlsptOk/s1600/IMG_0311%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's so weird that a) our stuff actually made it all the way across the world and b) they managed to fit a semi on our one-lane road. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Acorn Drive has about 10 houses. The occupants include several doctors and scientists and one Formula One racer at the end. And then there's us.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7a9fVYybZ3JXNIYhmJPCRerpkUOs5caq10m928R0k7F_oXffjT0tkmd__oj5kqzviKswHUVHs-fASplK8qZFLoSUrgsdkcRJV4ocMXXeP_8yNbzghVHRJI6wENmQKF5OUZ0f9o7Z2xs/s1600/IMG_0312%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7a9fVYybZ3JXNIYhmJPCRerpkUOs5caq10m928R0k7F_oXffjT0tkmd__oj5kqzviKswHUVHs-fASplK8qZFLoSUrgsdkcRJV4ocMXXeP_8yNbzghVHRJI6wENmQKF5OUZ0f9o7Z2xs/s1600/IMG_0312%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The boys' bathroom</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9ERZ2ThNisQRuwzBS3575TSrlxist-f-zPXDaY4pukX3i9MJCYe91A1uwYAicHbGNK-mTuqiD-52qouid4ESp40t-2HQJadEJqoOn1vr6r8SSdz7BgE9ntHLFy2nUXaLNNzGDJwM8q0/s1600/IMG_0313%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9ERZ2ThNisQRuwzBS3575TSrlxist-f-zPXDaY4pukX3i9MJCYe91A1uwYAicHbGNK-mTuqiD-52qouid4ESp40t-2HQJadEJqoOn1vr6r8SSdz7BgE9ntHLFy2nUXaLNNzGDJwM8q0/s1600/IMG_0313%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The hallway leading to the guest suite</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0WIbkUjuUWt5uZmI4Wzk1p6u4Aaad_gg9_Hw_NzgrMmkt-Rslbq91JAGzJlEA9AOoT0Gk1PDoWBjf5y8tukdyRWvY5UK2maXco5VCsnDH7ziAxbXYDSBBQKOCX3GbO_Ol5tUlPh4h8g/s1600/IMG_0314%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0WIbkUjuUWt5uZmI4Wzk1p6u4Aaad_gg9_Hw_NzgrMmkt-Rslbq91JAGzJlEA9AOoT0Gk1PDoWBjf5y8tukdyRWvY5UK2maXco5VCsnDH7ziAxbXYDSBBQKOCX3GbO_Ol5tUlPh4h8g/s1600/IMG_0314%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The guest bedroom...not quite ready for visitors, but by next month, it will be!</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I unpacked box #198 (at least that's what it felt like), I pulled out a bar of soap and smelled it. Tears pooled in my eyes before I even realized why. <br /><br />I closed my eyes and was transported back to a great hall back in Sunriver, Oregon. People milled around the booths showcasing their Christmas crafts and homemade goods for sale. Mom and I strolled, stopping at every booth, examining almost everything in Riddle woman tradition. <br /><br />We came to the <a href="http://www.bendsoap.com/" target="_blank">Bend Soap Company. </a>A lifelong sucker for the smell of peppermint, I zeroed in on the candy cane soap but didn't buy it.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUo_bO5BtoAwOv7XSxd4H5si7Cz8fn6XxwXOyiopU6McrhPJnpFSNuhNYCkKwYow-GquzE-uv7pXgO0GKBAI-jVxztU5PqGxqiUN82jmncpcZFEZWVZSd4sDz3NXyahN5JC29T3eTLwSk/s1600/IMG_0316%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUo_bO5BtoAwOv7XSxd4H5si7Cz8fn6XxwXOyiopU6McrhPJnpFSNuhNYCkKwYow-GquzE-uv7pXgO0GKBAI-jVxztU5PqGxqiUN82jmncpcZFEZWVZSd4sDz3NXyahN5JC29T3eTLwSk/s1600/IMG_0316%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Guest bathroom, or "ensuite" as the British call it</span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Christmas morning came, and of course, the soap was in my stocking. I didn't think much of it at the time; it was just some yummy soap that smelled nice from a mother who loves to buy me little things she knows I like.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But now, surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam of 9 years of marriage and 6 years of motherhood, this soap suddenly meant so much more. They say the sense of smell is most strongly associated with memory, and I guess it's true. <br /><br />Because in that moment, I would have traded anything just to be shopping with my mom again.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfnMh47xtezhk2AiqKXRcYeDGvgX3w-S01QzVH6qtGz9HUrh91Fhi0u5wvt_4jbkeo_dMZSFnfZBJIodhDEakEn40rQv-gAVDwNPfHVfKukhamzqZZVwrzbaL9Zq_qoiJ1f4DCXBAixA/s1600/IMG_0317%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfnMh47xtezhk2AiqKXRcYeDGvgX3w-S01QzVH6qtGz9HUrh91Fhi0u5wvt_4jbkeo_dMZSFnfZBJIodhDEakEn40rQv-gAVDwNPfHVfKukhamzqZZVwrzbaL9Zq_qoiJ1f4DCXBAixA/s1600/IMG_0317%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Life goes on in the midst of a move, especially with a future interior designer in the house!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The candy cane is so much more than a sugary December treat. It was created to represent the great Shephard's suffering (google "legend of the candy cane" sometime). The sweetness is ever-present, yes -- but it also is mixed in with the red, the representation of Christ's blood shed to save us. <br /><br />And this move has been like that. Gratitude for what we have, sadness over what we're missing back home. Sweet yet bitter with the knowledge of what someone else suffered so we could be free. <br /><br />It's candy cane complicated. </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-70077610973128865062013-12-04T08:53:00.002-08:002013-12-04T11:35:22.906-08:00My 2nd at 3 (Happy Birthday, Jude)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgakE6dlQ4IMYFr_Zd6TI4fMbvNqB3pR-4_zISIXKHK7SaOn6Tu-PJRRw3CAd8cFpGlJ92tzcuxh8Bel9XXkBDtzOtK15IB_5FRNHLzCZrTUb8QxbI-PmgdRSul5m5_OzbxK1GKh2fTuGY/s1600/134245_484331761480_5559138_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgakE6dlQ4IMYFr_Zd6TI4fMbvNqB3pR-4_zISIXKHK7SaOn6Tu-PJRRw3CAd8cFpGlJ92tzcuxh8Bel9XXkBDtzOtK15IB_5FRNHLzCZrTUb8QxbI-PmgdRSul5m5_OzbxK1GKh2fTuGY/s640/134245_484331761480_5559138_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />I look at this innocent boy above, this flaky-fresh body of my and my husband's making, and I marvel again. Is that really my Jude? Was he ever really that tiny? Was I actually basking in the <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/jude-my-manly-praise-of-judea.html" target="_blank">I-did-it high of birth</a> at this time exactly three years ago? <br /><br />And was Jack ever really <i>that</i> gentle with his younger brother? This might be the last photographic evidence of tenderness and affection between these two, folks.</span><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /><br />And it was posed</span></i>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ahem.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6YdGG9qLqP-S6sYtJU4VWw72b7GcmAkNYmL3zRZtZ90GbS4DiRisOfou_HfgXzgrjOST7UbhWfhWrKdWnMaJJRevVagjRlrV3C8nvNnBFgz8WivfQ-f1lAhA9LvteTcPYqfb9BQMiIw/s1600/132354_484335051480_2856718_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6YdGG9qLqP-S6sYtJU4VWw72b7GcmAkNYmL3zRZtZ90GbS4DiRisOfou_HfgXzgrjOST7UbhWfhWrKdWnMaJJRevVagjRlrV3C8nvNnBFgz8WivfQ-f1lAhA9LvteTcPYqfb9BQMiIw/s640/132354_484335051480_2856718_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLJDi5fcVER4qKQeMFaHtJ9xr_9c6x2_97Vd4JSaZKNO8B5ztFTzxZCJmG6imAoi8FBGNy5Pa1GGvl2sT8BnKBTekofPA5b4fFnJv0ngQbfqDxgzf4OWv6k9WJrIwRAORkNUsCauvHkA/s1600/135634_482435231480_2875032_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLJDi5fcVER4qKQeMFaHtJ9xr_9c6x2_97Vd4JSaZKNO8B5ztFTzxZCJmG6imAoi8FBGNy5Pa1GGvl2sT8BnKBTekofPA5b4fFnJv0ngQbfqDxgzf4OWv6k9WJrIwRAORkNUsCauvHkA/s640/135634_482435231480_2875032_o.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On Jack's third birthday, just two weeks before Jude arrived, we threw a massive, super-creative John Deere party. There was around 40 people at our house to toast the birthday boy, complete with a pinata, photo spot, games and matching cake. <br /><br />On Jude's third birthday, however...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GnVGYSqOsz-AHbD4P-WVyjOHkHlpHUjQ-KmDixxz00FwqU4hkdZLOoyZ4ha3lYcJUdCxe5Zr8wUn2hyphenhyphenp1htIAynh-i8xj0Bv8GaVFxhxQzmPNzQOwgQWPfRXjNfk1My9hQVflOTSipU/s1600/IMG_0240%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GnVGYSqOsz-AHbD4P-WVyjOHkHlpHUjQ-KmDixxz00FwqU4hkdZLOoyZ4ha3lYcJUdCxe5Zr8wUn2hyphenhyphenp1htIAynh-i8xj0Bv8GaVFxhxQzmPNzQOwgQWPfRXjNfk1My9hQVflOTSipU/s640/IMG_0240%255B1%255D.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">...we Face-Timed with the
grandparents from a foreign hotel room, for starters. We had a party of
five, including the birthday boy, and only four could say the phrase,
"Happy Birthday, Jude."<br /><br />But there WAS a basketball and hoop involved -- guaranteed winners in Jude's world. And the mama and the daddy rejoice, for long has this little man outgrown his baby hoop and ball. <br /></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We went to the on-base jungle gym for an hour before church, and Nick, true to his awesome-daddy self, organized a rousing game of hide-and-seek. Jude can count to 20, but sometimes, just to be goofy, he gets a little off-track. And then tries to cheat.<br /><br />The evidence:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After a children's church Christmas pageant -- "Since when do the wise men have British accents, Mommy?" -- it was time for requested mac 'n cheese and cheap Sainsbury's cupcakes, complete with candles I had managed to throw in the suitcase before leaving the States nearly a month before. (But had neglected to use for Jack's special day. Go figure.) The fire that lit the candles came courtesy of a forgotten lighter in a borrowed jacket pocket. <br /><br />It was birthday serendipity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here, then, are Jude's facts of three:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">His favorite foods are pizza, mac 'n cheese, PB&Js, deli meat, cereal (he eats more than me in the morning!) and anything sweet.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">His prized possession is his brown-and-white baby blanket, given to him by his grandpa's boss' wife. Do <i>not</i> mess with Jude's blanket. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jude is just starting to understand the concept of friendship. His favorite little buddies are Lizzie, Maura, Ezra and his cousins Nina and Amelia.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocRE6ONC2z83BYvKfPpzvf77CNv0OMV7vEvM-Dj5aIgqYQiK4vov7dZ8FYiE5yuzLk9tgh-4NjxuCMbDW91sCDVgMycWBNKhqoddYaeIXt7QBYD616xn6yTr18Bt3S0R-X2Kk1ny8TQo/s1600/IMG_0279%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocRE6ONC2z83BYvKfPpzvf77CNv0OMV7vEvM-Dj5aIgqYQiK4vov7dZ8FYiE5yuzLk9tgh-4NjxuCMbDW91sCDVgMycWBNKhqoddYaeIXt7QBYD616xn6yTr18Bt3S0R-X2Kk1ny8TQo/s640/IMG_0279%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<ul style="text-align: center;">
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> He can count to 20 and recognizes every letter. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">His favorite books (surprise, surprise) all revolve around sports. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Besides Nick and me, Jude is Avinly's favorite person. He can get her to smile every time, and watching the interaction between them is seriously heart-melting.</span></li>
</ul>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1Mg5LBKmgtj1fVH9sKHNYDt_YXOpdaaQYdpAZpdYgghSJTinMS7uV4iJOQia2zuNqj65OO3K5fOhFmeExz5zqPbFh6gsvuyIdPTK9mVhg39BgwXYYzeWcm6F5XXHg0oK33UyJuCBFv4/s1600/IMG_5654%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1Mg5LBKmgtj1fVH9sKHNYDt_YXOpdaaQYdpAZpdYgghSJTinMS7uV4iJOQia2zuNqj65OO3K5fOhFmeExz5zqPbFh6gsvuyIdPTK9mVhg39BgwXYYzeWcm6F5XXHg0oK33UyJuCBFv4/s640/IMG_5654%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What a good big brother!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Every Sunday (no matter what church we're at) he throws a fit when it's time to go. "But I don't WANT to weab!"</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When asked, he will bat his looooong eyelashes on command.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">His hand-eye coordination is ridiculously advanced for his age, if I do say so myself. I'm guessing that if it existed, he would hold the two-year-old free-throw game record at Chuck E. Cheese. Catching, throwing, pitching, batting -- heck, he can even beat Jack at bowling!</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2y5zFv_2c2FYbTC5EPVxUoUSHg58dwwpiGj6ZHY_nc7mhkAWxHF93wETrCxCafNjy63Cx6Re5FmnXXw5yx6eQhkIgARAkM2VxJpcvK3OvuTvuzn5RuM31EFpwPrPX0QM3jgGPdVVkEJw/s1600/IMG_5683%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2y5zFv_2c2FYbTC5EPVxUoUSHg58dwwpiGj6ZHY_nc7mhkAWxHF93wETrCxCafNjy63Cx6Re5FmnXXw5yx6eQhkIgARAkM2VxJpcvK3OvuTvuzn5RuM31EFpwPrPX0QM3jgGPdVVkEJw/s640/IMG_5683%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">He is his father's child FOR SURE.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jude is definitely a second child. He rolls with the punches, shares so much better than a certain firstborn did at the same age and just wants everyone to have a good time.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He is just starting to learn the concept of a joke, and his attempts are all spectacularly awful...but still so cute. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">His personality? About as goofy and hammy as they come!</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8U9UALuVVCmCiyUCnsG0jZAgyHdvD1BkR14meDXkhl45iKZOwBZEJk4kGsm-zcl29ILNUzOIUd7q3xfcxNaI5f16JRsx_tBLGhSF2hznX3KAOhkLIrEfVZH87ne-sj8n4stG5Hj5Z5Q/s1600/IMG_5685%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8U9UALuVVCmCiyUCnsG0jZAgyHdvD1BkR14meDXkhl45iKZOwBZEJk4kGsm-zcl29ILNUzOIUd7q3xfcxNaI5f16JRsx_tBLGhSF2hznX3KAOhkLIrEfVZH87ne-sj8n4stG5Hj5Z5Q/s640/IMG_5685%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Arguing and fighting with his big brother are full-time occupations.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yet he often sighs, "I miss Jack!" during a normal school day. (Who remembers what that's like? Not us!</span>)</li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Following in Jack's footsteps, he looks EXACTLY like his Grandpa Dale did at this age. And okay, me too. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He has wildly blessed our lives, and I thank God I didn't let the trauma of an <a href="http://crystalkupper.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/how-i-healed-part-i.html" target="_blank">awful first birth</a> keep me from having another child. He is the longed-for second son of our hearts, and we wouldn't trade him for anything!</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhww62hbPCeqINcHHLSK87I_rpyQGv21O5OekKLADRxj5thPzdfpepj5TjfSyLv8q6zs8GT5Hbue8A8YkxVq8Uf5rAzXEq2aQOpp-ZjWtH98D6axIiZytlW3tc7vuQTEQiPN6oKZ-c8k/s1600/IMG_5783%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhww62hbPCeqINcHHLSK87I_rpyQGv21O5OekKLADRxj5thPzdfpepj5TjfSyLv8q6zs8GT5Hbue8A8YkxVq8Uf5rAzXEq2aQOpp-ZjWtH98D6axIiZytlW3tc7vuQTEQiPN6oKZ-c8k/s640/IMG_5783%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Messy spaghetti face!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Happy third birthday, Jude Andrew!</span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-81630586074988529032013-11-30T13:05:00.000-08:002013-12-27T07:43:23.486-08:00The Hurt of Love<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My mom swallowed hard, trying but failing to contain her tears, and I followed suit. My dad tugged on my braid (universal man-speak for everything from <i>I love you and am going to miss you</i> to <i>I have no idea what to say or do right now</i>)</span>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">They both hugged me harder than ever before the gate attendant called my flight number for the final time. We reluctantly let go, furiously giving last-second hugs and kisses. And then, shoulders squared, hands held and babies hipped, Nick and I marched onto the plane and into our future. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It hurt. Ripping one solid unit in half tends to do that. <br /><br />But in the nearly four weeks since we left Oregon for England, it has occurred to me that the pain is a massive blessing. <br /><br />It means we have someone to miss, someone waiting for us back home, someone who prays for us constantly. Every time a wave of homesickness hits me, I try to remember that it's better to love and hurt from the loss than to feel nothing at all. </span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />I and my babies are ridiculously blessed that way. Not only do we have untold family members sending us gifts, cards, texts and messages just to say they love us, but also smaller, often-overlooked niceties that we can be just as thankful for. <br /><br />We can color a penguin dubbed Pengo and watch proudly as the bank teller tacks it onto her wall. <br /><br />We get to play Temple Run while a military barber chops off our curly locks (<i>no tears from any of you, please, I think it looks fantastic and his curls, like always, will grow back!)</i>.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcuhot5SU_QTOk6BxLo-dQRcvduv2PxFVMVTHLSV9aX5_uzhIZSprfTZ-KkrQk6_pxScLwlJOR9NGnLfY5ZfuRWB9OMcST8531Y6PYMwHmDSxufBRq2BdKXf-Sb0ov58fzgOCOtfbnrA/s1600/IMG_0091%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcuhot5SU_QTOk6BxLo-dQRcvduv2PxFVMVTHLSV9aX5_uzhIZSprfTZ-KkrQk6_pxScLwlJOR9NGnLfY5ZfuRWB9OMcST8531Y6PYMwHmDSxufBRq2BdKXf-Sb0ov58fzgOCOtfbnrA/s640/IMG_0091%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We even get rewarded with a sucker for behaving during said haircut. And look like a kindergarten thug while enjoying it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99J3_ptE4NbZzfzFJqDVb1v3vKDj5-qWn6YD-gPbBzDMfoXBqZD3USN7-0rvGTfJjew9N-x-dBupkY-PkbyiC01JKLldQlFh1w6wH7ZrB9VYo_NF2YI2XbFJ6ot8i88YUj2j1HSiyMYw/s1600/IMG_0092%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99J3_ptE4NbZzfzFJqDVb1v3vKDj5-qWn6YD-gPbBzDMfoXBqZD3USN7-0rvGTfJjew9N-x-dBupkY-PkbyiC01JKLldQlFh1w6wH7ZrB9VYo_NF2YI2XbFJ6ot8i88YUj2j1HSiyMYw/s640/IMG_0092%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We can enjoy the wonder of an automatic carwash. (What must she be thinking?!?)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBoRvcizQpoL1cQKFNhapM0H79GdmOZfZmwjGXfsk9pJ8crE-jYLxGhCi9e3wRj347ZmO_qigeWfi54JE5WaoARmsrZ2IpOVExsJM9HMreS6PXLBSz0X1slSKbyTWeQ5SjhEnW80cZz0/s1600/IMG_0097%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBoRvcizQpoL1cQKFNhapM0H79GdmOZfZmwjGXfsk9pJ8crE-jYLxGhCi9e3wRj347ZmO_qigeWfi54JE5WaoARmsrZ2IpOVExsJM9HMreS6PXLBSz0X1slSKbyTWeQ5SjhEnW80cZz0/s640/IMG_0097%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We have an insane amount of toys given by people who would die for us if the situation called for it. We have our imaginations, our completely-healthy bodies, dozens of friends all over the map, an education, the church body, freedom to be and do and go wherever we want. To infinity and beyond, even.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And if all else fails -- if the internet tanks and we can't FaceTime with relatives back home, if we're constantly coughing and/or freezing from the damp British air, if suitcase living gets to be too much, if patience wears thin -- the Kuppers always have each other. We are alive, we are healthy, we are happy. <br /><br />We are family, and we help each other up when one of us falls and is too weak to get back up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Or not...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In all seriousness, November has made me realize anew how blessed my little family is, simply because we <i>have</i> the gift of family. <br /><br />Not everyone is so lucky. And that's why this month isn't just for turkeys and Black Friday sales -- it's also <a href="https://www.childwelfare.gov/adoption/nam/" target="_blank">National Adoption Month</a></span>. <br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I
realize adoption can seem either like a fairy-tale (as an adoptive
sister, I can assure you it's anything but) or a nightmare (once again,
trust me when I say you eventually wake up). I understand why people
look at our and other adoptive families and say, "There's no way I could
ever do that. It's just too (hard, expensive, time-consuming,
heart-breaking, or any other number of negative adjectives)."<br /><br />Yeah, adoption is hard. It can be expensive, time-consuming and everything else people say about it. <br /><br />But
it can also be wonderful, a dream come true, a life-changing
experience, joy-filled, funny, magical, educational and any other number
of positive things. Usually, it's a mixture of both. <br /><br />Beauty
side-by-side with ugliness. Glimpses of heaven mixed with horrifying
peeks into hell. Laughter combined with tears. A dream injected with a
heavy dose of reality. <br /><br />Pain and joy, all together. <br /><br />As a <a href="http://www.reecesrainbow.com/" target="_blank">Reece's Rainbow</a></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">volunteer,
I daily see beautiful faces -- real lives -- waiting to find their
forever families. Some of them have extreme needs, others barely a blip
on the special-needs map. Most of them have significant grants that majorly reduce the financial burden of international adoption (and trust me, I will help you raise the rest!).<br /><br />Yet ALL require the love of an imperfect
family. For most, international adoption is their last defense against
slow starvation, or even worse, an abusive, premature death at an adult mental institution. <br /><br />I'll bet <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/8341/felix5201" target="_blank">Felix</a></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">would LOVE to feel sad when his mom leaves for a dentist appointment.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxbw1BvXxreePvMGkKHYITSYHAJZ1Mnv0C9OJAfbXQP4tnCtMdF5m3F1gFnsyCSmmrUPxdTaOKDHpUlKkm_D9Vmmi0w-afy1mB25tJihuONqYXue9wqgsc_YsAzQvByVzoSsjj57v5HK8/s1600/felix-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxbw1BvXxreePvMGkKHYITSYHAJZ1Mnv0C9OJAfbXQP4tnCtMdF5m3F1gFnsyCSmmrUPxdTaOKDHpUlKkm_D9Vmmi0w-afy1mB25tJihuONqYXue9wqgsc_YsAzQvByVzoSsjj57v5HK8/s400/felix-1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I would guess that twins <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/51936/nadia-nancy" target="_blank">Nadia and Nancy</a></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">would KILL to get into arguments with their siblings over who gets to sit in Dad's lap while he reads a story at bedtime. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-laluasIhFDsoFHtjR8sNJ2KI7w7a96J4Q-gYpLxUmx-C_nh48Ev7QnD-iVU0pboClvBsmvcbUbqHodtj28vpRuzT0rp_WhpUtwwUv5Ne8VNSa24kloj2R_TVH_8Stn5br2112lHjXw/s1600/21221094614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-laluasIhFDsoFHtjR8sNJ2KI7w7a96J4Q-gYpLxUmx-C_nh48Ev7QnD-iVU0pboClvBsmvcbUbqHodtj28vpRuzT0rp_WhpUtwwUv5Ne8VNSa24kloj2R_TVH_8Stn5br2112lHjXw/s400/21221094614.jpg" width="307" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOHSagGNNKhoGNX7m35vub0ino5QERkrOdW44rILIIB3yBAabgNGbgqoUeNHqXEyhc1iWqEAMVB2OfUDDgSquFEClnCD1Kc3CTbTMUUuQEYBvhoc6_LGc1IiB9VoaVmXNEunhegKNhC4/s1600/21221093758-200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOHSagGNNKhoGNX7m35vub0ino5QERkrOdW44rILIIB3yBAabgNGbgqoUeNHqXEyhc1iWqEAMVB2OfUDDgSquFEClnCD1Kc3CTbTMUUuQEYBvhoc6_LGc1IiB9VoaVmXNEunhegKNhC4/s400/21221093758-200x300.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm thinking sweet, ginger-haired <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/63210/joshua" target="_blank">Joshua</a></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">wouldn't
mind the pain of an impatient, snappy remark from his mom...because
that would mean he had someone to forgive later on, complete with
snuggles and kisses. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEEEddQ30S1fw7OzQjjpJIuO0Ix4E-C5xz989w5W36MzTakvGPiueg7FS2bSCTmW_Q4Sqt0nCXVEs6ibrg8KVOAPCziSHDjk38wmlujwrKKmcTMDLwmQ9tXmFS4D5TjQSWjbZ3_orX6aQ/s1600/24092013323-252x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEEEddQ30S1fw7OzQjjpJIuO0Ix4E-C5xz989w5W36MzTakvGPiueg7FS2bSCTmW_Q4Sqt0nCXVEs6ibrg8KVOAPCziSHDjk38wmlujwrKKmcTMDLwmQ9tXmFS4D5TjQSWjbZ3_orX6aQ/s400/24092013323-252x300.jpg" width="336" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />I'm sure <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/60452/mindy" target="_blank">Mindy</a>
-- who has mere weeks to find her family before her country kills off
that chance forever -- misses the mom and dad she has never met, and
wonders if she's worthy of someone coming halfway across the world to
rescue her. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6yXfmgk2c1jzYFPq3ZdgT-Eij5e3vtOiqW3WrS-irCFOUF5LMck3PsONyk8XNwbfKWfub-LWrbpo42nH2elxrDTm1e1t755W8VpKFpwCZLLTAWb_a9s99Wo1WDsJkmsrjr7cKVbAOaY/s1600/Mindy-2-200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6yXfmgk2c1jzYFPq3ZdgT-Eij5e3vtOiqW3WrS-irCFOUF5LMck3PsONyk8XNwbfKWfub-LWrbpo42nH2elxrDTm1e1t755W8VpKFpwCZLLTAWb_a9s99Wo1WDsJkmsrjr7cKVbAOaY/s400/Mindy-2-200x300.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />I'm positive that <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/69483/eliah" target="_blank">Eliah</a>,
with only a cleft lip and palate, would give his right arm to one day
cry as he hops onto a plane, leaving his family behind, to journey into a
bright, secure future with a wife and children by his side. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1Lp_GiuOp98hclSyeasRN_jZASw8JYfVwqhm4ouqPuNMJqK-n1bvfNzqyoYsuzHSS1pokf6nbKrnx5yo2MWgqzxBfxnsAjzPZ9xAqQgYylGQGy3BSzZWWf7Q5sxeIN07bJyK4cAQQBk/s1600/Eliah-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1Lp_GiuOp98hclSyeasRN_jZASw8JYfVwqhm4ouqPuNMJqK-n1bvfNzqyoYsuzHSS1pokf6nbKrnx5yo2MWgqzxBfxnsAjzPZ9xAqQgYylGQGy3BSzZWWf7Q5sxeIN07bJyK4cAQQBk/s400/Eliah-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And I know that <a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/63500/ruben" target="_blank">Ruben</a>, at the top of his class and bilingual, wouldn't mind being in my shoes at the moment. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaSn1QJ8lC9W0YFLNrnW70E5CyGFQgv1x7ecR2109f45ODYy6EE0jEP2Yq7XejUEXM2JgPHsLu7lE8ybSU0fWWuv6LzhH7rIMqKy5LFPQSrxKh3DQT3mmVQB6HprauX8QDZm7It16cu-U/s1600/Ruben-225x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaSn1QJ8lC9W0YFLNrnW70E5CyGFQgv1x7ecR2109f45ODYy6EE0jEP2Yq7XejUEXM2JgPHsLu7lE8ybSU0fWWuv6LzhH7rIMqKy5LFPQSrxKh3DQT3mmVQB6HprauX8QDZm7It16cu-U/s400/Ruben-225x300.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />My pain, compared to these kids', is minimal. Missing my family and friends, in fact, is a blessing in disguise. <br /><br />The <i>real </i>heartbreak comes when I realize that so many of these precious kids will never feel the hurt of love...unless you and I do something. <br /><br />Will you join me? <br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Update: </span><span style="font-size: small;">Since I wrote, Mindy, unfortunately, has aged out of her country's program and will never be adopted. Nadia and Nancy, while still adoptable, have been transferred to an adult mental institution, which, in reality, will probably slowly kill them. But Joshua and Felix, thankfully, have found families. Eliah and Ruben still wait.</span></strong></span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-9601860224315299612013-11-28T14:41:00.000-08:002013-11-28T23:51:46.220-08:00To Avinly on Her 1st Thanksgiving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKgUrvlyvi1i82_umD4oBOcXxRJMFuU_-s1uDqWlpC5EVIIIcbPylf10Cllqp7FrqNylVplwGMCiIUp1KIQsvwBJuTNm3uYqt3tQOY5-YxRHF2KmG-qReRWJaou0KotyolKRMViSEdV0/s1600/IMG_0077%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKgUrvlyvi1i82_umD4oBOcXxRJMFuU_-s1uDqWlpC5EVIIIcbPylf10Cllqp7FrqNylVplwGMCiIUp1KIQsvwBJuTNm3uYqt3tQOY5-YxRHF2KmG-qReRWJaou0KotyolKRMViSEdV0/s640/IMG_0077%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today, Avinly, was your first Thanksgiving. And while you and your brothers you are already tucked away in bed, your cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles back home haven't even taken the turkey out of the oven. Like the very first Thanksgiving's participants, you experienced your thankful holiday's debut far, far away from home. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /><br />Unlike the Pilgrims, however, at least we have a post office, the handwriting of your loved ones bringing your mama much comfort.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1uqnARSS5QpJro1xFiEQyEmNoxNFqKKh11QGX4vi2_m1Aq-zRtCaA46ND-ejDK0CtVgoLMKf9xF_s5-nabZIOeMNBHTsrve6VB9mJaHZAr3oZuWmvjbVizHwcYKUhnQK7QrzpTZqLXgg/s1600/IMG_0103%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1uqnARSS5QpJro1xFiEQyEmNoxNFqKKh11QGX4vi2_m1Aq-zRtCaA46ND-ejDK0CtVgoLMKf9xF_s5-nabZIOeMNBHTsrve6VB9mJaHZAr3oZuWmvjbVizHwcYKUhnQK7QrzpTZqLXgg/s640/IMG_0103%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For the first time in my 28 years, I spent Thanksgiving away from my family. Your brothers, accustomed to long hours playing with cousins while their mothers prep in the kitchen, wondered why this Thanksgiving would be different than the others. Why couldn't we just go back home? I realize that for at least several more years, it will be normal for you to say hi to your grandparents over the phone on the fourth Thursday in November instead of leaning in for a hug. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /><br />And, aided by my 7-miler this morning around the barbed-wired base perimeter, my heart simultaneously cracks and heals, the little fissures making room for new experiences, new friendships, new memories, even as the pain hits. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu5g1w217aokZOW7b90Jzi29Tz2j6rOGOATYv_Vnp1G1Gnxc0pI1KNgaMU-APTLTklghyphenhyphenqzlGl1E9v4J9s-5X0FEaplDsiJBQj7UDUeLpZF9IhIKwO1zeU1974xLAzKg9WSpX7hNUD258/s1600/IMG_0106%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu5g1w217aokZOW7b90Jzi29Tz2j6rOGOATYv_Vnp1G1Gnxc0pI1KNgaMU-APTLTklghyphenhyphenqzlGl1E9v4J9s-5X0FEaplDsiJBQj7UDUeLpZF9IhIKwO1zeU1974xLAzKg9WSpX7hNUD258/s640/IMG_0106%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thankfully, the setting for your first Thanksgiving was not a lonely hotel room. Instead, it was a rambling farmhouse in the country, beautifully decorated and filled with people, kids, dogs and wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. Though we have only been in this country for three weeks, we scored a dinner invitation from some awesome hosts. (Who we met, by the way, through friends of friends <i>of friends </i>via Facebook. The world is small, though still so very large.).</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEpSYp-NKVbIjrE7K-gGyGvLf9C49kqds80SxqPGeosDLu7zjj-7OJC6cQjaHTYCH_SGi4AdMsBxtpL9Qmwfuwbpb7NtiUOLRcnVQf7WZO6rt5YFX-FreQwFxcq6hOeHUWQgNg8FU1_4/s1600/IMG_0108%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEpSYp-NKVbIjrE7K-gGyGvLf9C49kqds80SxqPGeosDLu7zjj-7OJC6cQjaHTYCH_SGi4AdMsBxtpL9Qmwfuwbpb7NtiUOLRcnVQf7WZO6rt5YFX-FreQwFxcq6hOeHUWQgNg8FU1_4/s640/IMG_0108%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We came at 1 p.m. as strangers. Seven hours later, we left as friends. You feasted on sweet potatoes, rolls, bits of turkey, and -- for the first time -- cranberry sauce with your buddy Weston. All were hits.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkZ8S8uRMlRlI0pq8uBjogkVg9TbkHobKkko-xsc8RmMJx_CpvsSP-LM-U8zxp58v7CnMBwJ2ZIeQJOMZ8TgEoGXLSnCYAvnHkXtlyANpSErZtIqFaIPu64ZCaScfU6CnI4GhdIO-fmc/s1600/IMG_0112%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkZ8S8uRMlRlI0pq8uBjogkVg9TbkHobKkko-xsc8RmMJx_CpvsSP-LM-U8zxp58v7CnMBwJ2ZIeQJOMZ8TgEoGXLSnCYAvnHkXtlyANpSErZtIqFaIPu64ZCaScfU6CnI4GhdIO-fmc/s640/IMG_0112%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">During dinner, I talked with your grandparents back home, still pajama-clad at 8 a.m. As my mom swept the phone around the room, with calls of "Happy Thanksgiving, Crystal!" coming from various family members, I so desperately wanted to be there. I wanted to discuss the strategy for the upcoming Black Friday shopping with the women. I wanted to play the annual guessing game of "Who is thankful for what?" (P.S. If the card says Josh Turner, it could be either me or my mom.). I wanted catch up with relatives, to fall asleep on the couch watching White Christmas, to revel in the tryptophan grogginess before tromping off to bed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wanted what I've always had, in other words. Because it's pretty amazing.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YBJ99-KhLTLEC0LO_qdcWf5_fqeL8TBl8wmCAJe1SQmChguu_140nxs1W36_UgX7ruOd98BSS9fJqPJt2mqs1VkDA8_je2jRM4mgWD81JOrl3lW6XhmSeWXGqbWA9T8HV9anG7BiOYo/s1600/IMG_0129%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YBJ99-KhLTLEC0LO_qdcWf5_fqeL8TBl8wmCAJe1SQmChguu_140nxs1W36_UgX7ruOd98BSS9fJqPJt2mqs1VkDA8_je2jRM4mgWD81JOrl3lW6XhmSeWXGqbWA9T8HV9anG7BiOYo/s640/IMG_0129%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Blurry photo courtesy of Jude. I miss my Canon!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But then I started thinking about the first Thanksgiving. About the fact that there were no traditions, because it had never been done before. The Pilgrims and Native Americans weren't long-standing friends and relatives. Everything and everyone was new. Both sides just knew they were thankful to be alive, to be together, to be living in a beautiful, life-sustaining country, to be a part of something bigger than themselves, to be children of a God who created and loved them dearly. <br /><br />Kind of like us today. The faces and the location weren't what we know. But the laughter, friendship, beauty and love flowing from each attendant was familiar. Because we're humans, and we never outgrow the need for connection, no matter where we are, what job we have or who we are around. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So yes, I miss our family. I'm sad that your grandmas and grandpas don't get to hold you on your first Thanksgiving, to gush over your adorable pumpkin dress, to laugh at the face you made when your tongue first touched the cranberry sauce. I'm bummed that the boys don't get to be with their cousins, and I'm nostalgic for what my family is missing -- for my holiday comfort zone.<br /><br />But in moving here, I have been solidly shoved out of that zone. And in falling from that plane, I am forced to remember what that first Thanksgiving stood for. <br /><br />It wasn't about familiarity, comfort or normalcy. It was about discovering that happiness isn't exclusive to your old life, finding joy in the midst of your new circumstances and realizing that one can always find reasons to give thanks no matter who surrounds your table. <br /><br />After all, you have a table. And though you have someone to miss, you also have new faces to meet -- two things that so many the world over don't. <br /><br />And so today, as I gaze at my babies' sleeping forms, as I hold my husband in my arms, as I hum "White Christmas," I pray and thank God for the day. I praise him for side-by-side hurt and happiness, the comfort of yesterday and the promise of tomorrow, the generosity of new friends and longings of old. <br /><br />I give thanks on your first day of gratitude, knowing that together, we drink deeply of the true spirit of that first Thanksgiving day so long ago. </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-20914016294619781142013-11-27T04:03:00.002-08:002013-11-27T04:53:33.470-08:00November Book Picks for Kids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCr7X4qR3lTerqcn1gQ6aOQE9oHfPkYsE9Pobs8iO_BHepRpIEuu0zPio1-ZEHpqGibGLxH20rKP56jqBm89ZLf57UpX4Y-PkozQeOhS2F1LreHONnhRY2nF5vBlgXJplKybLO05GL58/s1600/IMG_5628%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCr7X4qR3lTerqcn1gQ6aOQE9oHfPkYsE9Pobs8iO_BHepRpIEuu0zPio1-ZEHpqGibGLxH20rKP56jqBm89ZLf57UpX4Y-PkozQeOhS2F1LreHONnhRY2nF5vBlgXJplKybLO05GL58/s640/IMG_5628%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">When I was knee-high to a grasshopper (no "<i>Was </i>knee-high?" jokes, please), the library was a completely magical place for me, and not just because of the books. As our small town's former one-room schoolhouse, Creswell's library was living history. Farmer Quinn's wife used to teach there before she married, and sometimes she would tell stories about it.<br /><br />As either a school or library, I loved the place. The old woodstove, long accustomed to defrosting farm kids, still stood watch up front. The wood floor, built with what I'm sure was local timber, creaked no matter where you stepped, and oh, the <i>smell</i>. The combination of woodsmoke, weathered hardbacks and this intangible <i>something</i> combined to make the most weirdly-wonderful aroma. To this day, I sometimes covertly sniff old books at garage sales just for the nostalgia.<br /><br /> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This last month has found the Kupper Klan with a painful abundance of nothing to do. The library is just a short walk away from our hotel and through the wet, gloomy skies and sidewalks (<i>note to self: TOMS shoes might be socially conscious and fashionable, but they are </i>not <i>good wet-walking wear)</i>. So to the library we go! <br /><br />And here are our top finds for the month of November, keeping in mind my kids are 6, almost-3 and 7 months:<br /><br /><u><b>"How Big Could Your Pumpkin Grow?" by Wendall Minor</b></u><br />The boys loved this silly book about all pumpkins could accomplish if only they grew bigger. As the pages pass, the silliness escalates. By the time that roller coasters are careening down the track into a giant jack o' lantern's mouth, Jack and Jude are laughing hysterically.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>"Otis" by Loren Long</b></u><br />This sweet story about a tractor and his calf who outgrow their usefulness made me miss my dad's John Deere. "And this is why we can never get rid of Tucker or Austen," Jack said matter-of-factly. As much as I love our much-used Corolla and Odyssey, we'll have to see about that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>"Plumply, Dumply Pumpkin" by Mary Serfozo</b></u><br />This toddler book about the search for the perfect pumpkin was far and away Jude's favorite. We must have read it a dozen times.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhvV0_TvdgFZ_Cu5TFqc6KqS0j7Epzug5VjOaAO34yuZnHvhz0rOiODZLHAfcUOAfCVt5vSozk1AwYhXum1r3ZvCotQASVxQJ_cbQSdjBaOfsbWGXVmcKq_JtvDaoRoep31_HxEjbMwuk/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhvV0_TvdgFZ_Cu5TFqc6KqS0j7Epzug5VjOaAO34yuZnHvhz0rOiODZLHAfcUOAfCVt5vSozk1AwYhXum1r3ZvCotQASVxQJ_cbQSdjBaOfsbWGXVmcKq_JtvDaoRoep31_HxEjbMwuk/s400/untitled.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />"The Dream Shop" by Katharine Kenah</span></b></u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Lately, Jack has been enjoying books with more-complex story lines (and somewhat sadly for this end-of-the-day, might-collapse-in-the-middle-of-the-page mama, more words) and concepts. Fantasy and imagination, in other words, are right up his alley. He really enjoyed this slightly-weird tale about shopping for dreams. There was a fire-breathing lizard, you see. End of explanation. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLIxmuGm_PQ4CbsbGrUWPX6M0g07TnXafkS-BjaKl3OIO3D2nBVrHSsreNT3ljqkqi_KjArxkM67EWrOz66NFo1IIUMD3DOXrUYbyhtzlOKZtAHl3dSx3-mz7zcryvHw9CXsEChliXZA/s1600/$T2eC16ZHJHQE9nzEy9,bBRVpT1IlhQ~~_35.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLIxmuGm_PQ4CbsbGrUWPX6M0g07TnXafkS-BjaKl3OIO3D2nBVrHSsreNT3ljqkqi_KjArxkM67EWrOz66NFo1IIUMD3DOXrUYbyhtzlOKZtAHl3dSx3-mz7zcryvHw9CXsEChliXZA/s400/$T2eC16ZHJHQE9nzEy9,bBRVpT1IlhQ~~_35.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>"Chief Rhino to the Rescue" by Sam Lloyd</b></u><br />Have you discovered Whoops-A-Daisy World yet? If not, you should. It's like Richard Scarry's Busytown reinvented. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQ7nguc8mIc2UJZ7JOOJr8t_DTwxpmihkQYSUrwMsJIG99uk-Z9eATdDjoaYfwMFPSNhLeTftxeMyF2D9Yd6E6F6-LWMKLLiQVs42ns0hzBKyWu1Tqq03gY1KAgOu03hcUvbpBzfupgk/s1600/chief+rhino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQ7nguc8mIc2UJZ7JOOJr8t_DTwxpmihkQYSUrwMsJIG99uk-Z9eATdDjoaYfwMFPSNhLeTftxeMyF2D9Yd6E6F6-LWMKLLiQVs42ns0hzBKyWu1Tqq03gY1KAgOu03hcUvbpBzfupgk/s400/chief+rhino.jpg" width="365" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>"Mr. Tiger Goes Wild" by Peter Brown</b></u><br />Even the jungle creatures in the UK are prim and proper, apparently. But nature always wins in the end -- and so will you, when you hear your psedo-cherubs' giggles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>"Llama Llama Misses Mama" by Anna Dewdney</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Okay, I have to be honest: I'm the one who grabbed this off the shelf and threw it in the book bag. Let's just say Llama Llama and I have a little maternal longings in common at the moment. At any rate, any Llama Llama book is a big hit with the boys, and this one was no different.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnNxrDs_B7gVX8rJ-ROFo8yJ2kNDNWSlWHMJ4H1c99q80I6GSvKGul-PT2v7Or6EYJxwHhd7bIuhZxZ0HfHtdRyhZpyAHpHTOHVmvybOLae9d96t3T_dwfj7zUmTGZ2n0lLf1Erb3TI6I/s1600/llamallamamissesmama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnNxrDs_B7gVX8rJ-ROFo8yJ2kNDNWSlWHMJ4H1c99q80I6GSvKGul-PT2v7Or6EYJxwHhd7bIuhZxZ0HfHtdRyhZpyAHpHTOHVmvybOLae9d96t3T_dwfj7zUmTGZ2n0lLf1Erb3TI6I/s400/llamallamamissesmama.jpg" width="387" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>"Sugar Snow" by Laura Ingalls Wilder</b></u><br />I'm all for new books (after all, how else am I going to get published someday?), but I also want my children to know the thrill of the classics. I've got a whole arsenal of literati lined up for Jack as he ages -- Narnia, Hardy Boys, Little Women (he's going to need to impress some girl on a date someday, and I figure this is a great way, right?), Little House on the Prairie, Caddie Woodlawn, etc. So it's nice to read a smaller version of the real thing to get him hooked in the meantime. <br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hence my excitement over these adaptations of LIW's classics. When I told Jack that I read this book as a young girl, he was dubious. Like, you mean, they had printing presses back then, Mommy? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Now it's YOUR turn! What good books (kids or otherwise) have you read lately? Share in the comments!</b></i></span></span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-84364087518671103792013-11-22T13:20:00.003-08:002013-11-22T13:28:14.052-08:00Fending Off the Fever<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4dCWfoiv0wkCZYVHaXZEYgxjFCEf-fm2e4-BsOM5fHVvcw64_IdXILXsxDK-11tKqSK-zSEqHJuxHDsgQzfaqUF4ggfC3vbu-_ymg_vKYQiS-N_x05kWBSGNqEdX0ZkbhW0iqZxLuLEY/s1600/IMG_0013%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4dCWfoiv0wkCZYVHaXZEYgxjFCEf-fm2e4-BsOM5fHVvcw64_IdXILXsxDK-11tKqSK-zSEqHJuxHDsgQzfaqUF4ggfC3vbu-_ymg_vKYQiS-N_x05kWBSGNqEdX0ZkbhW0iqZxLuLEY/s640/IMG_0013%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm totally not a tourist. Doesn't everyone take their kid's photo in front of American phone booths?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I have spent most of my life around small children. I am an active, energetic individual. I am decently patient and usually creative. Yet this cooped-up-with-three-littles (one of whom <i>needs to be in school</i>) thing has nearly killed me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Nick has a job to do. I do, too, but its parameters are slightly more ambiguous. So here is what my and the kids' day looks like, AKA "Here is how we have been fending off hotel fever."<br /><br /><b><u>We find fun places to bathe</u></b><br />It doesn't matter if the kid is dirty or not. Had a bath this morning? Doesn't matter, throw them in the tub (or sink, whatever)</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and let them splash around.</span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We practice our letters </span></b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">To the boy down the hall who gave Jack a card and some chocolate for his birthday: "Dear Caleb, thank you for my Happy Hippoes. Your friend, Jack."</span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We kiss. And punch, wrestle and other various male expressions of "I love you" </span></b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The boys are always energetic, but this month has seen the testosterone jump off the charts. Thankfully, Avinly manages to bring out both Jack's and Jude's tender sides.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>We try out new toys</b></u><br />Lo, the post office runs have been abundant. P.S. Avinly could use some size 12-18 month pajamas.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Because even Spiderman is responsible for cleaning up his web mess</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>We copy our older brother's superhero moves when he will not share said toys</b></u><br />Don't you know Spiderman and Mickey Mouse are distant cousins?<br /><br /></span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We take a page straight out of every teenage girl's playbook</span></b></u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />How Jack manages a simultaneous duck lip and tongue roll, I'll never know. Who taught him how to take a selfie, anyway? (And did you know that "selfie" is officially the Oxford Dictionary's <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/2013/nov/19/selfie-word-of-the-year-oed-olinguito-twerk" target="_blank">"Word of the Year"</a>? Oh, the horror!). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>We burn calories in any way possible</b></u><br />Exercise is one of the best cure-alls I know. Thankfully, we can keep a small slice of normalcy through <a href="http://www.fit2b.us/" target="_blank">Fit to Be</a>, our family's favorite fitness site. They have an entire section <a href="http://fit2b.us/fit2b-kids/" target="_blank">devoted to kids' workouts </a>that the boys love (be sure to enter the coupon code CRYSTALKUPPER at checkout to get $10 off a three-month subscription!). It cracks me up every time Jack removes his shirt, "'cause you know I'm going to get sweaty when I exercise." <br /><br />Jude, meanwhile, has no idea what's going on -- but he does know that Downward Dog is similar to a center's stance. In fact, he grabbed the pigskin out of Avinly's hands shortly after I took this photo and lobbed it across the room. "Downward Dog is just like football!" he squealed. <br /><br />Yes, son. Yoga and football <i>do </i>share so much in common.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Reverse planks!</span></td></tr>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We chill and use sophisticated phrases like Namaste</span></b></u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Okay, that's a big fat lie. My children are NEVER chill. But for some odd reason, after beating us up to our third-floor room (the elevator here takes longer than the stairs), Jack assumed this position while waiting for us in front of our door. <br /><br />"I'm like a sensei on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," he explained. And per his outfit, like a moose, a fighter jet pilot and an astronaut (the costume underneath his jacket). All most definitely relaxed, meditative occupations (that is, if you can call being a moose an occupation. Canadians, what are your thoughts?). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><b>We bowl each other over</b></u><br />So maybe life doesn't come with bumpers. Maybe, because of circumstances out of our control, this November will not be our finest. Maybe we've thrown more gutter balls than strikes. Maybe we have lost of our tempers, whined more than the allowable nice Christian amount and forgotten how blessed we are to be together. Maybe the ball is so dang oily from a recent greasing that it totally threw Mommy off her normal 120-pin average. Ahem. <br /><br />But we make those mistakes as a family, and we keep bowling, side-by-side, no matter what the cheesy-themed scoreboard says. Besides, we don't need any more turkeys; we've got enough of our own already. </span></div>
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<br />crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-64504198720797814422013-11-20T14:58:00.000-08:002013-11-20T15:27:27.995-08:00Finding the Familiar <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHnk5Wp_Xc0Kg_UxqwZv_DUPIKTO0NOhsPqSGl7DdIDxieeI6LP-aNjP6mjSt7YHzze6d93c8pwRtR_yy_XtQ7HjrTsezg4tX5AX7ntK3maDxzNjAOBzvtccnfvO6NgbDtw0X4QSXY3g/s1600/IMG_0038%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHnk5Wp_Xc0Kg_UxqwZv_DUPIKTO0NOhsPqSGl7DdIDxieeI6LP-aNjP6mjSt7YHzze6d93c8pwRtR_yy_XtQ7HjrTsezg4tX5AX7ntK3maDxzNjAOBzvtccnfvO6NgbDtw0X4QSXY3g/s640/IMG_0038%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">See? Oregon isn't that far away!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My mom knows pretty much everything about babies and children. One of her highest-priority pieces of advice centers on routine. "Children thrive on what they know," she's told me approximately 1,237 times. "They don't do well with change. Stick with what they can predict, and everyone will be happier for it." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />But she was never a military wife. <br /><br />Still, what she says has merit. So despite the fact that we're stuck in a hotel room for a month with just our suitcases, Jack is out of school, Avinly is sleeping with us (and nursing like a newborn) and Jude has no idea why we're here, I am trying to find the familiar. I'm hunting for it like a Robertson in a duck blind. <br /><br />Hence, we revel over finding a street named after our beloved state and eagerly Skype to best friends back home.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Hi Gustins!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We rejoice (as in, jump up and down, squealing with glee....and you should have seen the kids) when our much-missed minivan finally makes it to England two months after leaving Salem.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Oh Austen, we have missed you! No more Jack and Jude sitting next to each other!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of course, not everything can be the same. Our cloth diapers are still with our household goods, which we don't get until the first week of December. So Avinly has been experiencing not American Huggies or or Pampers diapers, but British Nappies. (P.S. I had forgotten how much disposables cost -- sheesh!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Everywhere the Kupper
family looks, we see differences. And when you're just a few months
or years old, that's a big deal. The only people the kids recognize are their parents
(and the Youngs, also stationed here) and the lone thing from home they can hold onto is their blankie.
It's rough. <br /><br />Like two days ago, when Jude (nearly three) climbed
up onto my lap. His lip jutted out. "Mommy, I wanna go back my old
house," he pouted. Amazing, since this is the first time in two months
he has complained about all of his toys and belongings being carted away
by strange men. <br /><br />Yet no matter how backwards out little world may be at the moment, there is something we all know and recognize: love and friendship. <br /><br />Meet Sarah, a <a href="http://www.compassion.com/volunteer/advocate-description.htm" target="_blank">Compassion International advocate</a></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">like
myself. We "met" through this awesome child sponsorship organization a
few years back. Sarah is British and was quite happy to hear we were
moving here, and I must say, knowing I would be in the same country as
her did help a little. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-8DvPCgYSL_kmL_JqXGOeCJDfUnaimF0q73ZXhsRpBnY0p2J7-MoBhZjAaKuc71QyjE2Z-XnhhjgkHJsrTUCM_T51oAiWdQgZEBcFGIYa3Goahhvr-PEOFbztKRUhQl-M8XtCGV1Xy4/s1600/922776_10201261561569640_945841429_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-8DvPCgYSL_kmL_JqXGOeCJDfUnaimF0q73ZXhsRpBnY0p2J7-MoBhZjAaKuc71QyjE2Z-XnhhjgkHJsrTUCM_T51oAiWdQgZEBcFGIYa3Goahhvr-PEOFbztKRUhQl-M8XtCGV1Xy4/s640/922776_10201261561569640_945841429_n.jpg" width="472" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sarah and her father</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sarah and I have never
met in person. We only know each other through our online activities
(though hopefully that will change in the near future). Yet that didn't
stop her from mailing us two giant "Welcome to Britain" packages in the
royal post.</span><br />
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<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkgPaCNqZSrKzpgrhRuIt0ahyphenhyphenxeMk8PcF7pFNHxmANp4GUQyGjvwbFRQbwmst5d6hvTxJ6UenUYKLwoJFZJUh94xWLWnxUrvkrz7ChycQ05b2nVdiFZGPev3K3gURz5XEctNACIBthafA/s640/IMG_0040%5B2%5D.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="480" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Thanks for my British remote, Ms. Sarah!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">To Jude, she gave a sticker atlas of the UK; to Avinly, a remote control toy (and did you know Fisher Price records each toy's voice with the local accent?); and Jack, a travel game called "The Great Game of Britain," because she "knows how intelligent Jack is." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sarah saved the best gift for last. To me and Nick she enclosed a gigantic package of Cadbury's chocolate buttons. She had no idea that Cadbury's is my favorite kind of chocolate in the entire world (a habit passed down by my grandma Audrey). But God did!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdz6yPTG-fIMQbiqiDCpvklXbfUKl5UWn25upKWKQ9erAE_aMPejJSj-IiF8VoJyFW-aaycgBImSl37QF9HYIqDfFKZCwW7VhO3N35QSb8qQ8QB_DnnO8q2ifw_-FlDqIv_JbhREzBm3c/s1600/british-cadbury-s-giant-milk-chocolate-buttons-case-of-10x-155g-bags-6125-p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdz6yPTG-fIMQbiqiDCpvklXbfUKl5UWn25upKWKQ9erAE_aMPejJSj-IiF8VoJyFW-aaycgBImSl37QF9HYIqDfFKZCwW7VhO3N35QSb8qQ8QB_DnnO8q2ifw_-FlDqIv_JbhREzBm3c/s640/british-cadbury-s-giant-milk-chocolate-buttons-case-of-10x-155g-bags-6125-p.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The kids eagerly dove into their unexpected gifts (and when no one was looking, so did I). We played the game before bedtime, learning about the different major cities in the UK and having a ball all the while. <br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jude was the designated dice-roller. Jack practiced his reading on each card. And Avinly gurgled and happily reached for the choking hazards. It was everything a happy family evening should be, really.</span> <br /></span><br /><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Nick would probably want me to inform you that he won.</span></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSFGysAZM59tWZzOX3pOjl7Bg8C5Gzx_QfuAoOPAS37uYs0w8OOPP68NkSAmNXOXb6cAro2_05pAjLU8Yf5i9IRwlv8ZqDZBY-Cm9A7VdHGX6HeLTMvFzINMKJXn7rJV75p2r_3iZG6E/s1600/IMG_0058%5B2%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSFGysAZM59tWZzOX3pOjl7Bg8C5Gzx_QfuAoOPAS37uYs0w8OOPP68NkSAmNXOXb6cAro2_05pAjLU8Yf5i9IRwlv8ZqDZBY-Cm9A7VdHGX6HeLTMvFzINMKJXn7rJV75p2r_3iZG6E/s640/IMG_0058%5B2%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So while everything here is unfamiliar, life daily reminds me that no matter where you are in the world, people are the same. We may not have the same accent or background, but we can all understand love, friendship, a helping hand, a considerate deed, a smile, a thoughtful gesture. We're all humans designed for connection with our Creator and each other. <br /><br />Love and happiness are not confined to America, in other words. They're universal, if only we can see them in everyday treasures. <br /><br />And those gifts -- from an unmet-friend, relative, lifelong buddy or complete stranger -- will always be familiar.</span> </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-16357805519176202512013-11-19T06:50:00.000-08:002013-11-19T08:40:58.380-08:00A Jacked-Up and Out Birthday <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbSt_Evoo5yA8QC9wi6DWnJJ5BHm3cXMCD-QC-JRoratYKIBuCOyw3BPBO36A4gxhvfEvz-9W6ypHE4TtaLYdM1yww0NYqoebOwoO7FsczM7ZwDidYzFm8Z-R6N1ESRMKPr5ot5E0nguM/s1600/1398437_657472834297134_1096377613_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbSt_Evoo5yA8QC9wi6DWnJJ5BHm3cXMCD-QC-JRoratYKIBuCOyw3BPBO36A4gxhvfEvz-9W6ypHE4TtaLYdM1yww0NYqoebOwoO7FsczM7ZwDidYzFm8Z-R6N1ESRMKPr5ot5E0nguM/s640/1398437_657472834297134_1096377613_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So Jack isn't the tallest kid in the world. Or even at the play-place. We know this because of a new friend Jack made named Ryan. "Guess what, my birthday is tomorrow!" he told us excitedly. <br /><br />"No way!" Jack squealed. "It's MY birthday, too! Are you turning six like me?" <br /><br />The kid glanced <i>down </i>at Jack. "Nope, five," he said. <br /><br />Silence on Jack's end. Then, "Um, that can't be right."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Welcome to my world, son.<br /><br />Thankfully, it took Jack approximately .2 seconds to forget he was shorter than a younger kid before he zoomed off to play.<br /><br />Things looked up from there (no pun intended).</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHk6EkJ5KKHJB-6h6HFCHpA9MZEIlchreSXgeXDP0CPofDNJtUB6dugMdCltD0AGNyY2C5OtBN1JeZb3cPt9lcfcOCqO-ZyoXTn6t0Y-ctG8aY4efrkfnl4A2q4B6435a3HFHdsvfxMww/s1600/IMG_0014%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHk6EkJ5KKHJB-6h6HFCHpA9MZEIlchreSXgeXDP0CPofDNJtUB6dugMdCltD0AGNyY2C5OtBN1JeZb3cPt9lcfcOCqO-ZyoXTn6t0Y-ctG8aY4efrkfnl4A2q4B6435a3HFHdsvfxMww/s640/IMG_0014%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />But first, before we ascended the colossal jungle gym, came Jack's birthday morning. Very early morning. Unable to keep away from the packages we had carted back from the post office the day before, he got up in the middle of the night and ripped open an envelope from the grandparents in much the same fashion as the subject of the book enclosed. <br /><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4cD_zX4bzV_dG0MTtwjZdbQBRXuuuXXfIj5fyszLtoEKcijPHJZt4hG6OF1rZlNFFvjl-qkm1qNmxwkPDPT7WIMcbj_MmfQW4oIaMmVOA1yZ9j_o3a2Zg-0Z5K3Wd1danbRxJH0CGcc/s1600/IMG_0049%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4cD_zX4bzV_dG0MTtwjZdbQBRXuuuXXfIj5fyszLtoEKcijPHJZt4hG6OF1rZlNFFvjl-qkm1qNmxwkPDPT7WIMcbj_MmfQW4oIaMmVOA1yZ9j_o3a2Zg-0Z5K3Wd1danbRxJH0CGcc/s640/IMG_0049%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Because it was his birthday, Jack got away with the smallest of punishments for not asking permission before opening a present. <br /><br />Next came a larger package with Spiderman web shooters and a Thomas the Tank Engine Shark Exhibit. And ever since then, he's been shooting imaginary bad guys all over base, sometimes with real webs. Sorry about that, Lt. Col. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Just kidding. That didn't actually happen, but the scenario has flitted through my mind more than once, leading to some strict limits of the shooter's use). </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of course, Jack's birthday could never be complete without a trip to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jumppin-Jacks-Funhouse/160642387285183" target="_blank">Jumppin' Jacks Funhouse</a> (mispelling theirs, to my chagrin). Similar to <a href="http://www.nwkidsclub.net/" target="_blank">NW Kids' Club</a> back home, Jumppin' Jacks was a madhouse of movement and mayhem.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKoPN9BEtvgV9EsP3p5aD4HsD7GEe8yY7xi_2rnfah7ms1F7JS2aTfmADqveSIjfYWaiG8KuvRWBivgksAZN6ifof3BAa6coa5wAsd4TUj5Boc_0YYzASe2-6zaMI37BYjF3OiaNzFbAE/s1600/IMG_0027%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKoPN9BEtvgV9EsP3p5aD4HsD7GEe8yY7xi_2rnfah7ms1F7JS2aTfmADqveSIjfYWaiG8KuvRWBivgksAZN6ifof3BAa6coa5wAsd4TUj5Boc_0YYzASe2-6zaMI37BYjF3OiaNzFbAE/s640/IMG_0027%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Yes, that is Jack and Jude attached to a barber pole on crack.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thankfully, Avinly was perfectly content to chill in the toddler area -- no horizontal movement needed. </span></div>
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<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjv1SCamxGhoy5g3CIA1cB9ZpTqriiZDjGapnmShnogEsTgZtRRRTEk0qqCJ_neWU9wbWAs0czLxN4cCt98GNTLtK-zxoHwC5j9c0ZAwltEVVe_qYKAYcm2qRhuK4b5s5XNszMXI6GqxM/s640/IMG_0019%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRr5hwU407PTHkIy8YWuJQYMNJiHqw9Ju2x4PuYNrBL3FTHXHHWXKm_lhZytAQIrdWBdz4juOOAictQ13yeOoWT3LvuBHAHSkfJxrNHGMG4Ns09hrUrqv01RIou6Kud-a-lB8JRmQtHI0/s1600/IMG_0023%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRr5hwU407PTHkIy8YWuJQYMNJiHqw9Ju2x4PuYNrBL3FTHXHHWXKm_lhZytAQIrdWBdz4juOOAictQ13yeOoWT3LvuBHAHSkfJxrNHGMG4Ns09hrUrqv01RIou6Kud-a-lB8JRmQtHI0/s640/IMG_0023%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One of the fun aspects of living in Britain is the many small, unexpected changes to normal, everyday events and objects</span>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The UK puts its own unique twist on everything, it seems.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Nearly every day Nick and I point out something new to each other, "Hey, did you see that....?" Case-in-point below. Even their Little Tykes Grand Coupes are British-ized.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAf-Q4seK50mgL6yazJz9EG4ZHDxJ1bukvwtF7O2CWyXh-vDWLT-0Og0k5b8L0fyaIssK7VciflfX4vw3cX8gyNFB_v1COgQJVrN4dV1AeVpSx9sjTFy0W0kcewKUUtSy2q4LsHHaTcQ/s1600/IMG_0028%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAf-Q4seK50mgL6yazJz9EG4ZHDxJ1bukvwtF7O2CWyXh-vDWLT-0Og0k5b8L0fyaIssK7VciflfX4vw3cX8gyNFB_v1COgQJVrN4dV1AeVpSx9sjTFy0W0kcewKUUtSy2q4LsHHaTcQ/s640/IMG_0028%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Avinly just enjoyed her British hound.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LdG9co14WqNd-ifUlBTU7JxFTp2j_nMk97pEjjKTnEKiJ6k8PTEZeI6fycsz8QmPvp-aAQxKgz3Zz_rn9uHmiqwbZvyr1Z8HHzqnuGaW97xjyT-FgdPgrmNOYxeS1hHZ1QjHe-ln06c/s1600/IMG_0017%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LdG9co14WqNd-ifUlBTU7JxFTp2j_nMk97pEjjKTnEKiJ6k8PTEZeI6fycsz8QmPvp-aAQxKgz3Zz_rn9uHmiqwbZvyr1Z8HHzqnuGaW97xjyT-FgdPgrmNOYxeS1hHZ1QjHe-ln06c/s640/IMG_0017%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After Jumppin' Jacks came dinner. We were planning on hitting up a Italian ristorante, but it was gone. In its place, as luck would have it, was an American steakhouse called <a href="http://www.cadillacjacks.co.uk/" target="_blank">Cadillac Jack's</a></span>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We figured it was a Jack sort of day, so why not? <br /><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbkfd4Ug97WBXYRG_7vBIoqU1g_R64xiEFmbG3fqiBcoJAca4Ki0KZRVlEhNoyxdiYuvq8i4dtj1UEtxc-C50QqA8kOn1lBvK-dGMXmD8ROrsoVFVU3CGMDDQmwd3NTwVa9nkPk2oCPk/s1600/index.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbkfd4Ug97WBXYRG_7vBIoqU1g_R64xiEFmbG3fqiBcoJAca4Ki0KZRVlEhNoyxdiYuvq8i4dtj1UEtxc-C50QqA8kOn1lBvK-dGMXmD8ROrsoVFVU3CGMDDQmwd3NTwVa9nkPk2oCPk/s640/index.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">George Strait was crooning "Heartland" as we walked in. (<i>Sing a song about the Heartland/The only place I feel at home</i>). There was a sign on the wall showing a shot pistol with the words, "We don't call 911." (The UK doesn't allow handgun ownership, and it's emergency number is 999). I felt like laughing and crying simultaneously -- I mean, it had been <i>nearly two weeks </i>since I had heard country music! -- but I did neither. <br /><br />Over cheeseburgers, Jack Skyped with his best friend Lucy, the two of them comparing their missing teeth. And toward the last few bites of ice cream, I announced that we would all go around the table and say what our favorite thing about Jack was (strangely enough, Avinly followed Thumper's advice). <br /><br />Jude, Nick and I all said how much we loved him, what a bright mind he has, how kind he is, what a good boy he can be. We were completely speaking his love language. After Jude finished, I was getting ready to gather the troops and head for home. <br /><br />But Jack wasn't done. "Wait!" he announced. "Isn't it my turn?" <br /><br />"To do what?" we asked. <br /><br />"To say something nice about me!" <br /><br />Oh, goodness gracious. Go for it, kid. <br /><br />He sighed in complete enjoyment of the moment. "My favorite thing about me is how incredibly smart I am," he said. "I just learn things so fast!" <br /><br />Yes, like humility...and the ability to completely throw your mom and dad off-balance.</span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-49938317201000270202013-11-17T14:07:00.000-08:002013-11-17T14:46:19.613-08:00U (K) Drive Me Crazy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_lSYtatitd4aggRr8jNIJNEZWOerntLzOzQ7md4v2EpyLKoGE-mMZ9-bd4Jy8E-z9FOJG4BOCftCM9AIx6ClB0ZukKF5IvCrQeG5Ucxan493OklN4pvadWg6J20A5WLveAgA4e_2Of8/s1600/IMG_0030%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_lSYtatitd4aggRr8jNIJNEZWOerntLzOzQ7md4v2EpyLKoGE-mMZ9-bd4Jy8E-z9FOJG4BOCftCM9AIx6ClB0ZukKF5IvCrQeG5Ucxan493OklN4pvadWg6J20A5WLveAgA4e_2Of8/s640/IMG_0030%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One of the biggest differences between the U.S. and the U.K. is the rules of the road. As someone who started driving hay truck at the ripe ol' age of eight, this fact didn't particularly bother me before we moved. How hard could it be? You just switch sides, right? <br /><br />My kinked back, white knuckles and squinted-shut eyes would disagree. <br /><br />I took a four-hour driving class on base a few days ago. Nick asked me how it went. "I don't think we should ever drive here," I answered. "Let's hire a chauffeur." <br /><br />Nick did the best he could. Friends, meet MacGyver Mercedes, so named for his ability to get us into and out of tight spots. <br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPrNlGapHDuxMlfPVEHMy1g6dmYQLgXh6_Pkr012VO4htNz9cklrn0QhjHbvGnLBPeFOstBkznCNQoiG5fID0ZOG0qrTi1EFHkaJuw7l2cbaZMpE3NlMlqga0jQ1NQY5aBR_M64krNKE/s1600/IMG_0031%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPrNlGapHDuxMlfPVEHMy1g6dmYQLgXh6_Pkr012VO4htNz9cklrn0QhjHbvGnLBPeFOstBkznCNQoiG5fID0ZOG0qrTi1EFHkaJuw7l2cbaZMpE3NlMlqga0jQ1NQY5aBR_M64krNKE/s640/IMG_0031%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Nick's new car!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've driven several hours around the British countryside now with three screaming children in the backseat. Sometimes I join them, especially when a giant combine, tractor or lorry (the British term for truck) goes whizzing by a few inches from my mirror. <br /><br />"If your mirrors touch," the driving instructor had said, "then you're probably too close." <i>In complete seriousness.</i><br /><br />Because here's the deal: Brits don't make roads for cars. They make them for scenery. Therefore, the maintaining of centuries-old, 12-foot-tall hedges takes precedence over widening said roads to actually make room for two whole vehicles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />See this "road"? The GPS ordered me down what I thought was someone's driveway. Because MacGyver is, after all, straddling the entire width of the pavement. (Insert note: "pavement" is slang here for sidewalk). When I figured out it was a two-lane (2!)</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">road with a 60-mph limit (because that's their national speed limit), I actually spoke aloud. "You have GOT to be kidding me!" <br /><br />The GPS assured me it was not. So on I went, most assuredly going well under 60, and praying against oncoming traffic until I got to a "better" path. <br /><br />I guess, however, that driving here has certain perks. Like I have never prayed more continuously. During a 60-minute jaunt last week, I sang worship songs at the top of my lungs the whole way. "Oh, to get Avinly to calm down?" Nick asked. "Are you kidding?" I answered. "Those were for me."<br /><br />While driving to a little town called Gayton, the kids riding along, I unexpectedly caught air while going over a hidden dip in the road. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(To my mom: I was going well under the speed limit, because I haven't worked up the courage yet. I know you don't want me to ever.)</span></i><br /><br />Avinly wasn't such a big fan of my driving maneuver, immediately wailing. Jack, however, thought it was pretty cool. "Let's do it again!" No worries, son, I'm sure we'll get to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thankfully, the driving instructor was full of useful information. Like charts and pie graphs about how many military members and their families have died in car crashes here in the last decade. And several <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2UExOFvi-Q" target="_blank">inspiring videos</a> of fantastic crashes and close calls. <br /><br />And we have to somehow make it out of this country alive in four years. <br /><br />Fun tidbits: when a curve is coming, there are no signs telling you how much you should slow down. Apparently, you're just supposed to know. Same with hazard lines; there's a hazard ahead, but what it actually turns out to be is anyone's guess. The stoplights aren't even the same as the States!<br /><br />What's worse, after driving, one must park.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In an effort to be helpful, I suppose, the UK has deemed parking acceptable nearly everywhere. On sidewalks (see photos above and below), curbs <i>and even in the lane you're driving in. </i>No joke. Facing any direction, too. No matter that you're forcing running moms with double strollers to step into the street, or blocking traffic. The cars (and moms) behind you are then tasked with safely getting around without knocking over the bicyclists and horses that lawfully own one-third of the road. I find myself resisting the temptation to roll down the window and knock them over with my arm. I could, after all; they're that close.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />And I haven't even started with the roundabouts.Or the fact that I've been driving vehicles much smaller than my mini-van that is due to arrive any day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When I was 15 and in driver's ed, my first partner was Chad Davis, one of the most popular guys in school. I was in the backseat the first time he ever drove on a highway. As the speedometer climbed toward 55, he started going, "Whoa...uh...um....huh...wow....ah....." in complete nervousness. (Side note: part of me was thrilled that Chad, the cool quarterback and future homecoming and prom king, wasn't perfect at everything the first time around). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Shane, our driving instructor, reassured him that he was doing just fine. "One thing at a time," he said. Chad protested, "But I've never been this fast" as his wheel clipped the shoulder. "Sorry," he drawled (because though Chad was just as much of a native as the rest of Creswell, he could still drawl). <br /><br />Shane smiled. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. In a few years, you're gonna laugh that you ever thought this was hard." <br /><br />Armed with my new British license, I'm going to take Shane's 13-year-old advice. </span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-75045215295910794352013-11-16T08:30:00.003-08:002013-11-16T08:34:02.730-08:00It's Jack's (Non-Existent) Party & I'll Cry if I Want To<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Bnh4TEfK_3fX3Bdp39daSf1_kyYTyIKnMMZ7VT3x9nkfm8EcoRJvRek7BspnXfUoGxDaZZmVqO2RHmX56cY5j4aXKMLoO7EZOsEI8DK7tPT1aYHysbfZFnaChx5AXg8Pcw-oU6NShOU/s1600/2358_69147931480_9163_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Bnh4TEfK_3fX3Bdp39daSf1_kyYTyIKnMMZ7VT3x9nkfm8EcoRJvRek7BspnXfUoGxDaZZmVqO2RHmX56cY5j4aXKMLoO7EZOsEI8DK7tPT1aYHysbfZFnaChx5AXg8Pcw-oU6NShOU/s640/2358_69147931480_9163_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Surprise, Jack! You probably never thought you would be spending your sixth birthday in a foreign hotel, away from friends, family and nearly everything and everyone you love, did you? Well, we're even; I never thought I would <i>date </i>your daddy, let alone marry him and traipse willingly across the world with his three children. <br /><br />But here we are, alive and well. We're in this thing together, buddy. Please don't cry. Oh wait, you're not a moody toddler anymore who does NOT want to practice his Chopin? Thank goodness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are decidedly you and no one else. As the lone soul chosen to be your mom, I'm proud of that fact. So to commemorate a mere decade left until you hit the road (probably in Tucker, my 2003 Toyota Corolla), I'm giving the world a slice of Jack, a la mode, along with a smattering of photos of you over the years.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHJByEWo7LNKwoU1YBLwi85R4ytCQ2zPCUvAzVWfuqJMcGqjZqYLC_XFwTQHoGguw2MnIYYs6ErFJBNetbtVaO8WKW57zLMB8YJz4v1vilj1qHU271CxLQOfq5oe899VjNly3rbjNu5c/s1600/258870_10150219769926481_4487341_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHJByEWo7LNKwoU1YBLwi85R4ytCQ2zPCUvAzVWfuqJMcGqjZqYLC_XFwTQHoGguw2MnIYYs6ErFJBNetbtVaO8WKW57zLMB8YJz4v1vilj1qHU271CxLQOfq5oe899VjNly3rbjNu5c/s640/258870_10150219769926481_4487341_o.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jack at 6</span></span></b></u><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Your best friends are Lucy, Josiah, James, Caleb, Ashley, Daphne and your cousin Josh</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">At school, you are one of the most popular kids. I know this because every time I arrive to pick you up or drop you off, you are swamped by classmates asking you for playdates. Plus, that one girl can't stop kissing you.</span></li>
</ul>
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<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are still set on marrying Lucy when you grow up, though you do sometimes express frustration that the law forbids you from marrying Avinly. YOUR SISTER. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You can't pick between the following careers: paleontologist, shark scientist, spy, police officer and jet pilot. In fact, you have considered a combination of the two, like a paleontologist spy, "because you never know when dinosaur bones will move around."</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You must be nearing a growth spurt, because you can eat like a grown man.</span></li>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You love toys that involve thinking: legos, train tracks, marble towers, etc. If it has a story line, even better.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Your view on life frequently cracks us (and Facebook) up. You take things so literally.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sometimes, your vocabulary is a bit larger than it should be. You love identifying synonyms and antonyms, for example, and you are learning all the parts of speech (nouns, verbs, etc.) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Your knowledge of the human body is pretty impressive for a kindergartner. And sorry that you accidentally learned the facts of life from Duck Dynasty. In all honesty, your daddy and I never saw that one coming. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You have more than 25 Bible verses memorized perfectly. And dozens more poems and songs.</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja95fu-toepF9f-DZVb9AtB9R8bKPOGGgPxoT1kz4vgnxyCDHcQ0OlU9151FWevpnai0STVUetEzhq8cB1kIJlwv5qfYpaOF0Ud8ufC5E9e-Ar945oby-xLE39EDZFu9vU_OkVU3QVFxI/s1600/1277120_10151572107831481_1153867179_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja95fu-toepF9f-DZVb9AtB9R8bKPOGGgPxoT1kz4vgnxyCDHcQ0OlU9151FWevpnai0STVUetEzhq8cB1kIJlwv5qfYpaOF0Ud8ufC5E9e-Ar945oby-xLE39EDZFu9vU_OkVU3QVFxI/s640/1277120_10151572107831481_1153867179_o.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This year, you suddenly started thinking smiling with your mouth closed for photos was cool. Possibly because you have lost four teeth. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are excellent with small children and babies. Other moms frequently approach me at the playground and tell me how gentle you were with their toddler. Strangely, however, you never want to play or help with Avinly unless a reward is involved.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are starting to get into fashion, choosing your own outfits and buttoning your dress shirts. You have your father's mismatched tastes. But when you look at me, chocolate-brown eyes shining, asking, "Mommy, how do I look?" it's all I can do not to smother you with kisses and say, "Fantastic!" Okay, maybe I do. </span></li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrylieEf4bFGAd6KhU1BzziTb3BgGw92gV5Z8iGpFHva-7QLUmjPt_ocTiuDh0f0OV3x5qV6ls7_m03_sDEI9dUkVRer47DgjvgCm6ih2_19ZwKGl2KH8GzuNDacI3MLSwageGmAhkcU/s1600/1270887_10151594470481481_1330229905_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrylieEf4bFGAd6KhU1BzziTb3BgGw92gV5Z8iGpFHva-7QLUmjPt_ocTiuDh0f0OV3x5qV6ls7_m03_sDEI9dUkVRer47DgjvgCm6ih2_19ZwKGl2KH8GzuNDacI3MLSwageGmAhkcU/s640/1270887_10151594470481481_1330229905_o.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You love to be in charge and boss others around, but always with an objective in mind. Therefore, you are perpetually the director and star of every play you put on, the "it" in tag, the head chef in the kid's kitchen and leader of the pack.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Imagination is king in your world. You are constantly coming up with poems, songs and stories.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Favorite characters: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all the Marvel Superheroes. Favorite foods: tomatoes, PB&Js, pizza and all fruit and vegetables. Favorite comfort item: your stuffed garage-sale lizard named Lizzie. </span></li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQ-mMZEEuPFamNyRiQ2laLwu6X3-oRrICa_RPCp6eNOkoRQ1A5rfuMs-APGLIylODX0ukTUJUpRkb27VLszK6MwQWMr94CYguT196xUwuYu7SBiWyLITzDjZmMkUoQuPdy5PxD9imhec/s1600/35538_412600221480_7497377_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQ-mMZEEuPFamNyRiQ2laLwu6X3-oRrICa_RPCp6eNOkoRQ1A5rfuMs-APGLIylODX0ukTUJUpRkb27VLszK6MwQWMr94CYguT196xUwuYu7SBiWyLITzDjZmMkUoQuPdy5PxD9imhec/s640/35538_412600221480_7497377_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Your reading has really taken off in the last few months. You were SO proud of yourself upon completing "Hop on Pop" for the first time!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You could wrestle and play "Beat Up Time" and "Fire Cannon" with your brother and daddy for hours. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You
have a very sensitive heart toward others. It very much bothers you to
know that so many children in the world don't have enough food, water,
shelter, education, toys and love.</span></li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLkBtdyP_VPUEtFnoP4HWvrAtMKjNZFXp16OaDzNnqtyVq7qsdwdRXCzrA7hAsGwqPHVCEw_PkG4DCXwljWtBVx5ZrB6YG1kbgQY48K_EWgwhgrQUlREf0HQCt49MU3iDC-JYrFEDoVg/s1600/15335_201699896480_2001982_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLkBtdyP_VPUEtFnoP4HWvrAtMKjNZFXp16OaDzNnqtyVq7qsdwdRXCzrA7hAsGwqPHVCEw_PkG4DCXwljWtBVx5ZrB6YG1kbgQY48K_EWgwhgrQUlREf0HQCt49MU3iDC-JYrFEDoVg/s640/15335_201699896480_2001982_n.jpg" width="456" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Most importantly, though your argumentative, have-to-be-right spirit often drives me BATTY, your heart of "Mommy, please love and affirm me" constantly shines through and melts me every time. Prime example: the other day, in the midst of chaos, you said quietly (then less quietly), "Mommy, I wrote a poem for you." Here it is:<br /><br /><i>Sunflowers are yellow<br />When they rot, they turn brown<br />But no matter what<br />I'll never let you down<br /></i></span><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I believe you. And that is why I am crying; not because we're in another world, unable to celebrate your special day in our usual themed way. Instead, it's because you -- my first poem -- have moved on to your next line and verse.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-86934199461084753722013-11-14T13:52:00.000-08:002013-11-14T23:48:32.667-08:00A Birthday for Barbie (Or How You Can Help the Philippines)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEGEt2LLIOdhDEGG-IEu475rZFlGoh5P-9bSULTa6pvugfLUrrdQCNtQfAS2s58hRlcFR5qp1QnV2kX5W7YGv9m-P0Ly_eyqVyNzEZvGG58s8YWcVIVnX5NcjmTzJthAJvYcKwrGmAY0/s1600/PH6210001-Fullshot-200w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEGEt2LLIOdhDEGG-IEu475rZFlGoh5P-9bSULTa6pvugfLUrrdQCNtQfAS2s58hRlcFR5qp1QnV2kX5W7YGv9m-P0Ly_eyqVyNzEZvGG58s8YWcVIVnX5NcjmTzJthAJvYcKwrGmAY0/s640/PH6210001-Fullshot-200w.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Barbie Gicale Albatera </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Saturday is Jack's sixth birthday. Six years ago on November 16th, a beautiful Filipina girl named Barbie was celebrating her own sixth birthday. <br /><br />We "met" Barbie through <a href="http://www.compassion.com/" target="_blank">Compassion International,</a> one of the world's largest child sponsorship organizations. Nick and I always knew we wanted our children to be others-centered and have a passion for social justice. One of the best ways to accomplish that end was to <a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm" target="_blank">sponsor a child.</a> We searched for available children using Jack's birthday, and when we saw Barbie's precious smile, we were hooked. <br /><br />In the nearly-six years we've been writing, Barbie and the Kuppers have developed a strong, steady relationship. She makes us smile, beam with pride, cry and laugh. See her drawing below for proof of the latter. Sometimes, practicing English can get a little dicey. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXFvJYytwETLkZMSwIgHwcB-2xsW-NH2CZrJcB2Yb168aTSWEuga7gCN-MzmQYCaVXl12RvuZMTOstsbRUbwaBQKmrRbYzEzPnUFd5hlM6-JsZ2nZicek1caoHwbuI714_v_7PUtIZNU/s1600/Barbie's+drawing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXFvJYytwETLkZMSwIgHwcB-2xsW-NH2CZrJcB2Yb168aTSWEuga7gCN-MzmQYCaVXl12RvuZMTOstsbRUbwaBQKmrRbYzEzPnUFd5hlM6-JsZ2nZicek1caoHwbuI714_v_7PUtIZNU/s640/Barbie's+drawing.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Barbie, in
other words, is a vital part of our international family. So whenever a
natural disaster hits the Philippines, we anxiously whip out the map and
check its location to Mindanao, Barbie's island. <br /><br />Last week, of course, was </span><a href="http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory/reports-4460-dead-philippines-typhoon-20890282" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">devastating for the Philippines</span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">.
And though we know our girl is safe (Leyte, the most-affected island,
isn't close to Mindanao), our hearts are broken for the thousands of
children just like Barbie who lost their homes, families, schools,
churches, belongings and lives. According to UNICEF, more than 1.7
Filipino children are thought to be directly in the storm's path. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WiubX7ST7Uu_zmmowYz-_xPPZ98M4mHmMaAXXHqEe11zuPXUPITvKoVPoZ8Sy2coT4JYE0SjtdjPSxp3EILqCrQoovKUUoslZsxpsr3PFfNno2rDJM8M9oKVshdYwvDSVWxuUrIRSMc/s1600/imagesI0KRZKLF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WiubX7ST7Uu_zmmowYz-_xPPZ98M4mHmMaAXXHqEe11zuPXUPITvKoVPoZ8Sy2coT4JYE0SjtdjPSxp3EILqCrQoovKUUoslZsxpsr3PFfNno2rDJM8M9oKVshdYwvDSVWxuUrIRSMc/s640/imagesI0KRZKLF.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><br /><br />One of the few positives after horrific events like Haiyan is the outpouring of support from all over the world. Countries, businesses and individuals are donating billions for Filipino relief efforts. Perhaps you've considered throwing in your five, 10 or 20 bucks as well. But where to start? After all, Hurricanes Katrina and Sandy taught us that just because we give money <a href="http://nypost.com/2013/10/25/congress-funded-sandy-relief-isnt-going-where-it-should/" target="_blank">doesn't necessarily mean </a>it will get to the right people. <br /><br />If I may make a bold statement and humble suggestion: Compassion International isn't some giant, government-sponsored organization mired down in red tape. They've <a href="http://www.compassion.com/about/where/philippines.htm" target="_blank">been in the Philippines for decades</a>, were there when the storm hit and will be there after everyone else goes home. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWRNVGMeYWgw7jOUHM539rtLiHzcHa7T1b6nJw8eLvmWnIrKm6jHD59ca96Yq25_x96vxwrAbaONxBn6t806igsUj-J5Vn2IeTLzDQzdPGQJMX1cQSVpo1NSRpc8RJCWUl7CBN0OLmg4/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWRNVGMeYWgw7jOUHM539rtLiHzcHa7T1b6nJw8eLvmWnIrKm6jHD59ca96Yq25_x96vxwrAbaONxBn6t806igsUj-J5Vn2IeTLzDQzdPGQJMX1cQSVpo1NSRpc8RJCWUl7CBN0OLmg4/s640/untitled.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's crazy-important to research a charity before donating (here's a <a href="http://shaungroves.com/2013/11/dont-just-do-something-how-to-research-a-charity-and-why-it-matters/" target="_blank">fantastic Shaun Groves article</a> on why). The most important factors to consider are these:<br /><br />1. Was the non-profit there working before the disaster?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">2. Will they stick around after the disaster?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">3. How will my donation be used?<br /><br />I highly encourage you, whether you're donating to Compassion, the Red Cross or any place else, to do your research first. But if you want an organization that has been personally vetted by me, my family and millions of others around the globes for decades, please consider <a href="http://www.compassion.com/typhoon-hits-philippines-2.htm?referer=ph-typhoon-134566" target="_blank">donating to Compassion. </a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Our Barbie is safe and celebrated. But with her kind and tender heart, I know that more than anything else she would want her fellow Filipino citizens to be healthy, dry and cared for on her twelfth birthday. <br /><br />Will you donate even one dollar to help some of the world's most beautiful children begin to recover? Will you say "Happy Birthday!" to our Barbie through your prayers and <a href="http://www.compassion.com/typhoon-hits-philippines-2.htm?referer=ph-typhoon-134566" target="_blank">donations? </a></span></div>
crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-81121298475571445032013-11-11T14:11:00.003-08:002013-11-14T23:48:52.110-08:00The Skinny on British Milk Cartons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGVH_5WVIxkxGHgfvibwX_QvLQ2RRxucgtG1KUmUhckjWvcL1avTGOY7po5jzXzeMg3m4DJb_kB4Jq1Lmw9nD8NIEYgcqOpXP_4lMTY0rBAcaHGe_GNOCZx6LfjkaBD4fUSpBanoKTuc/s1600/IMG_5547%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGVH_5WVIxkxGHgfvibwX_QvLQ2RRxucgtG1KUmUhckjWvcL1avTGOY7po5jzXzeMg3m4DJb_kB4Jq1Lmw9nD8NIEYgcqOpXP_4lMTY0rBAcaHGe_GNOCZx6LfjkaBD4fUSpBanoKTuc/s640/IMG_5547%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />We've now been in England for one week. And it's been a doozy. <br /><br />When we first got orders here, Nick said, "Well, at least we speak the same language." After talking to dozens of Brits this week, I'm beginning to think we don't, at least partially. :-)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-13oYTW9EWrGNDwnyQmcxlaVFTRzHKirqPGbcrQFb-P7omZdF-81UOyysg1XF-eMtPhKNEPU_ovh9nDqPOw2EAq-abUQHPp8ttLreDZOt9Iaz2CgxwcYehTA197XeHu6HKp7tnOxSgC0/s1600/IMG_5554%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-13oYTW9EWrGNDwnyQmcxlaVFTRzHKirqPGbcrQFb-P7omZdF-81UOyysg1XF-eMtPhKNEPU_ovh9nDqPOw2EAq-abUQHPp8ttLreDZOt9Iaz2CgxwcYehTA197XeHu6HKp7tnOxSgC0/s640/IMG_5554%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Upon PCSing to MHAFB
in Idaho, the culture shock hit me upside the head, mainly because I
wasn't expecting it. After all, how much different from Oregon could
Idaho be? They bordered, for crying out loud! I learned my lesson; every
place has its own language, subculture, political style and more. <br /><br />This time, I knew to expect everything to be different. The UK, I can announce, has delivered.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3k-NrCJH3vK1LhXoZ6sMmc5FNSewm05nYMjG7yGayUZU06Z7Pw17hK2hHxNrxItSPTcOnRmYjxkvHmNORZFsv9_WNJTlvzg30S-KpF9EVaI2CXbqd1-iwxi96FHRNxsUYbe1nr1S3oVQ/s1600/IMG_5556%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3k-NrCJH3vK1LhXoZ6sMmc5FNSewm05nYMjG7yGayUZU06Z7Pw17hK2hHxNrxItSPTcOnRmYjxkvHmNORZFsv9_WNJTlvzg30S-KpF9EVaI2CXbqd1-iwxi96FHRNxsUYbe1nr1S3oVQ/s640/IMG_5556%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At an anthropological museum in Cambridge</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You drive on the
opposite side of the road in a car with the wheel on the right. The
signs are totally different, the sidewalks non-existent. One does not
have to stop for school buses at any time. Street signs warn of "rising
bollards" instead of speed bumps. And THE ROADS -- oh dear Lord, I will
never complain about the state of American roads again. No joke, I have
had smoother 4-wheeler rides through farm fields than I have on paved
roads here. Nick and I are quite baffled as to what the 225-pound tax
per driver <i>per year</i> actually pays for, because it obviously isn't maintenance.<br /><br />The
next time Adele asks me whether she should just keep chasing pavement, I
know what my answer will be. Go back to the boy, dearie, because the
drive seriously isn't worth it. </span></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2LD8wxn67AnKkZQKqWUVaMWclaKYU3JELBZKKi1_vRoyp5Zdkd6f2lc9kdq4Zq1z7Mrqd_NfDgQCbGsMKhkLcEBkpxpzBsbiM9PC4K-2CAZG5GGaw_8N3so3xzsGtX21cvvb1jIBjC4/s1600/IMG_5560%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2LD8wxn67AnKkZQKqWUVaMWclaKYU3JELBZKKi1_vRoyp5Zdkd6f2lc9kdq4Zq1z7Mrqd_NfDgQCbGsMKhkLcEBkpxpzBsbiM9PC4K-2CAZG5GGaw_8N3so3xzsGtX21cvvb1jIBjC4/s640/IMG_5560%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jude checks out an ancient hippo</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dryers here don't actually dry, because there is no vent connecting it to the outside. My dryer at home
takes 41 minutes. The dryer here at TLF (our military hotel) takes
approximately 4 hours, 10 minutes. I asked about it and was told that's
normal, that I'm supposed to take out the clothes and lay them all around the house. Why Brits have dryers in the first place, then, is a riddle I'm still looking to solve.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7J1r3VROR8-HAmM_KXHrMCbAK5RbaD60kE6lpkCzfPP1BiI_mlU_IPBIAMCVf02ymXcBXCSM3WAvW0c4nEyIIP1ylDUI3AuSLAok5T3DrfaTymwBtPIMqhLtyZjcnJEZWI8tUAyWDRrU/s1600/IMG_5562%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7J1r3VROR8-HAmM_KXHrMCbAK5RbaD60kE6lpkCzfPP1BiI_mlU_IPBIAMCVf02ymXcBXCSM3WAvW0c4nEyIIP1ylDUI3AuSLAok5T3DrfaTymwBtPIMqhLtyZjcnJEZWI8tUAyWDRrU/s640/IMG_5562%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Look, Mom, now me and Lucy are twins! (And FYI, that red substance on the plate is ketchup, not blood)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Most
ovens don't fit a standard 9x13 American casserole dish, and ditto for
the cupboards fitting standard American dinner plates. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Bathrooms
-- even new ones -- NEVER have a plug-in, meaning you have to dry and
curl your hair somewhere else. Closets, bathroom vanities, mirrors,
garages, and normal-sized fridge/freezers are rarities. Every house
features radiators, and most have oil tanks for heating.</span>We're
doing okay on getting our body clocks switched over. As in, the boys are
doing all right, while Miss Avinly likes to wake up every hour or two
to nurse.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6k8teRohv4pRK4gE4rJ-iG94CxvJmH6pA4FNY-36surSmSFOYnv5CcEN4n2zafkdiHQJNXzw0PHU8jp43dEr-12ALIkIZ2Et3l-SPHHisz3f9nXPW6bpLCVrhZ8yNVsbsz0H7l6teyeQ/s1600/IMG_5563%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6k8teRohv4pRK4gE4rJ-iG94CxvJmH6pA4FNY-36surSmSFOYnv5CcEN4n2zafkdiHQJNXzw0PHU8jp43dEr-12ALIkIZ2Et3l-SPHHisz3f9nXPW6bpLCVrhZ8yNVsbsz0H7l6teyeQ/s640/IMG_5563%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Our temporary dwelling</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here's the lowdown on the past week: Klaus is with my
parents temporarily. I twisted my ankle on the wet cobblestones while
carrying Avinly. Jack puked tomato all over the hotel curtains. Every
child has had an extremely wet cough, with Jack being the worst. With no
routine, the boys have been behaving abominably. We were supposed to
see five houses Friday; we ended up seeing none. We lost our keys, our
rental car broke down, we've had several viewing appointments canceled
on us because they were let minutes before. <a href="http://espn.go.com/video/clip?id=9944600&ex_cid=espnapi_public" target="_blank">The Ducks lost.</a></span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We
tried to go bowling, but there were no open lanes, leading to some
fits. I have no winter coat, gloves, scarves or hats and am constantly
freezing. Jack has cried more than once
from missing Lucy, his best friend. Jude has asked more than once for
his grandparents. Avinly has asked more than a million times for me to
suck on.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-X24iF925OZOZamSJoC-RMy280ihnGETR5hX3LBh8eZKavvy823VXksUsG2zQyjvQSGjMjI_Q0t2RaQzrNu1G9s8GQVftdN1YndAv9IrKoxDavh2OCHDFRzCPr_i4e4svWxLfUndGSA/s1600/IMG_5620%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-X24iF925OZOZamSJoC-RMy280ihnGETR5hX3LBh8eZKavvy823VXksUsG2zQyjvQSGjMjI_Q0t2RaQzrNu1G9s8GQVftdN1YndAv9IrKoxDavh2OCHDFRzCPr_i4e4svWxLfUndGSA/s640/IMG_5620%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But
hey, some good news: I most definitely am going to lose weight here. I
know this because I went grocery shopping and saw the prices. </span><br /><br />Thankfully,
I can see the future, and it's better. Once we find a house, school,
church and rhythm, the Kupper household will be smiling again. And
thankfully, there have been moments this week to smile about: Jack's joy
over losing another tooth, Jude's excitement over ancient dinosaur
bones, crying out with gratitude at discovering a much-needed squeegee
and cough syrup stashed randomly in a suitcase, hearing people talk
about our "accent," the prospect of meeting some wonderful friends, the
hope of future trips to my Grandma Audrey's birthplace and home. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtSS5Nw0Tb2towk-oLugzrVf2u-YS3axXtrLTMZpE7eN3gdtMy4tQ7FdSuxn9komvNbP_2SVXy7c2Z3l0juWCUZdBs3_WYfJCO7hInyn4Iw71kTkY-KRbyAMXzmkjK6XY5tSifZcebGk/s1600/IMG_5622%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtSS5Nw0Tb2towk-oLugzrVf2u-YS3axXtrLTMZpE7eN3gdtMy4tQ7FdSuxn9komvNbP_2SVXy7c2Z3l0juWCUZdBs3_WYfJCO7hInyn4Iw71kTkY-KRbyAMXzmkjK6XY5tSifZcebGk/s640/IMG_5622%5B1%5D.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sorry buddy, maybe another time!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The
UK isn't home, but that's all right. It's different than what we are
used to, but that is okay. America isn't the be-all, end-all, and being forced out of our comfort zone is a positive. We will grown, we will learn, we will stretch. And that's a good thing.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyb2LMRqv00iHXD5JNQp_bxeMnhV9sjt4PPnK1LT2aJtgZLv6rwG8CNLf9Ac6B6HWzzPrL0neg3WeoPiiN4VoF5j_OAoW4mRu1M0i1BxoyYaoE4rOO2cNURWhy4j5K0tT_9qjy7vVfLwc/s1600/IMG_5627%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyb2LMRqv00iHXD5JNQp_bxeMnhV9sjt4PPnK1LT2aJtgZLv6rwG8CNLf9Ac6B6HWzzPrL0neg3WeoPiiN4VoF5j_OAoW4mRu1M0i1BxoyYaoE4rOO2cNURWhy4j5K0tT_9qjy7vVfLwc/s640/IMG_5627%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Argh, Jack the pirate says</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Next up: I'll fill you in on British house-hunting. We're hoping to find a house with a fridge that fits a gallon of milk (though we have yet to find a store that sells them)</span>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">May our hunt make us as skinny as the cow on the left and as happy as the one on the right. <br /><br />(And yes, there is a whole milk carton. Trust me, you don't want to look like the cow on that puppy!).</span></div>
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<br />crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-791587280159345870.post-24548804279534003052013-11-05T01:50:00.001-08:002013-11-05T10:47:18.094-08:00Surfacing for Breath<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeCmJxrOthXZp4ke5RZDlf6CRondvyI9TQKP3_2ZaSr1PJOGvi9970rKfEsLP1amd4qYh39HEV5zxccRl4WdDylqrsjiLx5Ii4vuNjK50hsXILhOzIgW9iFUlFGZ-Bdg6six3XHFUb-v8/s1600/1455093_649428878434863_486670031_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeCmJxrOthXZp4ke5RZDlf6CRondvyI9TQKP3_2ZaSr1PJOGvi9970rKfEsLP1amd4qYh39HEV5zxccRl4WdDylqrsjiLx5Ii4vuNjK50hsXILhOzIgW9iFUlFGZ-Bdg6six3XHFUb-v8/s640/1455093_649428878434863_486670031_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Chauncey the house says, "Come back soon, Kuppers....and somebody, please rent me!"</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Warning: this blog post may be riddled with grammatical errors, unoriginal thoughts and passive voice. But when your body is telling you it's midnight (and so are your three children), blogging takes a backseat to survival. <br /><br />The long and skinny: all five human Kuppers made it to England, but the canine is still stateside. Klaus, thanks to a government snafu, is stuck at home and we are working on getting him over here. Since the camera is with our household goods, you will have to be content with photos of Jack's field trip to the pumpkin patch right before we left and a smattering of Nick's phone photos.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApwin9dK_WVczoLFsdBM8lhuunGMbRyf4bIZEKYwo6yrvHcAQTe6QEjQd3n7eLatxzK7k1e-kDDHOTT3HZTXKz2GX4UKXfoVuosdm9K4d7rzj0Xoo5wDMYBQ6_X-aR-1TTBIjFgFsr68/s1600/138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApwin9dK_WVczoLFsdBM8lhuunGMbRyf4bIZEKYwo6yrvHcAQTe6QEjQd3n7eLatxzK7k1e-kDDHOTT3HZTXKz2GX4UKXfoVuosdm9K4d7rzj0Xoo5wDMYBQ6_X-aR-1TTBIjFgFsr68/s640/138.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsfq0AOqbHzncrJ8uFuMaALgCB1AFGxy81LPQSucbcHzkBiR9R_ps3LQtVTWfPcMiO0f7lUs2TLf3xGzJyAf5zmvLspfjAUuAP3A4b_5eyOQdWAePvCLce79Nat-PoNA5mH-9eYqhjC4/s640/1397494_649957938381957_1588295189_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="480" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jude's head was so smashed against the airplane seat for so long that his curls actually disappeared. One of the first things we did when we got to our hotel was to give him a bath so they would come back. I've lost enough right now as it is!</td></tr>
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</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I know many of you
were praying for our looooong journey, and I thank you. I had been
dreading the 10-hour flight, but thanks to supernatural workings
(because what else could explain the way my children stayed relatively
meltdown-free while strapped in and sleepless?) it wasn't nearly as bad
as I imagined. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTlx7XkvtGonL4g07j6iiuLs91J0VAGs9VsDHBViWBoTCIlR2JyO3SNK6fV1htvpO57p5QGVKGlxYkew09rH1W3S6QWFSLfm76xLbxh7pLwlJ4t5I6t0YanGQcZ2EdvV7q0BeiBO1zew/s1600/1397756_649944758383275_1010533093_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTlx7XkvtGonL4g07j6iiuLs91J0VAGs9VsDHBViWBoTCIlR2JyO3SNK6fV1htvpO57p5QGVKGlxYkew09rH1W3S6QWFSLfm76xLbxh7pLwlJ4t5I6t0YanGQcZ2EdvV7q0BeiBO1zew/s640/1397756_649944758383275_1010533093_o.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traveling with three carseat-using children tends to be slightly cargo-heavy. "That's the biggest baby buggy I've ever seen!" a customs agent told us in absolute shock. Yes, thank you, we Americans go big or go home. Er, I mean, we leave home and come to your country. Whatever. </td></tr>
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God specifically answered our prayers by surrounding us with baby-lovers. They even complimented us on the kids' behavior. Jack's seatmate especially was helpful, listening as he chattered away excitedly for the first hour, then propping him up and tucking him in as he fell asleep, then mopping up his spilled juice at breakfast. And when Jack shared some of his political opinions (yes, I have <i>that kid</i>), she was nice enough not to shoot him down. <br /><br />Jack: I don't understand why England won't let people own guns.<br />Lady: Oh, but that's one of the best parts about England. No one needs guns. So we don't need to own any.<br />Jack: I'll bet the bad guys are pretty happy about that. <br /><br />Jack: I don't understand why Obama does what he does.<br />(Me, lunging across the aisle to covertly stop this trainwreck)<br />Me, whispering: Jack, maybe we shouldn't talk about the president right now.<br />
Jack: Okay, I won't. But I still don't like him. <br /><br />(For all my liberal friends: we teach our kids to respect the presidency no matter what, but after watching several clips of Obama's speeches, our five-year-old has drawn his own conclusions. For what it's worth, Jack is also fairly ticked off with Santa Claus' unfulfilled promises.).</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhy6Q3zF4BpxT_lP7mq4Y0Z-SiDBoEaT9k6X3wDkJWiGPduXkLDrR34i2CIOOM1D8KBS7QJWBlITRoX43YWwN07C6rdCJytF6T9Q3CVdnLzk8LSH6vmyKVL_9c3bGyKnlLsEwSIAH8nGo/s1600/155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhy6Q3zF4BpxT_lP7mq4Y0Z-SiDBoEaT9k6X3wDkJWiGPduXkLDrR34i2CIOOM1D8KBS7QJWBlITRoX43YWwN07C6rdCJytF6T9Q3CVdnLzk8LSH6vmyKVL_9c3bGyKnlLsEwSIAH8nGo/s640/155.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jack and Ella, a favorite classmate</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I love when God reminds us the world isn't so big after all. Dr. Faiz Rahman, the founder of <a href="http://www.goodnewsindia.org/" target="_blank">Good News India, </a>was on our flight. We've long supported this fantastic orphanage, child sponsorship and "dream center" organization and were delighted to see Dr. Rahman again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This past week has incredibly draining for all of us. My days consisted of a million overwhelming details and hundreds of tears when I hoped no one was looking. But as he always does, God came through as each goodbye, each "last", each mound of paperwork, each fear and each anxiety threatened to drown me. </span><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /><br />Lord, we still haven't found a renter...God, the French onion soup spilled all over my baby carrier and now it stinks and I need it not to!...Jesus, I'm freaking out about the money!...God, am I taking care of my children's emotional needs? Because I feel like I'm failing...Am I making too big a deal out of this, Lord? Do you think I'm a whiner? What will happen when Nick deploys?...Oops, I hope that the Salem Library doesn't notice I accidentally shipped one of their books TO ANOTHER CONTINENT...</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Just because I'm a Christian doesn't mean I don't hurt or cry. Sometimes, I think I feel even more acutely because I have Christ in my life. So no, God didn't reach down and zap the pain away last week. <br /><br />But He did hold me especially close, sending help just when I needed it most. I heard my heavenly Daddy's heartbeat when a friend showed up to take all my half-used bottles of ketchup and olive oil, when family members soothed my hurting babies' confused feelings, when friends stocked me with airplane snacks and treats, every time I heard how much I was going to be missed, at Chuck E. Cheese (of all places!) when the goodbyes left me gasping for breath.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Just ride the wave," my <a href="http://russellssalonspa.com/staff/stacey-smith/20622/" target="_blank">beloved hairstylist</a> advised me at our last appointment. "Yeah, I should try that instead of letting it drown me," I joked back. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"I've never been much of a surfer."<br /><br />Sometimes, I forget that the God I serve made the ocean waves. And when I fall off the board -- when this feeling of <i>Oh, sweet Jesus, I can't do this! </i>fills my chest -- I only need to reach up to grasp the hand of the One who walked its pounding surf. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And so I try, taking a deep breath. I pray for wisdom as Jack cries for his best friend Lucy, as Avinly refuses to be set down (or UNLATCH, for crying out loud!), as Jude looks in vain for the amusement park he mistakenly thinks Eng-Land to be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I count to ten or more as Nick takes off for his first day of work, leaving me slightly terrified. <br /><br />I give my worries over the house(s) and the money and the dog and the future to a Savior who promises to hold my hand as I figure each situation out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I pray for grace as we are in temporary lodging yet again, as we look for a new house, school, church and social circle, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">as everyone's body clock is as backwards as British driving rules.</span></span><br />
<img alt="" class="spotlight" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/1426336_650336481677436_1110823294_n.jpg" style="height: 765px; width: 574px;" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I surface for breath, not knowing the <i>hows</i> or <i>whens</i> of the ride...only that my lungs will be filled when I break through to the sunshine, and that someday, little by little, my feet will find their place. <br /><br />And that, for me, is enough for now.</span></div>
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<br />crystalkupperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06659420169932283744noreply@blogger.com0